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ibijau · 3 years

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Futures Past pt 20 / on AO3

(posting early this week because I might not have time tomorrow)(also, because of the upcoming xisang week, I’m not sure yet if I’ll update this fic next week)

With some help from Su She, Nie Huaisang gets his wangxian ship sailing.

Nie Huaisang guiltily twisted his hands as they left the classroom, already half crying as Wei Wuxian finished retelling his first day of punishment with Lan Wangji.

"I really am so sorry, Wei-xiong!" he lamented. "I really wish I could help you. Maybe if I could find a way to copy part of the rules for you and pass them to you…"

"Lan er-gongzi would surely notice," Meng Yao softly objected. "And then you'd both be punished again."

"Aren't you busy enough with your own punishment anyway?" Jiang Cheng huffed. "You'll be lucky if you can even attend your music lessons with all that extra homework you were given, right?"

With a miserable sigh, Nie Huaisang nodded. Cheating was more work than he'd thought, and he'd have to find a better way to do it if he were to pass that year. Though really, it had been Lan Wangji’s fault for joining the lectures, which he hadn't done the previous year, and also Wei Wuxian's for taunting Lan Wangji by looking at him. Of course Lan Wangji had gotten curious, and he'd noticed the cheating, and…

For some reason, Lan Qiren had decided that Wei Wuxian was the instigator in this business, so he'd been punished the hardest. But Nie Huaisang had been given a lot of essays to write, and he didn't dare to ask Lan Xichen to help, fearing to be scolded for his dishonesty. Meng Yao and Jiang Cheng, who hadn't cheated at all, offered little sympathy and even less help, the first because he was still catching up, the second because he didn't feel like it. Hopefully Su She might give a hand, if Nie Huaisang cried a little.

"It's really not so bad," Wei Wuxian said carelessly. "I won't say that first afternoon in the library with Lan Zhan was fun, he's even more boring than his uncle, but I think I can entertain myself. I bet before the month is over, I can get him to break his self control. Now that'd be fun!"

Nie Huaisang stopped on his tracks and grabbed him by the arm, not a trace of tears in his eyes.

"Wei-xiong, why do you have to antagonise him so much?"

"Why wouldn't I? I'd like to be his friend, but he's too stuck up. Pissing him off is the next best thing."

Baffled by that logic, Nie Huaisang looked at their two friends. Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes, while Meng Yao was trying his best not to smile.

"Wei gongzi is like that, don't question it too much. He likes to tease people, and thinks everyone understands it's meant in a friendly manner."

Judging by the tone of his voice, Meng Yao himself had been a victim of that friendly teasing, and that perhap it hadn't gone so smoothly between them. That would explain why Meng Yao seemed to prefer Jiang Cheng's company, who was less fun to have around, but also a little quieter when he wasn’t shouting at Wei Wuxian.

Personally, Nie Huaisang preferred Wei Wuxian out of the three, but was getting a little annoyed at him right at that moment.

While Jiang Cheng and Meng Yao went their way to enjoy their freedom for the rest of the day (they would waste it studying, they seemed the type), Nie Huaisang decided to accompany Wei Wuxian all the way to the library, so they could chat a little. He still had a plan to put in motion, orders from his future self to obey, and his own natural desire for fun to satisfy.

“I don’t understand why you’re like that with Lan Wangji,” Nie Huaisang said as they took the longest path possible toward the library, trying to keep his tone casual. "If you want to be his friend, there are better ways. Why don't you talk to him nicely?"

Wei Wuxian did not even hesitate. "I've tried, and he ignores me."

That was sadly true, as Nie Huaisang had seen a few times. It didn’t help that Wei Wuxian naturally sounded like he was trying to tease people, even when he was sincere. He was so fun to have around that most people didn’t mind it, but for someone like Lan Wangji...

"Well maybe if you apologised to him?" Nie Huaisang suggested.

"I've tried that too, but he thinks I'm insincere.”

"Because you are!" Nie Huaisang pointed out, fighting a smile.

Wei Wuxian just laughed, but that was an answer in itself.

"Please, at least don't make him any angrier," Nie Huaisang pleaded. "He'll never be your friend otherwise!"

Hearing him get so distressed about that, Wei Wuxian stopped in his tracks, his expression more serious than Nie Huaisang had ever seen so far. He was a little scary like that, something about his height and the shape of his eyes making him look cold and distant when he wasn’t grinning and laughing.

"Listen, Nie-xiong,” Wei Wuxian said in a voice that had lost some of its warmth. “I want to be his friend, sure. I think there's something interesting about him, definitely. I’d really like it if I could be close to Lan Zhan, and given the chance I’ll do it for sure. But if he only becomes friends with me because I start acting like someone I'm not, then we're not really friends, and it's not worth the effort."

“Wei-xiong, I didn’t expect you to be wise like that,” Nie Huaisang whispered, a little awed.

“Only you would find that wise,” Wei Wuxian mocked, and Nie Huaisang found that he could breathe a little more easily now that the other boy was laughing again. “If Jiang Cheng heard me, he’d say that my personality is too awful for anyone to like me! And Meng Yao would say something about compromises. I’m pretty sure they’re the wise ones, but I just don’t feel like acting so seriously.”

Nie Huaisang grinned, a little envious of such a bold way of living. He was not always likeable, according to a lot of people (himself included, when it came to the man he was supposed to become), and so he would never have expected people to fully like him as he was. Nobody except his brother, who had little choice in the matter, and maybe Su She who probably felt like he couldn’t be too picky when it came to friends, and… well, Lan Xichen seemed to like him as he was, too, but that was just because he was so nice.

It was so bold of Wei Wuxian to expect to be fully accepted as he was. But then again, Lan Wangji also wasn’t the sort to make efforts to get others to like him, so at least they had that in common.

As they arrived near the library, the topic had to be dropped. Wei Wuxian, with a grimace of fake agony, went inside to sit with Lan Wangji, while Nie Huaisang had the pleasant surprise of finding Su She about to leave the library, and free to spend some time with him. Lan Wangji had asked for his help to put some order in a section of the building while waiting for Wei Wuxian to arrive, and Su She couldn’t decide if he was flattered or annoyed that the request had been made to him rather than another disciple.

Su She ranted about that for a little bit as they walked away from the library, before complaining about his classes, and then about a letter from his mother who wanted him to send home some talismans because she was still convinced their house was haunted even thought he’d visited during winter and hadn’t noticed anything amiss. Nie Huaisang listened, and even reacted here and there, but couldn’t quite focus on his friend’s problem that day. Su She noticed of course, and asked what hung so heavy on his mind that he couldn’t even laugh at his description of a clearly fake haunting.

“I might have a silly question to ask you,” Nie Huaisang replied. “But please, don’t make fun of me for it. It’s kind of important, and I think you could really help me.”

“That sounds very worrying, but fine, ask me.”

"How would one seduce a Lan?"

Su She gave him such a long, serious look, that Nie Huaisang started feeling he’d rather have been laughed at after all.

"So you're finally doing something about Lan gongzi?” Su She asked. “About time, it was getting annoying how clueless you are. And, well, if you want my opinion…"

"Oh, no, this is about Lan Wangji, not Xichen-gege!"

Su She stopped walking and fell silent for a moment, his expression turning complicated. He looked as if he’d eaten a very sour lemon that also happened to be moldy, all while there was a cut in his mouth.

"Lan er-gongzi? Really?"

"Yes. See, I think Wei-xiong and him could be good friends,” Nie Huaisang quickly explained, startled by that strong reaction, “so of course I want to help. But they're the two most difficult people in the world, you know? Xichen-gege is helping, but a second opinion never hurts."

"Ah, it's just that," Su She said, instantly relaxing.

He resumed walking away from the library, and Nie Huaisang followed.

"Well, yeah. Why did you think I needed help about Xichen-gege?"

Su She hesitated, and even opened his mouth a few times to say something. Eventually he frowned and shrugged.

"If you're too stupid, it's not my problem,” he said. “Let's talk about those other two instead, since you’re so preoccupied. Aside from being equally good at fighting, what do they have in common?"

Nie Huaisang crossed his arms on his chest and shook his head.

"Nothing at all."

Su She nodded.

"Then I guess they need to fight again. Maybe in public."

"You think that'd help if they had an audience?" Nie Huaisang wondered.

"No idea,” Su She said with a wicked grin, “but I'd like to see Lan er-gongzi in a fight that makes him break a sweat."

Nie Huaisang poked him in the ribs.

"Mean. But… Wei-xiong can be pretty full of himself,” he admitted. “I guess I'd also like to see if he's as good as he thinks. How to get them to fight though?"

They’d reached a more isolated part of the Cloud Recesses, a small garden that rarely saw much use, just at the border to the wilderness. They found a bench, and after removing some dead leaves they sat there to continue chatting in peace.

"In two days, you get a day off from lectures, right?” Su She asked. “Get your Wei-xiong to the training grounds after lunch. Lan er-gongzi is always there at that time on a free day, and I'll do my best to be as well. It'll be pretty easy to get them to spar."

"Su-xiong you're just the best!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, hugging his friend who barely even grumbled against such effusions. “What would I do without you?"

"You'd be less efficient for sure. Now can we talk about something less boring than Lan er-gongzi?”

“Yes, yes! Tell me more about your parents’ haunting, I’ll really listen now! If it’s not a ghost, then what is it?”

Pleased to return to a more fun subject, Su She started discussing his theory about some wild cats and a few squirrels that he suspected to have found their way into the currently disused ‘haunted’ room, and talked about it with such indignation that Nie Huaisang was soon in tears from how hard he laughed.

Although nobody had been warned of the duel to come, a small crowd had quickly assembled around the training grounds once it became understood that Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian were having a friendly fight. They were both reputed to be insanely skilled after all, and rumours about their first duel under the moonlight had spread fast.

So far, Nie Huaisang had to admit that both boy's reputation was deserved. If anything, they were both more talented than he would have expected. They exchanged blows and parried them as if it were easier than breathing, making for a beautiful show. Su She, who stood on Nie Huaisang's right at the very edge of the training grounds, appeared consumed with admiration and envy. He'd fallen silent a while ago, and perhaps regretted this fight he'd helped organise.

On Nie Huaisang's left, Jin Zixuan was almost as upset, just a little better at concealing it.

"I can't believe such talent has been wasted and given to the world's most obnoxious person," he complained as Wei Wuxian dodged a blow.

"Apparently, that's also Lan Wangji’s opinion," Nie Huaisang cheerfully replied. "But I think he's warming up to Wei-xiong now."

Lan Wangji, after a moment of surprise at the way Wei Wuxian had avoided his attack, lunged at him again with renewed vigour.

"Yes, I can see they're on their way to becoming best friends," Jin Zixuan sneered. "Well, that's getting boring. I was hoping to see Wei Wuxian put in his place, but now he's just going to be more insufferable. I'll see you later, Nie gongzi."

He left, but the spot next to Nie Huaisang didn't remain empty for very long. Lan Xichen quickly made his way there. Nie Huaisang immediately smiled at him, but unlike the rest of them, Lan Xichen didn't appear to pleased by the show.

"Huaisang what's going on here?" he asked. "What are they fighting about? Did something happen?"

"Oh they're just fighting for the sake of it!" Nie Huaisang cheerfully explained, only for Lan Xichen to look even more distressed.

"Wangji got into a fight without reason? How?"

Alerted by his tone, Su She tore his eyes from the fight and gave Lan Xichen a quick bow.

"Lan gongzi needs not worry. They're not actually fighting, this is only a friendly spar."

"Yes, we thought it'd be good for them, so we made it happen," Nie Huaisang confirmed. “I think it’s going great! Wei-xiong looks like he’s having the time of his life!”

Reassured that no rules were broken and no serious harm was intended by either party, Lan Xichen finally properly looked at the ongoing duel. He observed the two fighters for a moment before eventually nodding.

“Wangji too is enjoying this,” he said after some consideration. “I’m glad for him. It is so rare for him to get an opponent of his level. Other juniors are rarely a match, and adults won’t spar with him because they don’t want to lose to someone so young. You had a good idea, Huaisang.”

“Oh, that wasn’t even my idea,” Nie Huaisang replied, beaming. “It was Su-xiong who suggested it, and who asked to see them spar.”

Lan Xichen turned his attention to Su She, who appeared a little uncomfortable. Nie Huaisang realised, a little late, that scheming to make people fight, even in a friendly manner, was probably against some of Gusu Lan rules.

“I am glad you have such a good friend helping you set your plan in motion,” Lan Xichen said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Still, don’t drag him into too much mischief. I would be very disappointed in you, Huaisang, if you caused Su-shidi to get in trouble. He’s worked so hard to prove himself to our teachers, let’s not ruin his efforts just because you like to have a little too much fun.”

“Of course not!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed. “Su-xiong, you wouldn’t let me cause you real problems, right?”

“I only agree with Nie gongzi’s ideas if they don’t contradict the rules,” Su She confirmed, bowing again toward Lan Xichen. “And I wouldn’t let Nie gongzi do anything dangerous or ill-advised. Lan gongzi can be at peace, I won’t let anything happen to his friend.”

Lan Xichen smiled stiffly.

"I know I can trust Su-shidi to take good care of Nie gongzi. I am… quite happy to leave him in your hands, where I know he'll be safe."

It was a rather odd way to say that, and there was something a little too cold in Lan Xichen’s tone which did not quite please Nie Huaisang. But Su She himself seemed unbothered, so this might just have been Nie Huaisang imagining things. It was probably just that Lan Xichen still remained doubtful regarding Lan Wangji’s potential friendship with Wei Wuxian, which had to affect his mood.

But things really were going quite well. In fact, they were going much better than Nie Huaisang had hoped. After fighting a little more, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian eventually stopped when a Lan teacher approached them to explain that he needed the training grounds for his own class. There didn’t appear to be a clear winner between them, as far as Nie Huaisang could say. Later, when he asked Su She, his friend gave his more expert opinion that although they had completely different fighting styles, they were equals in strength and capacity. It would be interesting, he said, to see them fight side by side instead of against each other.

For now though, they politely bowed to each other, and Wei Wuxian, grinning more brightly than Nie Huaisang had ever seen him yet, asked if they might train together again in the future.

It was quite funny to see Lan Wangji’s conflicted expression. On one hand, Wei Wuxian was nearly a criminal in his eyes, who had disrespected his uncle, broken many rules, and cheated during an exam, all of which was unforgivable and marked Wei Wuxian as beneath his consideration. But at the same time, this looked to have been a very fun sparring session, Lan Wangji had been forced to use all his skill to keep up with his opponent, and that was something too precious to be easily dismissed.

At a loss, Lan Wangji turned to look at his brother, hoping for guidance. Lan Xichen, in turn, only briefly glanced at Nie Huaisang before nodding at his brother with an encouraging smile.

“Behave in class,” Lan Wangji ordered with a slight frown, before turning away.

Wei Wuxian looked disappointed by what he must have mistaken for rejection, but Nie Huaisang saw that answer for what it was and ran to his friend to explain that Lan Wangji had, in fact, very warmly agreed to fight him again.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #double time travel #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes

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kattwritesuwu · 3 years

Note

Can I request a Clingy!monsterTom x Depressed!Reader? Maybe with cutting and suicidal thoughts?

I sure can!!! I LOVE angst!!!!!

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Fandom: Eddsworld

Character: Tom

Reader: Depressed

Fic type: Comfort/angst

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING: This WILL heavily mention suic/de, blood, and perhaps other triggering topics, read at your own risk!!

Notes: People, I'm not trying to make depression and similar illness romantic, this is simply for comfort.

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I hate everything.

Well, not everything, but the majority, y'know? Everything just...sucks. Life in general, it's all terrible.

People are terrible. Sure, I've found a few choice people that aren't the bane of my existence, but even they have their flaws.

Am I saying that I'm some heaven sent angel? Hell no I'm not. I'm just as terrible if not more! I hate everyone, including myself.

Am I lying? Yeah. Do I have a crush on someone? Yeah. Am I gonna do something about it? Nope.

Why should I? It's not like I'll be here longer anyways...

I'm planning to kill myself.

Am I scared? Kind of. But at this point I don't care. I'm always scared anyways. Always on my guard around people.

Most people don't know the fear and pain of constantly feeling...numb.

It's not like I never feel anything, it's just so rare. My most common emotion is pain. I just want to curl up in a ball and die. But all I can ever being myself to do is cry, and even that's a rare occurrence at this point.

I feel so alone.

Friends? Yeah I have a few.... they're all a bit odd in their own way. Can't complain though, they're like family to me.

My real family? Not many immediate ones, plus, I moved to England five years ago. They called me everyday for the first couple of months. Nowadays, I can barely get a text back... I get that they have their own lives in their respective country, but man, it just makes me so cold-feeling...

I guess where I was going with this, is that I'm scared. Not of my inevitable death, but everything else.

