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isthataneren · 4 years

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apologies ~ bakugou katsuki

request: hello! I was wondering if you could do a Bakugou x Reader (if requests are open ofc❤️). Maybe Bakugou said something he didn’t mean to the Reader, and she like leaves the middle of class to go to the bathroom to cry- and like some of the girls go to comfort her/ask if she’s doing fine. But that doesn’t help- so Bakugou ditches class and goes to comfort her in the girls bathroom, and the other girls are like “cUtE”. Sorry if this made no sense but I thought it would be cute 😳. love your writing!

a/n: Thank you! And of course! This is a really cute idea and I may have went overboard with it haha but I hope you like it! It kind of turned into a first ‘I love you’ scenario too...

∫ pairing: bakugou x fem!reader

∫ warnings: cussing, (too much?) fluff, slight angst in the beginning

∫ word count: 1.7k+

Being with Bakugou had its ups and downs. Most of the time he was kind to you in his own way; pressing a chaste kiss to your head before class in the morning as he walked by your desk or shoving a drink in your hand when he sat with you at lunch.

Occasionally he would say things that others would see as mean to say, especially involving you and your fighting. Nothing bad necessarily, just criticizing your form. You knew he meant well with his slightly harsh remarks but sometimes he would say or do something that would hit you deep. Even if you knew what he said wasn’t intended to be offensive, it still could affect you. This has only happened once in your relationship so far, and today was that day, unfortunately.

You were sitting in the classroom, waiting for the next class to start. Today had been pretty bad so far. There wasn’t much reason for why you felt so upset but you guessed it was all of the all nighters you’ve been pulling to finish a project that you didn’t even want to do to begin with. The other people who were supposed to help you ditched so you were stuck with doing all of the work. Figures.

The stress had been weighing on you for a while, causing you to be pushed to a limit you didn’t know you had.

Of course, this was also a day when Bakugou wasn’t feeling too nifty either. I mean, he normally didn’t look like he was happy but today he was even grumpier than normal. When you went to greet him, he only grunted in response, which in hindsight you should have picked up on right away that he didn’t want to be bothered. Due to your inability to pay attention when you’re stressed, however, it slipped your attention.

It only got worse as the day progressed. You would try to ask him something and he would still only grunt at you, not bothering to look up from what he was doing. This was causing you to become a little more upset than you already were. Was he mad at you? Did you do something wrong? Did something happen that he wasn’t telling you?

All of the negative thoughts were causing your head to spin so you decided to do the only rational thing (at least it seemed rational at the time) and confront him about it.

The bell had just wrung to signal class switch. You had around five minutes to ask Bakugou what was wrong.

You slowly approached his desk, taking a deep breath to steel your nerves.

“Katsuki...”

“...” No response.

“Is something wrong?”

“...”

Biting your lip, you toy with your uniform slightly, trying to push down the tears that are starting to form in your eyes.

“Did I say something yesterday to make you mad?”

“...”

“I’m sorry but please, talk to me!”

He finally snapped; his voice sharp.

“SHUT UP! Holy shit you’re annoying sometimes...”

It felt like a weight fell on your shoulders, causing them to sag slightly as the tears you were holding back began to fall. His words finally pushed you to your limit.

“Oh...okay...”, you cough slightly to cover up a soft sob, “I-I’ll just go then.”

And with that, you ran out of the classroom, avoiding the calls of your worried classmates. You ran until you reached the bathroom at the end of the hallway a couple halls down. After running inside, you slammed the stall door shut, collapsing in the tiny space, finally breaking down into sobs.

Mina turned to Bakugou, glaring at him.

“Bakugou what the hell man?”

She, along with the other girls of the class, ran out to follow you.

Bakugou slammed his palm on the desk, before sighing heavily, dragging his hand through his hair. He could feel the glares of some of his classmates burning through his back.

“Fuck.”

A couple of minutes later Jiro came through the door, worry displayed on her face. Her expression caused the others to tense slightly. Kirishima was the first to speak up.

“Is she alright? Where is she?”

“She’s in the bathroom. She won’t answer us. I can tell she’s crying though.”

Bakugou’s heart drops into his stomach when he hears that, his face faltering slightly. Jiro turns to him, giving him a pointed look.

“Bakugou, I think it would be best if you talked to her instead. You know she’s been having a hard week, right?”

Of course, he had noticed you were stressed but you tend to clam up so as to not bother him when you feel this way. Usually you come around and tell him what wrong but you didn’t this time. He felt stupid for not trying to talk to you sooner.

“I knew it had been shitty but not this shitty.”

“Well, right now she needs some comfort and you need to apologize.”

He was already going out of the door before she could finish her sentence.

“I know.”

The bell wrung as soon as Bakugou located where the other girls were at. They all turned to face him with varying expressions. None of them were happy, though they all looked a little relieved that he showed up.

Not saying a word, he brushed past them but paused when he heard Momo speak.

“Don’t hurt her again.”

He replied instantly, his voice firm.

“I won’t.”

And with that, he let the door close behind him.

It was silent for a couple of seconds until Bakugou heard a soft sob.

“Y/N?”

You fell silent, not wanting him to see or hear you when you were an absolute mess.

“Leave me alone.”

His heart cracked a little hearing the tears in your voice.

“I’ll leave you alone if you listen.”

“...”

“I-”

He sighed heavily. You could tell he was trying to figure out what to say.

“Fuck. I’m sorry.”

When you didn’t speak, he continued.

“I’m sorry for saying what I did. You’re not annoying. You never are. I was just frustrated about some shitty stuff that happened this morning and it had been bothering me to the point that it made me angry. I didn’t want to upset you which is why I wasn’t respondi-”

“You’ll miss class.”

He stared incredulously at the stall door that you were in. You really thought that was important at the moment?

“You think I care about some shitty class when you, the girl I love, are crying in the fucking bathroom because of me? Are you kidding? You’re more important to me than that.”

His words made you tear up more but this time for a different reason. Slowly opening up the stall you look at him with eyes wide with surprise.

“You love me?”

Not moving, he stared back at you, defiant.

“Yes, I love you. I know this isn’t the best way to say it,” he gestured with his hand at the fact that you were in a bathroom, “but you need to hear it. I want you to hear it. It doesn’t take back what I said, and that’s not what I’m trying to do but I mean it. I love you so fucking much it scares me sometimes. I thought the only thing I would ever care about is becoming the best pro-hero but then you walked through the door the first day of class.”

He paused, closing his eyes and taking a breath to try to reign in his emotions a little. You just stood watching him, eyes still wide.

Opening his eyes, he continued.

“I wouldn’t say it was love at first sight because that would be a damn lie. But every day a little more of me seemed to become attracted to you until one day I realized that you were just as important to me as becoming a pro-hero. It scared me, feeling like this. When you ran out today, after I realized what I had said, I knew that I couldn’t avoid this anymore. I was scared that I was going to lose you. I still am. All because I can’t keep my shitty mouth shut.”

His face was blushing slightly as he looked off to the side to avoid your gaze.

“Katsu...”

Not even a second later a weight hit him.

“Wha-”

Your arms encircled his waist as you buried your face in his chest. Once he realized you were hugging him, he relaxed slightly, wrapping his arms around you as well.

It was silent for a second before you mumbled against him.

“I’m sorry for being overdramatic.”

He scoffed.

“Don’t apologize, you aren’t being dramatic. I’m the only one who needs to apologize. I should have been a better boyfriend and talked with you instead of fucking snapping your head off.”

Pulling away from him slightly you gave him a soft smile.

“Let’s work harder to talk about our problems then, yeah?”

Chuckling, he ruffled your hair before pulling away completely.

“Yeah.”

After a couple of seconds of looking at each other you had a realization.

“Wait a minute...You followed me into the girls’ bathroom?!”

He deadpanned.

“Really? Again, you think I care?”

“Well no but...won’t you get in trouble?”

“We’re both going to get in trouble for being late to class so I don’t think it matters much.”

You nodded at his reasoning, ignoring his amused stare.

“I guess we should get back to class then. Everyone’s probably worried...”

“Tch.”

You walked to the bathroom door, opening it as you talked to Bakugou, who was close beside you.

“I wonder if they-” you paused, seeing that most of the girls were still outside of the bathroom, “uhhh guys? Why are you not in class?”

Uraraka smiled sheepishly while Mina eyed you both with a smirk on her face.

“We wanted to make sure you were alright...”

“Mic said he wouldn’t start until you guys were back. Jiro explained what was happening. We’ll probably get detention though.” Mina grinned. “It was so worth it.”

“EH?! What are you talking about raccoon eyes?”

“You guys are cute. You know that?”

“Shut it!”

Mina snorted before turning around waving slightly.

“Let’s go!”

The others followed while you hung back with Bakugou. He was grumbling under his breath about what Mina had said, causing you to grin slightly.

“Katsuki?”

He looked at you, raising an eyebrow in question. Reaching out, you took his hand into yours before you leaned up to press a soft peck to his cheek.

“I love you too.”

Letting go, you jogged to catch up with the girls who were walking into the classroom, leaving a very flustered and speechless angry boy behind.

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

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Day one of the Horror on Cherry Lane Challenge! I’ll be participating this month as a writer! The prompt for today is Knife!

warnings for mentions of suicidal ideation and attempts, death, child abuse, and blood.

Billy met Steve in the psych ward.

Well, they met officially at Tina’s party, but that wasn’t the real Steve. That was the King Steve. Deeper than that though, even the Steve Harrington everyone else saw even after the breakup and the fall from grace still wasn’t the real thing.

That was fake smiles, overdone nonchalance to cover up the wound from his fallen status. Now he was stripped down to himself, all bloody bandages and tired eyes, the boy he was pretending to be finally broken down to reveal this.

Apparently, Ruthie Harrington found her son with his grandfather's switchblade- all the other objects in the house sharper than a spoon and with less sentimental value had already been tossed -bleeding all over her freshly polished linoleum floors. She dropped him off at the hospital a night ago and nobody’s been by to see him since.

Now, it’s by pure coincidence that Billy’s already in on the same day Steve’s admitted.

He’s been locked up the past three days compared to Steve’s one. These small town hicks are jumpier (ha) than he thought, and don’t think doing the walk and turn test on the edge of the quarry after downing a bottle and a half of fireball is as funny as he does. Whatever. Cid would’ve thought that was badass as hell.

So he was admitted, on suicide watch for a stupid joke that wasn’t really worth it, or even really a joke. Max came to visit once. She punched him in the chest as hard as she could and cursed him out for an hour. She’d never done that before. By the time she left they were both in tears, and maybe Billy realized a thing or too about his carelessness. Realized for the first time that someone cared.

But he’s still in here for another week and a half by law, so. He’s not going to mope about it. And while Steve Harrington showing up is about the last thing he’s expecting, he decides that’s at least something he can work with. Definitely brings a little life to the place.

He waits until Steve’s intense watch period is over to bug him, once they’re out of their cramped little rooms for a couple of hours to “socialize” (see, the more sound of mind keep an eye on the other patients while the nurses take their smoke breaks) Billy goes straight to Steve. Him and Harrington are far from friends, but that’s pretty much irrelevant when the only other choices for company are kids younger than them too scared to approach them and people too deep in their midlife crises to bother with teenage drama.

Throwing himself down in the blue plastic chair across from where Steve settled in, Billy kicks his feet up on the table,, “What’s up Harrington? Didn’t expect to see a familiar face in here.”

But Steve, poor Steve, takes one look at Billy with those haunted brown eyes, and his face just falls completely apart. There are tears on his way too pale cheeks before Billy even has a chance to breathe.

The smile drops off of Billy’s face, “Jesus Harrington, I know m’not looking my best surviving on hospital food and cigarettes without a hairbrush, but that’s a little unwarranted.”

“Shut up. Not everything’s about you, Hargrove.”

“Oh I disagree with that. But I get the point. I’ll let ya be.” Billy hums, scooting his chair back and getting up. He stops when Steve starts to speak, “Y-You outta be careful saying that kinda stuff in here.”

“What?”

“That the world revolves around you. They’ll come up with a diagnosis for that and keep you here forever. Drug you ‘til you forget your own name, let alone your status.” Steve tells him with humor, wiping the tears off his face.

Billy nods in understanding, sits back down with an interested smirk, “This ain’t your first time here, is it?”

“Is it yours?”

“Nah. I’ve done some shit on purpose, some on accident. Once it wasn’t even me. But s’never done anything to help so far.”

Steve puffs out a sigh, “Don’t I know it.. I’ve been in and outta this place since I was like, ten. Clearly nothing’s changed.”

“Why? What’s your dirty little secret, Harrington?”

“I cut myself, dumbass.” He deadpans, looking at Billy with a bluntness in his expression that reads more concerning, more like indifference to what he just said than matter-of-fact.

“No shit. But that ain’t the secret.” Billy probes further, can tell he’s getting under that mask Steve wears, “Why do you do it?”

“Legally, I can't tell you. And I don’t think I would anyways.”

“What about if I tell you all about me first? I got no reservations ‘cept the one that got me a bed here.”

“It’s not a hotel, Hargrove.”

“Eh, might as well be. Feels like the damn hotel California.”

“Is that why?”

“Huh? Oh no, I been pullin’ stunts like this long before we left Cali.”

“Like what?”

“Like downing two full bottles of my mother’s meds after she left. Not at the same time obviously, or I wouldn’t be here. Mostly ‘cause my dad didn’t even wanna take me to the hospital either time.” Billy doesn’t look at Steve while he elaborates. Not because he cares, he’s an open book, if a random old woman at the grocery store asked about his last attempt, he’d tell her.

But. He doesn’t like watching people’s faces. Seeing sympathy and concern there. It makes him feel all stupid and guilty. It’s usually not like that with other kids like him, but Steve’s different. He’s got a big heart. Even if there’s no room for himself.

And Billy hurt Steve before. He doesn’t want to see someone he caused pain caring so much about him. He already cracked when Max came to see him. This could be what splits him open, spills out all the things he’s covered up.

So he keeps going, “And like runnin’ out in front of traffic with my friends. They thought we were just playin’ chicken ‘til I stopped dead in front of a station wagon. Metal rims’d done me in for sure if one ‘a the older boys hadn’t pulled me outta the way. Damn near ripped my shirt in half how fast he grabbed me.”

“I’m guessing your parents are the reason why then?”

“Yessir.” Billy deflects, not good at getting deeper into it, “You wanna tell me yours then?”

“I started cutting because Tommy Hagan told me about it. He thought it was freaky, but when he ran his mouth about how they found the neighbor kid in his room, drained of all his blood from his wrists, I wanted to try it. I’ve tried liquor and drugs and all kinds ‘a shit I shouldn’t, but nothin’ stuck like cutting.” Steve pauses for a long time, his eyes going blank, staring right past Billy, “When my mom found out she.. she.. Forget it.”

“Hey, you seen my skeletons. Can’t I see yours?”

“No. I don’t wanna fucking talk about it anymore.” Steve answers, despite his assuredness, his tone wobbling with some unidentifiable emotion.

Talk about mood swings. Billy doesn’t get how nobody would’ve noticed something was up before Steve started carving into himself. Really, he knows someone would have seen it and just ignored it.

It only gets worse though, the reservedness turning to sadness and frustration. None of the words are coming out, but he can tell Steve’s thinking of the stories, reliving all that got him to the here and now. Billy can also tell there’s nothing he can do no to stop him from doomsdaying.

So when Steve is inevitably in the thralls of a panic attack, he tries to hug him tight, to try to get it to stop maybe, that always worked for him at least, but Steve swats him away. Judging from the way he winces, it’s not easy for him to do either, with those thick ass bandages constricting his wrists, but the tears and the pain on his face are buried behind his resolution.

He’s hiding something from Billy.

In hindsight, talking to a new patient about past attempts probably wasn’t his brightest idea anyways, so he switches the subject while Steve works on coming down from his panic attack. He brings up Max and her little nerds, trying to bridge the healthier connections between him and Steve that they’d both been ignoring since the fight. He mentions basketball too, another something they have in common other than trying to kill themselves.

It doesn’t really work, though Steve does stop shaking as bad, just curling up in his little chair and sniffling, pretending not to listen while Billy rambles on and on. But he doesn’t talk. It’s probably better for him not to anyway. Billy himself has been known to say some dumb shit when he’s in distress.

Ultimately, even once the conversation runs out, he stays with Steve until dark. He can tell from the way his gaze sticks to the floor that Steve recovered from his fit a while ago, but he’s embarrassed by having a breakdown in front of him, as if he isn’t in here for the same reason. It helps that he gets it though, and they sit in a comfortable, albeit very prolonged, silence.

Long after Steve gets xanned up and knocked out though, while Billy is still free to wander until the midnight curfew as a low risk patient, he decides to stick with him in his room. Billy’ll never admit it, but he gets nightmares, and he doesn’t want to face that just yet, so with a new friend as an excuse, he’s up half the night watching Steve sleep.

He remembers what happened earlier, how focused Steve was on keeping him away from him, despite his panic, and decides, with a glance at how deeply Steve is sleeping, his greasy hair all strewn about on stiff pillows, that he’s going to figure out what it was.

He snoops around in his bedside drawers, in the bathroom, in the locker in the corner. It’s there he notices the knitted jacket Steve was wearing before, hanging heavy to one side, like there’s something in its pocket. He touches it and feels the outline of something small, so he pulls it out.

He regrets checking though, because it’s a knife. Judging from the old looking engravings on its handle, and the coppery stains within the grooves, it’s specifically the very same one that got Steve hospitalized.

He shoves it in his own back pocket and keeps looking, with a quick glance at Steve, finding a note tucked where the knife had been. Written in perfect scrawl on bond paper that’s been folded a dozen times and stained with tears,

“Do it right next time, why don’t you? Your mother is too soft on you. I’m not paying for this again.

- J.Harrington.”

Billy doesn’t know what to do but throw the note in the trash. Not really in shock, but definitely more than a little fucked up from reading that, he sits on the end of Steve’s bed. His own dad, who'd more than once been the one putting him in the hospital, had never even said anything like that to him.

He didn’t get to talk to Steve much today, but they’ve got as long as Billy’s stuck in here together to fix that. Longer if he just pulls something in front of a nurse. And he wants to, really really wants to.

Because he knows he just met the real Steve, can recognize another broken boy when he sees one, and he knows too, that he never wants to meet a pretty boy like this again.

And if that’s his declaration to get clean, then so fucking be it.

But. He never promised not to hurt anyone. Ultimately he’d still need that outlet.

He keeps the knife. To make sure his pretty boy doesn’t get hurt again.

#CherryLaneChallenge #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #ej writer #story by ej!#tw self harm #tw attempted suicide #tw blood #happy October!#I’m so excited!#I’m gonna try to do all of this but I’m real busy coming up!#im not sure what vibe I’m goin got in this challenge #but I think it’s mostly haunting?#not scary but like that oh moment y’know

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ceph-the-ghost-writer · 2 years

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Ao3 Link

Phagophobia Pt. 10

Summary: Isaac makes an unexpected friend and considers his options beyond mere survival.

