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sor-vette · 2 years

Text

II. Mysteries, Deepened

• type: Jungkook x reader (+ ot7 x reader) • rating: mature/explicit • w/c: 9k

• genre: fantasy! & vampire! au, (sort of) exes to enemies/friends/annoyances/lovers it’s complicated and they're stupid

• t/w: blood, gore, murder, biting, disappearance, mention of a past abduction, suicide mention, heights, bullying, overprotective Jungkook, yandere-ish at times, animal death, both Jungkook and the reader are annoying brats, smut (fingering, choking, praise, masturbation (f), oral (f))

• tagging: @mintkims; @pinkcherrybombs; @leannsw; @ilsan-seoul; @mageprincess7 • dedicated to @mayla548

• main masterlist • series masterlist

You watch as the paper slip floats in the wind. Big, bold letters of MISSING hanging overhead a smiling girl. The air is getting fresher as snow begins to gradually melt away, spring was coming but there were no happy faces to be seen around. Curfew had been tightened like never before and as days passed and Kayla Matthews did not appear, fear began to course through the school. Out of the corner of the eye, you watch a sullen figure trudge from one news board to the next - Kayla's sister, hour by hour, day by day trying to raise any leads - all unsuccessful. Life at St. Augustine's had gotten darker than this small and largely isolated community would have guessed.

With no little amount of pity, you watch Dana move lifelessly across the schoolyard, her friends' encouragement falling on deaf ears.

"Why so glum, Dearest?" a voice asks and by now you're proud to say that Jungkook's frequent scares no longer gave you tremble.

Of two weeks till full moon, one had already passed and he had weaselled his way into your life in every single aspect. His presence around you had not gone unnoticed and in no time at all, you went from being the weird one to being the weird two.

"Just thinking," you reply, watching as Dana breaks down into tears, ushered to the side by other girls.

When you approach her, they all bristle.

"Hey, Dana... I heard about Kayla...can I help you with anything?"

"Why would we need your help?" one of them, the blonde with a sharp expression, scoffs.

"For all we know, you could be the one who did something to her, you freak!"

The attitude is not unusual. After Luara's disappearance, the flimsy social protection you had by her side evaporated into thin air, further aggravated by Matthias who was convinced you'd done something to her. He clearly was struggling to grasp his place in the world as a douchebag, not some godlike lover that women should die for. Still, it stung a bit to have all your attempts at cordiality thrown back in your face.

They all suddenly blanched, casting uneasy looks to your right and you feel a tall figure brush against your shoulder.

"Ladies," Jungkook purrs, tone edging on malicious. "Behaving are we?"

By their faces, especially the blonde one's who has her arm slung around Dana, you can surmise that they were dying to send both of you over the hills but one smile and arched eyebrow from Jungkook and they settle for disgruntled silence.

"Your poster said she went to the woods? I can maybe help to organize a search party?"

"They won't s-search," Dana cries. "It's not the first time she doesn't show up for a long time."

"What makes you so worried?"

"She never doesn't call! She t-tells me, always! Always when she doesn't plan on showing up. She didn't tell me this time! She didn't tell me...." Dana hides her face in the other girl's jacket.

"She left the swimming practice with us," one of them reluctantly informs. "She said she will go for a quick walk in the woods and then she just... disappeared."

"She's not coming back," Jungkook mutters gravely as you walk to the cafeteria.

"Don't say that. It's cruel."

"But true."

Both of your gazes linger on Kayla's picture.

The chances of finding a missing person within the first 48 hours were 80%, 70% in the 72 hours. That number dropped drastically after a week, dwindling down to 10% and after two weeks mere 2% remained.

Kayla right now looked at the very, very slim chance of returning. You think back on a similar conversation you and Luara had talked about when weeks bled into months Over There and you had slowly resigned to never coming back. Funny how the miracle occurred, you'd won your 2% only to despise it with every cell in your body.

"Even so...there's not no chance," you mutter, more to yourself but Jungkook inclines towards you in curiosity.

He doesn't ask any more questions, so you don't answer but you've got this perplexing notion scratching at the back of your mind that you both knew what the other meant.

Once you step into the cafeteria, people raise their eyes and then look away. Jungkook gives everyone a cheery, scary smile and even the most obstinate heads pretend they have nothing insulting to say to you. Being with Jungkook had proven to be like living behind a stone wall, he seemed to be frightened of nothing which meant that everyone was terrified of him. The bravest people to approach him in hopes of catching his attention got dealt their rejection early and quickly on. The only thing he ever said to them was that he was but a worshipful servant underneath his mistress' wicked care, then toss a sly wink to which you only responded with an irritated eye roll, ignoring the flame licking at your cheeks and heart.

You don't want him, you said to yourself at night. You don't want him. You don't want him. But always somewhere along the way, the words mingled to "you want him" and then you were plagued with fantasies of his dark eyes peeking across your bare stomach before he lowered his mouth to your core and made you scream over and over again until your throat was raw and crying from overstimulation, you passed out. Those were nice fantasies you kept largely in private though they also made you stammer more in his presence, which of course pleased Jungkook to no end. Those mornings he was all toothy, shameless smiles, using any ridiculous, nonsensical excuse to tug you into his lap.

"Day's special please," you mutter to the lunch lady, heating your palms in the warm fumes of the food, fresh off the stove. Jungkook on the other hand piles his tray full, balancing it all, including your soup while wrapping one, protective arm around your waist.

"I've never seen you eat that much," you eye the mountain on his plate.

"It's not for me, it's for you," he answers and pulls you to sit in between his spread thighs. You were well acquainted with this embarrassing prison. The first time he'd done this, you wanted no part of it (well, a small part of you did but neither you nor he needed to be too aware of that) and tried to get away only to have your legs squeezed down as Jungkook laid back and with a lazy smile observed your feeble attempts of wrenching free. One way or another, he got what he wanted and that was chiefly your irritation and undivided attention.

"How much food do you think I need?" you scoff as he scoots closer so that your back be firmly pressed against his, his one hand wrapping around your waist the other - opening a tattered book of "Those Who Hunt the Night". Jungkook enjoyed that book dearly, said he hadn't read such fine comedy in years.

"More than a measly soup, Dearest. But if you don't want to stuff your mouth with a meal, I can g-"

"Shut the fuck up, you're disgusting," you grimace in irritation but he only laughs, briefly nuzzling his nose in your hair. Whether or not people are looking, which of course they are, they do so discretely.

When the food is all done and Jungkook is in near tears, from laughing, of course, reading the scene where the hybrid vampire is killed, the cafeteria is almost empty. Everyone has gathered outside, playing with the last snow, even if the mood is greatly drained by the frequent missing posters. Dodging the snowballs, you quickly cross the courtyard to the history class and you're almost in the clear when something heavy hits the back of your head, smacking your teeth together. Blood spills in your mouth. Holding the injured spot you turn around to see Matthias laughing dumbly with his pack of hyenas, all bearing a hefty snowball.

You turn with a smirk to Jungkook, meaning to offer him an exercise of senseless violence only to discover that he was no longer there.

Sweat pours from Jungkook's forehead as he struck the back of his skull against the stone wall, over time creating a sizeable dent. His fangs itched and his breath came laboured.

He was starving.

"You survived the Siege of Glatos," he reminded himself, ripping at the covers of the book with his dampened palms. "Didn't eat for 50 years."

Yes, except it was different. There had been no one there, just him and Yoongi, trapped in a deserted village. No temptation, no humans running around like headless appetizers all day long. No you - his angel, his siren.

Jungkook stares in the bathroom mirror, fully in his recessive form. It was not a pleasant sigh. His veins ran black underneath his skin as well as the usual whites of his eyes. His fangs stretched over his lips and long claws stretched from the tips of his fingers. The only colour was the crimson ring which transformed the brown of his eyes into a pool of blood. The face of a monster.

He tried to recall why he hadn't fed already. Just snatch a human, that egregious filth that troubled you - solve two problems with one bite. It would be so easy but a picture of your dead body startled him into reason. He was alone here, there was no one else to spot him, no safety net for your survival. It was no small gamble to say that once he let himself prowl on the school grounds, he'd lose all sanity to hunger and would seek you out next.

You were brave and strong and resilient but at the end of the day still human. A human with no chance of fighting back, of hurting him in return. He shudders, recalling your limp figure in Jimin's arms as he tried to scream you awake and Jin rocking back and forth in the corner, drenched in your blood. You had broken his resolve like a fig in a flood. Jin's! The one who was a born vampire, who knew hunger like the back of his hand and had been taught for generations to control it.

All useless at the sight of you.

He'd nearly killed you that day and ever since then, your safety was paramount to all desire and thirst. Either there was a spotter or they didn't feed at all. The rule was simple and Jungkook was eager to uphold it.

Just a week left, less than a blink in his long life. He could survive a week.

Mrs Navarro's class was always a soothing break from the otherwise bleak academics. There was no wrong here, just endless self-expression. It also meant more often than not you spent it entirely facing a blank piece of canvas and music streaming through headphones.

You just couldn't stop thinking that if it all went correctly, you'll never be sitting in her class ever again. Or on this world. There's a little gripe of regret poking at your chest, like never visiting one of those picturesque places in the travel brochures, never watching all the movies you wanted or visiting the restaurants you wished. Once you went all of it would be over - the human culture if there even was any left would be a dwindling minority in the sea of phantasmagorical. Only the neighbouring kingdom, whose Mad King's wife had come from a human settlement, had the imports of this world. But even so better than life here. You disagreed with reality and it was a fine time to do something about it.

"Lacking inspiration?" Mrs Navarro's voice trudged you from the pondering and you straighten in your seat at the sight of her dark curls hanging over your shoulder.

"Something like that," you lie. She hmms thoughtfully.

"Well, you know how we do it - deep breaths, calm mind -"

" - don't try to force what comes naturally," you finish for her and receive a soft smile.

"You know there's an upcoming art competition, maybe you're interested to join? Your work is always so vivid!"

Of course, it was vivid. All it took was a single memory of the time period between going to the Other World and meeting them - the Three Riddles of Malavat, Battle of Osca, the rebel meeting - a lot had happened, a lot you could recognise like it was yesterday and yet the one that mattered the most - a blank fog.

"When is it?"

"Next week."

By that point, one should hope you'll be long gone.

"I'll think about it," you force a gentle smile and Mrs Navarro moves on - to help the next struggling talent.

You wonder what would she do after hearing you've disappeared. Will you have your own missing posters plastered all over the school like Kayla did? Or perhaps you will be simply written off as another rebellious student breaking out into the world. However it may be, you won't be here to see it and that was the last decision.

Sighing, you meditate on the blank canvas. A waterfall, a white bunny amidst even whiter snow, Jungkook waving flirtatiously across the yard awaiting you for another morning despite how desperately you tried to push him away.

Your shoulders relax and you let your mind wander never catching onto a particular scene right until you can see a small library stretching increasingly solid all around. Everything is ornate and dark. From the sharp-angled bookcases to the burgundy rug on the floor.

A wall of grotesque illustrations stares back at you. Drawings of dissections of fae, lycans and others. You gulp at the line of "human" - the man below it standing split neatly in half. As you regress deeper into this be it a memory or a dreamscape, you become acutely aware that the thing you were sitting on was not a piece of furniture but a body. It holds you close, one large and calloused hand gripping your hip, the other sinking their fingers in your hair, meanwhile, a pair of plush lips press lazy kisses alongside your neck. You shift, heart beating out of your chest but they, he, now you realize, tugs you closer.

"Where are you running off to?"

Two sharp incisors glide over your jugular and you swallow, barely able to breathe as he nibbles at your skin.

"Hmm...it's what I thought," he starts to thrust you back and forth, creating friction in the nether region. You try to crane your neck to see who it was but he holds you firmly in place, it's simply not possible for you to move without him guiding. His fingers travel downward and slide beneath your clothing. Every single organ and blood cell in your body shudders and you flinch away at the unexpected feeling of being exposed.

"It's okay, princess, it's okay," and something in you believes that it is, in spite of even further there being a thought that you must get back to someone.

His hand wraps around your throat, gently but still tight enough that you can't not be aware of it. The other hand slips inside you.

"Move, fuck yourself on my fingers."

Thighs aching you do so, heart beating against the skin of his palms and your head growing increasingly foggier. You whimper as he licks at your neck the ends of his fangs ever so slightly grazing but not drawing blood. It doesn't take all too long until you're gasping and thrashing in his arms, to no avail, simultaneously needing just a little bit more and feeling too much. His ornate, jewelled rings press in your throat.

"That's right, princess, give in to me," he purrs voice caught between a soft whisper and hellish growl.

As you unravel on his fingers, he bites in your shoulder. To you, it feels no worse than a mosquito bite though somewhere you assume because you've conditioned yourself to not thoroughly feel its effects.

When he breaks off for air, his voice is but a rasp. Heady as though he's drunk.

"When you return -" he growls, furiously sinking his fingers in and out of you, thumb circling your clit, "-try to run, try to be taken away from us." He warns and with a startling, falling sensation, you begin to grasp that this wasn't a memory after all.

"I don't give a shit what will it take, we'll have our happily ever after."

You open your eyes, senses disappearing all at once and find yourself mewling and shaking against the blue cubicle of the girl's bathroom. Your knees give out and you slide, chest heaving up and down, onto the toilet.

Jungkook comes to a halt by a freshly dug spot of earth on the far side of the forest. A single lonely bird caws in the distance and he wonders back on his mates while working quickly on Kayla's previously unmarked grave. Even should she be discovered, werewolves didn't turn back after death. The form change of the Lycan kind needed to be decided and as such this girl will not ever be recognized.

"I'm sorry I had to kill you," he reveals to her grave, piling rocks one by one to at least give her some marking of a burial. "But you would have hurt my beloved and I couldn't let it happen."

When he deems the mound large enough, he observes a moment of silence.

"Rest now," he at long last utters and walks away, hands in his pockets. If Kayla was a werewolf it would explain why the saccharine scent had inexplicably lingered in the halls. He hoped she was only one. For their own sake, if there was an unsavoury figure lurking on St. Augustine's grounds, they should stay away.

Jungkook was regretful of Kayla's death but he would do it again and again and again if needed. He still couldn't bring that day away from his mind - the day Luara's forces invaded their home and took you away.

The humiliation of being subdued, intruded in their own home was nothing against the horrifying realization of suddenly too quiet halls. A house in which no longer there was a steady heartbeat, illuminating their days one by one. Nothing will ever repeat that dreadful night. He will never again watch you be hauled away to a strange world, all alone.

A crow flies overhead and from high up the treetops dust of wet snow falls onto Kayla's grave.

When you enter your room the sight of Jungkook lying on your bed is not an unusual one. By now you learned to live with the fact that he was breathing down your neck.

"Watch out I have a snowball behind my back!"

He merely throws you a thoroughly unamused glance.

"Thought you will run off again," you mutter shrugging off your jacket and throwing it on top of Jungkook. He folds it in half and hugs to his chest. That ludicrous man. You fall on the other available bed (with room usually meant for two) and heave an exhausted sigh.

"Tough day?" he asks.

"Not really. Just confusing."

"Well, that's-" he halts mid-word and puts the jacket on his nose.

"Stop sniffing my clothes, you weirdo!"

But Jungkook doesn't listen. He sniffs it from one sleeve to the next and then jumps up to push himself against you.

"Get off of me," you huff petulantly as your cheeks burn but he grabs the wrist you meant to shove him with and sniffs at it too. Eyes closed he breathes in deep and your blush only deepens when you recall what exactly you'd been doing with that hand.

"Are you ill?" he asks lowly.

"No."

Jungkook seems to disagree as he straddles you, each leg caging you by the side and leans his nose in the crook of your neck. The scene seems hauntingly familiar though remaining frustratingly distant in the far recesses of your subconscious. Seizing both of your wrists in the large of his palms he shudders with every inhale before the hold turns painful.

"Ow..." you whine and not a second after your wrists are released. Tingling like they've been in a vice, you put your hands against his chest, not really trying all that hard to drive him away anymore. Even if you did, feeling the taut expanse of muscles you doubt you really could.

He braces himself against the mattress, trembling from head to toe and you can vividly hear the fabric underneath rip. All breath catches in your throat, despising the fact that instead of fear you feel a sense of thrill. Jungkook's lips touch your neck, barely a peck, barely even a graze but it has you keening. Like an instinct. Without any warning whatsoever comes a crash by your bedside table. One minute he's on top of you, the next, eyes terrified and wild, he presses himself against the wall as though you were the beast. You exchange heavy looks and then he's just gone. Disappeared as he was there even there. Quivering ever so lightly you raise yourself to glance back. In the mattress there now stood eight long gashes on each side of your head, so deep one would assume they were made by a dagger and not human's hands.

The tree breaks and falls on the ground echoing through the forest like a crack of thunder. Jungkook shrugged off the impact and kept running. Far away, further still, he wasn't all too certain that his legs wouldn't succumb and he wouldn't turn back. It had been too close, far too close for comfort. He didn't even know to which desire he would fall victim first - to drain you dry or stuff you full.

Blind and deaf to the outer world he tried to purge any untoward memories or fantasies away from his mind - all rather unsuccessful. He was mortally hungry. He foolishly hadn't fed before entering this realm. Only had glimpsed the gate in the shimmering moonlight and jumped through it without a moment's thought. Anything, any chance he could bring you back no matter how minuscule he was eager to take. But now he found himself unable to both be with you, for he could do harm and be without you - it'd been so long for them, your absence, it had carved out a part they never could mend together. Existence - ever a pleasure to be in it.

Once Jungkook knew there must be at least half a country separating you two, he slowed and panted into the black night. He glanced across the frozen wildflower field he had stopped in. Unfortunately for that one life, it was present here with him. A deer looked back at Jungkook, uncharacteristically still. Others often teased him for having those same doe eyes - starry, almost innocent. Not now though.

The deer once sensing that the stranger was not kind after all took a run for it, dying a mere second after. Jungkook made the animals' death quick and marginally painless - snapped its neck, a brief flash of terror and then nothing. Retching, he lowered his mouth to its neck and drank as much as he could without hurling it up again. Fangs, dripping red he stared at the moon for comfort - pondering all the long way home. And should he make it with another werewolf roaming around.

Jimin watched unenthusiastically as Taehyung gorged himself in overeating, sitting on a rock and reading the newspaper in the pale moonlight.

The Fae, Taehyung had been drinking nearly fifteen minutes from, finally gave up, dropping to the ground lifeless. With a sigh, Jimin raised himself and wipe some of the blood away with a handkerchief.

"Always such a messy eater" he chided.

Sniffing, Taerhyung looked around.

"None more, right?"

Jimin arched an eyebrow at this.

"More?" he asked, scandalized. "How could you possibly want more?"

"I'm - what's the phrase - stress-eating."

"Why are you so worried over?"

"Don't say it like that! As if you weren't frowning at the newspaper earlier!"

"Maybe I was glowering at your sloppiness, ever think about that?"

"No."

Jimin snorted.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

He laughs when Taehyung lightly swapped at his head. After a brief moment, they retreat back to their now usual sombre tones.

"What does the news say?"

"Queen Luara said to meet the King of Alzar this week, Marquis Ereghin to tighten restrictions on inter-realm travel in regards to the latest Lycan surge," Jimin read with a scowl.

"Marquis Ereghin..." Tae drawled, jaw clenching. "The same Ereghin who set Hoseok on fire?"

"His son I believe, but scarcely apple falls far from the tree," Jimin replies, with a barely restrained hiss. "We need to meet Jungkook by the gate, lest he falls into the Royal Guard's hands."

"If we're lucky, maybe we can see just how well Ereghin likes to be slowly burnt to a crisp."

Jimin echoes Taehyung's smile only mutely, partly still cleaning up his red-stained chin.

"What if...what if he doesn't return?" Jimin supposed in a faint whisper. "What if she doesn't want to return?"

"Why wouldn't she?" Taehyung frowned in genuine confusion. To him, it made no sense. The world spun around, the moon rose and fell each month, there were once seven, now there were eight of them, meant to stay together for all the long eternity. "We love her, she loves us."

"It wasn't..." Jimin stammered, wincing at some of the more sour recollections. "It wasn't easy, Tae. What if she meant to go with Luara? What if she was happy, in the end, away from us?"

"She wasn't!" Taehyung snapped harshly, ripping away from Jimin's handkerchief. "She didn't. She can't..."

He looked over their now small domain, wetting his lips and feeling a pain much worse than hunger nest itself in his gut.

"Can she?" he whispered to himself.

Jungkook didn't show up that day, or the next day. And as the time passed only mere three days remained. With his disappearance, the second coming of Matthias' wrath was only more brutal. Almost as if sensing that he didn't have much time left to make a thoroughly traumatizing impression, he became downright murderous. No longer it was something as childish as kicking your books, locking you behind in the lecture rooms. They threw you down the stairs, vandalized your room, made sure that there wasn't a single safe spot left in the school for you to hide. Didn't mean of course you went down without a fight. As you hid behind the alcove of the second floor on East Wing, with pleasure you saw Eugene Livvard spew a sleigh of curses as he held his nose which you were certain you broke by swinging a fire extinguisher in his face. Keynan was limping as the said extinguisher was dropped on his foot.

"The fucking bitch, I'm going to kill her," Matthias fumed and you believed him. Over There people threatened to kill you all the time and so you knew how to differentiate between an empty threat and a promise. This, this was a promise. Matthias was deadset on actually killing you like the psychotic bastard he was.

Of course, when you went to the teachers, to Headmistress Kang to report him, all the evidence disappeared. Your room was in perfect condition and it just so happened that the students around failed to recall what happened. All you had to prove was bruises and fear but no one was interested to listen to the loony girl who read old books, wandered around and as the popular rumour suggested danced naked around a bonfire, worshipping Satan. You would never dance naked around a line of fire, that was too cliche.

Three days. Three days left. It didn't matter if you went to classes or not, you just had to survive three days. Perhaps in the more literal sense than you thought for.

The rest of his friends scatter further down the hallway but Matthias... he lingers back. You were confident he couldn't hear you, it was far too away but the way he turned his head, sharply as if he was just as confident where you were hiding, sent chills down your spine. He walks closer to the alcove behind the statue of one of the founders, baring his teeth. You decided at that moment that you were going to do everything it takes to survive, to get back to them.

"Rip his throat out, drive your fingers through his eyes," a voice flows past your ears, like a ghost whispering across the realms. Briefly, you can almost picture a man with catlike eyes sitting by an ill-sounding piano and whispering to you that as long as you were at risk, it didn't matter how brutal you were. If there was ever a threat to your survival, you should think of nothing but bathe in their blood, of tearing them apart so no one could ever harm a single hair on your head. But as the bell rang, an emergency siren echoing so loud throughout the school that Matthia's covers his ears, the fragile picture disappears.

He growls to himself but ultimately stalks away and you exhale a shaking breath in the now relative safety. Perhaps Matthias did want to kill you, but you were willing to return the favour. It should be scary, you assume, to be this willing to destroy your enemies but if anything it made you giddy. You were capable of taking care of yourself. At least to some extent. After you're certain Matthias has left and the alarm had stopped ringing, you crawl out of the alcove only to narrowly miss punching someone in the nose.

"What the fuck, you freak?! I was trying to help!"

The scowling blonde that protected Dana so much. You rack your brain for the names of the girls swimming team but nothing really concrete comes up - Drew, Andrewa, Andria, she could be any one of those. Whoever she was, despite the clear distaste she harboured, written in pronounced letters on her face, she did pull the alarm that distracted Matthias away. And for that, you can only thank her.

"Thank you."

She grumbles but doesn't wave the gratitude away, merely frowning down the hall.

"He's coming after you like crazy," she murmurs and you can awkwardly nod in agreement, out of your depth in making friendly conversation with your schoolmates. "He's insane you know that?"

"Well, he tried to shove me out of the window, so yes."

Her eyes widen before grimacing yet again. Luara always made fun of you for walking around with a sour face. You only ever stopped after returning back from them. Some said it was from the trauma, but you rather think because you had something to be really, really happy about. Or at least you'd prefer to believe that.

"Listen, I think...I think he did something to Kayla."

"Matthias? Why do you think so?"

"I...I saw them once, making out in the classroom. Kayla said it was a one-time thing, they were punished by professor Wilkins later anyway but I don't know... He dated Luara and she disappeared, he hooked up with Kayla and now..." at this point she stammers, gazing out the window, doing well to hold back her tears. "I haven't said this to Dana, she idolizes her sister and it's hard enough to see my girlfriend cry herself to sleep every night. I really don't want to add a shattered image of her perfect big sister to the list - she'll...she'll be heartbroken. But, even though I don't like you, and remember that I don't like you," she wags a finger in your face, to really underline that emphasis, "maybe you should get away from St. Augustine's. He's clearly after you and the way he looks -" she gags.

"The way he looks?" you echo and Drew or Andrewa, you're certain it's one of the two, furrows her brows in surprise.

"You haven't noticed?"

"Whenever I see him, I run away."

"He's fucking sick! And not just in the head! He's sweating so much, I swear I can smell him from here! He's all shakey and green. Teachers had him drug tested, they thought he was going into overdose but I guess they found nothing, 'cause he never suspended."

You suck in a contemplative breath.

Kayla's disappearance had been plaguing your mind. Mostly you wondered could she be alive and somehow ended up through the gate or was she really dead as Jungkook insisted.

You miss him, you realize. It's scary and lonely here in St. Augustine without his weird, intrusive but protective figure hovering over you like a halo. You also realize that there was a fair chance he had killed Kayla hence why he was so certain she wouldn't be turning up.

But if you think that he is who you want him to be, he wouldn't kill Kayla, would he?

Wouldn't he? Wasn't that in his "nature"?

But he hadn't hurt you even when he had his chance wide open.

"Anyway, I should go now, Dana gets anxious if I don't come back for long periods of time," the girl sighed and after throwing a compatriotic albeit stiff smile, padded in the opposite direction.

"Hey, what's your name? I...I didn't catch it."

She turns around, barely a centimetre.

"It's Andrewa. My parents were funny like that."

It's a nice name, you think to yourself, observing as Dana runs down the stairs, throws herself around Andrewa's neck and both girls disappear hand in hand around the corner.

Looking left and right you sneak downstairs where the hordes of students, guided outside as the fire protocol stated, will give you ample cover to sneak into the kitchen. With Matthia's reign of terror, you sparsely ventured into places wide open - cafeteria, classes, everything. He managed to steal away the last bit of human life you had left even in this destitute monastery. Maybe you could pocket some food that would last you until the Gate opened.

There are rows and rows of students of all ages, some barely awake, some near bouncing from joy. But everyone mostly laughs. There was no apparent fire or smoke so many naturally took the opportunity to relax between classes, strike a friendly conversation, trade some cigarettes underneath the noses of drowsy, overworked professors, especially Mr Wilkins who seemingly slept with eyes open. Life as St. Augustine knew it and as the nuns who founded it would be greatly disapproving of. You're all but out of the crowds and near the backdoor entry of the kitchen when there's a splurge and something hits your face. It's a wet, disgusting noise that not many people knew. But you knew. You knew.

There's confusion, then a piercing scream. One after the next the screams continue and chaos quickly overtakes the small courtyard. Keeping bile in your throat, numbly you reach for your cheek and looking down on your fingers see that they are stained red. Between the rush of bodies, all retreating back you notice a figure, a student splattered on the stone ground. What is left of his head and of his face is not a lot, there are long gashes across his features warping them into an unrecognizable puddle of flesh. Someone on your right vomits. Screaming continues. You may not recognize the face but you remember the clothes. Eugene Livvard who not more than ten minutes ago had chased you down the hall, threatening of throwing you off the roof had met his words more personally and more sooner than anyone could have known. In shock, you watch as his brain matter mixes in with the pool of blood filling the ridges of the courtyard slabs. You crane your head upwards and up, high up on the there's a dark spot. It looks down upon you for a split second and then disappears.

"There's no way it wasn't her!"

"Yeah, first Luara, then Kayla, now Eugene. She's going after the popular people."

"Yeah, probably she's enacting some sort of grudge for being a loser."

You sit in the confessional and lifelessly listen in on the latest gossip. Eugene's death was a mystery. Did he jump, was he pushed, what was he doing out on the roof in the first place none of it had answers but despite the police technically ruling you out, thanks to Andrewa's alibi of talking to you and not dragging Eugene up the stairs onto the roof, the school had unanimously decided that it was you behind the murder.

It didn't look good on the paper, even you had to admit it. Loner, check. Doesn't talk to people - check. Involved in mysterious incidents - check and check. It didn't matter that you hadn't done shit, to none of them, by all accounts you could be their very own Norman Bates. You had packed all you needed, through tears leaving down many prized possessions. The road Over There would not be easy. If you didn't want to already die in the Stretching Swamps, the bare minimum is the only thing you could afford. You didn't participate in any lessons anymore. The only reason you hadn't left St. Augustine to the nearest motel was that now if you did, the police would undoubtedly find you guilty. Two days, you only had to survive two days. A quick time period before, barely a glimpse, now you began to wonder if you could ever make it to Gate. If it didn't open... not to be overly dramatic, you would die. Matthias would actually murder you or perhaps the police would find some bogus evidence and you'd be tried for a murder and two possible disappearances. You almost laugh to yourself, how did it end up like this, how did your life go from an unsociable bookworm to a possible life sentence but you remember your surroundings and as such fall deadly silent.