I'm scared of anything and everything now that I think about it. I don't exactly mean common fears they talk about in elementary school, I'm talking real world problems.

I'm scared of failure, not sure why. I've failed enough in my life....it shouldn't even faze me at this point.

Im especially scared of people.

My friends? Yeah them too. What if I make a fool of myself and they think I'm an idiot? What if I make the wrong move, and they hate me? They probably hate me enough as it is...

That why I won't confess to Tom. He'll hate me afterwards. There's just no point in ruining something for nothing in return.

These were the thoughts that ran through my head as my arms and legs were sliced up by a blade driven by my own hands. It's wasn't like it hurt. All it really did was sting, I'm just that used to being hurt, I suppose.

As I was wrapping up my little 'session' I heard a knock on my door,

"(Y/N)! You in there? It's dinner time! I made breakfast for dinner!" A British accent leaked through my door.

I didn't scramble around at the thought of him walking in, my door was locked after all. It's not like I'm that stupid.

" I'll be there in a few minutes, Edd." I spoke back in a raspy voice, not bothering to yell. Edd has good ears, he can somehow hear a whisper from across the house.

It takes me a minute or two to get up and walk into the bathroom that connects to my room. I stumble a bit with the loss of blood.

Once I get in there I take a quick shower, just barely long enough to stop the bleeding and make it appear as if you just took an actual shower.

Once I get out of the shower, I slip on my (favorite color) hoodie.

That was an easy part of hiding my self abuse. Everyone in the house wore a hoodie of their own designated color.

I also slipped on a longer article of clothing to go onto my legs. Couldn't let them see my thighs either.

Once I finished the rest of my cleaning up, I headed out of my little bathroom, and in front of my door. I took a deep breath, put on a smile, and walked out.

I got about halfway down the stairs before a screech startled me, causing me to trip a bit,

" (Y/N) IS HERE! YAY!" The high pitch British scream could only belong to the narcissistic ginger known as Matt.

Once I got my balance back into my feet, I continued down the stairs and greeted Matt with a wave.

" Yeah she lives here, idiot. She's not going anywhere." A deeper voice had spoken, I turned around and Tom was there as expected. I smile shrunk a bit at his last comment.

" Sup (y/n)." You snapped out of your thoughts and responded with a casual 'yo.'

The three of us then heard a thick accent cursing in the kitchen, no doubt it was Tord,

" For jævla skyld! Just let me have the last piece!!"

Sure enough, when we walked into the kitchen, Edd and Tord were fighting over the last piece of bacon. I let out a sigh, and the two boys finally acknowledged our existence. That alone didn't stop their argument though.

I didn't even bother attempting to break up the fight, I never could anyways. Their little fuss always ends one of two ways. Edd steals the bacon from under Tord's nose, or vise versa.

I just grabbed a small portion of food, and sat down.

I knew I would be gone by the end of tonight...but I wanted to taste Edd's cooking one last time.

Something interesting happened, instead of one of the two boys getting the bacon, they halved it and sat down. Of all my four years living in this house with these people, they've never shared their bacon.

Strange.

Dinner wasn't as talkative as it usually was when we all ate at the table. Usually we'd all have a big group discussion about our day, or week. Tonight was quiet, giving me an opportunity,

" Hey, guys?" Each one of their heads turned to me, and Edd signalled me to continue,

" I just wanted to say, thank you." Their brows furrowed but I held out a hand to tell them to let me finish,

" You four have helped me with so much over the past few years. From when you let me live here when I couldn't find proper housing situations, to letting me borrow the car. I just wanted to formally tell you all how grateful I really am. You are truly the kindest people I've ever met." As I went on talking, I realized how bad of an idea this actually was.

I mean, will they get suspicious? I'm just showing gratitude right? It shouldn't sound like a cry for help or anything...

As I snapped out of thought for the fiftieth time today, I notice that all of the boys have some type of smile on their face, even Tom!

Edd was smiling like a proud mother,

Matt was smiling giddily,

Tord had a smug, 'cool guy' smile,

And Tom had the smallest smile that made my heart melt.

I awkwardly continued my fake smile, and sat down.

Conversation continued on as would on a normal night, with the topic being past pleasant memories.

I volunteered to wash the dishes, it was the least I could do. There was only one problem. For some ungodly reason, Tom had insisted on helping me.

I couldn't figure out why at first, untill it dawned on me that he probably needed something from me.

So as I scrubbed the forgetten food off of the ceramic plate, he rinsed and dried them. We did this in silence, aside from the running water. Tom's the first one to break the tension filled silence,

" So, how have you been?" It was such a simple question, I could have simply faked a toothy grin, and said that I was great. I could have thanked him for asking. I could have asked him back.

But I only did one of those things.

" I've been doing just as good as I always do." I reply with a small sad smile. I tear my eyes away from the dish water," How about you? You've been awfully quiet tonight."

He chuckles lowly," Just had a lot on my mind, trying to face some of my problems, that's all." I stop what I'm doing and look over at him,

" Do you want to talk about it? I think the others are asleep already."

Normally when Tom is having any type of problem, he comes to me for advice, or even just for someone to listen to him rant when he's drunk. I even gave him a spare key to my room if he ever needs me while I'm asleep. He's offered the same for me, but I told him that I have a counselor. I try not to lie to my housemates all the time, only when necessary.

He simply shakes his head in response," Nah, this is one I have to deal with on my own," I sigh,

" Alright then, but keep my offer in mind. Just try to remember to see me before I go to bed, I'm...going to bed early tonight. I have something to do tommorow." He nods in understanding.

After we finish the dishes, we say our goodnights,

" I'll see you in the morning, (y/n)." I give one last fake smile,

" Same to you, Tom. Sleep well." I see him nod and walk down the hall as I close my door and lock it for the final time.

I walk into my bathroom and look into the mirror. All I see is a monstrosity of a person glaring back at me.

The bags under my eyes had only gotten worse after the sleepless nights I spent writing my suicide note.

I decided to skip reading over it one last time, I want nothing that could alter my decision at hand here. If I read my dying love letter that's written to Tom, I might stop myself in some kind of silly hope that everything could be okay again. It was too late for all that now.

So, I grabbed my blade that had served me well over the years, and stepped into the bathtub. I didn't cry, I didn't shake in fear of what I was about to do. I sadly smiled instead. As I took my hoodie off, revealing a tank top that no one knew I owned. I set my hoodie softly onto the floor, and turned on the hot water.

I took a deep breath in, and sigh, grabbing my blade and getting to work on my first artery. It took me a couple tries to find it.

But once I did, it started the red tint in the once clear bath water. I took in a shaky breath, adjusting to the dizziness of loosing so much blood so quickly.

At this point I couldn't even hear the bathwater running, everything was muffled.

I reached to turn it off, and a hand was placed onto mine. It takes me a good second to register that there was someone next to the tub, yelling my name right next to my face.

I try my best to focus on who could have caught me. Yet it's so difficult to take in my surroundings at this point.

So as I stare at the person beside my bathtub with fading eyes. I feel pressure on my wound, and see something being wrapped around it.

I start panicking, trying to say no, to let me die.

But I just can't. I just watch as my life is saved against my will.

Suddenly I can see that I'm moving, I can't figure out how until I notice the arms carrying me bridal style to a soft surface. That's when I lost consciousness for the next hour.

I didn't exactly 'wake up' more like fazed into existence. It's like I just gradually became aware of what was around me.

I became aware of the sobs coming from my bedside, and of the pressure squeezing my hand.

I forced my eyes open and tried to sit up. Yet I instantly regretted my decision, pain shot throughout my body. I glance over to my hand and up the....purple arm....

Who is this? Or perhaps I should say, what is this?

It's some kind of...monster? Hybrid? It looked kind of human... I could only see the torso and up. Even then, the arms grew bigger the farther down the arms stretched, and turned a deeper and deeper shade of purple. Horns poked out of the head laying slightly onto my shin, poking me a bit.

" Am-" I hold my throat. That hurt. I clear my throat of the mucus and start again as the unknown monster wakes up,

" Am I dead?"

The monsters head shoots up, and I can't help but recognize the 'eyes' that I've grown to love.

" T-Tom..."

He tries to smile for me, but it twists into a sad frown as his black orbs start to water,

" (Y/n)....(y/n) you're...y-you're okay! You're okay..." He said this over and over again as he cupped my cheeks with his transformed hands.

I grab onto his forearm to steady his shaking. This was starting to scare me.

I had never seen this man shed a tear in front of me, yet alone bawl into my shoulder like he was doing now,

" Tom, it's okay, I'm right here." I whispered this, and many other reassurances into his ear. Confirming to him that it was going to be okay and that, to my displeasure, I wasn't going anywhere.

He seemed to get angry after a few minutes, he ripped himself away from me and took hold of my shoulders,

" WHAT IF YOU WEREN'T RIGHT HERE? WHAT IF I HADN'T OF WALKED IN!! WHAT THEN HUH? YOU WOULDN'T BE RIGHT HERE!!! YOU'D BE GONE!! I would have...lost you..." He slid down the side of my bed as he finished his outburst. He sat crying into his knees.

I didn't know what to do. Is he mad at me? But despite the questions, I acted without thinking.

I began to run my fingers through his hair, almost brushing it. He seemed surprised at first, before he leaned into my touch.

" I'm sorry Tom. I didn't think it would effect you like this..." All was silent for a few moments. Until,

" Why..?" He sniffled a few times before I could respond.

" Why? Why what?" He looked up to me,

" Why would you try to leave me?" I couldn't even bring myself to say anything after that. Tom seemed to sense the frog in my throat, and continued,

" You don't realize, (y/n). You don't realize how special you are. To your family, your friends. I mean bloody hell (y/n)! What about us?! Edd would be heartbroken! And how are we supposed to explain something like that to Matt?" I avoided the possible eye contact and twidled my thumbs in my lap,

" What about me (y/n)? How am I supposed to go on living with myself if you, the love of my life, killed herself?" My mind went blank. He took my hand in between both of his,

" I know this isn't the greatest time for this, but if it'll boost your self esteem even a little bit, I don't care about embarrassing myself. (Y/n) (L/n), I am deeply in love with you, and have been since you moved in. I've loved you since you helped me to bed when I came in drunk all those years ago. I've loved you since you beat my Pac-Man score at the arcade, I acted so mad, but you were just so cute so excited like that... (Y/n)... Please let me help you love yourself by loving you..."

By the time he was done with his speech, I was in tears, a small frown on my face. He seemed to get the wrong idea as he instantly dropped my hand and got up,

" I got the message, I'll just uhm... I'll just g-" I grabbed his hoodie strings and pulled him in for a kiss.

We could both tell that there would be many more to come.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm sorry if it's extremely long, I just love to write angst haha...

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suugiithings · 3 years

Text

KATSUKI BAKUGOU X YOU

The image isn't mine credits to the owner.

For some reason, I just write angst. 😅

I hope you like it. I really like Bakugou. I am still reading the manga and I am still in the 17th volume but I am loving his character development.

We can't forget that underneath all of that image of a bad/angry boy is still a teenager and geez we all can agree that teenage days are the worst.

Anyway, I am sorry for my writing skills and probably grammar mistakes but as I said in my work of Kirishima I don't usually write in English so I am trying my best and using dictionaries and even Grammarly to make sure everything is on point but sometimes some mistakes can get through it so I am apologizing beforehand and I will keep improving my English vocabulary to make my writing more interesting.

Words: 1.2k

Warnings: It is Bakugou so swearing is obviously here.

You stopped abruptly as you heard a loud and painful hiss. Your whole body completely froze while watching the state of that blonde guy. The rain wetting all his figure, his hair was even more messy than usual, his hands were sparking a little from his frustration.

I knew it. You told yourself as shutting your e/c eyes aggressively because of the huge pain felt as seeing him in such condition. You knew that he was suffering like you were because even if he didn't tell Kirishima what he meant to him we all knew that Kirishima was someone really important to Bakugou. Thankfully you had enough empathy to realize that seeing Kirishima unconscious on a hospital bed was an overwhelming pain for him as well.

Finally, you got the strength and courage to open your dark blue umbrella and took small and slow steps towards him. Fortunately, he didn't notice your presence as he was drowning in his feelings. Feelings. Something and probably the only thing Bakugou was terrible with. Normally he only ignored them and pushed them deep down in his soul letting them there alone getting bigger and bigger every day. And then one day those neglected pieces of human nature just exploded doing a huge mess. You already had witnessed that happening once and it wasn't something pleasant to see. It made your heart shatter in a million pieces because he went in a total auto-destructive mode and you being in love with him made you feel helpless and lost in the middle of your and his pain.

At last, when you were just mere centimetres from him, your umbrella was already above his head and his hood was pushed to cover not just his head but especially his face. His whole body hardened and you took this opportunity to wrap your free hand around his body while laying your head against his wet clothed back.

" I'm sorry for this random affection but I don't know what to do with this pain. I... I...My heart and soul are in suffering now so please just let me be like this for just a couple of minutes." he didn't say anything but you realize how heavy was his breath. A deep breath came from you while you squished him more trying to let your feelings be silently handed on to your lover. You would never be able to express your feelings so you just wanted him feel them.

"I'm sorry." a heavy and sad whisper came from the blonde as his muscles started to smooth under your touch. "It was my fault." your small hand rubbed the side of his body where your hand was calmly but firmly laying. The reality was you didn't know what really happened you just found Kirishima body laying on Bakugou arms in the middle of the battlefield where a group of villains attacked. Bakugou was frozen by his panic and disbelief the whole time since you found out them until arriving in the hospital.

"Shh...It isn't anybody's fault except those fucking villains." His body hardened again and heat rises from him. Shit. You should have just stayed quiet. He tried to let go of your grip and when he did he looked directly at you. And if it was possible your heartbreak to even smaller pieces. His face was consumed by the pain, sadness and especially the well-known rage. His eyes and face were swollen and red not just because of him being crying but also because of the fight they had against those villains. Small cuts here and there in his body. You tried to reach him but he dodged your touch.

" It was my fault. I was weak and he threw himself in front of me stupidly. I was the one who couldn't protect another human being and lost the fight. It is my fault. So just shut the fuck up with your pity I don't need it for anything. Especially when you were fucking late to help Kirishima. It is also your fault. You are useless. " If you didn't know him you would definitely just turn on your heels and leave but it was Katsuki we were talking about. He was shouting those things not really because he meant but because he was using your name instead of his while in reality, it was just a way to talk his feelings out and to curse at himself and not you. " So don't touch me. Don't try to seek relief because you don't deserve it. You need to drown in those feelings."

Your umbrella fell on the road and your hells rose to let your lips touch his. It was unexpected by both of you. You didn't think this through, it was just a reflection of your inability to comfort Katsuki. However, what shock you the most was his strong arms unexpectly wrapped your waist tightly pulling you so closer to him that both bodys almost fused in to each other and then his lips started a rough and intense kiss. All feelings getting involved at this moment. You could taste the bitterness of failure, the sourness of sadness and deep down a really shy sweetness of the untold love.

You both were already gasping for air but none of you wanted to let go. Your lungs were burning, your hearts racing and your legs trembling.

However very abruptly everything stopped including the feeling of his touch on your now wet body from the rain.

" What the fuck was that for?" the blonde screamed very loud when he came into his senses. His eyes were confused and full of anger. You stood in your place unshakable, you were already prepared for this.

" Nothing, Katsuki. It was nothing." you sighed in annoyance." What the hell do you think it is? I am tired of this." You screamed back at him and he was shocked. Yes, you had already had some fights but for silly things especially because you loved to make fun of him and tease him but never for serious topics and never with this look on your face." I think this kiss made pretty clear what's going on between us. I am fucking tired of watching you suffer in silence. I hate that so much. My heart breaks every time you self-isolate yourself. Maybe I am being egotistic but I just want you to be happy, goddammit. " His gaze was burning your skin of how intense it was. For the first time, you didn't know what he was feeling. Yes, because even though he puts his mask of an angry and though guy, he was actually a pretty simple person underneath that. He was just trying his best to improve himself and raise at the top and someone who lack a lot on self love.

" I didn't ask for anything. And there is no us here. I don't love you. Love is just stupid and a waste of time." he muttered finally taking his gaze away from you. "I don't want to love you while I don't love myself."

" Shh... I don't need to be corresponded I just want you to let me help you." You wrapped your arms again around him squishing him so hard as you could. " Just enjoy my company and let me be your walking diary. Allow me to hear your rants and fears."

#bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha #mha #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo #bakugou angst #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou x you #Bakugou angst #Angst

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caffeinated-cryptid · 4 years

Text

you got an ego so big (it'll eat you alive).

roman-centric hurt/comfort (w/ remus, patton and virgil).

11.7k words | AO3 link | warnings: self-hatred, semi-intentional self-destruction, various injuries, arguing, remus-typical jokes and topics.