Words: 1,194

Warnings: N/A (Please let me know if there's anything I should add here.)

A series of knocks made Isaac jump in his seat. He cursed as the careless jerk of his hand scattered the order of the pages he had floating in the sidebar.

Another knock. Not on the main door but the connecting one to Yi’s room. Glancing at the time widget at the bottom corner of the interface, he saw four hours had passed. Time flew when falling down the rabbit hole.

Isaac got up and went to the door. As expected, the corporal waited on the other side. She gave him a tired wave and suggestion of a smile.

“Got that contact info for you, Soto.”

He blinked, realizing he believed he’d never hear back on the subject. “Oh. Oh!” He stepped out of her way. “Thanks. Great timing.”

Yi entered and walked over to the interface desk. She pointed to all the info hovering in the sidebar. “Doing some light reading?”

Isaac huffed something like a laugh. “Keeping myself busy and killing time. If I find anything useful in the meantime it’s a bonus.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Clues about this bloodborn’s identity, effective hunting cases, encounters between bloodborn and other creatures—anything.” The stuff on Kinslayer and psychic vampires in general he’d just keep to himself.

Unfolding her tab, Yi tapped something on it. “You ever talk to Minnie Shaw in archives?”

“Not personally, no.”

“She’s a wizard at cross-referencing and digging up all sorts of gems. Helped me track down cursed objects and counter wards more than a few times. I’ll shoot you her info too.” She began poking at her tab screen.

Maybe he’d been hasty in judging enforcers. “I guess the magic department uses archives pretty often. Probably more than mine.”

“Well, they definitely come in handy if you want to be sure breaking a ritual circle will stop a spell or get everyone exploded. That sort of thing.” Two red notification points flashed to life among the trifold interface projections. “There. Oh—know who else might help? Yadiel and Nayeli Bosques. You might want an interpreter, though, because both—”

“They’re Deaf. Yeah, I know them. Me and their daughter Delfina—Elfy—have been friends since college. She’s the one who recruited me, actually.”

“Delfina…Short, reddish curls all piled on her head, about a dozen piercings, can’t sit still for half a minute?”

“Sounds like you’ve met.”

Yi shrugged, eyes slinking off toward the windows even though the curtains still blocked the view. “Seen her around is all.”

Isaac didn’t mean to laugh, but he couldn’t help it. Bashful shuffling of feet was the last thing he’d expect from someone that brawny and blunt. Besides, he knew how Yi felt. He’d been drawn to Elfy the same way at first, until he’d learned that a) she wasn’t attracted to men, and b) he couldn’t have kept up with her even if he’d been another gender.

“Want me to put in a good word for you?” he asked, grinning. A burst of relief made his head swim. If the last few days hadn’t destroyed his capacity for lame jokes he might live to see better days.

“You’re killing me, Soto. Been longer than I care to say since I went on a date. Probably give me a heart attack at this point.”

Isaac winced. “Khang was still in public relations the last time I had a steady partner.”

Yi clucked her tongue. “Still better than my current track record. Anything serious?”

“Eh, we talked about moving in together here and there, but me being away on assignments about half the year was a deal breaker.” That and Jeremy had suspected him of being a smuggler. Given the constant travel between the States and territories, dodging every question related to work, and the handgun stashed in the closet with several boxes of ammo, Isaac couldn’t blame him in hindsight.

“That’s the story of damn near everyone in the field.” Yi shook her head. “I’m thinking more and more about putting in a transfer to archives. Seems they’re the only bunch who can manage to settle down.”

“Pretty big change, isn’t it? From raiding secret sorcery cults to organizing files?”

Another shrug while Yi tucked her tab into the back pocket of her jeans. “I originally signed up with archives. Shaw was my mentor, matter of fact. Watts got me to jump ship halfway through my training, though. Did the same thing when he was a recruit.”

Curiosity bubbled up in Isaac, but he contained himself. Sure, some people were born into families who were already Coven, like Elfy, and a few just stumbled into a nexus of circumstance that made telling them the truth easier than a cover-up. Most, however, had come to it like he had, with something supernatural barreling into their lives and the Coven helping them pick up the shattered pieces afterwards. Not stories people shared in the break room during lunch. So, instead of the countless questions pressing against the confines of his common decency, Isaac let out, “You look more at home with the enforcers.”

Smirking, Yi patted one of her impressive biceps. “Don’t underestimate my ability to file the right forms. Let me know if you have any trouble getting through to St-Ange or Shaw. I might go down to the lobby for some food later, but I should be hanging out in my room otherwise.”

“Cool. Thanks, Yi.” Maybe this was a ploy to keep tabs on him, make sure he didn’t get himself chomped, but he appreciated the friendly approach all the same.

His case of warm and fuzzies lasted only until she’d left and he looked at the time again. Isaac scrubbed a hand over his face. So many hours left to fill before dawn. He still had plenty of files to read, but little inclination to. Would St-Ange be up? Being a bloodborn researcher one would think they operated at night. Of course, they might be busy with something else. Probably best to contact them in the afternoon, just to be safe.

Isaac stared at all the pages he’d pulled up. Everything didn’t have to be about survival, did it? He’d done what he could for the moment, and talking to Yi had got him thinking. He had to buy clothes anyway, so why not pick out some not meant for trekking across the country? Who knew? Maybe he’d work up the nerve to throw his profile up on a dating network. Pretend to be someone who didn’t study monsters for a living. He did have a big hotel room all to himself. A laugh snorted out of him and he had to slap a hand over his nose and mouth to stop another. That’d give Renato Faria Dimas something to ponder if he really was watching Isaac. Although, a weapon wouldn’t be bad to bring to bed either. He’d ask Yi about it.

Still smiling, Isaac stashed his work sidebar and brought up some of the local shopping info on the main panel of the interface. He’d earned a break. He could browse through some clothes, compare specs on handguns for an hour or two. Just for fun.

#dysthanasia #story series #vampires #writing #vampire fiction #spirit scrawls #fantasy writing

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modern-inheritance · 3 years

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I don’t really know where I’m going with this but do you have any Oromis/Morzan headcanons? Before or during the fall, or Oromis’ feelings towards Morzan afterwards?

I have a few! More than a few apparently, I'm just finishing this up and uh...yeah that got longer than I thought!

I’m going to do my best to leave Glaedr and Morzan’s dragon out of these because while they’re large parts of each other's lives and even maybe personalities considering how deeply bonded Riders and their dragons can be, I want to be sure I’m keeping the characters separate. Kinda like how you shouldn’t constantly group identical twins together as a single entity, ya know?

Alright let's start off with Morzan. Time for some backstory!

Modern Inheritance!Morzan

Morzan was born into a family of low level nobles. By the time Morzan was about six or seven though, the family had fallen out of favor and was struggling to keep up appearances, spending money they didn’t necessarily have on lavish items and acting increasingly narcissistic in a desperate attempt to hold onto the standing and power they once had.

Morzan probably started showing antisocial behavior around this time, mainly impulsive petty theft, inserting himself in dangerous situations, and manipulation through charm with adults and intimidation and violence with other children. Due to his family’s last shreds of political strength and their long time in the area, most of these incidents were swept under the rug or outright ignored by his family. This generally left a very angry, disgusted-with-others, burgeoning narcissistic young Morzan to his own devices.

When Morzan was chosen by his dragon, his parents were quietly glad that he wouldn’t be their responsibility anymore. They didn’t disclose any of his troubling behaviors and Morzan was quick to understand that he would need to tamp the more obvious ones down and manipulate others into hiding his transgressions.

Despite all this, Morzan and his dragon do deeply care for each other. Due to Morzan’s mind linking with the hatchling, there was a sort of evening out of his behaviors as some were ‘shared’ do the hatchling and some of the hatchling’s personality was ‘shared’ with Morzan. This is what helped Morzan fly under the radar for so much longer until his eventual betrayal.

On a lighter note, Morzan shot up like a weed when he hit puberty, once growing nearly five inches (~12.7 cm) over the span of a year. It took a year or so for his muscles to visibly bulk up, so he was this tall gangly teenager for a while. His clothes constantly needed altering.

Initially Morzan doesn’t really know what to think of Oromis and Glaedr. His family was always distracted from giving him the attention and nurturing he needed, and suddenly he has not only this baby dragon who he can share his frustrations and emotions with but also parental figures.

Eventually he warmed up to them, but more in the sense that he became attached to their attention and the praise he got when he did well in magic and other lessons. He didn’t showboat as much, but would push himself to get more compliments, praise and attention from Oromis. Oromis saw this more as Morzan taking his training seriously. There were a few instances of Morzan and his dragon being pointed out as instigators of some scuffles or small acts of possible, unproven acts of sabotage harming or tripping up other Riders-in-training, but these were generally believed to be accidents or bad luck.

Morzan’s bullying and belittling of Brom was the result of Morzan feeling like his unfettered access to Oromis and Glaedr’s attention was being threatened. He knew he couldn’t get away with physically injuring Brom and Saphira I, so his physical actions never really went past ‘accidental’ full force hits in sparring and roughhousing. If Brom got praise or compliments from Oromis, Morzan would seethe quietly, eventually exploding in rage at some later point after it built up. Again, Oromis merely thought this was just adolescent growing pains.

Wooo! That is getting LONG, eh? I’ve got more, but for now I’m going to move on to Oromis and his feelings around Morzan’s betrayal and link you to whatever extra stuff I add later. I’m really unsure about the timeline of when Morzan betrayed the Riders and when it was known that he had, so I’m mostly going to skip that chunk. Let's go!

Modern Inheritance!Oromis

Even without 100% knowing/being sure of Morzan’s betrayal, I think there was a whirlwind of confusion and general chaos when Galbatorix murdered Shurikan’s original Rider. Who was a child. A Rider had murdered a child Rider and while everyone knew Galbatorix was unstable I don’t think anyone would have expected that. Oromis was swept up in all this and didn’t have time to really ask where Morzan was. I mean, Morzan was a grown man at that point and well beyond Oromis’s control.

Morzan’s involvement was probably confirmed without a doubt at the initial attack on Ilirea, and Oromis and Glaedr didn’t have time to process this until after their brief capture.

Oromis felt some really strong guilt. That’s putting it bluntly. Let’s expand it, shall we?

First off, I think Oromis felt some guilt over not being able to help in the sort of final big battle at Ilirea. He was previously quite powerful since he was on the council that refused Galbatorix a new dragon (that’s a whole other topic to look at later on btw), and despite his age and wisdom I think it’s safe to assume that any sudden event causing massive life changes can be pretty shocking. Oromis felt powerless and after the deaths that occured in Galbatorix’s initial attack with the Forsworn on the Riders, I think he knew that there would be more. And all he and Glaedr could do was hide in Ellesméra and tend to their wounds and new maladies.

As they healed I’m pretty sure Oromis spent a lot of time thinking ‘how could I have stopped this?’ Hindsight is...well, whatever-elves-have/20, and Oromis would have put all the signs together that were telling him that there was something off about Morzan from the start. He probably thought subconsciously that he was fixing Morzan and didn’t want to acknowledge just how dangerous that little 10 year old boy and scrawny hatchling he had met all those years ago had become as he grew. There was also a lot of guilt post-Ilirea’s final fall around not protecting Brom from Morzan enough, and feeling like a lot of Brom’s pain was Oromis’s own fault because of this.

Oh man, Oromis also has heaps of survivors guilt about the Riders that, while he does work through it and focuses on extending his life to train the next Rider, never really fades completely. He understands that he could not fight in his condition, but there’s always the nagging ‘what if’ questions that can rear up unexpectedly.

Once he learns of Murtagh and Thorn and their forced fealty to Galbatorix, I think Oromis’s guilt probably pushed him over to definitely join the fight at Gil’ead. It’s likely that he feels that if he had separated Brom and Morzan, had taken the signs of Morzan’s growing antisocial disorder seriously and gotten him proper help, and hadn’t been so blind during the Golden Age, then in some strange way he may have prevented everything from happening. Morzan wouldn’t have let Galbatorix into Ilirea, Shruikan wouldn’t have been stolen, the Forsworn wouldn’t have been influenced by Galbatorix and Morzan (who used his manipulative charm to sway some), and it all comes to, in the end, Murtagh and Thorn, both relatively innocent in this and dragged in only due to parentage and some situations which they have no control over, would have never been forced through torture and cruelty to join Galbatorix and fight people they once saw as friends and family.

Overall I think Oromis, while having processed/processing and come to terms with the Riders Fall and the hand he inadvertently had in it due to his connection to and, in some ways, his failures surrounding Morzan, he still carries this deep feeling of guilt. He doesn’t let it simply sit there though, as he pushes himself to be able to train the next generation, but it’s always there.

AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH okay that’s what I’ve got for now. Holy shit that’s a lot of bulletpoints, huh?

I spent some time researching antisocial behavior and Antisocial Personality Disorder, but per usual I want to state that I am by no means an expert, and the behaviors and traits portrayed here are not the only results, symptoms, or scenarios that can occur when someone has antisocial behavior or ASPD. Mental health is a difficult subject to write about, especially when I have no personal or second hand experience with the specifics, and I’m always open to educating myself on these topics. I am doing my best to learn so that I don’t stereotype or offend. If there are comments/concerns/critique please please don’t ever feel bad about messaging me privately, via the comments, via reblog, or through the ask box point out what I got wrong or if you simply want to share your experiences or concerns.

I’ll probably have more Morzan specific backstory and ideas later on, but for now I need to make some dinner and get to work on the other ask. Cheers!

Thank you again to @siriusly-misunderstood-creatures for the ask! I always appreciate asks and comments, they make my brain work!!

#modern inheritance #modern inheritance cycle #inheritance cycle #the cyclists #eragon #brom #morzan #oromis #modern inheritance ask #modern inheritance asks #modern inheritance lore #glaedr #morzan's dragon

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choccy-hearts · 3 years

Text

Agent Stone Returneth (SIO PT 7)

You sit at your desk, boredly staring at your phone. You had a peaceful weekend, despite the embarrassment you felt by giving Dr. Robotnik the wrong lunch.

He probably thinks I'm so childish and lame.

As you sit with a blush on your cheeks, the front entrance opening breaks the quiet atmosphere.

You look up to see your favorite agent walking in. You give him a big smile and set your phone down. He returns the smile, immediately leaning up against your desk.

"Hey! How are you?", you say excitedly.

"I'm pretty good, I'm actually pretty surprised you're still here. I mean, you're pretty strong considering the week you had to spend alone with the Dr."

"Oh gosh, yeah. It was nice to do nothing over the weekend." You both catch up before he asks specifically how the prior week went.

"It went pretty okay, I think. I mean..I'm still here!", you giggle before biting your lip. Stone looks at you intrigued. "I think the Dr. really likes me."

"Well, that's good...right?"

"Yeah, I just didn't expect him to."

"Eh, who knows."

"It's just...after the power outage he's kinda been more...interested in me?"

"There was a power outage?"

"Yeah, on the first day. We ended up sharing lunch and he let me watch him work and stuff. Actually, I've been bringing him lunch everyday since."

"Woah..." Stone trails off.

"What?"

"Well...I shouldn't say this, but Dr. Robotnik..."afraid" isn't the right word but...he just really dislikes the dark."

"Huh?", you ask extremely confused. The man that can make a grown army man shiver...is afraid of the dark?

"Not afraid! He's just more vulnerable...I don't know. I think it has to do with his bots not working properly so he feels less safe or something. I'm not sure."

"Well, I guess that makes sense...he seemed to enjoy me staying with him."

"What do you mean?"

"Well it was just the two of us-"

"Alone?"

"Yeah. Nothing happened though!"

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I swear! I don't even like him like that! But we just talked and...okay...well..." Stone's eyes are glue to you, completely invested. "We were talking and...I guess there was a little face moving...and we were pretty close to each other...but then the lights came back!"

Stone's eyes widen, a hand going over his mouth. You nervously smile at his expression as you begin to toy with your hair.

"Are you joking?!"

"No..."

"Y/N! You almost ki-"

"Not so loud!"

Stone leans over the desk closer to you.

"You almost kissed Robotnik!", he hisses. You squeal in response, scrunching your eyes closed.

"I know! I know!"

"Did you want to?!" You don't respond, instead look down, away from his eyes. He gasps. "I thought you "didn't like him like that", huh?"

"Ugh...okay, but he's so handsome!", you say as quiet as you can.

"Oooh, handsome!", Stone teases. "If the lights didn't come on, do you think you would've kissed him?"

You lean back and think. You hadn't actually thought about it seriously. In the moment, you were humiliated and scared. In hindsight...you feel disappointed.

"Honestly, I don't think he was trying to kiss me. I mean, I was boosting his ego at the time, and he probably was just interested in what I was saying. Maybe he wanted to hear me better."

"That's not an answer to my question."

"...I don't know if I would've, I mean, Robotnik has all the power, and he had it in the moment. I'm not the type to just go kissing my bosses."

"Sure, okay."

"I swear! It just...happened. Ugh, or it didn't! Maybe I just thought it would!"

"Y/N, if the Dr. were to walk in right now and ask you to kiss him, would you?" You bashfully cover your face with your hands. Stone chuckles at your reaction. As the two of you are distracted, a confused Robotnik walks in.

"Ahem." You both look up and see Robotnik giving you both an unenthused look.

"Hello Dr.!", Stone says.

"Good morning, sir."

"Welcome back, Stone. Now, if you two are done with this foolishness, I would like Agent Stone to make me a latte and you", Dr. Robotnik looks right into your eyes. "I'd like you to come down to my lab immediately. "

You nod and follow behind the Dr. You turn to look at Stone who is holding in a laugh. You mouth to him, "holy shit" and silently giggle.

Once you and the Dr. reach his lab, he stops you before entering.

"Miss L/N, I'd like to show you one of my favorite bots." He opens the door and holds it open for you.

You walk in and wait for him. He waves to you and leads you over to his desk where sits in his chair and turns on his blue holographic screen. He clicks around for a bit before pulling up what looks to be a video.

"You see this?" You nod. "This right here is the feed to my security camera which is connected to the security system. It records all hours of the day, everyday of the year. Helpful, isn't it?"

"Yes sir-"

"Shush", he puts his finger up. "Now, if we rewind a bit..." He clicks on the video and begins to rewind it. He hits play. You realize it's the conversation you just had with Stone. "We can hear some interesting things."

"If the lights didn't come on, do you think you would've kissed him?"

Dr. Robotnik fast forwards a bit.

"Y/N, if the Dr. were to walk in right now and ask you to kiss him, would you?"

Dr. Robotnik pauses the video and turns around to look at you. You're completely humiliated and scared. You don't want to look at him so you just stare at the screen.

"Well, what is the answer to that?"

