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galahadwilder · 4 years

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It was like she was losing all control. But then again, when was the last time she had control of anything?

Broken Masks

Chapter 1: The Mortifying Ordeal

(For anyone who’s confused: I asked for two-sentence prompts back in either August or September. I’ve still got a few on reserve.)

“If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.” --Tim Kreider

Marinette looked out her window to the crowd of reporters gathered below and couldn’t hold back a whimper. So many people, all looking for her, to worship her or berate her or—it didn’t matter. They were all here for her. And she couldn’t escape them. Not anymore.

She felt gentle fingers wrap around her limp wrist. “Shhh, shh, shh,” her mother said, pulling her limp daughter into her lap on the chaise. Maman held her tightly, stroking her hair, tugging Marinette’s gravity blanket around their shoulders. “Don’t look, pumpkin,” she said as the old chaise squeaked under their combined weight. “Nobody here but us.”

“You’re going to be okay, Marinette,” Tikki said, nestled in her hair, earning another sidelong look from Maman, but the Kwami’s words were lost as Marinette’s breathing began to come in gasps.

Marinette felt like a baby, desperate for her mother’s arms, as the whole world tried to break down her front door. She wasn’t ready for this—it was like she was losing all control. But then again, when was the last time she had control of anything?

Normal girl with a normal life? She couldn’t believe she’d ever bought that lie.

Taking off the mask had always been easy. Two words and Ladybug would vanish, she’d drop off the face of the Earth and be replaced by average unremarkable Marinette, able to slip beneath notice, to take a break from all the overwhelming attention and the adoration. But that had just been the illusion of control—even with the mask off, she’d always been Ladybug, and all it would take was one slip-up and she’d never be able to take it off again.

With the mask separating her from the rest of the world, keeping her privacy, she hadn’t noticed when she’d become famous enough as Marinette that people had begun to watch her. Everyone looked at Ladybug. Being able to take off that face and become Marinette—she’d taken that for granted. She’d settled into her illusion of safety, and now it was gone. She’d never be “just Marinette” again.

But in the absence of her normal barrier, there were other ones—ones she could never have erected by herself. Her father’s whole family had come together for the first time since before the wedding, just to protect her: Mama Gina and Papa Roland had even managed to ignore their usual hatred of each other to agree that they could work together to make sure that nobody made it up the stairs. Her classmates had gathered into a makeshift wall between the reporters and the bakery doors; even if anyone did get into the shop, there was no way they could make it into her apartment with both Ivan and her father were sitting on the trapdoor, holding it down with their combined weight. (Ivan had insisted on protecting her personally. “I owe you for Stoneheart,” he’d told her.)

“We’re so proud of you, Pumpkin,” her father said with a sad smile, straining to reach out to her while trying to keep his full weight on the trapdoor in case someone had slipped past his parents downstairs. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

Her nerves began to squeeze in her wrists, shooting fire down to her fingers and up through her chest as she began to shake. Easy for him to say that everything was going to be all right; he wasn’t responsible for the safety of an entire city, he hadn’t just lost the only protection he’d had against a magical terrorist, he wasn’t… but she could see in his face, in the tightness hiding behind his mustache, how terrified he was, how he was trying to keep it together for her.

The babble of the crowd downstairs began to rise, pressing down onto her brain, and she curled closer to her mother with a whimper. Tikki cooed, scratching Marinette’s scalp with her paws.

Suddenly there was a shout, and all the sound outside stopped.

Marinette jerked upward, her eyes locked on the window. She couldn’t get an angle, couldn’t see the street—

Her mother swallowed. “Sweetie,” she said, “don’t look.”

Marinette didn’t listen.

She yanked herself out of her mother’s arms and shot up from the chaise, peering through her window to see the crowd parted around the familiar bald head of Alec Cataldi. His face was turned, a palm pressed to his cheek, and his expression—from what Marinette could see—was one of shock and pain.

It was easy to see why. Alya stood before him, towering over him despite their relative heights, her fist hooked just past Cataldi’s face, right where his cheek would have been. Marinette couldn’t see her best friend’s face but she knew that stance. If you touch my friend I will annihilate you.

Alec’s glare snapped toward Alya, the smile leaving his smug face for the first time in Marinette’s memory. He pointed at Alya, spat something angry and stupid. Looked around at the other reporters for… solidarity maybe?

Instead, Chloé stepped forward, right next to Alya, phone in hand, planting herself next to the other girl. The crowd parted before her—they all backed away, eyes down in shame, steadfastly avoiding looking at Alya.

