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tenspontaneite · 3 years

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Pigment

Callum discovers the wonders of elven pigments.

(The first of two pieces written for @falling-for-you-a-rayllum-zine, which is now having leftover sales!) ('Future' chapter; takes place post-s3, naturally not canon to TTM. Oneshot. 4k. Ao3 link)

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The first time Callum was introduced to the concept of elvish pigment was, ostensibly, by Rayla’s skin. He’d noted the marks under her eyes in the same hurried, panicked glance that picked out the horns, the ears, the alarming points of the weapons in her hands…

He wondered about them, of course, but in the first frantic two weeks of their acquaintance, there really wasn’t a lot of time to ask about it. Not until the Storm Spire, when he sat mulling over the flight-runes on Ibis’ wings, and how they might have come to be there.

“…So, I’ve been wondering,” he said to Rayla, apropos of nothing, while she was tending to her equipment. She looked up as he began to speak, the armour momentarily forgotten. “Those…markings you have, the ones on your face—and the ones a lot of other elves seem to have—what are they?”

She blinked, and for a moment, her fingers rose to her face, as though only just remembering the marks were there. “They’re pigment?” She offered, squinting at him a little. “…Is that a trick question, or…?”

“No, really, I have no idea what they are.” He assured her. “I was never sure if they were tattoos, or…weird elf birthmarks, or something. But—pigment? Does that mean it’s like…ink? How do you get them on?” Tattoos, as he understood them, involved needles. He hoped elven pigment didn’t involve needles.

For a moment, Rayla stared at him, looking decidedly nonplussed. “You…paint them on?” She offered, still thrown. “With a brush? And then they stay there for a while. Half a year, maybe. Depends on how good your pigment is.”

“Huh.” Callum mused. For a moment, he was tempted to press further, to ask about the intricacies of various pigments and the application thereof…but he’d been asking for a reason, after all, and his attention remained there.

If they were painted on...then that boded well. That meant that it was something that he could do, if only for the presence of the pigment and a brush.

It wasn’t much later that, after a guilty rummage through Ibis’ things, Callum stood at the pinnacle of the Storm Spire and painted flight-runes onto his skin. That was his first true introduction to the pigments of elves. As an artist, he couldn’t help but marvel at it. The pigment was white, yet it entirely obscured the darker colour of his skin with only a single, easy stroke. Only one layer, and it was solidly opaque. It glowed a little—then settled utterly dry, clean, and steadfast upon his arms.

For a moment, he spared a thought to wish that his paints could be like that. He’d dabbled in every form of art medium he could get his hands on over the years, and he’d never worked with any pigment like this one. It would be gorgeous to paint with.

But then he was too distracted trying to fly to think about art any longer, and that was the last mind he paid to pigment for a while.

After the battle of the Storm Spire, he prevailed upon the use of a finer, neater brush, and filled in the edges of his flight-runes until the shape of each was perfect and immaculate. Ibis watched him with a critical eye, and nodded.

“The spell will come easier if the runes are tidy.” He said, approvingly. “You’ll need to re-apply the pigment every three months. Any longer than that and it will begin to fade—which isn’t so great an issue when the marks are merely aesthetic, but with runes…”

“I can see how you wouldn’t want these fading, no.” Callum said ruefully, and accepted the little bottle of white pigment with a murmur of gratitude. He tucked it into his things for the next time he and Rayla went travelling, and she smiled at him.

“Packing your pigment for the journey, Callum?” She remarked, a little teasing. “Think we’ll be gone that long, do you?”

He laughed, and shrugged, glancing down at one of his arms. “I guess it’s just in case, really. I shouldn’t need to touch them up again for months, but…you never know. Wouldn’t want to end up flightless for some reason.”

“I suppose you are a tad obsessed with flying, now.” She agreed, as if she wasn’t always finding excuses for him to sweep her up into the sky for another flight. She reached out, absentminded, and trailed a fingertip around the curve of one rune with the trace of a smile on her lips. “Still, if it came down to it, you could always borrow mine.”

He glanced up at her, startled. “Your pigment?” He checked, eyes settling on the marks beneath her eyes. “I didn’t know you had any with you.”

“I don’t. Need to pick some up from Ethari, when we visit.” She said, succinctly, and he supposed that was another reason for their stopping at Silvergrove on the way to Katolis. How long had it been, since she last refreshed her pigment? Did she need to do it again soon, or was she just planning for the future?

He stared at her for a moment, contemplating her, feeling his heart flutter with a familiar warmth. If her markings had faded at all since he met her, it wasn’t immediately obvious to him. They looked as clear and lovely as ever; a natural part of her face. It was strange to think of what she might look like without them.

Rayla eyed him, when he’d stared a little too long and smiled a little too softly, and huffed at him. Her cheeks pinked a little, the colour darkening her markings. “What are you looking at?” She muttered to him, a touch self-conscious. Rather than look away, he smiled at her all the wider, and captured the hand she had on his arm to plant a kiss on its fingers.

“You.” He said, very contentedly, and watched with pleasure as her face coloured and her fingers twitched beneath his touch.

“Dumb prince.” She sighed, a smile spreading unbidden and affectionate across her lips. It was beautiful, so of course he kissed that too. He felt the widening of that smile against his mouth, and lingered there for as long as she’d let him before she prodded him away to finish packing.

She gave his arms a strange look, though, when he next bared them. Appraising, almost, with a narrow-eyed sort of consideration. “…What?” He asked, when she’d been staring long enough to warrant the question.

“Your runes are…neat.” She said, tone as considering as her eyes. “Tidy.” She shook her head then. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, with all the art you do. Of course you’d be good at painting skin-pigment.” He eyed her, because there was clearly more to this observation than just surprise that he’d managed some tidy brushwork, but all she said when he asked was “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

He didn’t believe her, obviously. Not with the way she kept shooting half-considering looks at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. But he didn’t press her, and she didn’t mention whatever was on her mind. In time, he forgot about it.

Until they were back in the Silvergrove.

Rayla asked Ethari, and within the minute he was pressing a small dark bottle and a fine brush into her hands. “I did wonder if you needed any.” He said, as she turned the glass over and the indigo liquid swirled around within. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” She agreed, pocketing the vial and the brush both. “It’ll start fading soon. So…thanks.”

He nodded at her, all warmth and familial affection. “Not a problem. Did you want me to help with that while you’re here?”

She hesitated, then, and for a moment…for a moment, her eyes slid to Callum, who’d been watching them idly over the top of his sketchbook. “…I’m good.” She settled on, eventually, and if there was anything particularly knowing about Ethari’s smile then, Callum didn’t notice it.

He kept drawing, content in that she was content, and happy to be in her home under happier circumstances than the first.

But then, later: “I wanted to ask you something.” Rayla said, abruptly, when it was just the two of them in what was ostensibly her childhood room. It had been adapted over the years for a growing teenager, but still maintained hints of the past lingering within its walls. He spotted a child’s doodle of a shadowpaw etched into the grain of the dresser, and suppressed a smile.

He turned to her, eyes crinkling a little at the thought of a tiny rambunctious Rayla who scrawled over the walls and furniture. “Yeah?” He responded, a little distracted, as he wondered if there were perhaps any baby or childhood portraits in residence somewhere. He should ask Ethari. If there were any to be found, surely he’d know.

That distraction fled the instant she spoke. “Will you paint my pigment for me?” She asked, directly, and his eyes shot to her at once. At his expression, she added, “You don’t have to. But it needs doing soon, or it’ll start fading faster.” She paused, looking a little more tentative as she said, “If you don’t want to, Ethari can—”

“No,” he blurted, clumsy, then scrambled to say “I mean, yes, I mean—I mean I’d like that. To help. To, er. Paint your pigment on.” He felt his face heat, in part from how he’d stumbled over the words, and in part because…well. He might not know a lot about elven pigment and elven markings, but he was fairly sure that they were…personal. That painting someone’s markings for them was personal.

His reply settled her, and she huffed, lips twitching with familiar fondness. “…Good.” She said, in the end, and surprised him by leaving the room without further word. He blinked after her, uncertain whether he was supposed to follow, but then she returned a bare few moments later with a towel and a wet cloth that she was already wiping her face with.

“Er,” he offered, perplexed, as she dried her face off and set the towel and cloth both down. He didn’t understand until she plucked the bottle of pigment from her dresser and pressed it into his fingers. “Now?” His voice was something of a squeak, and she rolled her eyes.

“When else?” She asked, procuring a brush and giving him that too. “We’re setting off tomorrow. Now’s best.” She paused. “…That okay?”

Her voice had gone tentative again, and his chin jerked up, fingers tightening around brush and bottle as if worried she’d take them away. “No, yeah, it’s okay,” he assured her, and then laughed, a little nervously. “I just…wasn’t expecting it.” He cleared his throat, and took a closer look at the brush. It was like the one he’d filled his own runes in with, fine and delicate and short enough that it didn’t seem liable to flick off in weird directions. “…So I just…paint this onto your face?” He asked, after a moment, feeling his cheeks heat for reasons he couldn’t quite put to words. It felt special, in a way that was hard to describe.

“That is how it works.” Rayla answered, dryly, and then tugged him by the rune-adorned arm until they were both sitting on the floor, towel and cloth at close remove. He supposed those were there in case of spillages, though considering how quickly elvish pigment took hold, he wasn’t sure how much good a towel would do. He wondered if there was some sort of solvent, magical or otherwise, that was up to the task of dissolving pigment like this.

“What happens if I make a mistake when I’m putting your pigment on?” He wondered aloud, only half directing it at her. “Do you just have to walk around with it on your face for months?”

She snorted, and shook her head. “Nah. There’s pigment-remover for that.”

A little tension eased from his shoulders. “Oh, good,” he sighed, relieved. “That’s much less pressure, then.”

She rolled her eyes again. “Just paint my face, Callum.”

He chuckled at her, a little nervously, and uncapped the bottle. The liquid inside was so much darker than the pigment he used, and bizarrely true in its colour. Usually, inks tended to look much darker than their actual colour when they were in the bottle. It was only when you painted them onto a page that you could see how light and bright they were. This, though…it was just solid, liquid indigo, as if someone had distilled the concept of the colour of Rayla’s markings and spilled it into a bottle. “This would be amazing to paint with.” He murmured, somewhat distractedly, watching the pigment shimmer in the low light.

Rayla didn’t answer that, which was unusual enough that his eyes darted to hers, and found her looking strangely thoughtful. She shook her head, though, as if to dispel some thought, and started giving the pigment bottle and the brush some very meaningful looks. He laughed, softly, and obeyed the unspoken command; he dipped the brush in, drained off the excess, and then lifted it. It was dyed the same solid, true indigo—a colour that he was about to put onto her skin.

It hit him then, or at least started to; he looked between the brush and her face and felt his breath catch at—at something. It felt a little like panic, a little like wonder, a little like the breathless infatuation she always managed to inspire in him. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do with it, and just…stared at her, heart beating wildly at—at the trust, and the honour, that he couldn’t help but feel she’d given him.

She was looking impatient by the time he finally moved, and likely would have spoken if not for how he shuffled closer, until their knees were touching. Her mouth closed, watching him, eyes settling on his own as he reached towards her. His fingers brushed the edge of her jaw, feather-light, as tentative as he always was when he remembered that someone as amazing as her had deigned to be with someone like him. His breath caught in his throat as he lifted his hand, thumb tracing tenderly along a cheek that warmed beneath his touch.

He cupped her face in his hand, then, unable to resist the impulse, and she leaned into it without even thinking. Her eyes fell half-lidded for a moment, the smallest smile twitching at the edges of her lips, and he wanted to kiss her. That wasn’t what he was supposed to be doing, but—but he wanted to, and she was smiling at him, and her eyes were soft and warm in the quiet and low light of the room—

So, he kissed her, and she huffed an amused breath against his lips, lifting a hand to trail affectionate fingers along the side of his neck. “This doesn’t feel like face-painting to me.” She murmured to him, fond and teasing at once, and he wouldn’t have been surprised for a moment if his heart stopped beating for the strength of how much he loved her. “Weren’t you supposed to be doing something?”

He laughed, a little breathless, and the warmth of it spilled between them. “Yeah.” He agreed, helplessly, drawing back with her fingers still warm on his neck and his hand still cupped to her cheek, and paused for a moment to treasure the sight of her looking at him like that. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was that she loved him. He didn’t think he’d ever believe it. “I’ll just…get on that.”

She withdrew her hand, and watched him. Waiting.

His fingers shifted on Rayla’s face, moving to press his thumb gently to the side of the marking under her left eye. Pulling at the skin, ever-so-slightly, to allow for painting it more evenly. Another urge struck him, but this time he suppressed it. He could kiss her cheek-markings later. For now, he was supposed to be painting them. And so…

With an almost reverent care, he lifted the tip of the brush to her face, hovering just above her skin with a heady mixture of breathless wonder and breathless trepidation. He exhaled, softly, and felt her eyes upon him. Watching, warm and fond and expectant.

Finally, with the utmost care, he touched the brush to her skin.

She flinched a little at the touch so close beneath her eye, but he’d expected that. He held the brush steady and traced a slow, perfect line down her cheek, along the edge of the extant marking, like a dark border to the fading colour. And it was fading; he could see that now. It wasn’t noticeable on its own, but with the contrast of the fresh pigment beside it, it was fully obvious that the old colour had begun waning.

With the brush to her skin, Callum’s hushed awe fell in step with the breadth of his skill and practice. He’d never put brush to someone else’s skin before, but that did nothing to diminish his skill. He knew brushwork, and he knew the delicacy needed for fine detail, and…and, in the end, this was easy. Just tracing around an existing marking, and filling it in. There could be nothing easier.

He drew the pigment across her skin in smooth, effortless lines. He traced the borders of her marking and then filled it in, up until when the brush began to run empty, and he had to go for the bottle again. The colour settled fast, immediate, and perfect upon her face, with that gorgeous fidelity he’d never seen in any other pigment or paint or ink in all his life. It was a pleasure to use it, and all the more that he was using it for this.

Callum fell half into an artist’s trance for the remaining minutes it took to finish. He filled the left marking in, stark and perfect, then shifted his fingers tenderly to her other cheek, and repeated the process. When he was done, there was nothing but perfect lines and perfect colour upon a face that he loved.

He smiled, small and satisfied, and set the brush aside. “Done.” He murmured, and leaned forward to press his forehead to hers, cradling her face in both hands. It felt strange, to risk touching her skin when he’d only just painted it. But that was the wonder of elvish pigment; it dried the moment it was applied, and permitted no possibility of smearing whatsoever. He stroked his thumbs beneath her eyes and felt more happy, more tender, more loving than he’d ever known. “Perfect.” He murmured, reverential, the words meant for more than the pigment.

Her eyes blinked across from his own, and he loved them. Loved her. She brought her arms up and drew him closer, one hand splayed on the back of his neck. “Maybe I’ll have you do me some new markings, someday.” She murmured to him, in the end, a small and secret smile at the edges of her lips. He stared at her, spellbound, for the three beats of his heart that lingered between her smile and her movement. She leaned in and closed the meagre distance between them, the kiss soft and sweet and all the more perfect for how dearly he adored her.

He imagined, for a second, drawing that ink-brush again along her skin. Imagined it between her fingers, along her arms, casting indigo whorls about her shoulders. He thought of new pigment, new markings, and the sheer delight of being the one who got to put them there. His heart fluttered. “I’d like that.” He said, against her lips, and she kissed him again.

“Good.” When she drew back, the markings were still stark and beautiful beneath her eyes, where he’d painted them. The sight of them left him a little breathless, even now, unable to shake the sense that he’d been afforded an enormous privilege, a gift of worth beyond measure.

Someday, he hoped, she’d afford him that gift again.

Callum saw the fruits of Rayla’s thoughtful consideration and furtive glances a while later, when July came around and he was startled from thinking about her birthday by the arrival of his own. She cornered him with palpable satisfaction, and gave him a parcel that she very clearly expected him to be delighted with.

She wasn’t wrong.

He unveiled an array of small bottles; thirty-six hues of true and perfect elvish pigment, distilled for the purpose of painting. He beheld them all with a nearly breathless joy, finding the little parcel of pigment-brushes, the bottle of solvent, the masking-fluid….

“You like it?” Rayla asked, with a broad and decidedly smug smile on her face. She clearly already knew the answer.

“I love it.” He pronounced, and set at once to trying them out.

The very first thing he painted was her. She watched him, and huffed as she saw the familiar lines of her own face taking form on the page, pleased and exasperated all at once. She never did seem to understand why he drew her so often, but that was okay. And, with these pigments…

The colours were spectacular, brighter and more intensely pigmented than anything he’d ever seen. He found himself utterly swept away in the delight of using them, and hours later, emerged from his artist’s trance to the completed work: Rayla in the early evening of the Silvergrove, her hair and eyes gleaming softly with the gentle illumination of the lights and moon-moths around her. It was one of the finest works he’d ever produced, and at the sight of it, he concluded the process of falling helplessly in love with Elvish pigment.

Rayla, for all her embarrassment at being painted, seemed to approve of it too. “You picked that up quickly.” She noted, handling the edges of the thick paper with the delicate care it deserved.

“These pigments are my new favourite thing.” He declared, arranging the bottles a little more tidily beside him. His eyes rested, a little consideringly, over another wide sheet of paper. He stared at it for a long while, growing quiet and solemn, and eventually reached out to take it.

He had his birthday traditions to observe, after all.

The second thing he painted with the elven pigments was his family portrait, atrophied and truncated by tragedy. There was no Sarai there, and hadn’t been for years. No Harrow, and that was a new pain. He felt the ghosts of their absence in the lines he didn’t draw, in the colours that never fell upon the page, in the voids of grief that they left in his life.

But there were new faces now, too.

With quiet, exquisite care, he drew himself. He drew Ezran, older now, wearing a mantle that had come for him too soon. He drew Bait in his brother’s arms. He drew Aunt Amaya. And, tenderly: he drew Azymondias and Rayla. The outlines took form, and as the hours passed, elvish pigment filled them in.

In the end, he had his family portrait again. Changed, and echoing with its empty spaces, but…

Quiet, from her place beside him, Rayla slipped her hand into his own.

“Come on,” She said, with the small but tender smile that he loved. “Zym has a present for you too. He’ll be disappointed if he can’t give it to you today.”

Callum exhaled, and let her fingers tighten around his, pulling him up to his feet beside her. His own smile slipped onto his lips. “Then we’d better go find him.” He said, casting a last glance at the portrait on the table. He didn’t resist it when she tugged on his fingers, pulling him away.

With a strange, quiet serenity, he followed her out into the light.

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end.

This is word-for-word what was published in the Rayllum zine 'Falling For You'; I have made no changes. It’s the shorter and less impressive of my two pieces, but I hope you liked it anyway.

I’ll potentially be making some minor edits to the second piece before posting, given I intend to continue it - in fact, I’ve already got like three extra chapters of it written, though small ones. I’m considerably more excited about that one, so stay tuned!

#rayllum #rayllumzine #tdp fic #tdp callum #tdp rayla #seriously though the soulmate au piece is good times #looking forward to everyone being able to read it #had to do word count negotiations to get a piece that long into the zine lol #the mods kindly granted me a couple extra ks #and then I decided to reduce my word limit for this first piece by 1k so I could shift that to the more exciting piece too #it deserved every word I could give it #this one is nice don't get me wrong #i'm just not made for short decisive pieces #and the soulmate AU's ending is VERY MUCH open-ended #and inviting follow-up #which I then wrote and shared with my closest cohorts #awaiting the day it could be published #looking forward to seeing the comments on my baby

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imnotoverlyobsessive · 3 years

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Mabel’s All-in-One Guide to Being a Shooting Star: How to Avoid Being Caught and Other Tips You Should Know

Chapter Three: Not Dipper

A big ol thank you to @edward-or-ford and @pacific-ship!

He’s so tall and handsome as hell; he’s so bad but he does it so well. I can see the end as it begins.- Taylor Swift, Wildest Dreams

Warmth.

Warmth and safety.

Those were the first things Mabel noticed when she woke up for those few brief seconds, the first things she could recall feeling. She was too tired to open her eyes, and her head was freaking killing her, but there was warmth seeping into her skin like melted butter into bread, and something smelled remarkably good.

It wasn’t a familiar smell, not by any means, but she found she liked it quite a lot. She turned her face towards the warm, smooth fabric the scent was coming from, nuzzling it happily with a small smile.

It didn’t help her killer headache, of course, but her bed or whatever it was, it smelled goooooood, and she was all for it.

She felt as if nothing could touch her, there in that little bubble of delicious-smelling warmth, and she wondered idly if Dipper was around, because she only ever felt so happy and safe when she was with him.

When had she seen him last, again? Mabel couldn’t remember. She couldn’t remember anything, really.

Oh well. Whatever. She was warm. She was safe. She was comfortable. She was happy. She smiled again, just a little bit, as her thoughts faded when she lost consciousness again.

She would not be so content when she woke the second time.

———————————————————————

There was a throbbing in her skull. An intense kind, particularly in her temples and behind her eyes. It hurt worse when she opened her eyes, and it took them several rapid blinks to adjust to lights that were actually quite dim, but with her concussion headache, they seemed ridiculously bright against the blue ceiling.

“Yeesh,” she muttered, sitting up on the… was that a chaise? Yup, okay, that was definitely a chaise. She’d never even seen one in person; those things were for fancy people. Mabel had always been many things, but fancy most certainly wasn’t one of them.

Anyway, she was sitting up on the super-duper fancy chaise, her hands supporting her. “My head, what in the…” Dammit, her wrists and arms hurt, too, those were, ugh, were those rope marks? They sure looked like rope marks.

There was a sound nearby when she spoke loud enough to be heard, but Mabel’s head was throbbing so loudly in her ears that she couldn’t hear much of anything. She massaged the skin on her wrists, trying to get the soreness to dissipate. It didn’t.

And then the whole thing came rushing back.

Shit. Was she married to the gnomes now? Was that gonna be her life? No, no, it was fine, gnome marriage wasn’t legally binding, she didn’t think, and even if it was, it wasn’t legal for somebody to marry a whole bunch of people at once, and it definitely wasn’t legal for that somebody to be an unwilling participant. Therefore, any marriage contracts they may or may not have drawn up were null and void, legally speaking. Which meant she needed to escape. Which meant she needed to figure out where she was.

Wait, what about the blood-gnome? What was up with that? Or, shit, the floating glow-dude! What the heckity hecking heckfire was going on with that shiz?

Suddenly, out of nowhere (or perhaps not truly nowhere; she just hadn’t examined where she was just yet, as she hadn’t looked up), a pair of arms wrapped around her, and her head was squished against a very masculine, yummy-smelling (the same smell as before, actually! What a lovely coincidence!) chest. Mr. Hugglebus reached up and threaded his fingers through Mabel’s hair, holding her head against him.