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kafka-ish · 4 years

Text

stanley’s sister has got it going on | r.t.

richie’s got a crush and he’s got it bad. the only thing that’s keeping him from the girl he’s been chasing is his best friend—her brother.

word count: 4,665

warnings/included: nsfw (not explicit), fluff, swearing, fem!reader

a/n: as i was rereading this i realized that this is the dirtiest thing i’ve ever written??? (so far). in comparison to other works it’s probably vv vanilla so pls bear with me

In the defense of Richie Tozier, it wasn’t his fault he ended up catching feelings for Stanley Uris’s little sister. There were a lot of things he couldn’t control. Like when his mouth opened and out came a poorly done impression of his chemistry teacher. (Which just so happened to have been done as Mr. Ford was standing behind the boy).

Richie may as well just start a list of things he can’t help, marking y/n Uris down as number thirty-three.

“Hey, Richie!” Well, well, well, if it wasn’t the person Richie had been most desperately trying to avoid. “Are you going to Stan’s tonight?” y/n asked. She was standing outside of his car door while he was in the driver’s seat, flicking through the radio stations, trying to find a good song for the ride home.

Upon hearing the voice, Richie stopped fidgeting with the knob. It was honestly hopeless trying to find a good song at this point. None of the good stuff comes on until later. He turned his head to meet eyes with the accompanying voice from outside his car.

Bad idea.

Of course, y/n chose to wear a tank top and the shortest skirt possible that day. Hell, any day he’d find his thoughts lost in her. Whether she was wearing a bikini at the quarry or in an oversized t-shirt and checkered pajama pants.

“Earth to Richie?” y/n laughed. She waved her hand in front of his face, trying to capture his attention. Little did she know, that wasn’t necessary.

“Actually, I was thinking about being a no-show today. I’ve been neglecting my training.”

“Oh! You train? Which gym?” She was grinning wide and her gaze burned a hole through his heart.

“The arcade. I gotta keep my skills fresh if I ever wanna keep that high score.” y/n rolled her eyes, but his comment still made her laugh.

“Well, can you take me home? Once you drop me off I promise you can have all the time in the world to work on your skills.” Emphasis on ‘skills’.

“Promise, eh?” Richie repeated, giving the girl a hard time. “Did Stan forget how to drive?”

“No…” The ‘o’ part was drawn out. “He has his bird watching club today and I don’t feel like sitting in the sun for an hour while I wait for him.”

Richie smiled to himself, thinking for a moment. On one hand, he shouldn’t be alone with the sister of one of his best friends’, as he had different intentions. On the other hand, he couldn’t just leave his best friend’s sister hanging like that. In hindsight, he had come to the conclusion that there was a possibility of Stan getting mad at him either way.

Taking Stan’s sister home it was.

“What are you waiting for, y/n/n, get in.” Richie finally made his decision.

y/n cheered happily, thanking him, as she rounded his car and opened the door to the passenger’s seat.

“You have no idea how happy this makes me!” y/n smiled, her expression reaching ear to ear.

“Oh yeah. I bet you’re over the moon about getting a ride from your brother’s best friend in some beat up chevy.” Richie tried his best to distance himself. He really did. But he couldn’t help but notice y/n’s figure in the tight-fitting clothes, especially when she sat in such a close proximity to him.

“I don’t think you get it, Tozier.” y/n hummed as she started turning the knob on the dash, finally settling on some rock station. She lowered the volume so they could still talk without yelling over the atmosphere. “We never hang out.”

“We’re hangin’ out right now,” Richie argued, daring to look away from the road for one millisecond just so he could steal a glance at her.

“Yeah, but… You hang out with Bill, Eddie, and Stan, and stuff.” She sounded disappointed.

“I guess it’s different with them.” Richie shrugged. It was different with them. Bill, Eddie, Stan, Ben, and Beverly even, had their group together. They had the same classes together. They faced off a killer clown together.

“I get that you guys have your own friend group and stuff.” y/n said quickly, not wanting to sound lonely or weird from her previous statement. “But we’re friends. Aren’t we?” She said this with an unsureness in her voice that Richie didn’t know how to reply to.

I should’ve just left her at school. What’s so bad about waiting in the sun while Stan’s off watching some stupid birds? I guess it is kind of hot out. But a little heat won’t hurt anyone, right? Besides, she’s wearing a tank top.

Richie peered over at y/n who was looking out the window as her head leaned against it.

A white, lacy tank top that makes her skin look even more—

“Richie?” Concern washed over the girl’s eyes. Her attention turned to him instead of the scenery that passed by them.

Richie whipped his head away from her body and stared blankly at the road. It was almost as if he were a ghost. Except he actually had color in his face.

“What is it, y/n/n?” Richie’s eyes were still on the road.

“I asked if we were friends.” The girl giggled, not being able to take anything seriously for longer than five minutes. “But that’s a stupid question.” She looked down and began to pick at her nails.

“Of course we’re friends.” Richie insisted. The only problem is that I want more and your brother would kill me.

Something inside of y/n calmed at the affirmation. “So we should hang out.”

“Already told ya, y/n/n. I got a date with destiny today.”

“I don’t mind being the third wheel.”

To be frank, that was the last thing Richie needed. It was bad enough that middle schoolers would wait lined up behind him, watching as he lost at some silly arcade game that he still had a passion for. He didn’t need some hot girl hanging over his shoulder while he did so, too. But Richie’s mouth had betrayed his thoughts.

“Only if you want to, y/n/n.” He had avoided trying to call y/n anything other than her name or her nickname. He wouldn’t allow himself to call her any of the cutesy trademark pet names he’d call other girls that he would shamelessly flirt with for fun. He started implementing this tactic in sophomore year once he really started to notice her.

At first, it was the way she greeted him every time the losers met up at Stan’s house. Maybe he was crazy, but he swore she gave him special attention: always running up towards him when she saw him, her lingering by his side before Stan yelled at her, asking if she had anything better to do. Her smile was seemingly wider and her eyes brighter whenever she held conversations with him compared to the other losers—or maybe that was just Richie looking into things too much.

Due to drama and false rumors, y/n had started hanging out with the losers more this year. It was an attempt for her to take her mind off of the absence of friends on her part. None of the losers seemed to mind, even Stan. Thus, she became a regular when the group went on swimming trips to the quarry or slept over at each other’s houses. This didn’t really help Richie’s case. Now, he was basically forced to see her figure in a swimsuit and in every other setting imaginable. Not to mention, he couldn’t do anything about it either.

The two had finally arrived at the arcade. Richie had managed to snag the closest parking spot to the entryway and y/n relentlessly made fun of how he never parked straight until they got in the door.

“Okay, kid. Once you get your license, you can criticize my ‘bad’ parking. But for now, since you’re hitching rides for free, I say you better just keep quiet for now.”

“But you’re so over the lines! I can’t imagine your coloring if that’s how you park.”

“I’ll have you know, y/n, I don’t color. For one, that shit’s for babies. And I am way past that preschool shit. And second of all, coloring’s way lame.” Richie had made his way over to the Street Fighter machine and inserted a quarter in the slot.

y/n watched him thoughtfully for awhile as he fidgeted with the joystick and jammed the buttons.

“Do you want anything to drink?” she asked, growing bored of watching the same repetitive visuals from over his shoulder. But she didn’t think she could ever grow tired of watching him.

“Hold on.” His hand smashed against the buttons in rapid fire movements while he simultaneously maneuvered the joystick. A few seconds after, the game played a pitiful noise and the boy let out a groan. Richie had lost.

“That’s a weird way of saying coke.” y/n hummed before skipping off to the lounge area.

On her way back, she saw Richie’s face contort in frustration. Once again, he had lost to the game.

“Cheer up, buttercup!” y/n passed handed him the glass bottle and Richie had finally stepped away from the Street Fighter machine.

“Easy for you to say. You don’t got an inanimate object beating ya four to one.” Richie pretended to wipe the nonexistent sweat off his brow and looked down to y/n, offering her a smug look.

“Would a kiss make you feel better?” The girl leaned closer to him and got up on her tippy toes, preparing to peck him on his cheek.

This was the first of y/n showing any sign of real interest. And while Richie wanted to bask in the glory of his long time crush finally coming around, his thoughts also drew to Stan. What kind of friend would he be if he made a move on his friend’s little sister? Technically she’s the one making the moves-

Cut it out, Rich!

His internal monologue argued for a while before he realized y/n’s lips were attached to his face.

“W-what are you doing?” Richie belatedly snapped out of his thoughts and came to his senses.

y/n pulled away. Her arms crossed tightly around her chest and her posture was now slightly hunched over. Oh.

“I thought I could make you feel better.” She mumbled. When she eventually spoke, she let out a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding in. “Can you take me home?” She asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.

“Of course.” The two started heading for the door and Richie tried to slow his pace so that his long legs would be in sync with hers. “To be honest, y/n/n, I was kinda getting tired of this ol’ dump anyways.”

A small smile graced y/n’s lips as he talked. Even if she was still embarrassed from the previous events.

“You’re not gonna be a professional video game player?”

“Oh no. That dream’s been abandoned for a long time now.” Richie quipped back. He was turning the keys into the ignition and began to drive off.

The car ride to Stan’s place was silent. Either because of the turn that had taken place earlier at the arcade, or because Richie didn’t wanna open his big mouth and accidentally slip up; ruining his relationship with both Stan the Man and Stan the Man’s hot sister.

Richie’s old chevy slowly came to a stop at the front of Stan’s house. The sky was cloudless and an unnerving shade of blue today, highlighting how perfectly trim and green Uris’s lawn was.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” y/n finally spoke up. Her voice foreign to Richie’s ears after the fifteen minutes of dead air from the two of them. But it wasn’t that foreign. Her voice echoed through his brain practically everyday. Whenever classes got boring or nights seemed endless, Richie found himself either replaying past conversations between them. Or other scenarios… She was an unhealthy addiction he couldn’t quit. Like smoking, only hotter and way more deadly.

“What’s there to talk about?” Richie faced y/n, putting on his best ‘I’m-not-interested-in-you’ face, when he really felt quite the opposite.

“Richie, I feel like you don’t like me.” Her accusation was dead wrong, but there was hurt in her eyes. Somehow, Richie had managed to convince the girl of his dreams he hates her when that couldn’t be less true.

“I don’t.” He forced a chuckle to ease the tension but y/n wasn’t having it.

“Can I tell you something?” y/n asked. Richie nodded, a quizzical look on his face. Before continuing, y/n swallowed. She didn’t usually get nervous, but Richie was someone to get nervous over. “I like you.”

Her words felt like something out of a dream Richie once had before.

“What can I say, kid. It’s impossible not to.” Of course, y/n didn’t really like him. At least, not like that. She was probably just saying this for shits and giggles. Pulling his leg. A classic Richie stunt.

“I mean, I like you like how Ben likes Beverly.”

Richie’s eyes then widened at the declaration and his body stiffened.

“It’s okay if you don’t like me back,” she said with such ease that Richie admired. She shrugged and the thin strap of her tank top fell down her shoulder. Richie couldn’t help but notice, his eyes wandering where they shouldn’t.

“Listen—” He gulped. His eyes kept trailing down no matter how hard he tried not to. “Listen,” he repeated, now meeting her big eyes, “I don’t not like you, y/n/n. In fact the funny thing is… is—” his words got caught in his throat. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her. Not with Stan’s breathing always down his back (whether Stan was actually there or not).

“What’s so funny, Rich?” Her soft, sweet voice filled his ears once again. It was like a spell, because suddenly (and conveniently), the thought of Stan was no longer in the back of Richie’s mind.

“I like you too, kid.” His voice was low, but y/n still heard him.

“So what’s stopping this?” A sly smirk formed on y/n’s face. She climbed over the control panel and her already short skirt rode up to be even higher.

y/n sat herself on Richie’s lap. The boy had to keep from pinching himself. What was happening was straight out of a wet dream of his he’d probably had last night.

The girl on his lap was toying with a strand of his hair while looking into his eyes. Her shoulder was still bare from the strap that fell off it.

“I’m so glad you feel the same way.” Richie didn’t think he could help himself any longer with the sultry way she was speaking and the fact that she was on his lap. “Now I can do this.”

y/n placed a tender kiss to the awestruck boy’s lips. It was slow and steady. She didn’t want to mess things up since they had just admitted their feelings to one another.

But Richie was impatient.

As soon as she pulled away, he connected his lips to hers again. He was sloppy and fast paced with his movements, yet still full of passion.

y/n giggled into his mouth which caused Richie’s heart to skip a beat. She’d been waiting for this moment since she first laid eyes on him.

The first time Richie stepped foot into the Uris household, y/n had greeted him excitedly.

“y/n could you get that!” Stan shouted to her from their den. He was busy setting up board games, making sure every last piece was in its designated place.

“Why do I have to?” y/n grumbled, still walking out of her room so she could get to the door anyway. “You were closer.”

“I’m preparing for game night. This is the first time my friends are coming over and I want everything to be suitable.” Stan was polishing the game pieces now.

“I don’t think your friends will mind if one of your little thing-a-ma-bobs is out of place.” y/n jokingly tipped over one of the players to Stanley’s game that he had already put into place but she quickly put it back upon noticing the discontent that marked his face as she did so.

“I’ll mind.” Her brother replied calmly.

Another knock at the door.

“Can you please get that?”

y/n got up and walked over to the door. She was first met with a lanky boy whose legs were too long for his torso and eyes were too big for his face.

She didn’t expect Stan’s friends to be hot.

“Hi!” y/n exclaimed, hoping to give off a good impression on the group.

“I didn’t know Stan had an underaged maid. I guess the Uris’ will do anything for labor work.” No one laughed at Richies joke.

“That’s Stan’s sister, dipwad,” Eddie said, disgusted at his friend.

Richie made an ‘o’ shape with his mouth and the group shuffled in, meeting Stan in the den.

“Stan you never told me you had a hottie for a sister.” y/n could hear Richie’s voice from across the hall. Her intestines turned into butterflies and she could pass for a canary with how red her face had gotten.

But despite having the hugest crush on Richie, y/n never shared any classes with the boy. She was a year younger than Stan, but in the same grade as him because of the accelerated classes she took. So y/n had to admire from afar.

Well, not anymore.

Her lips were now attached to his neck, eliciting a moan from him. She smirked at that and started to roll her hips against his. Her name fell from his lips over and over and over again which evoked her to keep going.

“Richie!?” An angered voice called from the outside of his car.

It was the one and only. Stanley Uris.

It was too late to act fast. Richie pulled y/n off him and looked guiltily out the window to see the face that matched the voice.

But Richie already knew who it was.

“Who me? I dink you ghat de wrahng goey.” Richie did his best Irish man accent but it was no use.

“Okay, Richie, cut the crap.” Stan’s face was twisted up in an expression that almost scared Richie. His hands were folded against his chest and he was waiting for an answer.

Richie simply couldn’t bring himself to answer the boy. He sat in shame with y/n next to him staring at her brother. Richie may as well have had ‘I’M SORRY’ written on his forehead with the way he was gaping at Stan.

“y/n get out of the car.” Stan said, breaking eye contact with his friend.

The girl complied, whispering about how sorry she was to the boy who drove her home before getting out. After that, she didn’t dare glance back at him in his car and Richie didn’t have the energy to even look anywhere besides the steering wheel.

That was last week. Since then, Stan and Richie hadn’t said a word to each other. Richie hadn’t spoken to y/n since then either. The tension was too thick between Stan and Richie and Richie didn’t want to mess things up more than he already did.

“I c-cuh-can’t believe yo-you liked y/n.” Bill chuckled.

It was after school and the two were in the library. The details of what happened that day eventually got out. Both Stan and Richie had told their sides of the story and the losers were respectful enough to not take sides. They just hung out with Richie when Stan wasn’t around and hung out with Stan when Richie wasn’t there.

“What’s so bad about that?” Richie looked skeptically at his friend, trying his best to defend himself.

“I mean, yea-yeah sh-sh-she’s cute—”

“She’s beautiful.” Richie cut off but Bill rolled his eyes.

“What-h-ever. I-it’s just funny tha-hat you wuh-would go after her.”

“I already told you she kissed me first.” Richie proclaimed, a little too proudly.

“Sh-he’s Stan’s sister!” That was true.

“And a good kisser.” That was also true.

“Gross, Richie.” Bill returned to the book in front of him, but Richie kept egging on the conversation.

“I don’t see why someone has to be off limits just because they’re related to a friend.” His annoyed tone was evident and Bill gave him a sympathetic look.

“It-t’s b-ba-basically written in th-the br-r-ro code.” Bill paused for a moment and Richie didn’t know if it was because he was embarrassed of his stuttering or if he was gathering his thoughts. “But i-i-if you li-li-like her… wh-who am I to s-suh-say any-th-thing.”

If Bill was insinuating what Richie thought he was, then that made him cooler than he already was.

And that’s how Richie found himself in y/n’s room Friday night. The losers were meeting up at the Aladdin to see the new Jim Carrey movie and somehow Richie had been able to get himself out of it, claiming he was overdue on chores and couldn’t make it.

“Th-that’s t-too bad, R-Rich.” Bill said over the phone (but he knew better) while the other losers pressed their ear up against it, listening in. “The c-co-omedy should be ri-right up your alley.”

“Dumb and underdeveloped?” Eddie asked Bill. “I don’t wanna see a movie just to hate it,” he complained.

“Yowza, Eds. And I thought you appreciated my jokes.” Richie feigned hurt over the speaker. “Anywho, I gotta make like a tree and hang up. The ‘rents are asking for me.” They weren’t.

“O-okay. Maybe nuh-nuh-next wee—” Beep.

Richie had already hung up.

y/n grabbed his hand, which was clamped over her mouth and took it off. She was bursting to the seams with laughter.

“I can’t believe you’re a liar now,” she tsked, trying to fake an ‘I’m-not-mad-at-you-just-disappointed’ look that her English teacher had given her once.

“Only under these circumstances.” He was fast to attach his lips to hers. They didn’t have much time and he wanted to make the most of what they had now.

Richie was on top of her now, his lips still on hers. He kissed her everywhere from the crown of her head to the crook of her neck. If his kisses left a print, her skin would be buried under them.

“Rich…” She sighed contentedly, eyes fluttering from the pleasure he inflicted on her when he had found a sweet spot behind her ear. y/n kissed him back hard with force and a sort of dominance Richie didn’t know she had in her.

She flipped them, so that she was on top now. y/n took this liberty of having full control to take off her shirt and Richie’s as well.

Richie smirked and began to kiss lower. His pace was slower than he originally started. Painstakingly slow. y/n wined at how delicate his lips felt tracing her skin but she needed more.

“Touch me,” she urged. Richie obeyed, his hands were now on her chest, massaging and caressing her delicate skin.

There weren’t enough words to describe the thrill and satisfaction Richie gave her. y/n could relish in this boy’s embrace forever with how good he made her feel. She began grinding against his jeans, just like the day they were caught by Stanley, so she could ease the ache for him between his legs.

Richie chuckled, feeling her press against him. He knew precisely what she wanted but to give or not to give in was the question.

“y/n/n, we don’t have that long,” He warned.