Marinette’s gaze shot upward, peering into the blue sky, searching for violet specks across the azure. “Ivan,” she whispered, hugging her shoulders. “Can you… send Alya a thank-you text?”

Ivan perked up. “Why?” he said. “What’d she do?”

Marinette bit her lip as she turned back to the chaise. “She just punched Alec Cataldi.” She shouldn’t be laughing, she thought, climbing back into her mother’s lap. She was a superhero… but Cataldi’s particular lack of ethics and tact had put her through hell since the day he rigged the weathergirl contest. She couldn’t help feeling some satisfaction at knowing someone had finally made him feel consequences.

“Cataldi,” Papa snarled, pressing his palms to the trapdoor until his fingers went white. “I swear, that man has no sense of appropriateness. He’s caused more Akuma than—”

Ivan placed a hand on Papa’s forearm with a raised eyebrow, and Papa froze.

“We need to stay calm,” Ivan said, softly. “She’s in no condition to be fighting family right now.”

Papa swallowed. “Yes… right,” he said. “I… thank you.” He seemed to visibly deflate at the thought of not berserking on the abusive game show host.

“You know,” Mama cooed, “I bet if Ladybug complained you could get that man fired.”

Tikki hissed. “Marinette, no!”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t gonna,” she said.

She was tempted, though. The man should’ve known to stop humiliating people on air after the first time one of them got Akumatized, but he never really learned, did he?

“Stray cat strut, I’m a ladies cat,” her phone suddenly shouted from her desk.

Marinette’s stomach clenched, and she dove for it, her fingers scrabbling for her pink case as it continued: “I’m a feline Casanova, hey man that’s that.”

“It’s him.”

Papa’s head immediately swiveled. “Is he okay? Is he safe?”

“Get a shoe thrown at me from a mean old man, Get my dinner from a garbage can!”

Marinette stared at her phone, at the obnoxious face of Nyan Cat she’d put into “Chris Nicolas’s” phone contact to hide his identity, back when that still mattered. She hadn’t thought to change his contact picture yet. Should she—no, not the time. “He’s calling from the baton,” she muttered. That wasn’t a good sign. He was supposed to be talking to his father right now.

She should change his ringtone, too. “Shoe thrown at me by a mean old man”—couldn’t be more foreboding for this particular call if she’d tried. She shivered.

She answered the call. “Kitty?” she breathed. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

He laughed, but not Chat’s prankster laugh, or Adrien’s genuine sunshine one—this one was rueful, sad, broken. “Hiding on the Trocadero,” he said, his voice strangely muffled, like he’d stuffed cotton into his cheeks. “I—My Lady, I don’t think I can go back.”

Marinette swallowed as a shiver passed up her upper arms. She tried to force down tears—he didn’t need her to break down right now, he needed solutions.

“What happened?” she choked out.

“He tried to—” Chat’s voice broke. “To… take the ring. When I wouldn’t give it to him…” He sobbed. “He... he was so angry...”

Her heart rocketed into her throat, and the chaise squeaked under her legs as she shifted. No. “Chaton,” she said, “what did he do?”

“He threatened me. Said he’d throw me out.”

“You—” It couldn’t be. Even Gabriel wouldn’t—wouldn’t be so cruel. Could it? “Throw you out?”

Her father read the expression on her face and nodded. “We protect him,” he said to his wife with a determined set to his jaw. “With the number of times he’s saved her—”

“He stays here,” Maman agreed, softly but firmly.

Marinette squeezed her eyes and shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “This is the first place his father… or, or Hawkmoth, will look.”

“My Lady,” Chat said. “He—he hit me.”

“No.” Marinette’s fingers were shaking—only holding her phone to her face kept them from outright quaking. His voice—no wonder it sounded so strange... “Adri—Kitty, Chaton, Mon Minou, I’m so sorry, I’m—I’m—”

He gasped. “Butterfly,” he said.

The phone dropped from slack fingers. “Tikki!” she screamed. “Spots on!”

She didn’t have time to see her parents’ reactions before she’d launched herself from the chaise and out the skylight. She couldn’t even imagine what they must be feeling, must be thinking; seeing it on the news was one thing, but watching your daughter transform in the middle of her room from clumsy, anxious Marinette to the unstoppable Hero of Paris?

She heard screaming from the crowd down below as cameras caught her vaulting across the street. She was sure every newspaper and tabloid in Paris—except the Ladyblog—was going to have an original image from this moment by the end of the day, but she didn’t have time to care about that. Didn’t have time to think about anything else, just her partner, somewhere she couldn’t see, desperately scrabbling backwards away from the oncoming butterfly. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she raced toward him—

She found him on a roof, staring blankly at his clenched fist.