“Mabel,” a voice whispered, like its owner couldn’t believe he was getting to say her name. It was familiar, but also very much not, and Mabel was, like, off-the-charts levels of confuzzled. “Mabel,” the voice said again. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

It was hard to think with the pounding in her ears, but she did her best to ignore it.

She had bigger things to deal with than a headache, no matter how nasty it was.

“Wh- whoa there, friend,” Mabel said shakily, putting her hand on his chest and pushing away from him lightly. Mr. Hugglebus pulled back enough for Mabel to get a proper look at him, and…

Wait.

What?

“Dipper?” she gasped. He said nothing. “What is up with your hair, man?” she laughed. “Or- or your getup, like! What? You goin’ to a fancy party or something? No, no, wait!” she was giggling, and it hurt her head, but it was just so goddamn good to see him she didn’t care. “Okay okay, I know! You’re doing, like, a knock-off impersonation of Gideon, right?” He furrowed his brow, annoyance filling his ice blue eyes.

But… wait. Ice blue eyes? Dipper has brown eyes. They were identical to hers. She knew this. She’d stared into those stupid-beautiful eyes of his a bazillion and one times. She knew her bro bro’s eyes, aight? She knew those suckers. This guy, though. This guy was different. Like. Different different.

“Are you… are you Dipper? ‘Cause like. The Dipster I know won’t even wear color contacts for cosplay purposes, and those eyes ain’t blue naturally, so…”

It was several moments before he finally spoke. He was gazing at her with this weirdly intense look in his eyes (holy crap, those eyes, they were so pretty, nobody’s eyes should be allowed to be that freakin’ blue) she’d never seen on anyone before.

“I’m not… your Dipper,” his emphasis the ‘your’ was strange, condescending, as if he loathed saying it.

She scooted away, her back hitting the arm of the chaise.

All she could think about was a gnome drenched in blood, babbling in terror before exploding violently.

”Then who are you?” she whispered, eyes wide.

He smiled, and not unkindly, either. It was… strange. It was a kind smile from someone who didn’t look like such things came to them naturally. It was nothing like her twin’s smile.

Nothing like it at all.

It did something to her insides. Something she didn’t understand. Something she didn’t know how to interpret or name.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, keeping his distance, his legs twitching as if he wanted to get closer to her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Okay,” she said, not believing him in the slightest. ‘Cause. Like. The blood-gnome. Had that been him? Had he done that? She hadn’t seen it, but in retrospect, it totally made sense for him to have done that somehow. “But who are you?” she asked again.

“I’m something of an… alternate version of the Dipper you know.” The more he spoke, the more she found his voice to be different and strange. Plus, he looked so similar to Dipper, but Mabel only ever saw her bro’s birthmark once in a blue moon. This guy had it front and center, and his hair was slicked back, and she lowkey wanted to touch it, just to see what it felt like. His voice was deeper than Dipper’s. More monotone, too. It was bizarre.

It was… it was attractive, is what it was. His look and attitude, the whole shebang, it was just insanely attractive. Wait, no, no! Mabel thought to herself. It’s cool, Mabel girl, you’re all good, everything’s a-okay, it’s just that he looks like your bro, alright? No big deal. Well, okay, you shouldn’t be having those kinds of thoughts about your bro, either, but we’re well past that.

“Alternate… version…?” Wait. Shit. Maybe he was… “Are you the anti-Dipper?” She whispered frantically, trying to back away more as if her back wasn’t already firmly pressed against the armrest. “There’s tons of different versions of me, I know that, but I’ve never seen another version of Dipper, and you look just freakin’ like him except for your whole… style and general demeanor, I guess, so-“ she was trying to get up, but holy hot pockets, that was some serious dizziness right there.

Moreover, was there another Mabel in this universe? She hadn’t seen another Mabel in years. It’d be… interesting to see one again. Wait, shit, if he was the anti-Dipper, there was the anti-Mabel somewhere around there, and Mabel was not at all confident she could currently best the anti-Mabel in a fight. And something told her the anti-Mabel wasn’t exactly one for fighting fair and waiting till she was ready. She wasn’t the meme-worth Inigo Montoya, and this wasn’t The Princess Bride.

Dammit.

Wait, he’d said he’d never expected to see her again. And she’d definitely never met him before, she would’ve remembered a fancy, older version of her bro, which could only mean he was talking about the other Mabel. Had something happened to her? Had she left, maybe?

“I’m not,” he cut in quickly, moving towards her slowly, like she was a feral cat ready to book it at any moment. “I’m not the… anti-Dipper, or whatever it was you said.”

She looked around. They appeared to be in some sort of dressing room. No, wait, it was Gideon’s dressing room! Except it wasn’t, because Not-Dipper was there, lounging on the ultra-fancy chaise as if he owned it, which he might very well have done, because Not-Dipper didn’t exactly look like he was a broke college student.

He looked like he used hundred dollar bills as tissues like Woody Harrelson in Zombieland.

Still very much fighting the urge to attempt to GTFO, as the kids say, Mabel turned back to him. “What are you, then?” He blinked for a moment, as if he were surprised, and then she belted out more questions. “What’s your name? How old are you? You don’t look like you’re the same age as me, which is weird if we’re kinda-sorta-pseudo-twins. Why am I here? Where even is here? How-“

“Okay, let’s do this properly, shall we?” He tilted his head when he spoke, the corners of his lips curling upwards in another one of those strange smiles that did something to Mabel’s insides. “One question at a time,” he said, holding up a long, slender finger. “You can ask me anything you want, and I promise to answer truthfully. However,” he crossed one leg over the other, his foot dangling off his knee, the arm closest to her draping casually over the back of the chaise, “for every question I answer, I get to ask one of you in return. You don’t have to answer me, of course, but if you choose not to, that’ll be the end of our little game,” he paused for a moment. “For the time being, at least. Sound fair?”

She nodded hesitantly. She could stop at any time, right?

“Go ahead, then,” he waved the hand that dangled haphazardly over the chaise.

“What’s your name?”

“Mason William Gleeful, but I’ve always been called Dipper,” he said easily, as if he’d been fully expecting that very question.

“Because of the birthmark, I assume,” Mabel was very careful not to phrase it as a question, not to raise the pitch in her voice at the end of her sentence. She didn’t know how he’d react if she asked two questions in a row.

“A fair assumption,” he agreed with a slight nod and another one of those smiles. Ugh. Could ya not, man? Like, for real, Mabel thought. His smile was most definitely not helping her nausea. “And your name? Your full name, if you would.”

“Oh, um,” was she seriously forgetting her own name? Jeez, Mabel, get it together, he’s not Dipper, get over it! “M- Mabel Caroline Pines,” she managed to stutter out.

“Pines, hm? Interesting. Alright then. Shall I go along with your other questions from before, as well?”

She shook her head. “Actually, I was wondering about your last name,” he raised his eyebrows at her and motioned for her to continue. “There’s a sort of… psychic, I guess is what you’d call him, in my universe, and he has that last name. Is that… I mean… we are in what looks like his dressing room, so…”

“I did shows here,” he said quietly, a strange look in his eye, as if he wasn’t seeing her despite looking right at her. “Once upon a time.”

“Oh. I see,” she squeaked out.

His gaze sharpened on her again, and he was moving closer to her, and Mabel tried to back up further, her sneakers scrambling against the fabric of the chaise. Eeek way too close way too close back the fudge up, man, what are you even-

“Why were you in his dressing room?” He was right in front of her face by that point, like waaaaaaay too close, ‘cause their noses were almost brushing and she could see each individual eyelash, and god his eyes were even more startlingly beautiful up close, and she wanted to reach up and touch-

No no no no, bad, bad Mabel, he’s not your Dipper, this is a different version! she told herself firmly. No touchy!

“We gave each other makeovers,” she said, trying very hard to keep her voice even. When he raised his eyebrows at her, she got mildly defensive. “I was twelve! He was… I dunno, ten or eleven! Jeez!” He chuckled at that, then leaned away from her, satisfied with her answer, she supposed, and resumed his previous position as if he’d never moved from it at all.

As if he hadn’t just sent a chill down her spine that was… not altogether unpleasant, which was significantly more concerning than it would’ve been if she’d hated every second he’d been near her.

She pursed her lips and put it from her mind. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-five,” he said easily. “And you?”

“Nineteen,” she told him quietly, surprised at his age. She glanced at the foot he’d balanced on his knee.

His shoes were fancy, too. Everything about him seemed to be. “Not what you were expecting, I see,” he observed from her expressions. Damn her and her expressive face!

“Well, it makes sense, because you certainly look older than… than my Dipper.” Her voice shook on the word ‘my’.

His hand clenched into a fist.

She didn’t know what to think of it. Was he angry, or did it mean nothing?

“But it also doesn’t make sense, because if it’s a parallel universe, we should be the same age, I would think.”

“Well, not necessarily,” Not-Dipper reasoned. “In some universes, time moves at different rates, from what I’ve gathered. In our case, it’s the same, but it seems I was born earlier. I was born in 1993, whereas you were born in…” he thought for a moment, tilting his head to the side. “1999.”

“Oh.” She’d never noticed that when interacting with other Mabels. Perhaps it was simply because she was too preoccupied with not dying. It had seemed rather urgent at the time.

“Indeed,” he nodded. “So, your questions,” he reminded her after a few seconds of silence.

“Right.” What had they been again? He kept looking at her, she had to get him to stop doing that. It was distracting. His eyes were distracting. She couldn’t think when they were in her, dammit. Oh! That was it! “Where are we?”

“My universe. I found you with and brought you here through a portal,” he stuck a hand in his pocket. “If you meant the locale, however, as I said before, this was our-“ he cut himself off, took a breath. “My dressing room until several years ago, when I stopped performing.”

“I… see,” she said slowly. So where was the other Mabel, then? Shouldn’t there be a fancy, blue-eyed, properly Adult™ version of herself somewhere? She looked around the dressing room (holy crapinoli, she didn’t think she’d ever seen so much blue in one room), but there were no signs of a woman anywhere. There were no perfume bottles or makeup on the vanity, no dresses on the clothing rack, nothing.

How strange.

“Why were you in Gravity Falls?” He asked.

“To get away.” Helooked at her questioningly. Did it count if it was an unspoken question? She wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t risking it. “I needed an escape. College can be… stressful.”

That wasn’t the full reason, of course, but she wasn’t lying, either.

“Interesting.” He tapped his fingers on his leg. How could a person’s fingers be pleasant to look at?

“Why did you bring me here?”

“You needed help,” he said simply, shrugging a shoulder. He winced slightly when he did, but just a bit; the change in expression so minor she wasn’t sure she’d seen it at all. “However did you find yourself kidnapped by gnomes, of all things? Gnomes who wanted you for their queen, no less.”

She looked away. It’d been a long time since she had fought against anything but class schedules and exams she wasn’t prepared for.

“They… caught me off guard,” she told him quietly. “They tried something similar when I was a kid, but they lost. It never occurred to me that they might try again.”

“Gnomes are persistent little things,” he mused. “They dislike losing, and they are quite stubborn. It stands to reason that they’d try again if you’d beaten them before.”

“What… what did you do?” Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “To the gnomes, I mean. Unless, of course, I’m misremembering, because there is every chance I am, what with the concussion I very likely have and all, so if I am just say the word, but it seemed pretty dang clear that-“

“I killed them,” he said bluntly. His face was bored, disinterested. Apathetic, even. It didn’t even seem to be bothering him. How could it not be bothering him? Unless…

Unless he’d killed before.

The human brain could get used to just about anything if given enough time.

“You- you killed them,” her voice was horrified, she knew. She could hear it in her tone. Yeah, she’d wanted to get away from them, she’d wanted them to leave her alone, and maybe she’d even wanted to give them a good whack, but she hadn’t wanted them dead.

“Of course I did,” he sounded surprised at her reaction. “They hurt you. They were going to hurt you far worse.”

“I know that,” she whispered. “I know that. But that doesn’t give you the right to just… you can’t be someone’s judge, jury, and executioner. That’s not right.”

“I only did it to save you, Mabel.” She had only heard Not-Dipper say her name once before.

It was different than when Dipper said it. Maybe it was because Not-Dipper’s voice was a little deeper, a little smoother-sounding?

“You weren’t safe. Not in your universe.” His eyes were burning, which was strange since they were the color of ice. “I can keep you safe. I will keep you safe.”

“Ummm… that’s cool and all, but that’s pretty freakin’ unsettling, to have somebody just, like. ‘Splode a bunch of gnomes for you,” she eyed him warily, still trying to figure out how to get away from the dude without crawling. Would he get angry with her for not being appreciative? She didn’t want to see him angry. Would he hurt her?

“I don’t want you to be scared of me,” he told her quietly, his voice a little sad.

She almost lied and told him she wasn’t scared of him, that everything was hunky-dorey, and that he should smile.

She didn’t.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have, I dunno, made people explode in front of me?” She was being sarcastic, she knew, and that was probably a bad idea, but sometimes she just couldn’t help herself.

“Gnomes aren’t people, technically,” he reminded her.

“Semantics,” she waved his argument away. “They’re living creatures. Or they were, anyway, before you decided to go and massacre them.”

Not-Dipper had a look on his face that suggested he wasn’t opposed to killing living creatures, whether they were human or not.

Maybe he already had.

Mabel hoped he hadn’t, but something in the way he held himself gave her a sneaking suspicion that he had.

“I’m sorry if that… bothers you, or if it scares you. I don’t want to make you feel those things,” he sighed. “That said, I think it’d be best if I were up front with you: if put in the same situation again -if you were in danger again, that is to say- I’d do the same thing.”

She crossed her arms, pursed her lips, and glared at him. “Take me home, please.”

There was panic in his eyes. “I- I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“The portal… it doesn’t work like that. I’ll have to find another way to get you back,” he explained. She was still glaring at him when he continued. “But for the time being, you can stay with me. If you want,” he turned his body to face her for the first time since he’d hugged her.

“Well. I suppose that’ll have to- WHAT ON EARTH IS THAT?” She was pointing, horrified, to his shoulder, where one arrow, perhaps about a foot long, was embedded in his shoulder. Another was in his side, the one that had been facing away from her. Blood had seeped through to pool around the entry wounds, though the bleeding seemed to have stopped. His eyes followed her shaking finger.

“Oh, right. I got shot with a couple of arrows. Just gnome ones, though, so they’re quite small,” she dropped her hand back to the soft fabric of the chaise.

“Okay, so you saved me, and you got hurt doing it,” she was saying this to herself, staring at her knees and speaking as if he couldn’t hear her when he could absolutely hear her. “Okay. Okay. This is fine, this is fine, Mabel girl.” She looked back up at him. “Okay, let’s go… wherever we need to go for you to treat those… yeah…”

“Very well,” he agreed. “I’ll take you there.”

He helped her to her feet, and she still found herself a bit dizzy, wobbling a bit.

“Would you like me to carry you?” he offered, steadying her with a hand on her arm.

“Carry m- say what now?”

“I don’t mind, particularly if you’re having difficulty walking still.” As if that explanation was adequate! Why was homeboy cool with it at all, though? She’d gotten a hella nasty gash on her leg once in PE, can ya guess how many people offered to freakin’ carry her to the nurse? Zero, is the answer. Zero.

What a weird dude. And Mabel was in love with her gay twin brother, so if she, of all people, thinks you’re weird, then you are weird.

“Nope!” she squeaked out way too quickly to sound even remotely close to being normal. “I’m good on the carrying front, thanks! Got it covered!”

“Suit yourself.” Ugh why, why was he smiling that smile again, it reminded her of Dipper and also not, and it made her nervous as all hell. “This way.” And with that, he promptly strolled out of his dressing room, clearly expecting her to follow.

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #gf fanfiction #pinecest #mabel pines #dipper gleeful #reverse dipper #reverse falls #fanfiction #my wriitng #Mabel’s all-in-one guide to being a shooting star #fucking hell RD is so hot

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atinybitofau · 4 years

Text

Y E O S A N G ⇾ mafia au

THE ONE WHERE YEOSANG DOESN’T LIKE GOING OUTSIDE

a/n: ver 1 of the mafia series completed. ver 2’s to start soon eeeekkkk

• his friends think he needs to go out more.

• that despite his skills on a computer,

• he should start socializing away from media.

• worried that he’s gotten too consumed by the LED.

• he definitely needs to go out more.

• “Hey Yeosang, I was thinking about watching Jong’s fight this Thursday. Was thinking maybe you wanted to join.”

• he doesn’t face his friend.

• knowing the look of concern he’d see.

• “Nah I’m good.”

• Yunho sighs walking over to his computer chair. “What you up to?”

• “Hongjoong wants me to get him the layout of the enterprise building by tomorrow. So I’m making a route.”

• “Yeosang, don’t you think the world would look much better seeing it person?”

• Yeosang bluntly laughs.

• thinking his friend is too open to cruel society.

• ironic right?

• that he works as a mobster in the dark.

• not wanting to remember his pasts when he was once exposed to the open environment of the world.

• he thinks society’s better through a computer screen than in person.

• “Why do I need to see it when I can see it just fine from here?”

• Yunho leaves shaking his head.

• knowing the mob scene wasn’t something Yeosang wanted to do.

• it was an offer he just couldn’t pass up.

• cause he can use his skills to do good in society—

• albeit not morally right,

• but still.

• bringing down the people he thinks don’t deserve to define society in the first place.

• he thinks that only he understands how ugly the world really is.

• that he doesn’t need to leave the comfort of his isolation to know.

• and the day he’s coordinating from his dark room,

• the day he’s switching from tab to tab on his computer,

• making sure Wooyoung doesn’t hit any red lights,

• and the boys don’t encounter any mishaps,

• he sees you.

• and he’s almost enticed to leave his chair and join the party.

• “Yeosang, where am I going man?” Wooyoung sounds frantic through his in ear. “I’ve got cops up my ass and the enemy tailing my bumper. You gotta make a call.”

• but he can’t.

• he’s on the wrong tab.

• staring at you.

• the LED maybe starting to get to him.

• “The girl.”

• “What fucking girl, Yeo?! Dude, you gotta get me out of here.”

• he thinks he has to.

• of course, it’s his best friend.

• he curses canceling your tab out just for a second.

• “Left.”

• but by the time Wooyoung reaches safety,

• and he’s back on your tab.

• you’re gone.

• “Good job, Yeosang. We got the package.”

• he thinks maybe they did.

• but why did it feel like he didn’t?

• the next days come by and he’s out of it.

• out of his wit searching endless on the internets dark web,

• trying to find you.

• but it’s hard.

• to narrow down a beautiful girl when he can only remember your face 8 bit.

• “Hey, do you have a minute?”

• Yeosang for once,

• snaps around with a heavy heart.

• for once wanting to stand up from his chair and go out.

• to find you.

• cause he knows where you were.

• and he knows he might see you again.

• but he’d have to expose himself.

• he might just not be ready for that.

• so here comes Hongjoong, ready to offer him another thing he can’t pass up.

• “I’ve noticed some discrepancies with your blueprints for tomorrow’s heist.” he sits on the desk, arms crossed, worried now that he sees Yeosang hasn’t slept a blink. “Everything okay?”

• he wants to tell him.

• usually Yeosang’s blunt and careless.

• but he wants to let his feelings out.

• so he can understand why one girl managed to change his mind about staying in a computer chair.

• “Hyung, there’s this girl.” Yeosang starts, blinking under his glasses. “I can’t stop thinking about her. Like... the internet’s great and particularly very easy for me as a hacker. And I’m usually smart enough to find anything on it, my computer screen being my source of the outside.”

• Hongjoong chuckles.

• knowing though he may have took part in raising the orphan he’s always proud of,

• it’s time he started raising himself.

• “And what about this girl makes you want to tell me about it?”

• Yeosang sighs.

• heart on fire.

• your image flashing his mind like the things on his computer he sees 12 hours a day.

• “I want to find her, hyung. But I won’t be able to do it here.”

• “Then you should go. See the outside a little bit and maybe you’ll find her there. You know, the internet doesn’t have all the answers.

• Hongjoong does though.

• because he knows this girl— you.

• knows why you stood out.

• because you were the one girl in Yeosang’s orphanage the day he picked him up.

• the girl who held his hand when Hongjoong found him.

• wonders why Yeosang never remembered it was you.

• “Oh god! I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you.”

• he thinks you’re beautiful.

• can’t say the same about the environment around you,

• the weird feeling of unartificial air brushing against his skin.

• but he thinks it’s worth it.

• cause he still gets to see you.

• “That’s okay.” Yeosang mutters like an idiot. “I... I um actually came here to see you.”

• you smile softly,

• blowing your hair out of your face after standing from picking up your things.

• he thinks you look like you came straight of a fantasy film.

• and you think he looks familiar.

• someone you sometimes search the web for not exactly a movie.

• “Oh.” you hold your box to your side, cocking your hip. “In that case, what can I do for you?”

• he’s speechless.

• tongue tied—

• cause when was the last time he talked to a stranger in person before?

• “Sorry this was a mistake.”

• he thinks he’s dumb.

• that if society rejected him before,

• why would it accept him now?

• you want to chase after him.

• but first watch him turn.

• not failing to catch the heart shaped birthmark hidden under his glasses frame.

• “Yeosang?!”

• he stops.

• he blinks seeing white.

• maybe it’s from the LED exposure he gets sitting behind his computer screen all day long,

• but the moment his name escapes your lips,

• he remembers the one person who never rejected him.

• despite being apart of cruel society.

• “Oh my god, it is you.”

• you drop your box and sprint on your heels.

• heart on fire when you see your old childhood flame.

• the one man you thought society deserved more than anyone.

• but he freezes.

• unfamiliar with the feeling of affection.

• only knowing the affection of his keyboard and his mouse.

• “Yeosang, I missed you.”

• years passed.

• YEARS.

• but you didn’t need the internet to remember who this man was.

• “Where did you go? Why did you leave?”

• he stares down at you through his glasses.

• thinking,

• how could he forget that the world up close could be more beautiful than seeing it through a computer screen?

• how could he forget you?

• “Y/n.”

• you smile the biggest smile in the world.

• “You remember.”

• he kisses you.

• because well—

• years away from social interaction kept him from knowing boundaries.

• but that’s okay with you.

• you can read him like an open book.

• that they Yeosang was the same afraid kid he was the day he was abducted from the orphanage.

• the same kid who kissed you whenever he felt scared of the world.

• “You know, this doesn’t make up for you leaving me behind all those years.” you run your thumb against the strange birthmark on his cheek as he stares at you. “But I think you can start with this, sure.”

• he’s bewitched.

• never wanting to stop looking at you.

• maybe the chances of staring at you better than the chances of staring at his computer to fulfill his desires.