“I don’t care.” She started peppering his face in kisses the same way he had done to her. At the same time, she began to unbutton his jeans. Who would Richie be to turn down sex anyway?

She was fast at getting him inside her. Definitely not inexperienced. But Richie didn’t want fast. Not with y/n, at least. He wanted their first together to be slow, sensual, special—

“You’re amazing,” he grunted and she blushed in response.

Her pace quickened at his praise. Their movements together felt electric and y/n herself was so hypnotic, Richie felt he could get lost in the thought—or the feeling —of her forever.

A feeling that was indescribable washed over Richie once the two of them were finished. He had stayed inside of her, and y/n was now laying on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and tracing circles on his skin with her thumb. Their chests rose and fell together at the same time, a small action that Richie melted at the sight of.

“For the record, I didn’t want it to happen like this,” Richie said. There was a sort of fear palpable in his tone.

“For the record, you kissed me first.” y/n eyed him suspiciously before giving him a peck on the cheek. “And what does that mean? Did you…” She shyly decided on her words for a moment. “Did you not want to..?”

“No, no, no, no.” Richie immediately counteracted the girl’s suggestion. “I so wanted to do this. I’ve dreamed about doing this—” Richie stopped himself before his talking could make things worse, but y/n found his rambling amusing.

“So, what did you mean?” y/n tried again. She reached out to hold his hand, intertwining her fingers with his.

“I mean.” He let out a sigh before continuing. “I wanted us to be, like, an official couple and shit before we do this shit.” He motioned between them and to where they were still joined.

y/n flushed at the sight and covered her face.

“Hey.” Richie was soft. Softer than y/n had ever seen him be. He took her wrists in his hands, uncovering her face so he could admire her.

She was stunning even after sex.

“I don’t want this to be a one time thing.” He was almost embarrassed to admit it, but with y/n he didn’t feel the need to be afraid. “I want us to go on dates and hold hands and tell each other about our day.” He was looking at the ceiling, daydreaming at the thought.

y/n’s eyes searched his face thoughtfully. “Of course, Rich. I want that, too!” She kissed his lips once more, elated at the boy in front of her. Her face fell shortly after she had a sudden understanding. “What’re you gonna do about Stan?”

“Who’s Stan?” But Richie’s fake grin wasn’t fooling anyone. “Uh, well, we could tell him…” But when Richie saw a certain uneasiness consume y/n’s face, he ruled that option out. “How do you feel about dating in secret?” He offered. The situation wasn’t ideal, but at the time it seemed to be the lesser of the two evils at hand.

“Okay,” y/n whispered. “So you should leave.”

“Woah, babe, I just got here.” Richie sat up, looking for his shirt.

“Yeah, but the movie should’ve ended by now.” y/n gestured towards the alarm clock on her nightstand causing Richie’s jaw to drop.

He was heading towards the window now, knowing he had enough time to get out, but he wanted to be careful.

“See you tomorrow then?” y/n giggled at how clingy he could be.

“I’ll call you.” And Richie just couldn’t get enough of the smile she was wearing.

“Sounds like a date!” He yelled from outside her house.

During the drive home, Richie’s thoughts became lost in y/n once again. This was just the beginning.

#it 2017 #it 2019 #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2 #it x reader #it imagine #it fanfic #it fic #richie tozier #it richie #richie tozier x reader #richie x reader #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier fanfiction #richie tozier fic #richie tozier scenario #richie tozier fluff #richie tozier smut #bruh can this be classified as smut idk

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slashingdisneypasta · 4 years

Text

Teenage!Chucky x Fem!Reader || Oneshot

Title: There Are Worse Things You Could Do

Notes:

This is, of course, based loosely on the song from Grease that Rizzo sings, ‘There Are Worse Things I Could Do’.

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang is a repressed childhood memory. I know I watched it multiple times, but I forgot everything. This is only barely relevant.

I’m obsessed with teenage!Slashers x Readers... I don't think I’ve written for normal adult Chucky, oops.

Plot:

You’re having an emotional night, when all the things build up and you just feel like crap. And on the top of the list? Why, what everyone else seems to think of you, of course! Its always the way.

Don’t worry though, your no-judgment friend comes to lay out the law. There are worse things you could be doing, babe.