“I killed it,” he said, his voice cracking. One green pad was missing from his ring.

Her heart leaped at the sight, and she barely touched down on the roof before she collapsed into his arms, shivering.

After a moment of surprise, he pulled her in close. “I’m okay,” he whispered, stroking her hair. “I’m okay.”

Ladybug whimpered, shook her head. “Both our identities got blown to the entirety of Paris,” she said. “You—your father hurt you.”

“My Lady, I’m fine—”

“Adrien,” she interrupted, “you are allowed to not be okay.”

He stared for a moment, eyes wide and watering, before he collapsed into her, sobbing into her hair.

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blatherkatt · 6 years

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Title: The Calm Is Terrifying When The Storm Is All You Know [Homestuck]

Chapter 23: A Temporary Parting Of Ways

Summary: There were two kinds of trolls who went to Earth: rich shitheads with too much money and free time, and desperate assholes who couldn’t survive on Alternia, even with the best efforts of the young Condesce. Karkat hated the planet almost immediately, but with his home planet too dangerous for mutants, he really didn’t have any choice but to hide out on this weird little diurnal planet. At least he’d be safe. Or so he thought, right before blundering his way into an accidental friendship with the son of an anti-troll terrorist.

Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: Mentioned/implied abuse, internalized homophobia, more possible disordered eating/its closer to just bad eating habits learned from the abuse but i feel i should still warn for it

FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

Things had been…relatively quiet, the past few weeks.

Ever since Dave and Dirk had finally worked things out on the roof, it seemed that with nothing in particular to wind themselves up over, the house had finally managed to actually become as peaceful as ‘a big house out in the middle of the woods’ implied. Not that things were perfect between her brothers, mind, but there was good mixed in with the bad, and even the tense moments were far less terrible.

A few days after that talk, for instance, Rose had been helping Dirk unload groceries as always. Dave had come down, looking like he’d been caught stealing, but Dirk had simply tossed him a bag.

“Didn’t know which kind you like, so I just grabbed a few,” he’d said.

Dave had opened the bag, let a small smile spread across his face, said “Sweet,” and scurried back upstairs with a grateful nod at Dirk.

And since then it had seemed like whatever blockage was keeping them from progressing had been fully cleared away. They still moved in a series of frustrating baby steps, an infuriatingly endless process of trial and error, but even that was better than the vicious cycle of stagnation before, and Rose could see, day by day, Dave was well and truly starting to settle in.

(He was unfortunately a lot more nervous around Roxy, now, and he wouldn’t let her wrap an arm around his shoulders in the way she often did while speaking to people. He did, at the very least, seem to forgive her, however, especially after Roxy promised about fifty times over that she was never going to do that to him again.)

But things were never truly quiet in this house — there was always something. Even as Dave got better during the day, he was growing worse at night. Ever more frequent were the occurrences of his paranoia growing fierce enough that he would wake Rose up — Dirk’s room was still apparently akin to the lion’s den, and he couldn’t yet bring himself to fetch their elder sibling himself. The lost sleep was starting to grate on her, but she was careful not to direct her frustration at him. She’d learned that lesson well enough, being angry at him would only frighten him more; and besides, it was hardly his fault. That blame rested solely on the man who’d taught him to fear small noises so much.

Still, something would have to be done about that in the near future — with school starting up again in just three weeks, she really couldn’t afford to be losing this much sleep long-term. Dirk may have long since adapted himself to being a creature of the night, but Rose had no such skill.

More pressing than even that, however, was the trend that had come up in just the past few days: The trolls seemed to be fighting.

They wouldn’t say about what, and whenever Rose or Dave happened upon them mid-argument, Karkat would cut the conversation off and storm out of the room. Kanaya would only promise vaguely that she’d explain soon enough, and that Karkat was making it much more of a problem than it actually was.

“This isn’t about that, ahem, ‘pale-crush’ you’ve told me about, is it?” Rose grinned, after one such occurrence in early August.

Kanaya bit her lip. “Well, not directly,” she said, “but I fear it’s what may be clouding his vision. It’s…this is a good thing, in the long run, I promise, but it has some, um, short-term impacts that Karkat is not very happy about.”

Rose raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” she said. “Dear me, I’ll have to work overtime to quash my burning curiosity. I eagerly await learning what this is all about.”

“Then you’ll be waiting on Karkat,” Kanaya said, “because honestly I’m mostly just waiting for him to stop being so argumentative about this. We’d only be gone for three days, anyway, he doesn’t need to be so fussy.”

“Wait, you’re leaving?” Rose said, snapping to attention.