• “Do you.. do you want to meet my friends?”

• you giggle,

• feeling bewitched too.

• “Do they treat you better than the world ever could?”

• he wonders why.

• why the internet can’t always explain love the way he needed it too.

• making more sense only because he meets you.

• “Yeah. They do.”

• you giggle again.

• and it’s an audio that he’dvput on repeat even if it killed him and his CPU.

• “Well do you think they’ll mind if we all go out for lunch?”

• you interlace your hands with a man you think only subsided in your memory.

• your gigabytes running so low you almost needed to erase some things.

• but your glad you didn’t.

• wondering what would’ve happened if you stopped searching for Yeosang on the web every now and then.

• cause if you did, maybe you would’ve forget who Yeosang even was.

• “I have this amazing restaurant by the beach. And I think you might find it more beautiful in person than in a plain digital picture I could show you.”

• he’s never been one to think the world was beautiful in person.

• but maybe the world was just beautiful because you were in it.

• and he’d be okay with that.

• —be okay with exposing himself again.

• just to be with you.

• “If it’s as beautiful as you, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

@atinybitofau

#yeosang #kang yeosang #ateez yeosang #ateez #ateez reactions #ateez preferences #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #yeosang scenarios #yeosang oneshot #yeosang imagines #yeosang reaction #ateez mafia au #yunho #hongjoong #yeosang mafia au

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starlightinhumanform · 4 years

Text

Midas

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship: Romantic Loceit, Background Platonic Logincality

Summary: Greek myth tells of King Midas who could turn anything he touched to gold. Damian hates New Years but when his friends drag him to a party, he meets a man makes everything around him just a little better.

Warnings (in order of strength): A lot of drinking/alcohol mentions/partying (none underage), Mild language throughout, (please tell me if anything needs to be added)

Genre: Fluff, Mild Angst with a happy ending, Human (college) AU

A/N: Deceit’s name is Damian in this fic :) ALSO I know there’s quite a few younger kids in this fandom and if you’re reading this (first of all, hi I love you) please please PLEASE do not take this fic as an inspiration to abuse alcohol. Underaged drinking/partying can be extremely dangerous. Ok enough being serious!! I hope you enjoy! Love you all 🖤✨

Ao3 Link Fic Masterpost Fic Request Info

Damian wasn’t a fan of New Years. It shouldn’t mean anything- he knew that. It was just another random day; the fact that people liked to put special significance on it didn’t actually do anything.

But all the talk of new times got into his head, made him think. It made him think about how many things had changed- the friends he had lost, the goals he had once held dear now thrown away. It made him think about how little he had grown- the bitterness he held onto, the stagnation that had settled across him. He was in his third year of grad-school; soon he would be shoved out into the real world with no academic purpose to shelter him.

“New Year, New Me.” Damian didn’t even know who he was.

If there was one thing he hated more than New Years, it was New Years parties. He would go so far as to say the things were the bane of his existence. The music was bad, people got loud and overly exuberant, and strobe lights were used were used far more than ever reasonable. Alcohol always floated around with disturbing prevalence. He hated how fuzzy it made his head- throwing off his balance and slowing his thoughts- but at least it made the party easier to handle.

Damian threw back a shot of cheap, bight blue tequila and winced as it hit the back of his throat. Disgusting. Just because he was trying to get drunk didn’t mean he lacked class.

He set the glass down on a table behind him so he could pretend he hadn’t touched the repulsive thing. He was sitting on a sofa tucked against the back corner of a living room in a house he had never been to before. Next to him, someone was already passed out. They would be starting their new year with a killer hangover.

Across the room, he could see the friends who had dragged him to the houseparty. Roman and Patton were dancing in a crowd of other students, broad grins painted across both of their faces. At least they were happy.

A young man weaved his way through the crowd and threw himself onto the sofa next to Damian with a mixture of disdain and defeat. Damian had seen him around a few times; they had a philosophy class together the last semester. What was his name? Lucas? Landon? Bradon?

“Hey,” Lu-nd-on elbowed him in the side, “You want some champagne?”

Damian raised an eyebrow as he turned to face the man, “Excuse me?”

He pulled a bottle of champagne from somewhere in his coat. The gold foil at the top was already ripped away and he popped the cork off with ease, taking a swig before offering it.

Damian tried not to stare incredulously, but it was a difficult task when his brain was short-circuiting, “Did you just drink out of a champagne bottle like it was a beer?”

“Sure. Why not.”

Damian reached out hesitantly to take the bottle. He was beginning to doubt that this actually was the guy he had shared a class with. That one looked like the type who wouldn’t have been caught dead at a party. The only similarity was the way they dressed- round wireframe glasses, a corduroy jacket over a black button down, and black skinny jeans. His hair- dark brown and pulled into a long ponytail- was the same too.

“Did- did we have a class together?” He took a drink. It was good- expensively good.

“Historical philosophy. You probably don’t remember me- my name’s Logan. You’re Damian, right?”

“Yep. I hear I’m kind of hard to forget,” Damian waved his hand at the dark red birthmark that stretched messily across the left side of his face.

“No. Well, yes. That is, I remember you for a different reason.”

Logan stared at him like he was supposed to understand what that meant. Damian stared back, hoping to convey the fact that he, in no way, understood what was going on.

“So, uh,” Damian searched for something to keep the conversation going, “can I ask about the champagne?”

“You’re asking why I have it?”

Damian nodded, “I am, yeah. Also why you pulled it out of your jacket?”

“As for the first question: people seem to have made a tradition out of getting wasted on New Years Eve and I decided to join them this year.”

Damian had never heard someone speak so matter of factly about getting drunk. He shook his head, laughing, “So you bought an entire bottle of champagne? There are easier methods, you know that right?”

“If you’re referring to the blue monstrosity everyone keeps offering, please know that I’m not a heathen.”

“Oh, so you tried one of those awful things too?”

Logan rolled his eyes with a ruthful smile, “I may have made that mistake.”

Damian handed the bottle back to Logan who took another drink before locking his gaze on Damian’s eyes. He stared like there was a problem in them and he just couldn’t figure out how to solve it. Damian was used to people staring, but not like this. Usually, they would take one look at him and their eyes would glaze over. Whatever the conversation might be, they would always be partially focused on the splatters some god had painted on his face long before he had a say in the matter. It wasn’t that Damian disliked his birthmark. He just hated the way people always saw it instead of him.

But Logan. He was looking at him. Into him, through him. He had no idea what to do with that.

Damian laughed nervously, “What are you looking at?”

Logan cleared his throat and stared out into the crowd, “Anyways I had it in my jacket because these people are all animals and I’d prefer they didn’t rob me of my 35 dollar champagne.”

Logan had handed him the bottle back and Damian choked on the mouthful he had been trying to drink, “I’m sorry, what? So let me get this right: you bought a champagne bottle which is worth more than I usually spend on food for a week. And now you are sharing it with me of all people?”

“Why not you of all people?”

Logan was staring at him again like answers to all of these riddles were obvious.

Damian blinked back, feeling more lost than he had in years. Even that stupid Advanced Geometry course he had decided to take in his freshman year hadn’t screwed him over this badly. Maybe the alcohol was finally getting to him. It would explain why he couldn’t hold a single coherent thought and why he was so hypnotized by the pale freckles that dusted Logan’s nose and cheekbones. They were so light they nearly melted into his skin and seemed to be phasing in and out off existence as the dim lighting played against Logan’s face. He had never noticed them before. Then again, he had never gotten this close before. It was a shame; Logan was mesmerizing. Damian wished he could get closer.

“So what are you going to do after we get out of here?”

It took Damian a moment to realize Logan was asking about a career and not what he would be doing after the party once they left- apparently together. That would have been strange; it was weird his brain even jumped to that conclusion. Maybe he should stop drinking that damn champagne.

He sighed as his mind returned to the actual question. He wanted to make something up, hide behind a lie of certainty and determination. But it was too much work to weave that fabrication together. Especially on the spot. Especially with how his head was feeling. Especially in front of Logan. He hung his head, “Honestly I have no clue. I’ve always been interested in social sciences but beyond that... no plan, no clue.”

A beat of silence played out between them.

“So what about you?” The forced brightness in his voice tasted fake and bitter in his mouth.

“I want to teach sciences,” Logan’s eyes glittered.

“A college professor, huh? I could definitely see it,” Logan handed him the bottle and Damian threw yet another swallow back. Didn’t he say he was going to stop?

“High school level, actually.”

“Really? That doesn’t seem-“ Damian pointed at the champagne bottle in an attempt to remind Logan of what a bougie, extra bitch he was, “ -sophisticated enough for you.”

Logan shrugged, “I kind of have a fascination with high schoolers-“

“Ok, that’s creepy.”

“Not like that! I mean the culture, the slang, the way it’s its own little society interacting within a larger one!” Logan’s face had split into a grin as he talked, waving his hands excitedly.

Damian didn’t even resist urge to smile back. Seeing Logan like this, well, there was something contagious about it. He couldn’t help but feel slightly in awe of the passion he saw in Logan, “You really like this stuff, don’t you?”

Logan nodded vigorously, “Do you know the new word high schoolers today have invented and are using?”

“Hmm?” Damian prompted. Anything to keep Logan talking like this. Damian wasn’t sure why he wanted to keep Logan talking. It had something to do with the way warmth was spreading out from his core in a way that was far gentler than anything drinks could do.

“Yeet.”

In the adjoining room Damian could see two groups standing on opposite tables chanting “Yeet, Yeet, Yeet, Yeet” as they tossed a smaller student (who looked like they were having the time of their life) back and forth.

“Uhh, I think college kids use that too,” Damian didn’t want to burst Logan’s bubble but he felt like he was losing his mind. At any moment he was going to start cackling.

Logan paused, giving him a pointed stare, “Maybe you do.”

Damian broke. He collapsed forward, glad he had handed the bottle back as he wrapped his arms around his shaking body. He could hardly breathe but he couldn’t stop laughing either. His head was light and buzzing warmly. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, but as tears started streaming out of his eyes, he knew he was officially drunk. Who gave a shit? That had been his goal, right?

He fell all the way down, letting his head land on Logan’s knee. He still couldn’t stop laughing even though it had developed solely into wheezes at that point.

Damian felt a hesitant hand tap on his back before actually settling there, “Are you ok?”

Damian sat up and wiped away the tears that had gathered at the corners of his eyes, “Bro, you’re so judgmental.”

Logan’s face shifted from concern into a scowl, “Oh. Sorry.”

The heavy bass of whatever song was playing took over the space between them. Damian kept thinking about destroying that gap. All he would have to do would be lean over, rest himself against Logan, maybe fall asleep. Maybe it was the overpriced buzz in his head talking, but he felt safe around Logan.

Out of the blue, Logan stood up, adjusting the hem of his jacket as he turned to face Damian, “Well, I won’t be bothering you anymore. Maybe I’ll see you around campus sometime. You can finish that if you want.”

Damian looked down by his feet where Logan was pointing to the champagne bottle, “Wait, I don’t understand. You’re leaving? Where?”

Logan glanced around, looking anywhere but Damian’s face. Damian was used to that but this felt different. Logan was different. At least under usual circumstances, he knew why people so adamantly refused to acknowledge his existence. He made them uncomfortable; he didn’t like it, but he got it. Here, he was absolutely clueless.

Logan finally managed to make eye contact. He was trying for a smile but as an expert liar, Damian could see straight through to the grimace beneath, “Oh, I’m sure I’ll find someone else who will tolerate my presence for a few moments.”

“Hey,” Damian acted on impulse. After all, Logan’s hand was just hanging there. It was far too empty. And at the moment, reaching forward to grab Logan’s wrist was Damian’s only way to insure that Logan wouldn’t walk away. He knew Logan was a smart guy and would probably see his honeyed whines as deception, but he had to try, “You’re really just going to get me drunk and then ditch me? Who knows what could happen?”

Logan’s eyebrows creased but he didn’t say anything. He looked like he was in pain, eyes sharp and teeth clenched behind a grimace. It was enough to make Damian drop his hand.

“Logan, it’s entirely your choice but if you would like to stay with me, I would enjoy that very much,” Truth wasn’t his strong suit, but he figured it was worth a try.

Logan squinted at him, confused or at least doubtful, “I thought you disliked my judgmental attitude.”

Damian groaned, “Dude... I didn’t mean it like that. I thought it was funny. I think you’re funny.”

“Oh,” Logan looked like he was having a hard time processing Damian’s words. It made him wonder just how many of those tequila shots Logan had thrown back before walking over. He had to be drunk. It was the only way to explain why he was acting so strange.

Damian reached out again and slowly pulled Logan back. He was hesitant but didn’t resist. Logan sat down next to Damian as if he didn’t understand his own actions. His eyes picked Damian apart like he was looking for the fine print.

“You’re sure you don’t mind me?” Logan’s expression was completely open. He was looking for the truth and Damian didn’t think he’d be able to lie if he wanted to. It was a good thing he didn’t need to.

He smiled, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Oh. Ok,” Logan settled back into the couch but his eyebrows were still weaved together. Apparently his programs finished running because he suddenly turned to Damian, grinning brightly, “I’m glad.”

Damian smiled back. He was happy to see Logan with that sparkle back, if a little confused as to how he had caused it, “You’re glad... I don’t mind you?”

Logan nodded, “Some people think I’m a little strange.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Damian winced and tried to rush out his next words, “Not, like, I think you’re strange- I think you’re really cool. I just mean people think I’m strange too.”

Damian swore he could map constellations in the stars floating in Logan’s eyes, “You think I’m cool?”

He shrugged, “I mean, yeah. You always seem to have it all together and you have determination and goals and it’s so obvious that you’re going to reach them. That passion is rare to see any more. I mean, I don’t have any of that. You don’t know how much I looked up to you in that class.”

Logan blinked at him like a deer in headlights for a moment before he began frowning, “But you’re incorrect.”

Damian looked up from where had been trying to see how much champagne was left in the bottle, “What do you mean?”

“You obviously have passion. You always had points to bring up during discussions and it was clear you had deep interest in the topics. You don’t know how in awe of you I was. You always found the least likely angle to take and still managed to make a convincing argument,” Logan took the bottle out of Damian’s frozen hands and took a drink, “It was art.”

Damian opened his mouth but all memory of speech had escape him. He looked away, trying to find something safe to stare at while he tried to gather his thoughts. His head was full of fragments, dulled glass shards that floated through fog and bumped against the edges of his mind. It hurt to try to put them all back together into one piece.

So Logan had noticed him in that class. And had remembered him; quite clearly it seemed. Except the way he was talking... nobody had ever spoken to Damian that way before. He was tempted to ask Logan if he had mistaken him for someone else.

He found his eyes wandering down to the space between them. More accurately, he was staring at how little space there was between them. When Logan had sat down the second time, he had done so right next to Damian. Like, right next to him. Now their legs were pressed together, hips and knees bumping together every time one of them shifted. Damian marveled at the fact that he hadn’t noticed before.

“Damian?” He looked up into Logan’s concerned face. God, they were so close, “Are you ok? Your eyes kinda glazed over.”

Damian laughed. It sounded breathy and far away, “Yeah, I’m good.”

From another room, someone started yelling, “LAST 15 MINUTES OF THE YEAR!!”

Logan squinted down at his watch before glaring in the direction of the voice, “There’s only five minutes left.”

Damian chuckled, watching the lines of Logan’s frown as he grimaced at the sea of people around them. There was something endearing about the blunt disdain Logan had for the idiots around them. It was nice to know he didn’t fit into that group, that he had- by some miracle- managed to fit into Logan’s bubble.

“So... you usually celebrate New Years like this?” Logan had suddenly become quite fidgety, wringing his hands in his lap. Damian tried to ignore it. He was having a hard enough time working on his own thoughts; he couldn’t even begin picking apart Logan’s thoughts.

Damian shook his head, “You mean a party? Nah, I usually don’t even celebrate. What about you?”

“Same. I don’t generally go to parties at all.”

Ah, so Damian’s original impression had been correct, “So what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Logan deftly avoided the question with a smirk. Damn, he was good at this.

Damian rolled his eyes, “Some friends dragged me here. Now you tell me what a straight-laced nerd like you is doing in a place like this.”

Logan snorted, “Don’t remember the last time anyone described me as straight- anything.”

“What?”

Damian wanted to shake his head like a dog getting out of water. Maybe then, the pieces would fall into some sort of pattern he could recognize. So Logan wasn’t straight. Why did that make him so happy?

He ran his hands through his hair and tried to gain some composure, “Ok, so what is someone like you doing in a place like this?”

Logan looked out across the crowd, his mouth a tight line. On the other side of the room someone took a running start and flung themselves on a pool table that had currently been in use. The thing cracked in half.

“I was-,” Logan paused, hands tapping quickly against his leg, “-convinced.”

Damian raised an eyebrow, “I’ve never heard someone talk so ominously about going to a party; what is that even supposed to mean?”

Logan winced. His hands were doing full cardio now, clenching into fists over and over again, “I was told someone was going to be here. I just really wanted the chance to talk to him again.”

“But you’ve only talked to me.”

“Yes,” Logan gave him that stare again like Come on, dude, the puzzle pieces are right there- just put them together. He rubbed his eyes in his hands, “Maybe this was a mistake. I didn’t mean to get you drunk. I thought you’d still be able to figure out-“

Click.

Damian’s mouth fell, “Wait, I’m the one you wanted to talk to?”

Logan gave him a small smile. It was the first time Damian had seen him look unsure of himself, “Well, yeah.”

“Oh,” Damian’s head was swimming. He could have blamed it on the champagne or how late it was or the way the lighting had began strobing, flickering between bright neon shades. But he knew that wasn’t it. He couldn’t lie this time- not even to himself.

Logan’s eyes were wide, staring into Damian. Not into his eyes- him. It was unnerving in the best way possible. The shifting light played across his irises, making them every colour of the rainbow.

“Is that ok?”

Logan’s voice startled him back to the present. He had leaned forward, supposedly to be heard above the shouting that had started. Amongst all of the raised voices, Logan’s had only gotten lower. His breath played against Damian’s ear.

Damian looked up, startled slightly but smiling, “Yeah, yeah, that’s good. That’s great.”

Logan smiled, “Yeah? Great?”

He was definitely leaning forward.

Damian huffed out a sigh but smiled even wider, “Shut up. I’m pretty sure you’re drunk.”

Logan scoffed, “And you’re not? You’re a total lightweight.”

“Shut up.”

“TEN!”

The entire house shook as the ridiculous number of students began screaming in unison

“You know, it’s also tradition to kiss someone on New Years,” Logan looked infuriatingly smug.

“NINE!”

Damian usually hated this part, everyone around him creating one huge voice- everyone but him.

Damian raised an eyebrow, “Are you asking to kiss me?”

“EIGHT!”

What he always hated most was the way the entire world seemed to be celebrating- without him. The whole damn planet filled with joy for one tiny moment and he could never figure out why.

Logan smiled like the Cheshire Cat- except the Cheshire Cat had just won the lottery, “Maybe.”

“SEVEN!”

At this point, his heart rate usually would have been spiking, feeling the pressure of “new opportunities” pressing all their expectant eyes on him.

Damian laughed, “Did you come over to talk to me just so you could get a kiss tonight?”

“SIX!”

There was always a part of Damian that would scorn him for not being happy, question why he had turned out to be such a sad, useless lump while everyone else was happily looking forward to the future.

“No,” Logan set his jaw like a stubborn toddler, “I came over here to talk to you so I could get a kiss from you tonight.”

“FIVE!”

No matter what he did, the New Year would plague him. His whole apartment complex would rattle as chanting counted down. The first hours of the year would often find Damian wandering through empty streets, desperate to escape the celebration.

Logan slid his hand onto Damian’s knee, “So can I? Kiss you?”

“FOUR!”

The whole event was just one monstrous reminder. It was an ugly mar on the calendar that whispered Look at all the things you’ve ruined. Look at how far you’ve fallen. Look at how little your future holds.

Damian nodded dumbly. His heart was pounding in his ears.

“THREE!”

New Year made him think of his parents. He always put on a bright mask for them, feeding them lies of empty aspirations and opportunities that didn’t exist. How would they feel to know their son was barreling headfirst into a dead end?

Damian was learning he didn’t need alcohol; Logan was intoxicating enough. The shine in his eyes, the self-satisfied tug to his lips, the way he kept getting closer and closer- it made Damian’s thoughts slow to a halt and everything around him lose focus.

“TWO!”

Every year, the day after would be exactly like the day before. Everyone else seemed to be determined to make themselves better. As much as he searched, Damian could never find the ways to change. New Years was usually taunting, reminding him that he would always be broken and would never be able to fix himself.

Logan’s hands played across his chest, smoothed over his shoulder, ran through his hair. His eyes found Damian’s soul. Damian couldn’t remember how to breathe.

“ONE!!”

Damian had always hated New Years.

Logan leaned all the way forward and his lips were on Damian’s. It was deeper than Damian was expecting, both of their mouths slightly open. Logan kept surging forward with his whole body, destroying the few inches left between them. Damian happily followed his lead, mindlessly falling into synchronous rhythm as Logan kept moving his lips. Except it wasn’t just his lips; Logan kissed with his whole body. He leaned against Damian and his hands were always roaming, leaving little touches as they danced over Damian’s body.

Sure, Damian had kissed other guys before. But he was pretty sure this was the first time anyone had kissed him.

One of Logan’s hands found its way to Damian’s face. His fingers tapped lightly across his birthmark. Damian remembered the kids who stared without shame, the eyes that would dart away as soon as they saw him, the way he could never hold a conversation without his birthmark joining as an unwanted guest star. Logan hadn’t done any of that. Damian had no words to describe what that man was but he liked it.

Damian broke away, completely out of breath. He had no idea how long they had been kissing- it could have been hours for all he knew- but his lungs didn’t have the same luxury of losing track.

Logan’s chest was heaving as it pressed against Damian’s side. His eyes were wide and glazed, staring a million miles away.

“Hey, Logan?”

Logan’s eyes regained their sharp focus. He smiled brightly, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”

“You’re a dork. But really,” Damian sighed, “thank you.”

Logan gave him a puzzled smile, “What for?”

“I’m pretty sure this is the first New Year I’ve ever actually enjoyed,” Damian snuggled himself closer to Logan, smiling when he felt an arm wrap around his shoulders.

Logan spoke with measured, careful words, “If you like, we could, you know, make our own New Years tradition out of this.”

Damian could feel his eyelids falling and rising every time he blinked like the great velvet currents of a theatre. They were heavy and he was warm and his head was a vague haze. He yawned widely and wrapped his arms around Logan’s waist, “I don’t think we have to wait until New Year to do this again.”

He fell asleep listening to Logan stuttering out some happy response. Maybe New Years wasn’t so bad.