Or just silent. It was Eugene's memorial. Maybe it was improper to use such words but given how quickly the school board had organized the memorial, they hadn't even gotten the blood out of courtyard stones, you were far away from being the most disrespectful person here. They probably tried to salvage as much reputation as they possibly could. In her speech, Mrs Kang went over lies such as how kind and how brilliant Eugene had been, human frivolities to say after death as if not glamorizing the bastard would personally condemn them to hell. She also didn't miss the implication of suicide. Of course, better to say it was that than to admit that there was a killer on the loose. You pull away the curtain of the confessional to look over the crowds. Dana looked absolutely soulless in the third row next to a grimacing Andrewa. Matthias was in the first row and he was indeed shaking and green looking as though he was barely containing vomit. Strangely enough, you don't see him surrounded by his goons. They've all dispersed, not even looking at each other. Keynan had a crutch which he was squeezing the life out of, perhaps once again an improper term, and sweating like a veritable waterfall. He appeared more nervous than you and given that you were actually threatened to murder and had your innocence hanging by a thread that meant something.

Professor Navarro was crying in her tissue, while Wilkins was sleeping. The usual sight. At the end of her speech, Headmistress Kang introduced an absolutely draconic lockdown. No movement before seven, no movement after six. A buddy system was set in place in addition to the teachers personally escorting students to and from lessons. Wandering around would be more difficult for you than ever but maybe you could sneak your way into the cellar or the library. Both of these spots could provide some reasonable safety to spend the night that your room, which anyone could enter, didn't. You breathe in and out, trying to manage the rampaging anxiety. You were the main suspect of murder while the actual murderer was loose, Matthias was hellbent on bullying you to death, Jugnkook had gone missing and if the Gate didn't open in two days you might as well follow Eugene and toss yourself off the building. But yes there was nothing to worry about.

Something squeaks by your foot and you glance at a white spot rustling by your pants. Mr Red.

"Hey, little one," you greet him, gently picking the rabbit up. He didn't struggle much and was very transfixed at eating curtains. He might be a magical rabbit that could travel between worlds but a rabbit nonetheless. While carding through the short fur you scrape by a metallic collar around his neck. Pushing the white away, you confirm that there indeed is a very thin golden collar around this rabbit and what's more interesting, there is in fact a note attached to it. Unrolling the short note you read only two words "respond immediately" written in elegant penmanship that would rival the most ornate digital fonts. There is a noise outside, chairs and feet moving their way out of the reformated church and away. You have to wait until everyone's away to slip out as quietly as you slipped in.

"Hello," a sleepy voice drawls and the other side of the confessional, the proverbial sinner side, is suddenly occupied.

"Professor Wilkins, fancy seeing you here," you call out casually despite the fact that your heart was leaping into your chest.

"You too, my dear, especially since the majority of teachers thought you escaped by now."

"I didn't kill Eugene, I've got nothing to escape from," you insist sternly, petting Mr Red perhaps a tad aggressively now.

"No, I know you didn't. You don't have the grit for that," he yawns and shudders. "Blimey, it's cold in here."

"Do you know who killed him?"

At this, he quiets and drums his fingers against the wooden wall.

"I've taught in this university for a long time. I was here before Navarro, Kang and even Sodorov. I've seen all sorts of students pass by my lessons, some brighter, some dumber, some...plain evil."

"Professor, no offence, but I didn't ask for a lecture. It was a yes or no question."

He glances over his brown rimmed glasses and hugs himself to stay warm.

"Yes, I know who killed him. But no one will believe me without proof."

"So who is it?"

You exchange glances and he smiles dryly.

"I can't tell you yet."

"Why ever not?"

"Well because you will run off to Kang and she will make sure that the evidence rather points at you or them. It would be a grievous blow to the school if it should be revealed. No," he sighed, "evidence first, then the accusation."

"Why are you telling me this?" Mr Red begins to squirm in your lap and after a few harsh tugs, he breaks free and runs back into the wild.

"The evidence is on the roof, look at me," he pointed at his own withered, grey form, "I can't possibly climb up there. I need someone like you - spry and young. And most importantly desperate enough to do such a thing."

"If the school board ever found out you deliberately withheld information about Eugene's death -"

"They would fire me!" he finished gleefully. "And I would finally be free."

"You're doing all of this just to quit your job?" you blink, dumbfounded. "Why? Was the resignation form too mundane? Did the pen not fucking work?"

Wilkins once again sighed.

"I think you out of all people should understand how difficult it is to leave...St. Augustine. This place," he looks around in contempt so clear you can make it through the lattice, "once it grips you, it doesn't let you go. And I want to leave. I've been here for so long, I don't remember life outside these walls. And I'd like to remember. I really do."

You really want to remember too and you really want to leave which in a way only makes you more sceptical.

"How do I know you're not the killer who's luring me onto the roof so you could push me off?"

Professor's Wilkins' eyebrows shut up into his hairline.

"Young lady, do I look like I can throw healthy youngsters five stories down?"

No, if anything it was a surprise he wasn't half a rodent. Standing your eye level, he was every bit the frail, mousy little professor, who wore checkered cardigans, had stomach problems so frequent more than half of his classes were mutely cancelled and in your opinion, he ate too much cheese during the lunch. It would be a work of miracle for you to even traipse on the roof ledge and not crash headfirst into Earth's gravitational pull, let alone an old man.

"When do you want to meet?"

"Two days time."

"Why not tomorrow?" you dis.

"I need to make a copy of the keys. If the groundskeeper finds them missing even for a second, you and I'll get the blame for the poor boy's death, without a doubt. And we don't want that to happen."

Begrudgingly, you have to admit that no you really had other plans. Professor Wilkins takes your silence as an agreement and rubs his palms against his shivering shoulders.

"That's settled then! Oh, and also Kang locks up the church in ten minutes so I suggest you get quickly out."

Tomorrow comes quickly and with bloodshot, weary eyes, you watch the pale sun glide over the horizon's edge in the greeting of another day. This will be one of the last times you'll ever see it. The other side had no sun. The light of the sky changed, like a window glass reflecting the light but not embodying it. Not even stars. At night times it was only a dark dome, with nothing but the occasional moon. Funnily enough, that was the only object present in both realms. Maybe that's why it was needed to open the gate.

It's cold in the attic as you clutch the blanket you stole from your room. Cold and unforgiving with a heavy layer of dust, cobwebs and rats running around in the walls but you'd heard some heavy crashes from the hallways beneath and if it was Matthias better this abandoned spot that someplace else like underneath the bat he would brandish towards your face.

As you sit and sip on the sour tea from Sodorov's stolen thermos, your mind wanders to Jungkook. He'd appeared and disappeared without a thought. But you thought he was... But if he was, he wouldn't just leave you, would he? A terrifying thought crosses your mind. What if they don't want you back? Was there perhaps a grain of truth in Luara's stories? Could you have been nothing but a running blood bag to them? Nothing but a quick fix pathetically agreeable to being fed from? You nuzzle your nose in the blanket. Even if you were, you think spitefully, there were still places to go in the Other World. Dragon Realm, the City of Sprites! You remember seeing the pictures, each and every one of them more wondrous than the rest. Your world did not begin or end with them!.. no matter how much it felt like it.

The day passes by quickly. It's more difficult to mingle as every proceeds in a single line, guided by a teacher. Only by hair's end did you manage to slip some food out of the trays when they were pushed onto the serving tables. Keynan and Matthias are nowhere to be seen and neither is professor Wilkins. As six chimes strike the tower clock, the halls die out and everyone is locked in their rooms. Sneaking your way towards the attic, munching on a rather dry piece of bread, you hear voices quickly approaching the hallway you had swerved into. Looking left and right you seek a quick exit. It's the second story of the North Wing, no benches, no alcoves, not even the odd statue to hide behind. Nothing but the windows and their ledges. You huff at the madness but as the voices grow clearer and clearer and you can make out an absolutely infuriated Kang arguing with a dispassionate Inspector recounting something about witnesses and proof and protocol, your legs sprint into action themselves. If the police would hold you right now, they could potentially release you only after 48 hours, too late for the midnight of tomorrow's night. For some unknown reason, even to yourself, you clasp the bread in your mouth, biting into the crust so it wouldn't fall, as if that was what truly mattered.

Cringing, you yank open the latch that was installed in the windows in the 1960s after the infamous gas leak and, knees shaking, step onto the latch. The second floor was nevertheless high if looking down. Trembling all over you sidestep away to the left on the narrow footing, so as to not be completely visible in the window and wait, nails scraping against the too smooth stone.

Just don't fall, just don't fall, just don't fall.

"I will not allow my student to be taken into police custody without any evidence or an official warrant!" Kang yells so shrill you wince and then press yourself even harder against the wall. The ledge seems to grow smaller and more slippery by the second. God, you just want a firm ground underneath your feet.

"Ma'am, we have a reason to believe -"

"I said evidence not reasons!"

"Ma'am, you may be preventing a murderer-"

"Let me tell you what I'm preventing, your terroristic intimidation tactic! I will not allow you to arrest and put my students into holding cells where you can torture the confession out of them!"

"She has no alibi-!"

"The hell she doesn't! Andrewa already vouched for talking to her minutes before Eugene died! Do you suppose this girl is Usain Bolt as well? What, did she manage to talk to Andrewa, somehow get Eugene, drag him to the roof against his will and throw him off all in the span of eight minutes?"

They're both breathing fire at this point and you can only listen in affectionate surprise. Kang was defending you. In all the years you studied, never would you have guessed she would be putting a good word in for you instead of shifting the blame.

"I will not let you threaten my students, no matter how troubled they might be!"

People as it turned out were full of surprises.

"I - why is your window open?"

A minute of silence.

"I don't know why is it open! It's an old castle, Inspector. Are you going to question me why is there a draft as well?!" Kang huffed and approached the window.

No matter how you tried, your hand would not release the side of the wall, the only thing even vaguely resembling a safety. As Kang looks out there was no way she could not see a human hand clinging in her sight and since there was no one else who would need to escape the police this desperately and who would flaunt the rules this brazenly, there was also no way she didn't recognize who was standing on the window ledge. Still, she said nothing, didn't even waver and closed the window. Closed but not locked it. You could only breathe out a weak thank you into the cold air but you hope she hears it.

"Let's bring this to my office. The children are sleeping," she snapped and hastily lured the police away.

Just so, as your knees were starting to give out. Steadily, trying not to focus too much on the unforgiving ground underneath, you slide on the ledge, that ridiculous loaf of bread still in your mouth for some reason. Back facing the window you blindly bang at the glass trying to shove it open but being more than a hundred years old, it creeks but refuses to spread, remaining stuck. Oh just great, just wonderful, just fucking what you needed right now.

Inhaling great mouthfuls of air and clutching the sides of the stone wall like your life depends on it because it did, you lift one shaky leg and kick it against the wooden frame. A heavier sway but they don't open just yet. You kick again but suddenly your left leg sways and you lose balance. Everything inside you turns upside down when you realize you're in fact are falling. Your back hits the ledge so hard, you could swear your spine is bruised but that doesn't matter because there is nothing but air beneath your feet and your hands grasp around nothing. You were plummeting down the wall with nothing to save you from an unfortunate and rather stupid end.

All air escapes you and for a second you think it's because you've hit the ground already but after the initial shock, you realize that someone had grabbed your jacket and the neckline was digging in your throat. They shout something at you but all there is to hear is the terrifying ringing in your ears and the wind howling louder than ever as you dangle on a thread and the strength of this stranger's arms. Shoes scuffing against the rock you try to garner any kind of push, any sort of leeway to move yourself up but they merely kick at the wall, doing nothing to help. The stranger's fingers slip away one by one and with newfound horror, you sense you're about to fall again. Air once again rushes past your ears and this time you can swear you're about to enter heaven, or hell more precisely given the rather unvirtuous life you've led, when out of nowhere it is warm again and it's not the night and darkness hugging you but a body. A familiar scent and dark curls tickling your forehead.

Jungkook.

He grips you by the shoulders and shakes you so hard teeth rattle in your skull. You want to thank him but the words catch in your throat. He is furious. If that was even remotely close to the wrath in his eyes.

"What were you thinking? Are you trying to get yourself killed?" He shouts. "What if you fell and I wouldn't be near? What if you got hurt and I wouldn't be near?!"

What you want to do is the usual routine - either to tell him to fuck off or joke that the only thing you lost was the bread and not a leg but his sudden appearance stirs up emotions repressed deep, deep down.

"You left," you breathe out, accusatory, offended, lonely. He loosens the grip on your shoulders and still frowning, but gentle now leans down to touch his forehead against his.

"I didn't, Dearest, I was right here, just a hand's reach away," he whispers, lightly running his fingers against your hair.

Someone coughs and finally, you notice that there was another person present, probably your first saviour, which is surprisingly Keynan.

Jungkook moves faster before anyone can even notice and Keynan finds himself suspended against the wall, his neck caught in a death hold.

"You enjoy suffering, filth? You enjoy torture?" Jungkook asks him in a feigned calm, his voice was shaking as Keynan gasped for air, crutch falling onto the floor. "How about I give it to you?"

"Let him go!" you order.

Jungkook inclines his head, listening but not complying. Keynan's eyes began to roll in the back of his skull.

"I said let him go!" you order again, tone more resolute and firm. After a moment of stubborn silence, Jungkook lets the boy drop like a sack of potatoes.

"Mistress, you really should not be so generous with your mercy," he snarled and walked away, leaning against the window, pouting like a toy deprived child.

You run to Keynan and lightly prod at his cheeks. He bolts upright wheezing for breath.

"You're okay, you're okay," you try to reassure him as he trashes around. The longer he clings to you, the louder Jungkook's literal growl gets.

"I came..." Keynan cries, glancing left and right as if in the shadows there was some monster ready to pounce. "I came to warn you."

"What about?"

"It-it was Matthias who pushed Eugene off the roof. And he's coming to get you!"

previous | next

a/n: In my mind, St. Augustine looks something along the lines of this

but you're free to imagine whatever you like :)

150 notes · View notes

theredsuzuran · 3 years

Text

Douma x reader - Innocence

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Took me a long time to upload a new content am so sorry for the delay I was really busy with school assignments therefore I cannot manage the time to write. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors on my behalf, I hope you enjoy.

Warning : Dark themes like gore, blood and violence, degradation and swearing, mature content.

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The moon shone brightly above the sky as it's light leak through the branches illuminating the famous building of the eternal paradise cult. A new set of followers rushed into the dwelling in hopes of fulfilling their selfish desires, diminishing their agonies and enriching their possessions. However a particular human with her tattered kimono seem not to be interested to convey anything although the people around her would die to witness even a glimpse of the charismatic leader as for now she was busy running along the wide long corridors

The sound of thumping footsteps echoed throughout the building as a herd of followers attempted on catching the miscreant who disrupted the peaceful atmosphere prevailing over the supreme cult. The already annoyed and frustrated people were all worked up to catch the energetic human who on the other hand have thoughts of escaping this place they called paradise. If only she was careful enough to notice her mother's strange behavior soon as they entered the place but how can you possibly blame an innocent little girl like her, or so she thought. Afraid she might lose sight of her treacherous mother who abandoned her just moments ago she desparety stumbled her way out although that didn't concerned her simple thinking process but that's exactly how complicated the situation was.

Turning one last time to look behind if those weird people were still following her or not when suddenly she bumped into a Tall muscular figure standing infront of her soft delicate frame she must have missed him approaching while focusing on looking behind. "Please just leave me alone!" The girl fumed coherently still overwhelmed by the amount of people rushing towards her like waves something that she was not accustomed with as for eighteen years she lived indoors interacting rarely with anyone and playing with dolls most of the time.

"Watch your tongue brat" one of the men standing beside the tall man spoke with disgust hinted in his voice. "Crouch down you insolent woman, where's your gratitude it's because of lord Douma's benevolence that you are still here or you'd be rotting in the street thanks to your mother", the people around her started whispering and murmuring behind her back but she was not bother since her senses were filled with newfound wrath how dare they insult your angel like mother? No longer able to contain your anger you shouted with tears "Then take me to my mother, I don't want to stay here alone".

"Your mother abandoned you here so shut up and deal with it, now move your way for master" the man grunted irritatedly motioning the other followers to grab her and take her away.

"No don't touch me" she wiggled under their grip rushing towards douma blocking him from entering the room by grabbing his arm tightly "I am not going anywhere until I know where my mother is" she cried loudly making the demon flinch with surprise, how pitiful the creature looked in his polychromatic eyes. He have seen many humans crying before him for obvious reasons which honestly have become his monotonous routine but somehow this girl acted quite weird being her age, interesting him enough to investigate. As he was about to speak the man beside him pushed the girl hashly making her lose her balance and fall on the wooden floor.

"How dare you touch master with your filthy hands bitch" he lift his hand to slap her tight in the face but someone grabbed his wrist just in time to save the girl from further humiliation.

"Silence" all the questioning glances, judging looks and whispering stopped at once as douma spoke nonchalantly making the latter shiver in regret.

"I am sorry douma sama" the man uttered in pure horror having no intentions to displease his beloved lord. "I was-"

"I don't want to see that happen again, understood?" He replied coldly still maintaining his wide smile as the previous chaos shifted into complete hush. The man lowered his head down with shame nodding silently. Douma averted his attention and glanced at the figure underneath making the girl jolt a bit but his once frightening demeanor changed into a cheerful and optimistic one in matter of second upon seeing her.

"Please take her to my chamber and treat her wounds" the man clapped with a wide grin plastered on his face. A group of female servants came rushing to help picking her up. The girl being too bewildered did not protested and simply follow his tone as if she was hypnotized by his neatly decorated persona.

The girl was immediately taken away without delay and as per douma he needed to attend his cult duties. First of all she was washed and changed into a beautiful kimono as soon as she stepped inside, then she was escorted into a room filled with antiques and lavish items which she have never seen. Her face lit up with fascination as she began venturing those decorative pieces.

"Looks like you have ease down a bit, good good" A familiar tone struck in her ears startling her a bit only to turn back and view the handsome cult leader although it was a bit strange because she did not heard anyone approaching.

"Aww did I scared you?" He laughed covering his face with golden fans.

"No I was just- you came in without a warning, I was taken aback" she explained blushing trying her best not to act immature to which douma laughed uncontrollably as he found this human's expression adorable say entertaining in his words.

"D-dont laugh at me" she pouted crossing her arms in the attempt.

"I am sorry (y/n), you really amuse me" he replied still grinning. However there was a moment of awkward silence between them as he uttered her name abruptly.

"I didn't tell you my name.." after a long pause she replied to him with a confuse look in her face.

"I know everyone's name who are living under my supervision including yours besides what kind of cult leader I am if I don't have basic information about my fellow followers. Oh look I have been talking to you without giving the chance to let you talk my bad" he laughed again waving his fans creating another awkward situation. Causing you to sweatdrop on his remark.

"Say (y/n) how old are you?" to which she replied enthusiastically "I am 8 years old and will turn 9 soon"

"Ah you don't look like one" douma grinned closing his eyes in the process.

"Yeah I get that a lot" she remarked shyly.

"Your mother is one of my followers" he continued

"Really?" her eyes sparked with hope as she approached douma with anticipation grabbing his arms for the second time starling him, she really like holding hands eh? he have experiences like that but somehow this girl made him feel different so he allowed her but then she stopped halfway through her words "I really miss her it's been a week since she left me here" her voice dropped with sadness.

Douma felt no sympathy for humans or anything as such, he have learned to fake his emotions from a very tender age eversince he was born to the extent that even seeing his mother killing her husband mercilessly failed to evoke feelings within. He clearly did not understand what she was feeling he just stared at her with a blank expression only to replace it quickly with a grim look even faking few tears. "(Y/n) chan you know its okay you will still have me" he patted the girl in an attempt to comfort her.

"Friends?" (Y/n) replied between her tears.

"If that's how you want us to be" douma smiled at her gently shocking himself for a second because he didn't think of smiling?

Things escalated soon after that incident, (y/n) was a kind and compassionate person from inside and out and in not time the cult followers started loving her presence. As often douma would let her accompany him and most of the time she stayed by his side following him everywhere and he didn't mind that at all moreover he appreciated her company. (Y/n) was like a fresh bud to him who depicted innocence and purity he loved spoiling her with expensive gifts yet she never showed signs of greediness and genuinely appreciated his thoughtfulness slowly forgetting the past life she was in and cherishing her friendship with douma. At first she was reluctant and didn't like getting so much attention but in the course of time she bonded better with everyone and was quite content with the life she was leading. As for douma he began to depend on (y/n) to the point that not seeing her face for even one day would make him go insane and he didn't understand why not like he want to because all he cared about was how she made him feel so many varieties of pleasant emotions he wish he could feel. Eating her was out of context.

However all good things must come to an end for he is someone to not rest in peace after the sin he have committed for centuries. Seeing douma paying her more attention, spoiling her with a ravish lifestyle and even letting her stay by his side all the time made some of his cult members terribly envious they wanted to punish her for taking their chances of stealing the spotlight. There was this one room that he forbade his followers to enter for obvious reasons and specifically for (y/n) because he didn't want to repeat the same mistake. This was exactly what they wanted (y/n) to do break the rules and Douma's trust. Like that there would be no more favouritism on her with others.

"Ah (y/n), there you are" one of the female member approached her one fine morning.

"Yes how may I help you?" She asked cheerfully

"Lord douma have asked for your presence in the forbidden room tonight and he said its urgent"

"Aren't we all prohibited to go inside"

"Oh (y/n) it's true master have arrived today and he wants your presence"

Upon hearing that news her heart elated with happiness, it has been two weeks since he last saw douma around and she missed him but something felt off about the whole situation douma always sees (y/n) first before tending his followers then why did he not come meet her did he not miss her like she did?

She was lost in her thoughts until she found two hands waving and snapping infort of her face.

"Don't be late, okay?" With that said the female hurried back into other room leaving (y/n) behind even though the situation seem kinda odd maybe douma was busy afterall.

At night (y/n) went into the restricted area. She stood infront of the shoji door in absolute dilemma debating whether or not to enter the room or go back. There was her desire of meeting douma on one hand and not breaking his trust by entering the room on the other. In the end she decided not to but as she was turning back she heard someone grunting in pain behind the closed doors being a compassionate person, she decided to open the door and enter into the darkness adjusting her eyes in the process, a pungent smell hit her nostrils making her cover her mouth and to her absolute terror the scene infront of her made her puke in disgust.

A pile of Mutilated bodies, mostly women laid around lifelessly on the blood stained tatami mattress. Many having no limbs, some headless and organs missing from their body as if someone had ate all of that. The whole room was a mess full of unfortunate people. She felt sick and began crawling down her way back from the corpses. However she felt a tight grip on her left foot upon looking down she witness the sight of a woman her intestines oozing out of her stomach begging for help. (Y/n) stood there perplexed unable to say anything chocking through tears.

"I told you not to come here, why?" (Y/n) turned her head violently to see douma standing in a distance his countenance cold and sinister evident that he was highly displeased upon seeing his innocent flower disobeying his instructions.

"It's not... like... what you see" (y/n) cried fearfully but douma didn't seem to buy it well in a blink of an eye she found herself in Douma's arms as he aggressively dragged her out of the room.

"What's going on douma" no word came out from the usual lively douma.

"It's hurting me your grip" no reply again to which she forcefully tried to stand still with all her strength. This time douma stopped his features hidden under his bangs making her unable to figure the expression he was carrying.

"Is this why douma forbade us to enter the room" no reply

"Are you responsible for murdering those innocent people?" No reply

"DOUMA" she shouted

"Why you want to join them?" Douma finally looked at her his eyes glowing dangerously proving his existence to be something unnatural. (Y/n's) eyes widen at his remarks as tears rolled down her visage.

"I hate you.." she murmured

"What?" He tilted his head letting his guard down a bit at her hurtful comments.

"I HATE YOU" she pushed douma roughly and flew from the place running deep into the forest for she knew who he was and what he is capable of doing. Tearing down she constantly reminisce the moments she shared but she cannot allow herself to sympathize his heinous crimes. Why is it that the people I love are always taken away from me? She thought. Exhausted from running she halted in order to catch her breath while glancing back to see if he was following, there was no one indeed so a sudden feeling of relief gushed in her body. However turning her head back she saw him standing inches apart from her face which made her shiver and fall onto the knees.

"Why are you running away from me (y/n)" he said apatheticly his head lowered at her level. She did not reply and stayed quite.

"Is it true that you don't love me after all the things I did for you?" Covering his face with one hand his eyes glowing under the moonlight a look of dejection written on his face. There was complete silence in the forest except the sound of rustling trees.

"Answer me" holding her face now firmly he growled making her flinch under his breath. In one last desperate attempt (y/n) tried to stab douma with a tree branch she found laying on the ground but unfortunately douma was faster and easily dodged the attack and in a swift motion he hit her with immense strength causing her fragile little body to tremble in pain as she coughed mucus mixed with blood.

"How foolish of you" he crouched down her height staring intensely at the quivering figure of the miserable girl. As for (y/n) her body ached but more was the tightness in the chest that she was experiencing in the moment.

He pulled her by the hair roughly making her scream in pain although at this point all she could manage with her cracking voice were inaudible screams.

"Why did you disobey me? (Y/n)..." who knew beneath that friendly kind face was hiding a undeniably deadly and calculative demon and at this point it was clear for her that he was anything but human.

"Who are you?" these few words manage to escape from her shaky lips in between low grunts.

"I am the leader of the eternal paradise cult"

"Wrong" to which he tightened his grip making her shriek again.

"You humans are so dumb believing in the existence of primordial deities where in reality its just a myth, a fairytale, created for pleasuring the sufferings of mere human. Being superior than you mortals I wanted to make these pitiful existence happy and that's why I was born and what you saw there" his lips curved into a cheeky smile revealing his deadly fangs creeping the shit out of the already scared girl. "I eat them so that they can always be with me and attain salvation" a sinister laughter escape from his mouth as he covered it with his golden fans. (Y/n) unable to process the new sets of information knots formed in her stomach making her sick in the guts.

"I ate your mother too, oh she was ungrateful after all the things I did to her just like you" protruding her eyes with pure shock she felt her veins popping out and blood boiling in pure rage.

"You are a monster, you think your stupid morals would persuade people to think like you do, I despise you douma I thought we were friends and you took away the one I cherished the most?"

"You think your mother loved you?" Douma snapped. The duality of this was man was insane, all the things he does or says are plastic.

"She never cared for your life, you want to know why? I will tell you since you insist" douma dragged her out of forest holding a fistful of her hair tightly inflicting great discomfort to the girl while he continued with his harsh statements and deliberate insults.

"You were just a burden, behaving like a fucking child with the alluring body of yours"

"No my mother promised me..she would protect me.. you are lying"

"While you were crying everyday inside my shrine that lowly woman enjoyed her life indulging in adultery with various cult members leaving her sick husband and mentally retarded daughter in the dark" every word he uttered spread vemon into her ears.

"Still she wanted more and more and more, what a greedy whore" douma continued.

"Do you know how much difficult it was for me to control myself around you? While you sway your hips and act innocently making those hungry men lust over you, how much dumb can you be?"

"What do you mean I don't understand.. douma"

"I did everything I can for you yet you remain ungrateful, disrespectful? Well guess its runs in your blood and I thought you are innocent but it turns out that you are just like the rest of them, naive"

Her eyes widened with every hurtful remarks he made about her and she did not understand why she felt that way shouldn't she be resentful towards him for killing her beloved mother but here she is weeping constantly because douma was treating her like he never did before.

"But that's fine (y/n) I can not bring myself to hurt you I love you and we shall always be together whether you like it or not" nothing reached in her ears anymore as her body grew numb. Her eyes shut as she carried the unbearable pain in her heart slowly loosing consciousness and remaining sanity.

It would have been easier if she died but alas a mere human like her is doomed at his mercy.

#douma #douma kny #douma x reader #kny x reader #kny douma #demon slayer #fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #upper moons #upper moon 2

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fanmoose12 · 3 years

Text

Nifa Strikes Back

Levi hates St. Valentine’s Day with burning passion. The only thing that makes this holiday somewhat bearable to him is a little tradition he shares with his best friend Hange. But after hearing the news that Hange is going to skip the years-long ritual to go on a date with someone else, Levi is faced with conflicting and severely confusing feelings.

thanks @innocent-ghost-demon for the idea! (i’m sorry it took me so long to actually write it lmao)

In Levi's personal opinion, St. Valentine's Day was the worst holiday of them all. It was meaningless and explorative and it served no other purpose than to fill the pockets of flowers and chocolate sellers. Levi hated it with burning passion, getting groceries in the weeks leading to the forsaken holiday was the cruelest torture, as he was immensely annoyed by big pink hearts and cute figurines with naked babies on display. It was almost impossible for him not to gag.