“What?” came Dave’s voice. He was standing on the stairs — Rose hadn’t even noticed him come down.

“Shoot,” said Kanaya.

What followed was a small bout of chaos — Mom and Dirk both needed to be part of this conversation, after all. Dirk was just in the basement, but Mom took a few rounds of phone tag to contact, and then Dirk had to go fetch her from work, and in the end it took nearly two hours to get everyone gathered downstairs to hear exactly what was going on. During that time, Dave scarcely left Karkat’s side (who only begrudgingly agreed to participate in the conversation after being asked several times. Rose privately suspected he had acquiesced purely due to the look of near-desperation on Dave’s face). Rose couldn’t blame him; she’d grown so used to the trolls being here that the thought of them leaving, even temporarily, felt…wrong, somehow. Karkat’s stomping around truly had become one of the features of home, almost as natural a sound as the chirping of birds outside, and Kanaya was, well. She was Kanaya.

Speaking of whom, once everyone was gathered around in the living room and seated, Kanaya’s hands skimmed along the fabric of her skirt, a nervous habit Rose had learned to recognize as a sign that she was trying to sort together her thoughts into words. “Well, you see, Porrim, who is, um, the rainbow drinker who’s been helping me, by the way —”

“Oh, great,” Karkat grumbled.

“Quite fortunately so,” Kanaya said, tossing a glare his way before continuing, “As I don’t know what I would have done if that hadn’t proved to be the case, she’s been endlessly helpful filling me in on things, but, um. Right, we’re talking about why Karkat and I would need to leave. Well, it seems that Porrim has actually been planning in a somewhat long term sense on eventually moving her shop up to this sort of general area, maybe not here exactly but…she called the area in mind ‘New England,’ I believe?”

“That’s a name that’s used as shorthand for a few states, of which New York is one,” Rose said. “It makes sense to me that she’d want to move up here, we’re a bit more…trendy, shall we say, than your average Texan.”

“What, spurs and horses aren’t trendy enough for you?” Dave drawled. Rose shoved him gently.

“Right, well,” said Kanaya, twisting her fingers together in nervous patterns, “Apparently, as a result of my new condition, she’s taken it as…a sign of sorts, to speed up this process. She’s moving her shop up to a town not too far from here, which is wonderful, because it means that even when this whole mess is sorted out and Karkat doesn’t need to live here anymore for his own safety, we can all still be close enough to, you know, see each other regularly.”

Rose bit back her first response. Somehow, the trolls living here had shifted from feeling deeply temporary in those first few weeks to now feeling like a permanent change, and instinctively, she found that she really did dislike the idea that they were just going to leave. There was no reason to. Lord knew the house had plenty of room.

Then again, perhaps it was a bit forward of her to assume that they would continue living together indefinitely when they hadn’t, technically, officially, agreed to be anything more than friends? Not that Rose didn’t want to be something more, nor did she have any reason to think that Kanaya felt any different, but somehow they just…hadn’t really talked about that yet.

She was getting there. Slowly. Eventually. These things had to be handled with tact, especially with someone as wonderful as Kanaya.

“In any case,” Kanaya said, smiling faintly, “the good news is that she’s already on the road and should be here in a couple of days, at which point she’ll need some help to unpack and set up the shop. Which, of course, we’re going to do,” another glare at Karkat, “Because she has been nothing but kind and helpful to the both of us and the least we can do is take a few days to help her settle in, can’t we, Karkat?”

Karkat groaned one of his most theatrical groans, complete with a rolling of his eyes so pronounced and exaggerated that his whole head seemed about to drop off his shoulders.

“Karkat, come on, you know how much this job means to me, and it’s only three days!” Kanaya hissed.

“She’s not gonna fire you over us being busy!” he barked back.

“At least let me go to help, then,” she said.

“You can’t just leave me alone here in chaos central!”

“Does Terezi know about this?” Dirk interrupted. “I mean, I’m happy as shit for you guys, it’s good to know that even whenever things are hopefully settled enough for everyone to move on with our fucking lives, we won’t be breaking up the, uh,” he flicked a gaze between Rose and Kanaya, and then between Dave and Karkat. “…Friendships,” he said, carefully. “But Terezi’s the one who really ought to be aware of this, since Karkat’s still potentially in danger.”

“She’s aware,” said Kanaya, “Don’t worry, I’ve talked to her about this as well. She’s prepared to have a couple local officers on standby in case anything pops up, but so far as she can tell, she doesn’t think that Karkat’s being actively, um, hunted, at this time.”