If you want to be added to my Sanders Sides fic taglist just send me an ask or reply to this post :p

~ @phan-fander @abi-beehive ~

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chloelucia13 · 4 years

Text

Chapter 4: The Body

Pairing: none for the moment (currently Jonathan Byers x platonic!Henderson!reader)

Prompt: You always thought Hawkins was the most boring town of all, stuck in a vacuum void of excitement and entertainment. Well, it seems that way until the world decided to flip upside down, literally.

Chapter Summary: From the night they found the body to the next day, dread had settled in your stomach, though you stuck with Jonathan the whole time. Though it seemed Jonathan completely forgot about you when Nancy came to you two with a strange creature lurking in one of Jonathan’s photos.

Chapter Warnings: lotsa angst, a little fluff, language, violence, descriptions of horror and gore, normal stuff

Word Count: 3032

A/N: New part! Hope you guys like it! The tag list for this story is open!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

“A trooper found something in the water that’s at the quarry,” Hopper began to explain, and you instinctively reached out to clutch Jonathan’s and Joyce’s hands. “We believe that it is Will’s body.”

Jonathan immediately stepped over to you and hid his face in your shoulder, tightly squeezing your hand.

“Our working theory right now is that Will crashed his bike. He made his way over to the quarry and, uh... Accidentally fell in. The earth must have given way.” There was a moment of silence as Joyce stared off into the distance, a blank look on her face. “Joyce? Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“No,” she voiced finally. “Whoever you found, that’s not my boy. That’s not Will.”

“Joyce-”

“No, you don’t understand. I talked to him a half hour ago.” She sniffled and stepped over to the small storage door, pulling out a wad of string lights. “He was... He was here. He was talking with these!”

“Talking?”

“Uh-huh. One blink for yes, two for no.” She threw the lights back into the storage area. “And uh... And then I made this, so he could talk to me.” She gestured to the wall covered in string lights and messily painted letters. “‘Cause he was hiding from that... that thing.”

“The thing that came out of the wall? The thing that chased you?”

She nodded vehemently. “Yeah!”

Jonathan slowly pulled away from your grasp and walked closer to his mother. “Mom, come on. Please. You’ve gotta stop this.” He gripped her arms.

“Maybe he’s... It’s after him! He’s in danger! We-” She turned to Hopper, gripping onto his arms like how Jonathan did to her.

“What exactly was this thing?” Hopper interjected. “It was some kind of animal you said?”

“No, it was- it was almost human but... but it wasn’t. It had these long arms... and it didn’t have a face.”

“It didn’t have a face?”

Jonathan let out a huff and turned to storm off into his room. “A-And Y/N saw it too! Last night! T-The thing in the wall and the flashing lights and the stereo-” Joyce rushed to explain, trying to convince both Hopper and Jonathan.

Jonathan stopped in his tracks and turned to face you, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What?” he whispered.

You struggled to find the correct words, panic beginning to rush through your body. “I-I did see... something. In the wall,” you stated simply, stumbling over your words.

“So you both had weird experiences?” Hopper clarified, to which you responded with a nod.

“I-It’s real...” Joyce persisted.

Jonathan continued on his trek back to his room, and you followed closely behind him “Jonathan, please,” you whispered, following him into his room and gripping onto his forearm.

“Why are you trying to feed into my mom’s delusions? Making her think that what she’s seeing is real?” he hissed, turning to face you.

Your heart twisted at his words. “I... I did see something. But I was also stressed out of my mind and extremely upset that night. Maybe I... Maybe I hallucinated it.”

Jonathan pursed his lips and sat down on the edge of his bed, leaving a space next to him to let you sit there. “What did you see that night?”

You sighed and shook your head. “We’ll talk about that another time. Okay?” He nodded once, staying silent. “Listen, I know you’re upset. You have every goddamn right to be. And I know that you have no clue how to deal with it, so you’re taking it out on me. But right now, we just need to... Let it out. Healthily.” You sat down next to him and took his hand in yours, gliding your fingers along his knuckles.

“And how do we let it out in a healthy way?”

You rose from your spot on the bed and picked his Walkman up off of his dresser. You walked over to his cassette collection and sifted through the tapes before finding one of your favorite Joy Division mixes he had made, and popping it into the tape deck before handing the Walkman to him. “By listening to Joy Division and crying our eyes out.”

He let out a sigh, fiddling with the wire of his headphones. “Y/N, I don’t know-”

“Trust me.” You grabbed your favorite blanket from his closet and instructed him to lay down, waiting until he did so to lay down next to him, resting your head on his chest and draping the blanket over the two of you.

“But how will you listen to the music?”

You sighed and sat up, looking him in the eye. “I’ve already done my crying tonight. Now it’s my turn to comfort, and your turn to let it out.”

“Y/N-”

“Jonathan, I know you. You haven’t had a chance to cry this whole time because you have to be strong for your mom. You don’t have to hold it in any longer.”

You took the headphones from his hands and placed them over his ears, pressing start on the tape before laying your head back down against his chest. Slowly, you could feel his body start to shake with sobs as he finally let go, his arms winding around you and holding you close.

After a while, you both drifted off to sleep, if only for a few hours.

***

You had woken up early that morning from the sun shining in through the windows. The two of you were tangled together, clutching tightly to each other as if the other would drift away if let go. You had to try and unwrap yourself from the blanket before slipping out of his grasp, tumbling to the floor and startling Jonathan awake.

“It’s just me!” you whisper-yelled, slowly sitting up and rubbing your eyes. “Sorry, I was trying to get up without waking you. I guess that really didn’t work out well.”

He let out a soft chuckle, running a hand through his messy hair. He had gotten out of bed and helped you to your feet, holding your hand for a moment longer before turning and heading out into the living room. You followed behind him, trying to comb through your tangled hair as you did so.

Joyce was asleep on the couch, sitting up with an axe in her lap. Jonathan shared a look with you before stepping over to her and gently shaking her awake. “Mom, wake up!” he said, wary of the axe in her hand.

She shot up, blinking rapidly. “What... What time is it?” she voiced groggily.

“It’s almost 8:00. We have to go.”

“Go where? Where?”

He gulped. “To see Will.” He sat up and headed into his room to get ready.

Joyce sat there for a moment trying to wake herself up. You had walked over, gently taking the axe from her hands and propping it up against the wall. “You okay?” you whispered, offering her a soft smile.

She let out a sigh, sitting up. “I... I don’t really know.”

You nodded, turning your gaze to the floor. “Do you guys want me to come with?”

She stayed silent for a moment, contemplating. “Please.”

You nodded again, comfortingly touching her shoulder. “Of course.”

***

You could see Jonathan trembling as he stared through the observation window. His jaw was set tight, eyes focused on anything else other than the blue sheet that was covering a human form. You were tightly gripping onto his coat sleeve, your stomach churning nauseously.

Slowly, the examiner peeled away the blue sheet, revealing the upper half of the body. Will’s body.

Jonathan could barely look at the body for a moment before running off to the bathroom, bile rising to his throat.

You, however, couldn’t look away. It was like torture, your eyes glued to the limp body as your body began to shake and your eyes welled with tears. You gripped onto the windowsill until your knuckles turned white, your knees nearly buckling underneath you.

Joyce stared incredulously for a moment, her mind swarming with thoughts. “He has a birthmark on his right arm,” she explained to the examiner. “Can you show that to me please?”

Slowly, the examiner lifted up the limp arm.

You had to step out at that time.

You stumbled out of the observation room and down the hallway, pushing past the double doors that led to the waiting area. All the air had left your lungs, and you gasped for air as soon as you stepped foot into the waiting area. You planted your hands on your knees and hunched over, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to suck air back into your lungs.

Slowly, you had stood back up and took a seat next to Hopper, your gaze locked on the floor. A moment later, Jonathan stepped out of the bathroom and sat down next to you, wordlessly grabbing your hand.

“How’s your mom doing?” Hopper voiced suddenly, noticing the silent tension in the air.

“I don’t know,” Jonathan sighed.

“How long’s this stuff been going on? With the lights and uh... Will and the thing in the wall?”

Jonathan shrugged and shook his head slightly. “Since the first phone call, I guess.” There was a few moments of silence before Jonathan spoke again. “You know, she’s had anxiety problems. In the past. But this... I don’t know.” He took a deep breath and you squeezed his hand reassuringly. “I’m worried it could be... Ugh, I don’t know.” He sighed and hung his head, trying to collect himself as tears welled in his eyes. “She’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. My mom... she’s tough.”

“Yeah she is,” Hopper agreed, smiling slightly.

Suddenly, Joyce busted through the double doors, the examiner on her tail. “Ma’am!” he shouted, rushing to keep up with her. “Ma’am, I need you to sign!”

“I don’t- I don’t know what you think that thing is in there, but that is not my son!” Joyce shouted back.

You all shot up to your feet, Hopper immediately attempting to calm her down. “Joyce, wait a second-” he began.

“No!” She huffed and hurried out the door.

“Mom,” Jonathan pleaded while you sighed out a quiet “Joyce,” both of you rushing to catch up with her.

As soon as the two of you got outside, however, she was already halfway down the street. With a sigh, you and Jonathan walked over to the car, getting in and driving up to Joyce.

“Mom, will you get in?” Jonathan begged through your rolled down window.

“No, I... I need to think. Just go on home,” she stammered.

“Joyce, please just get in the car,” you voiced softly, trying to persuade her.

She crossed the street and Jonathan parked against the sidewalk, getting out and following after her. You followed behind him, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Mom,” Jonathan shouted. You both jogged to catch up with her. “Mom, stop!”

“Just go home, guys!” she demanded, spinning on her heel.

“No, this is not an okay time to shut down!”

“Shut down? What-”

“We have to deal with this, mom. We have to deal with the funeral!”

She stared at him incredulously. “The funeral? For-For who? For that thing back there?”

Jonathan huffed. “Let me get this straight. Will, that’s not his body because he’s in the lights, right? And there’s a monster in the wall? Do you even hear yourself?”

“I know it sounds crazy. I sound crazy! Don’t you think I know that? It is crazy! But I heard him, Jonathan, he talked to me! Will is calling to me! And he’s out there, and he’s alone, and he’s scared, and I-I don’t care if anyone believes me. I am not going to stop looking for him until I find him and bring him home. I am going to bring him home!” She immediately turned on her heel and walked the other way.

“Yeah, well, while you’re talking to the lights, the rest of us are having a funeral for Will!” Jonathan shouted to her back. “I am not letting him sit in that freezer another day!”

You looked around at all the people that gathered around, watching the argument take place. “Alright, show’s over!” you shouted at them, grabbing Jonathan’s arm and pulling him away from the scene.

***

You nearly fell asleep listening to the monotonous voice of the worker who led you around and explained in painful detail the intricate nature of each coffin. However, the nature of the situation kept you from drifting off, keeping you stuck in the nauseating situation.

As the worker led you over to the more expensive coffins, Nancy appeared in the entrance of the mortuary. “Can you give us a second?” Jonathan asked the worker before stepping over to her, leaving you to follow behind him. “Hey,” he voiced to her, a questioning lilt in his voice.

“Hey,” she sighed. “Your mom, um, said you guys would be here. I just... Can we talk for a second?”

The three of you stepped out of the room and into the hallway, sitting at one of the benches against the wall. Hesitantly, she reached into her bag and pulled out a paper.

One of Jonathan’s ripped up photos, to be exact, that was taped back together.

She handed it to Jonathan, who held it between you and him so you both could look at it. “I-I don’t get it,” you whispered, looking over at her. “I don’t see anything.”

“Look at where Barb is,” she explained, reaching out and tracing a finger along the right side of the photo.

Upon closer inspection, you noticed an odd... figure, looming above Barb. It was at least ten feet tall, and definitely didn’t look human.

“It looks like it could be some kind of perspective distortion, but I wasn’t using wide angle,” Jonathan spoke, his brows furrowing. “I don’t know. It’s weird.” He handed the photo back to her.

She sighed. “And you’re sure you didn’t see anyone else out there?”

“No. And she was there one second and then... Gone. I figured she bolted.”

“The cops think that she ran away. But they don’t know Barb.”

“Could she have gone into the woods and gotten lost and...” you began but trailed off, not daring to say the word, especially in the place that you were.

She shook her head, sighing. “I doubt it. When I went back to Steve’s, I thought I saw something. Some... weird man or... I don’t know what it was.”

“Did it look like the thing in the photo?”

She shrugged. “Maybe, kinda. I... I can’t really tell.” She stared off into space, stuck in her thoughts for a moment. “I’m sorry. I... I shouldn’t have come here today. I’m so sorry.”

She stood and gathered her things, walking towards the exit.

“What’d he look like?” Jonathan voiced suddenly.

She stopped and turned on her heel. “What?”

“The man you saw in the woods. What’d he look like?”

“I-I don’t know. It was almost like he... He didn’t have-”

“Didn’t have a face?” you and Jonathan inquired at the same time.

She looked at you two strangely. “How did you guys know that?”

You and Jonathan shared a look before rising to your feet. “We’ll explain later. We need to go,” you voiced, grabbing Jonathan’s hand and leading you both out the door and to the car.

“Y/N-” Jonathan began as he got in the car.

“Barb disappeared the same night as the vigil. That night was when the lights were flickering and the face appeared. That can’t be a coincidence.”

“What are you thinking?”

You sighed. “Maybe this... when this thing appears, weird things start to happen. Maybe that’s why I didn’t see that thing when I was at your house, because it was somewhere else. A-And when Joyce saw the thing, maybe something weird was happening somewhere else?” You shook your head, burying your face in your hands. “And when Will disappeared...”

“When Will disappeared? What happened?”

You shook your head. “I’ll explain later. Just... We need to get Nancy. You still have the photos right?”

***

You sat on one of the benches in the dark room, wrapping your arms around yourself as Jonathan laid one of the photos against a microscope-looking machine. “And you are...” Nancy questioned, seeming just as confused as you.

“Brightening, enlarging,” he explained, messing with a few dials and knobs.

“Hmm,” you responded. He picked up another, smaller microscope-looking tool and placed it against the photo slide, examining it.

“Did your mom say anything else?” Nancy asked. “Like, um, where it might have gone to, or...”

Jonathan shook his head. “No, just that it came out of the wall,” he responded. He reached up and flicked a lever before sitting back up. He picked up the blank photo sheet and brought it over to a vat of fluid, gently placing it inside and sloshing the liquid around.

“How long does this take?”

“Not long.”

“Yet you always hide in here for hours,” you teased, staring at the sheet of photo paper.

“So you’ve been... doing this a while?” Nancy hummed.

“What?” he asked.

“Photography.”

He shrugged. “Yeah. I guess I’d rather observe people than, you know...”

“Talk to them,” you and Nancy completed his sentence, earning a chuckle from both of you.

“I know. It’s weird.”

“No!” she insisted.

“No, it is. It’s just sometimes... People don’t really say what they’re thinking. But you capture the right moment... It says more.”

“What was I saying?”

“What?”

“When you took my picture.”

You let out a quiet sigh, slouching forward and staring at the ground.

“I shouldn’t have taken that picture,” Jonathan sighed. “I’m uh... I’m sorry. It’s just-”

“That’s it!” Nancy announced, staring into the vat. “That’s what I saw!”

You sat up and looked inside, eyes growing wide.

“My mom,” Jonathan whispered. “I thought she was crazy ‘cause she said that’s not Will’s body. That he’s alive.”

“And if he’s alive-”

“Then Barbara.”

“It’s out there somewhere,” you whispered. “It has to be. I mean, it comes once a day, at least. There could be more.”

“More what?”

“Missing people.”

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inawickedlittletown · 4 years

Text

I’m With You (15/?)

Summary:

Having a crush was nothing to be ashamed of…lying to the family and friends of said crush about being the guy’s boyfriend, that was a whole other problem. When Buck saves the life of Andrew Diaz and accidentally makes a nurse think that he’s Andrew’s boyfriend, Buck soon finds himself lying to Andrew’s firefighter friends/coworkers as well as Andrew’s family including Andrew’s very suspicious and attractive brother, Eddie.

Based on the 1995 movie While You Were Sleeping.

Words: 3,384

Notes: This chapter was originally over 6k long, so during editing when I found a particularly good stopping point I decided to cut it into two. That also meant that i could post this today and not once I finish editing the rest of what used to be this chapter. So, here we are. Enjoy.

Read on Ao3

Masterpost

Previous Chapter

–

The first person to call Buck’s new phone was Hen and he agreed to meet with her for coffee after he left the hospital because she insisted that they go and because Chimney had overheard the conversation on her end, he invited himself too. For good measure, Buck had gone ahead and invited Josh along.

“I just wanted to see how you were doing,” Hen said. “Christopher getting hurt on your watch must have felt horrible.”

“It did,” Buck admitted. And it was still bothering him a little. He knew logically it wasn’t his fault, but Christopher had been crying and whimpering in pain and Buck should have been able to protect him from it. Seeing him and how well he was handling his healing wrist had made Buck feel a little better.

“What happened?” Josh asked.

Buck explained with Hen piping in.

“It was just a sprained wrist,” Chimney said. “Very minor, right Hen?”

She nodded. “And things like that can happen at any time, especially with kids with CP. It’s really not your fault, Buck.”

“I know,” Buck said. Eddie didn’t even blame him for it. “It still sucked.”

Hen pat his hand on the table. “I know. I remember the first time Denny got hurt — I don’t know who was crying more, Denny or Karen.”

Chimney and Buck grinned at each other and Josh laughed. Some of the weight from what happened to Christopher fell away as Hen started asking Josh questions about dispatch and Josh had plenty of stories.

Eventually, the topic switched over to Andrew.

“I stopped by last night,” Josh said. “He’s getting discharged tomorrow, right?”

Buck nodded. He didn’t want to think about it too much. When Eddie had told him while they were visiting Andrew, Buck had tried not to show how panicked it made him to hear it. It was just that so far things had been a little strange. Andrew had to know Buck wasn’t his boyfriend...or if he didn’t know, he likely suspected something, and yet he wasn’t questioning anything and instead acting like Buck was his boyfriend. It was strange.

Josh met his eyes and there was a question there about what was happening that Buck couldn’t answer.

“That’s good, then,” Josh said. “He’ll be back to normal in no time.”

“Yeah,” Buck said. Everything would go back to normal. Including how much Buck didn’t belong.

“We should throw him a welcome party,” Hen said. “I don’t want to overstep, Buck, but it’d be nice to get everyone together to welcome him home. Think it’s alright to do at his place?”

Chim looked like he was having too much fun with that going by the way he wiggled his eyebrows at Buck. Josh coughed to hide his amusement and it was lucky that Hen didn’t realize what they were on about.

“Uh, that sounds like a good idea,” Buck said.

“Good, good,” Hen said and then she started to plan.

“She loves a good welcome back party,” Chimney explained. “In our line of work there’s always someone out for an injury. And I’m sure we’ll have another party when he gets back to work.”

Hen nodded with a small smile.

Buck was struck yet again by how much love there was among these people whose lives he’d shoved himself into. Something about it must have shown on his face because Josh nudged him.

“Okay?” he mouthed at him.

Buck nodded. Hen was talking about picking up a cake and Chimney was texting and presumably inviting anyone that should be at a welcome home party for Andrew.

“Eddie says he won’t be discharged until sometime tomorrow and he can stall bringing him to the house for a little while if we need him to,” Hen said. “Good thing we’re not on shift tomorrow.”

“And look at that, neither am I,” Josh said.

They looked to Buck. “Working early in the morning,” he said and it wasn’t something he could miss after the day of work that he’d already missed this week.

“And we have to clean up the place a bit?” Hen asked, looking at Buck.

“I did a bit of cleaning yesterday when I stopped by to feed Legolas but it’s still a bit of a mess after the earthquake.”

“Okay,” Hen said. “So we’ll have to get there early to set up.”

Buck nodded along and as all the details were ironed out, he tried to figure out if maybe this party might end up being the perfect time for him to come clean. They would all be there and he could explain the whole thing. And then when it was all over he could walk away and maybe things wouldn’t be that bad. If Buck mentally prepared himself for it, then it would be okay even if it hurt. It was definitely going to hurt.

Josh hung back after Hen and Chimney headed off. “So, what is going on? Like, the truth?”

“I have no idea. He doesn’t remember everything yet so I’m pretty sure he just thinks he’s forgotten me. The whole thing is messed up but I have to tell him, right? I can’t let him keep trying to remember me when he won’t be able to? I just haven’t been alone with him since that one day when he was pushing me to become a firefighter and I don’t even know what to make of that. I just — this is so weird.”

Josh pulled him into a hug. “Everything will be okay, Buck. Even if it blows up in your face. I’ll still be your friend.”

“Thanks,” Buck said and he meant it because he needed to know that he wouldn’t lose everyone.

“And I don’t think you’ll lose everyone either after it all comes out,” Josh said.

Buck didn’t agree, but he didn’t feel like arguing that point.

He and Josh parted ways and Buck headed towards his Jeep.

—-

Eddie went on his own to pick Andrew up from the hospital because everyone else including Abuela and Pepa were at Andrew’s house for the surprise welcome home party. When he arrived at the hospital room, Andrew hadn’t been discharged yet.

“Waiting on the doctor,” Andrew explained.

So Eddie sat down. “And how are you doing? Remembering more?”

“A bit,” Andrew said and then after a short moment, “quite a bit.”

“The dog? Buck?” Eddie asked at once and maybe he was a little too eager.

Andrew chuckled. “I don’t even like Lord of the Rings, Eddie. I have no idea whose dog that is.”

“I thought you liked the movies. Wait, you used to read the books when we were kids...and I remember a very long rant about The Hobbit movies”

Andrew just blinked at him. “I don’t remember everything,” he said with a shrug. “But, I remembered your ex. Christopher’s mother.”

“You don’t remember your own boyfriend, but you remember her,” Eddie said incredulously.

Andrew chuckled. “He’s great, though, isn’t he? Buck. I really like him. I haven’t gotten to spend too much time alone with him, but as far as I can tell he’s a pretty great guy and I wouldn’t be here without him, would I? I was actually trying to push him into joining the LAFD. I think it would be a great fit for him, wouldn’t you?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, I guess it would be.”

“And he’s nice to look at, isn’t he? Really well fit, I’ve been meaning to ask him about his workout routine. Everyone seems to like him. I kind of get it, I guess, even if I don’t remember. Mom and dad seem to like him more than your ex.”

It wasn’t surprising that Andrew liked Buck. Somewhere deep down, Andrew probably did remember how he felt about Buck — his attraction to Buck. And that made Eddie’s jaw clench a little and make him want to snap at Andrew. Mostly it also made Eddie a horrible person and a horrible brother. He had no claim on Buck. He had no right to be upset about the way that Andrew talked about Buck.