“At the best of times, Roman’s job was a tightrope act between maintaining a healthy amount of self-confidence and the ability to adapt and take criticism. Throughout his life he walks this line many times, always with the expectation that if he were to fall one way or the other, no one would be there to catch him.

But sometimes when you’re up miles high, it can become difficult to see the safety net on the ground below you.

(aka an expansion on the premise that a bruised ego causes literal injuries and the issues this could cause when you're an insecure prince with a need to please and the weight of the world on your shoulders).”

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

To be overly aware of your own self is often associated with negative traits, such as narcissism, self-consciousness or a sensitivity to mistakes. Although to some with a proclivity towards the spotlight, it can become an inadvertent consequence of over-analyzing yourself in order to achieve those flawless performances. Naturally, gaining any sort of notoriety and attempting to retain that positive image means becoming intimately aware of your faults and staying open to change, taking criticism to heart all the while keeping relatably humble. On the other hand, it may also mean letting that same criticism become your one sole focus, tearing you down instead of becoming a rung in the ladder that's supposed to take you to higher places.

Roman often found that navigating these gray areas was a momentous task. To be proud of his work, but not be too unbearably egotistical to the point that it blinded him. To accept criticism but not allow the pursuit of perfection to destroy him.

His role was truly a balance; a thin tightrope he constantly had to traverse.

And on occasion, he would end up slipping.

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

I - bonds that tie us.

Roman first learned of his job as the ego when Thomas was young. With Remus at the helm of most of the subconscious and instinctual stuff as his id, perhaps he should've assumed that he would have a similar mirrored purpose beyond simply confidence, however it hadn't ever really come into play until one afternoon when the two of them were busy playing in The Imagination.

They had just concluded a close duel against each other and were putting their weapons away (cardboard ones, since Feelings didn't want them running around with real weapons once he found out they were using them to fight, and because Fear and Lies often fretted about them doing something stupid and getting hurt). Usually neither of them held the lead for long during their matches since they were so well-matched, but today Remus had won easily, which Roman chalked up to him feeling off ("Yeah right. Don't be such a sore loser." "It's true!"). Either way, Remus would be bragging about the victory until the next time they got the opportunity to duel, and that meant he was already rubbing it in as they prepared to leave.

On their way to the exit, Remus had taken the lead at some point and was throwing out ideas about they should do later when Roman unexpectedly paused and doubled over, clutching his head. Remus didn't notice that he'd stopped until he heard a groan and turned around.

"What's wrong? Didn't hit you too hard, did I?" He asked with a grin as if he assumed that Roman was still playing- perhaps trying to make up an excuse for his terrible loss.

"I- Dunno. My head hurts…" Roman cringed, eyes screwed shut.

Remus' smile faltered when he realized it might not be a joke and he walked back, peeling Romans hands away from his forehead. Underneath was a large red patch of irritated skin which looked set to bruise. His frown deepened because he definitely didn't cause that, nor did he witness any incidents during the day which would be the cause. "How'd that happen?

"Dunno!" He repeated, eyes going blank for a moment while he caught up with what was happening outside. The two of them were usually much too distracted when they were in The Imagination to pay attention to everything that transpired in the real world, especially on weekdays like this when Thomas would be in school and Creativity wasn't exactly needed during most classes. "...Thomas was told off for slacking in front of the entire class and he got some bad grades on his report card… He's feeling embarrassed, I think.

Remus was confused by how this was relevant until he pieced together that the two events were linked to what was happening to his brother. His eyes widened in realization before they settled into determination. "Then I'll fight him until he stops feeling bad."

That startled a laugh out of Roman, until his head started pounding and he cut himself off with a grimace. "...’Can't do that."

He laughed too, in hopes that it would lift Roman's spirits again. "Can too! I'll figure it out, then he'll be too busy worrying about his broken bones to care about what some dumb teacher said. Maybe then he'll get to skip school for a while and do something funner like-"

"Remus." Roman hissed over him, overcome with a sudden dizzy spell. His hand found Remus’ shoulder for purchase, which stopped his twin in his rant.

Remus stared at him in alarm. This seemed serious, and he didn't do too well with handling serious things. "Do... Do you want me to get Feelings? Or Learning? Or Lies?"

"No. None of them. I just wanna go home." He whined, leaning more and more against Remus for support.

' Home' in their case was what they called their shared room. It was where they always returned to at the end of a long day, and no matter what had happened, they could always feel their troubles wash away as they sat in their own little world once more. Roman longed for that feeling, to escape the too-bright sun of The Imagination which now felt like it was blinding him and just lay down for a while.

Remus nodded hesitantly, the plans he had spun of pulling a prank on Fear and Lies forgotten. Normally the two Creativities preferred to find the door of The Imagination manually (they claimed it made the experience more immersive when they were out on an adventure), but instead he reached towards the exit and the world twisted around them, ejecting them out together. They came out the other side back in their room, next to their bunk bed. Instead of climbing up to his bed on the top, Roman just about threw himself onto Remus' sheets. Somehow he managed to ignore the weird smell of the fabric that he always complained about, which spoke greatly about his current well-being.

Remus hovered behind him, unsure of what to do, when Roman let out another pained noise and curled up tighter. "What now?!"

"Thomas...parents.

Since that didn't really explain anything, Remus decided to check up on what was happening outside himself. Thomas' parents had asked to see his report card and they were giving him the 'not mad but disappointed talk', while Thomas was shrunk into himself in shame. Yikes, Learning mustn't be feeling too hot about this either. But right now his focus was on his brother, who the sight of in such a sorry state filled him with rage.

"Now I want to fight them too." Remus muttered darkly. "Take the knife from the kitchen that dad uses to cut up turkeys and make them stop talking forever. Then we won't have to deal with this again and you won't-"

Oh right, Roman was still injured. Focus, Remus. Concern. Right, he was concerned for his brother, who was hurting like he had never seen, even after their fights. What could he do about this? He was always so much better at destroying things than fixing them, so having to deal with a situation like this without any sort of guidance made him nervous.

"You can't hurt them." Roman protested weakly.

"Maybe if I want to enough I could!"

Remus walked around the bunk bed and settled down on the side Roman was facing towards. From this angle he could see new bruises spattered along his brother's arms. In a grotesque way, the different shades came together like a watercolour painting. Except instead of a canvas, they were on a body- Remus shook his head. Focus! He could draw sickly yellow and purple-inspired pictures later, when Roman would be in the mood to be more good-humored about it.

"You shouldn't, then. It's bad."

"...Alright then. What should I do Ro-bro?"

Roman cracked open one eye and looked at him. "Stay? Until Thomas feels better?"

Considering he was just grounded for the weekend, Remus wasn't sure how long it would take for this hit to Thomas' self esteem to blow over, but despite knowing this he nodded anyway.

"Okay."

He laid down next to Roman, not commenting when he hid his face against the covers and started sniffling, or when he eventually fell asleep, curled against his side like how they would sleep when they were newly-split. When Learning knocked in their door to tell them that dinner was ready, he made a weak excuse that they were busy and would eat later.

Without even asking he knew Roman would want this to be kept between them, despite how the others would undoubtedly fuss and nurse him back to health. And perhaps that was the reason why. His brother always wanted to appear infallible to the others and did so replicating the heroes from the stories they read, which often meant refusing to admit when he needed help and trying to do everything himself. If you asked Remus, he was trying way too hard to be like the Creativity that came before them, which was silly because they were different now and as they were, they needed each other.

Remus closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep too. This seemed like a big deal, so Roman's pride would have to pass eventually for him to seek help. Right?

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

II - even without dying you're dead to me.

In retrospect, Remus had underestimated Roman’s ability to keep a secret (maybe because he was so quick these days to run over to Feelings, now Morality, whenever Remus did something to upset him. Tattle-tale).

Now that they were older and their roles were more defined, their once shared-room had separated into two to adjust to this change. Even though it had been long enough that he should be used to the feeling of being alone, there were still times where Remus had to try to not let it bother him when he looked up at night, expecting to see the familiar underside of a top bunk and instead only finding the ceiling he had painted an underwater-themed mural on.

On nights like this, far too sentimental to enter a peaceful rest, they would go sleep in each other's rooms, saying nothing as they tried to pretend they were as close as they once were. Remus groaned into his pillow, fighting that annoying urge to seek comfort. He was a teenager now, he didn't want to be so attached at the hip to a side who had started looking at him with disgust and fear instead of the fondness they used to share. Sometimes he couldn't help it though, clinging to the days when everything felt simple and the biggest thing they had to worry about was finding time to create the things they enjoyed. At the very least he was glad that Roman didn't mock him for his occasional bouts of uncharacteristic sentiment; that would solidify for him that there were no remnants of the relationship they once had left.

With that depressing thought, he rolled out of bed. He couldn't sleep tonight so he was going to make that Roman's problem; that always cheered him up. Perhaps if he hadn't made such a disturbed face when Remus had talked about the brazen bull he had made earlier that day, he would feel a bit more sympathy for waking his brother up in the middle of the night. Buuut he didn't and he was feeling petty, so without a second thought he sunk out and into Romans room.

"WAKEY WAKEY~!" Remus clashed two cymbals together like one of those nightmare-inducing wind-up monkeys, only to belatedly realize the bed he was facing was empty.

He blinked, both in confusion and to adjust his eyes to the unexpected light of the room. Both of them may be night owls, but Roman would usually be asleep by 2am at least, and it was way past that hour. Looking around the room, his eyes latched onto the vanity where his brother was sitting, looking incredibly startled from the deafening crash of metal against metal.

"Get out!" He yelled once his shock faded into indignation, glaring at Remus.

Remus didn’t respond, staring at the medical supplies spread across the surface. Roman was in the middle of wrapping a compression bandage around his thigh, which he abandoned as soon as Remus had entered.

"Did you get something stuck in your ear again? I'm not in the mood to deal with you tonight, Remus. Leave ."

"What happened?" He blurted out before he could even think about the question.

"Doesn't matter. In case you've forgotten, the door's right there. Feel free to use it at any point."

Instead of complying (because when had Remus ever done that for anyone? No no, it was always more exciting to do the opposite of what people ask and see what happens), he crossed the room, ignoring how Roman increasingly looked like he wanted to punch him the longer he lingered.

"Bitch, it obviously does matter, otherwise you wouldn't be looking like you got trampled by a cracked-out horse."

"Lovely imagery." Roman gritted out.

"Lovely avoidance." Remus retorted sarcastically. "Aren't you best friends with Morality and Logic now? Why aren't they here sucking your d-"

"If you don't go back to your own room I'll run you through with my sword." Roman warned with an air of finality.

Remus snorted.

It was hard to be intimidated by the same side who had once cried when he had accidentally smashed an imaginary caterpillar cocoon with his morning star. In his defense he had forgotten to make the handle weighted when he first made it, so he was still getting used to the uneven distribution of the weapon...not like that stopped Roman from getting upset with him. Supposedly he had spent the last week trying to raise butterflies and wanted to show them off to Logic after they had learned about chrysalis in class, but Remus found that somewhat laughable considering he could just create a fully-formed butterfly if he wanted to. So he did laugh, calling him dumb for getting upset over nothing, and through tears Roman pushed him to the ground and told him he hated him for the first time. (After that, he may have spent the next week killing any butterflies that crossed his path, but that was neither here nor there. The point of this tangent provided a lá Remus Sander's brain was was that Roman could be a big baby and therefore he couldn't take anything he said too seriously.)

"Sounds like a good time! Save that idea for later though, because if you don't tell me I'll summon them over here to ask them myself."

"Don't. They don't know about this, alright? For once in your life can you just let it go?"

Huh. Remus tilted his head. It had been years since they first found out about the fun little quirk Roman had, and he just...never told? He figured at the very least it would be a good way to milk even more attention from the others; something Creativity had been seeking more often after Fear turned into Anxiety during middle school and gained a much larger role in Thomas' life. "Why?"

Roman huffed in frustration. "They don't need to. I can handle it myself."

"...Wow! Careful not to summon Lies, because you're full of shit and you know it." Remus fired back. He didn't even know why he was getting so mad. Minutes ago he was cursing his brother's guts for how their relationship had soured, and now all of a sudden it was if all of that dislike had faded into the background for something else. Concern? He hadn't felt concern for anything in years. Roman always made it seem like he could take care of himself, so that's what Remus had believed at first too, though perhaps stumbling across this situation was evidence of the opposite. Reasonable self-care didn't exactly look like 'patching yourself up at 4 in the morning'. At least, that sounded like something Lies would say which probably meant it was accurate.

"Ugh- Shut up. I've been doing just fine so far, without you or them, so you can take your fake pity and shove it up your you-know-where."

Remus didn't rise to the opportunity to poke fun at that statement, his mind going blank (and what a strange and unusual feeling that was). The idea that anything could have been hidden from him seemed unthinkable given how they used to tell each other everything. He hadn't even considered that that habit had become one-sided, given how it had never stopped being true for him. "...Roman, what does that mean? Has this been happening a lot?"

"..."

"Why did you never tell me?! This isn't something you can just keep a secret! If you won't say anything I will-

Remus' mouth snapped shut as Roman ejected him from his room. He landed back on his own bed and when he scrambled onto his feet to tried to rise up again, he found that his efforts were blocked. Roman had kicked him out and locked the door behind him. He never did that, no matter how much they fought or annoyed each other. It was the one thing they did that showed they still cared.

Remus trembled with adrenaline and shock. Taking his pillow, he summoned a knife and stabbed it and stabbed it and stabbed it until all of his pent up feelings were gone and there all that was left was the fluff covering his floor.

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

III - interlude.

As it turns out, he'd never get the opportunity to tell, because shortly after that, the newly appointed 'dark sides' were pushed away into their own corner of the mindscape after an explosive argument between the sides (during which Remus tried to ignore how closely Roman stood at Morality's side, sword brandished towards him. He didn't want to think his twin had a hand in their separation, even though it made so much sense).

When he argued about going back with Lies, now Deceit after being appointed the new leader of the unwanted and unloved, he was told through clenched teeth and pained eyes that he shouldn't. Not until Thomas was ready for him. For all of them.

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

IV - to the death of me, i'm just fulfillin' my destiny.

After that, Roman adjusted, and did so alone. Teenage years came with many challenges, ones he didn’t always escape unscathed. Despite the occasional rejection here, an unfortunate setback there, he felt as if he had grown a thicker skin for the trials they faced. Into adulthood he wore his ego like a suit of armor; Thomas was outgoing and likable, so of course it became easier to brush aside random negative experiences as minor blips, things that didn’t represent their worth.

This was challenged somewhat as he began pursuing creative outlets more seriously. This meant more work for Roman in general (Woo! Suck it Logan), but it also came with more opportunities to feel ashamed of a messed-up performance, embarrassed by a note sung wrong, hurt by an ill-intentioned piece of feedback.

So he tried to compensate at times. Sue him. Between the nights he spent nursing his wounds and wondering how to do better next time, perhaps he deserved to be a little self-congratulatory about the shining achievements he won for them. There was a certain safety in placing himself up on that pedestal, so high above that it felt like nobody could ever reach him; that he was above it all. But the reality was that this pedestal, gold-plated as it may be, was founded on an interior of paper mache, one wrong move from away from collapsing and sending him tumbling back down to earth.

It was a good thing that pretending came naturally to Roman. So natural that the fear of falling sometimes didn’t register with him at all.

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

V - the calamitous corollary of being considered.

Except, it may have been too much to expect nobody to ever realize there was something up with him. The fact that the sides had to work closely together alone meant that the excuse of being busy after every troubling experience could only work for so long.

The first one to find out was Patton, because of course it was. Sometimes Roman felt as if Patton wasn’t given enough credit for his intelligence. Even though he could be a tad slow on the uptake on other things, his ability to detect the slightest change in mood and discern how people were feeling could be uncanny at times. Emotions just happened to be Patton's strong suit, and while that was very much appreciated when it came to sharing excitement or talking through a heated problem, it was not so grand when you were trying to get away with hiding something.

The first time he let something slip was a few days after Thomas had been flat-out rejected when asking someone out on a date. It wasn't that big of a blow, considering they had barely known the guy for more than a month, but Roman had been insistent that they throw caution into the wind and give it a shot, sure that he had been receiving signals that proved that this guy felt a similar interest. Turns out, he didn't, and was very-much straight. At least the rejection had been somewhat carried out gently and he didn't seem too put-off about staying friends afterwards. Nonetheless the wound was still fresh, and Thomas kept internally cringing whenever he thought about it, which didn't help matters. Whatever. Roman dealt with the bruises that arose from the incident and dabbed a little foundation on the ones he couldn't hide with clothing. They'd get over it in a matter of weeks.

It was after the awkward feelings had finally begun to settle when it happened. Roman and Patton had been in the kitchen preparing dinner when Thomas received a message on his phone, and when he went to check it, he face-planted on the couch in mortification.