And, theirs also romance brewing if you read the bonus part XD

Warnings: Talk of slut shaming, sexual references, swears- a general PG rating though I think? Not worse then How I Met Your Mother I don't think, except it contains more swears.

~~~

“Hey, sexy legs. You’re usually in bed by now aren’t you?” Chucky’s voice calls through your open window and your phone, and you look over to see him there rather then at his home, talking to you on the phone. Your eyes widen from surprise, appropriately. As one would do when someone climbs through your window without warning.

“What are you doing here??” You get up quickly and close your bedroom door. Everyone else in the house is asleep, but you aren’t taking any chances, and lock it as well. You should be in bed, honestly. You’re in your pyjamas and everything -Oversized hoodie and undies, -. You know you would probably feel better about… the world in general, or more specifically yourself in this particular instance… if you did go to sleep for a while. You’re aware. You know this. But… no. Something in you says to just stay awake and suffer through it.

Its lovely.

You two sit down on your bed, getting comfy at the headboard beside each other as he explains, coarsely and shortly, that he doesn’t like talking on the phone. You don’t know why you’re comfortable with Chucky -he’s crude and reeks of bad decisions, -, but… eh. You started talking to him at the start of the year since he was the only other person in one of your new classes that didn’t have a friend there, and he stuck like a bad smell. You are pretty attached to it -him, - though, you guess. Gathering a pillow to your chest and raising your knees up to chin level, you chew the inside of your cheek instead of responding again. You don’t know what to say. He knows how you feel right now- maybe he’ll impart some wisdom onto you.

Peaking over at him and his frustratingly untaken care of hair, you roll your eyes. Yeah right. Chucky cant even take care of his, now, thicket of hair.

When he doesn’t say anything, just looks down the bed at your doona cover, you gather the courage to fish for an explanation. “Why are people so mad that I’m a-a... a… “Suddenly, the word ‘slut’ dies on your tongue as your heart makes a pained yelp about it. Usually, you don’t have a problem with the word. Why should you? Its’ just a word. But… but the looks you get from the people who say it, those hit a different hit a different way. And that’s what has messed you up tonight. Cold looks and disgusted mouths, like you’re a used rag… full of fucking STD’s, or something… Touching your lips instead to the pillow, you shake your head. “Why are they so mean?”

You’ve never hurt anyone. Any guy that you engage with is fully aware what’s happening; You never lead them on to think it’s anything more then just sex. And the last thing you would ever do is make someone uncomfortable- in fact, you probably do too much to avoid that possibility.

But people still… you don’t understand. You don’t understand. Why can’t you just do something you like? What do you have to do to make it okay??!

He rolls his head against the headboard to turn and face you. You don’t shy away from his dull, deadly serious gaze. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? People suck.”

“I, don’t suck.” You press your lips firmly together in a straight line. Even if you are feeling crappy, you wont sink into a puddle of self-despising gruel… even if that is, in fact, how you feel inside. Saying it would only make it real, and some things just don’t need to be made real. Fake it until you make it, cry-baby. You nod to him. “You don’t suck… “Then your lips quirk up a bit, to lighten the mood. “Much.”

“No, see, that’s why I hang out with you! So supportive and encouraging.” He forces a grin for your benefit, looking forward again but this time towards the ceiling. Why is he so down, you wonder?

You force a laugh from your chest. “Yeah.” Closing your eyes, enjoying a little bit the cold of the wood of the headboard against your cheek. “I just don’t understand- “

“Y/N.” The sternness and the steely annoyance in his voice suddenly, cause you to open your eyes and see what’s on his face- ah, it matches his voice. “The only thing you haveta’ understand, is that those people that talk about you because you fuck around, are worthless. Bitch,” You raise your eyebrows and widen your eyes at the name he just called you and he let’s out a dry laugh, looking amazed for a moment as he thinks about those people. Then, leaning into you and talking like he has all the wisdom in the world in his head, he assures you. “There are worse things you could be doing. Trust me.”

Letting out a deep breath and the tension, your roll your eyes and turn forward, thinking about that. Its true, you suppose.

Hugging the pillow tighter and scooching over to collapse into his side, suddenly wanting his affection as well as his words, and because you’re drained, you sigh. “Sorry, I don’t feel much better, but thank you for saying that.” It may have been put kind of crudely… or very crudely… but you’re aware that he meant well. So, you are grateful. Wordlessly, like its somehow the most natural thing in the world, like you’ve done this together before which you most certainly haven’t, Chucky situates himself to make you both more comfortable. Raising his arm so you can fit under it and resting it over your shoulders and shuffling to fit better against you. “You want to watch a movie with me?” Honestly, you just don’t want him skipping off just yet.

Its nice to connect this way with your friend.

You didn’t realise how nice it would feel to spend time like this with him. You would be very, very discontented if he left now.

“Yeah, but I’m picking which fucking one. Leave it up to you in this state, and you’ll put in freaken Sound of Music.”

A few minutes later, after Chucky has thoroughly looked through and critiqued, -and you use ‘critiqued’, very loosely. He mostly insults your five movies, - your small DVD stack and put something in, and returned to the bed and your position from before -even throwing the doona over you both, saying his legs are cold. Which, to that, you give him a slow nod. Yeah right. Sure, - Disney’s opening scene plays, with the castle and Tinkerbelle, and you suppress a snort. But you can’t hide the grin, or stop the words from coming out of your mouth. “’Sound of Music’s bad, but ‘101 Dalmatians’ is okay?” The less you think about your feelings before, the less relevant they seem when you look back two minutes in hindsight. You feel more and more your normal self.

“It was this or fucking ‘Chitty Chitty Bang Bang’, and that’s not happening. Your collection sucks.”

“My collection rocks, you dumbass.”

“Shush, its about to start, No talking during the movie.” His eyes are glued to the screen now, as the beginning credits roll. You grin, but scrunch up your nose too.

“Jesus Christ, you’re one of those? - “A wide, spiteful grin rips across his mouth.

“You betcha! Now shut up, theirs a punishment if you talk.”

Quickly, you turn to the TV. “Oh, jeez.” You shut up as he demanded, at the mention of a punishment.

OPTIONAL BONUS! The next morning- you had to see this coming

Waking up in the morning, you rub your eyes and look over to see Chucky’s blurry figure, still fully clothed from what you can tell including his jacket -hopefully not his boots, - you flash the sleeping boy a courtesy smile for how nice he was to you last night and move your stuff body slowly off the bed and out from under the covers. You imagine your stiffness if from staying in one position the whole freaken night- it was nice, but now your back and your arm are dying.

But… as you put up your hair in a quick ponytail and walk by the mirror, ready to get dressed and wait around for Chucky to wake up so you can see him off, you realise something is… missing, here. Looking down immediately, you realise what it is, and your eyes grow wider then ever before. Like, a full on ‘Oh-My-God-I-Didn’t-Even-Realise-Or-Remember!!’ face and you would have gasped loudly if you hadn’t thought quickly and pressed your lips hard together.

Your underwear. Your underwear is what is gone.

“Goddamnit Y/N, tell me you didn’t… “You whisper, panicking shortly as you pull on some clean ones, and then tip toe around the bed, looking for any sign that Chucky’s pants are anywhere but on him. When you don’t find it, you go ahead and pull up the blanket at the end of the bed and check -not pulling up high enough to see anything but his legs below the knee at first, - that his legs are covered in the pants. You let out more and more of a relieved breath as he continues to be covered all the way up to his waist. If anyone were watching this, they would laugh like a hyena at your antiques and your expression.

But, even as you discover that he still had his bottom garments on, memories come right back to you from the night and you realise how doomed you are.

It happened. It sure did. You and Chucky Ray fucked last night. Oh god! Oh, dear god!

“I mean, thank God I had condoms in here at least?” You mutter to yourself, sinking down on the bed and covering your face in your hands in embarrassment. “Ugh… “

Also, you think as you remember the events, face still in your hands, it was really good. Not the point right now, but you did learn an important thing last night.

It sure ain’t about size- what they say is true. It really is about what you do with it.

Y/N goddamnit that is absolutely not the point here.

“Aghhh, I knowwww… “You whisper back to your own thoughts.

A minute later, Chucky wakes up and you peak over your shoulder at him when he sits up, as guilty as a child with jam on your hands. You don’t actually have any jam of course, but there certainly is a stain somewhere. And a certain sticky sensation still under your underwear. “… Hi Chucky. Do you… happen to remember… what happened last night?”

He but smirks at you.

You respond by deadpanning. Well, in that case, you’re not embarrassed anymore either. Getting up, you scratch the back of your head and move to goon with your day. Shower, first of course. “Okay, well if you’re done here I gotta take a shower and clean up what is probably a nasty mess,” You squint pointedly at him. “That you left, wherever you dropped the condom.” You can’t imagine Chucky was courteous and found a bin for it.

“Goodbye kiss?”

“Wh- “You look back at him from the bedroom door that you were about to leave out of, see him grinning and roll your eyes. Ah, joking. He’s joking. Funny man! Not that you would have kissed him it was a legit request… aha, not at all! You didn’t want that! … hahahaha… “You’re very funny.” Then your eyes widen, and you rush back to your dresser for your body lotion. “Oh! I forgot my- “Focusing on rifling through your dresser, you don’t really pay attention to what Chucky is up to. You do hear him get out of the bed, but you suspect he’s headed for the window. When you find the pretty purple bottle, you go to turn and waive bye to him but end up stuck in place.

He's behind you, and his hands are on your hips again. Keeping you in place this time as you hug your lotion bottle and look like a deer in headlights, vaguely sceptical about this, and find his eyes in the mirror. “… yes?”

“Y/N, I was serious about that goodbye kiss.” A wicked grin catches his eyes that sends a surprising, new feeling down from your heart to… let’s just say another place... “Unless you want me to join you in the shower.”

For a moment you just pause and take in the moment for what it is- very arousing and also the beginning of a wonderful new chapter in your friendship. Then you scoff and smack him gently with the purple lotion bottle. “My parents are awake now, are you crazy? Now go home, I’ll text you later.”

You turn around, as if you’re going to fly past him and out the door but he manages to press forward in time and stick you to the dresser, hands on your waist and knee between your legs now. With the golden morning light slipping through the still open window from last night that he had crawled through, in the perfect light of day and not the secret stars, like you’re actually a couple, Chucky gives you a kiss that you reciprocate all too eagerly. Its just as good as last night, maybe better.

“… Hey Y/N? I have a solution to your problem last night that I think you’ll like. By definition, a slut is a woman who has many fuckbuddies. I have a special onetime only proposition for you babe that’ll grind that number down to just one.”

#Chucky x Reader #Charles Lee Ray #Chucky #Charles Lee Ray x Reader #Oneshot

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lucas-koh · 3 years

Text

Stitches - Bryce Lahela x MC XII

Parts 1-11 linked in bio!

Somewhat canon compliant.

Rating: M, mentions of medical misdemeanour, implied sex, language

Song: Do I Wanna Know (Live At The BBC) - Hozier

Word Count: 3367

Taglist: @lahellacute @lahamseiroshoe @anotherbeingsworld @fuseboxmusebox @choicesficwriterscreations @bubblelaureno @bratzlahela @eleanorbloom @bryceslahela @thegreentwin @kelseaaa || please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from this list

Chapter Twelve: An Inconvenient Truth

So. Denial hadn’t been working. At this point Suki had to admit to herself her crush on Bryce. She had no clue what to do. She should end it, right? It wouldn’t be fair on him. He hadn’t signed up for this and they’d made it pretty clear they didn’t want this to happen.

Suki hadn’t had feelings for anyone in such a long time that it had never seemed possible to her. She’d never dreamed she’d end up feeling some type of way for Bryce Lahela. The moment she felt that déjà vu she should’ve run for the hills. Maybe in hindsight the whole thing was a mistake, but it was too late now.

She was laying there in his bed, on his chest, wearing his pyjamas. She definitely wasn’t doing herself any favours right at that moment.

She wanted to stay there forever, enveloped in his smell and his warm skin and the light breeze of his breaths on her forehead; the soft cotton of his pyjamas, the dizzying sensation of his arm on her waist.

But god, Bryce really hadn’t bargained for this. She had to get out of there before she drove herself crazy or overstayed her welcome. Or worse, drove him away. Because although it might not have been what was best for her after the revelation, all Suki wanted was to keep Bryce in her life.

“Thank you so much. Again. But I oughta get out of your hair.” She started to lift herself off him, dreaming up reluctance as his arm fell away from her.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want. You said you had today off too, right? You must be feeling pretty rough,” he chuckled.

“Thank you for offering but really. I should go home.” Should more than you know. Should for my own sanity. Should because it’s the right thing to do when it was me who fucked up.

Bryce left her to it as she changed out of his pyjamas – slowly, she was hungover as hell – and back into the clothes that were strewn across Bryce’s kitchen.

“I’ll wash your underwear for you,” he offered, as they had been caught in the crossfire of her vomit. She could tell it was a serious offer despite the smug smirk painted on his face.

Stop it! Stop it stop it stop it! “No, you won’t. I have a washing machine at home.”

She collected them from him in a plastic bag, how embarrassing.

Imagine making such a state of yourself? I’m twenty-fucking-eight years old and I drank too much because I was afraid to admit I might have some stupid schoolgirl crush on my fuck buddy? Have you ever seen anything more tragic? And now he’s fucking handing me my sick-soaked underwear in a plastic fucking bag. Like a fucking child. A child who threw up at school and had to go home early and get picked up by their mom. And now I can’t stop fucking cursing myself for putting myself in this position. If there was ever any moment at all that he maybe saw me as more than a fuck, that moment was lost now.

So Suki left, her head spinning and not just because of an asshole of a hangover.

Maybe it was just a temporary baseless infatuation. Maybe Suki shouldn’t have been jumping to such drastic measures…

So that - Suki’s denial and clinging on to the hope that she could find a way to continue this – was how Suki and Bryce ended up continuing to sleep together throughout the month of February. But the longer it went on, the more sure Suki was that this addicting feeling when she thought of him was sticking around. And it wasn’t fair on him.

She kept thinking about it, considering her options, making the excuse that she didn’t want to jump into the wrong decision. So yeah, she kept sleeping with him. And no, there was no way in hell Suki was admitting to Bryce that she was into him.

She’d been afraid to contact him after everything that had happened, the amount of embarrassment she’d caused for herself, but he was the one to reach out first. It surprised Suki that he even wanted anything to do with her after all that.

“How’s your hand?” He’d asked the first time since the incident, picking up her wrist and investigating the healing.

“It’s okay, it doesn’t hurt much any more.” The wound was scarring to scab and itch.

“It’s looking good.”

“I guess I have your skills to thank.”

“How many times have I told you?” He grinned, “I’m a talented guy.”

They’d become comfortable with one another, really comfortable, and the friend part of friend with benefits could no longer be ignored.

Suki’s problem? Bryce was impossible to get a read on. She had absolutely no idea to tell if her newfound feelings were reciprocated, because he was a huge flirt to everyone. And Suki wasn’t one to take risks. So she didn’t say anything, assumed Bryce felt the same as he ever had for her.

She was right, of course, but not in the way she expected.

A few nights into the month Bryce texted:

Scalpel Jockey: *sigh* i should call her😉

Bryce’s text was accompanied by a selfie taken in front of his toilet, wide grin and thumb up. So embarrassing. He’d been right about the blackmail thing, then. He wasn’t going to let the mess I was go.

Santa Fe: you’re not even using the meme right

Scalpel Jockey: well my toilet misses your mouth so be sure to come visit it tomorrow

Santa Fe: you think you’re going to get laid after reminding me of the most embarrassing night of my life?

Over-exaggeration. But it honestly sort of felt that way.

Scalpel Jockey: of course I will😏

Santa Fe: nope

Scalpel Jockey:👀😌🤨

The next day,

Santa Fe: fine. see u soon.

—-

“Owwww somethings digging into my back!” Bryce yelped as he’d rolled away from Suki. He did some odd contortions to reach underneath himself and grab whatever was causing the grievance. “Suki, why the hell is your id badge in my bed?”

“Uh, maybe because you chucked it into the abyss a minute ago.”

He gave her a look with pursed lips. He rolled to his side facing away from Suki.

“Aww, you look so cute in this. All innocent and shit.”

“Give it back.”

“I mean it! Look at that little face,” he cooed, brushing the image with his thumb.

“It’s really not my best picture at all,” she groaned. What was it about ID card images which made them always turn out terrible? And then one is left with said image for potentially years to come.

“Suki, this says your birthday is January 18th? You didn’t say anything?” He turned to face her.

“January was so busy, I wasn’t that fussed.”

“You should’ve said. I would’ve celebrated with you.”

“Birthday sex?” She laughed.

“No, like proper birthday stuff. Whatever you like doing on them. And then maybe some birthday sex,” he added with a smirk.

“Eh. It was fine, I just got takeout.”

Bryce tutted.

“When’s your birthday, then?”

Suddenly he looked bashful and uneasy. “Um. November 27th.”

“Oh my god. You’re an idiot.”

“Nah. I’m a Sagittarius,” he winked.

“I can’t believe you were trying to make me feel guilty for not mentioning my birthday when you didn’t either.”

“We actually spent it together. That day I looked after Tommy. I had a great time.”

“Oh.” He had to stop saying things like that. It was terrible for her heart. “I can’t believe you let me set a random kid on you for your birthday.”

“I said I had a great time didn’t I?”

And god Suki’s stomach was having a party, an anxiety-ridden, nerves-on-fire, doubt-clad, smitten-as-shit party.

—-

In no time at all It was Valentine’s Day. Not that Suki was paying any attention… or that she wanted to spend it with a certain god-like surgeon. She didn’t even need to mention it, the plan was just act like this was any other hookup. February 14th was just a day – the way we ascribe time only exists because of us; and therefore it’s just a normal hookup. Using existentialism to cure crush nerves? Surprisingly works.

Santa Fe: 👃

Scalpel Jockey: sorry sukes i’m sick🤒

Well. That was not what she was expecting.

But wait. What if he was faking? What if he knew it was Valentine’s Day and was worried Suki was trying to make a gesture and had to let her down easy?

Worse, what if he was spending Valentine’s with someone else? After all, they had agreed not to be exclusive. Shit. What if Bryce liked someone else?? She didn’t even think about it before and now she felt a bit sick. He was an insanely attractive guy – chances were even without time to meet people there would be plenty at the hospital falling at his feet. There was no way he hadn’t been asked out for Valentine’s.

Those worries were quelled by another text, a picture of Bryce’s legs in his bed and the TV at the end playing something. There was a small bag full of used tissues.

Bless him, he really is sick.

Suki knew what she had to do.

Clanging about in the kitchen she muscled up some veg-packed soup, a vegetable lasagne, and a vegetable stir-fry. She also blended a fruit smoothie. Then she packed everything into Tupperware and fit a couple of portions of each into an insulated container.

Suki marched over to Bryce’s with the insulated container full of her cooked meals and determination. God, I’m a simp.

When she arrived she knocked hard so that he could hear. It was a couple of minutes before Suki heard footsteps, then they stopped (presumably for Bryce to look through the fish-eye) before Bryce creaked the door open.

“Suki. Didn’t you get my text, I’m sick I can’t-“ his voice was weak and croaky, slightly nasal – and he definitely sounded ill.

“I know. I’m not here for that. I bought you these,” she held up the insulated bag.

“What is it?”

“Food. Meals. Because you’re sick and you can’t cook. It’s just simple immune-boosting stuff,” she held out the bag for him to take.

He sniffed loudly and opened the door wider. “Come in.”

She was going to protest, but for some reason she didn’t. The plan was just to drop the food off, not to come in. But when faced with the opportunity Suki’s legs carried her subconsciously. When Bryce opened the door up for her she could see him closer. Dark bags under his eyes, greasy hair, chapped lips. He was wearing sweatpants (similar to the pair Suki had tucked away in her drawer at home from Christmas), and a cotton t shirt. He looked rough. Somehow, he was still the most beautiful man she’d ever met. And seeing him like this wasn’t off-putting at all, it just made her want to look after him. Be there for him. Why am I willing to do so much for him? Liking people is a bit like giving away your soul, isn’t it?

“You get back into bed and I’ll heat one of these up for you. They should still be mostly warm, anyway.”

“Sukes, I’ll be fine,” he said nasally. The nickname sent Suki’s organs into overdrive. Because here he was at his lowest, referring to Suki with an affectionate moniker and sounding like a melancholic song.

“I kind of owe you, remember?”

Bryce hummed a nod, too tired for much else, and slunk back into his bedroom.

Suki busied herself checking all the Tupperware’s – they were cool enough to go in the freezer by then so she put all bar one away. She heated that one for a few moments and transferred it into a bowl with cutlery, planted that on a tray, and brought it through to Bryce.

He was in bed as Suki had instructed, old reruns of Criminal Minds playing on his TV. He smiled weakly when he saw her enter with the tray of soup.

“Thank you,” he said as she placed the tray on his lap.

“No problem.”

He took a spoon of soup and gulped it down gently. Then he turned to Suki, who was now perched lightly on the edge of his bed facing him.

“I’m not good with… seeming weak,” he said, looking at Suki intensely.

“You don’t need to worry about that. It’s only me. I vomited in your toilet.”

“Exactly,” he muttered, and when Suki was about ask what he meant he carried on, “this soup is amazing.”

They sat in silence with only the sounds of the TV as Bryce worked his way through the bowl of soup. Suki was too nervous to ask what he’d meant.

“Thank you,” he said as he finished the bowl. She took the tray from him and took it back through to the kitchen, washing everything up for him. She returned to Bryce’s room, noting beads of sweat on his forehead. Going into Bryce’s en-suite, Suki found a washcloth and soaked it with some cold water before giving it a squeeze.

When she returned to Bryce’s side she gently dabbed the washcloth over his hot forehead. He looked up at her, vulnerable, exhausted – very un-Bryce. She was ever so gentle as she dabbed the cool cloth over his skin. Then Bryce reached up and held onto her wrist weakly with his hand.

“Why are you doing all this?”

“Like I said, I owe you. I was hard work that night at yours.”

He seemed to accept this answer, and gulped a little as he let go of her wrist. She pulled the cloth from his forehead for a moment.

“I’m still nervous,” he croaked.

“About?”

“You seeing me like this. It’s not exactly sexy.”

Suki’s nosiness was getting the better of her, and she knew now would be a good time to strike since there’d been an opening.

“The whole… weakness thing – that’s why you were weird about the surgery?”

“Yeah. Yeah it is,” he sighed, looking at Suki as though weighing up his options. He seemed to come to a decision and continued: “I already went through struggles with self doubt. My parents fucked up my whole belief in myself - it’s why I overcompensate now. It’s why I took the surgery thing so hard, I felt myself doubting my abilities. Well it was more like – less that I was actually doubting myself, because I know I’m good, and more that I was worried I would start doubting myself.”