“Anyway, I don’t remember him, but what I know of him now I like. Did you know he lived in South America for a while? He didn’t say where but I think it’s so cool that he did his own thing and just went where he wanted to. I admire him for it.”

Eddie couldn’t remember if he’d known that about Buck or not.

“And considering the coffee he makes, I can only imagine how good he is at mixing drinks,” Andrew said and he looked thoughtful for a moment. “Also, I keep meaning to ask if that’s a scar on his eyebrow or something else. I can’t remember, obviously, but it suits him, don’t you think?”

Eddie tampered down the possessive monster inside of him that wanted nothing more than to stop Andrew from continuing to talk about Buck as if he actually knew him and as if he liked him or felt more for him even though of course Andrew felt that way about Buck. They were dating. Eddie was just...he was stupid enough to not have good control over his feelings.

“It’s a birthmark, I think,” Eddie said and tried to be nonchalant.

“Must be why it fits him so well,” Andrew said with a decisive nod.

Eddie wanted the doctor to get there and discharge Andrew already. He checked his phone. Hen was giving him the okay to bring Andrew home. Eddie couldn’t help but wonder if Buck would stick around at Andrew’s place, if he was looking forward to having him out of the hospital. Eddie had to push those thoughts away.

“Have you spoken to mom and dad?” Eddie asked, making the effort to change the subject.

“Yes,” Andrew said. “Got my phone charged so I got caught up on a few things and called them. She’s been texting me practically every hour.”

“That’s mom,” Eddie said. “She worries.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

It was another twenty minutes before a doctor finally appeared with the discharge papers and instructions to do with the headaches that Andrew was still having. He had some meds to take for the pain, but he was essentially in good health other than the memory loss.

“Finally,” Andrew said when they were out of the hospital and walking to Eddie’s car.

Weirdly as much as Eddie was glad that his brother was finally out of the hospital and okay, he also hated him a little. Eddie was cognizant of himself enough to realize that at least some of that was to do with Buck and the feelings that sat on his chest and didn’t seem keen on leaving.

“I remember your car,” Andrew said somewhat cheerily. “And I drive—” he took a moment to think about it.

The same moment in which Eddie had to wonder about why none of them had thought to think of Andrew’s car. Eddie should have been the one to think about that and maybe he would have if the hospital had given him Andrew’s things. And actually, come to think of it, Buck hadn’t given them Andrew’s keys even though he was probably the one that had them.

“I drive a Jeep,” Andrew said.

Until Andrew said it, Eddie hadn’t even thought about how Buck and Andrew drove the same type of car. Maybe it was yet another thing that had bonded them. Seeing all those connections, the way that Andrew didn’t remember Buck but already seemed entirely fond of him, it made him want to scream.

“You do,” Eddie said but refrained from telling him that his car had probably been towed in the unlikely event that it wasn’t still wherever Andrew had parked it.

—-

So maybe Andrew was messing with Eddie a little. It was just that Andrew wanted to know for sure if what he’d seen on Eddie the other day was more than admiration for Buck but something deeper. And from the way that Eddie seemed to be both a bit quieter and a bit stiff that he was in his head about something. Likely Buck.

It was interesting. A bit ironic in a way, too, and Andrew had figured out how he was going to punish Buck for what he’d done. If it messed with his brother a bit too, well, that was just a nice side effect.

The drive over to his house was a little familiar and then when Eddie parked, he knew which house was his. Slowly things filled themselves into his head. It was weird the way that things would just fit into place and he knew them. Maybe, it was going to be the same once he saw the dog. Legolas. His phone had given him next to no information about the dog. Andrew didn’t even have pictures of him.

“Familiar?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah,” Andrew said. “It’s home.”

As the words left his mouth, though, they didn’t feel true and Andrew didn’t know what to make of that because this was his home.

“My car isn’t here,” Andrew said when he paused at the bottom of the steps.

Eddie grimaced. “About that,” he said. “We, um, we forgot about it.”

“You forgot about it,” Andrew said.

“Look, I will take care of everything. I think Pepa assumed Buck would have done it but we were all a bit distracted with you in a coma and everything. But I’ll figure all of that out tomorrow.”

Andrew couldn’t even really be mad. It was the whole Buck problem rearing its head again.

They walked up the steps and Andrew noticed that there were a few cracks on the concrete that he knew hadn’t been there before. And when Eddie opened the door, it didn’t glide in like usual. Andrew barely had time to focus on that though because the last thing Andrew expected was to step inside and have everyone yell “Surprise!”

—-

Christopher still had a bandage around his wrist and it was a reminder to Buck of what he’d allowed to happen even if no one else blamed him for it. Not even Christopher who had hugged Buck when he first arrived at Andrew’s house with Isabel and Pepa and then followed him around and tried to help him with whatever Buck was doing.

Isabel had recently been in the hospital too after a bad fall, but she was doing fine and she’d only gone because she hadn’t been able to get up on her own and she thought she might have injured her hip but she’d had her phone close by and managed a call to 9-1-1. Mostly, Pepa was keeping her seated and comfortable because the fall had left her bruised up. It made Buck hesitate on wanting to tell everyone the truth, but then again most things made him rethink it and too much time had passed. Buck needed to tell them.

“You look like you’re worrying about something,” Josh said.

“I’m telling them,” Buck said. “Today.”

Josh raised an eyebrow at him and pat his shoulder. “Things have been going so well lately, do you really want to just blow that up?”

“Andrew is going to remember everything any day now. Him coming home is just going to make that process even faster and then what?”

Josh sighed. “Look, there’s things you don’t—”

“Josh, I can’t keep lying,” Buck said. “It’s too...it’s different now that he’s awake. This has gone on way too long.”

“Yeah, I get that, but maybe wait a little longer or I don’t know, have you considered talking to Andrew and explaining.”

The idea of talking to Andrew about it first had merit, but Buck just didn’t know if would be possible for Buck to do it during a party that meant that Andrew would likely be surrounded by people all the time.

“Maybe,” Buck said.

Hen was the one to get the text that Eddie and Andrew were on their way from the hospital which meant that the last minute details had to be worked out.

“Is she like this at every party?” Buck asked.

Athena chuckled. “Surprise parties, yes. Easier to go along with whatever she wants though.”

Karen nodded in agreement. Buck took it in, the way that Athena smiled and the way that Karen nodded even while he eyes shone with pride and love for her wife. He was going to miss them. He was going to miss all of them.

Legolas started barking when they heard Eddie and Andrew outside and Buck had to wonder if that was because the dog knew that his owner was home. When Eddie opened the door, everyone shouted “surprise!” and Andrew looked taken aback.

“Seriously?” Andrew asked through a laugh.

“We had to,” Hen said and she was the first one to rush over and hug him.

Buck’s attention was on Legolas who did rush over but only sniffed at Andrew before jumping at Eddie who pet his head lightly before Legolas turned back to Andrew. It was curious. Legolas had been more excited to see Christopher when he first got to the house and if Buck was allowed to think it, the dog had been more excited to see him. But Andrew was his owner...his person and the dog was treating him just like anyone else.

Eddie had said it a lot though, Andrew didn’t like dogs. Maybe Legolas could sense that. The whole it was getting more and more confusing. If Buck didn’t know any better that dog had insinuated himself into Andrew’s life just like Buck had.

Andrew hugged Pepa and walked over to the couch to hug Isabel and then his eyes found Buck. Buck didn’t know what to do. Did he rush over and hug him or did he wait to see what Andrew would do. He decided to leave it up to Andrew.

“Hey,” Andrew said.

Buck felt like everyone was watching them. Tentatively, Buck moved towards Andrew. He smiled and went in for a quick hug, the kind that was awkward and unsure because Buck had no idea how familiar he was allowed to be. Andrew leaned into the hug, but he didn’t linger, pulling back and ending the hug quick as it had begun.

“Really?” Hen asked.

“What?” Buck said.

“That hug was pathetic,” Hen said with a roll of her eyes. “It’s no wonder he doesn’t remember you if you can’t even hug him properly. Your boyfriend is home, Buck, you should be kissing him...I bet you haven’t even done that and he’s been awake for a while now.” There was judgement in her eyes at least instead of suspicion.

Buck felt his cheeks go warm. He didn’t know what to say and over Andrew’s shoulder he met Chim’s eyes who looked like he found the whole thing hilarious and couldn’t wait to poke fun at the situation. No one else stepped forward to welcome Andrew home.

“Uh, not doing that in front of all his family,” Buck said in a low tone.

His eyes met Andrew’s and because they were still standing close enough, it didn’t take Andrew any effort at all to take Buck’s hand and pull him even closer.

“What—”

Andrew made a show of rolling his eyes, he was smirking too in a strangely knowing way, the twists of his lips making it seem like he was accepting a challenge and then he drew Buck even closer and he kissed him.

It was chaste, more of a peck than anything else and it lasted seconds and afterwards Andrew laughed and he threw an arm around Buck’s shoulders. Buck felt lost, like he had no idea what had just happened or why. The next few moments were a blur of standing close to Andrew who’s lips had felt fluffy and soft even while chapped, and who was still undeniably hot even after just getting out of the hospital. Kissing him was no hardship and a part of Buck — the part that still had a bit of a crush — wanted the kiss to last longer than it did. The trance was broken only once Andrew let him go and stepped back and then he was gone.

–

Next Chapter

Notes: Sooo, did any of you expect things to go there? I just love Andrew sooo much and he was particularly fun to write in this chapter. Let me know what you all thought and thanks for reading.

If anyone wants to be tagged in future chapters, let me know. :)

Tagging: @tranquility-or-chaos @diazbuckleysworld @stilesgivesmefeels

#911 fox #911 fic #buddie #buddie fic #buck x eddie #911 fox fic #fic #my fic #I'm With You

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altumvidetur · 4 years

Text

MCU Daredevil: MattFoggy Fic Recs

MCU Fic Recs Masterpost

So, I was thinking about the coronavirus pandemic and what I could do to help people out. I’m isolated because I’m at higher risk, so I can’t really offer to go out for my elderly neighbors or my family… but I thought I could try to help keep people entertained.

Because I don’t have an AO3 account right now, I’ve been compiling fic recs for my own amusement for a year or so. And I thought – maybe that’s the time to share these with everyone? So everyone will have plenty of things to read while they have to stay at home, or even to escape anxiety a little bit if you’re forced to go out.

Of course, these cater to my own tastes, so you may find stuff you don’t like around here. I never include works in progress. The Mature and Explicit works will be in italic. I ask you to READ THE WORK’S TAGS before continuing, so you won’t find anything that makes you uncomfortable.

I didn’t actually watch season 3 of Daredevil, so my recs are all from before that. I still plan to watch, so please take that into account when interacting with this post!

Fitter. Happier. More Productive., by what_alchemy

Matt tries to let go. He's not too good at it.

through the bookcase, imagining a scene, by returnsandreturns

“He’s back,” Karen says, making Foggy jump and drop his armful of books. She winces and drops down immediately to help him pick them up.

“Matt?” Foggy asks. It’s an optimistic guess—there are a lot of guys who could be back, like the guy who sits in a study carrel and eats peanut butter out of a jar with his hands and Uncomfortable Religious Missionary Guy, who is actually three different guys.

“Yep,” she replies, nodding and widening her eyes when she grins. “He’s flirting with the circulation ladies, which means you’ve got just enough time to steal my shift at the reference desk before he gets there.”

The Constellation of Touch, by what_alchemy

Months after Fisk is put away, nothing's right between the partners at Nelson and Murdock. But Christmas is here, and Matt is still expected at the Nelson house.

you won’t get better till you’re worse, by annperkinsface

The road to forgiveness has a lot of vodka.

my name on your lips, by unnecessary

It starts when Matt and Marci have coffee. Then Foggy and Claire have coffee. Then Claire throws a Christmas party, and really, it isn't like Foggy means to keep almost confessing to Matt, but can anyone really blame him?

I Decided This, by patster223

“I’m contributing yet another lovely sign to our office,” Foggy says, brandishing the finished product with a flourish. Matt can’t see the sign, but he can probably sense the flourish, which is what matters. “It says, ‘It has been ‘0’ days since Matt made an idiotic decision.’”

“Doesn’t seem like it will inspire much trust from our clients.”

What the sign instead inspires: debates, understanding, a patented Murdock-level guilt trip, ice cream celebrations, a kiss, and perhaps even a way to finally move forward.

We Just Lost the Beat, by knight_tracer and lady_ragnell

Matt hears a lot in the city at night, sirens and crime--and the late-night radio show Foggy With a Chance, which sometimes runs a Daredevil Watch if he's been particularly active, but which mostly plays music. He probably shouldn't call in and request a song, but he does it anyway.

I’ll Most Likely Kill You in the Morning, by inkfingers_mcgee

Foggy and Matt never met at school. They cross paths for the first time while working opposite sides of a case, and Matt doesn't leave an impression beyond the superficial: a blind, pro-bono crusader who Foggy will feel really guilty about having to oppose in court one of these days. Seemed like a nice guy, but no one Foggy will worry about a week later.

He has more important things on his mind, like the masked vigilante who keeps cornering him in dark alleys to threaten him for information.

Touch Me, Don’t Feel Me, by fabella

Foggy struggles to navigate a casual sexual relationship with Matt after the events of season two. It's predictably complicated.

Hold Me Fast and Fear Me Not, by lady_ragnell

Something in New York has everyone walking around with iron in their pockets, and it seems like the vigilante they're calling the Devil of Hell's Kitchen is at the center of it all. Foggy knows how to steer clear of that kind of trouble, but when the Devil seeks him out, he ends up in the middle of it with him.

A Janet and Tam Lin AU.

jump, check parachute, by augustbird

Foggy Nelson: good at law, terrible at feelings.

Just Wanna Take Him Home, by lady_ragnell

Foggy mostly takes little old ladies to parties doing escort jobs, which he's fine with.

Getting hired to spend two hours hugging a lawyer is kind of a departure. He should have known it would all get complicated fast.

Daredevils Don’t Drink Decaf, by ChuckleVoodoos

“I really, really want to make a joke about bats and blindness. Will you punch me if I make a joke about bats and blindness?” Matt shakes his head, grinning. “Okay, so we’re Superspud and Blind-As-A-Batman.”

In which Foggy uses his law degree to peddle coffee to unsuspecting caffeine junkies, and Matt is his favorite customer. Who may or may not be Batman.

Say You’ll Still Be By My Side, by lady_ragnell

Bless me, Foggy, for I have sinned.

Eres Mi Grande Avocado, by ChuckleVoodoos

Matt's got this way of speaking in Spanish that's just a little different than his way of speaking in English. In English, all of Matt's words are carefully weighed and measured and cut like crystal. They're precious but planned. With Spanish, the words seem to fall like drops of liquid gold, hot and rich and wild, and it makes Foggy want to gather them to himself and finally be warm.

Gazelle, Lion, Gun, by ChuckleVoodoos

The Devil of Hell's Kitchen has got some competition. Sassy sharpshooters do not make good crime-fighting partners, except that they really do.

Dream Catcher, by ChuckleVoodoos

When Matt has nightmares, so does Foggy. Unfortunately, Matt has a lot of nightmares. Even when he's not asleep.

Or: Matt visits Foggy after the bombings, and it doesn't go well.

Red Cross, by ChuckleVoodoos

Foggy is perfectly happy being a law-abiding physician with a weakness for cupcakes.

No one else seems to understand this.

Rocky Horror Pancake Show, by ChuckleVoodoos

Foggy falls asleep at exactly 12:00 AM, and he’s making a wish. He wakes up at 12:00 AM too—twenty-four hours before he fell asleep.

"Let's do the time warp again!"

The Boxer-Puncher, by one_flying_ace

“Matt, you’re my best friend, but you’re a goddamn idiot sometimes. It’s not about you. I’m not training, I’m not looking to get in a ring or do what you do. I just wanted to know a little more.” He says it fiercely, strongly, right into Matt’s ear like that’ll get it through to him any easier. “It’s not like I’m any good at it,” he adds, which is probably a mistake.

His heartbeat definitely spikes on the lie, because Matt flinches.

if ever joy surrounds you (you have to let it), by KiaraSayre

"I mean, I did think that maybe vigilantism is actually good for you in terms of, like, self-actualization or whatever, but - have you been seeing a therapist or something? Good talks with your priest?"

(Or, it's weird how weird things aren't between Matt and Foggy. Particularly when they're talking about boners.)

That Spin I’m In, by Werelibrarian and poisonivory

"What does that mean?" Matt asks Strange.

"Well, that depends," Strange says, unfolding his legs and letting his feet touch the floor again. Matt gets the distinct impression Strange is hedging. "Are you currently suffering heartbreak?"

Matt very carefully doesn't think about Elektra. Or Karen. Or Foggy. "Let's leave my personal life out of this."

Strange clears his throat. "Yes, well, that option may no longer be on the table."

Matt really hates magic.

How Your Heart Pounds Inside Me, by poisonivory

Hiring a surrogate alpha is supposed to be the simplest way to get through a heat - and Matt doesn't want to risk his heart again, not after the last time. But nothing in Matt's life is ever simple, and when his surrogate turns up again to oppose both Matt Murdock, Attorney-at-Law and the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, it's more than just Matt's heart at risk.

Just Our Hands Clasped So Tight, by poisonivory

If there's one thing Foggy Nelson knows about Matt Murdock, it's how tactile he is.

Will You, by poisonivory

Foggy's always joking when he asks Matt to marry him. Matt's always serious when he says yes.

- OR -

Five proposals Foggy forgot, and one Matt makes sure he'll remember.

Stay In My Arms (If You Dare), by poisonivory

The Defenders are the most elite bodyguard agency in the world. When Wilson Fisk's personal attorney Foggy Nelson walks in looking for protection from a mysterious man in black, Matt Murdock is more than happy to take Mr. Nelson's safety in hand. But Nelson's guilt is hard to prove, and Matt may have gotten himself in too deep - especially once someone besides the man in black starts gunning for his client.

I Would Know You by Touch Alone, by unnecessary

It doesn’t matter if Matt has a soulmate, because if he does, it’s not Foggy.

Written for this prompt on the kink meme: “Foggy’s soulmate mark is raised birthmarks that read ‘Matt’ in Braille.”

...Aaaaaand a series within the Spider-Gwen universe:

The Lawyer All the Wickedness, by poisonivory

(Summary by me: in which Foggy is, at turns, angered, baffled and aroused by scumbag defense attorney Matt Murdock.)

#daredevil #mcu #mattfoggy #fic recs #matt murdock #foggy nelson #otp: avocados at law #please warn me if any links are broken #and reblog it if you can so more people will see it

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har-rison-s · 4 years

Text

heaven: 17

never let her go

request/plot: Stan x Reader where they were together back in Derry and kind of forgot about each other after moving away but they always had a void in their lives. And then when Stan is just about to do it after Mikes call his phone rings and it’s you and you’re crying after just getting off the phone with Mike to come to Derry. You both end up going back and seeing each other at the restaurant and you guys just catch up after all these years that passed and old feelings come back.

A/N: Well hell to the low to you guys! I've missed being on here, and I'm so fucking glad that I'm back to writing and I actually have nothing else to do, really, except write. Oh, and fight for justice online, get to packing and moving and go to work. But other than that, I'm free as of right now. I came back to the document for this fic, and turns out I have material enough to post 2 whole chapters in a row. So, let's go. I'm glad you're all still here and I welcome every new-comer with hugs and kisses! So, happy quarantine reading and stay safe! Don't you ever forget - #BlackLivesMatter!

A/N: Also, quick note: if you're uncomfortable with me posting another chapter of Heaven or posting any writings at all, please don't hesitate to let me know. Writing, especially during times like these, and when I don't get any positive income from the real world or social media, writing is what helps me, and I think reading fics means you dive into another world, sometimes a better world, and you can live another life in them and feel better; I also know writing has helped some people fall asleep. That's why I'm posting. Again, if that makes you uncomfortable/you think I'm injust with posting, please let me know!

warnings: shorter than usual, water, over-thinking (lots)

word count: 2.2k

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IT masterlist

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A/N: Where are my more gifs and pics of Andy Bean rights huh??

gif credit goes to owner, which isn't me!

Oh, is clean water good. Clean, warm, soapy water. Better than sex, she even dares to think. She smiles to herself at the thought. Stanley looks at her, a soft question in his eyes. Not the sex she has with him. She shakes her head, and then rests it against his wet chest. The shower’s water streams down onto them, warm and welcoming, warm and soothing, warm and healing. It collects their hair into dark, thick locks. The shower’s floor shines with water that is now filthy from all the dirt on their bodies.

Bill collected all their dirty clothing and went to wash it in the hotel’s washing machines. He’d get to shower the last, but he didn’t mind. All of them using water at once wouldn’t be useful, either, but that he’ll leave it to their concern. Mike offered to use his washing machine at the Library, but since he lives quite far from the Derry Inn, they all decided to pass this suggestion.

Y/N’s palms are flat against Stanley’s bare back. It’s littered with birthmarks all over, Y/N discovers when she feels small, almost unnoticeable bumps under her fingers. Stanley, instead, opens the shampoo bottle the hotel offers and squeezes half of it out into his hand. He then runs his shampoo-y hands into Y/N’s hair, against her scalp. She hums. Stanley moves the shampoo into her hair, massaging circles into her scalp. She smiles softly at the gesture.

He does the same to his own hair, and Y/N chuckles at how weird he looks with his hair slicked back. “Reminds me of your Bar Mitzvah hair.” She says and Stanley gives her an airy chuckle in response. He remembers his mom’s effort and frustration into gelling his unbending acorn curls down neatly to his head.

“That was horrible.”

“No, no, that was a statement.” She corrects him and they both laugh. Her arms around him, hands on his back and his arms around her waist, hands interlocked to keep her intact in his embrace, they look up dreamily at each other. The water frustrates their eyes a small bit, making them blink more than usual.

Gazing into each other’s eyes transmits more emotions between them than they could muster to say in the same amount of time. Words really are hard to find to say all that Stanley could say to Y/N, about how much she means to him, about how he can’t breathe without her, how he needs her, how he wants to cherish her and love her for the rest of his life, and how he wishes they never parted. He also wants to say a big thank you for giving his strength, courage and self-belief back simply by talking, by being with him. He could not have gotten into this shower-bathtub, for example, without her help, without her words. Let alone Derry or Neibolt House.

Y/N would like to tell Stanley how grateful she is for his love, and that it is he who loves her. She would want to let him know that he’s the most important person in her life, that he means the most to her, and that she’d do anything to turn back time and relive her—their both’s—life differently, together. Happy.

How happy, how much more happier they’d be if things had turned out differently. And she wants to tell him how grateful she is for him to be here, right now, as well as tell him how privileged she is to love him, and to have him love her back, how privileged it is to hold his hand and look into his eyes.