“There’s a fucking first,” Karkat grumbled. Rose raised an eyebrow at Dave, who shook his head faintly. Whatever that was about, now was evidently not the time to talk about it.

Kanaya paused for a moment, thinking. “She actually mentioned that she rather preferred you being away from this house, in truth,” she said.

Karkat snapped up to attention, a low, alien growl echoing in his voice as he spat, “What?!”

“She said that she’s worried about whatever Strider’s next move will be,” Kanaya said, “That he will probably take a more direct action, and that we were lucky that he wasn’t here in person last time to recognize you, and that while as best she can tell his men have stayed active in Texas, she’d feel better if you’re far enough away from this hive to be out of immediate danger.”

“I can fucking protect myself!” Karkat was bristling, more worked up than ever. “God fucking dammit, I don’t wanna fucking face Strider in the flesh, but I’m not so fragile I need to be in a fucking mail-order protective sheet cocoon at all times!”

“You won’t be!” Kanaya insisted. “Just for three days! Why are you so opposed to this? You were complaining just a couple weeks ago about never getting to leave this hive!”

Rose caught the way Karkat’s eyes darted towards Dave for the briefest of moments, and did her best to stifle a small smile.

“I just —“ Karkat spluttered, “I don’t — Fuck, fine! I’ll help unload a bunch of shitty boxes for a few days, whatever! Be so glad to get out and stretch my fucking legs.”

“Thank you,” Kanaya said, tension slipping out of her. “We won’t be leaving for another couple of days, anyway, so it’s not like we’re leaving right this second.”

“Whatever,” Karkat grumbled, stomping away upstairs. Dave stood for a moment, torn between saying something and following after, before evidently deciding on the latter.

“I think he took that rather well,” said Rose.

Fuck leaving. But also fuck telling Kanaya why, he was not interested in another round of nosy friends criticizing his futile pale crush on a clueless human.

Karkat stormed toward his room, stifling a growl. Yeah, sure, whatever, it was only three days, but he didn’t fucking…The thought of leaving Dave alone for that long, for any amount of time, made him nervous, which was stupid considering Dave was probably better at defending himself than Karkat was between knowing how to use a sword and that flashstep bullshit, but fuck it, he couldn’t help it! Not that he should feel like this — there was literally no one in the hive anymore that was in any way a threat to Dave! Even Dirk had turned out to really genuinely care about the guy’s well being once he’d pushed through the massive heap of whatever the fuck it was blocking that, and with that disgusting sewer clog out of the way, he could tell Dave was feeling more at ease!

Shoving his door closed behind him, he flopped down on the human sleeping contraption, pulling the blankets into a makeshift nest, fussing and rearranging it just so. Some layer of his subconscious trying to yell that this was his place, or something, maybe. He wasn’t really paying attention to what he was doing, letting his hands do whatever while he chased down his own thoughts.

But what if something happened when he was gone? What if he wasn’t here, and —

He shook the thought out of his mind. No matter how badly he wanted to be, they weren’t moirails, they weren’t anything. Dave wasn’t gay, as he’d so clearly stated so many times. There was no way they’d be anything, and he should just accept that and stop trying to be the big bad protector for a guy who didn’t need it and wasn’t interested —

“Dude, you’re gonna shred those sheets if you keep that up.”

He whirled his head around to see Dave, having crept in as quietly as he always moved, standing just inside the doorway. “You okay, man?” he said. “You seemed ornerier than usual, which is a fuckin’ feat and a half.”

“I’m fine, Dave,” Karkat said, forcing himself to relax his hands, “Just…Pissed off.”

Dave shifted his weight. “Yeah, I get that, man. This shit did kinda come outta nowhere, and all, and I know you ain’t as used to getting uprooted at a moments notice as I am, like. It sounds from what you’ve told me like you lived in one place pretty much your whole life? And now you’ve been, like, yanked off your entire planet, and then once you got used to one place dragged off to another, and now they’re pullin’ you away again, and. I, uh. I’m sorry, is I guess what I’m trying to say? Not because it’s my fault or anything. You know, this time. But sorta just a general sorry that shit sucks, you know?”

Karkat just let him ramble on. God, something about the aimlessness of his rambling could be bizarrely fucking soothing at times, just a gentle monotone voice saying nothing hugely important, its constant presence a reminder that Dave was still there. He was completely on the wrong track as to why Karkat was angry, of course, but it was hard not to appreciate the effort.