The only thing that quelled his hatred towards this day was a small tradition he shared with his best friend Hange. It had started years ago, when they were still in college. Hange's boyfriend had dumped her - she was heartbroken and upset, while Levi was furious and ready to go, find that bastard and beat the shit out of him for making Hange cry. Naturally, as college students, they knew only one way to deal with that kind of complicated feelings - get absolutely wasted at the local bar. Next morning they woke up with the worst hangovers of their lives and vowed to never repeat the same mistake.

But next year, Hange was rejected by a girl she wanted to ask on a date, and, like a good friend he was, Levi once again offered his shoulder for Hange to cry on. And once again they've found themselves clinging to each other as they shakily stumbled towards their dorm.

They got drunk that year again. And that's what they've been doing every year after that.

It was the only thing that got Levi through the awful holiday. Because of that, he was actually looking forward to it.

***

"Hey, four-eyes," Levi looked over the wall that separated their cubicles, throwing a small piece of paper to get Hange's attention. "Is your place as messy as usual? Or have you cleaned it for the occasion?"

"Huh?" Hange raised her eyes from a screen, pushing the glasses up her nose. "What do you mean?"

Another paper was thrown at Hange. This one landed on her lap.

"The shitty holiday, Hange. It's this weekend. So are we going to your place of mine?"

"Oh," Hange raised her hand, rubbing her neck. "About that..."

Levi frowned, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. Did he hear a twinge of hesitation in Hange's voice? That was unusual. What could it mean?

"I can't go this year."

His frown turned into a scowl. "Why the fuck not?"

"I have a date."

Levi blinked. Hange's words... surprised him. And more than that, his own reaction surprised him. He felt displeased, but not just that. He was angry, he was disappointed. He was sad?

"You're going on a date?" he asked, cursing the weakness that colored his voice. What was going on with him?

"Yeah, sorry," Hange gave him an apologetic smile. "With all this work, I forgot to tell you about it."

"That's fine," he answered, even though it wasn't fine. Hange was going on a date, and Levi wasn't fine with it. Why wasn't he? Hange was his best friend, he was supposed to feel happy for her, right? Did it mean that he was a bad friend?

No, Levi decided. He wasn't a bad friend, he was a good one. He was worried about Hange, he had seen her get hurt by someone else, and he simply didn't wish to repeat the experience.

"Who is your date?"

Was it someone from the office, he wondered. If it was their co-worker, that'd be good, Levi could keep an eye on them then. But what if they start dating? Would Hange stop spending her lunch-breaks with him? Would she go and bother someone else if she's bored? Would she pay less attention to him?

Levi shot that train of thought as quickly as it appeared. He didn’t like thinking about it. It made him feel weird. It made him upset.

"It's Nifa's cousin, she set us up. I don't know the guy yet," Hange shrugged. "But if he's at least half as cute as Nifa, then it's worth a shot, eh?"

She looked at him then, tilting her head and smiling. It was Levi's cue to congratulate her and wish her luck. Or express his pity towards the guy. Instead there was an unpleasant, ugly feeling inside him. Hange broke their years-long tradition. To go on a date. With someone else.

And it pissed him off.

"Levi?" Hange reached out to him, grasping the sleeve of his jacket with her fingers. "Are you alright? You look a bit weird. Are you upset that we won't be hanging out this year? I'm sorry about that, I'll make it up to you."

"You don't have to," he grunted, shaking Hange's hand off. He turned around, feeling the acute need to leave. The concern on Hange’s face was annoying him. "Have fun on your date and don't worry about me. I wasn't looking forward to our get-together anyway."

*** It took Levi two days to admit his own weakness.

He promised to himself to ignore Hange. To forget about her stupid date and stupid feelings it had provoked in him.

But then he saw Nifa alone in the hallway and he just had to ask.

He approached the girl, stopping just behind her shoulder. "Your cousin," his rough, low voice made Nifa jump. She didn't hear him walk up to her. "Is he a good man?"

Despite a scare Levi just gave her, Nifa's lips lifted into a smug smirk. She looked at Levi, observing him closely. His face was as blank as always, but his shoulders were uncharacteristically tight and his eyes showed even more annoyance than usual.

Her plan was working.

"Cousin Greg?" Nifa twirled a lock of hair around her finger. "He's great! I think Hange would get along with him!"

Cousin Greg wasn't that great actually. In fact, he was quite boring and very annoying. But Nifa wanted to help her superiors admit their feelings for each other and Greg owed her a favor after that time when she had covered for him during the grannies' birthday. Hange didn't have to like him. In fact, if she starts liking him, it'd destroy all of Nifa's plans.

Hange didn't have to like Greg. And Levi didn't have to like the fact that Hange was going on a date with him.

Evidently, the most important part of her plan already proved to be a success.

"He won't hurt four-eyes, right?" Levi asked, a shadow of worry passing through his eyes.

"He won't," Nifa promised with a serious face. Inside, however, she could barely contain herself. Levi was so concerned! It was so cute! Nifa needed to share these news with someone, and quick.

"Alright," Levi pressed his lips together and nodded. "Thanks." He added before walking away, his head bowed and shoulders slumped.

As she watched him go, Nifa's heart constricted painfully. Levi looked so miserable, just like a kicked puppy. She actually felt bad for him.

It was for his own good, she had to remind herself. She was doing him a favor. Levi, no, Hange too - both of them - will later thank her for this. She was doing a right thing.

Nifa repeated these words a couple of times and then rushed over to the break room, where she knew she would most surely find Moblit. Her best friend would be thrilled to hear about her success.

*** He wasn't brooding, he told himself as he threw another disgustingly sweet candy in his mouth.

He wasn't sulking, Levi thought, as he put the glass of wine to his lips. It was awful. He had been drinking this brand of wine for years, but he never noticed how mawkish it was. Hange’s taste in wine was as horrible as her taste in romantic partners.

He didn't care about Hange and her stupid date, Levi tried to convince himself, paying only half of his attention to the movie.

On his TV screen Harry ran away from Sally after their first night together, and Levi scoffed at his stupidity. It was obvious they're in love with each other, why couldn’t they just admit it? They were both idiots and this movie was stupid, Levi decided. Why Hange liked it so much was beyond him.

***

Harry and Sally started arguing at the wedding, when Levi's phone started ringing. He made no move to get up and pick it. It couldn't be Hange calling, because she was on a date. And if that was Erwin, informing him of some emergency at work, he could kindly go and fuck himself. It was Levi's day-off and he was allowed to be as miserable as he wanted in the coziness of his apartment.

After a few seconds his phone fell silent, but before Levi could sigh with relief and continue watching the movie, he heard a few pings that announced that he had received a couple of messages. Erwin wasn't one for texting, and that got Levi wondering who was trying to get into contact with him.

Was it Petra, inviting him to a bar with others from their office?

Or, maybe, that was Yeager or any of his friends, wishing him a happy holiday?

Either way, Levi decided to ignore the messages too. If it was Petra, she'd understand his desire to be left alone. And if the messages were from any of their interns, then Levi most certainly didn't want to deal with that. It was bad enough they'd given him chocolate at work. It made him feel like he was a high school teacher, not a partner of the law firm.

He shouldn’t support this kind of behavior, Levi decided and returned his attention to the movie.

*** Levi was halfway through a bottle of wine and Harry was ready to confess to Sally.

Fucking finally, he thought, pouring himself more wine. What kind of idiots waste twelve years denying the feelings they have for each other? Just when Harry was going to say those three little words, someone knocked on Levi's front door. With glass of wine still lifted to his lips, Levi paused the movie and stared at the door, wondering who could be fearless enough to visit him at ten pm.

As he continued to sit and ponder on it, the initially soft knocks turned into vicious bangs.

Cursing at the impatient idiot, Levi put the glass down and got to his feet, marching to the door with a glare on his face.

He threw the door open and— froze, blinking in surprise.

Hange stood on a threshold, holding a bottle of wine in her hands and wearing a wide grin on her lips.

"Will you be my Valentine?"

Levi bit his cheek to keep himself from blurting out 'yes'.

"What happened to your other one?" he asked instead, putting on a mask of cold indifference.

"Ah," she ruffled her hair. "He was actually boring as hell. Not even half as cute as Nifa," she shrugged. "I guess she's the sole owner of all adorable genes in their family."

Levi scoffed, plucking his lips. He would not give Hange the satisfaction of laughing at her lame joke. "Your date turned out to be a moron, so what? You've decided to come and bother me?"

"Yeah? Would you let me in or not?"

Levi knew he could put up a fight. He could tell Hange how annoying and inconsiderate she was. But he also knew that it would result in absolutely nothing. Hange would still get what she wants. He would still let her get what she wants. Because in all the years of their friendship he hadn't learned how to say no to her.

So with an irritated tsk and a shake of his head, Levi took a step back, allowing Hange to come inside.

"Did you bring something, except wine?" he asked while Hange was busy taking off her shoes.

"Yes!" Hange passed him her handbag.

Levi opened, finding chocolate inside. Lots of chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate.

"Four-eyes. Did you rob the candy shop?" he inquired dryly.

"No!" Hange snickered. "These are gifts."

Levi had received chocolate too. His collection wasn't quite as vast as Hange's, though.

"Are all of these from brats?"

"Some are from my team. Where's your chocolate, by the way? If I received so many, I can't even imagine how much you got."

"It seems like this year you're more popular than me," Levi pointed at only a couple of box of chocolates on his coffee table.

Hange's face fell after his words. She even opened her mouth, probably with the intent to apologize or, god forbid, comfort him. Levi scowled, silently telling Hange the misplaced pity to herself. He didn't really care about such trivial matters.

And he was more than happy to find out how well-loved Hange was. She deserved nothing less than that after all.

"Don't just stand there," he snapped, when Hange continued to stare at him without saying anything or even moving.

Hange lifted the corners of her lips and hurried after Levi to the living room.

"Oh!" as soon as she saw what was on the TV screen, she clasped her hands in delight. "When Harry Meets Sally! I love this movie!"

I know, Levi almost said.

"And it's one of my favorite scenes!" Hange continued to gash. She plopped down on Levi's sofa with a wide grin.

However, as she took a closer look on a coffee table, her excitement diminished considerably.

"Two glasses?" she mumbled, frowning in confusion. "Are you waiting for someone?"

"No, it's just..."

A habit, Levi realized. He put two glasses simply out of habit. He was so used to drinking with Hange that he had taken two glasses without even thinking.

"It's nothing," he finished awkwardly. "Let's watch the movie."

Hange stared him for a second, her eyes wary. But then she snapped out of it and a smile returned to her lips. She waited until Levi took his place on a sofa and then put her head on his thigh.

"Must you always do it?" Levi complained without making a single move to change their position. "I'm not a piece of furniture, you know."

"Just put on a movie, Levi," Hange mumbled, too used to his constant bitching to have any kind of reaction to it.

"So bossy," he huffed, but took the remote in his hands and resumed the movie.

On a screen, Harry was confessing to Sally.

"It's kinda bizarre, don't you think?" Hange asked. "They knew each other for so long and yet they've realized their true feelings only years after."

"It's a movie, Hange."

"So you think it's unrealistic?" she lifted her head to stare at him. "That two people can be close friends for years and continue to be blind, refusing to see how much they need each other?"

"I think you have to be unbelievably dense to not realize that you're in love with your best friend."

Hange giggled, and the quiet sound was like music to Levi's ears. "Yeah, maybe, you're right. They're really dense."

"Idiots," Levi agreed, laying a hand on her shoulder and pulling her closer.

#it's too short but it's been a hell of a busy week for me so sorry about that :)#hope you still enjoy it!#also if anyone gets the reference about cousin greg i'll kiss you on the lips <3 #valentinesdaywithhange #levihan #levihan fanfiction

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curious-menace · 3 years

Note

Can you do headcanons of any Riddler getting cared for and gentle kisses from reader after getting beat up? He needs some loves.

SO I MAY HAVE SUGGESTED THAT MY ULTIMATE FANTASY IS TO GIVE RIDDLER A HUG WITH BACKRUBS AS HE TELLS ME ABOUT HIS DAY AND I STAND BY THAT WHOLE-HEARTEDLY .

i freaking love this stuff so im going to do all of them mwahahah

post asswoop riddlers getting loves

Arkham riddler

He’s VERY quiet, which knowing him and his inability to stop talking, is bad news.

I paint arkham riddler as a cry baby and i stand by that. this is the hill i will die on. He’ll have dragged his sorry ass into your apartment or house , dripping blood on your floors but he wont bother calling for you. he’ll just sit at the table with his head in his hands having a lil pity party until you find him.

when you do finally get home, he’ll be looking like a kicked puppy. he’s gotten stuck in his own head, mentally beating himself up even more. he got a fright when you came in because he was so caught up he didn't even hear you at the door.

He’s literally sits there like a child with his arms up for you to come scoop him up. he’s not even sure why his first thought after getting beat up was to come here, he’s probably lead the cops here or something and that was so stupid and- you should probably give him a lil soft smooch on the head to stop him before he goes into a spiral.

he needs more emotional and mental care than physical. Talk to him while you're patching him up. any topic, it doesn't matter just keep him focused on your voice and not the one in his head calling him dumb.

he wont admit he wants to be held and coddled after something like this. get your softest blankie and 2 mugs of coco with marshmallows and just ramble at him. tell him about your day or ask him to explain something boring and complicated so he’s focusing on that rather than how upset he is. let him sit on your lap or between your legs on the sofa and watch how its made or mythbusters or something until he falls asleep. he should be ok again in the morning, he doesnt stay down for long.

Blacklight Riddler

He’s used to getting his ass kicked, either by batman, the other rogues or once he’s a PI, by unhappy clients and the people he put away. He might be tiny but he’s pretty tough.

even if he’s really hurting, his probably trying to crack jokes and tell blood and bruise related riddles. He doesn't like to see you worry so even if he’s in a lot of pain or a bit upset about things, he’s trying to make you smile.

he likes kisses on his bruises. even if he just banged his hand on the table he’ll come to you because he wants you to kiss it better.

He’s a decent fighter, unlike a lot of riddlers who couldnt fight their way out of a paper bag. He can throw punches but he lacks in defence and with his bad knee, dodging can be a little hard. even if he wins the fight he’s still likely to need you to patch him up.

He likes kids plasters. like hello kitty and spongebob. no im not joking, he ALWAYS wanted them when he was little and his parents always said no. now he’s an adult he’s going to use them whenever he damn well pleases.

if it was a particularly bad one, he’ll be ok in the moment even if he has to go to hospital. But he’s going to drop the facade at some point and let you see how upset he is. winding up in hospital after being beat was a common occurrence in childhood. even after doing it time and time again as an adult it doesn't make it any easier on him. he’ll want to stay in your bed, be close to you for few days until either he starts to heal or something snaps him out of his funk.

BTAS Riddler

he really prefers other people to do the fighting for him. well physically anyway. he can handle his own arguments...most of the time. He’s going to need you to nurse a bruised ego more than anything. he probably got dunked on my batman or crane and now he’s huffing.

i don't know if this counts as care and kisses but he clearly needs you around to keep his sorry ass alive. he hurt his side in a fight once and said he wasn't hurt. believable... until he started to act a little confused, a little dizzy. needless to say it worried you enough to take him to emergency care.

He was obviously in agony by now but he was still fighting with you the entire drive there, insulting you and insisting he was fine. its a good job you took him when he did, turns out he’d ruptured his spleen and would probably be dead if you weren’t around to act like his common sense.

he still hasnt apologised for that. or any of the other times you insisted on medical care to stop him from pushing up daisies. he just pretends like you know he’s grateful so he doenst have to admit he’s bullheaded, stubborn and worst of all, wrong.

if he has been seriously hurt, he acts more indignant about it than anything. he wants to be waited on and pampered while resting in bed. he can be a genuine pain to deal with, talking about how lucky you are to see him in such a vulnerable state and how you should be grateful he’s letting you do this for him.

He doesn't want to admit how much he actually needs you. his goons wont put up with him when he’s like this and he’s freaking paying them to do it. you do it for free and no matter how annoying he is you havent left him yet. he doesn't tell you but youve noticed he starts getting you more gifts about a week after he’s recovered. like its taken him a day or two to work out he should probably thank you for all you do.

Original Riddler

this riddler is just weird. like he gets a freaking hang nail and he pretends like he’s dying. but he could nearly lose a limb and he’ll say “tis but a scratch” and still try to hobble about like nothing is wrong.

actually he’s more like olaf “oh look i've been impaled.”. he probably tries to laugh off life threatening injuries like its nothing, taking maybe 3 steps before he collapses on his face in a blood puddle and lets out a tiny “help”

good luck moving his tall lanky ass around. better get a gurney and maybe those vets at the zoo who deal with giraffes. seriously if you want to take care of him you are going to need help or some sort of action plan and a go bag because with his limp butt this will not be easy.

he’s kinda like BTAS riddler in that he needs you to tell him the injury is serious. hes not dumb he just has a high pain threshold and genuinely doesn't realise that injuries are as bad as they are.

he can be a bit of a baby while being patched up. he doesn't like a lot of blood or gore, it makes him feel a little sicky. better give him your phone to play with like a kid at the doctors or put the tv on for him to watch while you bandage him. word of warning, he will pass out or throw up if you try to give him stitches.

i think you should focus your love and attention on him AFTER medical care. just focus on the job, be silent and as fast as possible to get it over with quickly. you should probably bring him something sweet too. no not just you, although you are sweet for looking after him. give him something sugary because he’s going to be light headed after seeing any blood. maybe you could give him a lolly for being a good patient.

Telltale riddler

this riddler is essentially a metahuman. he can REALLY take a beating and bounce back fairly quickly. just look how many times batman punched him in the face and it barely stunned him! he doesnt usually need patched up after a fight. maybe just a lil smooch and some hugs

he did really need your help after the whole pact thing. having his friends abandon him hurt like hell, more than any physical injury ever could.

after that, he clings to you. almost obsessively so; we know he’s got some serious mental illnesses but he usually has the worst of it under control, even without meds. now? it seems like he’s experiencing ptsd and is afraid to go anywhere without you, like you might up and disappear if you arent in his line of sight at all times.

i think this riddler might need the most intense care from you. hugs and gentle reassurance wont be enough. you’re going to be responsible for taking him to therapy, keeping him taking his meds and grounding him to reality. this is the kind of responsibility you took on when you got involved with him but i doubt you realised how hard it would be. i cant promise it will all be worth it but i can promise he wont ever forget your kindness.

the kind of care he needs after such a hard knocking down is just stability. im not one for romance or any mushy gushy stuff but please just pour your love into the cracks in this poor mans soul.

its hard going, but he has his moments. his gallows sense of humor is still there and hey, after him being in and out and gone for so long, it might be nice to have him around more.

Zero year riddler

INSUFFERABLE LITTLE SHIT THIS ONE. he could LITERALLY be bleeding out in your arms and he’d STILL be backseat driving on your medical skills. the temptation to just leave him there to bleed is INCREDIBLE.

he’ll drop the act eventually. he’ll ask and maybe even beg for your help. man has no shame and all the self preservation instincts of a lemming. dont get me wrong, he can be a total coward some times, only looking out for himself . but when he’s actually hurt ? not a fuckin clue. does this head wound need an ice pack or heat pack? is this spurring blood wound worthy of medical care? no idea. he was a very sheltered child who never got so much as a bruise so he has no idea what to do when he’s hurt.

he gets the everloving shit kicked out of him on a clockwork basis. like you could hear knocking on your door at 3 am and already be at the table with a first aid kit like oh its tuesday riddler must have broken his nose.

he takes entirely too much joy in making you patch him up. youre starting to wonder if he’s doing it on purpose just to see you in your little apron and latex gloves . he’s getting off on this and you know it but god help you, you just cant resist his dumb face asking for your help and would you also wear this pink nurses outfit while youre at it?

one time he lost a LOT of blood. he would be fine but he was pretty damn loopy from lightheadedness. while you were trying to get him into bed to rest he started flirting with you. can you believe the audacity? he’s lost 3 pints of blood and he’s still more focus on his libido?

he’s actually going to be both humble and grateful for your help when he finally comes round. dont get me wrong, he’s still a bit of a prick but at least he says thank you for saving him before he demands you kiss all his booboos and ouchies.

nonnie i am having a stroke. i was trying SO hard to just pick one but i COULDNT because i am WEAK for hurt and comfort.

theres a reason i have a tag that literally says “i have naughty hands and no self control”

someone needs to stage an intervention

got something you wana talk about? send me an ask or a dm! im always game to talk about our favorite curious menace 💚💜

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blouisparadise · 4 years

Photo

Upon request, here is part two of our mpreg Louis fic rec list. The first part of this rec list was done a while ago and can be found here. Happy reading!

1) Always Coming Back To You | Explicit | 4749 words

Harry's been missing Louis for eight days, and eight days without his Omega feels like decades in his pre-rut state.

Louis happens to come back to him earlier than planned.

2) Through The Storm | Mature | 6497 words

Note: This fic has no smut, but it is MPreg Louis so we included it.

Harry and Louis' marriage has hit a rough patch. A much needed week vacation in Jamaica just may be the second chance their relationship needs. What could possibly go wrong?

The answer?

Everything.

3) You Can Show Me Your Heart | Explicit | 6935 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Everyone knows about the unsinkable Titanic, which tragically did just that in April of 1912. However, not many people know the story of the Carpathia - the ship that raced to rescue and aid the survivors of the Titanic when the distress call came through. This is the story of the events leading up to the luxury liner crashing into an iceberg on that fateful spring night. More than that, this is the story of how two of Carpathia’s passengers - Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson - met, fell in love and helped over 700 people in the cold Atlantic water.

4) Cooking with Styles | Explicit | 9119 words

Anyone can cook— or so they say.

5) Something To Prove | Explicit | 9425 words

Louis is the first and only omega to work at Red Valley Medical Center. Despite being more than qualified, he still faces prejudice for his career choice everyday. From patients refusing his treatment to condescending alpha doctors intervening with his work, practicing medicine in Boston is more challenging than Louis had ever thought it would be.

6) We Will Get Through This | Explicit | 11219 words

Because of quarantine, Louis has to stay home with his roommate, Harry, who he's never really hung out with before. He's a sweet alpha who seems to really care and that annoys the hell out of Louis. But as he gets to know the alpha, he realizes it might not be dislike that he's feeling.

7) Easily | Explicit | 13588 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic.

Years later, Harry and Louis are as strong as ever and more than ready to take the next step in the story of their lives. It gets a little weird, a little confusing, but at the end of the day, it is as easy as can be.

8) Baby Honey | Explicit | 14744 words

Note: The pairing in this fic is Alex/Louis.

When the next great war strikes, all alphas have to ship out. Alex leaves a little more behind than some of the others.

9) The Post-War BP | Explicit | 17732 words

The eight year war has left the country's birthrate severely stunted with a lack of virile alphas left to bring it back up. To ensure the survival of the country, the government opens The Breeding Program where young omegas can apply to carry an alpha's child in exchange for benefits. Louis' family is struggling and the BP is one of the only ways to secure a roof over their heads. Harry was drafted at the age of eighteen and spent six years of his life defending a country he doesn't recognize when he returns home. The government made the bed but it's Harry that has to lie in it.

10) Souls; Plural, Parallel | Teen & Up | 19679 words

Note: This fic has no smut, but it is MPreg Louis so we included it.

Soulmates are rare, the sort of rare that means everyone has a story about a friend's sister's coworker or a brother's roommate's cousin. But the fact of the matter is that most people never meet theirs. It's unfortunate then, that Louis finds out the hard way that he met his soulmate in a club, and the guy never texted him back.

11) Be Mine, Dear | Not Rated | 20104 words

It really wasn’t fair. He was the oldest of all of them. He’s the one who dreamed about being bonded his whole life, while Liam laughed at the idea, until he met Sophia. Niall had always been indifferent, but when he met Heather six months ago, everything changed for him. He quickly went from being the only omega around two alpha’s, to the odd omega out. And it really wasn’t fair, because Liam and Niall both still protected him just as much as the did before, just as much they do their new mates now, but he was still bitter about it, so he’d pity himself as much as he wanted.

12) Oops, Baby, I Love You (In That Order) | Explicit | 25344 words

The minute Louis Tomlinson decides he don’t need no man to start a family, Harry Styles literally falls into his arms.

13) I’m Having Your Baby (It's None of Your Business) | Mature | 26383 words

A bet can cost you a lot. Harry learns this in the weirdest of ways.

Louis just wanted a baby, and he got so much more.

14) The Things I'd Do To Wake Up Next To You | Mature | 36109 words

AU. Harry wakes up to a pregnant Louis Tomlinson and a wedding band on his finger.

15) If I Stay | Mature | 37226 words

Harry and Louis agree to a temporary arrangement that Harry can't seem to walk away from no matter how many times he tries.

16) You Put the Sun in Sunday | Mature | 42319 words

Louis is a love-brainwashed-teenager of hope drenched in dreams, clad in oversized clothes damaged with holes, and standing waist-high in novels. Harry is a selfish closeted football captain with a head too big for his heart, and a bad habit of not thinking before he opens his mouth. No one ever said love was easy, Louis learned the hard way.

17) Flash Forward (We’re Taking On The World Together) | Explicit | 44273 words

In which Omega Louis and Alpha Harry are absolutely perfect for each other and say I love you too much.

18) Every Story Has Its Scars, Ours Is A Brand New Start | Mature | 62859 words

Life as a devoted husband and an amazing father turned out to be a little different than Louis had expected. Everyone tells him it doesn't have to be that way; that he's worth more and that he's so much stronger than any one person trying to keep him down. It's all just words though until he meets the one person who makes him truly believe it.

19) Such Good Luck | Explicit | 66205 words

An Edwardian AU where Harry is a young aristocratic lord and Louis is a working class dairy farmer. Secrets are a necessary part of their relationship, but Louis has one that could topple their whole world.

20) Things I Can't | Not Rated | 67495 words

Louis has a plan for his life. He’s going to be the first in his family to finish college. He’s going to be a doctor - the best damn doctor in the country. And he’s going to work his ass off to make sure his younger siblings never have to wonder whether they have the means to pursue their dreams.

He doesn’t have space in his plan for a relationship with an effortlessly alluring musician, and certainly not for the child that unexpectedly results from that union. Louis is at a crossroads he never thought to plan for, and now he must make a decision: between what he wants now, and what he wants most.

21) I’m Still Learning To Love | General Audiences | 74695 words

Note: This fic has no smut, but it is MPreg Louis so we included it.

An AU where Harry has almost everything in the world except for the will to move on.

22) I Want You So Much (But I Hate Your Guts) | Mature | 83648 words

AU in which Louis gets accepted to play for the Manchester University Alpha-Beta Football Team. The only problem: Louis is actually an Omega. He is determined to make it big in the football world, though, and he can't do that bound to an Omega team. With the help of a faked doctor's certificate and some pretty strong suppressants he is ready to fight for his dream.

That Harry Styles (Alpha, second year and youngest football captain of the A-B team in ages) doesn't seem to like him complicates matters, though.

23) Fucking Animals | Explicit | 116688 words

Louis is the frontman of an equal rights-movement, author of a book about beta-omega marriage and the struggles of being born and boxed into a personality you don’t necessarily feel you fit. The notion that an omega must want to be with an alpha or else he or she’s just settling for less, is bullshit.

But, fucking hell.

24) Be My Omega | Mature | 138372 words

It all started when the alpha laid eyes on the short curvy omega and he knew at that moment that his life would never be the same, in a good way of course.

25) Cold Little Heart | Teen & Up | 194600 words

Louis is a soft omega with an abusive past and an alpha child. A few months after getting a divorce, Louis meets Harry, an ex-military alpha wolf that offers him something -odd.

In exchange for teaching him how to cook, Harry will babysit his son, Abraham. Louis really could use the help.

26) Love Me Until The End | Mature | 207130 words

AU where Louis, an Omega, is the head nurse of the hospital in charge of running the nursing staff. Harry, an Alpha, is a highly respected surgeon working at the same hospital. They also happen to fall in love.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#fic recs #mpreg #bottom louis #top harry #mpreg louis #blp fic recs #blp #larry

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thistangledbrain · 3 years

Text

Day 19 & 20!

Day 19 - “I hate it when...”

As you’ve gleaned from prior posts, I hate it when you forget autism is a developmental disorder and not an intellectual one. We are so. Fucking. Tired. Of being treated as lesser, or like we don’t understand what you’re saying to us.

Outside of the reactions to others’ behavior, though, I have some personal “I hate it when”...I’ve let you into my mind and told you what I appreciate about how my brain works, but there are things I don’t like, for sure.

I hate that personal stressor things trigger a toddler-like need to SHUT DOWN. Like writing this blog, for example...the vulnerability I feel usually leads to a need to go to sleep for a long time, once I’m finished. Or after a long day socializing. I don’t want to talk to anyone, I don’t want to engage my brain anymore, I just need to shut all systems down and sleep. Especially if there’s been a meltdown (meltdown—->shutdown)...and oh boy do I hate meltdowns. They’re really rare, thank dog.