But to not waste any emotional and physical material, they suffice with a simple—

“I love you.” She tells him in a quiet whisper. It almost drowns with the water in the dark drain of the sewer pipes. She leans up to kiss his lips. She can taste the coffee he drank earlier still, and the water. She smiles, and she kisses him again. And again. She chases his lips with hers, her hands pushing against him slowly, not at once, but slowly, begging. She kisses him, and she almost melts.

Stanley moves her rogue hair strands out of her face, and holds her cheek while looking into her eyes. His orbs move back and forth only the slightest. A corner of his lips raises ever so slightly. “I love you.” He assures her and kisses her again. He then kisses her forehead and pulls her into an embrace against his chest. Even his chest hairs have flattened down from the water, she can barely feel them against her cheek. She closes her eyes, and so does Stanley.

Something about the way he holds her, something about the way he shuts his eyes when he does. Thoughts of what is to come creep into his mind now, despite how badly he wants them not to. What if this is the last time I have her to myself? Selfish to think of her like that, but… She’s the most beautiful angel I’ve met in my life. I want to spend my entire life with her, I want to give her what I did not for the twenty years spent apart. What if, when I go back home, my mind will be changed about her? What if we’ll forget each other again, like last time?

But what if you don’t go home, Stanley? Maybe go to her home, or go home with her. Not your home, but one that would belong to you both. And Patty? What of her? Do I not call her or visit her? Do I just leave her in the dark? I can’t do that to her. After all we’ve been through, after loving one another for so long… After being married, and happily at that, after her trusting me so much…

Do you still love Patty as you did before Mike called you? As you did when she helped you pack clothes and essentials for this trip? How will you tell her you’ve met the love of your life, the love of your childhood again and made love to her in another city, another state? Another place, or void, completely foreign and strange to Patty and her whole life, and how she knows life in general? It will break her. Would it be better if you didn’t tell her at all? No, no, I can’t leave her wondering in the dark.

What if you love them both? What do you do then? Marry Y/N and live together as three married people? That’s complete craziness, Stanley. You can’t do that. But if I can’t choose… If I can’t choose between the two women I love most, what do I do then? Leave them both and live alone? Or should I choose? Which option would be better for everyone involved? Do I choose to be selfish and choose Y/N or Patty for the rest of my life? That’s only fair to me, and I can’t stand by that. But…

Stanley can’t live without Y/N. Maybe it’s just what he thinks now because he’s met her again, but then again—there wouldn’t be these feelings if there wasn’t an old cause for them, old roots grow out of something, not nothing. And they do have roots. Childhood. High school. Before college. The first year of college. Then it faded away… But these feelings are still here, they’re still real, present and true. They’re as intense as before, if not more. It is beyond love and belonging and craving, it is far more than they as mortal humans can understand, can know that they feel. He can only give her the tip of the iceberg that is his whole love, emotions and feelings for him. He can only do so much with his human mind and body.

But Patty… He loves Patty so much. They’ve been married for more than ten years, and found solace in each other. They loved each other even when they could not get children, they loved each other when they’ve woken up to a sour day, they loved each other even when they drive each other nuts (which is rare in their earthly, calm marriage). What fun have they had in these happy, peaceful years… Stanley would not trade it for the world. Ah, then and there, maybe. But here and now...

He doesn’t know. He can’t decide.

But somehow… The marriage ring that lays in the drawer of this hotel room’s nightstand, it feels like an anchor. And it feels old, as well, as strange as it sounds. Old, as if Stanley had lived in a past life with that ring and the person who carries the other ring, the rigs a promise to be man and wife until death do them part.

But it’s not death that will do them part. The happy, peaceful years he lived with Patty were simply years and time that fed on forgetfulness of crucial things such as childhood, and friends, and dreams that little kid Stanley Uris wanted to achieve in life. They were years of tunnel vision, of ignorance, but not his own. His self-consciousness’ ignorance caused by the magical curse IT laid upon Stanley and his friends once they left the town of Derry.

It’s best to think about it on the flight home, not now, about choosing the best option. Shower, heal and spend time with her. Heal together. You’re both still here, so right now you might as well use it selfishly, while you have that. Stanley opens his eyes and looks down at Y/N. The water runs in his eyes a few times. She moves back to look back at him, feeling a slight change in his position. She blinks, because the water gets into her eyes, as well, but she smiles. Stanley does as well, and then he reaches behind her to turn off the shower stream.

Naturally, they both shiver out of loss of warm water, but then hurry out of the bath-shower to wrap themselves in towels. Stanley helps Y/N not fall over on the slippery surface, what with having as many fears as she does. It’s a bath, after all, and he feels they’ll always frighten him a little bit from now on.

They both reach for the towels hanging on the heating pipes, and Y/N hums at the contact with her towel. It’s better than nice, and it’s better than perfect. She feels like falling asleep in this towel. Surprisingly soft for hotel towels.

They dry their hair out as much as they can with single towels, and then wrap the towels around their bodies. Non-verbally, maybe telepathically, they decide to wash their teeth. Stanley uses his own toothbrush and paste, but Y/N uses the tools their hotel provides—in the rush to catch the first flight to Maine she forgot to pack her tooth essentials. How silly and unhygienic of her, you might think. Not in her situation, not this time. Tooth cleaning essentials were really the smallest and most unimportant thing then.

Nor Stanley, nor Y/N speak much. There’s silence between them, tense but peaceful. So many questions nag at both their minds, so many questions they want to ask each other, mostly many uncomfortable questions. Answers to them would be too painful, too frustrating and hard to deal with, in general. Hence the questions are not asked. Many things they’d like to say to each other, but neither of them want to make this a book or movie scene, understand, with confrontation and dramatics. They just… They just really want to be here. They want to live and breathe and move without any complications or heavy-weighing anchors.

Y/N steals a shirt from Stanley, he’s already used it in this trip, and he had folded it to pack into his bag. He snatched his hand after her, but she’d already pulled the shirt over her head and naked breasts and stomach, too late for him to get it back. He looks at her, defeated, and she gives him the tip of her tongue sticking out between her lips. Now he can’t help but smile at her, she never fails to make him smile. With her simple enchanting grace and comedic mannerisms. Sometimes Stanley thinks her funnier than Richie Tozier himself.

Stanley now straightens up in his other button-up and underwear and watches her gracefully waltzing back into the bathroom, only in his shirt and her knickers. He can see wet spots on the shirt’s shoulders and over the breasts and back from her free-falling wet hair strands.

How magnificent is she. Arms like feather wings, legs like intertwining ribbons that dance so easily to their own beat. Hair of a color that reminds him of sunny summer and spring days, as well as dark winter afternoons, autumn mornings. Hands with the pads of cotton, cheeks plump and full of color like bright red roses. Her weight almost non-existent, so light and bird-like she carries herself. Her eyes of eternal kindness, the smile of a thousand little suns. And when you add all that together, it seems unreal, doesn’t it? She does. A fantasy only staying for a few moments until it swims away, to someplace else, to someone else. Stanley sighs.

He cannot let this fantasy go. He cannot let her go.

Permanent tag-list: @gabiatthedisco @v0idbella @inlovewithmiddleagedcelebs @works-of-fanfiction @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @stfxlou @ur-gunna-h8-ths @betweenloveandfire @but-legendsneverdie @deardeacy @thewinchesterchronicles @mavieesttriste16 @langdonzvoid @intrrverted @the-freak-cassie-131 @eddie-spaghetti-boi @anxiousanakin @terratori812 @urban-dreams @beverlyparkerr

Stanley Uris tag-list: @nightbu-g @sadhwstudent @shawni-h @gothackedalready @seasidecrowbar @starred-river @raspberryacid @facelessbish @tozierskaspb @plum-duels @whereyoustand @kimseungminsgf @stanstan-the-manman

Heaven tag-list: @lovvliies @kaspbrak-uris @happy-at-home @jars-of–jupiter @violetzendaya @veronicapuff

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

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mobius-prime · 4 years

Text

229. Sonic the Hedgehog #161

Eugh, I'm really not a fan of that weird… eye thing going on up there. For whatever reason Spaz did that on a couple subsequent cover pages as well, and it just looks… bizarre. Like, they have actual eyelids for a reason, man! Use 'em!

Birthday Bash! (Part Two): Birthday Boys

Writer: Ian Flynn Pencils: Tracy Yardley! Colors: Jason Jensen

So right off the bat, we're hit with some classic Ian Flynn humor (which we'll be seeing a lot more of) as well as his acknowledgement that, yes, Croctobot is pretty ridiculous.

Tails ends up having to drag a hysterical Sonic out of harm's way as Croctobot swipes at them, while Fiona watches the battle, impressed at Sonic's fighting skills once he's gotten his act together. Bark and Bean casually leave the scene while everyone is occupied, and Bean happily invites Fiona along to "have some fun like the old days." She hesitates and insists she can't, as she's a Freedom Fighter now, but Bean seems unconvinced and just tells her to say hi to Nic if she runs into her again. Meanwhile in the Chaos Chamber, Rouge seems pleased with Evil Sonic's new transformation into Scourge, but Locke strangely doesn't seem as into it, charging forward to attack once again. The newly-powered-up Scourge proceeds to savagely beat him into unconsciousness, which alarms Rouge greatly.

So, yeah. Just to establish what kind of person we're dealing with here - someone who will kill an unconscious guy just doing his job for fun. Immediately makes Scourge seem like a much bigger threat than he's been in the past, don't it? Scourge uses the Master Emerald to teleport himself and Rouge to Knothole immediately, as he wants to test out his newfound strength against Sonic himself, and shows up right at the tail end of the Freedom Fighters' fight against Croctobot. He smugly introduces his new self, explaining that he's done being merely an evil twin, and Sonic isn't too happy to hear he stole the Master Emerald's power and beat up Locke for it. However, Croctobot becomes infuriated at being ignored, and grabs both of them as well as Shadow, claiming it still has some fight left in it.

Well, that's what you get for being arrogant, Croctobot. Scourge immediately lands a cheap shot on Sonic as he's celebrating their victory, and they begin to race at top speed around the outskirts of Knothole, knocking into each other along the way like pinballs while everyone watches. Scourge ultimately wins the scuffle, knocking Sonic into the dirt, but Shadow interrupts, wanting to ask Scourge something (presumably, why he's such a jackass).

Grave mistake indeed, Scourge. You really don't want to antagonize Shadow of all people. He and Shadow start to fight as well in a similar manner (remember, Shadow is almost as fast as Sonic), and this time it actually wears Scourge out a bit, leaving him open to being knocked down by a combined blow from both Sonic and Shadow. The rest of the Freedom fighters, deciding they've stood by and watched long enough, all run in to help, targeting the nearby Rouge as well. Rouge doesn't like being caught up in a fight, nor did she particularly want to come here in the first place, so she immediately orders Scourge to retreat with her. She tells him to teleport them back to Angel Island as they race away with Shadow in hot pursuit, but he reminds her he needs an emerald to do that. However, a magical golden ring portal appears out of nowhere in front of them, and Rouge tells him not to question it, leading them inside the ring, which disappears just before a furious Shadow can get to it. Back outside the old base, everyone apologizes to Sonic for his birthday being ruined, but Sonic is completely unconcerned, telling Rotor that his plans for the base to act as a separate target to draw away from the innocents of Knothole worked like a charm, and that he's hardly upset about getting to fight some baddies on his birthday. As everyone cheers up due to his pep talk, Scourge and Rouge come out of the ring portal into a mysterious location…

Well well, Dr. Finitevus! How interesting to see you again, considering you were supposed to have died during the last battle on Angel Island! I suspect there's more to you than meets the eye…

Sonic Rush (Part Two of Two)

Writer/Pencils: Tania Del Rio Colors: Ben Hunzeker

So remember how Blaze has been having these weird dreams about Sonic helping her protect the Sol Emeralds? Yeah, apparently all that's gone out the window now, because she immediately starts attacking Sonic while he's on the ground. He dodges, and they begin to fight, with Sonic wondering briefly if she's one of Eggman's minions before deciding she's too skilled a fighter for that (burn, Eggman!). He tries to carry the fight into a more open area where he can use his speed, and Blaze follows him, flaring up her flames even more. Seriously, Blaze, why are you even attacking him?! He didn't do anything to you!

Well, serves you right for being so reactionary. Sonic stops as soon as Blaze starts to pass out from being unable to breathe, and offers her a hand, as well as a truce to at least learn each others' names. She introduces herself, and then reveals how she's been looking for him, which obviously surprises him seeing as how she was trying to burn him alive not ten seconds ago. She slyly promises to "haunt your dreams the way you have haunted mine," before immediately teleporting away (…somehow) in a flash of flame. Blaze, are you… are you coming onto him?

And… that's where that situation ends! That's all we get. This is what I was saying about not finishing adaptions - the biggest problem with Sonic Adventure 2 was that they only showed the beginning of the story and didn't bother to tell us how it all played out, something which ended up leaving a bizarre gap in the story due to how different the situations were between the games and the comics universes. This is much of the same, with the added problem that this hardly even counts as an adaption. Blaze actually doesn't even properly meet Sonic until quite a ways into the Sonic Rush game, and certainly wasn't having dreams about him helping her save the Sol Emeralds, so we have no real inkling as to how the rest of this story even goes. Because of that, you might be tempted to assume it's noncanon, but not so! Future stories in the comics assume that both Sonic Rush and Sonic Rush Adventure (where Sonic and Tails end up in Blaze's dimension) happened at some point within the larger plot, as events relating to both of them are mentioned and built upon later on. This is one of my biggest criticisms of Ian, as this isn't even the last time he pulls this - yes, I'm aware that this story wasn't written by Ian, but considering he's the head writer it's a bit negligent of him to let this slip by more than once, when he could have made a point of writing actual conclusions to these stories. Honestly, I think his reason for doing it was to bring more characters and plot threads from the games into the comics, since it means more toys to play with after all, but I find the implementation to be lazy, since it doesn't actually bother to give us an ending to any of said plot threads. At the very least, I can appreciate the want to bring the world of the comics a little more in line with that of the games, given how far they had started to stray from what was going on in the games world at the time. Luckily, Ian did eventually get a clue and stop doing this, although I suppose to a degree he had to, given how the plotlines of subsequent games just started getting bigger and more dramatic - it's hard to have a story about the world splitting into seven pieces and Sonic turning into a werehog happen offscreen.

This issue ends with a couple of character files - hey, haven't had those in a while! - on Scourge and Finitevus. The one about Scourge doesn't really tell us anything we didn't know - it simply recaps his change in appearance, turning green from the Master Emerald's energies and gaining two large scars on his chest courtesy of Locke. Interestingly, it does imply that Scourge really is a "twin" of Sonic's instead of being the direct inverse, sharing his arrogance but lacking the "moral restraint" that keeps Sonic honest. It also covers some of his abilities, such as the spin dash and super transformation, but given that he's, well, an alternate version of Sonic most of these abilities are things we already know. As for Finitevus, it gives us a bit of a clue into just how weird this guy is - suffice to say, he's not a normal echidna. For one, the patterning on his chest is noted to be the "birthmark of a Guardian in black," rather than a normal set of fur markings, yet there's no place in the genetic line for a rogue Guardian (that we know of). Furthermore, no one really knows the extent of his abilities, with them being noted only as being "some magical or science based powers." It's clear there's a lot more to him than we yet know, not to mention that he seems to have some serious plans going forward and is recruiting shady characters to the cause…

#nala reads archie sonic preboot #archie sonic #archie sonic preboot #sonic the hedgehog #sth 161 #writer: ian flynn #writer: tania del rio #pencils: tracy yardley #pencils: tania del rio #colors: jason jensen #colors: ben hunzeker

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thesorcerersapprentice · 4 years

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INTERVIEW SERIES: Part 1, MC Basics

What is your full name? Do you have a nickname (if so, who calls you this)?

So my name is Angharad Cromwell, but it’s a bit of a mouthful and it’s very difficult for people to pronounce, especially when their first language isn’t [english], and even when it is, so I usually go by “Anna” or “Anne.” Whichever is easiest.

Which do you prefer?

I don’t really have a preference out of the two nicknames, but I prefer my full name, personally.

Was that how your great uncle used to address you?

Yes, and all my family, as a rule.

Where and when were you born?

I was born here in New Caerwent, in the arts district, on the 7th of April, 1733.

That would make you...?

26 years old.

Tell me a little about your parents. (Their names, birthplaces, occupations, personalities, etc.)

Well, my father is the Cromwell. His name is Nathaniel and he was born here in New Caerwent, like me. He’s a sculptor and a very gentle, warmhearted man. My mother is more abrasive and more charismatic [chuckles] - she often intimidated my suitors, but she can charm a room within seconds if she wants to. Not a skill I inherited, in case you were wondering, though perhaps I do come across as a little intimidating? [smiles ruefully] In that way, I am my mother’s daughter. She’s from The Western Reaches and she’s a dancer.

It sounds like you’re very close to them.

I am. They’re wonderful people.

And you have a sister, am I correct?

Yes, a younger sister. Very gifted, charming... I love her.

It must be quite terrible to be away from them. Where do you live now, and with whom?

Oh, I’m actually living on campus, in my late Great Uncle’s old suite at Cromwell House. I have the floor to myself but I see a lot of the other grad students when I go down from meals at the first floor cafeteria or the communal sitting room. But yeah, I’m lucky in that I don’t have to share my personal space with anyone. It’s a real luxury. I can be as messy as I like. I mean, I’d have a heartattack if you said you wanted to see the suite right now. I’ve got papers all over the place, it’s just chaos [laughs]. So yeah, to sum up, pretty great.

What is your occupation?

I’m a Professor of Metaphysical Arts at Octagon College, which is part of the University of New Caerwent.

You’re very young for a professor. I’m sure you must get that a lot.

[Laughs] Yes. It’s not what people expect when they imagine “Professor.” I haven’t got grey hair or a beard. No wrinkles yet - at least I hope not. But it’s more than just the age that takes people aback. Thats certainly a big part of it but I’d say it’s also the fact that I’m a young woman, rather than a young man. I feel like society is more open to the idea of a brilliant young man than that of a woman. I’m not the image, even the ‘youthful’ image, people have come to expect.

Do you feel you are given the same level of respect as your colleagues, being young and a woman, as you mentioned?

Um... Yes, though I have to actively strive to earn that respect much more ... shall, we say, aggressively than my colleagues. i don’t know if ‘aggressively’ is the right word but certainly there is a pressure to demonstrate that I’ve earned my position.

To which social class do you belong?

That’s a tricky question for me. I’ve got a foot in both ends of society. I was born into the higher class - my father, as you know, is a Cromwell. My mother is also from a prominent family in The Western Reaches, the Pantaleons. But my immediate family - by that I mean, my parents, my sister and I - have experienced periods of what you’d call extreme hardship and these interludes of economic misery have really marked me. In some ways, I’m always struggling to reconcile those two parts of my life, the luxury and privilege of my birth and the raw, brutal misery that I both experienced and witnessed as a part of a struggling family.

Are you right- or left handed?

Ambidextrous. Very useful in my line of work.

What does your voice sound like?

More haughty that I’d like, though that has its advantages at times. Other times I feel it makes people think I’m less approachable than I really am. I swear I’m completely approachable. I don’t understand why people run.

[Laughs] Are you saying you’re a softy at heart?

A total softy! But don’t tell anyone I told you that.

On what occasions do you lie?

Quite often, when I don’t feel much like revealing the full story of my life, I allow people to believe I’m simply from New Caerwent - that I’ve lived here my whole life. It’s not exactly a lie, like I said I was born here and I did live here up until a point as a child, but it’s not the truth either. Other times, I let people assume I’m from The Western Reaches. it’s just much less complicated that way. I don’t always like talking about my life.

Do you have a motto? If so, what is it?

Does the Cromwell family motto count?

Of Course.

Well, then yes. “Courage, Discipline, Justice”. Fun fact: it’s actually inscribed above the door to Cromwell House.

Do you have any annoying habits, quirks, strange mannerisms, or other defining characteristics?

Strange mannerisms... uh, let me - Oh yes! I usually dream up solutions to my work and have to get up in the middle of the night to write them down before I forget. That’s a mannerism of mine. I also like drinking coffee out of those huge mugs - you know the ones that look like they’re made for soup. I hate the small mugs, always having to refill them. Um what else, what else... I have very messy handwriting?

What is your hair color and eye color?

My hair’s a very dark brown. Not jet black, not blue-black, but as close as you can get while still being ‘brown’. As for my eyes, they’re violet like my mother’s. I take after her physically.

What kind of distinguishing facial features do you have?

I don’t know... distinguishing? I mean my eyes, like I said, are more of a Western Reaches thing, so they’re somewhat distinguishable here? I don’t know. I can’t really think of anything distinguishable. The curve of my nose? It’s a bit hooked. This is a difficult question! i think I failed this one.

Ok, then do you have any physical traits that stand out (such as scars, birthmarks, tattoos, etc.)? If you have scars, how did you get them? If you have tattoos, why did you get them and what meaning do they have to you?

Oh, certainly. So, I’m missing the smaller toe on my left foot. It’s a congenital defect and it means that my balance is thrown a little when I walk. That’s why I have a limp. My left leg is also scarred. Another congenital defect. I was just born with it. As for tattoos, I’ve been thinking of getting one but I haven’t been able to decide yet. My Great Uncle had a tarantula - or a scorpion, I could never tell which - on his arm and I wanted to get my own creature tattooed but, like I said, I’m very indecisive about which one...

Is that a trait of yours? Indecisiveness?

No, I wouldn’t say it is. Usually i know what I want. Tattoos are a weird exception to that rule.

Which words or phrases do you most overuse?

Anything academic. “In sum,” “therefore,” “thus” - “thus” is a big one. I say “so” a lot too, as I suppose you’ve noticed.

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magpiemorality · 4 years

Text

On the sixth day of Christmas

Kid!Deceit, Patton, Kid!Roman, Kid!Remus, Virgil & Kid!Logan, Victorian(ish) AU. Roughly Victorian-ish setting. Young Daniel (Deceit) is sent away to the countryside for unknown reasons to stay with his Uncle Patton and his cousins Roman and Remus. These are excerpts from his diary, spanning from his arrival in the beginning of winter to Christmas day.

Six Geese A’Laying

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Dear diary.

I don't like it here. The farm is smelly and loud and the house is always dirty no matter how much I complain! My cousins are rowdy and disgusting and crude, and Remus in particular had developed a fondness for flinging animal dung at me whenever I'm forced out to help. He and Roman are the most boorish, awful boys I've ever met. Why did I have to be related to them?

It's not fair. I want to go back home but Uncle Patton says it's not possible right now, and that father is expecting me to stay until the new year at least, even though that's so long! I'm going to have the worst time ever.