(And moments like this were the worst part of the whole mess. Moments where Dave would send these fucking…mixed signals, leaving Karkat scrambling to piece together what Dave actually thought out of the barriers and facades and the ever-present pure nonsense. The guy kept going on about how he super wasn’t into guys at all, so Karkat would mentally chide himself on any fantasies of a relationship, but then he’d turn around and do shit like this, coming after him exactly like one half of the serendipitous pair of any novel or movie Karkat had ever devoured, checking that he was okay — sure, humans were a lot more prone to doing that sort of thing in general, but. It couldn’t…it had to mean something, right? And then Dave would harp on the ‘gay’ thing again, and Karkat would force his hopes right back down into the shame pit where they belonged.)

“And, I mean, like, no homo, but.”

(Exactly like that, yep. That was exactly it. Boy, the shame pit sure was cozy this time of sweep. Year. Whatever.)

Dave shuffled his feet awkwardly before continuing. “It’s gonna be weird as fuck without you here, even if it’s not for long. God, I’m gonna be bored as hell without you to argue about bullshit with. It’s gonna be like a fuckin’ high school parking lot in July around here, all quiet and shit, and I’m the one loser hanging around cuz I got nowhere else to go.”

“Have you considered maybe getting a fucking hobby, Dave?”

He snorted. “Oh, yeah man, with all this fuckin’ freedom to do shit I got, no problem. I’ll just get on the fuckin’ computer and do shit, maybe start taking walks outside.”

“There’s things you can do without leaving the hive or having internet, dumbass. Read a fucking book, I don’t know.”

Dave was quiet for one rare, painfully short moment. That all too brief moment passed, he said, “Dude, seriously, are you alright? I know bein’ surly is your thing, an’ all, but you’re sorta…you seem more pissed off than usual.”

No, Karkat thought. No, he wasn’t okay, he was hopelessly pale-smitten with an alien who couldn’t possibly understand the nuances of that sort of romance and consistently strung his feelings out on an endless up and down cycle of maybe-whoops-guess-not, and it fucking hurt, but he was too fucking invested to give up on him, to the point that being gone for even a few days made his naive, smitten bloodpusher twist in agony.

“Yeah,” Karkat said instead, “I’m just…fucking pissed that this got sprung on me outta nowhere, like you said.”

Dave thought for a moment, and then shrugged. “If you say so, man,” he said, and flopped down next to Karkat on the sleeping platform.

Much as he disliked eating in front of other people (it always made him feel like someone was going to chastise him for it or take it away, even though he knew by now that they weren’t, but he couldn’t help it any more than he could help the need to hide food in his closet), since the trolls were gonna be gone for a while, he joined the rest of the family-plus-two downstairs for dinner on the evening before they took off.

Mom had tried to make…something. It tasted fine, albeit kinda burnt, but Dave really had no idea what the fuck it was or what was in it. She seemed so proud of herself for cooking, though, that he really didn’t have the heart to ask.

That aside, though, if there was one thing Dave’s limited experience with family meals had taught him so far, it was that, fuck, they tended to turn awkward and uncomfortable. Like this one, for instance: somehow, the conversation had inevitably turned to Bro again. Mom wasn’t waxing poetic about fuckin’ Uncle Dave again, but still, shit was uncomfortable. Bro was a jackass sometimes, but he was…well, he…Dave didn’t like hearing how harsh they got, he guessed. It made something in his gut twist in knots to make pretzels jealous, but he was too nervous about accidentally getting into an argument to really speak up.

He settled for pushing his food around his plate awkwardly (he’d eaten about half, and was still hungry, but…well, if this’d been back in Texas, this woulda been the point where he’d done his best to save the rest for later, maybe steal some ice from the fridge so that the rest of the meal could be breakfast tomorrow, and he did know that wasn’t necessary here, but…) and listening with half an ear.

“Maybe we can call Aunt Ramona to hex him,” Dirk said, sarcasm dripping so thick you could spread it on pancakes. Dave perked up, keeping his face toward his plate still but spending a bit more of his thought process on paying attention.

“Oh ye of little faith,” Rose said, weaving her fork through the air for emphasis, “Who’s to say she couldn’t?”

“Rose, our aunt isn’t a fucking witch, she’s just a woman who simultaneously enjoys her privacy and has a flair for the dramatic.”

“What, Ramona?” Mom said, nearly but not quite spilling her wine with how fast her glass got pulled away from her lips.

“Mom, come on, back me up here,” Dirk said. “This farce has gone on for long enough, but Rose keeps playing up the rumors about her. You grew up with her, you’d know better than anyone that she can’t actually curse people or whatever.”