“Yeah, that totally makes sense.” Suki was surprised he was opening up to her like this. She noticed how he mentioned his parents, but she’d let him get there when he was was ready.

“I’m sorry for not telling you at the time.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t owed the story. So what really happened? You got kicked off because of karaoke?”

“Uh, the other surgical interns kind of have it out for me.”

“What?”

“Well… everyone liked me at first. You know, I’m a likeable guy,” he flashed a grin, a ghost of his normal megawatt smile, “but I think once they saw how competent and determined I was that changed fast.”

“Jealousy,” she scoffed, “So that’s why you don’t hang out with them any more?” Suki remembered how he’d avoided them at Halloween.

“Yeah. And there was a group of them spreading shit from the start about me, dangerous rumours that could get me fired. Saying I drink on the job, I have *ahem* sexual relationships with my patients, that I’m a terrible surgeon and only made it here because of my parents money which is...”

“Your parents are well off?”

Bryce’s jaw tightened. “Yeah, uh, people found out about who my parents are too.”

“Who are they?”

“Another time,” he bit his lip as though unsure, concern as he looked into Suki’s face.

“Okay- drinking at work, sex with patients? Where the hell did those come from?”

“Well I keep a few condoms in my locker, for you, that can’t have looked great after the accusations. I don’t know shit about the drinking. I guess it just sounded bad and anyone who has had out it for me just wants me to look incompetent.”

“Those fucking dicks.”

Bryce shrugged. “It shows I’m a major threat,” he gave her a smug grin but his heart wasn’t quite in it. “So all that stuff got relayed back to Dr Emery and the karaoke the night before was apparently the last straw. She didn’t want to take the risk in case it was true and gave my surgery to Ben.”

“Ben, huh?” She asked, a sudden iciness in her tone. Like, Ben ‘you like her?’ Ben? Digging into Bryce’s private life Ben?

“Yeah, he’s another intern - you probably don’t know him.”

Maybe not. But I’m about to.

“I know some Ben’s… what’s his last name?”

“White.”

“Oh no, I don’t know him,” Suki smiled sweetly, dabbing Bryce’s head with the flannel again. She’d gotten the information she needed.

Bryce chuckled weakly. “I told you.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah so, obviously Dr Emery investigated it all after that and realised that none of it was true. But by then I’d lost it anyway. The damage was done, you know? Sorry, I know I sound a bit ‘woe is me’.”

“Not at all. You can talk to me, seriously. Friends – remember? I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” And angrier than I’m letting on.

“I suppose I owe you an apology too. For shutting you down and running away when you tried to ask me about it. I’m just- it’s- I like being That Guy, you know? The one who’s got his shit together. The one who’s the expert surgeon. Who doesn’t let things phase him. Laughs everything off. The one who’s amazing in bed,” he looked at her with a look that was, if Suki didn’t know any better, nervous. God, it’s so weird seeing him like this. But my heart is completely breaking for him.

“If I’m-“ he continued, then seemed to change his mind, “what you need from me wasn’t that, so I didn’t want to mess things up.”

“By being human? You could never,” she smiled as she bought the flannel back to his face, but it was more an excuse to stroke her finger over his cheek comfortingly. Bryce’s eyes seemed to shut involuntarily and he moved into her touch, just letting it be for a while. He was still hot, but had a bit more colour to his face, so Suki felt she had helped at least a little.

Fuck. I like you so much.

This definitely wasn’t helping her whole predicament, because each word he’d said to her, each touch, each look on his face – and she was a puddle on the floor. Overwhelmed with the ache she felt in her chest at the whole situation. That something as ridiculous as jealousy – between people who’s job it was to help others for gods sake – had put Bryce in such a spin. And it seemed to her that losing the surgery was bad for him, but the way that affected his confidence and how he felt he had to be around her – that seemed to have affected him more.

He was too proud.

And she cared for him too much to be okay with seeing him like this.

Suki must’ve been cradling Bryce’s face longer than she’d realised, because he eventually started snoring quietly. His eyebrows now flattened on his face and looking more at peace than he had since she’d arrived. She was careful when removing her hand and placing a pillow up under his head. She placed a gentle kiss to his forehead, brushing against the cool damp area she’d been dabbing. Then she snuck into his bathroom to fill up a glass of water and collect some aspirin, leaving them on his bedside table for him before escaping his apartment.

Suki was on a mission, fuelled by affection and anger.

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lifeofroos · 3 years

Text

Part 34: Ever seen a god in IKEA?

In short: Nico gets therapy from Dionysus. In this chapter, Nico goes to IKEA to fix something, with a special guest. The rest can be found on AO3 and FanFiction.net! Also in Tumblr tags like Nico di Angelo, Trials of Apollo, Pjo, etc. This might be crazy: Chapter 34: Coffee in a cardboard cup ‘Is this sort of like Hephaestus’ workshop?’ My dad looked up at the big, glowing IKEA logo over our heads.

‘Let’s say it sells you the parts to start your own Hephaestus’ workshop at home.’

‘Then why are we here when we could have gone to Hephaestus?’

‘There is a restaurant. Also, most mortals cannot go to Hephaestus’ workshop.’

‘They could in the old days!’

‘These aren’t the old days anymore.’

‘That is no reason to go to a dump like this.’

I sighed. ‘Let's just get inside.’

‘So, what do you need? Let’s be quick, I don’t want to be here any longer than necessary.’

‘We’ll have to follow the route through the entire store. That might take a while.’

Hades threw his hands in the air, which made his robes flutter. I wondered what the mortals saw through the mist. ‘Why?’

‘Store design. Probably a tactic to generate money.’

‘How stupid.’

‘Let’s just go, dad. I know what I want, so we can quickly walk past the bedroom- and kitchendisplays.’

Even though Hades speed walked through the IKEA, pulling me along, it took about fifteen minutes to get to cupboard display. My dad was walking so fast we almost skipped them.

‘How big is this store?’ Hades yelled when I told him to stop. A few people looked at us.

‘Big. Okay, I am going to choose one of these cabinets.’

‘Yes, you will. Why, again?’

I stared at the cabinets in front of me. It needed to be thin and about a metre high. For a second, I wondered whether I should just lie about dads’ question.

‘I wanted to make a memorial for mom. And for Bianca.’ Also Bianca, although I might have mentioned that to soften my intent.

‘...ah.’ He ruffled with his sleeves. ‘Did you already tell me that?’

‘Only in passing,’ I muttered. Not with so many words. It was difficult, okay?

‘Okay, eh, but, I think it is a good idea.’

I looked up and gave him an awkward smile. ‘Yes. Thanks.’ I turned back to the cabinets.

‘I think I want the black one. With the glass window.’

‘Not the white one?’

‘No, that one is thicker, I don’t want that if I can have the other one.’

‘Oh.’ He looked a little confused. ‘Than we’ll take the black one. Can you carry it?’

I turned around. ‘We don’t have to, not yet anyway.’ I looked around. ‘Do you see a dispenser with pencils and paper somewhere?’

‘Paper and pencils? What do you need those for?’

‘We need to write down the number and unpronouncable Swedish name of this cabinet...’

‘Nico, we can just get out of this store. I’ll ask Hephaestus to make you a cabinet.’

I shook my head. ‘I wanted to get it here. Then it feels like I made the cabinet myself without having to cut wood or something.’

‘This is a pre-made cabinet!’

‘It only looks like that.’ Oh, dad, if only you knew. I noticed a pencil dispenser close by and walked towards it. Like a good citizen, I took only four pencils when I could have totally gotten five.

After I had written down the product information, I looked back at my dad, who looked very confused by everything. ‘Now let’s go to the storage room before we buy a bunch of useless stuff.’

‘How long are we going to be in here?’

‘I don’t know, maybe twenty minutes?’

‘I want to get out. And I don’t feel tempted to buy anything at all here, I don’t know why you are afraid we’ll buy useless stuff.’

I was tempted. I wanted to have the fancy black lamp, for example. I had to admit, my father was a good IKEA partner. He stopped me from caving. ‘We’re almost there.’

My father nervously looked around. ‘What even is the storage room?’

‘It is like the Underworld of IKEA. We pick up a box with everything we need to built the cabinet ourselves.’

‘What an...’ He took a pause. ‘...unique concept.’ I looked over my shoulder.

‘Yes, it is.’

‘This is it?’

‘it is.’

‘Also, Nico, I think it is a very good idea.’ I looked up from taking the box of the shelf. Dad was looking at the ground. ‘To make a memorial. I could not do such a thing. It would hurt too much to remember my past.’

I took a second to reply. ‘Yes, I get that.’ He looked like he wanted to say something, but it did not come. Not now, at least.

‘Okay, now we got this… this.’ Hades looked at the box. ‘And now? Somehow it feels like we are still stuck in this prison of interior design.’

‘We can get something to eat at the restaurant. Or something to drink.’

‘Yes, yes, let’s do that. Eh, where do we keep the…’ He narrowed his eyes, while trying to read the Swedish on the side of the box.

‘We’ll just carry the you-know. Come, I want a cup of something.’

The restaurant amazed him even more than the store itself. We sat down at a table next to the window, each with a cardboard cup of coffee. He took a deep breath. ‘I want to say that I might have something you want to put into your shrine,’ he mumbeld.

‘Memorial cabinet.’ I didn’t like to call it a shrine.

‘...Memorial cabinet.’ He shifted into a different position.

I took a sip of my coffee. It tasted like sludge, but it was better than what I had drank at Hephaestus’ place. ‘What then?’

My father snapped his fingers. A picture of my mother appeared out of thin air. ‘This. I kept it for quite some time, but I think...’ He swallowed. ‘...you know, I also learn things from the things you tell me. And I think keeping something like this around isn’t healthy for me? But it might help you.’

I looked at the picture. It was a black-and-white photo of my mother as a young woman. She was wearing a hat, a waistcoat, gloves and a string of pearls. She was smiling widely at whoever was holding the camera.

I smiled back at her. Hades put a and around his cup. He knew he should get rid of it, he just could not get himself to destroy it for good.

I looked up at him. ‘Thanks. I’ll put it into my cabinet.’

‘I know you will.’ He looked out the window, to the people in the parking lot. ‘I still have a locket as well, and a picture of Bianca. You can have those too.’

‘Maybe it can be our memorial.’

‘I think I it has to be your memorial.’

I slowly nodded, while taking a sip of my sludge and trying not to gag.

While we were carrying the cardboard box into the parking lot, I looked up at my dad. My heartrate increased. ‘You said it should be my memorial.’

He immediately knew what I was getting at, probably because he had been thinking about since I told him I wanted to make a memorial. ‘Nico, eh, about Alecto, and the Lethe.’ He lowered the box to the ground. ‘In hindsight...’ he pulled on his sleeve. ‘In hindsight I think that is one of the worst things I have done.’ He looked like he was about to cry. ‘When you and your sister were small, it seemed like a good idea. I wanted to free you two of the weight of being demigods, or at least the weight of having a dead mother. I should have known...’ He moved his hands to the side. ‘...I should have known it does not work that way. That it was absurdly stupid to even think of it.’ He held a hand in front of his eyes. ‘Sorry, Nico. Sorry. If it means absolutely anything, sorry.’

I looked at him. ‘It doesn’t bring my memories back,’ I muttered, ‘But now that I see that you…’ I looked at the ground. ‘It does mean something to me, dad.’

‘Not everything.’

‘Not everything. But something.’

He took a deep breath. ‘Something is good,’ he said. Slowly, he picked up the box again. ‘Let’s get this to...’

‘To camp?’

‘To camp. But next time, you are going to get it made by Hephaestus. Maybe you can even ask Dionysus to request it. Those two go way back.’

Yes, they did. ‘Is that very well known?’

‘Of course it is. You could even say Hephaestus was the first person Dionysus ever helped with his mental issues.’ He sighed.

We brought the box to my cabin via teleportation. Hades forgot to say goodbye. He just left me alone with my box, a few posters for the mental health action me and the Apollo campers had been working on, and Will, who was asleep on my bed.

I laid down next to him. He groaned. ‘Nico?’

‘Who else.’

‘Everything okay?’

‘Yes. I think I might go to Hephaestus in a few days, to talk and to let him make my cabinet more beautiful.’

‘Nice.’ He drifted off to sleep again. Not soon after, so did I.

A/N: the trouble with the world today beyond a doubt, is coffee, in a cardboard cup.

It might be more than just Coffee In A Cardboard cup LMAO. But go listen to that song, it was in the musical ‘And the world goes ‘round.’ I love it, it is my happy song.

Nico and Hades managed to avoid all the ghosts of people who went into IKEA and never got out this time. Be safe, people, don’t let IKEA take your soul. Don’t sell it for meatballs.

Sorry to any Swedish readers. I am sure the words on the side mean something, but I imagine that to an American they look like nothing, that is why I wrote it this way.

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notafraidofredyellowandblue · 4 years

Text

Rammstein radio interview Paul Landers 1997 - English translation

youtube

Gave the english translation a shot, as good and bad as I could make it out (if someone has corrections, please let me know). Paul is really on a roll in this interview and basically keeps on talking, sometimes rambling so far he has to backtrack to finish his story. I decided to keep the rambling part in, because it's actually part of the fun of hearing him talking 😊 (at the end are some footnotes with the translation).

Edited to add a couple of additions (outfit at first concert, what music he listens to incl footnote 4) thanks to @dinchenrockt 😘

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

Voiceover: Rammstein, at the latest since this year not an insidertip anymore. Stefan Rieger has portrayed the group and interviewed one of the two guitarists, Paul.

Paul: Calling ourselves Rammstein was nonsense really, it was a bit like a nickname, like when someone is nicknamed 'Dummy' *1) and no one knows why he is called 'Dummy' but everybody calls him 'Dummy', you know *2) someone will ask "Why are you called 'Dummy'?" It just got stuck like that, 'Rammstein'. And then we considered what to call ourselves: 'Milk' or 'Weir', 'Forest' but it all didn't sound quite right. 'Rammstein' just stuck. It had to do with a. that, b. with the force of the disaster itself, then with the force of the double 'm', then it had to do with the sound and also we think it describes the music really well.

VO: The Rammstein bandmembers are no novices in the musicbusiness. Most of them have been involved in various projects for years. Paul and Flake played for 12 years with east-berlin cult-group 'Feeling B'

P: We all had a band, every man for himself, a couple of guys played with 'Feeling B' and the bassplayer played with 'The Inchtabokatables' etcetera etcetera and parallel to these bands we fooled around in the basement and called that 'Rammstein'. That was like a sideproject. And after a while..eh..the individual bands broke up and we just did this sideproject which then wasn't a sideproject anymore and that was Rammstein. That's how it started and the first concert we ever played was at the NaTo to 15 people *3), and Till wore two sunglasses, no fireworks was set off, so it was quite peaceful, we wore black turtleneck sweaters.

VO: To 'The Inchtabokatables' singer B.Breuler Rammstein's succes is no coincidence.

B. Breuler: Good music, which uses german language and an interesting way of using their stuff with elements that weren't covered in the previous bands. Who else did those sampled guitars in german music, that is relatively new..

VO: Musical influences on Rammstein

P: I like no *4) music at all, Till likes dark, Flake listens to, he only has one cassettetape which has Johnny Cash on it, Schneider listens to Techno, Oliver listens to Industrial, the bassplayer, and Sven listens to whatever is new, that's all of us. Well all of us don't really have rolemodels, we just have rolemodels like 'Pantera', well not really rolemodels, we like them. I like music, no matter from which direction, it has to be individual. Last ones that were individual were 'Metallica', 'Pantera' and 'Prodigy' and such, the individual bands I know personally, apart from that there is some more stuff that's hot but not as groundbreaking. We are not really groundbreaking either, but there is some... I like it when music is individual, no matter where it's from. All of it influences us technically, or none of it.

VO: The Rammstein boom has reached unexpected dimensions. The in september 1995 published CD 'Herzeleid' is19th in the german salescharts. The single 'Engel' is 4th in the singlecharts and concerts are usually sold out.

P: Well no one believes us, and you don't believe it yourself, that it wasn't planned, that is, we did have a concept, but we didn't expect..we didn't want fame and we didn't want to be rich and we also didn't want in 'Bravo' *5), that is, we just wanted, or I wanted just to annoy, that was our main concern, fun at annoying people and nothing more. With 'Feeling B' everything always had to be fun, we just wanted to be wellbehaved and stuff, now we didn't want to behave, wanted to cause a little trouble, basically we did the opposite of what you should do to be succesful. We have really disgusting evil guitars, distorted, and played really slow, and did really disgusting lyrics which get to you, and then suddenly everyone think it is good. It's like you spit in a corner or Joseph Beuys *6) shits in a corner and everyone thinks it is good, that is, he probably also thought "Are these people crap?" that is, not that the people are shit, well maybe they are, but not because of this...ehm... I like that something that is really totally extreme...in the beginning we wanted to be just extreme, and now we have a nice succes with it, not that we mind that now or something...what I think is funny, was something I read today in a newspaper "The most hyped german band", well basically we are the exact opposite, that is, we are the most blocked german band, unfortunately nobody hyped us, MTV cancelled us immediately after we made a little stink there, Viva one time said "You shit band won't come to us", the magazine called 'Musik Expresse' didn't want to publish us, so unfortunately nobody hyped us. Just by simply blunt, dull being there we have achieved succes, but with succes comes pressure, when I think in hindsight where that comes from..from other directions, from directions you can't plan, that you can't... eh.. decide on yourself, that is, when you say "I want a pretty woman, who is clever, has a car and a spotted dog and so on".. you can't decide on that, you just have to wait who comes along.. A tip I can give to someone who wants to be famous, just choose music that is totally 'Out' and then persevere for 7 years...so totally..like 'Easy listening' or such, when you play 'Schlager' for 15 years, it will be modern again..

VO: Impossible to imagine Rammstein without the german lyrics, with extreme-sounding content that has led to excitement in some media that have only now discovered the group. That however has hardly damaged Rammstein. Another effect of the german lyrics is that fans can sing along with the songs in concerts. The seaman-song *7), for instance, the singer leaves to the audience almost completely, to that the keyboarder sways in a dinghy over the heads of the crowd, carried by many hands.

P: 'Seeman', for instance, was a joke, we were fooling around in the rehearsalroom and the bassplayer used this grip 'die-die-die die-die' and so on, and then Till in a pitiful way 'Come in my boat..' *8) and we all kneeled in the rehearsalroom, it was a gag, and then we played it three times and all thought it was good and then we thought "my god, the effect is so shit, let's just do it", so we are funny enough to just do it. With 'Feeling B', for instance, we weren't allowed to do funny stuff like that, that is, stuff that is actually embarassing, we weren't allowed to. The embarassing thing to go through the crowd with the dinghy is actually something people like, a bit like a circusact, 'Rock circus Rammstein invites', we did it one time, all yelled, we didn't know that.

VO: In the american movie 'Lost Highway' by David Lynch two Rammstein songs are used at key points. In connection to the movie, the mystical atmosphere of the songs particularly come to fruition.

P: At the time we wanted to shoot our first songs we sent a CD to all directors we liked for the musicvideo, and not video-directors but movie-directors, at which no one replied, and then, 3/4 year later a call came "Hello, this is.." in english that is "this is the productioncompany of David Lynch, for our next movie 'Lost highway' *9) we want to use 2 of your songs". Well, we thought "Nah, we don't want that, no, nope" then we said well why not and now it's like, how can I explain, it's like when you have a painting that no one knows, you think someone just made a little doodle on it and then people say "Ah no, that's a Picasso..", "Oh, so that's a *Picasso*, that's really great", you know? The same thing happens with us, which we think is funny, that Rammstein now means something because David Lynch likes it. And the importance that is created because of that, I think..well I don't understand it...to me it's like this...whoever makes somewhat interesting music that is individual, yes...eh..then something happens because of it, you know, that is, if I were an american I would like Rammstein too, because..at last something non-american, you know? They are happy because usually when someone comes over from Europe, it's always a band of which they have a better original at home, you know? In Europe you see few bands, well few individual bands, that is, when I go to Poland I would like to have a polish refrain in my metal song, and when I go to Russia, I want a distorted Balalaika or something, you know, I want to hear individual music and almost no one does that, and when someone does it.. *10)

VO: Current Rammstein single 'Engel' is the first extract from the CD 'Sehnsucht' which is due to be published in August. The part of the angel is performed by Bobo who came to fame with her band 'Bobo in White Wooden Houses'. Bobo's voice comes to fruition in the spherical and slightly melancholical content of the song.

P: Bobo is quite simply a friend of ours and ehm.. she was actually only intended to sing along to a few refrains, softly in the background and when she was warbling around in the studio we got the idea, let's, and before Till sang that part, do "Only when the clouds go to sleep, one can see them in the sky, they are afraid and are alone, God knows I don't want to be an angel" *11) we said "Bobo, why don't you sing 'Only when the clouds go to sleep, one can see *us* in the sky'" and so on, and she did, and she thought it was shit, said "No, I can't sing as sweet as that", because normally she sings..she sings more artistic and not that 'schlager'-like, you know, "Come on, sing really 'schlager' like a little angel" and she didn't want that either, that is, she didn't and most of the band didn't want it either, nobody wanted it, you know, nobody really liked it, we thought, because it sounded really silly *12) and then we thought "crap, let's leave it out" and then we put the part on mute, and then we thought "hmm", it was a bit like a cloud in front of the sun, it isn't as nice anymore, so we put the cloud away again and then it was nice again and then we simply kept it that way.

Translation notes:

*1) Paul uses the word 'Borstel' which can have more meanings, but in this case he is making a comparison with someone having a silly fictional nickname, so I went with 'Dummy'

*2) one of his often used Berliner expressions is 'Weeste', in official german this would be 'Weist du'; I translated it with 'you know'.

*3) more info on this first gig https://rammwiki.net/wiki/24.03.1994_(concert)

*4) I couldn't figure it out, but what he says is in Berlinisch 'jar keene', in german 'gar keine', meaning he doesn't like any music (somehow I think this is a very 'Paul' reply 😊)

*5) 'Bravo' is the largest teen magazine in Germany

*6) Paul mispronounces the name at first and corrects himself

*7) 'Seeman'

*8) 'Komm in mein Boot'

*9) Paul actually uses the german name 'Verlorene Landstrasse', took me a while to realise what he meant

*10) Here his sentence is cut off in the broadcast, I feel he said something after it..

*11) "Erst wenn die Wolken schlafen gehen, kann man sie am Himmel sehen, sie haben Angst und sind allein, Gott weiß ich will kein engel sein"

*12) Paul giggles at that 😊

#Youtube #paul landers #rammstein #rammstein interview #interview #1997 #translation #long post #paul rambling

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aye-write · 3 years