I hate that my executive function is an absolute bag of ass. This is probably the biggest thing I would change. It got infinitely worse when my disability got bad (EDS), for some reason. And it drives me up the damn wall.

I hate my low function days/moments. It’s like my brain just won’t kick into gear, or the gears and wheels are rusty and grinding, & it’s rather anxiety inducing. I usually “hide” on my low days, sometimes in my darkened bedroom, and watch favorite shows or movies, or get lost in a good book - if I can. On low days I find myself re-reading crap constantly because it’s not making any sense, so I’ll even avoid complicated recipes...I have no idea why these days/moments happen, but boy do they piss me off/make me anxious (that’s kind of the same thing for me. My anxiety nearly always manifests as anger). On my low days, you’ll see (if you were a fly on the wall, because I suppress this even around my own family), me walking in tight, anxious figure 8’s and flapping my hands in a distressed way, as I anxiously try to mentally kick my brain into gear. (It doesn’t work, but it IS a little soothing. And my dogs are SO sweet...they gather around me tightly and just seem to know I need them.)

🤷🏻‍♀️ There’s probably more I could expound on that I don’t like, but writing this one has been pretty distasteful. I try not to dwell on things I hate anymore, so I’ve put this entry down multiple times and come back to it when I’m in a decent frame of mind. I think I’m tired of talking about it now, so I’m gonna just stop talking.....

Which is a good segue into Day 20 -

————————————-

“Communication”

Ahh communication. This entry will be long, because I have a lot to communicate LOL....

Personally, I write far more coherently and eloquently than I speak. My brain goes too fast...I often trip over words; my brain’s three steps ahead of what’s coming out of my mouth and I get scrambled sometimes. I can also take the time to think about what I want to say/HOW I want to say it. Like many autistics, I’m a blurter. LOL...I am constantly trying to remind myself, just because I think it, doesn’t mean I have to say it. This gets a LOT of us in trouble...one of my most memorable examples is, I *loudly* blurted “that’s BULLSHIT!!” in a church one time. (I was speaking on how my devout Methodist grandmother, who regularly takes communion at her church, was not permitted to receive communion in a Catholic church, merely because she isn’t Catholic, despite the fact that this woman is all about some Jesus & a devoted churchgoer - not just on Easter and Christmas.) In my defense, it WAS (IS) bullshit. I just didn’t need to practically yell that in church. As you can imagine, it was like a needle scratching across a record & everyone turned to stare. (My poor husband rescued me.) 🤦🏻‍♀️ Sigh. It’s a good idea to keep me out of most church services.

I am rather famous (infamous?) for calling bullshit straight to someone’s face, BLUNTLY. It’s out of my mouth before my brain’s “tact gatekeeper” I’ve spent over a decade trying to train is even half awake at his post (it’s a him because my husband is the one who taught me how to use tact in the first place. And it’s a him because said “gatekeeper” is lazy and falls asleep on the job all the time 😆). Have you ever just blurted your honest thoughts and heard shocked gasps or someone just busts out laughing? Yeah. That happens to me regularly. Or uncomfortable chuckles and someone will blink a few times and say, “oohhhkay, well, you could said that a different way.” (My old response to that was, I’m not responsible for what your reaction is to what I say...you’re in charge of your own feelings. I *understand* now how irresponsible and unfeeling that is, and I try to keep that in the front of my mind, even when I’m frustrated and nearly burning up with the desire to speak my thoughts in their raw form, but this is routinely an area I struggle to adapt to...and I am very sorry when I hurt someone I care about.)

On the other side of this same coin though, this is a trait my friends respect deeply, because I’m not cruel hearted or anything. You always know where you stand with me, and I’m the last person to try and lie to you. I SUUUUUCK at lying. And on the rare times when I do, I usually end up eventually telling on myself (this drove my older stepsister NUTS when we were kids, because she liked to do lots of sneaky things, and I don’t have an inherently sneaky nature LOL...so “DO NOT tell momma” was a *serious* risk for her, if she let me tag along 😂). Lying to someone just feels disgusting. Oily. Shameful. I hate lying. Plus, my short term memory is a grabasstic bag of CRAP, so there’s a good chance I won’t remember the lie and get caught anyway. 🤷🏻‍♀️ My boys also suck at lying or hiding stuff, and generally prefer not to...but I also give them a safe forum to be honest. (I’m sure there’s LOTS of crap I don’t know, but you’d be surprised how much they DO tell me.)

Another thing with me personally is that I go mute sometimes. I’m not being deliberately obstinate. I’m not REFUSING to speak in those moments...sometimes I literally can’t, and the effort of doing so will make me gag, or even projectile vomit. Sounds very dramatic, doesn’t it? It is. (And it annoys the SHIT out of me.) There’s not a fucking thing i can do about it. The movement of my tongue in my mouth will literally begin to trigger my gag reflex, and if I try to power through it, I’m rewarded with my lunch returning to the surface anyway, regardless of my desires, and sometimes rather unexpectedly & violently. USUALLY this happens when I’m uber stressed, but sometimes it seems kind of out of the blue & catches even me off guard. If this happens but I still have something to say, I start texting instead, and explain. Most people - especially my hubby - are very kind when this happens. (I don’t want your pity, I just want you to switch to written communication for a minute until I can figuratively kick the fuck out of the engine in my “speaking center” and get it to work again.) Other times, I will literally get tired of talking. Like my mouth and tongue - and somehow, the “word forming” part of my brain feels physically exhausted (weird, I know, but I also spend the vast majority of my life silent - I am home alone all day, hate talking on the phone, and simply don’t speak much, by choice. So maybe it is actual “mouth fatigue” 😂😂😂 - I’ve stopped eating before because I just got tired of chewing, too, even though I’m still somewhat hungry. 🙄) I am usually *perfectly* happy to keep listening! And I’ll stay engaged in the conversation usually. I am just...done audibly talking. I’ll literally say “my mouth is tired of making the sounds now, but please keep going”...but I think my husband is the only one who doesn’t find this unusual, and rolls with it. It usually happens after a long, animated conversation...instead of winding down, though, it just..stops. If I try to keep going, cue the gagging. I can stay engaged in the conversation if you let me start writing/typing instead of speaking, for my responses. So that’s a “fun” little trait of mine that many neurotypicals find unsettling. Please don’t take it personally. My mouth just doesn’t want to make the words anymore - and I’m probably mostly done adding what I needed to add to the conversation anyway. I’m a great listener when this happens, though. 😆

Communication is a really interesting thing with all of us, because it’s a struggle on one level or another. I will tell you, it’s a frequent topic in my groups. “WHY CAN’T NEUROTYPICALS JUST SAY WHAT THE FUCK THEY MEAN?!?! 😩😩😩” I’m dead serious - you might think, because we’re sensitive (generally), we can’t “handle” it? You’d be so very wrong. What we can’t handle is when you dance around a subject or we have to try and translate what you just said to us (which most of us are not that good at). Just fucking say it! Nine times out of ten, you’ll just get a look of dawning realization and a “oh, shit, okay” response. We can handle it. Just. Say. It. We’ll respect you a lot more in the morning, LOL 😆

I think every autistic has some sort of beef with neurotypicals when it comes to communication (as I’m sure you have yours with us, obviously).

You guys operate under some weird ass rules that we simply don’t understand - especially if you don’t tell us those rules & just expect us to know. Like, if my husband hadn’t patiently taken years to show/teach me how the way I said certain things were hurtful, I would still be in the “yeah she’s cool but she’s kind of an asshole” territory. (I still struggle to grasp this, or at least it still frustrates me....truth is truth, whether it’s an ironclad general fact or your own personal truth - and yes sometimes the truth hurts, but like...I don’t pin any responsibly for that on the truth teller, if that makes sense?)

Working in rescue also helped hone my ability to speak “neurotypically” to others - I work with a LOT of women, and boy do a lot of them NOT appreciate when you bluntly tell them what you think. Men on the other hand....

I know *lots* of autistic women who prefer friendships with men, largely centering around this communication thing. We hurt men’s feelings a little less regularly than other women’s. I know I was like that, until I got a little more used to how I have to modify my communication with most women (but that annoys me, I’m gonna be honest - it annoys my Autie friends, too). The only time I am as starkly blunt as I used to be, is when speaking to my female Autie friends (because they can handle it), or most of the dudes I’m friends with. But if my message is getting “lost in the sauce” and you’re not getting my point, I usually give a frustrated sigh, WARN you that I’m about to tell you flatly what I need to say, because we aren’t getting anywhere, and just say it.

Yes I am the friend who, when you gush on and on about your new back yard bred puppy, talking all about how you’re gonna breed him when he grows up, is gonna flatly say “he’s not breeding quality”, if they’re not. Then I’m gonna ask you why you want to do such a thing, given that you’re aware of the massive load of rescue dogs (PARTICULARLY Great Danes and Cane Corsos) - and probably beat your argument down every step of the way. That doesn’t always go badly though - one of my closest friends was considering breeding their dog, and while it was a beautiful dog, it was not one that should reproduce (from an “improve the breed” perspective). We barely knew each other, but I gained a reputation for being kind but starkly honest...and I knew what I was talking about...and now I have this person’s deep respect, and they have mine (because they listened and did the research I asked them to - and did not add to the breed population). So it’s not *always* a trainwreck, because the people who end up respecting how I communicate, usually end up VERY close friends. AND I WANT THAT IN RETURN, which is refreshing for a LOT of people. I want your dead honesty in return - PLEASE. It’s so much easier for me to process and accept. For example, my house is almost constantly in some sort of disarray. I have one friend who will come in and go, “girl. I almost can’t breathe in here - this clutter is too much”(and then she offers to help me tackle it!!).

Or, fairly recently, “oh my god those curtains are so horrible, I hope you’re getting rid of those when you redo this room.”

“But I MADE those curtains! I love that print!”

“Ugh. No. They’re terrible. Get rid of them.”

My feelings were not hurt in the LEAST (I of course had a flash of “you bitch, I was so excited to find that print and I MADE THOSE, ya jerk” 😂). At first I said, “well you’re just gonna have to suck it up and deal with my shitty curtains, because I like them” 😂, but then as I was redoing the room, I took them down...and it DID look a lot better, so I left them down 😂😂😂....

So I guess my point with all this is: every autie I know deeply wishes you’d just fucking spit it out. We WILL often miss or misinterpret the point if you “fluff” it too much (around my neck of the woods, we call it putting too much gild on the lily, though I’ve never understood that one. Idk if a “gilded lily” is/was ever a thing, why anyone would gild a lily in the first place...LOTS of us struggle with colloquialisms that don’t make literal sense. 😆 Recently a friend was baffled over “shit in one hand and wish in the other and see which fills up faster”, and fully half of the respondents to her post were people baffled by why anyone would shit in their hand - I and a couple others had to explain, and it just ended with them going “well that’s a fucking stupid saying anyway, and wishes aren’t things you can put in your hands, either” 😂😂😂...but I’m from the south, and these things are just part of our vocab. MOST of them are easy to grasp for me, like “nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs”, because I immediately picture it and can grasp the meaning. But others I don’t get - the gilded lily is one LOL)...

We are LITERAL AS FUCK. It’s why we ruin lots of jokes, too. My poor husband is the dad joke king - and I ruin fully 1/3 or more of his jokes by being too literal (which he also finds amusing, so that’s good). Sometimes we realize we’re ruining the joke but we don’t care, because it’s dumb, or we just .... can’t....HELP IT. 😩😂

Jeez, I could almost write all day about autistics and communication LOL!!

But to summarize (and not succinctly, sorry), I guess, for me and many many others...we are often blunt, direct, almost painfully honest, and very, very literal. Your unspoken rules of communication absolutely go over our heads, unless you - yannow - *communicate* and explain them. We’ll probably tell you those rules are stupid and exhausting, but we will TRY and stick to it as best we can. But see, we literally have to think about every single word that comes out of our mouths, because we communicate far more directly than you weird fuckers do. And it is literally actually exhausting. It’s not an easily natural thing for us to adapt to, your weird way of saying things but not saying what you really mean. You’re wasting a LOT of words there, sir, and we are now getting obsessively confused over why you would do such a thing. 😂 It’s also why I keep getting banned from Facebook. My recent one was because I said - in one of my Autie “safe” groups, where I should be able to just say what I mean - that I tend to punch or want to punch people who deliberately startle the shit out of me. We were talking about how stupid April Fool’s Day was, and how we hate pranks. Three of us got banned for 30 days for just...well. Facebook called it “incitement of violence”. 🙄🥺🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼

But I haven’t met - yet, maybe? - an autistic person who is cruel natured - not one of us gets any joy from being a bully type. WE feel everything on a higher level, so we kind of assume you do, too...you might think, “then why are you such an asshole?!”, but it’s simply that we - or every Autie I know, anyway - struggle to grasp how directly communicating your feelings is so fuckin hard or hurtful for y’all. I think anyone struggles to grasp something they themselves don’t experience. All you have to do is explain, though, and keep guiding us towards communicating in ways that we both find acceptable. I mean we’re champs at accepting all manner of different human - regardless of race, sexuality, and so on - but the communication is one area that frustrates the ever loving SHIT out of most of us, because it makes so little logical sense why anyone would say a bunch of useless words that muddy up their intent.

My closing advice? Help Your Pet Autie ™️ (this is absolutely a tongue in cheek term btw) understand how you’d like to be communicated with, and guide us. BE SPECIFIC for fucks sake - we suck at guessing what you might want, and it’s so frustrating that we’ll often just stop communicating at all. Instead of saying “it hurts me when you say this”, try saying “the WAY you said this hurt my feelings because of ____. Maybe you could put it like this instead” (or, “you know, you should really just keep shit like that to yourself”) and *give examples*. Don’t expect us to come up with different ways of saying shit, because we don’t understand what it is specifically you want, and it’s not very logical, therefore it’s not “natural” for us. Plus, everyone is different. I can’t talk to one of my sons the same way I can talk to the other, without certain negative reactions. Give us a chance to know your needs - we DO CARE!!! - but be CLEAR. I know in your world, tact is a big deal, but MOST of us will miss the fucking point if you’re too tactful (and when we misinterpret, we always err on the side of worst case scenario, and make the issue wayyyyy bigger than it should be. Being clear is soooo important).

And hey. Maybe it’ll help clear up some communication in other areas of your life. Being clear isn’t a license to be a fucking asshole; nobody’s giving you a license to unleash on everyone about how much you can’t stand humans...if WE hafta be quiet about that, so do you lmao...fair’s fair. 😆 But quit hedging and hinting and hoping we will pick up on the whatever your grievance is - because we won’t. We’ll just know you’re unhappy, and start panicking over guessing what we did wrong, and just shut down, because we have no idea.

Just. Fucking. Say it. 😘

#asd #autism #autistic #acceptance #awareness #actuallyautistic

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bakudekuficlibrary · 4 years

Note

Finally!! Good luck with the changes and welcome to the new members. Here my question: do you know any rock!Au fics? Either bakugou or izuku or both like member of a band? It could be explicit or no. And it can be in canon universe or no. Thank you :3

Happy new year and thanks for all your patience! I am eternally bananas over the Rock Band AU, so I scoured the interwebs and put together a mini-list for ya (my personal favorites are right at the top)!^^

~Gabs ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

1 Series. 16 works.

Tire Swing by ElopeToTheSea ( T | 21,061+ | 4/? )

After being kicked out of college, Bakugou Katsuki decided to go back to his hometown. Back to the friends he knew, back to what he was familiar with, back to simpler times.

However, Midoriya Izuku wasn’t familiar. He was strange, he was confusing and he was hurting.

Bakugou couldn’t help being entranced by the anomaly. Especially when he had the voice of an angel.

Surpassing Expectations by Mewphisto ( M | 4,273+ | 1/? )

DEKU! goes on tour with Ground Zero thanks to some great connections and sheer luck. Izuku, DEKU!’s guitarist, is one of Ground Zero’s biggest fans, and feels extremely lucky for the opportunity to tour with his idols. He’s even more grateful when they get to share a tour bus, after all, part of the reason Izuku chased a music career was because of his crush on Ground Zero’s lead singer, Bakugou Katsuki.

Even so, Izuku never expected the grumpy singer would be attracted to him as well, not with his ugly scars and annoying personality. But Bakugou Katsuki was always surpassing expectations, and with six months on tour together, he had plenty of time to demonstrate.

Friends and Friends of Friends by songbrd ( E | 30,933+ | 6/? )

No one purposefully follows their grade school bully into university. But as Midoriya Izuku arrives at UA on freshman move-in day, he realizes he may have done just that.

[Series] Impulse Control by orphan_account ( E | 12,093 | 2 Works | Complete )

Izuku never did anything without a plan, without forethought, without looking into every possible outcome and weighing the pros and cons of each.

But something about Katsuki made him want to be impulsive.

The Space Between by Kanae_vR ( M | 115, 583+ | 20/24 )

Holding his expensive camera tightly between his hands, Midoriya Izuku looked up at the once-white letters displayed on the black storefront banner. “The Hard Luck Bar,” he murmured to himself, unsure if he was getting ready to enter or flee.

Amateur photographer Midoriya Izuku is stuck in a rut and desperate for a change of pace. Deep in his city’s grimy underbelly, he finds exactly what he’s looking for in the form of an underground punk sensation on the verge of their big break, fronted by a foul-mouthed firework of a human being.

Loud, brash and passionate, Izuku may have just found the creative spark he needed, as well as something new to set his soul ablaze.

Without You I’m Nothing by BrightEyesEren ( T | 16,661 | 5/5 )

Katsuki Bakugou has gone his entire life without understanding how someone could give into their feelings. As long as he has music, there’s no need for anything else to get in his way; it’s a way to get through everything. He’s convinced that nothing could possibly stop him… At least until he meets Izuku.

For the 2018 BakuDeku Big Bang.

Drummer boy blues by Natsumiofgames ( T | 1,862 | 1/1 )

Bakugou was pissed.

And that was the nicest way to put it.

As per usual, the whole fucking world couldn’t let him be happy. It’s not Bakugou’s fault he’s obviously destined to be the best, so why does something always have to get in his way?

All Bakugou wanted to do was to take a holiday and relax at home, maybe watch those Crimson Riots DVD Kirishima had been hyping up with a few drinks to get the night going.

All in the company of Deku, the dense dumbass Bakugou had the misfortune to fall so hard for.

But instead he finds himself, in Chicago, one of biggest music cities in America and the last venue his band, Ground Zero, was playing at on their tour.

What’s a guy to do when the show must go on?

Magnolia Dreams by ElopeToTheSea ( T | 7,098 | 1/1 )

“Kaachan!” Deku’s voice. Sweet and cheerful, like a midday breeze. He was looking at him with those big bright green eyes, holding a flower crown in his hands. “Look what I did!”

“What’s that, Deku?” he asked. He was five, flower crowns weren’t something he was familiar with.

“Mom taught me how to make them,” he replied, placing the flower crown on top of his head. “They’re called flower crowns! I made mine of Magnolias!”

“They’re so lame,” he snickered. The field they were sitting on was covered in flowers. From white lilies to purple orchids. They all bloomed in spring. “A true crown is made of metal, idiot!”

[Major Character Death]

I Miss the Music by InkspillsNotebook ( E | 22,800+ | 4/? )

Inspired by the prompt by pennyforyourotp on tumblr of:‘You’re a really famous actor/musician and I’m your childhood friend that shows up a lot on your Instagram/Twitter/Snapchat and people have started shipping us which is really bad for my crush on you that I’ve been trying to hide’

Founder of the number one band ‘Ground Zero’ and lead guitarist, Katsuki Bakugou, takes a vacation before an upcoming tour. Upon returning home, he strives to convince childhood friend, and secret love interest, Izuku Midoriya, to abandon his internship hunt and come on tour with him to once more be apart of each others lives, and write music together again.

Seven Stages by Mikacrispy ( E | 2,022+ | 1/7 )

The 7 Stages of Dealing with a Confession from your Best Friend

Katsuki confesses and Izuku’s whole world view changes.Izuku is involuntarily thrown on a journey of self-discovery to find out what love and sexuality mean to him.

drumbeats & heartbeats by katsugoii ( M | 12,194+ | 5/? )

College— it was a place where fresh adults could start to find themselves and what they wanted to be. All Katsuki’s friends had been bubbling with excitement, but as for him, he didn’t really see what the big deal was. He was there to get his degree and then move on. It was just another branch on the tree of life. He would get up in the morning, go to the gym, go to class, and then either do homework or practice with his band. The only difference now compared to before was that he didn’t have to deal with the old hag, and he’d be on his own, which he supposed was a relief.

However, when he saw a tiny, curly-haired boy with a ridiculous amount of freckles splattered over his cheeks, on his tiptoes to hang a poster next to his desk on one side of the dorm— Katsuki thought they might have had a point.

Hard Habit to Break by Takiewrites ( G | 3,359+ | 1/? )

“Um, ‘zuku. It’s- hi, I’m uh, I-Izuku.” His voice wasn’t as loud or stable as he hoped it would be. He cleared his throat as Ochako covered her mouth to hide a giggle.

“Hah? Fuckin’ speak up, for fuck’s sake.” Bakugou shifted to his other foot, radiating annoyance. “Deku? That’s yer name?” Izuku quickly shook his head, opening his mouth to speak before Bakugou cut him off, “Cool, Deku.“

Or the one where Izuku is a big-bi-mess and gets the hots for a lead singer of a punk band.

Let Me Down Slowly by BrofriendWrites( Not Rated | 2,001+ | 1/5 )

When Plus Ultra’s lead singer loses her voice right before The Battle of the Bands, Izuku and Iida have to find a female lead singer with high range ASAP in order to still participate.

Luckily or unluckily, Izuku finds salvation in his angry classmate, Katsuki Bakugou, who he bribes into helping them.

Notes: Going to be a cute, short-ish fic. Maybe 15k-25k words in total. Just had this on my mind lately and needed to get singer!bakugou out of my system and hopefully clear my writers block. Enjoy watching Izuku lose his mind while trying to process pretty Katsuki singing :)

[Underage]

From Chaos [Comes Clarity] by cosmikuri ( M | 4,732+ | 2/? )

Izuku Midoriya was just following his dream: fronting a rock band and leading his friends to the top. Well, attempting to, anyway. Things became more complicated when he met a certain hotheaded blonde, who happened to be a part of the rival band.

It will take a while by abovetheclouds14 ( Not Rated | 2,698+ | 3/? )

Katsuki may seem to be intimidating but he has a soft heart - in fact, he loves soft things. His current obsession? The softest guy he ever laid his eyes to, one who has fluffy green curls and mesmerizing freckles; he goes with the name - Izuku, the newest addition to the bar he’s working for.

Katsuki wants to know everything about this new guy but it will take a while :)

My Sweet Baby by yumenoyousei ( G | 5,070 | 2/2 )

Izuku noted mentally his new facts on the angry blond. First, his name was Katsuki. Second, he liked sweets and whipped cream. Third, he gave weird nicknames to his friends. And last, he was actually very hot.

Don’t need your pity by thedeathofyouboo ( M | 3,292+ | 2/? )

Izuku has 3 jobs not including caring for his deadbeat father. When a blonde rich kid stumbles into his life he finds himself in a band with a bunch of over protective friends. Will he ever get to have his dream of going to the UA music academy or will everything be for nothing?

#BakuDeku #KatsuDeku #BNHA #fic rec #bkdkfl ask #long post #curator gabs

205 notes · View notes

homespork-review · 4 years

Text

HOMESPORK ACT 5 ACT 1: Mobius Double Plusungood, Part 3

TW: """funny""" sexual and physical assault of a child by another child, extreme bullying, extreme ableism, a very brief discussion of shipping characters outside their canon sexuality.

CHEL: We get some implications of the part of troll culture we ended on last time when a slightly baffled-looking Nepeta, watching through the viewport, updates her SHIPPING WALL. Instead of hearts, some of the hypothetical pairings she’s painted are marked with diamonds. What this means will be explained shortly.

I can’t help but feel it’s slightly creepy to hypothetically matchmake your own friends, but I’m pretty sure the other trolls know at least that the shipping wall exists if not exactly which ships they’re in, and they do live in a society in which it’s stated later that mating is mandatory, so it would indeed be helpful to have at least emergency-doable matchmaking done well in advance and they might appreciate the help.

I’d like to take a moment to note a ship at the bottom row, left of centre; GA/Tavros. Hussie, on his Formspring, later said that GA was “obviously” a lesbian, or anyway was only interested in women, which doesn’t have a specific term for it in troll culture. It’s actually hard to tell going by what’s shown in canon, because she only displays specific interest in girls except for in a complicated case we’ll discuss later, but trolls are supposed to be bi-normative, plus it’s not like the male selection here is particularly inspiring, so, yeah, the evidence we actually see isn't conclusively "obvious". The fandom, knowing this, systematically harass anyone who even muses vaguely about the possibility of shipping her with a boy, even if they don't know about that Word of God. This is why I’m wondering whether the trolls knew about the shipping wall, because if they did, we can presume GA didn’t care. For the record, I’m sex-repulsed ace and have in fact written about.my own imaginary persona fucking (admittedly fucking an opposite sex clone of herself, it was a complicated injoke) and my reaction to someone else writing it would depend on context and reason, so I can imagine her reacting similarly, but not everyone would. A similar thing with a canonically gay male character explicitly on-screen not caring about hypothetical shipping of himself with girls comes up much later; he’s not a troll, but his upbringing was troll-influenced (long story).

BRIGHT: Harassing people over the ships they make content for always baffles me. It’s not like fanart/fanfic for a ship which contradicts canon has any effect on the canon, and playing around with character dynamics (often in a pornographic manner) is a major part of fanfic.

CHEL: On top of all this, gender and sexuality are really shaky concepts to even try to apply to a species which reproduces hermaphroditically. On this side of the fourth wall it’s obviously because Hussie is a not-very-reflective cisgender heterosexual man, and didn’t think about it any further than “girls wear skirts, right?” Plenty of people fanwank up possibilities for how it could happen on the other side. I think we may have to make a “What The Fuck Is Alternian Biology And Sociology” post or two separate from the sporking at the very end.

Discourse discussion over! Next page, we see some of the relevant terminology used in troll culture, though we still don’t get any explanation of what any of the words actually mean, which is a tad annoying for new readers. The context is a discussion between Karkat and Vriska about getting her into the game.

BRIGHT: Specifically, Karkat wants Vriska to get Tavros into the game, leading to this exchange…

CG: WHY DO YOU EVEN HATE HIM, IT'S FUCKING RIDICULOUS. CG: IF ANYTHING YOU SHOULD PITY HIM. CG: ESPECIALLY SINCE YOU WERE THE ONE WHO PARALYZED HIM. AG: I know. I don't really understand it. AG: It's just a really special kind of h8! It never goes away and it doesn't make a lot of sense. CG: THIS IS KIND OF A WEIRD TIME TO BE CONFIDING IN ME ABOUT YOUR FEELINGS OF BLACK ROMANCE BUT OK. AG: Oh god, what? CG: I MEAN IF YOU'RE REALLY IMPLYING TAVROS IS YOUR KISMESIS I THINK YOU'RE BRAYING UP THE WRONG FROND NUB. CG: BOTH PARTIES HAVE TO HATE EACH OTHER EQUALLY, I MEAN LIKE TRUE HATE. CG: MAYBE YOUR FEELINGS COME SOMEWHAT CLOSE TO FITTING THE BILL BUT I DON'T THINK HE CAN HATE ANYONE, IT'S WEIRD, HE'S KIND OF BROKEN IN THE HEAD.

Finally, our long-awaited introduction to troll romance!

And the introduction is an effective one. We now know that there’s something called ‘black romance’, that it concerns hate, and that one’s black-romantic partner is a ‘kismesis’. The conversation also flows naturally and fits the characters having it, rather than being an awkward as-you-know infodump, although brace yourselves, there’s one of those coming up. Thirteen is about right for kids starting to have romantic feelings and being confused about it, not wanting to talk about it is pretty normal, and Karkat lecturing people at a good opportunity is absolutely in character.

Karkat goes on to lecture Vriska about the emotions involved in different sorts of romantic relationships, and wow, it really says a lot about troll culture…

CG: OK, MOST PEOPLE WHO HAVEN'T HAD THEIR LOBE STEM CAUTERIZED ARE CAPABLE OF FEELING THE TWO PRIMARY EMOTIONS, HATE AND PITY. CG: PITY IS OF COURSE JUST THE TONED DOWN VERSION OF THE CENTRAL EMOTION, HATE. CG: AND ALL THE NUANCES OF PITY MANIFEST AS VARIOUS OTHER KINDS OF FEELINGS LIKE WHATEVER CHEMICAL REACTIONS TRIGGER MATING FONDNESS OR THE MYSTERIOUS FORCES THAT ARE BEHIND MOIRALLEGIANCE.