“Well, I dunno about cursing them,” said Mom, sitting back thoughtfully. Dirk flashed Rose a victorious smirk, which very quickly faded when Mom continued, “’s far as I know, she never went for that sorta thing. She’d more likely just fuck ‘em up directly, sick some murder shadows on them or just call down lightning if she’s pissed enough. Then again, Iunno, maybe her powers’ve changed over the years, I ain’t kept track.”

“Powers?!” Dirk sputtered. Rose had set her fork down, her face a picture of delight, hands clasped together.

“Oh, yeah, your aunt’s magic as fuck,” Mom said, grinning woozily. Dirk sounded like he was about to choke on air.

“What, like…seriously?” Dave said. “Like, are you just fucking around? Are we talkin’ fuckin’ backyard magician shit or straight up necromancy?”

“Like black lightning and visions of the future n shit,” Mom said. “It runs in the family or somethin’. Like, I dunno the specifics, that shit skipped me entirely, but like…she started hearin’ ghosts and talkin’ to birds around the time she turned…13, I think? And from there shit just got reeeaaal crazy.”

“This — Mom,” Dirk said, desperately. “Mom, you can’t be serious.”

“I’m dead fuckin’, hic, fuckin’ serious, Dirk,” she said, clearly very much enjoying herself. “How d’you think we survived in a fuckin’ mall for six years? That shit wasn’t bomb proof, it was a mall. But we never had to worry ‘bout it, cuz every time one of their lil’ ships got too close, she’d just….BOOM. Right out the sky. Couldn’t really do big ships, but those didn’t come after us too often, since we weren’t that big a group of humans, but the little ones, fuck. No goddamn match.”

Rose was staring at Rachel, clearly ecstatic at this revelation but also a bit incredulous. “Why did you not think to mention this until now, Mom?” she asked.

“Iunno, you kids never asked,” she shrugged. “I always kinda figured it was obvious? Like, how the fuck do you not look at Ramona and go, holy shit, that’s a fuckin’ real life majycks user if I ever fuckin’ saw one.”

“So, she really is a real life witch, then?!” Kanaya was fuckin’ bouncing off the couch, holy shit.

“Hells yes,” said Mom. “Derek was always so fuckin’ nervous around her, too, it was the funniest goddamn thing. She always kept such a tight lid on what exactly she could do, he had no idea what to expect from her, which, for a guy as fucking anal about planning everything out to the tiniest detail as he is, was always just the worst.”

Mom kept rambling on, but Dave got distracted by the expression of disbelief on Dirk’s face. Holy shit. Dude had met a literal police dragon, lived with a vampire, and yet his aunt being a witch was too much?

Apparently so, as Dirk stood, plate in hand, and walked off downstairs, chased out by the sounds of laughter from the rest of the household.

The next morning, both the trolls had packed enough clothes and such for three days, and Karkat was, at this point, fucking eager to get going. Might as well rip off the medical adhesive quickly. The sooner they got out, the sooner they could start helping with the move, and, shit, maybe they’d be able to finish early and come back sooner.

Rose and Kanaya of course turned the whole thing into their weird, cagey, flirty-who-me-I-would-never nonsense, of fucking course. He noticed that they did also trade phone numbers, though, which he was privately relieved about. Good. They’d be able to check in, then.

Not that Dave needed checking in on, of course. He’d be just goddamn fine, he didn’t need some short, shouty asshole mutant holding him back and wasting his time. Whatever.

He was so caught up in his usual self loathing bullshit, he almost didn’t notice Dave coming up and lightly tapping him on the shoulder.

“Hey, uh. No…” Dave rubbed the back of his head, his other hand shoved into one of his pockets. Karkat braced himself for the inevitable. “No bullshit, real talk,” Dave said, sighing, “I know it’s just a few days, but I’m seriously gonna miss you.”

Karkat pricked his ears and tried hard to stamp down the spark of hope. Outwardly, he snorted, and said “Yeah, well, same to you, I guess. It’ll be fucking weird not having this obnoxious thorn in my side, burrowing its way into my flesh at all hours.” He couldn’t keep a hint of affection out of his voice, damn it, maybe Dave wouldn’t notice.

Dave huffed a quiet laugh. “Seriously, though, take care of yourself, alright?” he said.

“…Yeah,” said Karkat, “You, too.”

#homestuck #dave strider #karkat vantas #rose lalonde #kanaya maryam #longpost//#fanfic #fanfiction #katt does a writing #calmvsstormfic #calmvsstormchapter #this ones not great but i wanna get it over with and get to the next one #cuz boy howdy the next six chapters r so are gonna be...fun

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yeahitscory · 7 years

Text

The Places You Come To Fear The Most

One year ago, I wouldn’t have dreamed to be sitting in my hometown again without my soulmate. But it’s reality. I look back at my precious months I fought and thought so hard..i’m so different now. Better. Wiser. Actually proud of myself and thankful for all that surrounds me. I get to see the sunrise over the lake every morning, I Breathe. I can hear the Robins in the trees. I drive to work where it takes my energy and sweat. My mind is sharp and purpose still in tact.