'Hey man, I just remembered that my cousin is coming to town this weekend. He's gay too so I thought you two could go on a blind date if you're still looking. :) Lmk your thoughts.'

Patton frowned upon sensing the sudden wave of embarrassment, pausing to check what had happened. "Well...That's thoughtful of him!" He chuckled, tone trying and failing to be positive. Roman couldn't share the same sentiment.

"Thoughtless is more like it! He wants to set us up with the first gay person he knows? Who's not even in the city? Does he think Thomas has no standards at all?! How dare-" Roman's indignant protests cut off as he felt the skin around his collar grow tender and swell slightly. He let out a slight whimper when he pressed his fingers into the bruise to double check its location. Why now and in such a visible place?! He's going to get Thomas to drop that guy if it's the last thing he does-

"Ro! Are you okay?"

Right. Patton was still here. Don't panic.

"Y-yeah! I just remembered an injury I sustained earlier. But not to worry, 'tis but a flesh wound!" He joked.

"A flesh wound?!" Patton cried, reference flying over his head. "Let me see."

Gently, Patton moved his head upwards to get a better look at the bruise. It mustn't look good, because Patton, squeamish as he was, grimaced on sight.

"How on earth did that happen? I don't remember that being there just now."

"Uh." Come on Creative skills, work your magic. "A stray whomping willow in The Imagination? You know how they can be. I suppose it merely took a while to develop, bruises can be funny like that."

Luckily it seemed to work, because Patton sighed. "I thought you got rid of them all after that time one almost threw Logan into a lake. Did Remus make more?"

Heh. Good times. That was a slight lie on his behalf when he had told the others he had gotten rid of the trees; he had kept a few of them around because they were once a gift from Remus to quote 'spice up his boring forests'. Not for any sentimental reasons, of course, but because he thought it was funny and it kept him on his toes. "I guess."

Patton made a small 'tsk' noise, mouth still drawn in a frown but he didn't comment further. "Come on, I'll help you treat that. Does it hurt?"

"Of course not." He smiled. "Do you really think I could be bested by a mere tree?"

"Never! I do wish you were more careful when you go on your little adventures, though. It makes me awfully sad to think about you in 'pine'."

Roman knew it had been a flimsy excuse and even though Patton seemed to accept it, there was a hesitation in his eye which spoke of hidden disbelief. After some first aid and many more tree-related puns later, they went back to cooking, finishing up 30 minutes later. When Logan came down to dinner, immediately questioning the bandages around Roman's neck, he repeated the fake story, distracting him with a request not to go into The Imagination with the whomping willow around and packaging the thinly-veiled jab at the way Logan had once freaked out when he was swung around by the semi-sentient tree as a warning. Logan's concern quickly faded and he shot back a sharp retaliation that Roman didn't care to remember. He just laughed, feeling as light as a kite with the crisis averted.

The next time didn't go over as gracefully.

Thomas had found a different partner eventually, one that wasn't some friend's cousin. They dated for months, and just when he had been thinking about inviting his boyfriend to move in so he could be closer to his workplace, he'd been broken up with. On Valentines Day of all days. There was no better way of putting it; they had planned to go out to dinner, managing to book a table at a fairly classy restaurant, exchanged gifts, and near the end of the night his boyfriend had leaned across the table with a sad smile, thanking him for the evening before admitting he didn't see them working out anymore. He said it quietly, as to not cause a scene among the other diners, but that didn't stop Thomas from immediately bursting into tears. The scene had caused his (now ex) boyfriend to leave early after paying his half of the bill. At least the waitress had taken pity on him and brought over more complimentary bread rolls (which he took because he was not a complete fool, heartbroken as he may be), though even that didn't stop the confusion and embarrassment of it all.

As expected, the whole incident caused nothing but chaos; the right-brain sides were devastated, Anxiety was in a state of panic, and Logic had been metaphorically thrown out the window. As Thomas made his way home, they were at a complete loss for what to do. They had started the day, hoping to take a step forward in their relationship, and ended up with nothing at all. What worse is that they didn't even have a clear idea why (admittedly, that could have been due to, as mentioned before, the inconsolable crying).

It seemed like the most sensible thing to do at the moment was to throw the Valentines gifts away and gorge on the ice-cream that had been sitting in the back of the freezer for who-knows how long while watching a comfort show and trying to forget the whole evening. So that's what they did. As Logan tried to sort through what happened and rationalize what to do next, Patton wallowed in his misery as he dealt with the giant mix of feelings Thomas was going through.

After a few hours working through the brunt of it, enough to where his mind began wandering elsewhere, Patton realized with a start that he hadn't seen Roman since the start of the evening. He must have been so devastated too! Patton recalled how excited he was about the day ahead of them, how he spun fantasies of Thomas' boyfriend accepting the proposal to move in and then the future proposals that could come after that-

Patton mournfully sobbed. He needed to stop thinking about this, or else Thomas could start spiraling again. The best thing to do right now was distract himself, and to do that he should go check on Roman. Perhaps they could talk and have a mutual catharsis over the whole thing. Or better yet, he could put his energy towards someone else and he won't have to fall back into the thoughts that had been clouding his mind ever since they had left that stupid restaurant.

Splashing some water on his face to clear up some of the blotchy-ness, he left his room and crossed the hallway towards Roman's. He couldn't hear any noise coming from inside, so he tentatively knocked. "Kiddo?"

For a few moments there was silence, and Patton almost turned away, assuming that Roman might be blowing off some steam in The Imagination, until a voice cleared inside the room and answered. "Pat? What do you want?"

Patton was taken aback for a second, not expecting such a straight-forward answer. It almost sounded like Roman wasn't upset at all, but Patton sincerely doubted that to be true. His tone was almost too normal, and for anybody else he wouldn't have questioned it, but the lack of dramatics or flowery language was always a clear red flag for the Creative side. "I wanted to check on you since um- You-Know-Who took 'dine and dash' a tad too seriously." He chuckled humorlessly. "...Can I come in?"

There was some shuffling and muffled curses. "Why? I'm fine. Worry about yourself."

"'Why?'" He repeated, eyeing the door warily. "I'm concerned! I haven't seen you in hours and I- I know you must be upset about this too. Can we please talk?"

"I'm not exactly my most princely presentable self right now. Anyway, it's late. Surely this can wait until tomorrow?"

Patton looked down at himself. Instead of his usual garb, he had thrown on some more comfortable clothes hours ago, and they were currently crumpled from laying in bed, sobbing his eyes out. "I'm hardly my best-self either right now, Kiddo-" Before he could go on a spiel about how it was best to not bottle up emotions when they're fresh (and ignoring the hypocrisy of that sentiment), he heard a thump on the other side of the door followed by a quiet hiss of pain. Patton began to panic, and his hand flew to the handle. "I'm coming in!"

Before the other side could even consider protesting, Patton flung the fortunately unlocked door open and stepped into the room, gasping at the sight he was met with. Roman was on the floor, wincing as he clutched his leg. Although he was still dressed in his usual outfit, there were enough injuries on his visible skin that Patton could only wonder how far they went. He covered his mouth and stared in horror as Roman turned to look at him nervously.

"What- How did this happen?!"

Roman licked his dry lips, eyes darting away as he searched for an excuse. "I- The Imagination- This is from earlier-"

"You told me this morning you were going to spend the day helping Thomas write a love letter." Patton said, voice strained with panic and disbelief. "Tell me the truth, please."

Shoot, he had announced his plans earlier that day, hadn't he? He internally cursed his inability to keep his mouth shut, before lowering his head in defeat. "Can you keep a secret, Pat?"

Said side shifted uncomfortably, but his tone was resolute when he nodded. "If it means you'll let me help with whatever this is."

"Okay..." Roman inhaled. "Okay."

And then he explained. Or rather, gave a shortened version of the truth which was less likely to give Patton a complete heart-attack: that bruised egos were something he experienced, but it was never this bad (true) or all that common (also true), and that they weren't something to worry about because he could usually take care of them himself (technically true). By the time he had finished, Patton still looked concerned, but had become less frantic with the information.

"You'll let me help in the future if you need it, right?" He asked, so close to shedding tears that Roman had trouble keeping eye-contact without becoming choked up with guilt.

"If I need it." He agreed.

Finally, Patton smiled, and went to fetch the first-aid kit hastily. As he helped patch him up for the second time that year, the look in Patton's eyes was so pained that Roman vowed to let him see this side of him as little as possible.

For a while, he kept true to this promise to himself, and on the occasions when Patton would drop by to check if everything was alright, if Roman had encountered any bruised egos since, he relished in the relief on his face whenever he would lie and said he hadn't. Distantly he wondered sometimes if this was how heroes were supposed to feel; protecting people by letting them live in blissful ignorance and bearing the burden of the ugly truth alone.

(It was thoughts like that that kept him going.)

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

VI - high highs and low lows.

And then came the videos. Youtube had been an excellent ego-boost for Roman. Similar to how life-changing Vine was, the instant gratification of likes and feedback and people liking what they made was enough to send him over the moon, and oftentimes it was able to ward away the downsides that came with it too; the stress of staying relevant, the occasional hate comment, the portion of dislikes that didn't explain what about the video was dislike-worthy-

Overall it seemed like a great idea, especially when the sides became involved. It gave them all the chance to gain their own spotlights, which most of them appreciated. Sometimes this wasn't always so good though. With the videos came more introspection than usual, which meant deeply examining each problem to try to find some kind of moral. And right now, Roman didn't want to do any sort of thinking exercise about how badly he messed up. At this point in their career, a simple audition should have been a cake walk, instead it was an ache walk...Okay, admittedly he wasn't on his best game right now. The point was, he had potentially thrown the whole audition by forgetting something so simple as the lyrics, and now the casting director would definitely only remember Thomas by the way he froze under pressure, which wasn't exactly an appealing trait in somebody looking to go up on stage where the pressure was set to 100.

After everything was said and done, Roman had no choice but to approach Patton for help. In his current state, he was much too dizzy on his feet to even contemplate showing up and trying to play it off cool, which would've been an laughable endeavor anyhow considering how outwardly embarrassed Thomas was. Betrayal from his own-- well. It was a bit too harsh to blame his current predicament on Thomas, after all the fact of the matter was that it was Roman’s fault for not being better prepared.

Anyway, that's how he ended up in his current position, being swaddled in a too-warm bed, injuries patched up and having soup spoon-fed into his mouth. The whole thing felt...strange. Usually during times like this he would be grinning and bearing it, the inner satisfaction he got from fooling everyone with his performance pushing him through the day, but he supposed this was unavoidable. It was better that only one side had to see part of the problem rather than exposing it to everyone, and out of all of them, at least it was Patton. It still didn't sit well that his secret was now out in the open, a throwaway joke to be used before moving along, but hopefully that would play to his favor and they'd view it as his usual dramatics. Not like he preferred to be seen as too incompetent to care for himself, even if it fit with his persona. He supposed it just went without saying that princes are supposed to have someone at their every beck and call, they're supposed to be indulgent and spoiled and ridiculous. But princes were also supposed to be leaders, someone who was caring and brave and ready to face any challenge.

Roman sighed, a wave of self-loathing washing over him. He didn't feel very princely at all right now.

“Kiddo, are you doing okay? Does something hurt? Is the soup too hot?” Patton asked, eyebrows drawing together in concern. He was such an open book when it came to the other sides, which meant that Roman knew exactly when he had worried or panicked the fatherly figure. Honestly, it only made him feel worse. Being doted over seemed like a good idea until it meant being the subject of pity and other people’s hurt.

“No no, I’m fine Padre. It’s fine. I was just taking a trip into thought city for a second there.” He cracked a smile, trying to ignore how the bruise at the corner of his mouth pulled at the motion. If only he could think of a more original nickname, perhaps that would be more convincing. He was simply drawing blanks today it seemed. “What do you think the others are up to right now? I’d bet 5 bucks Logan is losing his mind having to deal with Anxiety alone.”

Patton didn’t look entirely convinced, but the sudden change of subject encouraged him to stop any further questioning.

In the end they talked until the others had finished filming. Whatever happened during the discussion must have helped Thomas grow past his feelings, because one-by-one the injuries on Roman's body grew smaller until they had faded entirely. Seeing this, Patton noticeably livened up again, and he cheerily declared that he would take the empty bowl back to the kitchen and check in with the others.

As soon as he was gone, Roman’s face dropped, tired from all the smiling he had been doing, and he slid down further into the sheets. Perhaps he should consider himself fortunate that the others had helped out, but all he could think about was how they now knew about his biggest weakness and how embarrassing that was. Logan and Anxiety were the last two sides he wanted finding out about this, if not for their often-tumultuous relationships, but because they'd never fully understand. Neither of them were as dependent on validation as much as he was. Despite what others thought about them, they would just keep on going, meanwhile Roman couldn't truly thrive without some kind of feedback; he was too shackled to expectations and the need to please for that sort of self-indulgence, it was practically written in his existence. It simply wasn't enough for him to be great, he needed to be great and be appreciated. Without that, he felt as if he would burn out, like a candle who's supply of oxygen had been cut off, leaving only smoke and the charred wick behind as a reminder of the fire that was once there. And sometimes that made him feel pathetic, that so much of his esteem depended on what people thought of him. Other times it just made him envy the others who had no one to please but Thomas himself and what he deemed important.

...He was tired, but he needed to keep going. The least he could do was keep up the image of egotism so that those horrid thoughts of being lesser weren't picked up by the others. If they started thinking of him the way he thought about himself (if they didn't already), he wouldn't know what he'd do. He wouldn't stand to be pitied or mocked or anything that validated what he already knew about himself. He just wouldn't.

Rolling out of bed, he practiced his smile in the mirror, fixed his clothes, and sunk out to make his grand appearance.

He couldn’t let this happen again at all costs.

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

VII - an agreeable sort of self-destruction.

More and more often, Roman was glad that he and Remus didn't share a room anymore. From the nights he hunched over scraps of ideas and worked without distraction until the sun was on the horizon, to the days he woke up with tears clinging to his lashes and breath coming out in labored pants, until he realizes the dream about him messing up so badly that he's split apart a second time was merely a cruel trick of his mind.

Currently, there was no greater time to be grateful for their separation than the moment he hastily returned back to safety after Remus' debut to Thomas. If only his brother could see the way he paced back and forth and tugged at his hair, he was sure his other half would merely gloat and poke away at his wounds instead of doing anything to help. Or worse, use it as ammunition in front of the other sides as some sort of proof of his imperfection.

Speaking of, the video was disastrous. He had been out-cold the entire time so he had no idea what was said and had no way of directing the conversation at all, which was possibly the most aggravating part of the whole situation. Beyond that, there was so much that Remus could have told the others without his knowledge. Once upon a time, the two of them were two peas in a pod, and that meant they knew an unnameable amount of secrets about each other. (Like how Remus always used to sleep with this crudely-knitted octopus Roman had made for him when he discovered crochet. Remus claimed to have set fire to it when they were teenagers, but Roman had seen it tucked away on a shelf the last time he had been in his room, before the Great Divide). The room swam a little when Roman thought about it too much. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but it wasn't as if he'd done much to earn Remus' loyalty. Why would he take the higher road and keep all of that to himself now, when he had the prime opportunity right in front of him to make himself seem like the better twin?

Hold on... He was thinking about this all wrong. Remus didn't care about good and bad the same way he did. Sure he was adamant that his version of being creative was more interesting, but he never tried to convince any of the other sides that he was inherently better or more worthy of attention than Roman, at least not to the same extent he did. The realization hit Roman like a train on it's way to a damsel tied to railway tracks (for lack of a less Remus-y simile): had he been wrong to push his brother away when he was just trying to help? All this time he had expected nothing but the worst from him, all because he was loud and unapologetic and had gone about his concern in a way that frightened him. Though just because Roman had been scared, surely that didn't warrant the dark sides being pushed aside in such a manner, and clearly the repression wasn't any benefit to Thomas...And was that partially his fault? He had been the one who encouraged Patton to divide the sides up. He had come up with the name for them: light and dark.

When he really thought about it, there wasn't much 'light' about him, not when he had been the source of so many problems.

Making Virgil feel unwelcome and continuing to trample on his boundaries.

His insults toward Logan and attempts to diminish his importance.

Leading Thomas and Patton astray in his pursuits for romance.

Being too quick to side with Janus when he should’ve known that the deceitful side only stood for selfishness and not the fair-played ambition Thomas valued.

And now: his treatment of Remus for most of their lives. Pushing him away, pretending he didn't exist, trying to erase their memories together.

How could he have the gall to claim that he saw Remus as an awful reflection of everything he didn’t want to be, when the whole point of looking into a mirror means facing you and you alone?

Even his metaphors were hypocritical.