CHEL: It’s never really clear if this is just Karkat’s idea of it or if this is how trolls actually work biologically. Trolls do use the word “love” later on, so I always interpreted it as “pity” being a euphemistic term because “love” in such a warlike and oppressive culture could be exploited as a weakness. Fandom has played it with their love actually being based on a weird form of sympathy/seeing the other as needing protection, which is also plausible.

FAILURE ARTIST: I have played with the pity thing before but in retrospect Karkat is the only one who seems to see it that way. Maybe this is all his fake deep teenager view of romance.

BRIGHT: Vriska makes a performance of how bored she is, but Karkat’s on a roll.

CG: A WELL BALANCED PERSON IS IS GOING TO HAVE A GOOD DISTRIBUTION BETWEEN HATE AND THE VARIOUS PITY HUMORS. CG: HAVING A GOOD BALANCE KEEPS ALL THE EMOTIONS SHARPER, SEE I THINK THAT'S YOUR PROBLEM. AG: Oh???????? AG: I hope you know I already wore out some good note-taking pens today. All the pens. AG: All of them. CG: SEE, MY HATE IS LIKE A FINELY TUNED INSTRUMENT BECAUSE I'M AWARE OF THESE PRINCIPLES. CG: I COULD HATE A HOLE IN PARADOX SPACE ITSELF, STRAIGHT THROUGH TO A NEW REALITY FRESH FOR THE HATING. AG: Hahahahahahahaha, you don't even know how much I'm laughing at this. CG: BUT SEE, YOU'RE TOO HEAVY ON THE HATE SIDE, OR AT LEAST YOU PRETEND TO BE WHICH IS MAYBE WORSE. AG: You aren't reading anything I say are you? You just want to talk and talk and talk. CG: AND YOU THINK YOU'RE HATING UP EVERYONE HARD WHEN YOU'RE REALLY JUST BURNING OUT THAT ENTIRE EMOTIONAL HEMISPHERE. CG: IT'S LIKE LUKEWARM HATE. PRETENDER'S HATE, WITH NO COUNTERPOINT AT ALL. CG: AS SUCH THERE'S NO REAL SUBSTANCE TO YOUR HATE, IT'S LIKE A CARDBOARD MOVIE PROP. CG: WHICH IS WHY YOUR BRAIN IS BROKEN, KIND OF LIKE TAVROS'S BUT ON THE OPPOSITE HEMISPHERE I GUESS. CG: OR MAYBE YOUR BROKEN BRAIN LED TO THE IMBALANCE IN THE FIRST PLACE, I DON'T KNOW. CG: WHATEVER THE CASE IS, YOU'RE KIND OF EMOTIONALLY SCREWED, SORRY TO SAY. CG: YOUR HATE'S TOO DULL FOR A PROPER KISMESIS, IN MY OPINION. CG: AND I DON'T SEE ANYONE CHOMPING AT THE BIT TO BE YOUR MOIRAIL HONESTLY, UNLESS THERE'S SOMEONE OUT THERE WHO WOULD ACTUALLY BOTHER PITYING YOU. CG: AND LANDING A MATESPRIT? HAHAHAHA! CG: SERIOUSLY, LIKE THAT WOULD EVEN INTEREST YOU. CG: BASICALLY ANY FEATURE OF YOUR EMOTIONAL PROFILE THAT USUALLY MAKES SOMEONE VIABLE IN THE REDROM DEPARTMENT MUST BE TOTALLY FRIED. CG: YOUR BLACKROM POTENTIAL'S PROBABLY TOAST TOO.

Whew.

So now we have ‘kismesis’, ‘moirail’, and ‘matesprit’ as terms for romantic partners, as well as the concepts of black romance, red romance, and ‘moirallegiance’ as the relationship one has with a moirail. Troll romance is not going to get any less confusing for a while.

If Karkat’s grasp of psychology strikes you as amateurish, there’s a reason for that: He gets all his knowledge from romance movies.

AG: Hey asshole, stop watching movies for girls.

I think that’s another strike against the ‘girls are the dangerous ones on Alternia’ argument. Romance movies, per this exchange, are both female-coded and seen as inferior -- Karkat defends his viewing choices by saying they’re INTRIGUING SOCIOLOGICALLY, but Vriska isn’t buying it.

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 42 WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 33

CHEL: I’m not sure an interest in the workings of romance should be a socially gendered thing in a society where, as it turns out, you have to have an acceptable romantic partner by a certain time or die. You’d think most kids would be trying as hard as they could to learn and put into practice everything they could about it, and you’d also think there’d be better information for them than romcoms.

BRIGHT: Has the mate-or-die part come up yet? I’m not sure when Hussie thought of it.

CHEL: I don’t know if he’d thought of it yet, but it does come up very soon.

BRIGHT: Karkat then moves on to the original reason he contacted Vriska -- he needs her and her mind powers in the game, because he’s just run into a double agent called Jack.

Over on the next panel, Karkat is still talking to Vriska, but he’s glancing back over his shoulder at Jack Noir. His hand is covered in blood, which keeps cycling through a range of colours. The blood, it transpires, is because Jack stabbed him. Karkat is amazingly calm about this.

CG: HE'S COOL, IT'S FINE I DON'T REALLY MIND THE STABBING, IT WAS ALL A MISUNDERSTANDING. CG: WELL OK I'M PRETTY SURE HE MEANT TO STAB ME. CG: BUT I KIND OF THINK THAT'S LIKE CG: THE WAY HE GREETS PEOPLE? AG: This game is so stupid. CG: IN ANY CASE I THINK HE'S PROBABLY ALL STABBED OUT.

This would be ridiculously chill even from someone who isn’t extremely cagey about his blood colour -- and it’s not that Karkat suddenly doesn’t care any more, because as soon as Vriska says she’ll ask Terezi or Jack what colour he’s bleeding, he tells her that he’s out of Terezi’s range, Jack is sworn to secrecy, and Sollux (who’s incommunicado) is the only one who knows how to make Trollian’s viewport feature work. (Given we saw how easy it is to use earlier, I’m surprised Vriska doesn’t try to figure it out herself.)

Over on the next panel, the viewer is now Jack, a few minutes prior to this conversation. Contrary to Karkat’s protestations, Jack stabs him because He's got a pretty sharp tongue and can't seem to keep it sheathed. He is curious when Karkat cares less about the wound and more about Jack seeing his blood colour, which is apparently some freakish mutation. Jack looks at his knife…

CHEL: While it’s not a realistic depiction of the colour, recall that this is the shade of red used in-comic to depict human blood. This reveal probably isn’t a surprise to anyone by now, if you’ve encountered fanart, and honestly it wasn’t a huge mindblowing revelation on my first read before I knew, but I do think it’s a clever little “aha, THAT’S why!” moment. Skilfully done.

It seems he's the only one of his kind with this mutant candy-red blood. An outcast. He thinks he was put on this planet covered in an ocean of his own blood to be taunted. Punished for something. Saddest story you ever heard. Got to do something to shut him up.

BRIGHT: Awww. That’s kind of sweet.

This little interchange gave rise to the ‘Stabdads’ fandom phenomenon, where Spades Slick is envisaged as Karkat’s father-figure. In Homestuck canon, it’s dubious how much affection Slick has for Karkat. He seems more irritated by him than anything else, but that’s about on par for how he treats the rest of the Midnight Crew. On the other hand, it clearly makes a massive impact on Karkat. We’ve seen how important blood colour is on Alternia and how insecure he is about his own; his sudden rush of fellow-feeling towards Jack is understandable, even if it does make him way too forgiving about having been stabbed.

CHEL: Karkat and Jack shake hands, and proceed to be in cahoots. Cahoooooooots. Doodling on the defaced parking ticket from earlier, they draft OPERATION REGISURP.

Your whole team executes the plan along the course of its journey, employing espionage, mind control tactics, political sabotage, vicious interrogations and cold blooded assassinations. Everyone does their part and you begin to learn the true meaning of teamwork, as well as this troll disease called friendship.

Yeah, it actually happening is skipped over with one paragraph, but that’s probably a good thing with all the complexity already going on, and we do hear more details about it. First, we’re reminded of the existence and functions of the Queens’ Rings, the magic rings the queens of Derse and Prospit have which give them traits and powers from whatever the players put in their sprites. The trolls have put their lusii in their sprites, except for Aradia, whose lusus died long ago, so she got in the sprite herself. The Queen could put up with getting bits and pieces from eleven hideous monsters (well, ten hideous monsters and one adowable little fairybull thing oh my gosh it’s cuuuute) tacked onto her, but what she absolutely won’t stand for is the other thing Aradia put in her sprite…

She could not stand bearing the visage of the most loathsome creature known to existence. So vile is its appearance, so contemptible its purpose, all depictions of the creature let alone members of its population are permanently banned from any jurisdiction in the reach of her agents. Those of its kind go by many names, and so does the reviled patron god they herald - THE GREAT DETESTATION, KING PONDSQUATTER, SPEAKER OF THE VAST JOKE, or most commonly, BILIOUS SLICK.

Recall that AR thought of the hieroglyphs in the Frog Temple as “illegal pictography”. We’ll find out later why the Black Queen has such a revulsion for frogs, it’s important. But the important part right now is that she took the ring off. At the time of planning it’s in the ROYAL VAULT.

We briefly see a moment in the future of the Black Queen wrapped in rags, just like the human sessions’ White Queen, wandering the desert as the BANISHED QUASIROYAL, and the caption notes the plan was a success.

However, Doc Scratch appears in the desert in front of her, and it’s noted she was given a new purpose. This, it seems, is the origin of Snowman.

FAILURE ARTIST: I would like if there was some canon Homestuck material expanding on this REGISURP plot.

BRIGHT: Same! It sounds really interesting. One example of Homestuck’s idiosyncratic pacing, I suppose -- we spend pages and pages on trivial alchimeter nonsense, but skip over something more meaty.

CHEL: The Red Team work on that, while the Blue Team battle their own session… or so they think. Yeah, I’m sure you’ve all already figured it out, but the trolls hadn’t just yet. They note that their prototypes are affecting the opposite team’s underlings, and the readers are shown Alternia’s two Frog Temples, one near Aradia’s home and the other near Kanaya’s, each with six pillars outside (one seems to have five, but the sixth is hidden behind the building). Superimposed on each other, the pillars make a full ring of twelve.

The truth was it had always been the same session all along. That your teams were not competing, but cooperating toward a common goal. In the more drawn out form of this adventure's narrative, figuring this out would have been a huge deal. We would have been completely blown away by this stunning revelation. Wow. Same session all along. Really? Huh.

This is what Aradia’s been so mysterious about. She knew. We’re provided with a handy diagram, in case we haven’t been able to keep up.

After watching the phrases MOBIUS DOUBLE and REACH AROUND toggle for a few minutes while in a sort of stupor, you finally snap out of it.

(I just noticed, the Blue Team are the Derse dreamers and the Red Team are the Prospit dreamers. Neat!)

The reader’s attention is drawn instead to the Aquarius and Pisces symbols in the top left, belonging to characters we haven’t met yet, and the narration promises we’ll learn about them soon. Drawing attention again to GA’s Virgo symbol, the narration muses about her.

It will probably be quite some time before you get to be her. It could very well be pages and pages and pages.

Naturally, we jump right back to her.

GA’s intro is long, so we’ll take it piece by piece.

Your name is KANAYA MARYAM.

The Sanskrit name for Virgo is “Kanya”, and it’s also the name of a town in Japan. “Maryam” is the Arabic version of “Mary”, as in Jesus’ mother. It may also be a reference to Marya Zaleska, the title character of the movie “Dracula’s Daughter”.

You are one of the few of your kind who can withstand the BLISTERING ALTERNIAN SUN, and perhaps the only who enjoys the feel of its rays. As such, you are one of the few of your kind who has taken a shining to LANDSCAPING. You have cultivated a lush oasis around your hive, and in particular, you have honed your craft through the art of TOPIARY, sculpting your trees to match the PUFFY ORACLES from your dreams. You have embraced the tool of this trade, which conveniently is the weapon of choice for those who would hunt the HEINOUS BROODS OF THE UNDEAD which crawl from the sand at sunrise to feast on the light and the living.

Couple things established here; trolls are not only nocturnal but actively harmed by their planet’s sun, and undead beings other than ghosts exist. Said traditional weapon for hunting them is a chainsaw, which we can see lying against her bookshelf, a reference to the Evil Dead movies.

It would be convenient if you actually hunted them, but it is of course far too dangerous, every bit as suicidal as attempting to poach the terrible MUSCLEBEASTS who roam at night. So you indulge in your bright fascination with the grim through literature. Just before the sun goes down and you join your flora in rest, you immerse yourself in tales of RAINBOW DRINKERS and SHADOW DROPPERS and FORBIDDEN PASSION.

Rainbow drinkers are, as discussed later on, troll vampires. I don’t think shadow droppers are ever expanded on, but they might be zombies or werebeasts. Troll goths, apparently, are the reverse of human goths, dressing in bright colours and staying up in the daytime, which makes sense for a species who can only safely go out at night.

You are one of the few of your kind with JADE GREEN BLOOD. As such you are one of the few who could be selected and raised by a VIRGIN MOTHER GRUB, an event so rare as to elude documented precedent. She would defend you from desert threats, and though her life would be short, in time you would assure her of progeny.

Recall that the Mother Grub is required for troll reproduction.

You are a SEAMSTRESS or a RAGRIPPER or a TREETRIMMER or a LUMBERJACK, whichever you care to be, and your unique hive is equipped with a great supply of advanced technology to accommodate your interests. The technology and indeed the hive itself were all recovered from the ruins nearby when you were very young. The seed of your hive was deployed on the volcanic rocks beneath the sand with the assistance of your lusus and her remarkable burrowing skills, and you have lived there happily together since. You know the ruins and the hive and everything here that is not sand and rock originated from the world of your dreams. You also know that one day you will visit this world while you are awake. That day is today.

Like Jade, Kanaya has been awake on Prospit for years, and the technology in question is Skaian in origin, so that’s how she knows what’s going on with the game.

Kanaya is prompted to equip her chainsaw, which promptly turns into a lipstick in a Problem Sleuth reference. Like Jade, she has a Wardrobifier, set to randomise, which suddenly turns her black shirt and red skirt into a red leaf-print dress. She takes out the lipstick.

You can choose between your trademark jade or black. Even though a troll's lips are naturally black. But they can always be blacker, and a lady with a true sense of style knows this.

She goes with green, her dress turns into a blue kimono, and she’s messaged by someone with a fuschia Pisces symbol. This person, named cuttlefishCuller, turns out to be rather excitable, greeting her in all caps and following it up with Glub glub glub glub glub!

BRIGHT: This conversation is pretty sweet, with some friendly joking about CC’s quirk (they stick hyphens in front of their capital Es) and mention of their Collapsing And Expanding Bladder Based Aquatic Vascular System. There’s another mention of moirails, with CC saying they’ll have to join the game late to keep an eye on theirs.

It also turns out both CC and Kanaya are having some premonitions of what’s to come! Kanaya is seeing visions in the clouds of Skaia, the same way Jade does, but CC hears whispers from a mysterious ‘she’ who needs her voice keeping down. It’s implied to be CC’s lusus, as both Kanaya and CC are aware their lusii are going to die soon.

Kanaya hopes to be with her lusus as she dies, but looks out of the window to find the Virgin Mother Grub has already passed away, apparently of natural causes.

CHEL: The Mother Grub was seen briefly before; it’s a moth-like creature with a huge fat body the size of a bus, with wings too small to ever lift it, horns the same shape as Kanaya’s, and a skull-like head with big lips. The skull on Terezi’s Doomsday Scale was, we can tell now, a Mother Grub, except quite a lot bigger - presumably a breeding Grub.

BRIGHT: Kanaya changes back into her original outfit, and goes down to live up to her end of the bargain… which entails slicing a hole in her lusus with her chainsaw and pulling out a round object covered in spikes the colour of trolls’ horns, called a Matriorb. Kanaya stores it in her sylladex; she’s using a CHASTITY MODUS, which locks each card away, and the key will serendipitously be discovered when it’s time for the card to be unlocked. These modii are getting more and more esoteric.

Kanaya proceeds to have a conversation with her own moirail, Vriska, which we already read earlier.

You then proceed to have the rest of this conversation we already read, bugging and fussing and meddling through the special and magical union one can only describe as being in moirallegiance with another. At least, you guess that's how you would describe it. Maybe. Troll romance sure is confusing!

Yes, yes it is. (Spoiler: It’s not that confusing once it’s explained.)

Kanaya doesn’t have long to dwell on the conversation, as she’s contacted by caligulasAquarium, someone with a violet Aquarius symbol who she doesn’t seem to think highly of. It rapidly becomes apparent why.

CA: kan make her talk to me do somethin GA: Who CA: your no good connivvin fuckin backstabbin girl crush thats wwho

CHEL: Trolls are supposed to come bi/pan as standard, so why does he need to specify “girl crush”? I wonder if Hussie hadn’t decided that yet when he wrote this part, but I’m not sure.

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 34

CA’s gender hasn’t been revealed, but let’s not kid ourselves, we know from how he’s talking that he’s a dude. Nice Girls certainly exist but they don’t tend to get portrayed as so whiny in fiction, plus CC comes off as very girly, and that leaves us with six boy and six girl trolls. Balance and opposites and counterparts are a running theme throughout Homestuck. Not that there can’t be nonbinary characters, as some show up in Hiveswap; just that there would most likely have to be an even number of them, split evenly between the groups of players. Fine by me as a nonbinary person with a thing for balance and even numbers of my own.

Also, note that we’ve seen this guy, or at least his hand and foot, before. This is the litter-hater in the bowling shoes.

GA: Overstating Our Relationship Wont Make Me Feel Very Cooperative GA: Its Paler Red Than That Ok CA: pshhhhhh that is a fuckin laugh and you knoww it evveryone does CA: so help me out tell her to talk to me i think she blocked me you got to GA: Why Do I Got To GA: I Dont Got To And Every Time You Take My Help For Granted I Feel Like I Got To A Little Less CA: wwhatEVVER you are so the vvillage twwo wwheel devvice wwhen it comes to auspisticing CA: you cant let a grudge go by you wwont stick your busy stem betwwixt so get wwith the program fussyfangs

BRIGHT: Oh hey, another troll romance term! ‘Auspisticing’ is the last of the lot, don’t worry.

CA: wwho givves a shit wwhy she blocked me or about my fuckin manners come on youvve got a wway wwith her CA: i figure if youre going to auspisticize any twwo brinesuckers wwho sneer at each other a funny wway you might as wwell make it official and be ours right GA: Your Black Solicitation Just Seems Really Indecent

Funny words aside, Hussie does a good job at laying down context for what auspisticism is here; we now know that it involves mediating between two parties who dislike each other and that it’s a form of black romance. Meshing worldbuilding naturally into the dialogue is something Homestuck does really well at times.

Anyway, CA is trying to get in contact with Vriska because he asked her to make something for him and now she’s blowing him off.

GA: What Is It CA: kan stupid wwhat do you think its a fuckin gizmo to bloww up the wworld or somethin CA: ok wwell not that obvviously CA: but somethin thatll kill all land dwwellers wwhat else wwould i be after GA: Can You Just For A Moment Entertain The Thoughts Of One Untouched By Megalomaniacal Derangement And Tell Me Why Id Want To Assist You With That CA: wwell CA: im not goin to vvery wwell kill you am i that wwould be fuckin unconscionable CA: wwhat kind of friend wwould i be

While CA is obviously a douche, there’s something funny about how over-the-top he is about it and how utterly oblivious he is to the idea that Kanaya might have a problem with a device that would kill all landdwellers, although the humour is inversely proportionate to how likely he is to pull it off.

CHEL: Maybe I’m strange, but I think he’s adorable. I get the impression of a small kid trying to puff himself up to adult size.

BRIGHT: There’s also more romance talk, and this next bit is one I find interesting:

CA: you could either play along as our auspistice and do a little mediating like you wwere fuckin hatched to CA: or wwatch she and me devvolvve into fuckin full fledged kismesisses the kind like you dont get once in ten thousand swweeps CA: you knoww thats wwhat it wwould be there wwould be rainboww rivvers runnin through star systems and all nebulizin like liquid firewworks CA: it wwill be beautiful and heartbreaking all at once CA: you should read up on your history instead of poring through that godawwfull sunny rubbish

I’m going to take a step back from Homestuck itself for a moment and talk about kismessitude as it’s portrayed in fandom. People tend to envision it in a variety of ways -- some see it as a BDSM relationship, some as a way of pushing a rival to be better, some as just straight-up hate-sex -- but most depictions show it as something that only affects the two people involved.

Here, though? CA’s talking about kismessitude as something that’s potentially really damn dangerous, to other people besides those involved, and cites history as a backup -- implying it can really be that dangerous, and it’s not just a teenager’s flight of fancy. (Although, that said, CA is clearly using this to try and get Kanaya in a relationship with him, so how sincere he is is questionable.)

CHEL: Later on we do see a little bit of one of the historical cases he might have been citing. We’ll discuss it more then. Also, I do like him saying “sunny” instead of “gloomy”. Makes sense!

Kanaya tells CA none of this matters, and he sneers about the “purity of the bloodline”. That’s an… uncomfortable turn of phrase, especially since he’s speaking to someone not covered by the “purity” standard, but since it applies to aliens and it’s in a society where that’s hammered into its inhabitants it’s not a Problematykks issue. Kanaya tells him it still won’t matter because their race will be wiped out entirely, and his reaction is remarkably understated:

CA: huh CA: wwell ok HURRY UP AND DO NOTHING: 11

CA says he knows Kanaya doesn’t lie except to herself, surprisingly perceptive for one so puffed-up otherwise. CA might be smarter than he’s letting on? He asks if her clouds told her that; that was the reader’s assumption too, but she says no, she has a different source. Uh-oh. We know what the last source of information was, and it cost Vriska an arm and an eye-sevenfold. CA’s own clouds “hide nothin but misfortune and monstrosities”, so we can guess she’s Prospit and he’s Derse. He goes back to nagging her to tell Vriska to talk to him, and when she continues to refuse he poutily steps off.

CA: you dont wwant to be our auspistice cause you dont wwant to get locked into that sort of relation wwith her i can respect that

Kanaya denies this, and CA says everyone knows, including Karkat.

GA: Its Unbelievable GA: Her Patience CA: wwhat CA: wwhoa wwait wwho GA: Never Mind CA: ok wwait did she talk to you today CA: wwhat did she say CA: or glub or wwhatevver

They’re talking about CC, if it wasn’t clear. Kanaya, in a callback to John’s comment to Terezi, facetiously tells him that she talked about Longing To Touch You Indiscretely and That Shes Basically In The Scarlet Throes For You. CA, flustered, picks up that she’s teasing him, and she tells him the truth, that CC’s just concerned as a moirail.

CA: if youre not savvvvy about howw you define yourself to people CA: you can just splash into the moirail zone before you knoww wwhich wways upwward

I’m going to comment on this attitude in a bit more detail when we get a clearer explanation of what moirallegiance actually is. CA leaves her with some arc words.

CA: being a kid and growwing up CA: its hard and nobody understands

Kanaya heads back to her room, planning to emphatically not meddle but help her friends, and consults her source; it’s fortunately not a Doc Scratch-related one at all. It is, in fact, Rose’s long-forgotten GameFAQ, saved on a server floating in the Furthest Ring, to which Prospit’s clouds directed her. I have to show you the panel for a moment though…

I’m sure there was a way we could see the screen without having it facing away from Kanaya who’s supposed to be reading it.

You can only assume this took place a long time ago. This race is likely ancient, preceding yours by millions of sweeps. Maybe billions! You like to try to imagine the adventures of these players. Were they successful in repopulating their race? Did they manage to protect their matriorb and hatch a new mother grub? Could they hold it together, or were they torn apart by the complex social dynamics, the matespritships and moirallegiences and auspisticisms and kismesissitudes that will surely plague your group along the way? You have little doubt they succeeded with flying colors.

Oh dear, dramatic irony. Kanaya fantasises about a troll version of Rose, thinking she must have been the leader of this supposedly long-ago group.

And yet they appear to have been the only of their kind to have risen to the challenge in a session stacked heavily against them.

Huh. So is this just because Kanaya can’t find more information, or are the four kids in fact the only humans who successfully got into the game? Picking four specifically white-coded kids to be the last of the human race due to supposedly their own competence is… not a good choice. And why the hell couldn’t other people succeed? This strikes me as more of the whole theme of “nobody matters except the people we’re focusing on”. A good lampshading of video game tropes, but in a literary story, that’s the opposite message to everything I’ve ever read, and it’s a creepy one.

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 43 HURRY UP AND DO NOTHING: 12 WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 35

BRIGHT: I thiiiiiiiink it’s at least implied later on that there are other sessions going, it’s just that each session is a closed loop of players so we don’t see the others...although if that’s the case, does that mean Earth’s getting hit with meteors from multiple Skaias?

CHEL: That over with for the moment, we cut to Tavros’ house as you take your place as the PAGE OF BREATH in the LAND OF SAND AND ZEPHYR. Vriska, his server player, gets down to the business of building up his house towards the Gate…

… entirely out of staircases.

AT: i THINK THIS, iS, AT: pROBABLY MEANT TO ANTAGONIZE ME,

Okay, this probably makes me a bad person, but I’m crying with laughter at his expression and that line.

It’s more disability slapstick, but here the point of the joke comes off as being more that Vriska is a jerk and Tavros’ reaction is really understated than any reasonable person being supposed to assume Tavros is wrong for not being able to climb stairs. Emphasis on “comes off as”, unfortunately. I’m still gonna give a Problematykks point, and further experience with Hussie’s attitude to disability has soured the joke somewhat, even in just the next couple of pages.

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 44

BRIGHT: Vriska tries to get Tavros to crawl up the stairs, first by telling him that he promised not to be boring anymore and then by saying that she’s trying to help him get stronger. She caps off the rant by demanding that he apologise.

AT: oKAY, AT: tHANKS, i GUESS, AT: bUT, AT: sORRY FOR WHAT, AG: For 8eing crippled, you ass! AT: yOU WANT ME TO APOLOGIZE, AT: fOR BEING PARALYZED, AG: Yes. AG: Say you're sorry. AT: i DON'T MEAN TO BE RUDE, oR bORING, AT: bUT THAT'S RIDICULOUS, gIVEN, AT: uH, tHE CIRCUMSTANCES, AG: 8ullshit! AG: It's something called 8asic decency and civility you fudge8looded 8oor. AG: Now get down on your useless wo88ly knees and apologize. AT: nO, i DON'T WANT TO, AG: >::::O

Vriska, what the fuck.

Tavros is really great here. He’s obviously not comfortable fighting with Vriska, and repeatedly tries to redirect her into building him ramps instead of engaging. But, at the same time, he holds his ground and doesn’t let her push him around, and won’t let go of solid hard reality in the face of Vriska trying to emotionally manipulate him.

FAILURE ARTIST: And yet people still call him a wimp.

BRIGHT: Vriska retaliates, because of course she does, by grabbing his wheelchair with her cursor and shaking it about. If Hussie left it at that, everything would be unobjectionable, at least in terms of narrative voice. Instead, well…

Now she's done it. She has awoken the mighty inner fury that is... RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUFIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

CHEL: It just occurred to me to mention that the name Rufio comes from a character in the movie Hook, the leader of the Lost Boys after Peter Pan left, played by Dante Basco. Tavros’ mental image of him is a reference to that character.

FAILURE ARTIST: Dante Basco did read Homestuck, with hilarious results as we will see.

But unfortunately, Rufio is not real. He's imaginary. A fake. Like a made up friend, the way fairies are. You continue to be sad and alone.

BRIGHT: Eurgh.

Let me be clear: Tavros having no further recourse to deal with Vriska’s abuse beyond his visualised self-esteem is a problem for the character, but it’s not necessarily a narrative problem per se. Escapism is a thing. You could get a decent character arc out of Tavros learning better ways to deal with harassment he can’t escape. It is a narrative problem when the narrator mocks it and makes him out to be pathetic for even trying it.

CHEL: I’d consider this to be just Tavros’ own thought process, but, sadly, this kind of narrative sneering at him carries on throughout Tavros’ presence in the comic and the fandom seems to buy into it. Tavros gets a lot of hate for reasons which mostly boil down to him being a male abuse victim; there’s a feeling that he should “try harder” to fight back, despite him being physically disabled and a member of a caste out of sight beneath her on the social ladder and legally permitted to be killed by her on a whim. Might that count as a point for WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM, for Huss and the fandom not taking the social dynamics into account for why Tavros can’t defend himself?

BRIGHT: I don’t know if it’s fair to count against the fandom when we’re reviewing Homestuck proper, but we can definitely count against Hussie!

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 36

CHEL: It’s also notable that the common fandom interpretation of Tavros is as Hispanic-coded, at least partly due to his Spanish username, and of Vriska as white-coded. That’s probably not helping.

Since Hussie appears to expect us to agree with Vriska that this is funny, I’m adding another to these as well.