Nashville. A vacation I was so happy to take her on because I knew she was overwhelmed. I wanted to bless her. She deserved it. Part of that trip i was distant when I needed to be closer. Time slipped away.

June. Miserable wasn’t a good enough word. After a truth I didn’t want to come to grips with arrived, I was a puddle. She still needed me to be there and I was but I held tight with a tough grip because I didn’t wanna lose her despite another man. Grace. It’s all I knew.

July. Help arrived. She left. Alone in our bed I barely slept. Oh the thoughts that hit your mind..what ifs, what if not..things kept rolling downhill and the train wouldnt stop. Embrace her, fight for what you love even if it doesn’t love you. Desperation was my attitude and depression my ally. I slipped away from my true self. I could see my change. I was falsely accused. What i wanted for good, blew up in my face. Concern was my only concern. Don’t let it fall away. This can’t happen. I miss you too much.

August. Race is almost over I can see the finish line. I don’t want the prize. This is not why I was running. Where is my partner. She’s checked out. There’s nothing I can do. I lost my job and sold the house on top of this. Moving day is soon. Enter stage left, David.

September. Chapters are written. Regret sets in. New state. New job. New life. All I can think about is her. There’s no one else I want to see. I cant. Yelling. Packing. Her mouth isn’t smiling at me anymore. It’s someone else’s now. Frustration and stupidity flood me. Friends over a life? Can’t be right? The war with myself continues because of actions and words. Can I escape it? Back to my roots. GA. What we built, just now..ashes.

Fall. House is sold to a beautiful young couple. Grateful. Deftones plays “Change”. I watched a change in you. It’s like you never had wings. First dance 12-1-12. I love the way she spreads her wings. It’s all a memory. She wears his shirt to the closing. I wanna talk stuff out. I want to kiss her and look at her like I did when we were sleeping. Gone. Why did this happen? Adjust. Keep your head up. Life still goes on. What does God have for a wretched son like me..

November. Anti depressants. Alcohol. In desperate need of affection. Thanksgiving. What could I be happy for? We’re not laughing at the dinner table. Love finds a way. It doesn’t envy. Keep going.

December. Anniversary. Rough. Friends appear. Suddenly I muster a smile. Maybe I can get her a gift. Still love and miss her at this point. Family feels like in shambles but we endure. Morning still comes. Though I walk through the valley..

January. New beginning. I decide to stay strong. Church is good. My tears are less frquent. She still inhabits my mind. Is she okay? I developed a routine. It steadied me. Keep my heart functioning. Tired though.

30. How can I be that? Parents have really blessed me. I start seeing life as good again. I have friends that encourage and build me up. February is my month. I see the world clearer. I actually feel myself At the end but, why is she not here?

March. Don’t look back. Meds are gone. You smile. I smile. It’s mutual. She clearly moved on. Sad. 7 years of nothing. Not to me though. She was never a mistake. This is just freewill. Her heart matters. My heart matters too. I know now.

April. Life is beautiful. Costa Rica in July for a mission trip. Music blaring in my new (er) car. Cool evenings. Walking in the neighborhood. Miss my house. I missed GA. Can’t wait to travel. God’s plan is weird and he gives us a choice to follow or not. Black and white. No grey area. I don’t use my mistakes and his grace as a crutch or a get out of jail free card..it’s way more than that. I know myself better than ever and I know what to tolerate. What signs to see. I pray for her everyday. All I need to do is set my sight to the future. With great power comes great responsibility.

May or half of it…sleepy from work. Reflecting. Balance and composure has been my soundtrack. Seeing a braves game Sunday with a great girl. No hurry.

God does have plans. God isn't bound by time. His ways are higher and his knowledge infinite. Never try to play God. I know this.

Sometimes shit really does happen. Write that down.

Protect what you love and fight for it.

You never know what someone is dealing with and learn to hell them and support them. Friends, husbands, wives..everyday.

Don’t give up. With every failure comes success.

Forgive.

I hope that this complaint or rant or whatever, helps. It did for me. No matter if divorce or affairs or anything that hurts you, you can be okay. Know that. Watch your words. They are valuable. Do not blame shift. Man up or woman up. Lastly, compassion is key. Communicate. Do not hide how you feel. Love never fails. LOVE. NEVER. FAILS goodnight.

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