It was a shock that nobody saw through that statement or called him out on how he had wronged just about everybody. How truly unfortunate it was that he had been declared the hero when he had done very little to live up to that title. Heroes weren't mean. They didn't make people feel bad about themselves for merely existing. They're supposed to defeat the bad guys, yes, but every time he had thought he was accomplishing that, it turned out that he was always off the mark. At least this time he had it right with Deceit, but still, that didn't erase the history he had with misjudging what was acceptable. He couldn't help but wonder what sort of reflection that must have on Thomas' content. If his creativity, which was supposed to be a force of pure good, had made a countless number of errors, what did that say about the things they were proud of? How many things had they put into the world that were imperfect? That had a misleading message? That was problematic and hurt people?

The realization had his throat tightening in panic. How could he ever have confidence in his work when he had such a flawed system of right and wrong? How-

...Wait.

Roman's spiraling thoughts were fortunately put on pause as he passed by his vanity, being pulled back to reality in an instant and finally noticing the splash of colours that had made themselves welcome on his skin once more. He gaped at his own reflection. It wasn’t as if he was unused to the sight per say, but he hadn’t realized anything had happened today that would affect Thomas’ ego. Remus’ appearance perhaps? He had the feeling that if there was any discussion to be had in light of that it would be on the goodness of his character, which could be a worthy-enough explanation. But if anything wouldn’t that what the large gash on the back of his head (fittingly) represented? So where had the others come from? Unless…

Was it him?

His own self-criticism had never left a dent on his pride before. Usually his injuries tended to be the result of outside sources; the kind of things that come out of nowhere and hit at you harder than you could ever expect. Did this mean that his own words were on par with Thomas’ harshest critics?

Roman shakily sat down. This... was a good thing, right? Perhaps he was finally gaining some self-awareness. He had been trying to make amends for where he had fallen short in the past, so this could be the sign he was making progress.

Yes. This was good. And if it wasn't, then perhaps this was just apart of his repentance. At this point he was sure everyone would agree.

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

VIII - the art of learning to let go.

The thing about tightropes is quite interesting. Like most other skills, it is something that needs to be honed. At first you try on a smaller scale and fall off more times you can count, but it's alright because that's why you practice in a safe environment. And then you progress to something more risky, and this time you have other tools to help keep you steady. Before you know it, you're up doing the actual thing; a rope suspended tens of feet in the air and thousands of eyes watching your every move, each one wondering if you really will make it across, or if they're about to watch a great tragedy take place before them. When you misjudge your own abilities and are thrust upon that rope when you're unprepared, however, all of the practice you gained can feel as if it has slipped away. As soon as you take your first step, the rope wobbles and you know somewhere deep down that your fall will be inevitable. But with so many expectant eyes baring into you, what else are you to do but continue forward? Continue until you're halfway across and your balance is so shaky that all you can do is watch as the rope swings backwards and forwards beneath your feet until you give up on trying to steady yourself entirely and-

Roman let go of the rope he had been clinging onto.

There was no grace in the way that he fell. It wasn't even a matter of choosing a side; ego or change. At first he fell so gradually that he didn't feel it at all, placing all of his thoughts and opinions into a neat little box and shoving them aside. Trying so hard to adapt, trying to be feel comfortable clinging to reasoning that contradicted his role, his meaning, his existence- and before he knew it, he was plummeting towards the ground because even then, that little piece of purpose he was forcing himself to mold his worth around did nothing but feed into the self-righteousness that must've always been there, hiding away under the surface.

Roman could only describe the feeling as air-sickness when he sunk out, his very being thrown into weightless uncertainty. Once he appeared back at his safe place, the place he wanted to be most, he felt his body connect with the ground once more as he collapsed onto the floor, body shaking with sobs and wounds he already knew were appearing.

He had been so stupid. Every step he took was littered with mistakes. Just when he thought he had learned, to try to be more accepting, to know when to give up, to listen to others instead of forging his own path, another thing came along and knocked him back to where he started and he was thrown back into the cycle of trying to atone for his actions. A cycle that never seemed to end.

His arm fractured and started to swell.

For once he thought he finally had it figured out. If he just followed the person who should've known what was best for Thomas, even if it meant going back on his own desires, surely then he would be on the right side for once. But all of a sudden that was wrong and now it was all his fault that so many bad outcomes had come about as a consequence of his lack of assertion. He may not have loaded the gun, but he had pulled the trigger, and that made him more culpable than anyone else.

His nose ached as if hit by an unseen force and began dripping blood.

Even his attempts at keeping his ego in check were all for nothing because the moment he felt threatened he lashed out towards Janus, the side who now all of a sudden deserved a seat at the table because he had gained Patton's favor (nevermind that he had agreed with him first. Oh no, that was just Roman being naive and easy to sway if only you stroke his ego a little. What importance could his opinions possibly have?). But that was the thing, wasn’t it? In the end he just couldn’t win, no matter what he did. When he tried to silence his voice it was too obvious and attention-seeking, and when he chose to project his thoughts it was too loud and abrasive. When he spoke out he was punching down, but when others did the same they were punching up up up. It left him wondering how much more he had to fall before it was no longer deemed okay to kick him while he was down. Was it his fault for choosing to sit atop his golden pedestal, making himself seem forever untouchable and unable to be hurt? And would things be different if he was sensitive like Patton? Complicated like Virgil? Respectable like Logan? Had he been making a mistake all along by pretending to be stronger than he was? But how was he ever supposed to let go of the walls he had built, knowing that the second they crumbled, all the things he had been trying to protect himself from would pass through and destroy everything he had worked so hard for? Maybe it was time to accept that this was all he could be; that there was no way for him to change, no way to soften his edges or stick firm to his beliefs that wouldn’t end with him in a losing position.

His ribs ached, bending unnaturally until he felt a snap in his chest.

Perhaps Janus was right by calling him evil. He had proven it time and time again that he was no good for Thomas. In fact, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to say that he was worse than Remus. At least he couldn't help the way he was, didn't have control over the problems he caused unlike Roman. He was supposed to be the half with all the bad parts removed. The 2.0 version, new and improved. He had no excuse for being as flawed as he was, not really. All this time spent thinking he was the good twin, and it was nothing more than an act of self-delusion. The grandeur of a side with nothing to show for it beyond his words.

His eyelid puffed up and mottled with colour.

...He was bad. Unneeded. Evil.

The capillaries across his knuckles burst and stained them a violent red.

Everything would be so much better if he just-

"Broman?" Oh shit.

Romans eyes flew open. And he realized belatedly that he wasn't looking at his floor; his floor had intricate Persian rugs and a soft fluffy carpet. This one had various stains and burns and felt scratchy against his fingers.

"What the fuck. Princey? You good?"

1) He wasn't in his room. 2) Wherever he was, Remus and Virgil were here too.

"M-my mistake! I must have accidentally sunk out to the wrong place. If you'll excuse me-" He tried, but his voice was hoarse and clearly not okay. Of all times for his acting skills to have failed him.

"Oh no you don't."

Before he could sink out through the floor, two arms latched under his armpits and hoisted him upright. He choked back a gasp at the sudden movement, senses flashing white as his injuries were jostled. He barely heard the shocked exclamation in front of him before the two voices discussed something hastily and he was deposited onto a soft surface. The ringing in his ears faded, just in time to hear Virgil speak.

"What happened? " He asked, voice layered with anxiety and sounding on the verge of a panic attack. Roman would have tried to reassure him if he didn't feel like his entire body was on fire.

"It just happens sometimes, when Thomas’ ego gets bruised." Remus answered bitterly when it became clear his brother wasn't in a position to explain. He then muttered under his breath: "Though this time is different, huh?"

"What? I thought- I didn’t know it got this bad.” Virgil whispers, horrified.

"Sorry you have to see this, Finding Emo." Roman croaked once he began slowly coming back to his senses. He would regret not being more composed later, but right now he couldn't really bring himself to care about anything. “I’ll be as good as Gucci soon.”

"No. Shut the fuck up, you don't get to say that." Remus said angrily. Why did he sound so mad? Roman tried to crack open his eyes to check, but the world was still spinning too much for him to really recognize what was he was seeing. On top of that it seemed one of his eyes was swollen shut. Joy. That'll make it more difficult to patch himself up later.

"'Told you before, I can handle myself." He finally managed.

"Yeah? Was that you 'handling yourself' when you dropped in and started bleeding all over my floor? Or when you stopped talking to me and kicked us 'dark sides' to the curb because your sense of superiority was more important? Or when you started acting like a royal prick to everyone just so they wouldn't know you spend your nights licking your wounds?"

"Stop." Roman pleaded, shamefully curling into himself as much as his body allowed in its current state. Remus paused in his tirade before continuing, more quietly.

"If you're uncomfortable just from that, you should try watching your brother slowly self-destruct for years and not being able to do anything about it. That's fucking uncomfortable." Roman heard a sniffle, and his body went cold. He hadn't heard Remus get upset since they were kids. Sometimes he forgot that there was more to his brother than his disgusting unpredictable persona, and the thought that he could've been hurting Remus all this time was something that had never even crossed his mind.

"I'm..." Sorry? Was he sorry? Apologizing was practically second nature at this point, but he couldn't even tell if the words would be genuine if he said them. Was he sorry for his actions or for hurting Remus, or was it the fact that he had been caught at all? If he had it his way, none of this would be happening, so perhaps he wasn't as apologetic as he thought. He really was the worst, wasn't he?

Remus seemed to pick up on what he was thinking about saying, because he laughed; not in his usual cartoon-ish way, but resigned and hurt. The sound pulled at Roman's heart. "Save it. Here's what's going to happen you Walmart Prince Eric knockoff. You’re going to accept our help whether you like it or not, and if you try to pull any self-sacrificing BS at any point, I’m going to eat your entire makeup collection.”

“...You wouldn’t. You don’t like the way glitter sticks to your teeth.” Roman argued weakly, just for the sake of being contrary.

“Try me.”

Roman sighed. He really didn’t doubt that Remus would be petty enough to go through with his threats, especially since he knew it how much it would bother Roman to summon a new set. In any case, he wasn’t in a position to do much of anything at the moment, and now that it was too late to pretend like this never happened, he figured he might as well roll with it. Future him could deal with the consequences later.

“Okay.” He said after a moments pause, looking to the Virgil-shaped figure, as much as the crick in his neck would allow. “...Just don’t tell Patton about this. Not yet.”

The figure shuffled, out of what was probably awkwardness after having watching the twins argue. “No worries dude. We’re not exactly on- uh. Y’know what, nevermind, I’ll just go get the medical kit.”

During the moments that Virgil had shuffled off, there was an empty silence. Roman spent it trying to blink his uninjured eye back into focus, until he was finally able to spot Remus standing across from him, an uncharacteristically glum look on his face. "You look like you're going to a funeral."

"Don't even joke about that. I don't need more thoughts about-"

"Death? I thought that was pretty par for the course."

Remus smiled wryly at him, sarcastic and mocking. "You dying, dummy. D'you think I never imagined it? Something happening and you disappearing because you never let anyone help you- and me not even knowing it happened? Finding out much too late? Being alone?"

Roman didn't know what to say to that. "Sorry." He blurted out, and this time he felt like he meant it. "If it means anything in retrospect, I wouldn't have ever let it go that far. I think."

"'You think.'" Remus repeated. "God, you need some self-care. It's a shame you and Jan-jan weren't friends before. It's supposed to be his job to make sure this kind of thing doesn't happen, you know."

Roman felt himself flinch at the mention of Janus' name before he could control it. If Remus noticed, he didn't get the chance to comment on it, because at that moment Virgil came bustling back with a first aid kit.

"I didn't know what else you needed, so I got some water, balms, bandages, frozen peas, and creams. Just in case." He spoke, noticeably out of breath.

"Water?" Roman asked as a glass was held towards him. He pushed himself upright with some effort and accepted it.

"For painkillers." Virgil replied, handing him some pills once he had set the other items down. "Also your throat sounded kinda rough, and when you cry a lot you can get dehydrated, so..."

Surreptitiously, Roman wiped at his face and tried to not feel too embarrassed that the two of them had heard him wail like a toddler who'd had their favourite toy taken away. Before he knew it, he had taken the pills and downed half of the glass while the other two sides unpacked the medical supplies. Virgil really had thought of everything he might have needed.

Roman blinked as he watched them, stunned that he would go to so much effort. "This is very thoughtful of you, Medic Parade."

Virgil paused as he pieced together the nickname, and then scowled. "Mayday doesn't even sound anything like medic- and it's not. I just didn't want to- y'know- get the wrong things and make it worse."

Remus elbowed Virgil in the side, perhaps in an attempt to cheer him up. "Hey, you can't do any worse than what we did the first time Ro got a booboo."

"...And what was that?" Virgil's hesitant tone indicated he wasn't sure if he want to know.

"Nothing!" Remus grinned.

"I'm pretty sure that was just a concussion." Roman stated before Virgil got the wrong idea and thought they were totally stupid, looking upward as he tried to recall the incident Remus was talking about. It felt like forever ago now. "Not like anything could be done, to be fair."

"'Just'-" Virgil made a strange choked sound. "Is this what my life's gonna be now? Having a worry-induced heart attack every 5 minutes?"

"Welcome to the club!" Remus cheered, offering a fist bump which Virgil ignored in favour of burying his head in his hands.

"Goddammit. Alright- let's get this show on the road I guess. Roman, take your shirt off." When Remus' eyebrows started waggling, clearly about to make an inappropriate comment, Virgil waved his hands wildly to stop him. "So we can look at the damage! Shut your mouth Remus!"

"I didn't say anything." He intoned, looking overly smug before turning to Roman expectantly.

Said man frowned, placing the glass of water on the bedside table next to him. Before he made any move, he glanced at Virgil who was looking red either out of Remus-induced embarrassment or frustration. Mood. "You don't have to stick around for this part if you don't want to. It can be a bit much, so I wouldn't blame you."

"I'm not a baby, Roman." Virgil retorted, crossing his arms. "Making sure you don't die or something is way more important than my comfort. I can't promise you'll be safe from me calling you an idiot until you're better, though."

Roman looked away again. Was that condescending of him to ask? He opened his mouth to apologize, before closing it in resignation. No need to make this into an issue; he'll ask Virgil whether he felt belittled later. "...Okay. That's fair."

Instead of going through the pain of trying to remove a shirt with a possibly broken rib, he snapped and it disappeared. He heard a sharp inhale, but in response to what, he didn't know. Roman looked downwards to check. Among the remnants of previous attempts at self-healing (some messier than others), the area around his right rib was inflamed and a large portion of his stomach was splotched with purple. Noticeably, his left arm was also burning red, but luckily it seemed like the fracture there was non-displaced, which hopefully meant it would heal quicker. Other than that, there weren't any major injuries besides his black eye and bloody nose that needed attention. Could be worse, considering how god-awful he felt!

Remus whistled. "You look like someone took a dalmatian and made it the colours of the bi-flag."

"Yeah. That's- weirdly accurate." Virgil winced. "What hurts most?"

"Uh- My arm and my ribs I suppose. They're a little... on the broken side."

"That's what I thought." Virgil muttered under his breath, grabbing the items to make a split. "I'll deal with those first, Remus you help with his nose and the bruising. And if you want to make yourself useful, hold these peas to your eye, dumbass."

"Your bedside manners are impeccable." Roman said sarcastically, taking the bag of peas and exhaling as he adjusted to the cold feeling pressed against his face. "...Here I thought there would be a grace period before you started calling me names."

"Just calling it like I see it." Virgil hummed. With deft fingers, he held the splint under Roman's forearm and began winding the bandages around it. "You should probably make an actual brace later when you're up to it, but hopefully this should keep it in place and remind you to not use it for now."

"But that sides my dominant arm-" Roman whined, about to complain about how he was supposed to get work done until Remus pinched the bridge of his nose none too gently, and he yelped. "Ow! Remus."

"Think of that as payback for the last 15 years." Remus replied lightly. "Tilt your head back."

Begrudgingly, Roman complied, resting his head against the headboard. He stared at the ceiling as his brother and best friend silently worked their way around his injuries, applying topical ointment to his bruises and applying band-aids to small cuts. He didn't even realize they had finished until Remus bonked him on the head.

"All done! Shame it's not Halloween. You could go as a mummy again."

"Ha ha. What a comedian you are." Roman replied in a deadpan, but fought to keep a smile away anyway. The irony of how much he resembled that costume right now definitely wasn't lost on him.

"...I'm sorry for ruining that, by the way." Virgil spoke up suddenly from where he had been packing everything away, breaking the thoughtful silence he'd been in for the past few minutes. "Your costume during the Christmas video, I mean. And saying all of that harsh stuff to make a point."

Roman only stared, taken aback. "All of that happened half a year ago. I'm not upset about that."

"I know, I know. It's just... I've been thinking about it recently, all the times I haven't acted very...good." He bit his lip, averting his eyes. "Especially now, knowing that kind of thing literally hurts you."