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Summary: Research student Isla Reid has been fascinated with the legend of the Kildonian Chessmen - a trio of mythical Pokemon rumoured to have lived centuries ago on the remote region of Kildo - for as long as she can remember. So, when a museum exhibit on the Chessmen is set to open in Kildo’s Hydrogate City, coinciding with her independent research project, she packs herself and her trusty partner Furret onto the long ferry journey bound for this new region.

However, when she arrives in Kildo, thoughts of her research, new friends, and an entire Pokedex’s worth of new Pokemon, are quickly dashed. Kildo is a troubled place, beset by natural disasters and fierce rivalries among its people. Isla suddenly finds herself at the centre of a centuries-old plot to invoke the wrath of the Chessmen, and is set on a race against time to stop them, before it spells destruction for the entire region.

Other Links: Read it on Ao3!

Tags: OC Pokemon journey, OC region, Fakemon region, bisexual main character, found family, ace main character.

If you are not interested in these posts, especially as I know Pokemon journeyfic is fairly niche, please blacklist the tag #Checkmate. Most of the story will be put under a Readmore anyway!

Author’s Note: This is a mammoth chapter (over 5k!) but it wouldn't have felt right ending it at any other point. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! I am hoping to keep up a bimonthly update schedule to give me plenty of time to focus on work and my other novels, so I'm aiming for February 7th as my next update date! Anyway, here we go with chapter one!

*****

Chapter One

Isla Reid stared down at the churning ocean and wondered what would happen if she fell overboard.

It could happen, she reasoned. The railings felt flimsy and only came up to her waist. With no ferry staff nearby and only a handful of other passengers too preoccupied with puffing on cigarettes, or watching their Pokemon, would anyone even notice if she did fall? Someone’s Snubbull careened past and Isla could have sworn she heard it cackle. That was another thought. A collision with a Snubbull could easily launch a full-grown person six or seven feet. At least. More than enough to send her over the railings and down into the roiling ocean below. It wouldn’t be pretty, no, but she would have taken anything over what was coming next.

Over my dead body, her mother declared when Isla gave her the news, will my daughter be going halfway around the world alone. As if she’d conveniently forgotten the past four years Isla had spent working and living independently the moment that inter-regional travel was more than a fragile possibility. Before she knew it, her mother had taken over, sitting at the telephone with the air of a military general and a dog-eared phonebook that hadn’t seen the light of day since Isla was a child. Banging the phone down ten minutes later, her mother announced that if she really must go all the way to Kildo (but you really should reconsider, darling, it’s ever so dangerous!), she would be collected from the ferry by her cousins. Cousins they’d had no contact with in years. Cousins that, if she was being honest, Isla had forgotten even existed.

Isla fixed her gaze forward. The ocean unspooled in every direction, slate-grey water in a haze of mist. The ferry ploughed on, swaying like the rocking of a newborn baby, kicking up fans of white foam. A man hanging over the railings made a funny burping noise as they cleared a large wave. Soba mewled and pushed her head into Isla’s clenched hands until she relaxed them enough to pet her. They were getting closer. And she definitely wasn’t in Johto anymore.

A stir of movement behind her and she was pulled back from her percolating thoughts. A group of men shifted through a cloud of sweet-smelling smoke towards the seats. The youngest, who couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen, had a Pidgey perched on his shoulder and a frown deepening his face.

“Shouldn’t we go inside?” he prompted the older men, glancing up at the leaded sky. “It looks like it’s going to rain. I saw on the news that another storm is coming.”

“Don’t be daft!” a man with a wiry beard laughed. His accent was thick, heavy on the vowels, and took Isla a moment to understand. “We’ll be docked well before any bad weather hits.”

“You hope,” the younger boy muttered, but it was drowned out by laughter. “Dad, I’m serious! Remember I was telling you about ADoomWithAView – that streamer? He said that all these storms and stuff are because the Vitalities are angry with— Dad? Dad! Dad, I’m trying to talk to you.”

“Son, you would do well to stop listening to that brainwashing drivel.”

“It’s not brainwashing! I’m serious! Humanity’s dependence on technology is what—”

The rest of the boy’s protests were drowned out by a prolonged blast of the ship’s horn. In the distance, something loomed out of the thinning mist. Land. They were approaching land. Soba squeaked as a ding-dong-ding rang out and a voice, in that same thick accent, crackled over the speakers.

“Good afternoon, passengers, we will soon be arriving in Port Glen. Passengers are reminded that all personal belongings and luggage must be removed from the baggage area, communal spaces, and all outer decks before disembarking. For those disembarking via the gangplank, a reminder that all Pokemon – with the exception of service Pokemon – must be safely stowed in Pokeballs and not released until you are safely onto the harbour. To repeat, we will soon be arriving in Port Glen. Passengers are reminded—”

Isla’s heart tightened in her chest. This was it. They were here.

She let her Furret bump against her hands, Soba’s soft fur instantly soothing. “I guess it’s time to face the unknown, eh?”

“Fur!” Soba squeaked.

Isla waited until nearly everyone else had disappeared down the gangplank before braving it herself. She’d travelled as light as possible, much to her mother’s disdain, but the backpack still felt she like she was hauling around a bag of rocks instead of a few changes of clothes and a laptop. Anxiety prickled over her skin – or was it just the cold? – as she faced her first tentative steps into Kildo.

She was almost disappointed when she looked out onto a perfectly ordinary little port town. Tucked into an alcove of beach, Port Glen’s harbour was filled with people and the dreamy hues of blue and green. The town lay ahead in a generous curve, bordered by a strip of sea that already looked darker, almost black, under the deepening sky. A thin wind roused the hair on the back of her neck.

Her mother had given her a reference photograph of Rhona, the cousin who was supposed to be meeting her. Related by marriage through some obscure aunt, Isla struggled to notice even one iota of family resemblance between them. The woman in the photograph had pale skin and a shock of red curls, but not much else in the way of distinguishing features.

At the bottom of the gangplank, Isla swept her gaze around, desperate for a sign of her chaperone. But there was no-one waiting. And as the last few passengers sidestepped her, heading towards the town, Isla suddenly felt very small and very alone. While she hadn’t been thrilled at the prospect of staying, even temporarily, with strangers, being alone in a new place hundreds of miles from home was an entirely different brand of anxiety.

Panicky thoughts looped through Isla’s head. Where was Rhona? Why wasn’t she here? Had she forgotten? Had she somehow missed her? Or maybe she just hadn’t seen her yet. But who was still here? She could see a sailor tying ropes, a child wailing at a dropped ice cream, a woman arguing with a… what even was that?

The Pokemon looked like an ordinary Wingull at first, so much so that she nearly skipped over it, but the longer she looked, the more she saw that was wrong with it. This Pokemon was much rounder, a body like it’d swallowed a bowling ball, and its wings were shorter and rimmed with black, rather than the traditional blue. Isla delved for her battered old Pokedex and lined it up with this new Pokemon.

“Wingull, the Seagull Pokemon. Facing competition from Chibber for natural resources, Wingull have resorted to stealing food from witless tourists instead. As such, it has gained weight over time, as well as a more deceiving nature.”

So it was a Kildonian Wingull! That made sense. Isla was the first to admit that her knowledge of native Kildo Pokemon was lacking – a poor decision in hindsight – but she really should have been able to work out it was a regional variant. A flush deepened her cheeks as she imagined her professor’s scowl.

With no guardian in sight, Isla watched the scene unfolding in front of her. The Kildonian Wingull screeched as it dove at the offending woman at the end of the docks, the sound rippling over the wind. There was something in the woman’s hands, something that the Wingull seemed intent on, certainly enough not to be deterred at the attempts to fend it off. Isla let her bag fall and released Soba from her Pokeball.

“Soba, go and help! Use Quick Attack to chase that Pokemon away!”

Soba bulleted towards the struggling woman, squashing herself flat against the ground like a snake, rising into a fierce, full-body strike when the unsuspecting Wingull’s back was turned. With another ear-splitting screech, the Wingull went down like a sack of potatoes.

By the time Isla caught up, the Wingull was gone, dropping into the water of the harbour with an indignant squawk. The woman it had accosted looked harassed as she tried to piece together a ripped plastic bag brimming with wrapped sandwiches.

“Are you alright?” Isla asked, patting her thigh to call Soba back to her side.

“Oh, I’m fine, chick, but I can’t say the same about my lunch! Those Wingull are a terrible nuisance. These tourists think it’s funny to feed them and then it’s us locals that have to live with them. Oh shoot,” she cursed as one of the sandwiches slipped out of her grasp.

Isla ducked down to retrieve it. “Here, let me help you.”

“Oh, thank you, chick,” the woman said. “I have a spare bag here. Gosh, I can’t thank you enough for stopping to help. Usually when a Wingull gets its sights on your food, it’s a foregone conclusion.”

“They definitely seem a lot more, uh, food-oriented than the ones we have back home!” Isla laughed as she helped drop the sandwiches into the new bag.

“Back home?” the woman’s eyes brightened. “Oh, I thought your accent wasn’t local. You’re Isla, right? I can’t believe I didn’t realise it straight away. You’re the spit of your mum, so you are.”

Isla tried very hard not to mind being compared to her mother, but she took a small comfort in the fact that her waif of a mother would be far more scandalised. Was this woman really her cousin? Rhona, if this was her, was pleasantly round, much bigger than she was in the photograph. And while she was still small compared to Isla, it felt like a comfort to finally see another woman in their family that looked like her. And Rhona was pretty, her red curls pulled into a modest bun and her plump skin pebbledashed with freckles. She met Rhona’s eyes and they filled with warmth. Instantly, Isla felt soothed.

“Yes!” she said, barely able to hide her relief. “I’m Isla. And you’re Mrs—”

“Now, chick, you’ll call me Rhona. We’re family after all.”

“Rhona,” Isla corrected herself shyly. “Thanks ever so for letting me stay.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem, dear. Always happy to have visitors! I’m just sorry I’m a bit late, I’d stopped to pick up lunch and that blasted Wingull got a sniff of it. Chased me all the way down from the road end! If it hadn’t been for you and your lovely, uh… what Pokemon is this, dear?”

“This is Soba,” Isla stroked Furret and she purred appreciatively. “She’s a Furret. I’m not sure if you have them here. We’ve been partners for years.”

“She’s gorgeous!” Rhona said. “Don’t leave her alone with my daughter, though, she’s obsessed with all things Pokemon. She might try and adopt her!”

“You have a daughter?” Isla asked, frantically wracking her brain to try and remember if her mother had ever mentioned that.

“Yes, my Skye. She’s thirteen and Pokemon daft. And there’s my son, Blair. He’s the same age as you, give or take. They’re both very much looking forward to meeting you.”

Isla felt like something had just severed her at the chest. Why hadn’t her mother mentioned Rhona had children? Living with one stranger had been a scary enough prospect, now there were two more cousins to contend with?

“Come on, chick, shall we head off?”

As the harbour decking melted into gravel path, Rhona’s questioning amplified – How’s your mum? How has she been getting on? Does she still see Great Aunt Florence? Does she enjoy working for herself? – as if she were trying to make up for ten years of missed conversation. Even though Isla could only give short answers, Rhona still nodded and responded as if she’d just given her the secrets of the universe.

“So, what about you, Isla?” Rhona eventually asked as they turned away from the streets and approached a dirt road, littered with pebbles. “Your Mum said you needed a place to stay for a while, but she was a bit hazy with the details. What brings you all the way to Kildo?”

By the time Isla finished explaining her final year thesis proposal, Rhona oohing and ahhing the whole way through, they were coming up on the Whispering Pines Croft. A weather-beaten cottage sat beneath the shade of a looming forest and sloping hills. Fencing laced through the land like thread through fabric, bordering off sections of patchwork ground in brown and green and the occasional flash of vibrant purple. If Isla squinted hard enough, she could make out a field full of Miltank grazing in the distance. Another field to its left was occupied with the puffy, cotton-wool silhouettes of Wooloo. The whole place smelled of earth and mud, with a tinge of salt, wafting in by the ocean-bound breeze.

Rhona paused to catch her breath. “The Whispering Pines Croft has been in our family for generations. Every generation, we seem to find something new to build.” Indeed, the cottage looked like a mishmash, a Frankenstein’s monster of building expansions. “We do all sorts here. Livestock, farming, everything. The soil isn’t as forgiving as it is in other regions, it’s full of salt from the ocean, but we manage.”

Rhona didn’t take her shoes off when they clomped inside, but Isla slipped hers off, conscious of the mud clinging to the bottom of her soles. She put Soba in her Pokeball for the same reason. Rhona led her through to a kitchen with a low ceiling, steamy with condensation, and thick with the smell of baked apples. Like the house itself, the kitchen had a hodgepodge feel, a cosy mismatch. A proper family place, a life centred around a kitchen table.

“You can throw your stuff anywhere,” Rhona said, but Isla, totally out of her depth and wishing very much she could shrink to half her size to accommodate herself in this tiny, bustling place, just slotted her backpack in the gap by the fridge.

“Can I help you with anything?” Isla asked, the pressure of standing there like a stubbed toe eclipsing every other feeling.

“No, chick, you sit yourself down. You must be tired,” Rhona said as she laid the sandwiches down on the table. “Here, you take first choice, but be warned, if there isn’t an egg and cress left for my mother, she’ll fall out with you.”

Isla’s hand froze. “Your mum lives with you?”

“Yes. She went with my Dad to assisted living for a while, but when he passed, well, it was easier on everyone to have her here. Does her the world of good to be around people and have a little independence,” Rhona said over the clatter of plates. “She’s got more hobbies than I do, in fact! She teaches classes in the old Kildonian language on the weekends too. Keeps her out of mischief.”

“Really?” Isla’s heart leapt to her throat. “The Kildonian language is something I wanted to look into for my report!”

“Well, that’s a happy coincidence then. I’m sure she’ll be happy to go over some of it with you. Oh, hang on a moment,” she said, reaching up to pull a Pokeball from an apron hanging on the kitchen door. “I’m just going to call everyone to the table.”

Isla’s mouthful of cheese salad sandwich almost ended up splattering the table as Rhona tossed the Pokeball to the ground, and the kitchen was invaded by a flurry of grey and red feathers. The Pokemon – whatever it was – came up to Rhona’s hip, had a squat body, long muscular legs, and powerful wings that it beat to great effect as it noticed the stranger. Isla yelped as the Pokemon cocked its head, its movements quick and jerky, like the ticking of a clock.

“Ruchter, calm your feathers,” Rhona said, tapping the Pokemon on its haunches. It clucked and crowed, shaking its head fiercely. “This is Isla. She’ll be staying with us for a bit.”

The Pokemon relaxed, but still fixed Isla with a withering glare. Isla consulted her Pokedex.

“Ruchter, the Farmer Pokemon. The evolved form of Chickter. Able to precisely work tough soil with their talons, Ruchter can cover a small field in minutes. Despite looking old and frail, they are tireless, and can work for hours without a break.”

Rhona ruffled the Pokemon’s tail feathers. “Ruchter, please go and fetch Blair and Skye from the fields.”

The Pokemon was off before Rhona could even finish her sentence, barrelling out the door with all the grace of a drunk Tauros.

Rhona poured tea into a flowery mug and arranged one of the sandwiches on a matching plate. “Isla, I’m just going to pop up with this for my Mum. I’ll be right back. There’s lemonades and sodas in the fridge, so help yourself.” Rhona was halfway up the stairs when she called back, “And if my two come in tracking mud everywhere, make sure they wash their hands before sitting down!”

The tightness in Isla’s chest squeezed harder. Any moment now she was going to be dropped into a meeting with two new mystery cousins. What would they be like? Would they like her? Would they think she was weird, as most people did? The memories of barbed stares resurfaced like a Sharpedo’s fin breaking the water. Strangers, her peers, her friends, even her own family, all of them silently judging her, as she tried to navigate life being both big and invisible.

No, she needed to calm down. Spiralling wouldn’t help. She repeated it like a mantra inside her head. She hadn’t even met them, and she’d already decided they wouldn’t like her. She had to get better at this.

All the same, her stomach stayed knotted and eating felt like the last thing she wanted to do. Though maybe she should wait until her cousins came in anyway, do the polite thing. She paused and went to the fridge instead, opening and draining half a can of fizzy lemonade. The bubbles pulsed through her twisty stomach, prickling like pins and needles.

She heard the voices before she saw their owners, one deep and droning, the other light and lilting. Then the door swung open, Ruchter scrambling inside in a skittering of talons on wooden floor, two people bringing up the rear.

“Skye, take off your shoes! Mam will go mad if you track mud in.”

He hadn’t seen her. Neither of them had. She didn’t know if that felt better or worse. As the two of them tromped towards the sink, she cleared her throat.

The oldest – a young man with long red hair tied in a ponytail – stopped in his tracks. “Oh, hey! You must be Isla? Nice to meet you,” he extended a hand covered in mud only to retract it when he saw Isla staring. “Maybe later, eh? Skye, make room at the sink please.”

“It’s nice to meet you too!” Isla said over the sound of running water. “Blair and Skye, right?”

“That’s us!” Blair shook his hands off at the sink. “Nice to have you here, cousin. It’s quite something having family coming from all the way in Johto, isn’t it, Skye?”

Skye moved like a ghost, silently staring under a canopy of brown fringe. “Do you have Johto Pokemon?”

Isla blinked. “Ah, yes. Just one though.”

“I want to see.”

“Oh,” Isla looked at Blair and then to Ruchter. “Is that okay?”

“Go ahead!” Blair took a savage bite out of a cheese and pickle sandwich. “Let me just put Ruchter out so the two don’t end up in a scrap.”

After Ruchter went haring out to the garden in pursuit of scattered pellets, Isla let Soba bounce out of her Pokeball. Her younger cousin’s eyes lit up.

“She’s so pretty! What is she?”

“She’s a Furret. They evolve from something called a Sentret. They’re kind of common around where I live, I’m afraid,” she added with a nervous chuckle, then wondered why on earth she was apologising.

“What type is she?”

“Normal.”

“Is she strong?”

“She’s not super strong, but we’ve been together for seven years. She knows how to handle herself.”

“What moves does she know?”

“Quick Attack, Fury Swipes, Rest, things like that.”

“What’s her nature?”

“The lady at the Pokemon Centre thinks she’s Bashful, if I remember right.”

“Does she have any TM moves?” And before Isla could answer, Skye kept going. “What’s her favourite Rock flavour? Where did you get her from? Does she—”

“Hey, easy up, Miss Missy,” Blair nudged his sister. “Come on, let Isla relax and eat her lunch. You need to get something in you too. Keep your strength up for the big day.”

Skye rolled her eyes but did as she was told.

“Big day?” Isla asked, desperate for something to fill the silence.

“Skye is going to Aberdrip City in a few days to get her very first Pokemon,” Blair said proudly.

Isla smiled encouragingly but the fact that her younger cousin was a year late in getting her first Pokemon didn’t escape her attention. She decided not to ask as Skye chattered on about Aberdrip City and how she still hadn’t decided which starter she wanted. By the time Rhona came back downstairs, Isla felt fuller and warmer than she had in days.

“I see you guys are getting acquainted,” Rhona smiled, collapsing into the chair next to her daughter and dropping a kiss on her head. “Here, what did you leave me? Ugh, cream cheese and cucumber. I don’t know why they keep it in the multibuy deal, no-one likes it.” She took a bite anyway. “How are you, Isla?”

“I’m good,” Isla said, and she meant it. “Thanks again for having me. It’s a real help.”

“So, what are your plans for Kildo?” Blair asked, nibbling on a crust. “Seeing anywhere nice?”

“I’m here for a research trip,” Isla said. “I’m doing a project on the legend of the Chessmen Pokemon, so really, what I want to do is visit the places that the Chessmen were rumoured to live, and then finish up with the exhibition in Hydrogate City.”

“Hydrogate is a long way to travel,” Blair said seriously. “Especially with all the… complications.”

Rhona shot Blair a fierce look. “Now, Blair, don’t go terrifying the poor lass! There’s nothing wrong, chick. Just a bit of funny weather.”

“And the rest, Mam! There was a landslip near Auchtermelty the other day. They reckon it could take days to clear. It’s totally stopped trade and deliveries; they have to go the long way around. Wee Arthur – that’s Auchtermelty’s Gym Leader, Isla – has been trying to dig it out single handed with his Pokemon but even he had to stop because it was too dangerous.”

“Arabella’s mother says it’s because the Vitalities are unhappy,” Skye interjected.

“Arabella’s mother needs to take a long walk off a short pier,” Blair said, and Skye let out a snort of laughter.

“Blair, watch your mouth,” Rhona said, without looking up.

“Well how stupid can you get?” Blair said. “The Vitalities aren’t to blame for this.”

“Wait, what’s all this about?” Isla asked, confused.

“Just an old legend, chick.” Rhona said. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of them, considering you’re interested in the Chessmen tale.”

“Of course she hasn’t,” a voice rasped from the doorway and Isla nearly dropped her can of lemonade. Standing in the door’s alcove was an elderly woman, skin deeply lined, and grey hair styled into a candyfloss-like perm. She was tiny – maybe a whole foot smaller than Blair – but her voice was sharp and crisp like every word held a pointed edge. “Incomers don’t make a habit of learning our secrets,” the woman said, fixing her gaze on Isla. “Then they wouldn’t be secrets, would they?”

“Mum!” Rhona said, her voice tight. “What are you doing up?”

“You think I wouldn’t get up to greet our guest? Especially one who has such a vetted interest in our local legends?”

“Oh, here we go,” Blair stood up. “I think I’m going to get the Miltank in. Looks like a storm on the horizon. Skye, are you coming?”

Isla glanced out the window. The sky had turned granite-grey, swirled with black. When Skye and Blair left, a thin wind send the temperature plummeting. Rhona fiddled with the thermostat and the heating clanged into life, but it didn’t make a difference. Icy fingers had worked their way up Isla’s spine the minute the old woman had spoken.

“Isla, this is my mum, Morag. You can call her Nana Morag though, as my two do.” Rhona said. “Mum, why don’t you tell Isla about the Vitalities while I wash up?”

“Why not?” Nana Morag said, settling herself into the chair that Skye left empty. “The Vitalities legend dates to round about the same time as the Chessmen. Think of the two as intertwined, rather than separate. The Vitalities, made up of Voltean, Burnach, Creakrone, and Liathsong, were said to be able to give – and take – all forms of energy from the world around them. Legend has it that the earliest settlers, who came here centuries ago, were given gifts from the Vitalities that allowed them to heat their homes, harness the ocean, work on the harsh land, and even have some form of electricity hundreds of years before it became common use. Now, the Chessmen, they were different. They were said to control—”

“I know this,” Isla couldn’t help herself. “They’re known as the Progression, Expression, and Protection Pokemon. They gave early Kildonians the means to develop industry, arts, and security.”

The old woman nodded approvingly. “You know your stuff. Very good for an incomer.”

“Mother,” Rhona said warningly.

“You know how the legend ends, yes?” Nana Morag checked. “The Chessmen, enraged with how humans squandered their gifts, tore the region apart and set humanity back hundreds of years. The Chessmen became dormant and the Vitalities were banished, leaving the humans to rebuild alone. Many people believe the Vitalities are responsible for all the natural disasters—”