Love,

Daniel

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Dear diary,

I hate it I hate it I hate it! I hate them! Roman keeps making fun of my birthmark and he won't stop even when I say so and when I pushed him over Uncle Patton was angry at me instead! I HATE IT HERE. They wouldn't even believe me when I said I was too sick to do my chores today- Uncle Patton says lying is bad but Roman and Remus do it all the time, especially when they've done something bad and want to blame me. I only do it sometimes, because they deserve it.

There was one good thing today- the man that looks after the horses in the barn let me ride the gelding for the first time. His name is Verjel (I think?) and he's very tall and very quiet and very polite. I told him it was nice to meet someone with some manners and respect in this dump and he just smiled and showed me how to feed the horses right so they don't bite your hand. I like the horses now.

Love,

Daniel

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Dear diary,

Roman is a total beast. He hid my gloves outside in the pig sty where they got utterly ruined, and then he refused to admit to it when Uncle Patton asked. It was really obvious it was him though, and Uncle Patton said he was in big trouble. He also said it was okay when I cried, but I made him promise not to tell anyone. He also said we could go and get some more in the market in a few days, but they won't be the same. Those were my special birthday gloves from father last year, and they were made in India I think. I don't think they'll have them in the market here in this nowhere town.

Virgil (I asked how to spell his name, he said I could find it in a book and he brought me the book yesterday so I could see it, but I'm not allowed to read the book yet because Uncle Patton says it's too scary for me) let me come and take the horses out today. I helped him pull them to the pasture in the early morning, and I got up especially for it! Uncle Patton said it was good to see me finally taking an interest, but I'm not really, it's only because Virgil is showing me the more grown up stuff. Remus isn't allowed to help with the horses yet, and Roman is a scaredy cat. I'm the only one Virgil lets work with him and I think it's neat.

Love,

Daniel

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Dear diary,

It's nearly Christmas and father has written me a letter! He says he will visit for Christmas day before he has to return to the manor to continue sorting things out. I don't know what things there are to sort out, but it sounds terribly important. Uncle Patton didn't look very happy when he read his letter, but he wouldn't tell me why. He said he was excited to hear about father's visit, but I think he was lying. Why do grown ups do that so much, and then tell us off for it?

Remus was nice to me today. He said it was very impressive that I was allowed to help with the horses so much, and he helped me carry the tack (that's what Virgil calls the saddle and the bridle and the reins and things) back to the tack room. I said I would ask if Virgil would let him ride the gelding for Christmas maybe. I hope he says yes- Remus looked very happy and it was really nice.

Love,

Daniel

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Dear diary,

Father is delayed. He was meant to arrive the night before Christmas, but he sent word that he was stuck at home still. Roman said it meant he wasn't coming because I'm not important enough, and I hit him. Uncle Patton was very upset with both of us, but it was all Roman's stupid fault! Of course I'm important enough! Roman is a poop head and I will never like him. Uncle Patton said Roman was just upset because his father is no longer around, but he wouldn't explain what that meant and I think he was lying again because he likes Roman more, because Roman is the best at milking the cows.

When father arrives I will tell him how mean Roman has been (Remus is my friend now so not him) and he will take me far away from here. I will miss Remus and Virgil a little bit, but I miss my room and my gloves and my butler so much more. I will not miss Roman. I might miss Uncle Patton a little bit, but only if he's not mean to me again before then.

Love,

Daniel

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Dear diary,

Father is unable to come for Christmas. I think I may run away.

Daniel

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Dear diary,

I'm in big trouble and I might not be allowed to help Virgil with the horses again. Uncle Patton has banned me going anywhere without him after I nearly froze to death in the barn. Which isn't true! I was just fine sleeping there and I was just a bit cold, and Virgil found me right away in the morning! Uncle Patton was really angry though, and he cried a bit which was strange, and even Roman has been very quiet recently. I was only in bed asleep for two days, not even half a week! I was just really tired, I don't know why they're blaming me.

Remus made me a drawing when I was in bed. It's really ugly but I love it. It has me, Remus, Virgil and the gelding in a field fighting an evil dragon that has eaten lots of people. It's a bit horrid but it makes me happy to see it anyway. Roman hasn't spoken to me at all. I wonder if he's sick too?

Love,

Daniel

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Dear diary,

Roman had a horrible nightmare last night. It woke everyone up, and even Remus was crying about it. Uncle Patton promised it was just a bad dream but Roman didn't eat any breakfast and Remus was acting weird after they had private twin time and talked about it. I think they talked about it, anyway. Uncle Patton says there are some things that aren't meant to be shared and that I mustn't ask what it's about, because if Roman wants to tell me he will. I think that's silly- he never wants to tell me anything! So how will I know what's going on if I don't ask?

Father sent a gift ahead of Christmas to say sorry. I have put it under the tree and I'll open it when he should have been here. Why couldn't he come for one day? I asked Virgil and he says it's only a medium long trip, and can be done in a day in the carriage. Then he said I must promise him to tell him if I want to go away anywhere so he can help me, and I did. I won't go anywhere though. Father didn't put anything in his message about when I was sick. Maybe Uncle Patton didn't tell him? He would probably have come if he knew.

Love,

Daniel

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Dear diary,

Tomorrow is Christmas. The animals are in the barn and we all went to sing carols at the church down the lane, and me and Remus and Roman sat on the gelding while Virgil and Uncle Patton walked. It was really pretty inside and everyone was really jolly and there were mince pies and another boy named Logan played chase with us so it was really fun. It was really late because it was called midnight mass and I was so tired I fell asleep on the gelding and Virgil had to piggy back me home instead. Then we all had a sleepover in Remus and Roman's room, after we put our stockings out and some carrots out for the reindeer. I hope I don't get coal- Remus says he knows someone who got coal once, but he never has even though he's not always good at not being naughty. I used to hope Roman would get coal, but he's been a lot nicer since I was sick and I think we could be nearly friends now. So I don't hope he gets coal.

I wish father were here to blow out the candle. Uncle Patton doesn't do it quite right. But he's here to do it now anyway, so goodnight.

Love,

Daniel

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Dear diary,

I had the best Christmas ever! There was a big turkey to eat and no one got any coal and I got some new gloves from Roman and Remus and a book about horses from Uncle Patton and the bestest of all was from Virgil- I got my own horse riding boots! They're not new but they almost fit really well and they're shiny because Virgil cleaned them lots and he says we can add extra socks to make sure I can wear them right away! Father's gift was just a toy car but I'm not grateful, even if Uncle Patton says I should be. I gave it to Roman because he likes cars and he gave me a hug. It was nice.

When we went outside to play in the snow I was on Roman's team against Remus and we won, and then we switched and I was with Remus and we won again! I think I'm good at snowball fights. Virgil told us all a story after dinner and we went out to collect the eggs, and Uncle Patton made a funny joke about the geese, but they don't lay eggs at Christmas time, Logan told me that when we met, so I don't know why it was funny.

I love it here. I never want to leave ever!

Love,

Daniel

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12 Days of Sides-mas Masterpost

#deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #sanders side fic #my writing #ts sanders sides #12 days of sidesmas #writing challenge #kid fic #tw: child abandonment

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simonsaidthat · 4 years

Text

“It Gets Better Later...” JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure Part 2 (also... Part 2)

Splitting up my written thoughts on JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure into Parts, I’ve finished reading the manga and I’m listing each part from “least looking forward to sitting through the Anime version of to most excited for”. Which doubles as a “Worst to Best” list.

I’ve already listed Part 1: Phantom Blood as the worst entry (it’s not... that bad?) but we’re moving up to the next part that’s not AS bad as Part 1.

Part 2: Battle Tendency

(I have seen the opening, and the opening rocks).

As stated previously, I think the worst Part of Phantom Blood is Will A. Zeppeli, Hamon/Ripple, and basically the entire second half of Part 1. The strongest element of Phantom Blood was Dio trying steal the Joestar inheritance in the first half. The second half is about Johnathan learning random magic bullshit that wasn’t in the first half to find and defeat Dio who was now off-screen.

Part 2 is at least all in on the magic bullshit, so it can instead focus on applying it to its ridiculously escalating series of battles.

And I didn’t really go into greater detail about this, but Johnathan Joestar wasn’t particularly interesting either. He was just kind of a boring ‘good boy’ and any extended screen time made sitting through Part 1 harder and harder.

Joseph Joestar on the other hand was anything but boring. The strongest elements of Battle Tendency were the heroes Joseph, Caeser Zeppeli, and Lisa Lisa. Their dynamic is so good, that I’m frankly disappointed in every other JoJo Part that doesn’t have as strong a group pairing as these three.

After reading 8 different JoJo’s, Joseph might be my favorite Joestar protagonist.

...but Part 2 is still my second least favorite JoJo part.

Look, I’m reading JoJo because everyone keeps recommending the series (and the series they’re most fond of appear to be post Hamon/Ripple stuff), so Part 2 can’t help but be a roadblock in that way, but I attest that it’s not the lack of Stands that makes Part 2 a hard sit through. After all, the inclusion of Hamon/Ripple is what ruined Part 1 for me, and simply removing it would have made Phantom Blood easily in my top 3.

It’s not the Hamon/Ripple that makes Battle Tendency worse, nor is it the lack of Stands. Instead I’d say it’s because in execution, Part 2 is the total opposite of Part 1.

Part 1 had a great antagonist but a boring protagonist; Part 2 has amazing heroes, and boring villains (and one, sympathetic, cybernetic nazi to sour things further).

And I don’t like the Pillar Men.

Hirohiko Araki’s artwork is still a little rough during the early JoJo’s, that I wasn’t sure how large the Pillar Men were. I thought that maybe they were literal giants (which would have been interesting) but it may have just been a perspective thing...

Anyway, the first thing they do is walk through people and cause them to melt through contact. They seemed kind of boringly invincible beings which, to be fair, does lead to the one thing I like about the Pillar Men, is how susceptible they are to Joseph’s bluffs. This helps to elevate how unpredictable Joseph is (hence being my favorite Joestar) but it really hurts my impression of the Pillar Men in the process.

Other JoJo villains share a certain amount of “hubris” as a defining weakness for them, but the Pillar Men in particular come off as being incredibly short-sighted/dumb. They easily have the capacity to kill the heroes by contact and choose instead to give them a months time to “get stronger”.

Seriously? These are the LAST of the Hamon/Ripple Fighters, trained in the art of your only weakness (aside from sunlight which is only a mild inconvenience to them), and your willing to let them go because an idiot blow-hard “lesser being” claims that he can get stronger than you IF YOU LET HIM!!!

...this is probably why other JoJo villains either actively run away from the heroes or only get involved when there’s absolutely no other option and it’s the final battle.

I don’t know, maybe the anime adaption of Part 2 does the Pillar Men more justice (or maybe it’s been long enough for me to get a new perspective on them) but it’s agonizing knowing in advance that these “Super Vampires” are just one arc/part/block in the way of having Stand villains.

Granted, not all Stand Villains are created equal, and even though I’d be more excited to see the Anime Adaption of the next entry on the list... even the Pillar Men might be better than “that guy”.

Part Six: Stone Ocean

(Here comes the first curve ball)

Let me say this about reading through Hirohiko Araki’s writing: every JoJo parts individual arcs, encounters, “battles”, however you’d describe magic people showing off their weirdo powers to defeat the heroes and the strange stipulations on overcoming those said weird powers;

Everything escalates to higher, grander, tenser encounters, that every Part becomes more lethal than the previous entry. Sure you can probably point to one particular Stand from parts 3-5 and say “nothing beats this”, and I would counter with “Rainbow Snails” and those in the know will hopefully know what I’m talking about.

(That or every subsequent JoJo part finds new ways to trigger some new phobia I didn’t know I had.)

Basically if you think that I would suggest that Stone Ocean, which currently does not have an anime, starring the first female JoJo, is somehow not worth making an anime adaption of, than you’d be wrong. I’d love to find out what the soundtrack of Stone Ocean is gonna sound like for one thing, and Stone Ocean has my absolute favorite supporting character!

...but this one was a disappointment.

There was a point while reading JoJo where I had basically given up on remembering any character names (probably started with Part 3), and instead focused on the general flow of the story beats; “what’s the objective right now, who’s in the way, and who has which stand in the party.” This does occasionally mean I glaze over the details of the Stand fights (which are the highlights), and by the end of reading each Part, I can only really remember what happened in the Story.

And the Story of Part 6 is not as good as its own Stand Battles. (Minor Spoilers from here on out!)

I remember being psyched for Part 6. Female JoJo (who was also Jotaro’s kid), Shawshank Redemption/Green Mile/Prison setting, Dio’s possible return, and some kind of “Universe Ending Climax” that I heard might put all other JoJo endings to shame. But, as it turns out, some of those very elements that I was initially excited for were either absent or turned out to be a detriment to Jolyne Kujo’s story.

(Turns out setting your location in a boxed prison in Florida Marshland is only fun at first. Which is probably why the set is abandoned for the last third of Stone Ocean.)

While reading Part 4, I remember thinking with Jotaro’s inclusion that “I hope Jotaro doesn’t steal the spotlight away from Josuke”. By the time I reached Part 6, I realized that it wasn’t strictly Jotaro that was a problem, but rather the reverence for Part 3′s Jotaro Kujo and DIO.

The STORY of Part 6 seems to be a love letter to Part 3, which actively ruins Part 6.

What was the point of introducing DIO’s additional offspring? As far as I can tell they add nothing to the main villains schemes, nor do they seem to behave in any meaningful way like DIO. Giving them the Joestar Birthmark is only there to convey to the audience that they’re a big deal, and they’re barely in it. And they’re only revealed/show up during the last quarter of the story!

They’re the “Knights of Ren” of the Joestar Universe. Their name/origin makes them sound like a big deal, and they’re not.

If I had to guess, I would suggest that the only reason we’re introduced to “DIO’s kids” is because we needed a group of bad guys with Stands to fight the heroes, but we did not want to explain/worry over how this group of bad guys got Stands in the first place.

The worry over minutia of canon was a poison slowly killing JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure; starting with Part 4′s “we need another JoJo, let’s say Joseph cheated on his wife to have an illegitimate son so we don’t skip forward too far into the future”, and “how did the cast of Part 3 get Stands? Let’s say a Magic Arrow did it, now there’s a Magic Arrow that gives people Stands in Part 4”, the virus of continuity returns in Part 5 and finally takes roost in Part 6.

All because we might’ve taken Part 3 a little too seriously.

Again, DIO’s kids are barely a plot device of Part 6, but I think it’s perfectly emblematic of the problems with Part 6.

Strangely when it came to characters that I liked/disliked, I was able to divide my feelings by gender lines: I really like the Female main cast of characters and I didn’t care about any of the Male main cast of characters. The closest Male character that I liked was “Weather Report” when he was just a stoic support guy, but then he gets his memory back, briefly gets a worse personality, and is thrown aside shortly after.

And then you’ve got the main villain, Enrico Pucci.

One of the joys of reading through each Part was figuring out limitations of each stand user, and the eventual identity/stand of the final boss that must somehow be a greater threat than everything else that came before. If we know the identity of the Villain (Part 3) there’s a dramatic build up to the reveal of their Stand. If we know about their Stand first (Part 5) then we can slowly unravel the identity/appearance of the Villain.

Or you can do what Stone Ocean does and give us both close to the start of the series.

And visually speaking, hinging the plot of Stone Ocean on collecting Memory CD-Rom’s and sending them to the right people is just not exciting. And using this power to steal Jotaro’s Stand Power (this is early enough in the series to be an inciting incident and only a minor spoiler) and NOT USE IT or give it to a henchmen is a wasted opportunity!

I honestly think we missed out on an opportunity to switch Stands among the Party, but I guess that sequence would’ve been too similar to one that played out in another Part.

I hope an anime adaption “changes the CD-ROMS” to be more alien-like. They can still be round-disks/CD-like/vinyl disks, but, I don’t know, have screaming faces of the damned fade in and out of the reflections (faces do occasionally show up, but their usually static portraits to convey to the audience whom the CD belongs to). Make them more horrific/alien to look at.

Voice acting and music may help change things; for a North American Dub I hope Pucci gets the same voice actor as Netflix Castlevania’s Isaac, Adetokumboh M'Cormack. It’s... a very similar role, which would be fun, but I think his voice would provide a lot more charisma for Pucci.

youtube

(Apparently Pucci in Part 6 isn’t black, he’s just ambigiously brown and born into a pale white family. I had forgotten about his family, but I’d still like the Castlevania Actor to play him for the previously stated charisma and the casting gag of a loyal servant mourning the loss of his vampire lord).

The soundtrack to this arc has got to be tight if it hopes to elevate itself from the impression I got through reading it.

Also maybe have a filler arc for more Foo Fighters (F.F.) content. (She’s likely the “Tsuyu Asui” of the JoJo Universe, and if she’s not now, she will be once she’s in an anime).

#jojo's bizarre adventure #battle tendency #stone ocean #Joseph Joestar #Jolyne Kujo #enrico pucci

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citialiin · 4 years

Text

ZIGGY ✰ STARDUST

i jacked this from @cardinalrot. thank you dad. tagging: @gothsic ; @blossomingbeelzebug ; @betelguide ; @thatcertainnight ; @prophesyed ; you, specifically, reading this.

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬

FULL NAME. [ redacted ] * NICKNAME. ziggy GENDER. agender (he/him or they/them) / typically presents as a “man” for simplicity’s sake and also because he doesn’t care enough to think about it for more than 4 seconds HEIGHT. 5′10″ AGE. 26 (earth years) ZODIAC. ??? (he wasn’t born under our stars ... so .......) SPOKEN LANGUAGES. any/all (he doesn’t really know them, though, he uses an internal translator)

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬

HAIR COLOR. bright red, seemingly unnatural -- but it’s natural EYE COLOR. left pale blue, right black SKIN TONE. very, very, very pale BODY TYPE. skinny. very skinny/slender/svelte. willowy and tall and bony. good for looking waifish on magazine covers but bad for lifting even vaguely heavy objects. VOICE. posh, nasally, low, the slightest bit condescending. speaks with an english accent despite not being english, let alone human. drawls his vowels and enunciates his letters. his voice is strangely clear and bright when he sings, unlike his somewhat unpleasant speaking tone, and he tends to sing in higher pitches than his speaking voice. DOMINANT HAND. ambidextrous -- but he can only play the guitar left handed POSTURE. very straight and proper, holds his head high and his shoulders square. uncertain if it’s height alone or if he really is looking down upon you. SCARS. small incision in the back of his neck where the translator was placed. barely there and usually covered by a collar or his hair, anyways. TATTOOS. none BIRTHMARKS. a large yellow disc on his forehead, rimmed with a slightly darker yellow/bronze with the slightest hint of a chromatic shift affect due to reflecting/light catching pigment in skin cells. this isn’t unique to him, however, as every member of his race has it. has the tiniest hint of a freckle above his lip, on the left side, and he hates it and wishes he could nuke it off his face. both of these are usually covered, anyways. MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S). the circular mark, his unusual eyes, his sharp features, his bright hair. everything about him is weird and outlandish and strange, but it helps him maintain a striking, marketable image.

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝

PLACE OF BIRTH. far away. HOMETOWN. faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar away. SIBLINGS. [ grabs the steering wheel and veers straight into worldbuilding headcanon territory ] the society he comes from is no longer sexually dimorphic and typically doesn’t reproduce the natural way. having evolved far beyond such icky things, they use genetic samples from large swaths of the population to make consistent batches of new individuals -- the genetic samples are screened for defects and aberrations and sort of tossed together into a genome salad, and out comes however many individuals they need to fill in gaps in the population. there’s a lot of consistency in his species due to this: everyone has reddish hair, everyone has heterochromia, everyone is about the same height, etc. so technically, he’s related to everyone in his “batch.” PARENTS. he wouldn’t ever know -- a lot of people, probably

𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

OCCUPATION. rockstar -- cultural icon -- celebrity -- musician -- singer -- model -- jerk CURRENT RESIDENCE. london, LA, NYC, but he’s constantly moving and tours quite often CLOSE FRIENDS. few and far in between -- he’s friends with his drummer who is named priscilla but usually goes by the stage name WEIRD, as well as siddharth, his bassist, who goes by sid in his personal life but GILLY on stage. they were the first two humans to encounter him and taught him everything he knows, from how to tie his shoes (aliens wear boots, and you should know this) to the C major scale -- because they are among the few humans who know his secret, he views them as his closest and dearest friends. his stardom isolates him from them, just a little -- he likes the spotlight but they don’t mind just being “the drummer” and “the bassist.” they don’t quite have the star power that he does. his manager -- tama ahinariki, some guy from new zealand who seemed to bumble his way into becoming in charge of one of the most successful musicians of the decade -- also knows he’s an alien, but they tend to be more business partners than close friends. tama is more interested in the money side of things whereas priscilla and sid are only interested in the music. ziggy has stock in the music, money, and his personal brand.

via rp, he’s made some friends with other characters! a few. very few. RELATIONSHIP STATUS. single -- he intends to stay that way. he gets all the action he could ever need from his legion of devoted fans and groupies. even in situations where he’s romantically involved and emotionally invested, he would never consider himself exclusive or monogamous. a lot of tabloids make rumors that he’s involved with cardinal copia, fellow rock icon, but he tends to be sneaky at hiding any time they spent together. it’s hard to keep things private when you’re both massively popular public figures, though. he goes out of his way to be sure no one knows about his predilection for spending time with thomas, because the last thing an awkward alien in disguise needs is a lot of public attention because people think you’re dating a celebrity (who they don’t know is also an alien). he hangs around annie a lot, too, but this is extra extra under wraps, because annie has a stalker named jonathan who may or may not go apeshit and try to tear his head off or something if he finds out. FINANCIAL STATUS. filthy rich. should be guillotined. DRIVER’S LICENSE. doesn’t have one. he has some paperwork, somewhere, with a “real” name and all that, but he has no idea where it is and lets his manager deal with that stuff. CRIMINAL RECORD. none ! clean slate. that doesn’t mean he doesn’t do illegal things, though. he just doesn’t get caught. VICES. smoking, drinking, la cocaina, sex, impulsive spendng, rockstar stuff.

𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

SEXUAL ORIENTATION. bisexual. PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE. submissive | dominant | switch | top | bottom | verse. this doesn’t really come up in rp because i dont write nsfw. the way i view it is that he’s lazy and would rather you take care of him than the other way around LIBIDO. pretty high, but it’s difficult for him to have as much sex as he might prefer because, uh, he has, uh, alien..............parts...........and stuff ..... like ....... some parts down there look different ....... so he’s stuck having sex with usually in the dark, under sheets, and he has to zip his pants up really quick afterwards. maybe it’s a little bit hilarious and i just think it’s funny idk LOVE LANGUAGE. selflessness (which is big, for him, king of all douchebags and lord selfish dickhead the third), rambling to you about his day, physical affection, gifts, letting you see him without make up, opening up to you about his life before earth. he might play you music, sing to you or write you songs if he’s feeling particularly sappy. this is stuff reserved for people that he finds himself incredibly romantically/emotionally attached to, though, not the people he has one night stands with. and he almost never forms any sort of lasting attachment to the people he sleeps with casually. RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES. he tends to fall for people who challenge him in some way, who aren’t easily beguiled by his status and physical looks, but who aren’t outright mean to him. that being said, he is very vain, and he loves being showered in compliments, praise or attention. he matches well with people who can put up with his antics and moodiness and odd behavior. he likes the idea of being someone’s muse or someone’s idol, so he finds himself drawn to other creative types. he has the most intimate/special connections with other nonhuman beings, especially other aliens, cuz he feels like they Get him and he wouldn’t be really giving himself in his fullest form if he had to still play pretend that he was a human being. for whatever reason he goes apeshit for goth guys/dudes with black hair who wear a lot of black. he really doesn’t like people who are too much like him, because HE’S HIM, and you’re YOU, and he really wants it to stay that way. GET OUT OF MY DRESSING ROOM

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬

CHARACTER’S THEME SONG. there’s a whole album about him .......... theres a song called “ziggy stardust” ....... HOBBIES TO PASS TIME. singing, music, writing -- he lives for that shid. he likes art in all forms, so he reads, watches movies, looks at paintings -- he has a lot of human culture to catch up on, and he loves all of it, from any time period and any culture. he also likes buying things, shopping, looking nice, gossip. he tends to be a party animal (party alien?) and often indulges in more hedonistic fun. LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED. his brain is not structured like a human brain. also, head empty. no thoughts. FEARS. being perceived as ugly or untalented, being outed as an alien, being rejected for being an alien, becoming a nobody, losing his social status, becoming a conformist, becoming “outdated” or “uncool” SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL. somehow sky high and on the floor at the same time. he usually thinks he can do anything and he’s pretty perfect, but that may just be from a solid few years of repeating that to himself and empty praise given by people who are just crazy obsessed with him -- he built his confidence level on a very shaky foundation, so it’s easy to start making him doubt himself and panic if you know what to criticize him on VULNERABILITIES. a lot of things, and im sick of typing

* pay me 100000 USD to unlock my LEVEL 20 ZIGGY STARDUST LORE pack now with NAMING/TITLE INFORMATION, HOME PLANET CLIMATE/WEATHER PATTERNS and PAST OCCUPATION/EDUCATION information. includes a piece of gum i found on the floor.

#ooc #meme #I'm so close 2 being done with finals just like one more week i turn in terrible project after terrible project #i am typing this as i wait for a group member to send me the first five pages of our cumulative 10 page essay. i hate him. i hate him.#why is he taking so long. i need to write this thing.#but after that i will go back to what i need to do ...#i run this account like a shitty ship careening into rocks #but i will go down with it !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#KEEP YOUR 'LECTRIC EYE ON ME ; queue

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slurrmp · 5 years

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all you need to know about spyro’s original characters: oc: tanaka matheson fandom: star trek/doctor who status: semi active.

THE BASICS

Name: tanaka devonne matheson Nicknames: ana, bear, annie Gender: female Pronouns: she/her Sexual Orientation: bisexual Age (actual age): 42 31 Place of Birth: lithgow, new south wales, australia Citizenship: australian/american

APPEARANCE

Age they appear: early twenties to mid twenties Hair colour: brown Hair style: mostly always either straight down, or in a ponytail. Eye colour: green Birthmarks/scars/marks: two inch scar above her eyebrow, multiple on her shoulders, one across the underside of her belly due to a c-section. burn marks on her lower back and some on the back of her left hand. scar in the centre of her right hand palm. Piercings: ears ( double lobe, helix, auricle ) Tattoos: tiny devil horns on her shoulder blade.

Build (curvy, toned, etc): unusually tall for her family, can seem a little bit lanky, but ana is muscled, was trained to wield a sword and even a gun when she was a teenager. Weight: around 65kilos Height: 5′7″ Clothing style: mainly jeans and a top, never really seen in anything too fancy unless the occasion calls for it. tracky pants and a sweat shirt when lazy around the tardis. mainly comfy clothing, when not in uniform. Overall appearance: always seems like she’s got some place to be. is never seen without sneakers on her feet.

Trinkets/jewelry: a locket that her mother gave her before she died. her father’s dog tags. Equipment/accessories (things they are never without; ex: a backpack or a notepad) baby bag. seems ridiculous but those bags can hold anything and everything in them. talk about the doctor having never ending pockets. when ana brings her baby bag with her, you know there’s important shit in there.

INNER WORKINGS

General mood: ana was raised in a military family, she has her moments were she can be fun and silly, but she is mostly a rather serious person, who wants to make sure that everything is going well. especially when she has her kids. Mental state (any mental illnesses?): ptsd is strong with this one. with her world being plunged into darkness and being separated from her father when she was only 6 years old. then being dragged into another universe and across time. it gets to a person. ana has also suffered from post natal depression. Alignment (neutral good, chaotic evil, etc): chaotic neutral Morals: big family morals. she end up being torn from her family, so she wants to make sure that she always keeps hers safe. Temperament: very much known as the runaway throughout the galaxy. time and space have even heard of her.

Quirks: chews her lower lip. picks at her nails. twirling of her hair (that’s the one that annoys HER the most) Pet peeves: when people separate their families.

Strengths: extremely loyal. patient. kind. strong. Weaknesses: her family. her friends. it’s rather strange how easy it is to manipulate her.

Fears: death. Intelligence: ana never got the chance to even GO to high school. everything that ana knows was learnt through her aunt and uncle. when ana was pulled into another universe, and she managed to get herself settled with jack at torchwood, she applied at the local university (thanks to a couple of faked documents by the doctor) and was able to studied midwifery.

Priorities: her children. Desires: to see the entire universe. all the way to the beginning of time, to the end of it. Likes: engineering. which is strange - she wanted to help people, but just fixing things became a thing for her to do to get her mind off of stressful times. Dislikes: not being with her father anymore, not even being with her family.

Vices: can be too serious at times. always thinking about her family instead of the needs of many others.

RELATIONSHIPS

Friends: significant friendships, the doctor, jack harkness,

Family: Miles Matheson ( FATHER, MIA. ), Tamara Wayne ( MOTHER, DECEASED. ), Taylor Matheson ( TWIN, BROTHER, ALIVE. ),

Significant other: there uh ... there’s been many. but at the moment, there’s none.

Kids: Ethan Matheson ( SON, ALIVE. ), Grace Matheson ( DAUGHTER, ALIVE. ), Lucas Matheson ( SON, ALIVE. ), Leah Matheson ( DAUGHTER, ALIVE. )

Enemies: many of the same enemies as the doctor, they really have a knack for getting her into trouble.

EMPLOYMENT AND EDUCATION

Jobs: works for torchwood. star fleet officer. Profession: midwife

Income (if any): it all depends on where she is at the time. at home on earth in the 21st century it’s about 28 000 pounds.

Furthest education: university. Degree (if any): bachelor of medicine (midwifery) cardiff university

EXTRA INFORMATION

Criminal record: there’s just too many to actually add.

Social media accounts (if any): instagram, snapchat bc snapping the torchwood group while away with the doctor is a lot of fun.

Reputation: ana’s known around the universe as the runaway. it was said that even though she had the skills and the talent to slay her enemies where they stood with her sword, ana would runaway - just like the doctor had taught her. it doesn’t help that in the future Q flaunts her around the galaxy and too star fleet.

Skills: extremely talented with a sword.

Talents: ana can actually play the piano rather well.

Hobbies: no time for hobbies. though - seeing the universe might be considered a hobby.

Special abilities (if any): spending enough time on the tardis weird things might happen.

Transportation: the tardis mostly, but when she’s home in the 21st century ana would use one of the torchwood cars

Living conditions: an apartment in the heart of new orleans. it’s such an obscure place to live, but all of her kids loved the french quarter, it’s basically the base of operations for the matheson clan.

Pets: a black cat called salem and a dalmatian called snoopy.

AESTHETIC

Colors associated with: pastel blue, teal, aqua, a lot of different blues. Their personal aesthetic: the pitch blackness and the smattering of stars when looking out the window. watching the stars zoom past while in warp speed. Song that suits them: KLLER QUEEN - QUEEN

╳ BIO:

there has always been something about tanaka matheson. she had always been a special child. when she was nine years old, three years after the blackout, she left with her aunt rachel, away from her uncle ben and cousins, charlie & danny to find her way back to her father, a general of the monroe militia. she learnt the basic skills to survive, becoming one of the best swordsmen in the entire militia just like her father. she was still too young when she returned to miles to be apart of the army, but that did not stop ana from wanting to learn everything there was to know about swords and how to become an amazing fighter like her daddy.

she learnt more about how to run and fight than simple maths. however, miles made sure that she was well educated when it became obvious she liked to travel with him when he WENT on long tours than to actually learn basic rules - eventually when ana was thirteen (13), miles made sure that ana stayed in school, which sometimes included him taking the men in the middle of the night so that he didn’t wake her and cause her to stowaway in the carriage.

season one of revolution plays out normally - just with the addition of a twenty year old ana being incredibly protective over miles and charlie.

life seemed to be going smoothly until one day she found a crack in the wall of an abandoned hospital they were squatting in. this crack in the wall caused her to fall into another universe. it was a crack in time and space - it should have SWALLOWED her whole and erased her from reality, but instead the crack spat her out on the other side, in a different universe, on a different planet, IN a different time.

she never really thought about the consequences of her absences back on the other side, miles was in hysterics that not even nora could calm him down from - he searched high and low for his daughter, only to come up empty six months down the road. she was considered K.I.A and miles was more ruthless than ever before.

ana had no idea where she ended up or HOW the hell she got there, but it was on that planet that she met a man called the doctor, a girl named amy pond and a woman called river song. they all seemed to know her rather well - it was explained that time travel was a funny thing. from there - she fell into one adventure that felt like it would never end, until abruptly it does. one of the - ALIENS, a weeping angel, snagged her around the wrist - but it didn’t kill her. they had been KILLING PEOPLE all day, snapping necks instead of feeding on their life energy, at least that’s what the doctor told her they did but this ONE - this ONE angel didn’t kill her, instead it shoved her FURTHER into the past. but why this one angel ? no one could really answer this question, not even when ana finally reached the moment in time the long way around. this time instead of landing in a cave on an alien planet, she landed on the lap of one captain jack harkness in world war two, london.

it was from there that she met the doctor again, but this time he looked different - looked older and a girl called rose tyler from there - she was pulled into ANOTHER crazy adventure, but to earth, though the date, they told her was 2005. it hurt ana’s brain to try and wrap around the fact that she wasn’t born yet but she was still her fully grown self. twenty years old and in a different time and universe.

it was from there that ana grew to love the doctor, jack and rose - up until the time the doctor left jack in the year five billion and ended up regenerating, a move that ana figured he was trying to avoid her questioning, all on christmas day (and her birthday) (21). it was something that time lords could do apparently, and it was from there at the beginning of 2006 that ana found herself twenty one years old and alone. not wanting to travel with a newly regenerated doctor, not after leaving jack stranded in the future and the fact they had been butting heads almost the whole time he had been awake. it was only the beginning of february that ana stumbled across torchwood and captain jack again.

this is where ana’s timeline gets a little complicated - ana and jack find themselves getting a little bit closer - a lot close as they become intimate (on multiple occasions) and it’s only a few months later (half way through season one) that ana finds out she’s pregnant. but it’s an event that attracts the wrong kind of attention (madam kavorian had her nose out early on) however, ana runs back into the doctor again, who is suddenly with a new companion after her and jack have an argument one afternoon - he was getting close to ianto, she wasn’t mad that he was, just mad that jack never told her about it. she was four months pregnant and had already been on a ship that was crashing into a sun, in the early 1900′s with a doctor who was human and stuck in 1969 with no TARDIS. it was during the year that never was that ana gave birth to a healthy baby boy, ethan. born july 15th 2007 (22) aboard the valiant.

ana didn’t continue on with the doctor and martha when everything returned to normal and the master had been stopped. she had a baby to look after and a captain that wouldn’t slow down - during the year, they had gotten closer once more - ana forgave jack about keeping lanto a secret and who knew maybe the three of them could work something out (they never did). but it was during the winter of 2010 (23) that ana lost her son. (leaving out the events that occurred during children of earth and miracle day) ana was left alone on earth and that’s when they struck.

the headless monks - the silence and madam kavorian, she wanted to take a child born from an immortal and a human to see if she could transform him into a weapon, see if he had gained some of his father’s powers of immortality - it was the worst night of ana’s life, and the first thing that she did was call the doctor (who had regenerated yet again), crying on her bathroom floor almost throwing up due to the fact that her son had been taken right from under her nose. the floppy haired doctor made a promise that he would find ethan for her - find her son. during events of season six, there’s other shit that involves my time lord oc, oliver plus finding out that there’s a version of herself in this universe, though she was born a boy, called taylor plus another baby, this time a girl (25), season seven is split into two, ana being around during the power of three but not for the ponds last goodbye, she was dealing with family issues at the time.

it was only on ana’s birthday at the end of season seven, just before the doctor regenerates, that the crack in space and time appears again on christmas (the planet), pulling her in - yet again she doesn’t get erased or forgotten. clara seemed to think it was the time lords trying to keep her alive.

landing on the grassy ovel of star fleet academy in 2255 (just turned 26). this kind of anomaly - that seemed to like throwing her throughout time and space - attracted a lot of attention. the continuum caught wind of ana when her appearance in the universe caused a stir in the timeline. this was the moment when she met Q. no stranger to time travel, thanks to the doctor, ana was only worried about the fact that she had no way of getting home - it was then that Q managed to distract her with trying to create a fake background for her which would allow her to join star fleet and end up becoming a member of the USS enterprise, to fight the battle against nero (28) & khan (28) in the next five years.

it was during the short break between khan’s attack and the battle of yorktown that ana was whisked away from that certain timeline - all because Q was bored with how things where going, calm and boring and no fun at all. keeping her backstory and her star fleet academy degree ana was placed on board the USS enterprise yet again, however the year was 2365 (still 28) and this timeline was completely different. run by jean-luc picard, Q introduced ana in a rather horrible way.

it was almost two full years of Q and ana getting each other into trouble, whether it was with the rest of the universe or mostly amongst the enterprise crew, however, during the events of Wolf 359 (30), ana is assimilated along with captain picard. after the event and ana was back to ‘normal’, the continuum decided to throw ana away from Q, who was banned from seeing her and even knowing where she disappeared too.

ana landed on board the NX-01, the very first space bound enterprise.

spending almost exactly three years (33) of her life on board, Q managed to find her after she was almost fatally wounded on one of the away missions, which included a run in with the xindi. Q, who was having his run ins with voyager and her crew at the time, dumped her in the delta quadrant where ana spent the next three years (35) once more on board a ship, where she grew incredibly close to the crew and the captain. the australian certainly had a habit of doing so, even with her rank of lieutenant and being only a nurse.

it was then that she stepped in and demanded to be taken back home, to her time - to the crew she first became close with, the aos crew, to which natasha a lady Q who had felt sympathy for ana’s situation, being the most notorious Q’s plaything and threw her back on board the 1701 during her second year of the five year mission. which leads into star trek beyond and also helps the fact that ana knows the main antagonist of the movie (37).

now this is where it gets complicated once more - ana does manage to find herself back on 21st century earth. but because she had been affected by the time vortex, the continuum and just being a time traveler as well - ana’s body still registers as a healthy 31 year old - while with some help of borg nanites that had to remain in her body, other wise her respiratory system would have shut down and she would have suffocated to death, which helps her to regenerate a lot faster than most humans. season 9 & 10 of doctor who occur.

REST OF BIO TO COME. WILL INCLUDE DS9, SEASON 11 OF DOCTOR WHO & DISCOVERY SEASON 2.

#doctor who #star trek #nbc revolution #doctor who oc #star trek oc #tanaka matheson #* & MEET MY OC'S.#ahhhh finally got around to writing out ana's bio !#my oldest baby.

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ghostbandxyou · 5 years

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Weird little things they love about you. This is gonna get pretty NSFW so be warned.

Nihil-

How your body is still in its prime he's a little jealous, to be honest, but watching you move reminds him of the good old days.

Your energy, seeing you get excited about little things brightens his day.

I know he probably can't see well but I think he can see how bright and full of life your eyes are.

Papa i-

It sounds weird but he loves watching you get dressed and not in a sexual way.

He finds it cute and immensely entertaining when you shimmy into skinny jeans he tries to try not to laugh while you try to balance on one foot while sliding your shoes on.

The way you hold hair ties between your teeth while fixing your hair (if it's long enough.)And How your fingers look buttoning your shirts.

He knows it's kinda weird but he doesn't care, plus the blush you get when you catch him staring is irresistible to him.

Papa ii (Slightly NSFW)-

Your voice it's surprising because he's a very stern and silent guy who can stop anyone in their tracks with a look.

He likes listening to you talk could be about anything he often finds himself subconsciously listening into phone calls you're having. He can't help it your voice is just so….you!

This does include dirty talk he's a total dom but he loves hearing you tell him all the dirty things you want him to do to you.

At first, you think he's so quiet on dates because you're talking too much but he assures you it's the opposite actually and tries to describe why he finds it so fascinating

Papa iii (NSFW)-

How sensitive/ ticklish you are

The boy is a tease, Once he figures out easily reactive you are you are done for. He will constantly tease you by ghosting his fingers over your skin while reaching for things during the day making the hairs on your arms stick up.

During church dinners, he will run a single finger up your and down thigh making you squirm in your seat.

Cardinal Copia-

Watching you read.

He loves watching your expressions change. How your forehead scrunches up when you don't understand something, your small smile when something good happens, the way your eyes widen when you read a plot twist.

how your lips move as if you were reading out loud, or when you do whisper the words to yourself.

He adores how engrossed in books you get and finds it strangely adorable to watch you react to words on a page.

Era 3 ghouls:

Omega-

Glasses, he thinks you look super cute wearing them.

If you wore contacts when you met him he will probably be confused but oddly even more attracted to you?

He calls you a sexy librarian which makes you roll your eyes.

He enjoys your Velma moments when you lose your glasses or can’t see. He can't help but laugh.

Alpha (NSFW)-

(This is a long one) It sounds weird but he loves how you walk. he's almost hypnotized by you when you walk by.

the bounce in your step when your happy or the quick pace you set when you're busy. He actually likes how you walk slightly faster than him.

He thinks your ass looks bomb and tends to rest his hand on it while walking with you, making you roll your eyes and swat him away.

loves how your hips sway, you found that if you want his attention all you have to do is walk past him swinging your hips, he will immediately get up from what he's doing or dismiss himself from a conversation to get to you.

When you work out he tends to get distracted by how the muscles in your legs flex while running.

Bonus (He's a big fan of you in shorts or skirts.)

Era 4 ghouls:

Aether-

How you look in the morning.

The lazy half smile you give him in the morning when you've just woken up.

How your hair gets all messy he thinks it’s adorable. If your a person who stretches in the morning you can bet he is watching.

Your groggy voice telling him to fuck off if he tries to wake you too early. He even sorta likes your morning breath

Dewdrop -

Watching you put on makeup

He doesn't understand why you paint your face he thinks you're just as pretty without it.

When you first took of your make up in front of him, his eyes got super wide and he sniffed you cautiously..yep still you.

Now he enjoys watching you as he calls it “paint yourself” he finds it fascinating. He believes there must be some magic involved.

Don't even think about painting his face if you even suggest it he's gone hiding in some close

Swiss (SUPER NSFW)-

He's obsessed with your nails how they look, the way they feel on his skin, how they clack against your phone when your texting.

It is a bit of a sex thing for him. (And I see Swiss as a switch so be warned) He loves the feeling of your nails digging into his skin as he's fucking you especially if you draw blood knowing he's marked as yours.

If you're going down on him he requests that you use your hands to the scrape of your nails around his cock adding to the pleasure of you sucking him off. If he's impatient or feeling more dominant he will grab your head and thrust into your mouth using your mouth as his own personal fuck toy causing you to grab his ass digging your nails into him to hold on.

He loves When you wrap your hands around his throat tilting his head back so he's staring into your lust filled gaze and the marks that it leaves behind.

Rain-

Rain loves how gentle you are, he can be pretty timid sometimes but you always make him feel safe and loved.

He first noticed when he watched you hold one of the clergy's new babies, the way you cradled it in your arms softly, yet still protecting the infant from the world. The smile you had while the baby held on to your pinky with its little fist.

Now he sees it in you all the time. When you helped a duckling who fell into a fountain at the church. How gently you brush and braid the ghouletts hair while hanging out.

The soft knock you do before entering his chambers so not to startle him.

Mountain (NSFWish)-

Tattoos freckles birthmarks etc.. (I feel like all ghouls would have them. Their tattoos correspond to their elements. I got this idea from @ghostheadcanons)

If you have tattoos he wants to know all about them what they mean, Stories behind them if you have plans for more.

Freckles and birthmarks fascinate him it's hard for him to grasp that they aren't tattoos because he thinks they look so perfect on you.

When he sees you naked for the first time he spends the night worshiping your body, kissing and caressing every mark

Tall Ghoulett-

She loves how into things you get. Like how you come running into her chambers just to tell her a new season of the show you watch together is starting next month!

When you tell her all the lore and characters in your favorite game your eyes light up and you flail your hands around wildly trying to convey the story.

If you make fan art or write fan fiction she wants to see it. She loves your art and/or writing style.

If you show her fan art/ fan fiction of the band she gets all blushy and shy.

Plus you introduced her to a bunch of movies, books, shows etc...

Smol Ghoulett (Kinda NSFW)-

She loves how the tips of your ears turn red when you blush.

She playfully teases you a lot to make you blush. Nothing hurtful or mean she mostly just makes innuendos or whispers naughty things in your ear.

like if your cooking dinner she will come up behind you and whisper “I’m gonna mash your potatoes.” then pulls away smiling while you are blushing up a storm.

So some of these are kinda lame I started running out of ideas but others I spent a lot of time on (Swiss) let me know what you think!

(quick note this is a side blog so any questions can be sent to my main http://xx-motionless-in-reverse-xx.tumblr.com/ )

#the band ghost #ghost band #nameless ghoul #ghost bc #ghost headcanons #nameless ghouls #aether ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #mountain ghoul #rain ghoul #era 4 ghouls #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iii #papa ii #papa i #papa nihil #papa emeritus zero #swiss army ghoul #ghouls

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