"Virgil." Roman sighed softly, taking his hand. Virgil startled but didn't pull away. "You don't need to be 'good' all the time. Wasn't that the point you were trying to get across back then? All of us have made mistakes in our pasts, some more than others, but if you can forgive us for that, then you deserve the same acceptance for your less-than-stellar moments."

"Oh." He said, eyes glassy. His hand tightened around Roman's. "I'm still sorry, if I've ever made things worse for you or if I haven't been supportive enough."

"I- You have-" Roman spluttered worriedly, sitting up.

"It's alright, I already know that we kinda work against each other at times. Part of the job." Roman's mouth closed with a grimace. "Still, it's unfair on you. You shouldn't be expected to perfect, especially not with an asshole like me there to tear into your work. So just...know that it's okay to tell us when you're struggling, okay?"

"Right..." Roman bit his cheek. Virgil seemed well-meaning, but showing that sort of weakness was a concept he still found difficult to accept, even if he had given in this time and allowed himself to be completely seen. Virgil noticed his lackluster agreement and patted him with his free hand.

"Hey. In almost any case we'd embrace you."

"...No one hates you." Roman finished a beat later with a small smile. Virgil's face lit up and moved closer to his side. Upon seeing this, Remus unceremoniously squished himself between the two of them, careful not to bump against Roman too much (although Virgil definitely got the brunt of Remus crawling over him, to his dismay).

"Look at you two, my favourite dorks, bonding over feeling insecure!" He declared, throwing an arm around both of them. "Couldn't be me, but I still love you."

Roman poked Remus' side. "So that wasn't you admitting to being worried earlier?"

"Nope! New phone who dis?"

"You're insufferable." Virgil rolled his eyes fondly. "...I love you guys."

And Roman sighed contently, feeling safe and cared for. Things weren't perfect right now; he still needed time to heal and Remus and Virgil would undoubtedly want him to open up about what happened sooner or later, but for now he was was able to hear that he was loved and believe it to be true, and that was enough.

"I love you both too. Thank you."

#sanders sides #roman sanders #roman angst #creativitwins #platonic prinxiety #platonic royality #my writing #that's a tag now ig #....i've stared at this for so long idk if it's good anymore #bruised but not broken

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broken-heroes-and-potatoes · 4 years

Note

Hey, this may seem dumb and all but like can you have any of the bakusquad members comforting their reader after they faced some boy problems. I think itll really cheer my up. It’s all good if not :)

@teerama It’s not dumb at all, I’am sorry for the late reply I hope it’ll help you feel a little much better ♥ Your admin here is totally insomniac so if you want to talk about it, my private messages are open, Stay Strong! ♥

The news broke and stroke you like a dagger in the heart, this guy you’ve trusted, this relationship you put so much energy and effort in came crashing into pieces in front of you.

You didn’t know how to react nor what you were feeling, he was definitely a bastard for doing things that way and it let you, frustrated, devasted maybe angry if you dig enough under the layers of sorrow.

Anyways, there weren’t a lot of solution, you could lock yourself up in your room and exhaust you to the bones after hours of crying OR, you could relay on one of your friends and share the news with them..

Eijiro Kirishima - Physical comfort

- By the time you focused on what to do, a knock on your door was heard, you got up and as soon as you opened it, you fell face to face with a smiling Kirishima

- He caught you off guard, you weren’t prepared for a verbal exchange at that moment, and when his red hues stopped on your sad face, a wave of panic shook him.

- «Heeeey what’s wrong?» Oh Boi. The sound of his concern voice was enough to open the bag of your emotions and you weren’t able to hold it together, so you just hid your face in your hands and cried like a river

- He would push you inside, he hates to see you cry, slightly distraught, were you okay, obviously not, but, what happened, are you hurt, have you learn some really bad news, can he does something?

- He would give you the best comforting hug ever, letting you damp his shoulder for as long as you need to, he won’t ask anything, only passing his hand on your hair with some reassuring «Sshhhhh it’s okay, it’s okay»

- You would finally fall asleep against him from exhaustion, both of you on your bed, and he can't help but think how beautiful you look with a slight feeling of guilt to be ‘happy’ to have you in his arms even because of a situation like this.

Hanta Sero - Earful comfort

- His room is not far from yours, so maybe, you could just stop by and see if he isn't busy? That was the better thing to do. Yes.

- Hanta is a sweet perfection when it comes to listen and comfort people. He’s the one who would be the most mature and honest about the situation.

- He’s composed, thoughtful, patient and he would let you rant for hours if you feel the need to.

- He inspires trust, he’s that kind of people you tell your deepest secrets or someone you easily confy what’s wrong in your life, he doesn’t do anything to, but it’s just his reassuring nature.

- So, here you were, explaining every single details of the relationship and problems encountered, why, how, when, it took litteraly hours.

- It’s almost as if you were about to take some papers and highlighter to organize everything and try to understand what happened, discovering new stuff as if you were playing Cluedo.

- In the end, you saw the situation with a new eyes, and you distanced yourself from it helped you streamline the whole thing.

- Thanks to Hanta, who was smiling confidently at you, even if, in his head, he just wanted to hug you thight and sequester the guy for making you so sad.

Denki Kaminari - Silly comfort

- You were supposed to revise with Kaminari, but hell no it would not be possible in that state, the guy could understand, or so you thought.

- After a text saying you weren’t feeling well enough to come over, you’ll receive a plethora of messages and don’t ignore them, because he’ll reach you on every possible platforms.

- He tried a call/visio or two, but he got that you weren’t feeling like talking in person, he kept the texting to keep you company though’, he’s a lazy buns so he answered with vocals instead.

- A lot of puns to lighten the mood were used and you were grateful for the good laugh and positive energy (no pun intended) that guy conveys around him.

- You’ll both end far away from the principal topic, almost forgetting about the ache, sending silly tik toks to each other or Epic Fails compilations.

- By the end of the conversation, you would feel way better, and, sorry but, he would win. You capitulate and accept to turn on your webcam.

- He keeps a broad smile on his lips, but he doesn't ignore the pang in his chest at the sight of your puffy and dark circled eyes. Because, he would have never made you cry that way.

Mina Ashido - High Level comfort

- Best girl in the world, it’s like a mix between all of the guys above without any awkwardness.

- As soon as she heard that bastard made you cry she knocked on your door in the next fifteen minutes.

- Comfort food in hands, your favorite ones, how does she..? In the middle of the night? Neverminds.

- She wants to hear every details about it and would comments every single thing, she’ll help you write a dreadful, final message to send him that will make him cry and crawl in front of you.

- Then, If you want to talk about it, she’ll listen, if you want her to say he's a fucking asshole, she’ll, if you just feel like chilling and don’t think about it, no problem!

- You’ll spend the night together, gossiping, with silly movies you both know by heart playing in the background.

- Wanna scream and dance on the bed like crazy? She puts on the radio ignoring the complaints of the neighbourgs.

- Wanna go out and took a midnight bath in the U.A swimming pool? Say no more.

- She won’t leave your side for the next two weeks, keeing you busy to change your mind. Mina would do everything in her power to cheer you up because it’s what friends do.

Katsuki Bakugo - What is comfort for fuck sake.

- No. Staying in your room crying your heart out wasn’t the good solution, but you didn’t wanted to disturb you friends with your stupid story.

- For what after all ? Hear ‘I told you so’ or ‘I always knew this guy wasn’t good’. They weren’t backbiting, but to comfort you, they could have been and you didn’t need that right now.

- The migraine was harassing your head and eyes and a boiling shower was the best thing you could think of, you hadn’t eat anything in the day neither so.. maybe a quick stop by the kitchen to grab even if only a cup of tea would be good?

- You bumped into Bakugo, of all people, and as he was about to lash onto you with a «watch your steps», he stopped mid-sentence when he saw your red eyes.

- You apologized head down and left toward the kitchen, him, he didn’t budge, watching your moves. He’s not a specialist when it comes to feelings or comfort, but he couldn’t just let you walk away in that state.

- You probably had a good reason for being like this, it was none of his buisness and he didn't care (or so he thought), but something was screaming inside of him to move.

- He hailed you, and casually asked you to join him in his room because he was about to begin a movie (a movie you really wanted to see, oh convenient.)

- He would pull out a bag of chips when he heard your stomach growl, only because HE wanted to eat some (yeah, sure.)

- He won’t ask anything, the silence was comfortable and you realized that a bit of company, his company, was really appreciable.

- When he learnt what had happen, he would keep it a secret, but confront the guy and threatened him to blow his head off if he ever talk to you again. He meant it, he would make all of the guys run away from you if it could prevent you from crying.

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wtfgaylittlezooid · 3 years

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I’ve lost to temptation so here it is

My interpretation of magolor lets fucking go

So first section: How this bitch works

So Magolor is from Halcandria, a planet who’s core is essentially magic. There’s so much magic on this single planet that it leaked into the life and even some objects that could contain it. Magolor is no exception. Magic energy is essentially stored in a second heart (tho it’s more of a container than a heart), and runs through the body very similar to blood. It’s created and flows through his body, and allows for things like his eye glow, floating, and obviously powers. When he’s asleep, it regenerates. If there’s already enough magic energy while he’s asleep, it disposes of the old magic mostly by floating in sleep or by more severe means like insomnia aka magical overdose (which I’ve gone over before).

Next, is the glowing eyes!! Why he have that, I’ll tell ya. It makes it easier to detect other halcandrians as well as make it easier to detect light such as fire. Which is very useful when you need to look through ashy clouds and make sure a giant rock isn’t about to slam into you from above. It’s also a way to show the health of a halcandrian. Though the eyes glow yellow, they have a brown color very similar to their fur. If they’re sick or very unhealthy, they lose their glow and it slowly reverts to the brown color.

As a side effect of the master crown though, Magolor’s magic energy got boosted by the crown so he didn’t just die instantly by overwhelming power. It sounds like a good thing on paper, having so much energy to the point where he can fight non stop without getting tired magically, but magic overdose due to him not being able to deplete enough of it fast enough is a bitch. He gets sick a lot easier, bad insomnia, as well as occasionally using magic without realizing. So this clears out how he works and shit!! Now onto...

Before RTDL

So before RTDL Magolor had little social skills or experience with interacting with other people that wasnt lying to them to get them to do stuff. It was just how Halcandria worked. People kept to themselves and if you needed help you’d have to twist the truth in order to convince them. Relationships of any kind are very rare in Halcandria as well.

So when he met Marx, it was weird. He originally planned to let him stay until he got better and told him about why he was found in a Nova’s wreckage, so he could hopefully get Marx to lead him to something else he could use to defeat Landia. It didn’t go as planned. Marx was an unpredictable dude who immeadiatly fell for Magolor (but mags didn’t notice cause he’s never experienced someone else crushing or a crush) and due to that Marx spent a lot of time with Magolor during recovery and grew on him. He also ended up showing Magolor what friendship was, and honestly: magolor liked it. He liked having someone around. It was a nice change, and it was nice to have someone around to help (and rarely give him affection). So, Magolor wanted Marx to rule the universe with him once he killed Landia. He didn’t want Marx to leave. Though things started going downhill when an accident happened one time while exploring and Magolor was distracted, leaving to Marx having to use Nova’s power to make sure Magolor was safe.

And Magolor was fascinated, and god he was excited. He pried Marx for questions about his wings, constantly stared at them when they were out, and started talking about if he and Marx used their combined powers they could finally kill Landia and get what they want. But Marx didn’t want to. His want for power by then left, and he knew the consequences. He was happy just hanging out with Mags, and didn’t want to risk his life fighting a dragon with a crown of infinite power. But Magolor, despite liking the change of company, was used to being a loner and believed he could do it again since he’s halcandrian. He said Marx could leave if he didn’t want to, and that was when Marx started to see just how desperate Magolor was for the Master Crown. It was all too similar to his own desperation with Nova, and all words were useless and failed to change Magolor’s mind. So Marx left, and Magolor continued. He felt a little bad (and lonely) but pushed it down and decided no turning back and opted to modifying the Starcutter more like a weapon and attacking Landia that way, but failing.

Though he had a backup plan, thanks to Marx. Which brings me to..

The Betrayal

So this is RTDL time, before the betrayal. His back up plan was going to the pink hero Marx ranted about and using them to get the crown. After all, if they could defeat someone with the gift of Nova’s power, they could defeat a wyvern with a crown. They landed, and Magolor met everyone, but he couldn’t stop thinking about a certain someone. Chilly, who volunteered to stay with him while the others collected the spheres and parts (tho it was because he was suspicious). Mags didn’t know this, and assumed he was being nice. So the second person who (he thought) was being friendly with him enough to stay with him, and fill that hole Marx accdientally left by leaving him. He couldn’t not get attatched. He became REALLY REALLY clingy, and did as much as he could to keep himself focused as well as make sure they were friends. It backfired, making Chilly agitated most of the time, but it also semi worked later on. Most of his time between the betrayal and his crash landing was spent monitoring everyone’s progress, and trying to get Chilly to like him so he could do what he had to do during the betrayal.

Now during the betrayal! The closer he got to achieving the crown again, the more desperate and ooc he got. By the time he was at Halcandria, there’d be no way to talk him out of it, since he was THIS close. But there was still one thing wrong that he assumed the crown would fix: he couldn’t go back to being alone. He assumed he would adjust, since that’s how it’s been for his whole life. But now, that he’s actually had two people really close to him (and one leave) that showed him affection and didn’t only use him like in Halcandria, he didn’t want to go back to being alone. He couldn’t. But he came too far to turn back, and continued anyway (not like he ever changed his mind, but he did have moments of doubt). He told Chilly to stay in the Starcutter, wanting to keep him safe, which obviously didn’t go well for him when Chilly responded with freezing the ship from the inside to stop Magolor from using it in its attacks.

And of course, when Magolor sees this, he has a moment of “oh shit I can’t let him do this. I can’t lose someone else.” And tries to convince Chilly to join him. He talks about the two of them ruling and even giving Chilly Popstar to rule. He means it. He wants someone with him, somebody that he genuinely loves and treats him like a friend. He assumed that if he didn’t force Chilly into working with him like Marx, he would join in the end. And like any person with common sense, Chilly denies, loyal to Kirby and Popstar. THIS was the moment Magolor became truly desperate, he tries to convince Chilly to join him but he can barely get any words other than “but you were only friend” out while crying (in the middle of battle lol). Kirby and everyone take this chance to attack, while Magolor is just kind of broken. He fucked up again.

And he’ll be alone.

He has one thing left now, and that’s the power to rule the universe.

And he’s desperate to have this one thing go right for him, and he uses the remaining power of the Master Crown... which brings me to the next topic!

The Master Crown

Full section for the master crown let’s go. It gets its dark power from a leader/creator of dark matter (think 0), and is sentient. It only knows to shroud the world in darkness, and will do whatever it takes to get it. It’s powers are held at bay by Landia, who is Halcandria’s guardian and can resist its powers due to being a magic guardian. Magolor however, isn’t a magic guardian, and can’t resist. To him, it’s a shiny piece of jewelry that’ll make him strong so things can finally go his way.

The way it works is by drawing people in, like a venus fly trap. It just amplify people’s interest in it, as well as bring out the more negative traits about them that makes them easier to control. The most common traits is desperation, impulsiveness, frustration, and determination. And once the crown is on their head, it locks on and is irremovable and works like a parasite, basically completely erasing whoever put it on and molding them to the perfect puppet. Magolor essentially just sped up the process completely by using the last of its power in a desperate attempt to get what he wanted.

After the Betrayal

Magolor, after the betrayal, is left just floating around Another Dimension. He’s exhausted, in a lot of pain, and completely magically drained. He couldn’t even float if he tried, and that uses the bare minimum of magic. He’s stuck here for a long time, and at first, he’s extremely frustrated and upset. He spends a lot of time replaying the events in his head (not magolor soul, he has no memories of that aside from snippets that come into his dreams that are partially due to the master crown’s lasting effect) and just getting more and more angry at everything. He was so close to having control over EVERYTHING, and he lost it over himself the second he used the rest of the power. He was infuriated that he manged to let that stupid puffball beat him, along with their friends.

He cries, screams, shouts, but it doesn’t matter. Rage can only last so long, and it’s not much before he’s just exhausted and tired. He’s given up on escaping, knowing he can’t. He cant form a dimensional portal strong enough to pull him out of a dimension. He only has the skill to use it for teleportation. After a few days, he’s accepted what happened, that this is his fate. He hates being alone, floating in space with no silly jester to crack a joke or scratch his head, and no snowman who’s bell jingled with an adorable tune whenever he laughed and even gave him hugs. He ends up getting habits of scratching his head (despite the pain because of master crown injuries) and hugging himself as a way to fill that hole the two left when leaving. He misses them, and starts to regret going after the crown in the first place. He comes up with scenarios in his head to pass the time as he basically waits for himself to rot. He imagines apologizing and having his friends back. He imagines Marx somehow finding him similar to how Magolor found him. He imagines not being alone, and being happy. Not plagued by agonizing exhaustion and self fury. He even comes to miss Kirby and their friend one he actually realizes the kindness they showed him, since he was too focused before to realize.