ALL THE LUCK: 2 CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 45 IN HATE WITH MY CREATION: 3

BRIGHT: What’s weird about this whole mess is that Hussie doesn’t — yet — try to say that Tavros should be trying to get stronger; his disability is fully acknowledged. I feel like this kind of mockery is usually accompanied by the attitude that disabled people should just get over their disability, but Hussie’s clear that Tavros can’t. Which means he should do...what, exactly?

CHEL: Not have let Vriska disable him in the first place, presumably. Never mind that, you know, she has mind control powers so he didn’t really have a choice in that either. That is, however, an argument Vriska fans actually make. Apparently some of them actually blame him for not flying when she threw him off the cliff, which… well, unpowered flight is a thing that can happen in the comic but he certainly couldn’t do it then.

BRIGHT: ...Apparently I retain the capacity for surprise at how awful people can be. The fuck?

Back in the comic, Tavros fortunately does have one other means of recourse. Back in her hive, Vriska is suddenly prodded in the back with a flying toilet, courtesy of Kanaya.

GA: Just Presenting A Floating Reminder That Tavros Will Need Plenty Of Inclined Surfaces For His Ascent AG: That's silly. I made so many ramps, you wouldn't even 8elieve it. AG: I specifically decided I wanted to 8uild something ugly and 8oring. It is now the land of ramps and yawns. GA: Hes Reported Otherwise AG: That lousy snitch! May8e I should take his computer away so he can't go crying to fussyfangs anymore. GA: Maybe I Should Upend This Load Gaper Over Your Head AG: No, don't! GA: Im Still Learning The Interface GA: It Could Happen Accidentally At Any Moment AG: I'm only trying to help him. ::::( GA: Think Of Another Way To Help

CHEL: Did I mention Kanaya is my zodiac troll? I can only long to reach her heights of awesome. Of course the ability to levitate toilets would kinda help.

BRIGHT: Vriska heads down to her treasure vault and retrieves a pair of ROCKET SHOES. The captchalogue code for these is ‘PSHOOOES’, which amuses me greatly. Vriska sends the code to Tavros, who combines it with the code for his wheelchair to create a flying wheelchair. Now that is a good use of alchemising!

CHEL: Awww!

Tavros flies up to the Gate, and we cut back to him later on, leading an entourage of communed-with imps and ogres to move obstacles and help him solve puzzles. Using his skills well, I see! In another set of ruins the imps load jigsaw pieces of rock into a frog-shaped alcove,

Things, however, don’t continue to go so well, because Hussie hates this poor kid. I do not mean that facetiously. Statements he’s made elsewhere imply he has a hell of a lot of contempt for several of the characters he created, which I don’t understand at all. We’ll go into this after Act 7, but I get the sensation that the characters are merely tools to show off the complexity and meta references, which are the parts he really cares about.

BRIGHT: It’s not unknown for authors to dislike characters they wrote; the great Terry Pratchett reputedly hated his character Rincewind. The key difference is that in Pratchett’s case, the audience couldn’t tell. Hussie, on the other hand, tends to make his disdain pretty obvious, to the detriment of the story.

CHEL: That’s a point. Conan Doyle grew to hate Sherlock Holmes, too. He didn’t, however, set up situations solely to shit on Holmes in his books.

BRIGHT: I think that’s the key. I’ll forgive a multitude of failings as long as the author seems to be treating the characters fairly. That doesn’t mean that good things have to happen to them — plenty of bad things can happen and I’ll enjoy it — it just means that the author has to...respect how the character feels and would behave, I guess.

Of course, respect is Hussie’s antithesis, so.

Also, nothing so far has shown Vriska to be anything other than a (granted, entertaining) bully. I wasn’t around while Homestuck was updating, so I’m not sure when her fandom took off, but it has to be later than this, surely?

CHEL: I don’t know. I wasn’t around till about mid-Act 6.

What was I on about? Oh yes. Tavros is interrupted by Vriska again, who bitches him out for doing things the boring way and seeking the boring lore.

AG: The minds of your consorts are very soft and impressiona8le. AG: As easily manipul8ed as all those imps you've 8een 8ossing around. AG: I have picked apart their tiny little lizard 8rains and seen through all the smoke and mirrors of their riddles. AG: I have gotten to the truth they are guarding. The great 8ig mystery 8ehind this planet. And you know what it is, Tavros? AT: nO, AG: It's 8ullshit! AG: Meaningless, 8oring, fanciful 8ullshit wrapped in flowery poems to keep you guessing. AG: It all leads to one thing anyway, and that's what we should put our attention on. AG: Real gamers cut to the chase. They power through all the nonsense and go for the gold. AG: They cheat, Tavros. AG: It is time you learned to start cheating.

Interesting theory. Tavros thinks befriending his monsters instead of killing them is cheating, and Vriska grudgingly agrees but is annoyed he isn’t killing anything. She claims to have designed a better and more challenging quest for him; he asks after her own quest, and she says she has time because Kanaya’s busy.

AG: Which is just as well 8ecause I was starting to get nannied HARD. WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 37

Strange word choice for a species raised by animals, but okay. Vriska sends Tavros a map to the next Gate, and he sets off in his little rocket chair. Little does he know.

You proceed through what seems to be your second gate, into the LAND OF MAPS AND TREASURE. The THIEF OF LIGHT lies in wait.

In a callback to our last meeting of Breath and Light players, Tavros crashes through Vriska’s wall and is left hanging upside-down in the rocket chair from the large cobwebs across the room, while Vriska sleeps on a pile of broken eight-balls. Doesn’t look comfortable, but trolls rest in worse places later. Vriska wakes, and Tavros falls head-first onto the floor.

Here is where it gets incredibly uncomfortable, and we have to show it in detail to assign points properly and so that there’s no ambiguity about what’s happening, so if you have any sexual assault, ableism, underage, mind control, or victim-blaming triggers you may want to skip this part. No clothing is removed but it’s very unpleasant to read and the attitude toward it is worse. Seriously, this is Taklamakan Zoo levels of bad.

(This heading below’s not part of the comic, I just put it there so you can skip. The sequence ends with the piece of fanart of Kanaya looking at the sideways screen.)

~*THE ASSAULT STARTS HERE*~

Vriska sits up. She’s wearing a very short strappy white Tinkerbell dress with her sign on it, and what look like over-the-knee socks, a commonly fetishised style of clothing. I remind you these characters are supposed to be thirteen years old. The dress is also the same as the one worn by the fairy in the artwork on Tavros’ desktop background. I don’t know if Vriska had seen that or not.

FAILURE ARTIST:

To be fair she’s just in an actually-more-modest version of what Peter Pan’s sidekick/love interest wears and the socks come off as more dorky than sexy.

Oh my! It appears Pupa Pan himself has flown through your window while you were asleep. How exciting! Surely he is here to take you away on the adventure of a lifetime. He is more dreamy and heroic than you ever imagined. But what's this?? It seems the legendary Boy-Skylark has misplaced his shadow. He is looking EVERYWHERE for it, to no avail. He is having a devil of a time, what with being paralyzed from the waist down and all. He clearly needs your help.

CHEL: Vriska is prompted to Help Pupa find shadow, and approaches Tavros with a nasty-looking grin on her face, while he lies on the floor, gritting his teeth in noticeable pain.

Pupa! You truly are a silly goose. Your shadow has been trapped underneath your useless torso the whole time! Honestly, where else would it be you stupid sack of shit?

Charming. Vriska proceeds to kick him in the head, or at least nudge him with her foot, while he lies unresponsive.

Of course, the secret to reuniting with your shadow is to get up and walk around. And play and dance and frolic! Your shadow will surely join in your gaiety. But it appears Pupa has lost the use of his legs. There will be no frolicking in this young man's future. ::::( Unless...

Everyone knows that just a pinch of SPECIAL STARDUST along with a happy thought will allow any boy to get up and walk again. Everyone knows this because it is in the classic tale, PUPA PAN. Young Pupa flies through the window of a fairy girl's respiteblock, falls on the floor, and has trouble getting up like an enormous pansy. The fairy girl then helps him walk again, and in return, he teaches her to fly, even though she probably already knows how to fly. Because she's a fairy. They fly out of her window together, and have magical adventures for many sweeps thereafter. To be honest, you hardly know a damn thing about Pupa Pan. But you do not care.

Pupa remains as pathetic and useless as ever.

FAILURE ARTIST: The story just keeps mocking Tavros for being disabled.

CHEL: Not to mention for being interested in fairies. Because how dare a boy have a gender-nonstandard interest, or a young teenager enjoy whimsical escapism from an increasingly horrible and guaranteed-to-be-short life.

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 39

I might be projecting because the fandom has made me loathe her, but it honestly comes off like Vriska dressed up like this in the first place less to seduce Tavros and more to make sure she thoroughly ruined his favourite thing to hurt him further, especially if the narration is supposed to be things she’s actually saying to him.

The stardust did nothing! Probably because it is just glittery powder with no magical properties whatsoever and is basically bullshit. Because in case it wasn't clear, magic isn't real, and neither are miracles. OR It could just be that Pupa has failed to have a happy thought! Your duty is clear. You will have to MAKE him have happy thoughts. Vriska: Make Pupa have happy thoughts.

He certainly doesn’t seem to be having happy thoughts now. Notice his expression, what we can see of it, looks terrified, he’s trembling, and let’s recall that he’s paralysed from the waist down. Even if he wasn’t, she’s of a far, far higher caste than him, legally permitted to do whatever she wants to him, including killing him if he tries to resist. It’s kind of gone back and forth on, but higher bloods are a few times stated to be a lot stronger than lower bloods, and if they work like humans, they’re in puberty right now, a time at which human girls tend to get taller and stronger sooner than boys. Again, it’s gone back and forth on, but a common interpretation is that female trolls are stronger than male trolls in general and/or have the social power advantage. Let’s also remember that, even if none of those factors apply, Vriska has mind control powers. There is no point here at which Tavros has the advantage, nothing he can use as leverage on her. She can do whatever the hell she wants, and she does.

BRIGHT: We’ve also been explicitly shown that Vriska has little to no respect for anyone else’s autonomy if she finds it inconvenient, and that Tavros is her favourite punching bag, and that his ability to stand up for himself when she gets going is extremely limited.

CHEL: Despite the odds stacked against him, Tavros struggles against the kiss forced on him, and when Vriska pushes him back, doesn’t respond with anything but a look of horror, though she appears to expect him to, as a flickering heart-spade with a question mark over it appears between them. I’m not sure whether that’s supposed to be the thought process of him or her or both.

Vriska hurls him onto the floor with some force...

… and activates her mind control, causing little hearts to light up in Tavros’ eyes.

BRIGHT: Vriska has used her mind-control powers on Tavros before, and when it happened she walked him off a cliff. There is basically no way that her doing it again isn’t going to be a traumatic experience for him, above and beyond the inherent horror of losing control over one’s body.

I’m inclined to think that forcibly altering his emotions is worse, though. Being paralysed was bad enough, but Tavros knows what happened and he knows how he feels about it. Making him fall in love with her is just…on one level, it’s a horrible assault on his autonomy as a person, and on another level, it’s tailor-made to make him doubt himself and believe the encounter was something he wanted.

FAILURE ARTIST: I hadn’t thought that he might now consider the encounter as consensual, which would explain his later reaction.

CHEL: Tavros paws at her legs, making kissy faces, and she looks vaguely concerned. Note the background still depicts wavy blue rays coming off her, showing her power is still active.

Looking defeated, she drops the control and dumps him on the floor again.

I’m not sure what she’s supposed to be thinking in this last panel. Is she feeling guilty? Is she disappointed that he didn’t like her under his own power? Has she just decided he’s too useless to be worth the effort? Any could be true.

BRIGHT: I read that as disappointment that even when he ‘liked’ her, he didn’t act the way she wanted. (And the way Tavros acted is kind of disturbing. ‘Mindlessly pawing at someone’ is not what I’d expect from him if he was legitimately attracted to someone.)

FAILURE ARTIST: The common interpretation these days was she was realizing she wasn’t into boys which okay that’s good for her but she should feel more bad about molesting him.

CHEL: That also makes no sense, because she shows interest in multiple boys later.

I’m also not entirely sure if Vriska had the intention of actually raping Tavros here (in the standard way, I mean, as one could argue that mind control is a form of rape), or just making out with him. The fact that she dressed up in vaguely fetishy clothing isn’t making it look good, though. Yes, she’s very young, but traumatised kids in particular have been known to lash out sexually like that. It’s a way of reasserting personal power, and I imagine it would be more prevalent in a society with no sapient adult supervision. While there are mitigating circumstances involved in their social situation and Vriska not really having ever had a chance to learn better, that doesn’t make this not a horrible thing to do, or not traumatising for Tavros.

BRIGHT: The clothing could potentially be down to Vriska wanting to look ‘adult’ without fully understanding why it looks adult. That does come up sometimes with teens — they want to experiment with clothing because that’s how adults dress, not because they want to look sexy, or they might dress a certain way for dates because that’s the social model they have for How Dates Work.

And if I read it like that, this basically looks like Vriska having the date equivalent of a dolls’ tea party. Which says volumes about how she views Tavros’s autonomy.

CHEL: Good point. Though honestly it would say volumes about same either way!

BRIGHT: I said earlier that Vriska is better than Equius at recognising when other people’s desires conflict with hers, and she is, but that doesn’t mean she respects those differences. She just recognises that they’re there, and overrides them. This is a prime example of Vriska viewing Tavros as something between a chew-toy and a prop. First she kicks him around and terrifies him, then she expects him to be able to get over those emotions at the drop of a hat and respond to her advances — and, moreover, she wants him to respond in a certain way, which Tavros has zero way of knowing. This is the first time she’s shown that sort of interest in him, unless her earlier behaviour was the Alternian equivalent of pigtail-pulling.

...I think maybe that was in fact Alternian pigtail-pulling. Or at least Vriska’s version of pigtail-pulling.

CHEL: That’ll actually make more sense, once we explain what the spade symbol means.

Okay, how many counts does this cover?

ALL THE LUCK: 12 ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?: 31 CALL CPA PLEASE: 26 CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 55 IN HATE WITH MY CREATION: 13

It also occurred to me during this sequence to think again about how Karkat contemptuously swears at and hangs up the phone on the injured Tavros. This, at first glance, seems to be very much at odds with the “cranky but caring” impression we’re supposed to have of Karkat… but it fits precisely with Hussie’s opinion of Tavros and how pathetic he is for allowing a much more powerful person to permanently disable him. I know at the moment it looks like I’m not separating the character from the author, but it’ll become clear as we go that that is what he thinks.

IN HATE WITH MY CREATION: 14

Why didn’t we start a FUCK YOU, HUSSIE count?

BRIGHT: It would have ended up longer than all the other counts combined.

CHEL: The actual assault is over now, but there’s one more picture of it. The ramifications must continue to be discussed, so tread cautiously. The actual act is over now, though.

Said ramifications come pretty quickly. Kanaya, having dealt with getting herself into the game and prototyped her own lususprite, decides to check on Vriska.

Ideally she has not gotten herself into too much trouble. And ideally the dramatic irony has not gotten so thick you could draw a dotted line on it with a tube of lipstick and cut it in half with a chainsaw.

Of course, she sees the exact moment Vriska kisses Tavros.

(Fanart source has now been deleted, sadly.)

~*THE ASSAULT ENDS HERE*~

Humorous art aside over, let’s watch Kanaya’s reaction in more detail. She angrily looks at a copy of the Tinkerbell dress, which she presumably sent the alchemiter code for rather than the actual item to Vriska, hence why she still has it.

So THAT'S why she had you make this dress for her??? And you just went along with it like a sucker. Argh, you are such an IDIOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Like Karkat, Kanaya is presented as the caring one, the protective one. The “mom friend” of the group. And yet, she looks at this, in which Tavros is clearly frightened and struggling, and her reaction is to be mad that Vriska didn’t want to wear the dress for a date with her. I’m not sure whether this says more about Hussie’s opinion of Tavros or the social system of Alternia or both, but it certainly says a lot.

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 56 HURRY UP AND DO NOTHING: 13 IN HATE WITH MY CREATION: 15

BRIGHT: Kanaya has had to corral Vriska on Tavros’s behalf already! Possibly more than once! She has all the information to realise that this is abusive, even leaving aside Tavros’s reaction! Sure, teens can be self-centred, but even so this is egregious.

CHEL: Kanaya’s Grubsprite comforts her and she throws the dress out the window.

Being a kid and growing up. It's hard and nobody understands.

Yes, I’m sure Tavros thinks so too.

Charles: "I know Sir can be prickly, but you have to understand he had a very terrible childhood."

Klaus: "I understand. I'm having a very terrible childhood right now."

-A Series of Unfortunate Events

#homestuck #homestuck review #homestuck meta #homestuck reread #let's read homestuck #Homespork

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wizardcorez · 4 years

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soothe me daily

*trigger warning: eating disorder. do not read this to trigger yourself*

Keith slips into some bad eating habits but everyone helps him get better. Klance happens towards the end. Also available on ao3 (@idiottwizard)

It had started innocently enough.

Keith had put on a little weight, maybe he had been eating too much or maybe it had been muscle mass but it still showed up on the scale as 10 more pounds on the monthly check-ins they were made to do, and that gave him a weird sick feeling in his stomach. That sick feeling lasted into the night, skipping dinner with the other paladins entirely.

The next day he trained harder than he usually did, until he could feel his muscles burning. He didn’t stop until he thought he might collapse, knowing that would just cause the team to worry.

Today he showed up to dinner, at least, but when his eyes landed on the food he got that sick feeling again and he wanted to gag. He mostly played with the food, just telling the team he felt sick again, taking at least a few bites to ease their worries. Even if the food stuck in his throat and he struggled to swallow he told himself and the others that he must have just caught the space flu or something similar.

After dinner, he left to train again, fighting the sparring robot until very atom of his bing felt like lead weights. Even then, when he thought he couldn’t push himself any further he did, despite feeling lightheaded from whatever made him sick.

Keith weighed himself on his own the next morning, staring in shock as he was already several pounds down. That couldn’t be healthy, he thought, but he didn’t question it, just happy to be on his way to his normal and healthy weight.

A week passed. The sick feeling didn’t go away.

The other paladins were worried, he was more fatigued during training and they feared that he may slip up in battle. They also noticed how little he was eating, never fully missing a meal but never eating more than three bites and then claiming he was full. They didn’t say anything, not to Keith’s face, at least, but he could hear the hushed whispers as he left the dining hall to train every day.

He didn’t understand why they were so worried, honestly. He could keep it under control.

At the next weigh-in, Keith was underweight by a decent amount. Keith brushed it off. Shiro didn’t let it go. Shiro told Keith he needed to eat. Keith told him he had been, and he had, he wasn’t lying, but the light snacking and few bites at dinner weren’t enough, Keith worked that off within a half-hour of his training and would always train for several hours more after that.

Keith insisted he was fine, but everyone was obviously worried about him. He would yell when he saw them giving him those pitying looks. He was a paladin of Voltron, he didn’t need their empathy.

A few days later Keith was flat on his back in the training room, his breathing ragged. He stood on shaky legs, his vision going black for a solid thirty seconds but he just pretended he could see. Another round with the sparring robot and he was on his back again, coughing into his hand. He tasted blood but kept going.

When he stood after that, he fainted. Hunk and Lance found him, he wasn’t sure if it was minutes or hours after he fainted but he assured them he had just stood up too fast.

They didn’t believe him. Worry was evident on both of their faces but this time he didn’t yell, he just let them carry him to the infirmary. In the back of his mind, he knew he wasn’t okay but he put on a brave face, mostly for the sake of his team. Hunk left to find Shiro and the rest of the team, leaving Keith with lance in a heavy silence.

“You know we care about you, right?’ Lance said softly.

“I know,” Keith hummed, staring at the ceiling as he laid back on the Altean hospital bed.

They sat in silence for another few moments before Lance spoke again.

“Do you know I care about you, Keith?” Lance’s voice was quiet.

“I just said I know you guys care,” Keith rested his hands over his chest as he spoke.

“No, Keith,” Lance sighed “I care about you. Not just as a teammate, not just as a paladin of Voltron.”

Keith just raised an eyebrow at that, not saying anything or taking his eyes off the ceiling.

“I care about you as a person,” Lance said finally, his voice cracking, which made Keith sit straight up, feeling his heart shatter seeing Lance crying.

Keith’s feelings towards Lance were complicated, to say the least. Lance had always pissed him off and annoyed him, sure, but he had an undeniable charm and he brought joy to any room he walked in, even Keith could admit that. Keith could even admit that Lance was handsome, without the shit-eating grin on his face at least. He had thought about Lance when he was alone, eyes slammed shut and breathing heavy, even, but he felt gross about it afterward. At times a brief thought of Lance kissing him crossed his mind but it was always pushed away before he could really think about it.

Keith hadn’t laughed much in the past few months but Lance could usually manage to make him crack a smile for at least a moment, even if he forced into a scowl before anyone could notice.

So maybe Keith had a soft spot for Lance, despite their rivalry. It hurt Keith to see Lance crying, especially over something like worrying about Keith. He almost wiped away Lance’s tear but caught himself before his hand reached his face, pulling him into a hug instead.

Lance cried harder and Keith squeezed him close, not really caring if he got tears or snot on him.

“I’m okay, Lance, shh,” he whispered, rubbing circles on Lance’s back, fighting back tears himself.

Seeing Lance like this made him realize how much he genuinely was cared about and it hit him like a truck, feeling guilty for yelling when anyone gave him those looks filled with pitty. The team really had just cared about him.

Keith broke, sobbing into Lance’s shoulder and taking fistfuls of his shirt. He isn’t sure how long they stay like that, clinging to each other and crying pathetically, but by the time Shiro and the others came in neither of them were crying anymore, though it had been evident that they were.

What happened next had basically been an intervention. Keith explained what happened, promising that he would try harder to eat more, not arguing when Shiro told him he couldn’t train anymore until he got his weight back up, knowing that Shiro knew what was best for him.

That night Keith ate a little more at dinner, wanting to get better for the sake of his team, and he could tell they were grateful for it.

When Keith was about to go to sleep there was a soft knock at his door, he opened it to reveal Lance, armed with a sheepish smile and some pillows and blankets.

“Can I sleep on your floor?” Lance asked quietly, to which Keith tilted his head.

“Sure, but why?” Keith asked

“It feels safer...I know you’re safe if I’m here.”

Keith didn’t say anything else but he opened the door more for Lance, letting him in and closing him behind him. He made sure Lance had a comfortable space on the floor, piling several layers of blankets so his back wouldn’t hurt before climbing into his own bed, staying close to the edge.

Both of them stared at the ceiling, not speaking even if they were both awake, and when Keith’s hand drooped off the bed Lance slowly intertwined their fingers. It didn’t take them long to fall asleep after that, and when they woke up their hands were still loosely holding each other.

Keith knew he was going to be alright.

It was hard, of course, but Keith got better. He still had his bad days, he still trained too hard sometimes, but everyone supported him through it all.

Lance kept sleeping on Keith’s floor, he kept holding his hand at night. At some point, he stopped sleeping on the floor, he complained just once about his back hurting and Keith started making him sleep on the bed with him, and Lance was okay with that.

After some time, they started holding hands during the day, under the table when Keith was struggling to get a meal down or when they were walking together and Lance would intertwine their hands.

They started kissing too, Keith made the first move but Lance swore it was the other way around.They made it official not too long after that. None of the paladins were surprised, and they were genuinely happy for the two of them.

Keith was proud of how healthy he was now, physically and mentally, and Lance was proud of him too. And knowing Lance was proud of him? That was the best feeling in the world for Keith.

#no beta we die like men #klance #klangst #keith kogane #keith voltron #lance mcclain #lance voltron #vld #voltron #hurt/comfort #hurtcomfort #angst

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jojotichakorn · 4 years

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Theory of Love: Review (& General Info)

Summary: Third is a film major, who’s been in love with his best friend Khai since the very first day of university. The problem is, Khai has a rule - he doesn’t date friends. And to make matters worse, he is a terrible player, who’s dated girls from each faculty. Will Third give up on pursuing Khai? Love him from afar? Or will something entirely unexpected happen? (Trailer)

Couples: Two mlm couples - one main, one background.

Running Time: 12 episodes - around 53 minutes each - 10,5 hours in total

Cast (& their Instagram pages): Gun Atthaphan (Third), Off Jumpol (Khai), White Nawat (Two), Mike Chinnarat (Bone), Earth Pirapat (An), Neen Suwanamas (Lyn), Sara Legge (Paan), Foei Patara (Chen), [more].

Where to watch? YouTube

Related Shows: None

My Review:

Rating: 5.5/10

Short review: Considering how I didn’t connect with some of the actors, most of the characters and pretty much all relationships, as well as with the plot overall, I found this BL kind of boring and even annoying at times. There is enough problematic moments here and there, but I wouldn’t say they’re necessarily critical. This is possibly my most subjective review to date, because most things I don’t like about this show just don’t fit me personally. And since it’s not that bad and I know that a lot of people love it, maybe you will too. So at the end of the day, I don’t recommend it, but I’m not saying you should be necessarily staying away from it either. Though, as usual, it’s obviously your own decision to make.

Extended review (under the cut):

Theory of Love is one of those BLs that everyone seems to love. It’s on everyone’s list of favorite BLs of all time, and every character favorites list features at least one person from TOL. Which is why I feel weird about not liking it.

The thing is though, I don’t hate it. I think it’s kind of alright and at times really annoying and problematic, but that’s about it. Mostly, I just don’t care about it. Like at all. And I’m gonna talk about why.

So, the cast of TOL is stellar, in my personal opinion. At least, at face value it is. There’s extremely popular familiar faces, like Off, Gun, Earth, White and Neen. New faces that truly captivated me right away, like Sara, Foei and especially Mike. And, most of them lived up to my expectations. Off is still good, Earth is still as perfect at subtle acting as he’s always been (which is especially helpful this time around), everyone is just truly great. Well, with one exception. And I should’ve probably mentioned this last, because he is generally accepted as one of the best actors not only in GMM, but in the BL industry in general. But, I did not believe Gun at all. And I want to mention that it’s the first time I don’t believe Gun like this. I don’t know what happened in TOL (besides, I’m sure lots of people will disagree with me), but to my mind he wasn’t real as Third at all. I don’t see him being in love with Khai. He says that he is and everything he does confirms it (like literally everything – cute moments and thoughts and looks, all the puzzle pieces are there), but I just don’t see it. And he never really manages to make me feel anything. He cries and breaks down and has a generally terrible time, and with my head I understand that this is all extremely said, but my heart stays still – I don’t feel a thing. And maybe that’s why I never managed to like TOL that much – because I am completely disconnected with the lead. But it is what it is, you know.

The characters in this show once again make me feel conflicted. Third’s personality is far more sarcastic and blunt than other BL mains’ – and I do like that. Khai, on the other hand, was first unlikable to me and like really annoying, and then after feeling a little bad for him closer to the end, my pity sort of cancelled out my hate and they met in the middle, making me just not care for him at all. They do try to give background characters a little more depth just by having one-two conversations with them alone, but it feels kind of forced – like they knew they needed to make them more real, but they did it so mechanically that they ended up being even more fake. Thus, the most memorable and likable characters to me ended up being the ones we know the least about – An and Chen.

The friendships in this drama are good and bad all at the same time. I don’t think I have to mention that Khai is a terrible friend, but it’s meant to be that way, so that was handled perfectly. I was never really sure why anyone was friends with him in the first place (or at least anyone who isn’t Third, because love is blind), but that happens sometimes – we get stuck with shitty people, so whatever. I can see how that could happen. Otherwise, friendship in TOL is kind of a one-way train. It’s a great modern train with all luxuries, but it only goes one way. What I mean by that is all background characters like Two, Bone, An and Chen are amazing friends to Khai and/or Third. Their relationship is truly detailed, they apologize, help, notice things, talk - just do things friends do. But, Khai and Third don’t return the favor. And I could understand why that happens with someone like Chen or even An – they aren’t really POV characters in any instance in the show. But, Bone and Two have their own real storylines and things happening in their lives, which the viewer follows and is invested in. But Khai and Third don’t know about them, because they just never even ask how their friends are doing. Which sucks.

The romantic relationships in this show are (mostly) a mess. Khai and Third’s “bond” is nowhere near being profound – it’s toxic, damaging and disappointing. At the end they do get together and “Yay!” I guess, but I don’t see them truly resolving their issues (or realistically staying together for long). For example, Third clearly still doesn’t trust Khai and it’s mentioned for the drama, but then it’s never truly resolved. Bone is thrust into this weird thing with his professor – and thank gods he didn’t end up with her, but it was still really unnecessary in my opinion. An and Two are sort of a beam of light in this whole relationship mess. Overall, they have a pretty good storyline – its complicated enough and simple enough in all the right places. There are things that are kind of related to An and Two that kind of make me mad – for example, the way Two tries approaching Lyn. But, mostly it’s good. I especially liked how their connection was subtly established from the very beginning – and looking back at it (or rewatching it), you can see some clear signs.