“They’re not disasters, Mother.”

“—because they’re still furious about being banished all those years ago.”

“Fascinating,” Isla breathed out. “Is there anything else you can tell me about them?”

“I think, for now, we’ll get you sorted in your room, shall we?” Rhona interjected hastily.

“Oh, of course. Thank you,” Isla said, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice.

As she manoeuvred her backpack out of the gap by the fridge, Nana Morag caught her by the elbow, her thin, bony hand proving a surprisingly strong grip. “I have some books that you might find interesting. I’ll drop them off for you later.”

And then Isla was climbing the creaky old stairs, ready to try and slot herself into this strange new home with these strange new people.

The rest of the day passed slowly, like petals of a flower unfurling in the sun. She met Kenneth, Rhona’s husband, who split his time between the farm and the market in town. He was frighteningly tall, too tall for the cottages’ low ceilings, and he walked with a noticeable hump even when there was enough space. Rhona was a mean cook, serving up a vast pot of bubbling stew, and Isla had to banish all thoughts of whether the meat too was “home-grown” from her head in order to enjoy it.

Tiredness swept in the moment she laid her knife and fork down. The night came in so much faster in Kildo than Johto, and it felt somehow thicker and darker, like she was swaddled in a large black cloak. She was glad when Rhona took one look at her when the family was doing the final storm checks on the farm and sent her straight up to bed.

Maybe it was the fresh air, maybe it was the excitement, maybe it was the long journey, but the second her head hit the pillow, Isla was dead asleep.

Hours slipped by, or maybe it was minutes, until her world was split apart by a huge bang! She sat bolt upright, cocooned in slippery blankets, and it was all she could do not to topple headfirst out of the bed. As the world phased in around her, freezing cold air gusted into the tiny room, causing goosepimples to erupt on her bare skin. The window, left on the latch before she fell asleep, had blown open. The storm had hit.

Slamming the light on, she untangled herself and grappled with the slippery latch. Eventually she shut out the wind. Outside, everything was pitch black like the swirl of spilled ink, and the rain lashed against the house, sounding like bullets. Isla pressed her face to the window, her breath misting the glass. Something bobbed in the distance, a single pin of light, moving through the velvety dark. It looked too small to be Blair or Kenneth. But who else would be out there during a storm?

The light moved closer. Isla scrubbed impatiently at the fogged glass, terrified that if she took her eyes away, even for a moment, it would disappear. It grew, doubling first, then tripling in size, then a crack of lightning split the sky. Isla let out a gasp as her entire room plunged into darkness. The power was out.

The light in the garden was growing brighter.

Or was it really a light? It looked almost solid now. Like a real living thing. Or maybe not a something. Maybe a someone. Something behind the light looked like the silhouette of a child.

It intensified, burning so bright that it seared Isla’s eyes and for a moment, all she saw was white. Then it faded and was gone. The lamp on her bedside table flickered back into life. The winds seemed to calm. The rain simpered to a stop. And Isla was alone, aside from the impression of a pair of wide, childlike eyes burned into the back of her head.

As we have a full Pokedex (130+ Fakemon), we decided to provide more details about each new Pokemon as it's introduced, especially as we may not always be able to give full details for each one. These aren't necessary to enjoy the story but it's here for anyone who is interested. So, here are the dex entries for Kildonian Wingull and Ruchter!

Kildonian Wingull Number: 041 Type: Water/Flying Evolution: Kleptern at Lv25 Abilities: Keen Eye/Pickpocket. HA: Rain Dish Stats: 50/55/30/30/30/75 Dex Description: Facing severe competition from Chibber for natural resources, Wingull have resorted to stealing food from witless tourists instead. As such, it has gained weight over time, but has also gained a more deceiving nature.

Ruchter Number: 090 Type: Flying/Ground Evolution: Evolved from Chickter (Happiness, Male-only) Abilities: Early Bird/Tough Claws. HA: Vital Spirit Stats: 100/125/55/50/55/90 Dex Description: Ruchter, the Farmer Pokemon. The evolved form of Chickter. Able to precisely work tough soil with their talons, Ruchter can cover a small field in minutes. Despite looking old and frail, they are tireless, and can work for hours without a break.”

#Checkmate #Pokemon #Pokemon fanfic #Pokemon fanfiction

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catsafarithewriter · 4 years

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Day 6: Midnight Snack

A/N: This was inspired by a conversation with @wolfiethewriter about potentially how much Baron really knew about human habits, and how easily he’d be to fool. (Also late again... but

The first impression most folk had upon meeting Baron was usually cat.

The second impression, after realising this tiny, well-dressed feline was capable of speech and wielded his words with significant eloquence was normally gentlemen.

Most people didn’t progress past this point, which worked well in Baron’s favour because the third impression commonly veered off into chaos territory.

Haru was on her ninth impression.

This stage consisted of speed running past past words such as infallible, charming, and emotionally constipated, and boomeranging back into the early stages in a messy amalgamation of chaotic gentleman cat Creation.

The overall outcome was the realisation that while Baron was indeed a gentleman and an immortal Creation, he was also substantially under-experienced when it came to the human experience, and also was not immune to laser pointers.

And while the latter was a tendency that Haru would occasionally indulge for her own amusement (so far the list of banned Bureau items involved not only laser pointers, but also wind-up mice, chalk, and suspiciously-empty boxes), Muta was far more drawn to the former trait.

As such, sometimes there were weird moments in the Bureau.

(Not weird as in abnormal - in a Bureau dedicated to dealing with magic, the supernatural was practically natural - but just gently odd.)

For instance, being woken at 11:45pm by a soft tapping at the door.

Haru rolled over and surveyed the room that was definitely not her room for several long, belaboured moments, before groggily recalling the events of the day before.

Right.

The case.

The nightmare case.

The case involving personified nightmares and physical dreams and had been the reason she had slept in the spare bedroom the Sanctuary had spontaneously produced for her use.

That case.

She stared up at the speckled ceiling and tried to align her unexpected sleepover with the knocking at her door.

It wasn’t the frenzied oh-dear-god-the-monsters-have-found-us hammering, nor the apologetic excuse-me-but-you-left-the-dishes-in-the-sink rapping, but it was unfailingly polite. It was, in nature, the same tone that flight hostesses give when they wake you up for your paid airborne meal at 5am.

She almost would have preferred monsters.

She rolled out of the bed, grabbing the dressing gown that the Sanctuary had thoughtfully provided, and lumbered to the door.

“Wassup?”

Baron, infuriatingly bright-eyed at ridiculous hours of the night and apparently confused as to why Haru didn’t share that trait, offered what was probably a winning smile at any other time of day. “Miss Haru, food is ready.”

Haru blinked.

Then she blinked again for good measure.

When it became quite apparent that she wasn’t dreaming and Baron was indeed there and informing her about food, she mustered up all the eloquence she could manage in her sleep-addled brain, and said, “What?”

The winning smile only slightly faltered. “Muta warned me that after the chaos of the previous case, you may not feel up to macks, but he’s previously made it quite clear how important of a meal it is for mortals, so it’ll do you good to eat.”

Haru squinted through the haze of midnightitis and decided these kinds of hijinks were the reason she didn’t sleep over at the Bureau. Her mind eventually settled on the words that she had understood, even if the direction of the whole sentence had escaped her. “You’re asking...” she fumbled, “for me to come with you at...” she checked, “11:53pm, for food?”

“That seems to be the gist of it, yes.”

She stared at him, swaying slightly in the doorway. ”Sure. Why not?” She yawned and pulled the dressing gown tighter. “Lead the way, mah... messtro... maestro.”

The first signs of reconsideration flittered across Baron’s face. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

“I’m awake now. Kinda too late for second guessing.” She tucked her arm into his, partly for the intimacy, but mostly because she didn’t trust herself to find her own way to the kitchen.

A few more of her mental facilities had come back online by the time they reached the main heart of the Sanctuary, enough for Haru to fully appreciate the extensive spread of food laid out before her.

“Wow, this is... this is a lot,” Haru stammered. Geez, I’d forgotten how the Bureau never does anything by halves. “I mean, a cold meat spread and everything? Grilled cheese? Sticky rice? Why...? How...?”

“We thought you might need a proper macks after the day you’ve had.”

“...What?”

“Well, during the nightmare case, you barely had a chance to rest, let alone eat--”

“No, no, I got that. Well,” Haru amended, “I see your logic. Macks?” She wondered whether the Sanctuary translation magic was having another off day. “Is that... Is that a Creation thing?” Except Creations didn’t need to eat, so that didn’t really make any sense...

“Oh, maybe I’m not saying it right,” Baron hemmed. “Macks: the last meal of the day, originating from the tradition of eating the leftover food before the new day. A portmanteau of ‘midnight’ and ‘snacks’.” He looked at her expectantly as if that explained everything.

If anything, Haru was left even more flummoxed. The way he spoke was that of a dictionary definition, but it was no word she had ever heard. Maybe the Sanctuary really had tapped out for the night. “Okay, but I’ve never heard of...”

Across the room, Muta suddenly furiously gestured for her to derail that sentence.

Oh.

Well. Now it all made sense.

“...never heard of grilled cheese for macks,” Haru weakly finished. “Excuse me, I always take a turn around the garden before macks; Muta, please join me.” And without waiting for an answer, she grabbed Muta’s arm and hauled him out into the Sanctuary courtyard.

She waited until the door had swung solidly behind her before starting what was looking to be a very enlightening conversation.

“Muta,” she said, her arm tightly curled around his arm despite her deceptively light tone, “is it my sleep-deprived brain talking, or have you managed to con Baron and Toto into believing that midnight snacks are a legit meal?”

“Yeah, in hindsight this kinda got out of paw.”

“Kinda?”

“Look, Baron caught me snacking one night, so I lied and made up macks to get him off my back--”

“And he believed you?”

“Keep it down, Chicky; do ya want them to hear? And... eh, at first I think he just let it go. But then he started putting away the leftover food to remove temptation, so I showed him it was a real word.”

“It’s not a real word.”

Muta smirked. “It is if you edit Baron’s dictionary.”

“How...?”

“You’d be amazed what yer can do with a printer, glue, and far too much time.”

“You don’t have a printer,” Haru pointed out.

“The library does.”

Haru digested this as they circled the far end of the courtyard. “Muta, have you been sneaking into the library at night?”

“Maybe?”

“Oh my god, you’re why everyone thinks it’s haunted.”

“It is.”

Haru’s mouth clattered shut for several seconds. “Oh no, I did not need to know that.”

“Yer stuff a load of dead trees into one building, yer bound to get spirits following after, like bogeymen and ghouls--”

“Stop talking. Just... stop.”

Aware that they were returning back in the direction of the Bureau, and that too many circuits would rouse suspicion in their companions, Haru attempted to wrangle the conversation back on to relevant territory.

“You know he’s going to figure it out eventually.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t have to be today, does it, Chicky? I’ve got a good thing going here.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She made a show of tilting her head in the impression of deep thought. “I don’t know how I feel about being an accessory to your lies.”

“How about one secret for another, then?” Muta offered. “I won't tell him your secret if you don’t tell him mine.”

“You don’t know any of my secrets.”

“I know you’re the one who ate the last of his birthday cake.”

Haru froze. “You have no proof.”

“I found the crumbs on your scarf.”

“Okay, but it was really good sponge cake and I was hungry and suffering from cramps!”

“So we’ve got a deal?”

Haru narrowed her eyes. “Is this what it feels like to be blackmailed?”

“This ain’t blackmail, this is mutually beneficial shutting-up.”

“You’re skating on thin ice, buddy.”

“Just play along for this one night and I promise Baron’ll never know it was you who stole the cake.”

“Only the last slice,” Haru muttered, but she steered them both back into the Bureau, where ‘macks’ was still spread across the table. She had to admit, it did look delicious, and her stomach gave an agreeing rumble. “Well, I feel better for that midnight constitution,” she said jollily, grabbing a seat and pulling herself in. “Don’t you, Muta?”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“Mmmm, smacks, my favourite meal of the night.”

Baron gave her a strange look, and Haru wondered if she was laying the enthusiasm on a bit thick. Then, “You mean macks, don’t you?”

“...Yes?”

Another searching look. She could see the gears whirring through his mind as he put two and two together and realised he had been duped. Then he pointedly retrieved his dictionary and flipped it open to what Haru presumed was the ‘M’ section.

“Mackem... mackerel... mackintosh... macks...” His finger caught something on the page, and Haru saw the edge of paper curl, dried glue giving up its secrets as he peeled the addition away. “And look, here’s ‘mackle,’ mysteriously hidden beneath the definition for ‘macks’. How peculiar.” He looked up. “Don’t you think, Muta?”

“I... Uh... Haru ate the last of your birthday cake!”

“MUTA!” Haru gasped. “You said you wouldn’t tell!”

“Hey, Chicky, my secret’s out, so so’s yours.”

“You...” Haru felt herself redden and she threw a hand in his direction. “Muta was the one who broke the teapot!”

“She forgot to water your plants last summer and replaced all of them so you wouldn't notice!”

“He brought home the cursed chopping board that nearly ate the Bureau!”

“She’s the one who hid the laser pointer!”

“He got himself employed by a Cat Kingdom smuggling ring!”

“Yeah, well, she...” Muta floundered. “She’s in love with you!”

“WE’RE ALREADY DATING!” Haru roared back.

There was a long, long pause.

“Wait,” Toto interrupted, who had been happily watching the proceedings until then. “What? Since when?”

“Uh...”

“You’ve been dating in secret and didn’t tell us?”

Haru glanced to Baron. “Um, a little help here?”

“A moment, please.” Baron was flicking through the dictionary, apparently entirely oblivious to the turn the conversation had taken. He frowned. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that second breakfast isn’t a thing either?”

“Not unless you’re a hobbit,” Haru replied. She glanced to Muta with a ‘exactly how far did you take this?’ look before returning her attention to Baron. “Um, just how many meals of the day do you think there are?”

“Is the number in the double digits?”

“...No.”

Baron’s face took on a funny sort of expression, his whiskers twitching and his nose wrinkling. “MUTA!”

#tcr birthday bash #tcr birthday bash 2020 #the cat returns #the cat queues #day 6 midnight snack #also I maaaaay have borrovved the 'shouting secrets at each other' thing from FRIENDS #unintentionally #a ficlet in which muta has been scamming baron with fake meals for years #and haru finally accidentally brings it all crashing dovvn #I mostly wanted the 'second breakfast isn't a thing either' realisation #eveyrone's in trouble today #apart from toto #although toto technically knew or suspected that mtua was lying #but kinda wanted to see hovv far it would go #also the 'go walking' bit is probably the jane austen shovving

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lesbianmarth · 4 years

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it’s been a while since i posted about aa but i just finished soj in its entirety tonight. here’s my new list so far

i still have to give thoughts on cases 4 5 and dlc so that’ll be under a cut. spoilers!

6-4: this was such a filler case, almost shamefully so. i don’t know why they thought they could manage to do this in the 4th case when every game with 5 cases has been pretty consistent about making the 4th case plot relevant, sometimes literally just a preamble to case 5. so yeah i think this one was kinda ass

the two things it had going for it: one, athena. in 6-2 i actually got confused about why i ever liked her, because in that case she felt like she was just acting the part of the Peppy Teen Girl With a Rowdy Streak that makes up almost every assistant character. But then as SOON as she started bantering with Simon in 6-4 i was like “oh, THAT’S why i liked her!” was nice to take control of her again.

two, uendo toneido. while i don’t think you can say the DID was portrayed with quite the necessary respect or kindness, it was handled better than i’ve seen other media handle it-- at least it’s not completely demonized. other people have written more on that in better detail so i’m not really the judge, but the basic point is that this witness was mad fun to read, and even the dumb jokes like the changing number of floor cushions were entertaining. thus why this case is in the “hard carried by one side character” tier.

especially since there was like nothing else going on. no connection to the main plot, only two other characters besides uendo, and for some reason the clown tits girl was here instead of the magic show case (and to be honest, she wasn’t enjoyable for me even BEFORE she did the standard aa female villain thing and changed her speech pattern as soon as she fell under suspicion). just a weird, nothing case stuck right around the point aa games usually enter endgame. And especially weird because...

6-5 part 1: inexplicably there are two separate cases in the final chapter and each gets one day of investigation and trial. such a weird setup, and it really shouldn’t work... but i think it kinda barely does. barely. it would still have been better to split it into case 4 and case 5 though.

i have a hard time articulating much on the first case bc it sort of blends together for me. the main thing is that the concept of it being a civil case where apollo and phoenix face off is really good. it was a good change of pace, even though you knew it was gonna be a murder somehow anyway. sarge was reasonably nice, i guess, paul atishon had some good animations and quirks (my favorite being when he tries to just walk away from the stand to avoid answering a question), and the logic of the actual murder was good enough.

but i especially got those strong “oh this is a FINAL case!” vibes during the segment in the cave, and that added so much to it even if not much of it was relevant in the first half of the case. the adventure feel reminded me of some of the (out of context bc i still havent played it) scenes i know from 3-5, which is a good association to invoke imo. and it did a lot to give apollo and dhurke time to bond.

speaking of which, dhurke, holy shit. what a KING. i don’t think i’ve ever liked a dad character in ace attorney this much. he’s so genuine and like down to earth that it’s impossible not to start liking him and believe how much he cares for his sons. the bit where he rescued apollo from the cave flood... i felt it in my heart

6-5 part 2: let me just get this out of the way: ga’ran sucks. her design after she goes full evil is so bad, she’s so malicious that it’s immediately obvious she’s going to be the culprit, her breakdown is ridiculous and just embarrassing to watch, and inga had already established way more charisma as a villain when he did the “those were orders of execution actually” bit in 6-3. with that said,

i actually liked it for the most part. the spirit channeling stuff was excellent imo-- they probably use it to similar or greater effect in 3-5 but as someone who again has not played that, i was surprised and almost impressed by how well it was applied. maya was relevant for something! it feels like it’s been ages!

rayfa was a little underutilized, i think-- her moment of determination where she stops letting ga’ran have control over her was alright but it fell flat bc it didn’t have any weight during the moment. i kept hoping she would like, wordlessly take of her shawl and do the little verbal preamble to the divination seance while ga’ran kept yelling at her to stop, but no, the script can’t be good like that, i guess. and since she didn’t get to be the investigation assistant for long, none of her charm in that role carried through.

but DHURKE!! oh my god! in a game almost devoid of emotional impact, his involvement in this case really hit. the way they painstakingly animated his death, the scene where he makes a promise with maya, and then the weight of knowing in hindsight that everything he did in the first part of the case was after he’d already died and just wanted to see his son again before passing on for real....... it hurt. i felt something during that section. this case would also be hard carried by him if not for the fact that i really liked the murder bits.

amara was good too--liked how they made her suspiciously serene and accentuated it with the lightning strikes to make her look like a hidden murderer character about to reveal herself, only to walk it back and confirm she was being forced to act that way. i thought it worked. nahyuta was boring though, i’m sorry-- i get the motivation with having to be a bastard bc his sister and mom were basically held hostage, but the only time i found him compelling in that mess was the bit where he removed his one fingerless glove and revealed he still has the dragon tattoo. that was it. athena was also completely unused the whole case (not even a single mood matrix? really?) and trucy one again went without any role of importance.

the ending also... yknow, a friend said they had to end it this way bc they never figured out what they were going to do with apollo (since following up on what they started in aa4 clearly wasn’t an option???) and just threw him on a bus to get rid of him. i agree with that-- he really feels thrown to the side, and with that i think trucy’s officially stranded with no hope of any character advancement. and the way they ended the game with phoenix and lamiroir deciding “yeah, maybe NOW we should finally tell those two they’re related” honestly felt insulting lol

but maybe the dlc case will let things go out on a high note...?!

6-6: it was okay.

it would’ve worked pretty well as a filler case in an older aa-- honestly i think it’d be one of the better filler cases, certainly worth replacing the shitty ones like 2-3 or 3-3 or, hey, 6-4. but whether i’d say it was worth paying for... eh.

the time travel conceit was done well enough, i think. the way they tied it back to sorin and pierce’s backstories was nice, and the twist about having two receptions was good, although they needed to treat that as a real twist with much more gravity. when the truth comes out it just feels like “oh of course that’s what happened” rather than a big surprise worthy of the Confessing the Truth theme. it’s sort of important because the case becomes a lot less interesting when you take out the time travel element.

far as characters are concerned, i think they needed more side characters to sell the whole thing-- another sprocket family member or another servant of the household. it felt a little limited-- sorin and pierce are pretty good witnesses and i like their quirks and their secrets, but the only alive woman (ellen) has very few traits and no connection to the deeper story of the case, so she falls really flat. the old aa characters didn’t add much- maya and edgeworth were just there for fanservice, ema didn’t get to do much other than acknowledge for the first time in years that she’s a big edgeworth fan, and larry is annoying as hell like he always is.

and oh my god i actually forgot while i was writing that, how they put in athena and trucy but only used them for brief slapstick where trucy would try to set athena on fire and shit. again-- no mood matrix? couldn’t even try once to fit those two characters into something?

i did like pierce’s transformation into his surgeon form though-- that was really cool. loved him doing surgery on a robot, taking xrays of the lawyers, and his breakdown was fantastic-- he would make a really good culprit if they didn’t whiff the last bit of pathos at the end. i don’t think he should’ve been aiming for revenge on sorin; it would have hurt much more if he was still loyal to the guy and never intended for him to be in danger, but the final “why’d you do it?” talk in the trial just felt flat and one-note, much like the one in 6-4.

... so that’s spirit of justice! not a super positive experience but i’m happy to say it’s done. as much as i want to go and replay dgs, i think when i do go back to ace attorney i’ll be replaying the trilogy for the first time since high school

#ace attorney #aa playthrough

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