He spends a few days in the hell dimension before he finds something. He ends up finding an energy sphere that floats past that was lost during the battle. He grabs and clings to it, now having only one thing from before. It doesn’t make the loneliness any better, but it does make things a little less bareable. But of course, energy spheres are a sphere doomer’s favorite snack, and it doesn’t take long before one comes along really wanting it.

Magolor at first, pushes it away desperate to keep this one thing he had before, and the sphere doomer keeps coming back desperately wanting its food. Eventually, Magolor and the sphere doomer form a slight bond since this was when Magolor started slowly regaining magic again and tries attacking it with his revolution orbs, but it’s just a treat for the sphere doomer. The sphere doomer keeps coming back for more treats and another attempt at a snack, and Magolor feels a little less lonely. Over time, he actually gains enough of its trust to pet it and even talks to it. He names her Lor II.

Lor II is the reason he gets out of Another Dimension and back to Halcandria, via opening a rift. Lor II basically gives Magolor a second chance to make things right, and he immeadiatly takes it. Of course, he has to steal the Starcutter to do it, but he makes his way to Popstar to apologize, because he REALLY regrets his major fuck up and at the very least, he can make things better (and maybe get a chance at being less lonely).

So that’s all I got lmao hope you enjoyed

#kirby series #my hc #magolor #marxochilly #hope this is coherent

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liquifiedstars · 3 years

Text

another silly rant thing about people i met recently online

bruh idc if the bitch im talking about is reading this but gah dayum... ngl sick of people romanticizing us this is why i never bring up what i am specifically because you get treated differently right away (especially if youre not east asian)

its just so bizarre to me like....... there were other people that were also asian in the vc and it was so clear that they were uncomfortable as well and for u to talk over me a bunch of times and try to prove that youre not wanting to go to jp just because of anime is just annoying like

you can just admit that, its fine its COMPLETELY normal and very common for foreigners, there’s nothing wrong with it as long as youre respectful obviously

at the end of the day its tourism so wahtever

and to claim that you like our culture is just stupid and lol i just think its hilarious still and i even told people who werent even part of this online group (like irl friends and other online friends) about it and they also thought it was sooo fucking ignorant

like... just bc u saw shit online earlier than most people about asia or jp in particular does not make u any more special than others.............. like okay you thought the kitsune masks are cool or something

its like the same energy when people are like “oh im not racist/ive always liked asians because of mulan!” its just sooo fucking embarrassing..... and you can just say that youre white you know you dont have to be like “oh yeah i cant really relate because im not poc..” like stop trying to drag it out its fine to be white/non-asian when it comes to these things literally a lot of my friends are also interested in jp/asian culture but at least they educate themselves and dont watch shallow ass videos out of all the resources accessible online...

also to think that wearing cultural clothing at the wrong occasions is perfectly fine was the worst part of this............. like although you didnt explicitly state it it was obvious from the tone of your voice like............ and also going to jp restaurants and stores doesnt make you any more special than others either.. like holy shit why are most east coast/midwestern white people so fuckinh ignorant when it comes to poc and asians generally like i get that you dont have diversity in your area but come fucking on its like people donts ee you as an actual person anymore past jp media ie. games and anime

its also like the same situation with my korean friends where they get asked about squid game or kpop generally it sounds like it would never happen but it DOES happen it always fuckinh happens to us asians and its just so fuckinh stupid like can we be seen past these things and more as someone with actual interests or something..

lol but anyways i just..................... idk its just so crazy to me

im not saying if youre white/non-asian and you indulge in asian culture, youre automatically cringe and bad and ignorant...... i have a shit load of white/non-asian friends, both online and irl literally all you hav e to doa at the end of the day is be fuckinh respectful and aware of this bullshit and to not only interact with people just because theyre of this or that descent/think youre better than the vast majority because you know more than them about a particular thing even though youre not even the slightest bit of asian at all...

also before someon messages me about if this is with one particular person yes it partially is but its mainly about my experience online as a whole across multiple platforms with romanticization and some of my old friend groups (theres also irl experiences wchich had to do with my exes and guys fetishizing me/asian fetishization but whatever thats not the point fetishization is a whole different topic

#rant #poc things i guess #i talk #i dont know where else to fucking talk about this shit but it should be common sense by now #long post

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delicatelyherdreams · 4 years

Text

Pragma(tic) 1: Her Morning Takes a Turn

Pairing: Persephone!Bucky Barnes x Hades!Reader

Summary: In a world where the old gods never truly died, you must learn to navigate your way through the ups and downs of immortality. And if living forever wasn’t hard enough, an ancient evil is now threatening to break free after centuries of silence. And as if that still wasn’t hard enough for you, now a pesky and infuriatingly handsome god is trying to wedge his way into your life. Gods, work, love, and conflict—what more could a goddess need? [Hades & Persephone AU]

Word Count: 6217

Warnings: Language

Pragma(tic) Masterlist

Previous Prologue: The Gods Live

The sun was golden against your skin, filling it with warmth and color you rarely ever got. Birds chirped, filling the air with song, and people chatted warmly all around you. You could hear laughter, squealing, sounds of joy and happiness. It was so different from what you were used to.

You exhaled sharply as you opened your eyes, turning your head on a swivel to observe your surroundings.

The open-aired cafe was nestled in a quaint corner of Olympus. Minor gods occupied the tables around you, some accompanied by nymphs or other sprites, others by children, and others still alone. No matter their social situation, everyone looked happy and content. Small children ran between the tables, playing tag and laughing, while their mothers talked and chatted over brunch. You recognized some of the gods and goddesses around.

Peter, a dryad, was at a table with some of his friends. They were all crowded around a phone and laughing to themselves. They seemed to be watching a funny video. If you had to guess, it was probably a silly trend or meme from the Mortal World.

Hope, the goddess of victory, was chatting with her friend Scott, the god of the home and hearth. Both of them had a sandwich and a cup of coffee straight from the Mortal World in front of them, though the food was almost completely forgotten as they talked to each other, deeply engrossed in their conversation.

Small children, nymphs and naiads, ran between the tables in games of tag, squealing as one was dubbed “it” and began to chase the others. They laughed with childish ecstasy, displaying the joy they had in abundance.

The whole area was just alive and warm. It was so foreign to you, but you had to admit that you didn’t mind it.

The sound of bickering voices drew you from your observations, and you turned your head to the two women before you.

The blonde, your beloved youngest sister, goddess of the sky and queen of the gods, Carol, was sitting up straight, her shoulders rolled back proudly. She had a smug smile on her face; she was obviously winning the argument—something about a dress she said she was going to wear to the Winter Solstice Gala that was coming up in a few months.

The redhead, your younger sister and goddess of the sea, Natasha, was a little more agitated, though it was a sort of playful frustration. She was hunched over with her eyes narrowed at her sister as she insisted, “Carol, that’s my dress.”

Carol shook her head, her smile only widening. “No, it’s mine. I bought it from a noble lady in London. I remember it as clear as if it was a century ago.”

Nat arched an eyebrow, her lips curling down in a sour frown. “Are you sure you remember it correctly? I could’ve sworn that I bought that dress a couple centuries ago. No, I know I bought it from Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine in 1160.”

You scrunched up your nose. Twelfth-century English fashion? Definitely not your cup of tea. But you remembered the dress vividly. It was a green thing that really complimented Nat’s eyes and hair but with a style that did not meet your preferences.

Your sisters continued to argue about whose dress it was.

You, meanwhile, watched them with amused eyes, shaking your head as they bickered. Your sisters were always ones to fight constantly, though it was always in good nature. They argued about the silliest things that happened millennia ago—who a goat sacrifice was meant for, who got the sea and who got the sky, who got to be the patron goddess of this city-state or that one—and now, they argued about whose clothes were whose. It was comforting to see that some things never changed over the centuries. Every brunch consistently ended with them bickering over the smallest things. Their sandwiches and mugs of their favorite coffees were long forgotten as they got into it. You’d learned to live with it and just let them duke it out; so long as they didn’t actually kill anyone that is.

But listening to them bicker eventually grew boring and tedious and you’d had enough. You groaned and leaned back in your chair, shrugging off your black blazer which had grown sweltering hot in the sun as you went. Now just in a dark grey tank top, your pleated black pants, and a pair of black flats, you felt much cooler and were ready to end the arguing and your misery. “Come on, both of you,” you called, cutting them off.

They paused their argument and turned towards you, their gazes questioning and demanding as to why you had interrupted them.

You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes. “Are you kidding me right now? Guys, this is like the only time I can see you for the next month and you want to fight about something stupid and childish?” You grinned at them, your eyes sparkling with a teasing glint. “I wonder why I let you two pretend to be older when you’re so damn immature.”

Carol gasped with mock offense. “You’re only older than us by a decade or two.”

“A decade or two is all it takes, my dear youngest sister. Don’t let the power of your queenship go to your head; I’ll always have sibling superiority over you. And, as the eldest, I say no more bickering.”

“But—”

“It’s Nat’s dress. She did buy it from the queen. There, argument over and you can stop bickering now.”

Nat laughed with an elated “Ha!”

Carol huffed, the breath from her mouth ruffling the hair that framed her face, and gave you an exasperated smile. “Fine, it’s Nat’s. I’ll give it back. We’ll stop bickering. What do you want to talk about since you’re so opposed to hearing our arguing?”

You simply shrugged. Ninety percent of the time you were cool with any topic of conversation, even if it meant listening to their banter, but not today.

It was one of the few times you dared to venture out of your realm. Being the Queen of the Underworld gave you little to no time to leave. There were always so many things to do and duties to attend to that you rarely made it out for brunch with your sisters on Olympus. Occasions like this were supposed to be a time for you three to catch up, gossip, and bond, not to bicker endlessly about pointless things.

“I’m honestly not sure,” you admitted.

Carol opened her mouth to respond, probably with a snarky remark about how you ought to know what you want to talk about before interrupting an already started conversation, but Natasha beat her to the punch.

“Hey, how’s Mom doing?” she asked, her eyes curious and her posture hunched in to listen. “You saw her last weekend, right? She doing well?”

You nodded, a fond smile pulling at your lips. Out of all your siblings, you were probably the closest to your mother, Rhea. She made a trip downstairs to see you almost every weekend for brunch and to catch up. You’d say she liked coming down so often because it was out of the way and far quieter and calmer than either the Mortal World or Olympus, but you knew it was because she loved your dog. “She’s doing fine.”

Carol leaned forward in her chair, resting her elbows on the table, suddenly very interested in this new topic of conversation. As the youngest of you three, she probably had the least amount of time with your mother. But, then again, she was the only one who didn’t get digested and got to see Mom the most in the early years. “Is she still working in that mortal hospital?” Carol asked.

You nodded. “Still in the labor ward. She’s the ‘best labor and delivery nurse they’ve ever had’ last I heard.”

“Well of course she is. She is the titaness of motherhood and ease, among other things,” Nat remarked. She shook her head. “I just wish she’d spend more time up here rather than with the mortals.”

“You know that some of the gods don’t like her,” you murmured. “She’s a titan. They don’t trust her. She’d rather be among the mortals who don’t know her for who she is and help them out.” You shrugged. “Anyways, Carol, how’re your queenly duties going?” You wanted to change the topic away from your mother. While you loved talking to her, it was always weird talking about her with your sisters. They didn’t know her like you did; they didn’t know her in the beginning.

Carol hummed. “Oh, you know, they’re going fine. I have to deal with people’s shit all day every day. You’d think that we gods, being as old as we are, would’ve already worked out our problems by now. I mean, Wanda and Pietro still bicker about who’s the better archer, Loki still plays rude pranks, I can barely keep the newer gods in line. I swear, once they find out they’re immortal, it’s a shit-show. They take on the most daring dares and wreak havoc on the Mortal World any chance they get. I know they don’t always mean to be a pain in my ass, but it happens. Oh! But did you hear? The Muses are planning a concert. They’ve got music from…”

And that was about the point when you tuned her out. You didn’t always care about what responsibilities came with ruling Olympus, but you did enjoy seeing her getting excited about the things in her life. She might’ve been a queen, but she was still your baby sister.

As Carol continued to rant and rave about the concert, you failed to notice Natasha sliding her chair closer to you until she was right on top of you.

“So, (y/n).”

You jumped in your seat. She’d snuck up on you, quiet as the gentle sea she ruled over. You glanced sideways at her, your lips curling back in a sneer. You knew that look on her face and you didn’t like it one bit. “Nat… Don’t you even think about it.”

Natasha smirked, her outward expression cool and collected, but her green eyes roaring like waves on a stormy night with devious plans. “Oh? Think about what, my dearest sister?” Her voice was sickly sweet and practically dripping with honey.

You narrowed your eyes, your heart dropping in your chest as it steeled itself against what was coming. “You look like you’re trying to play matchmaker and thinking about setting me up with someone again,” you spat. “Well my answer is what it’s been for the past two thousand years: no.”

Carol had stopped talking about the Muses and was now looking at you with pitiful and sad eyes. “(y/n)...”

“Don’t ‘(y/n)’ me, Care. I’ve told you time and time again, I’m fine. I don’t need to go out on a date, I don’t need a boyfriend or a girlfriend, I’m perfectly happy alone.” You didn’t need any of the trouble that came with a steady relationship. You’d had your fill of that over the years. Hands running down your body, lips kissing your mouth, flesh pressed against flesh… You shuddered.

“We know,” Nat said as she tried to placate you, “and we admire you for your strength. ‘You’re a strong independent woman who don’t need no man’ and all, but we think it might be good for you to go out and try to meet someone. That way you wouldn’t have to be so alone down in the Underworld.”

You frowned. “But I’m not alone down there. I have Cerber—”

“Cerberus,” they finished in unison.

“We know,” Natasha continued. “But we think you’d benefit from some human contact once in a while. We know you still see Mom, and that Clint and Pierce visit you on their errands, but most of the time… You’re all alone down there and we just think you’d be happier if you had someone. I know I’d have already lost my mind underwater if I didn’t have Bruce to keep me company, and Carol wouldn’t be able to stay sane if Maria wasn’t with her.”

Carol nodded in silent agreement, her eyes pleading. “We just want what’s best for you.”

“What’s best for me?” You could feel small bits of agitation rising up in you as you stared them down. The world began to tint red in your sight.

Natasha bit at her lip as she stared you down. “(y/n),” she said, her voice taut and stiff with caution. “Your eyes.”

You turned towards her.

Her body was rigid and alert, almost as if she was preparing to defend herself. She only took that stance when something made her nervous.

And that something was you.

You sighed and mumbled, “Sorry,” before closing your eyes and taking a deep breath in through your nose.

In, out. In, out. In, out.

When you opened your eyes again, the world had returned to its normal color and you were a little calmer. “Sorry,” you mumbled, your head dipping down in a nod. You heaved a sigh and pursed your lips. “Guys, look, I really appreciate you thinking about me and my happiness, but seriously, butt out of my love life. I don't need anybody; I’m perfectly capable of ruling the Underworld on my own.” You shifted in your seat and averted your eyes. “Besides, I don’t think anyone could really handle me right now.” Also, you had the feeling that no one could give you the long-lasting love you craved.

Both your sisters went quiet, their eyes downcast and solemn.

You couldn’t help but feel bad for telling them off again. You knew that they just wanted what was best for you, but at the same time, you knew yourself better than anyone. You knew you didn’t need to be set up and that, when you were ready, you’d find someone yourself.

You cleared your throat and began to pull your blazer back on. “I should probably get going now,” you said, grabbing a black handbag that was sitting beside your chair and pulling the strap onto your shoulder. “Lots of things to attend to down under. It’s time for the weekly check on Tartarus.” You inhaled sharply and rolled your eyes, hoping to convey a feeling of exasperation to them. You had no intention of letting them know that you were over godly contact and ready to go home to peace and solitude.

Natasha chuckled. “I don’t know why you don’t send Pierce to do it. He’s capable.”

“Yeah, he’s capable, but you know how persuasive our father can be if he gets into somebody’s head. And, although Alexander is a great god of death, I don’t necessarily trust his mental strength against him. It’s just best if I do it. I know his tricks, I know his lies, I know how to resist him.” You gave your sisters a small smile. “Take care, you two. Tell Maria and Bruce I said ‘hi,’ and don’t go burning down the world before our next brunch. The Underworld is full enough; we don’t need any early arrivals.” You stood up and pushed in your chair.

Carol stood up and made quick strides across the table to your side. With one fluid motion, she reached for you, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you into a hug. She held you tight. “We miss you up here, (y/n). Please, don’t be a stranger, and come back more often.”