The overall plot is kind of good. It can be funny and even self-aware at times, though there are a lot of unrealistic, stupid, nonsensical things there as well. The only real specific criticism I have is that background storylines don’t seem to exist outside of background storylines. There is a lot of examples with AnTwo specifically. The KhaiThird and AnTwo plots are sort of intertwined, because An is Third’s friend, as well as Khai’s supposed rival (because everyone thinks An is approaching Third), and obviously Two is Khai and Third’s friend, who is directly involved in their relationship. So, there are moments when – for example – Khai is jealous of Third and An, Two is there (at the time, already realizing he feels something for An, or that he is at least important to him), but he is completely unfazed, as if this doesn’t have anything to do with him at all. Which, even if he was approaching it all “maturely” or trying to hide his real feelings, there would still be some sort of minor reaction. And there’s just none.

The theme of someone confidently believing in something and it not being true is present multiple times in this show. And usually, when a story does that, it’s quite complicated. All the facts are carefully established so that the viewer believes the lie, and then when the truth is revealed, the viewer looks back on the story and sees all the clear clues to the truth that were given, as well as just how and why they’ve misinterpreted every detail that led them to believe the lie. This all is very hard work that requires some smart, careful planning. Which TOL didn’t do. An truly seems to be into Third and there is no other way to interpret some of the things he does with him, and Khai truly does act really flirty with Third in the beginning, which can only be interpreted as him trying to approach Third, which was not true at the time. (Even if he subconsciously liked him, that was legit planned flirting – not subtle things that could reveal his true feelings). It’s clear that this is all done for the drama with all disregard to why this trope is usually used. And there is many moments where something really nonsensical and completely inexplicable happens just to further the drama. TOL is drenched in plotlines like that – and there is nothing I hate more than unnecessary drama.

The movie theme is present throughout the whole show – both directly and indirectly. They do connect everything with movies quite well, and the cinematography choices are more meaningful than they usually are. The way shots are set up, the subtle details that are hidden in camera work and setting specifically – all of it is quite artistic and careful, which makes me think it was done specifically because of the relating themes of movie making in the show itself. The only thing I didn’t really like was how much the things that were happening was compared to “how as if it was all just a movie”. It was ironic the first couple of times, but stupid and repetitive the next hundred.

LGBTQ+ issues aren’t really touched upon in the show. But, when they kind of are – it ain’t it chief. Khai’s friend telling him he couldn’t possibly imagine “a dude like him being into another dude”, Khai feeling uncomfortable with imagining a date with Third similar to the ones he takes his girlfriends to, and the ever present intimacy problem, which mostly belongs to AnTwo here (boyfriends kiss, GMM – they do). Now in certain context or with some explanation, these might’ve been better, but there is no good context or explanation here – it’s just Bad.

There’s quite a few other problematic moments in this show. A lot of them are connected with Khai and Third. For example, Khai physically pins Third down when he’s trying to talk to him, while Third cries and screams to let him go. After receiving a “no” over and over again, Khai asks Third to be his boyfriend once again – this time in a public place, making a big deal out of it, with everyone chanting “yes”. Khai also admits that he sees all the girls he’s with as an object – which in the context is positioned against Third, who he sees as a person. It’s made to look romantic and special, but it’s just some kind of a new fucked up version of “you’re not like other girls”. Also, and this is slightly less serious but very annoying to me, Bone’s new girlfriend was introduced at the very end of the series. And by introduced, I mean “Here’s a girl, she’s Bone’s girl” – and that’s the entirety of the introduction. It has no value or meaning to the viewer and seems to send a message that Bone’s story could only have a happy ending, if he ended up in a relationship as well, which is obviously a shitty fucking message. I would’ve preferred him staying single.

Finally, talking about some small details that caught my attention. The main quartet is a very stereotypical teen movie gang, but I think that’s intentional and it does fit well. They’re also third and forth years, which is kind of unusual for BLs, so that’s pretty cool. I do love the style – I want all their outfits and hairstyles like right now. The sound choices are not always the best, but the music can be pretty nice. There’s quite a few metaphors here and there – and they’re actually good. But, there’s not nearly enough attention to detail sometimes. The kisses are really good – no doubt about that here. And, surprisingly, they address the fact that kissing someone out of the blue is not ok multiple times, which is really great (and – let’s be fair – pretty unexpected, which makes it even better).

Overall, as I’ve said before, I don’t really hate this show. Despite criticizing it, I mostly just don’t care for it. It isn’t a BL I would recommend to someone, but if I was actually asked, if someone should watch this specific BL – I would say “Sure, why not”. It’s not that bad and I know that a lot of people love it, so maybe you will too. So at the end of the day, I don’t recommend it, but I’m not saying you should be necessarily staying away from it either. Though, as usual, it’s obviously your own decision to make.

#my most controversial opinion is in my dudes kgjskldfjlkdjf #theory of love #archer's bl recs

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cursed-ice-spirits · 4 years

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Assassins Don’t Cry

In this universe, Rebecca is still a loner, still an outcast, still the girl who pushed Merula in her first day at Hogwarts. Her brother is dead from trying to find her curse and her parents are split up, and she’s still sent to the Caldwells, who are still assassins who use demons to kill. But one thing changed. The actions of her mother’s family are released to the world on the day she escapes from them, every kill her mother has made is listed on the Daily Prophet and there are rumors that Rebecca killed a man herself. Some are sympathetic, including the Son of the Boy-Who-Lived (aka Ollie Potter @ryollie), others... not so much.

Rebecca didn’t like Ollie Potter at first. It was not of the boy’s fault but after all the whispers of the ‘Chosen One’s Son,’ she grew annoyed at the slightest mention of him. She never liked gossip or nonsense like that so it certainly didn’t help that much.

So it came as a surprise that she found herself growing close to Penny Haywood, famous for being the most popular girl who drinks in gossip.

Who knew Pretty Penny Haywood would be friends with Rebecca Lord, the loner artist who adores dwelling in Charms? Which is how Rebecca finds herself being pulled out of the library to be introduced to Penny’s new boyfriend.

“Penny,” she groaned, looking longingly at the library. “Do I have to meet your boyfriend?” She asks and wrinkles her nose at the thought. Third-Years and her peers around her are already dating around. Frankly she doesn’t understand the fuss but whatever makes Penny happy.

Penny looked back at her, a sly smile playing on her lips. “I told you, you need to talk to people other than me. I thought introducing you to my boyfriend is a good start.”

“What and shoving me to Talbott wasn’t enough?”

“He’s a loner like you! He doesn’t count.”

Rebecca resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Wow, Haywood. How rude.”

Penny only ignored her and merely tugged her to the direction of a young boy with white fluffy hair. “Ollie is one of the sweetest people I know, so I hope he’s a good start to being social and having friends, Merlin knows you need them—“

Rebecca rolled her eyes and tuned her out, and watched as she lifted a hand to cup it over her mouth, calling “Ollie!!” at the top of her lungs, and noted that the boy looked oddly familiar-

Wait a minute, Rebecca thought, realization dawning on her as the boy turned around, finding herself meeting bright green eyes with her own hazel eyes. Oh, motherfucker-

Ollie Potter stood before her, green eyes glimmering curiosity as they flickered from Penny to her. Of course, Penny Haywood would date Ollie bloody Potter, Rebecca screams internally. Pretty popular Penny Haywood with her pretty long hair and sparkling eyes WOULD date Ollie Potter who has a snake and puffskein for pets and emeralds as eyes, what the fuck-

“Ollie,” Penny said happily, pushing her in front of her. “This is Rebecca. A friend of mine. Rebecca this is Ollie.”

Rebecca fought the urge to hide behind the blonde. “Hi,” she said, eyeing him warily. Is he arrogant? Is he kind? She never knows with the rumors.

Ollie flashes her a smile, although his eyes shone with cautiousness. Rebecca approves. “Hi,” he greets back.

It never really went farther than that. Rebecca never voluntarily approached him and they never exchanged a word other than a passing “hello” unless Penny decided to drag her into a conversation, which Rebecca doesn’t really fancy as she ends up being a third wheel anyway. One thing that came out of it was Rebecca’s opinion of him going down to merely “he’s okay” but never more than that. When they did truly talk, it was ironically after their breakup.

Lazily floating through the air, Rebecca held on to her broom with one hand and leaned to the right, a frown flickering on her face when she noticed someone sitting on the fountain lid, someone with white fluffy hair.

She knew only one person with white fluffy hair. Remembering what Penny told her (and did, she thought with a flush) she urged her broom down, hair blowing past her shoulders as she flew closer to the Slytherin.

“Potter,” she spoke up, hovering above his head. She watched him jump and look up, her lips curling into a smile as she watched his expression shift. “A knut for your thoughts?”

“Um…” Emerald eyes flickered away nervously, then back at her and she rolled her eyes.

“I’m not going to bite, y’know,” she said, drifting closer to the ground and hopping off. She carefully placed her broom down and sat next to him, glancing over to him. “Penny told me some stuff and I decided to drop by.”

“Oh,” he said, his eyes drifting to his lap. “How much did she told you?”

“Only that you two broke up,” she told him, yanking her shoes and socks off and setting them on the ground beside her broom. She dipped her feet in the water and stared as the water curled around them, feeling none of the coolness as she turned a frown to him, “What’s up with that anyway?”

With those words, he spilled. He talked about Talbott and his apparent fling with him, how he obliviated him of his memories with him and how he only recently regained them. Her frown only deepened as he continued on to explain his confrontation with Talbott, which lead to the breakup. Thinking back, Rebecca thought it was strange that he’ll spill his guts out to someone he only knew through Penny but considering she is close to her, it wouldn’t be too much of a surprise that he told her because of that.

“And I’m assuming you’re sitting here thinking about your feelings for both of them,” she said once he stopped to catch his breath. She pretended not to notice the tears on his cheeks, merely passing him a tissue.

Ollie rubbed his eyes and nodded. “Yeah I… I don’t know whether or not my feelings for Penny are actually genuine, or if it’s because of the memory wipe,” he said softly. “I’m scared that I was using her this whole-”

She splashed water at him with her foot, not flinching when he recoiled, turning wide eyes at her. “Oi oi, stop that,” she said, folding her arms. “Penny doesn’t blame you for this mess. How do you even feel during your relationship with her?”

Ollie opened his mouth, then closed it, frowning. “Strange...” Ollie furrowed his brows and drew his legs to his chest. “Like… Like something’s missing.”

“Elaborate.” Rebecca moved her feet back and forth, watching the water swish around her feet.

“It only grew stronger as I dated her,” he continued. “Sometimes during a date, I’d reach out to touch her face and then get a weird flashback of doing the same to someone else, someone I now remember as Talbott,” he mused softly.

Rebecca held her temple. “Oh dear, this is a mess.” She held up a finger. “I’m going to be very very harsh here, but it’s realistic and I don’t like sugarcoating things.” She looked at him in the eye. “Either way, both of them are going to be hurt. Talbott is going to be hurt and even if you say that you don’t care, he’s still someone you loved in the past and before that, a dear friend. Penny’s going to be hurt too. Whatever if it’s you choosing Talbott or the feelings you had for her really is because of the memory wipe.”

Ollie flinched violently and squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t want to hurt her,” he murmured. “She’s a nice girl — I was happy with her, really.”

“She’ll move on. Both of them,” Rebecca said, feeling pity. The poor guy, stuck in such a horrible mess. “Heartbreak is hard.” She closes her eyes, remembering the deep ache that she can’t place a finger on what it means months before. “The only thing we can do is move on.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, his eyes flickering to her. “You would know how that feels, right? You liked her.”

Rebecca’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t like her that way,” she denied. “Did I…?” She trailed off, thinking about her times with Penny. The pain in her chest whenever she saw her with Ollie, the butterflies in her stomach when she smiled at her… “Oh Merlin, I did.”

Ollie gave her a little smirk and despite the fact that it was at her own expense, it makes her pleased to see it. “I noticed you always have this pained look in your eyes around us and sorta pieced it together,” he admitted. “Your eyes will always linger on her. She makes you happy, right? I know you make her happy too.”

“I’m not going to be a rebound for her,” Rebecca said quietly. She bit her lip and thought about her curse, trying not to think about her inevitable death. Not wanting to turn the water to ice, Rebecca drew her legs to her chest. “And it wouldn’t work out. I don’t have feelings for her anymore. I moved on and I don’t want to force myself to like her again.”

“Well, Penny was a rebound for me in a way.”

“Potter!”

“In a way! I…” he trailed off and frowned at her. After staring for a few minutes, he pushed, “Are you sure about that? Are you sure you moved on? You really don’t like her anymore?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Rebecca folded her arms defensively across her chest. “What are you going with this, Potter?”

Ollie cocked his head to the side, still frowning. “You don’t look like you’ve moved on. You sound unsure, less certain.”

Rebecca opened her mouth, then closed it as she thought about her feelings toward Penny. “I don’t really know, but I’m not in a rush to figure it out. I’ll know eventually.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe you should do the same. Take a break from romance. Think about your feelings. Love is complicated and this whole situation is messy, so maybe time will help you think.”

Ollie averted his eyes. “Maybe. I don’t know, I’m just confused on how I feel. About both of them.”

“Love is complicated,” Rebecca repeated. “Love sucks and burns you from the inside and leaves you wanting more. Yeah it’s beautiful and it keeps you going, but it also hurts you. It takes time to figure it out and it’s exactly what you need right now.”

“I… guess,” Ollie said, closing his eyes. He gave her a small smile and Rebecca immediately pushed away the feeling of awe raising inside of her. “Thanks, Rebecca.”

She patted his shoulder and pulled away, lifting her feet out of the water to pick up her broom. “Not a problem.”

—————

4th Year was off to a great start. After the horrible summer she had, she’s been getting flashbacks upon flashbacks and it certainly doesn’t help with all the negative spotlight on her. She’s learned to never walk alone unless she wanted to be tripped and it’s fairly easy, finding herself walking with Andre or Penny to classes

But she can’t be so lucky continuously, because Andre and Penny don’t share some of her classes. They can’t stick with her 24/7. So it’s really no wonder she finds her foot getting snagged against something and proceeding to tumble to the ground hard.

In the corner of her eye, she notices someone moving toward her, only to be pushed away by a wall of people that circled around her. She appreciates the effort though, even as a foot slams into her side.

“Seriously?!” Samuel Lockwood laughed as he looked down at her, smirking. He was the one who tripped her. She knew this for sure. He kicked at her again. “You’re still here?”

“Stop crying for attention,” Someone— she can't tell who it is, but it was familiar for sure — sneered, aiming a kick at her. “We know you’re not the victim here.”

“Murderer.” Kick.

“Why would Dumbledore let someone like you be in school?” Kick.

“No mommy to protect you here.” Belinda Murray sneered. Kick.

“You’re no better than a death eater.” Kick.

“Hey—“

“Nobody wants a murderer here.” Kick.

“Get out while you can. It’s better for all of us.” Kick.

“Egwu and Haywood really lowered their standards for you huh?” Kick.

A long time ago, she would have fought back with everything she got using her teeth and nails, but she’s not that person anymore. Her time with the Caldwells taught her fighting back will only make it worse and that lesson won’t be unlearned anytime soon. Rebecca felt herself going slack, letting blow after blow rain down on her. Just let it happen and it’ll be over soon…

“Hey!”

Slowly, the kicks stopped. Confusion swept over her, and she lifted her head just in time to see Ollie driving his fist into Lockwood’s gut, a furious expression etched on his face. Rebecca winced as Ollie grasped Lockwood’s collar, swinging back and punching him in the face and covered her eyes, peeking from under her fingers and staring in disbelief at the scene she’s witnessing, because it’s the first time someone other than Andre or Penny defended her.

“Ollie?”

Ollie glanced at her and dropped Lockwood like a rag doll. In seconds, he moved to her side, smiling gently despite the fact that he just beat up one of her main bullies. “Hey,” he said, stretching out a hand to her and letting her take it, before wrapping his hands around her arms and pulling her to her feet. “Let’s go. We need to get you to the Hospital Wing,” he said, then shot everyone around them a glare, “and away from these scum.”

Averting her eyes, Rebecca refuses to look at him, opting to instead lean her weight against his shoulder. Not that it was hard. She felt a hand taking her arm and wrapping it around his shoulders, and she has to force herself not to recoil away.

There’s this sort of… ringing in her ears that drowns out the whispers that rose as Ollie tugged her pass the crowd. She doesn’t need to hear the whispers to know that they’re talking about her, not even with Ollie’s frequent glares aimed at the crowd around her. Too busy trying to put one foot over the other, she doesn't realize where she’s going until her foot hits something hard.

Stopping in her tracks, her eyes slowly moved down, going first to her bag, ripped up with one of the straps cut cleanly off, then to her ink-soaked textbooks laying haphazardly on the ground, and finally, her sketchbook ripped and shredded beyond recognition.

Ba-thump. She can’t seem to move. Everything in there, her dreams and passions and the love poured into its pages ruined and gone.

Ba-thump. And then Ollie is standing in front of her, holding her shoulders gently in his hands as he calls out her name, his brow furrowed with concern, concern that only grows when she doesn’t respond.

Ba-thump. She can’t fucking b r e athe

They must have stolen it from her while she was being beaten and ripped it up. Lockwood’s work, she can see his h an dwr i ting, etching slurs and insults on the remains of the pages.

The archer tugs back the string, releasing the arrow, and her world comes crashing down, and a single tear rolls down her cheek

“Caldwells don’t cry.”

She doesn’t need to look up to know it's her grandfather and her shoulders raise in panic, trying desperately to suck in air and failing and failing and failing. Phantom hands are wrapping around her arms and throat and squeezing tightly and she can’t breathe. Get off get off get off get off-

STOOOOOPPPPP.

A wave of calmness suddenly washed over her. It sends shivers of warmth down her arms, her legs, her torso, splashing over her like a warm hug. It’s soft, kind, and it makes her relax… and she hates it. She has never been fond of things in her mind and if it can force her to calm down like this, it gives her a reason to hate it even more. She had struggled against it, panic rising at the foreign presence in her mind even as a voice drifted in her mind, drowning out her grandfather’s voice. But the more she struggled, the stronger the calmness grew, and eventually, her vision clears and she finds herself stumped on the ground. Through blurry vision, she can see Ollie sitting at a respectful distance, talking gently.

“Can you hear me now? Nod once if you do. Good good, slow your breathing. You’re still gasping for air. Breathe in to 4. Breathe out to 4. 4 in. 4 out. That’s it.”

Slowly, she started getting back to reality. The calmness is still there and she hates it, she doesn’t know what it is but it manages to keep her calm and she wants it out of her head if it can control it. She doesn’t know what it is, but it’s coming from Ollie and she doesn’t like it. When he saw her breathing slow into a normal rate, he smiles and reaches over, stopping when he sees her immediately flinching away from his hand.

“Can you get up?” He asked softly. She shook her head and jerked it away, refusing to make eye contact. “I’m going to pick you up, okay? You still need to get to the hospital wing.”

Rebecca doesn’t answer, even as he carefully hoists her on his back and starts moving to the Hospital Wing, even as he carefully pushes through the corridors.

Because she doesn’t think she’ll ever see him the same way ever again.

—————

Rebecca never seems to be able to sleep in the hospital wing. Every time Pomfrey told her to rest and every time, she ends up laying on her back and staring at the white ceiling, watching the time tick by. Her hands were covered with gloves and spelled with a sticking charm so she won’t pick at her cuticles from sheer boredom, and her sketchbook is still destroyed, so she can’t draw. But either she attempts to go to sleep, or run around the hospital wing and risk agitating her injuries AND angering Pomfrey.

So attempt to sleep it is.

Groaning, she rolls on her side, ignoring the dull aches in her side, and goes to close her eyes, when she hears flapping wings whooshing over her head. It can’t be Aurora, it’ll be silent. So, opening her eyes, she very nearly jolts out of her bed when she finds herself face to face with a white crow seeing by her bedside.

“WHAT THE FU—” She starts to shout, before the bird shifts from a bird, to Ollie bloody Potter, who jumps on her bed and slaps a hand over her mouth.

“Shush!” He whisper-yells, sounding panicked. “Do you want to wake up Pomfrey?”

“I’m sorry if I’m surprised when I find right in the face of a white crow, who - by the way - was you!” Rebecca whispered to him, pulling his hand off her mouth and scooting over to allow him room to sit. As mad as she is about… whatever that was, maybe he’ll be here to explain. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

Ollie shrugged and sat cross-legged on the bed. “I wanted to check on you and give you this,” he murmured, pulling out a sketchbook, her sketchbook. “I managed to fix it while you were here — I had a lot of trial and error but it’s good as new And… I was a bit impatient to wait until morning.”

“My sketchbook!” Rebecca gasped, taking it in her hands with care. It's definitely it. It has her name on it. She carefully flips it open. The pages weren’t shredded and she can see the lines where the rips were. The stitching is back to its normal tension and even the best ends were straightened out. None of the slurs and insults were written on her drawings. It was as if nobody touched it. “Thank you but… Check on me?” She frowned, carefully sitting up. “Why? You’ve done enough when you forcefully calmed me down and took me to the hospital wing.”

She didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh but it did because he flinched and looked down guiltily. “Right, about that,” he sighed. “I’m… sorry for being terrible at comforting you.” She folded her arms and waited as he struggled with his words. “I’ve never been good at comforting people, at all, so I always took the easy way out. I’ll never know what to do if I didn’t have my veela powers-”

Her eyebrows went up. “You’re a veela?” She blurted out loudly before she could stop herself. Wincing, she lowered her face again. “That’s what the feeling from before was?”

A flash of amusement flickered over his face. She couldn’t see in the darkness very well, but she knew it was there. “Yeah, only ¼ though. My father was ½ and my grandmother was full veela. You didn’t know?”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “People talked about the Son of The Chosen One so many times, it’s getting a bit creepy. I’ve long since tuned them out. I wanted to know about people when I talk to them, and not from other people who have already formed a biased opinion of them. Don’t look so surprised,” she told him, seeing the agape look on his face. “Why do you think I never looked at you with starry eyes?”

Ollie closed his mouth and his shoulders relaxed. He’s smiling, contented; relieved even. “Sorry,” he murmured. “People look at me and never think of just Ollie. They just see the son of Harry Potter.”

She sighed. “Too bad for them. They don’t see the real you. By the way,” she reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I forgive you. You did it in the only way you know how to. Just… don’t do it without warning me next time unless you absolutely have to, alright? Promise?”

Ollie smiles wider and touches her hand. “Promise.”

#this is so bad and im sorry it took so long but i hope it makes you happy #ily ness #ollie potter #penny haywood #rebecca lord #lockwood gang #hphm #hphm fic #hphm fanfiction #hphm fanfic #hogwarts mystery #lunar writes

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artistic-writer · 5 years

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The Contract :: CS Omegaverse :: Chapter 1

Title: The Contract Rating: E Summary: Emma had never wanted much in her life, despite being married to one of the richest men in the world. For ten years she has felt like a prisoner in her own marriage, denied the one thing she wants the most, but her husband cannot help but bargain her want like a cheap business deal. Enter Killian Jones, the Alpha her husband has hired to make sure she gets what she wants. And then some. A/N: This is an Omegaverse fic featuring A/B/O dynamics. Whilst this varies from fandom to fandom, for the purposes of my fic, there will be no mpreg. Just so you know. There will however be knotting, breeding, heats and other delicious things that come along with A/B/O. If you do not know what A/B/O is, feel free to message me :) Many thanks to @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @darkcolinodonorgasm @resident-of-storybrooke and @effulgentcolors for letting me bounce my complicated ideas of you lol

Also, I am no longer doing a tag list. This is something I have struggled with because of memory issues, so to be fair to everyone, and to make sure you don’t miss out, you should allow notifications or subscribe on AO3. If you wish to stay away from this fic, blacklist the A/B/O tag.

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Emma Swan was sick. Her head pounded from the daylight that had crept its way through her bedroom curtains, slipping through the only space it could which lead right across her face. The orange blaze burned its mark into her forehead, finally annoying her enough that she opened her eyes the tiniest crack and lazily watched the specks of dust dancing in the beam. Luckily for her, the sun was slow moving, and she easily avoided it by rolling out of the way across the huge queen size bed that she shared with her husband.

Unluckily for her, he was still asleep right beside her. He was normally gone by now.

Graham Humbert was normally an early riser, waking, showering and eating his breakfast like a military man who had repeated the same morning every single day of his life. But he wasn’t any sort of combat veteran, and held no stories of anything more sinister than a board meeting. No. Routine was his everything. There was never any room in his busy CEO life for any deviation and as a consequence, Emma had paid the ultimate price of marrying him.

She was lonely. He was good looking, she couldn’t deny that, and as she gazed upon the gentle rise and fall of his smooth back muscles as he snored softly beside her, she couldn’t help the smile that had crept across her face. Lonely or not, he was still the man who had married her, despite all of her issues, and for that she would always love him. And it wasn’t just today that Emma was feeling out of sorts; she had been sick her entire life.

It had all begun when she was around five or six, but she didn’t remember much of it, only the constant trips to and from the doctor’s office, but when she really thought about it, they were nothing like what they are today. The offices always seemed darker, more shady, and despite her heavy diet of prescription vitamins and supplements to keep the sickness at bay, she never remembered an actual doctor ever examining her.

She was just sick.

Her foster father had been a loving man, doting on her despite having three sons of his own as well, and giving her everything that she wanted. That was, until she had gotten sick. He had changed, becoming nervous around her, which seemed to increase each year that she matured, constantly making sure she was taking her medication. He cared too much and it made the man slightly crazy, as well as gave Emma a hatred for the pills that supposedly kept her alive. He obsessed over her medication so much, that when she was fourteen, he was declared unfit to care for her any longer and she was sent to live with the Humbert family.

They were nice but very different from her old foster family, who mysteriously, despite always living on the poverty line, suddenly decided to vacation in the Maldives just after she had gone. The Humberts looked at her with distaste at first, the one she recognised from her foster father before, and it made Emma unsettled. What had she done to cause so many people in her life to suddenly look at her so differently? She didn’t know, but she had discovered one thing; Graham Humbert was another scrawny teenager just like her and they got on like a house on fire.

Growing up was weird in the Humbert house. Graham’s father was an Alpha, from a long line of them in fact, and his mother had long since died before Emma even arrived . Living with an Alpha was intense, but it had been worse for Graham who, at the age of eighteen, still hadn’t become what his family had expected him to. Coming from a long line of successful Alpha’s meant that as the only Beta born in over three hundred years, Graham was, essentially, as excluded from the family as the foster kid.

Emma had always told him, being a Beta wasn’t so bad though. He might not have any of the attributes of his forefathers, but Graham was a good, kind man, and Emma had on more than one occasion told him any woman would be lucky to have him. It wasn’t exactly what she had intended, but Graham had proposed to her less than a year later and now here she was, ten years into a marriage she felt she had to be in out of obligation and because, she had to face it, who would want to provide for all of her medical bills?

Emma was sick, and she was lonely.

The sheet around her was pulled away as Graham shifted his weight, a grumble escaping his throat as he rolled towards her and relaxed back into sleep once he was on his back. He twitched, one of his hands flying up to scratch at the stubble on his jaw before falling like a dead weight against the smooth contours of his chest. His hair was a mess, the curls stretched and fuzzy, the only evidence of his inability to sleep longer than a few hours that only Emma knew about.

To the world, Graham Humbert was one of the most successful business owners the world had ever known. He was rich, powerful and if it were not for his unfortunate luck, he would have been another generation of mighty Humbert Alphas with their own company and a whole army of staff at their every whim. But he wasn’t an Alpha. He had never found his way into the patriarchal values of his own family and Emma pitied him.

Maybe that was why she had married him. Maybe she didn’t really think low enough of herself that she would have never found true love with anyone else because of her illness, but it didn’t stop her from saying yes. Graham hadn’t even gotten down on one knee, bought her a ring or taken off his damn business suit to ask her that day, but she had said yes and now, a decade later, they were both slaves to their own decisions.

If she had to really admit it, Emma knew they were both unhappy. They loved each other, and there had always been care between them, but lately Emma had noticed a distance between them that was gnawing away at their union. It seemed that not even the wealthy were immune to falling out of love, and despite what her head told her, Emma’s heart ached. She wanted more and had always felt like she needed something else, someone else. Graham had been the first and only man she had ever been with, as awkward as it was sometimes, and deep down Emma couldn’t help but think about the strangest thing.

Alphas.

Since she had turned twenty, just two years into her marriage and around the time Graham started to drift away from her, Emma had been fascinated with Alphas. Her friend and fellow socialite, Ruby Lucas, had told her stories, of all ratings, and Emma had guiltily wished she wasn’t married so she could experience one for herself. She hadn’t gone a single day of her life since then without imagining the strong arms of an Alpha male, holding her tightly as he emptied the frustrations of his rut into her. Alphas haunted her dreams, left her waking in a cold, horny sweat, but she was stuck with the man beside her; a Beta with an Alpha complex.

Graham stirred finally, Emma realising that for once, she had rose long before his body clock had him waking up. She blamed the sun, but if she was honest, she had been having the most amazing dream that had shaken her from her sleep with a coil in her belly and a welcome heat between her thighs that she hadn’t felt for an age in reality. A sex dream turned her on more than her own husband and Emma hadn’t had one of those for a good long time, just like she hadn’t had a good fuck either.

Graham was many things, including impotent at the worst times, and Emma hadn’t found a way to help him keep his erection long enough so that she could actually get off. Of course, that was her fault. Her mouth was too wet, her mouth was too dry, she was too wet, she was too dry - Graham had never once taken responsibility for his poor performance and a rift had formed between them. When things were good, they were great, but when it came down to pleasing his wife, Graham was filled with anger and contempt.

Emma watched him sleep, his fingers flexing against his chest and his eyelids fluttering, threatening to open. The sheet below his waist twitched, a gentle rise beginning to pleat the cotton. Things had been good lately, because Emma hadn’t broached the idea of sex, but with the intensity of her dream still fluttering between her legs, and Graham with evident morning wood, why not give it a go?

It was a sign.

With a smirk, Emma snuggled her body into Graham’s, snaking her hand over the bumps of his abs that he spent so much time toning. He was asleep, but Graham sucked in a breath, his leg twitching sideways and bumping against hers as she slid her hand lower. Her fingers brushed through the darkened hair over his groin and Emma watched the furrow of his brow as she scraped her nails lightly over the inside of his thigh.

She was trying to wake him, just like she had in the beginning of their relationship, except now she wasn’t out for his pleasure but simply and selfishly, just her own. Her dream had left an impression on her, her subconscious willing a beautiful man between her legs with a wicked tongue and a wit to match. If she squinted, Graham kind of looked like him as he slept, and after all, she could pretend. She had been faking orgasms for over half her marriage, what was one more to scratch an itch?

Emma’s fingertips danced around Graham’s now semi-hard erection, the organ stiffening and twitching under her light touches. Emma smiled when he groaned, his lips parting slightly to exhale and suck in another much needed breath to keep up with the rhythm of his heart, his thigh shaking a little under the thin sheet where they lay. It was fun, watching him helpless to her touch as he slept, because Emma knew if he was awake, things would be very different.

Even though Graham was not an Alpha, he liked to pretend he was, and that included in the bedroom. He had been loving at first, but then things had changed between them and he had become cruel, making her pleasure herself whilst he barely touched her. He liked to watch more than participate and Emma had found a huge void opening up in her sex life that had previously been occupied by the warmth of a man. Now all she had was sex toys and porn - if she was lucky.

“Mmmmm,” Graham hummed, the sound rumbling in his chest as Emma smoothed her palm over his length, swiping her thumb over the tip that had started to ooze under her assault.

“Does that feel good?” Emma purred into his ear, watching the hairs in his beard stand to attention under the soft warmth of her words. His skin prickled to life before her eyes and she smirked.

“Yes,” Graham hissed sleepily, his hips rutting up into her hand for more friction as his erection grew even larger under her hand, firming and springing from his body like a pole.

“Do you like that, baby?” Emma cooed, her tongue darting out to lick at his ear lobe.

“God, Ruby, yes,” Graham moaned, hissing through his teeth.

“Ruby?!” Emma snapped, pushing herself up into a sit beside him and pulling her hand away from him suddenly. She slapped his bare chest and he bolted awake with a fright.

“What? Emma, what’s going on?” Graham asked frantically, scanning the room, squinting when the light hit his face and then noticing that for the first time in a long time, he was lying next to his wife with an erection.

“Ruby?” Emma asked him sternly, folding her arms over her chest and arching an eyebrow at him.

Graham clutched the sheet to his lap, gulping hard and swallowing down the lump that had formed in his throat. His cheeks were pink, his eyes falling to his lap as he desperately tried to will away his shameful erection, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “I said that?”

Emma cast a knowing glance over his body, the position and language it was giving off telling her everything she needed to know. It all made sense now. The late nights away, helping out her friend in the absence of her own much older husband, constant invites and making sure he was seated next to Ruby at dinners. But still, she wanted to hear it from him. “Why would you think I was one of my best friends?” Emma prodded, watching him squirm.

“Don’t be crazy. It was just a dream,” Graham huffed, falling back against the pillows.

“Right, okay,” Emma nodded, turning from his obvious lies and feeling more than angry that her potential fun time had been ruined so abruptly.

“Don’t be like that,” Graham pleaded, sighing heavily. “It’s always the same with you,” he accused. “You can’t blame me for things I say in my sleep, Emma. That’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Emma shrugged, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. She slipped her feet into her slippers and watched the bones in her feet moving under her skin. “Maybe you wish we weren’t married any more.”

“Come on,” Graham soothed, rolling over towards her and reaching a hand out to place on the bare skin of her hip. Emma was wearing just a loose fitting shirt and panties but Graham never noticed nowadays. “Come back and we can try again.”

Emma spun to face him, her frown so heavy on her brow that she thought it would leave lines. She was disgusted, more than that, she was hurt. “Try again?” She spat at him, batting his hand away from her thigh. “Like I’m not good enough?” Graham pulled his hand away, licking his lips nervously, rolling his eyes. “Whose fault is it that you can’t get an erection anymore, Graham, huh?” Emma snapped. “Whose fault is it that you can only get it up when you are thinking of another woman?”

“Emma-,” Graham began, but he was cut off abruptly when Emma slammed her palm into the mattress beside herself in frustration.

“Don’t ‘Emma’ me!” she screeched. “We both know I don’t do it for you anymore.”

“You’re my wife,” Graham ground out through clenched teeth, balling his fist.

“Bullshit,” Emma scoffed. “We both know that doesn’t mean a thing. Being married means love, it means you care, it means you have fucking sex with each other, not sit in the corner of a darkened room jacking off whilst your wife fucks herself.”

“But I like that,” Graham said defensively.

“Oh, good for you,” Emma growled. “It’s okay because you like it.”

“You don’t?” Graham asked dumbly.

Emma gave him a look, a mixture of disbelief and sadness. “If you cared about me, you would know the answer.”

Graham blinked at her accusation. “Of course I care.”

“If you cared for me, even a tiny bit, you’d let me have a divorce.” The sorrow in Emma’s voice hung between them, both looking away from each other to avoid the inevitable apologies that were to follow.

Graham always said how sorry he was, how it wasn’t his fault and it always ended with the same scenario; Emma riding herself into a muted oblivion on a fake Alpha sized cock Graham would strap around his waist. A silence fell between them, just as he had done the last time Emma brought up the subject of divorce. She was sure she was going to get the same excuse as last time, despite her sorrow, and it meant she was trapped.

“Humbert men don’t-,” Graham began in a well rehearsed voice.

“Don’t get divorced, I know.” Emma looked at him with a sigh, her arousal long since disappeared. For two people who were so similar, they sure like tearing each other apart piece by piece, until Emma finally approached the dreaded subject of separation. Emma knew she would never get a divorce, Graham was worth too much money to risk anything so public but that didn’t mean she couldn’t negotiate the terms of her marriage.

“I’m sorry,” Graham said with a sigh, his eyes dropping to the space between them.

“I want excitement, Graham,” Emma told him firmly and his gaze snapped up to meet hers. Her eyes were the most vibrant shade of green he had ever seen and he knew that she meant business. “I want sex, and I want it when I want it, not when you can fit me into your busy schedule.” He listened, blinking at her in disbelief. “I might only be a Beta, but you married me, you settled for me,” Emma said gruffly. “Even if you are fucking Ruby.”

Graham lifted his gaze once more, narrowing his eyes at the woman in front of him. He shifted his weight on his hip, his heart picking up its pace in his chest. “I’m-,”

“You are,” Emma laughed in defeat. “I’m not an idiot, Graham, so please don't take me for a fool.” Emma knew he was indeed fucking her friend, and she had known for a while now. Neither of them were discreet with their flirtation and their emails, which would make the most hardcore Alpha in rut blush, were easily accessible with their joint account. “So, here’s my offer.”

“Offer?” Graham cocked his head at her, intrigued. She nodded.

“I want sex. You can’t give me the sex I want. I want a nice, hard, real cock inside of me. You need to find me someone who can give me sex, and I’ll keep your little side piece a secret. You know, for public image purposes,” Emma smirked.

“That’s your offer?” Graham snorted.

“Take it or leave it,” Emma shrugged. “But every business journal from here to Japan will know about you and Ruby before nightfall.”

“You wouldn’t. You would be ruined too,” Graham told her darkly.

Emma shrugged and gently shook her head from side to side, her hair falling over her shoulders. “Graham, honey, at this point in my life, I have nothing left to lose.”

Graham narrowed his eyes with a sigh. He really was sorry, for what it was worth, but Emma was right. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Deadly,” Emma said coldly. “I couldn’t give a flying fuck if you were doing Ruby in the next room, as long as I am finally satisfied.”

“Can I watch?” Graham said hoarsely, the mere idea of seeing his wife in another man’s arms giving him a tingle downstairs that he hadn’t felt for an age.

“You wanna see me come, baby?” Emma cooed, leaning towards him and licking her lips. “You wanna see a big cock take me over and over until I scream?” Emma taunted him, her eyes darting between his and his slightly parted lips.

“You don’t get to have sex with another man if I don’t get to watch,” Graham grinned.

“Are you seriously negotiating this like a business deal?” Emma snorted, her lips twitching up into a smile and an eyebrow rising on her forehead.

“Of course,” Graham shrugged playfully. “It’s the only thing I am good at.”

Emma stifled a laugh and raised her eyebrows at him. “No deal, and I’d say fucking my best friend was enough leverage for me,” she began, inhaling hard and brushing a stray strand of her golden locks from her forehead. “So, I want someone tall, with a beard, blue eyes and very grabbable hair,” Emma told him firmly, biting her lip as she described the man of her dreams. “I want chest hair to rub my nipples and I want an accent. British.” Emma pointed at him, making sure he knew that detail was important. “Find all that, in one man, and you can fuck Ruby all you like.”

Graham looked at her, his lips twitched up into a sly smile. “Alright,” he agreed with a nod, accepting the challenge. “Anything else?”

“Yes,” Emma grinned, the thought giving her a tingle just by imagining it. “I want an Alpha.”

“What do you mean, she knows?” Ruby screeched. Her hands were thrust into her hair, pulling it away from her forehead as she stared blankly at the floor she was pacing on.

“She knows,” Graham shrugged, his head in his hands. Sitting on a couch in his study, he had decided to tell Ruby, his lover, what Emma, his wife, had said. He’d left out the part about how she knew, a slip of the tongue during his dream state, but that didn’t matter anyway because if the way Ruby was stamping her feet back and forth, wall to wall in the room, it wouldn’t have been a sensible idea to anyway.

“Well, did you tell her?” Ruby accused dryly, her shoes scuffing the floor of his study as she made yet another turn at the apex of her pacing.

“Of course not,” Graham scoffed, his voice vibrating off the floor between his feet.

“Then how does she know?” Ruby demanded, her voice an octave higher in her panic.

“Will you just stop pacing?” Graham looked up with a sigh.

“No. You know what? I think I’ll keep wearing a hole into your expensive floor because I am entitled to!” Ruby stopped, despite her words and pursed her rouged lips. She closed her eyes, inhaled so deeply she thought her lungs were going to explode and then exhaled hard, shaking her dark brown hair over her shoulders with a flick of her head. “Okay, okay, let’s just think here for a second.”

“It’s fine,” Graham told her calmly. He hadn’t really contemplated what Emma had wanted until this exact second, Ruby reminding him that if their affair got out it would be disastrous. She, a woman of high society, would be made out as some common harlot, whilst his reputation, that relied heavily on his family image, would be over quicker than he could blink. Not to mention the shame he would bring to his entire Alpha dominated family, all but guaranteeing his immediate shunning.

“Fine?” Ruby scoffed with a grunt of distaste. “Graham, if this gets out-”

“Don’t worry,” Graham said, pushing himself to his feet with a grunt. “It won’t.”

Ruby laughed, dry and so sarcastically it shook her whole body. “Graham, don’t be naive. She’s your wife and my best friend. This is classic revenge, black mail ammo.”

“Listen,” Graham assured with a few tentative steps towards her. He placed his hands on her shoulders, brushing his thumbs over the patch of skin between the two straps of her top, and gave her a quick smile. He felt her calm instantly, her body swaying under his gentle caress. “Everything is going to be okay, believe me.”

“But how do you know?” Ruby pouted.

“She’s not going to tell anyone, I just have to-”

“To what?!” Ruby panicked again, her body tensing and whipping from his grasp. She took a step back, eyes wide with horror of the unknown. “To stop seeing me?”

Graham looked at her, her lip quivering as she waited for what she thought was their inevitable break up. “No!” He frowned. “God, no,” he laughed.

“This isn’t funny, Graham!” Ruby snapped, slapping his chest and attempting to push him away. “I love you and she’s dragging us apart!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Graham chanted, clutching her fingers before she had time to totally pull away and yanking her to him. He wrapped her up in his arms, swaying from side to side. “That’s not what she wants.”

Ruby’s brow knitted together in her own confusion. “Then what does she want?”

“An Alpha.” Graham didn’t quite believe his own words but they fell from his mouth before his brain had time to stop them.

“An Alpha?” Ruby parroted.

Graham nodded. “With a very specific set of attributes.” He turned from her, a heavy sigh blowing past his lips as he contemplated his wife’s words. They were not unreasonable. Graham knew a lot of people, and his family had access to a fuck ton of Alphas because of, you know, all of them coming of age except him. Maybe Emma had already met this specific Alpha, maybe at one of his family parties. No. She wouldn’t be so shy. If there was one thing Graham knew about Emma, it was that she got what she wanted, especially if it hurt her husband. “I mean, it’s imposs-”

“Leave it with me,” Ruby interjected quickly and Graham gave her a questioning look. “What?” She smirked, sauntering over to him. “I know people and I’m very resourceful.”

“Mmmm,” Graham hummed as she pressed her body against his. “Yes, you are.”

Ruby glowed under his praise, a slight blush creeping across her cheeks. The tone of Graham’s voice made her skin come alive, dark and demanding, just like the colour of his eyes that had turned to a stormy grey. Ruby licked her lips, biting her bottom one with a playfully coy pout. “Does my Alpha approve?” She smiled sweetly, her hand finding the front of his pants and rubbing at his hardening length inside.

Graham loved it when she stroked his ego, amongst other things, the title from her lips fake but no less arousing. He growled, pulling her even harder to his body with a force that made her squeak excitedly for what was to come.

#A/B/O #a/b/o dynamics #alpha!killian #emma swan #killian jones #liam jones #will scarlet #ruby lucas #graham humbert #omegaverse #the contract #ch 1 #cs fic #cs au #emma is married to someone else #its complicated

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Think Again (When you Stop Freaking Out) - Pt.5

Fix It

Pairing: None Word count: 2673

Warnings: language, hella lot confusion, attempt at humour... irony and sass? ;)

Summary: Identity reveal and the arrival of the God of Thunder; because there isn’t enough peop- creatures in the mix, is there?

Story Masterlist

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“You’re Daredevil.”

“Yes,” Matt repeated for the fourth time, slightly annoyed at Stark asking him that question over and over.

“That guy running around Manhattan in fetish gear of Satan?”

“It’s not-“ “Yes,” Foggy said at the same time and it would be hilarious if Matt wasn’t double offended at his friend sharing the billionaire’s opinion. Surely the suit of armour wasn’t that bad? It protected him! …better than the old one, anyway.

“Who’s Daredevil?” Steve asked in Matt’s voice and it was just ridiculous, the man himself asking the question.

“Well, I would say you are now,” Tony sassed the captain and earned what looked like ‘I’m so done with you’ glare in return. Matt tried to ignore the expressiveness of his own blind eyes, but it was really hard. “He’s a vigilante operating in Hell’s Kitchen, wearing a kinky costume of the Devil. He’s formerly known as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.”

“And why am I only learning about him now?”

Matt gulped at the irritated tone, not happy at making Steve angry. Then again, he couldn’t say he wasn’t grateful for some of the Avengers not knowing about his alter ego activities. It was a pleasant surprise.

“Because you’re wearing his meat-suit.”

“Tony, I swear to God-“

“Blasphemy,” Matt blurted out on instinct.

Bruce chuckled. “Oh, that is precious.”

“What is?” Foggy wondered, asking the question Matt wanted to.

“Ah, Steve is known for-“

“Don’t you dare-“ Steve warned him, in vain of course.

“-not being a fan of foul language. He once scolded Tony when he said ‘Shit’ during a mission. It was hilarious,” Bruce supplied helpfully, causing Steve groan. Matt’s lips twitched.

“Cool. Now when we have the whole secrecy thing out of the way, can we please focus on the fact these two are not themselves? I’d like my friend back,” Foggy grumbled, crossing his arms on his chest.

The bluntness made Matt smile; until he realized that the process of returning to his own body might be harder than it-… nope, it actually did look pretty complicated, it couldn’t possibly get more difficult. He sighed and mirrored Foggy’s posture.

“Oh, so we’re not talking about the fact that the blind dude claims to be a ninja? “ Tony Stark asked wryly, turning his palms towards the ceiling. “How the hell is he doing all the parkour shit? The punching? You know, everything?”

“Captain Rogers said it. Enhanced senses. I navigate like that. It’s very far from being able to see, but clearly it works. Can we please move on?” Matt answered, half-annoyed, half-irritated.

This was exactly what he hadn’t wanted to happen. He hated the fact itself that the Avengers knew who he was, let alone dealing with ableist comments and scientific questions.

No, thank you. I’ll walk myself out.

“Of course. We have bigger issues at hand,” the captain came to the rescue unexpectedly. Matt didn’t care why, if it was impatience, compassion, pity, or some weird sense of understanding; he was just grateful.

“Hey! I want to-“

“Thank you. Two nights back, I busted an arms deal,” Matt announced, cutting Stark off.

“I read about that,” he noted, not impressed, while Steve hummed in appreciation.

“Yeah. Well, there was one strange box. When I opened it and touched the thing inside, it disappeared. Just… vaporized, into thin air. My best guess? That’s-“

“-the source,” Steve finished. “And it just disappeared?”

“Well, I couldn’t see anything, but… I couldn’t touch it again, sense it anyhow. It was just gone.”

“That’s kinda weird. Why didn’t you tell me that?” Foggy demanded, sounding wounded.

Matt gave him a look that spoke thousands of words he hoped. “You never want to hear about that.”

Foggy only thought for a second before pouting. “That’s… not wrong. Okay, fair, moving on.”

“It’s the same night we picked up the signal for the first time and it only has been growing stronger, leading us straight to the artefact,” Bruce stated, clearly only for Matt’s and Foggy’s sake.

Well. That was not concerning at all.

“So…?” Foggy pried, not sure what it meant. Matt was glad he didn’t have to be the one to ask.

“Well, we can try what you’ve suggested. We can touch it again – we still have it here, the thing I touched at least,” Steve announced with a shrug.

Matt gulped. He had a feeling it couldn’t be that easy.

He wasn’t wrong.

He sensed the phantom of the energy he had felt that night radiating from the item, almost afraid to touch the artefact so it wouldn’t blow up, but when he did, nothing happened. Neither when Steve tried. They touched it at the same time even, but it did nothing.

“Great. Now what?” Tony demanded, slightly irritated.

The answer came in a form of a clap of thunder.

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Back in his mind, Steve was aware that Thor arrived. But the rest of his body didn’t like the sound of it – the terrible noise rattled in his bones, his ears feeling like they might actually bleed. The usually subtle tremble of the walls almost knocked him off balance and his palms went to cover his ears. He subconsciously crouched, a brief memory of being in a battlefield washing over him.

A split second later, the vibrations stopped. While Steve could still feel and hear the echo, he forced himself to breathe and listen in, knowing that the more he would let in, the faster he would calm down; the easier the reality would reach him.

It’s just Thor. A friend.

“What on Earth was that?!” Foggy complained and with slight amusement Steve couldn’t really indulge, the captain found him by Tony Stark’s side as if he was seeking protection.

“That would be Thor,” Bruce informed him swiftly, already telling Friday to send the god of thunder their way.

“As in the… the guy with the hammer. The god?”

“Yes, Nelson. But he’s more of an alien than god,” Tony hummed, manoeuvring his body from the lawyer’s half-hearted grip.

With several deep breaths, Steve found himself relax. There was definitely no danger here. None of these people would harm him or anyone else, none of them posed a treat – no need to be alert. Just calm down.

Except Steve sensed Thor coming. He could sense the vibrations of the floor as Thor’s heavy boots were falling on it, the shuffle of his armour and most importantly, the air of danger around him. It felt as if the air was sparkling with electricity, prickles and lightning, almost assaulting the space.

Steve wasn’t afraid of Thor – but he appreciated the majesty and the power of the god/alien more than ever.

The door slid open, revealing the Asgardian in all his glory – or Steve supposed – and he marched in hurriedly.

“Holy shit,” Foggy breathed out, his and Matt’s hearts speeding up. Hell, even the strange device in Tony’s chest sounded differently.

“Thor,” Steve greeted him simultaneously with Bruce only to realize that he was not in his own body and Thor had no clue who he was.

Which led him to a simple question. Was here a connection between this whole ‘I woke up in someone else’s body’ thing and Thor’s appearance? Steve had a feeling it did.

“I come bearing unpleasant tiding. An Asgardian artefact has been activated on Earth-“

Oh. Now that would make sense.

“Hello to you too, Drapes,” Tony snarked, giving the god a pause in both speech and step. ”And, you think?”

“My apologies. Hello, Stark. Doctor Banner. Captain. …humans.”

Foggy choked on air, while Matt kept his composure despite the tension in his muscles. Steve cleared his throat as the god had been turned to his original body when greeting him.

“Hi, Thor. Would the artefact happen to cause… I don’t know, exchange of bodies and minds?” Steve asked blatantly, not sure how to phrase it better.

He could immediately feel the air shift as the Asgardian turned to him.

“How would you know that, mortal?” Thor demanded, half-curious, half-threatening.

This time Matt spoke up. “Because he’s Captain Rogers. I’m Matt Murdock.”

Thor’s head snapped to Steve’s actual voice and then back. “Oh.”

“Yeah, we know. I guess you see how that’s a problem?” Tony hummed, the smartass he was.

“Yes.”

There was a short silence, interrupted but Tony’s impatient voice; Steve had a feeling Foggy would have beaten him to it if he hadn’t been overtaken by a respectful awe and… fear.

“Good, care to elaborate? What is this artefact and how do we reverse its effect for instance?”

Thor seemed somewhat sheepish, but his voice held great confidence.

“The artefact is my brother’s doing-“

“Of course it is…”

“-and it is meant as a jest. If you touch the artefact, its other half activates and lures another being to itself. When touched as well, the spirits shall exchange their hosts.”

“Alright. So it’s a very advanced prank. How do we reverse it?” Tony asked the burning question.

Thor shook his head. “You do not.”

“WHAT?!” sounded unison from all presents minus the god, shock immediately falling on the room.

Steve’s heart positively stopped – both his own and the body’s he was occupying now.

‘You do not?’ So we stay like this forever?! No!

That was not an option! Steve was Steve and Matt was Matt and they both had duties, they both had their place in the world, they both had their life and in their current situation, there was no way they could just deal with switched bodies! Steve couldn’t rush into battle blind with his other senses exploding and Matt sure as hell couldn’t just walk into a courtroom as Steve Rogers to defence!

Not to mention Matt was running around like a vigilante, which… yeah, Steve had still several questions about that dubious activity – not that he would hold it against Matt. Steve of all people knew that sometimes rules and laws stood in the path of justice, as much as he hated it.

It was kinda funny though. A vigilante. An outlaw. And a lawyer. If the situation was less dreadful, Steve might even appreciate the irony, but that was not the time and if Steve was about to be stuck in Matt’s body forever, he everything but appreciated it.

“You’re telling me they can’t go back to their own bodies?” Bruce clarified, sounding seriously on edge. Or Steve thought so – he was too busy freaking out on the inside and maybe a little on the outside too.

Yeah, Steve and Matt were definitely hyperventilating now.

And Thor laughed. To Steve, it sounded like a horse neighing right in his ear.

“Oh no, the effects wear off on their own. There is nothing you can do to speed it up, though.”

Collective sigh of relief was the answer. Oh thank god. Thank God.

“Way to give me a heart-attack, pal,” Foggy huffed, his hand on his chest as if he wanted to make sure his heart was still beating in his ribcage. Steve would gladly confirm it was. He could hear it, which he didn’t find less insane than an hour ago.

Speaking of hearing heartbeats, Thor’s actually did sound like a series of claps of thunder.

“And you would be?”

“Foggy Nelson. Matt’s best friend,” the lawyer hurried, offering his hand to shake. Steve prayed the god didn’t crush the poor man’s fingers. Matt’s/Steve’s hand followed as he introduced himself again, but Thor’s attention returned to the other man.

“Do you control the fog here on Midgard?” Thor asked, intrigued.

Steve’s lips twitched, few silent snorts echoing in the room. Could anyone blame Thor for coming to that assumption?

Steve could hear blood rushing to Foggy’s face in embarrassment. The longer Steve spent in the man’s presence, the harder it was to resist the urge to call him Foggy; the nickname suited him, expressing his kind – and perhaps a bit goofy – nature perfectly.

“Uhm… no?”

“Ah. That is confusing.”

Tony clapped his hands twice. “Great. Now what do we do? How long until they… go back?”

Steve believed that the strange movement he registered coming from Thor was a shrug of his monstrous shoulders.

“…well, it might take a while,” the alien admitted slowly, sounding as if he was charming a carefree smile. “But do not be alarmed, it is harmless.”

“Harmless? Really?! He’s blind, Thor! He’s literally blind!” Tony pointed at Matt’s Murdock body impudently. “Imagine someone would attack him now – either his own body or the one he-- wears!.”

The face Steve wore automatically twisted in a grimace at Tony’s phrasing.

“Yeah, I second that! What if it wasn’t me coming to the apartment in the morning?”

“Oh,” Thor hesitated. “That might be inconvenient. I assume it is not customary to train blind men in combat on Earth then?”

Matt took a deep breath, his pulse wavering. For some reason, Steve’s skin cringed. Strange. Another involuntary reaction of Matt’s body to the discussed subject?

“In this particular case…” Steve heard his own voice whispered by Matt, drawing a tiny whimper from Foggy.

It took that tiny sound for Steve to understand this was possibly the worst topic ever, even though he had no idea what the story behind their reaction was. He cleared his throat.

“Well, clearly Matt’s capable of protecting himself. But yeah, I would appreciate being back to myself too.”

Matt took another steadying breath, trying to remain at least a bit calm. “Thor, how long is a while?”

“I am sorry, my friend, I do not know.”

“I’m… not your friend, he is,” Matt noted with a sigh, subtly pointing towards Steve in Matt Murdock’s body. Only to be rewarded with Thor’s confused deep voice.

“Of course you are. I am a friend to all humanity.”

“That’s very godlike of you,” Foggy remarked. Steve (and probably Matt) shot him a glare. “What, that was funny! And true!”

Bruce cleared his throat, supressing laugh. “Okay. What do we do in the meantime? I don’t think either of you should leave – mainly because of the security risks.”

Steve gulped. He would fight until his/Matt’s last breath if it came to it, but he couldn’t argue with that logic.

“Alright. I don’t have anywhere else to be for now.”

“Well…” Matt considered slowly, turning to his law partner.

“Say no more, Murdock. As much as I would love to see our clients’ faces when it would be Captain America greeting them in the office, I do have some common sense left. I’ll just call Karen to close the office for the day, okay?”

“Thanks, Fog. But… what if it’s… more than a day? What if-“

“Forget ‘what if’s for now. I got your back, buddy.” Foggy patted Matt’s bicep in a friendly manner and then retreated his hand quickly as if he got burnt. “Sorry, Captain! Didn’t mean to grope!”

The weird sound that followed was hard to identify – but it Steve could take a guess, it was Tony snorting the water he had helped himself with through his nose.

Steve’s lips twitched in amusement at Foggy’s embarrassment.

“It’s alright. I know this is all very… confusing.”

“Yeah, no kidding. And I’m just the one watching…” Foggy murmured under his breath, exiting the room to make a phone call. “Yeah, Karen, it’s me, look, we have a small issue with Matt waking up in Steve Rogers’ body, yes, that Steve Rogers aka Captain America’s body-“

“…what?”

Steve smiled for himself, trying to tune out the conversation outside of the room. He had a distant feeling that this Karen woman (based on the fact she apparently also knew about Matt Murdock’s double life) was an exceptional employer and she definitely deserved a raise for dealing with… well, unnatural occurrences.

“So now we just sit and wait?” Matt stated more than asked.

Steve sighed.

Yeah, it looked like it. Steve hated sitting and waiting. But right now, it was apparently the only option. Unless they wanted to make this even messier and hurt someone – starting with themselves.

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Part 6

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Tags: @mermaidxatxheart @igobypoet

#marvel #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #mcu #steve rogers #matt murdock #captain america #daredevil #bodyswap #steve rogers fic #matt murdock fic #think again when you stop freaking out #anika ann

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