You hugged her back tightly. “I’ll try. When things start calming down again, I’ll come back.”

“Just make sure it’s before another half-decade has passed!” Nat called from her spot off to the side.

You pulled away from Carol and shot your other sister a teasing glare. “Then tell the Fates to stop throwing me curve balls and fucking up my life!” You slid over to her and hugged her as well. “Don’t forget, you can always come down to see me instead. I know it’s dark and gloomy down there, but I’ve remodeled my house and I think it’s really nice.”

“So you’re out of your gothic phase?”

You could feel your cheeks heat up. “Gods, I thought we agreed to never speak about that again. I liked the architecture!”

“Mhmm, and the black clothes, and the heavy eyeliner,” Carol began to list, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“Oh, shut up! The castle’s gone. No more gothic. Now it’s more modern. Have you ever seen those American houses where they’re an open concept, all sleek and box-like?”

Both your sisters nodded.

“It’s kinda like that.”

Natasha whistled. “Nice. Is it still black?”

“Of course.” You chuckled. “Could you imagine a bright yellow house in the middle of the Underworld?”

“It does sound ridiculous,” Carol admitted.

“Exactly. The black is there to stay.” You smiled softly and took a small step away from your family. “I’ll see you both later.”

Carol’s lips twitched up in a sad smile as she brought a hand up to wave at you. “See you soon.”

Natasha simply nodded at you, a tiny smile of her own on her face.

And then you turned your back and walked away from them. You made your way to the cafe’s gate and pushed it open, making your exit.

It was a short walk back to the main road of Olympus. It was easy to know when you’d arrived because street vendors crowded the sides and people filled the streets. Gods, goddesses, nymphs, naiads, satyrs, and all other sorts of creatures bustled around, darting in and out from stall to stall. Families with children stopped to chit chat with each other, couples held hands as they browsed, and singular people shopped with a purpose. Everyone had a smile on their face, everyone was happy. For a normal person, the path would be almost impossible to navigate.

But not for you.

The second you got within five feet of a nymph or naiad, they stiffened and the hairs on the back of their neck stood up. They sensed the death that surrounded you and instinctively inched away. Their heads were put on a swivel as they searched for the source of their discomfort and, when they saw you, they prickled further and took a step out of your way, clearing your path.

It used to bother you how they’d avoid you like the plague but now you’d come to accept it. You reeked like death; they sensed it; they didn’t like it. You learned almost two thousand years ago to not take it personally. They didn’t hate you, they just hated what you were and what you stood for. Besides, you never had to be stuck in foot traffic.

You sauntered down the opening in the road, going as quick as you could so as not to disturb them any longer, but not in a rush. Though you knew you weren’t welcome by most of Olympus’ citizens, you quite enjoyed the feeling of the sun on your skin whenever you came. The feeling was alien to you, but it was pleasant enough to make you want to bask in it for as long as possible.

You made your way up the road, slowly climbing closer and closer to the golden palace of the gods where your youngest sister lived. It was in her front yard where you could safely make your way home without pissing anybody off.

After all, the quickest way back to the Underworld was to have the ground swallow you up. The journey didn’t leave any gaping hole behind you—the ground always closed up after you sank in—but it did leave an Asphodel flower in your stead.

Carol didn’t mind having the flowers dot the lawn of her palace. Most Olympians hated the sight of them and saw them only as a bad omen, but Carol knew there was nothing really wrong with the flower. The reason they got such a bad reputation was that they were linked to you.

Asphodel flowers only grew in the Asphodel Meadows in the Underworld. Mortals believed they had a positive role in the Greek afterlife, but not the Olympians. To them, the immortals, anything related to the Underworld was taboo, almost like it was death itself. Things touched by death and the Underworld were considered dangerous and to be avoided at all costs. You learned a long time ago that if you let the ground swallow you up and plant a flower in your place, the area where you left would be avoided for decades even after the flower had died. It caused a lot of inconveniences for the Olympian people, so you just decided to avoid public places and go to your sister’s yard instead. It was cleaner and less of a nuisance for others that way.

You strolled into the palace’s yard, treading down towards the furthermost corner of the area. There, a small garden of Asphodel flowers lays perfectly still and undisturbed. They’d grown to be as tall as your waist and they shuffled as you moved about them. You tried to keep the garden as small as possible so as to not “contaminate” a large area. You stopped in the center of the garden and dug into your pocket. Your skin hit tiny seeds—Asphodel seeds—and you plucked one out before dropping it onto the grass.

The seed sank into the dirt, disappearing almost immediately, and the ground rumbled beneath you as it began to tear itself apart. It caved in, carving out a tunnel for you to sink into.

You simply crossed your arms, closed your eyes, and rolled your neck to stretch. You’d made this journey so many times that the fall hardly phased you anymore. You remembered doing it the first couple of times and panicking as you fell. Now, it was as easy as taking a step.

You dropped through layers upon layers of rock, finally breaking out into a chasm. Your feet hit the ground and you bent your knees to absorb the impact, straightening up when you were steady. You rose to your full height and stood tall, gazing down a mountain at the whole of the Underworld.

You’d been deposited right on the front stoop of your mansion. Perched on the top of a small mountain, you could see everything from the front door.

At the far reaches of your kingdom, you could see the place where the Cocytus, the River of Wailing fed into the Acheron, the River of Woe, which stood as the border between the Mortal World and the Underworld. The far bank of the Acheron was crowded with souls waiting for passage over the water and the near bank was organized with lines leading up to and disappearing into the judgment pavilion. From the pavilion, three lines branched out and led to the three sections of the Underworld: the Asphodel Meadows, Elysium, and Tartarus.

The Asphodel Meadows spanned the majority of the large chasm that was your domain. The flowers swayed without a breeze, instead moved by spirits who wandered aimlessly. It was a place for those who had led ordinary lives, not good enough to achieve Elysium, but not evil enough to deserve Tartarus. The Meadows were as calm as calm could be, perfect for walking your dog or lazing around on a rare free day. Billions of spirits resided there, all of them calm, gentle, and ordinary.

Elysium, with its warm atmosphere, beautiful gardens, and elaborate homes sat just off to the side of the Meadows, its entrance near the base of your mountain. Sanctioned off by towering gates and walls, it lay separate from the rest of the Underworld. It was the place where the best of the best lived after death, filled with kind, generous, and beautiful souls. The souls that had been reborn and achieved Elysium three times lived on the Isles of the Blessed which were three little islands that sat in the middle of a lake in the heart of Elysium. You loved walking down the streets in Elysium. Everyone was so friendly and not a soul shied away from you. They had no reason to fear death; after all, they were already dead. Some of the spirits that had been there long enough were friendly enough to invite you for dinner on the occasional evening when they’d catch you patrolling the streets or walking Cerberus. Those were the nights you enjoyed the most. Mrs. Thomas made a fantastic roast chicken. It was truly a good place to be.

And then there was Tartarus; the “pit”. You shuddered just thinking about that place. It was where the evil souls went when they died, a place of torture, punishment, misery, and pain. It was mainly managed by three of your lieutenants known as “the Furies.” When they weren’t pursuing the wicked in the Mortal World, they were overseeing the torture of the worst of the worst deep in the pit. It lay just beyond the main body of your realm, accessible only through a cave that carved a hole in the outermost wall of the chasm that was the Underworld. The Phlegethon, the River of Fire, with its angry red flames that leaped out at anybody who dared get close to it, flowed into the tunnel taking up half of its opening. The river flowed deep until the point when the tunnel opened up to a cave. Dark, sharp stalactites hung from the cave’s ceiling, ready to fall at any second and impale those beneath them. There was a hole in the middle of the ground that seemed endless, but really, it fed into the real Tartarus. The river flowed into the pit, turning into a waterfall as it roared down. It was a long way down, said to be “as far beneath Hades as heaven is above earth” if you read that epic The Iliad from some Greek guy named Homer. It was about a nine days’ fall to reach the bottom of the pit where the souls were tortured and the worst beings were imprisoned.

You’d only been down there once, millennia ago, when you locked up the bastard you called “Father” and his brothers Crius, Iapetus, Coeus, and Hyperion, and you never wanted to go down again. It was nothing but red and angry. The Phlegethon was even more violent down there than it was in the main Underworld as it tore through the terrain. Tartarus itself was like a whole new world. It was seemingly endless, but it only had the one exit. One could get lost and be trapped there for eternity if they weren’t careful.

It was at the far reaches of the pit, farther than any soul or spirit dared to venture, that you imprisoned your father and uncles, binding them with the strongest chains you could make and sealing them with every spell, curse, and enchantment that you could think of. Layer upon layer of protection was placed upon them, making it nearly impossible for them to escape. You separated the five of them and placed them as far apart from each other as you could so that they could not feed on each other’s strength and escape. Your uncles, as formidable of foes as they were, were no threat to you anymore. They’d gone dormant after the first thousand years or so, reserved to their fates; but not your father.

Kronos continued to fight against his restraints, trying every day to escape, spending as much strength as he could muster to fight your barriers against him. Over the centuries he had succeeded in breaking some of them, specifically the old ones you had placed when you’d first imprisoned him. He was always chipping away at them, trying to weaken them enough to break free to exact his revenge on you and your sisters.

But you’d never let that happen. That was one of the reasons you made your weekly ventures to the edge of the pit. From up above, you could cast more spells to strengthen and set more layers on his bindings. Every week you added more and more to his cage, replacing those he broke, rejuvenating those he damaged, and adding new ones as an extra precaution.

Your sisters were fair to wonder why you didn’t let your inferiors or lieutenants take care of this task for you, but you had your reasons.

For the first couple of years that you guarded his prison, you did let some underlings take care of it. Peggy, your second in command, best friend, and the goddess of magic, volunteered to take care of it while you worked to get the Underworld under control and install order. She did a good job of keeping the spells strong and watertight, but she wasn’t infallible.

Your father, the extremely powerful titan that he is, found ways to let his conscience escape and make its way up to the surface. He would get into her head and anyone else who got close and twist their thoughts around, slowly turning them to his side and against the gods.

It took you a decade to notice that Peggy was under his control. You’d had your suspicions that she wasn’t herself, but it was when she tried to pull a knife on you and slit your throat that your suspicions were confirmed. It broke your heart to have Cerberus restrain her while you reached into her head and yanked Kronos out. Her screams still haunt you to this day.

But from that day on, while Peggy was recovering, it was you that took care of the cage. That was how it should’ve been in the beginning, but you’d let her take on that responsibility for you. Never again would you subject another being to that. You did not know what it was like to have him in your head, but you had an idea of what it was like in his, and you couldn’t bear inflicting that kind of pain again. So, in addition to making frequent check-ups on the men and women who worked for you to make sure there wasn’t any trace of his influence, you took it upon yourself to personally deal with strengthening his prison every week.

Which was what you had to do right now.

With a heavy sigh, you turned back to look at your mansion and whistled.

At once, a crash, bang, thud, and whimper broke the silence and you could see a large black mass barreling at you from inside the house. The hulking figure shot through a wide doggy door just to the side of your front door and charged at you.

Your entire face lit up with a laugh as Cerberus attacked you, jumping up to place his paws on your chest so he could have easy access to lick your face. Thankfully he was in his small form so there was only one head trying to lovingly maul you. If he had been full-sized, you’d have an issue.

At his full height, Cerberus was as tall as your mountain in the Underworld, with three large heads that could see almost everything. When he wasn’t around you in his small size, he’d stand at the gates of the Underworld, guarding the borders and making sure that the rogue spirits didn’t escape. He seemed ferocious and scary because he closely resembled a large black wolf with deep red eyes, but he was really a gentle giant and your metaphorical baby.

You lifted your head up to avoid his eager tongue, instead allowing him to attack your neck as your laughter rang out in the still air. “Cerberus! Down, boy! Down! Yes, it’s good to see you too.” Once you’d gotten him calmed down, you crouched so you were at his eye level and scratched him behind the ears. “Who’s a good boy?”

He barked as if to say, “Me! Me! I am!”

You simply grinned at him and leaned forward to press your forehead to his, a common gesture of affection for you with him. “I’ve gotta go make sure Father hasn’t done anything stupid in a week, you wanna come with me?”

As if it was even a question. Cerberus always accompanied you on your trips, acting as a good guard dog to protect you from some of the spirits that dwelled on the pit’s edges—not that you really needed it, you just loved his company.

“Let’s go.” You straightened up and started to walk down the mountain path.

Cerberus kept perfect pace with you. He knew the way almost as well as you did.

Down the mountain and through the Asphodel Meadows. Cross the Meadows to the Phlegethon and follow the river to the mouth of the cave. Then it was a straight shot into the pit where you could cast your spells. Simple, easy, quick.

You knew the way by heart, not even bothering to look up as you went. Asphodel flowers crunched under your flats as you crossed the Meadows and spirits parted for you to get through; not that they needed to, they were just being polite.

You and Cerberus strolled through the Meadows, coming up to the Phlegethon and following it towards Tartarus.

You had to force your feet to walk as you got closer, a sense of unparalleled dread washing over you. Shivers crept down your spine and the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. Tartarus was always a daunting place, but today it almost seemed… more so. And as soon as you took one step into the entrance, you knew that something was seriously wrong.

You stopped short, your feet planted into the ground. Your stomach dropped and every warning alarm you had was going off in your head.

Cerberus had frozen, his ears flattened against his head and his lips pulled back in a snarl. His whole body was positioned to pounce at the drop of a hat.

You rolled your shoulders back and narrowed your eyes. The world began to tint red at the edges, the color slowly creeping in to cover your entire vision. With this new sight, you could see deeper into the tunnel where you saw figures writhing closer and closer to the pit. Something was in the cave, something that didn’t belong.

You grit your teeth and nodded your head towards Cerberus. “Go get Aunt Peggy,” you commanded in a low voice.

He didn’t need to be told twice and took off running as soon as the words left your lips.

You didn’t take your eyes off the mouth of the cave as you extended your hand, calling forth into being your weapon: a sleek black bident that was as tall as you were. Forged for you by the cyclopes millennia ago when you first fought your father, your vibranium bident was a formidable weapon. It was a lot like your sister’s trident, but with two prongs instead of three that branched out from the spear at the height of your chin. Your bident was your primary weapon used for fighting. It allowed you to manipulate spirits and channel magic, morph terrain, and wield the energy of the Underworld, among other things. Plus it was good for stabbing.

You tightened your grip around the bident’s shaft and lifted it off the ground, moving slowly into the cave. Your feet never made a sound as you stepped closer and closer to the writhing mass. As you neared the souls, your fingers began to turn white with how tight you were holding your weapon, raising it to strike at any second. You were prepared to fight off a small militia of evil souls trying to escape, but what you found when you reached them was not a coup preparing to strike.

No, the souls were, instead, swarming around a figure.

You muscled your way in through the crowd, using your bident to shove the spirits out of the way and dissipate them. You got to the center of their swarm and looked down. But instead of seeing an animal corpse or something of the likes, you saw something far more serious: a man.

The man seemed to be about your physical age, but you could tell almost right away from the aura he radiated that, like you, he was probably much older than he looked. His short dark hair was tousled and matted, no doubt from the spirits grabbing at it, and his clothes—what once seemed to be a pristine white shirt and jeans—were torn with claw marks and black with dirt. His shocking blue eyes stared up at the ceiling of the chasm, full of despair and hopelessness. He’d obviously started to lose hope that he’d ever escape the clutches of evil that held him tight.

You didn’t have much time to register who he was or what he was doing in Tartarus. You were just in shock that this man, this very alive man, had made it into your domain without you knowing. Your grip slackened and you stared down at him, surprise rising up in you with rage boiling up behind it as the only words you could manage to speak were, “Oh fuck.”

Next 2: He Becomes a Trespasser

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avenger-hawk · 3 years

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Hey hawk, did you observe a pattern among people who participate in Woke-ism culture, they seem to have similar "traits" and "personality"? Dislike the "straight" orientation (usually identify themselves as gay/lesbian/bi and brags they are LGBT every second), they seem to think gender identity is a personality trait etc therefore "I'm holier than thou because I list myself as she/he/they/it". I bet they are gonna scream at me for being whatever "phobic" just because of this post lol

*clears throat* yeah they gonna scream at you but they can’t scream at me because it’s been a year that I am in an lgbt relationship soooo xD

Ofc I noticed this kind of behavior, these woke ppl really like be ‘different’ and tbh the thing I find more irritating is when they define themselves ‘autistic’ or ‘asperger’ or ‘adhd’ whathever other mental illness/condition, because these are serious things that should be diagnosed by a specialist and not an online tests, and usually ppl who have a real problem are not so incredibly vocal about it. Sure they don’t brag with it....”but I don’t have money to take a test and my parents don’t let me!” they say? yeah. could be. but it also could be that you just wanna look special and since you’re socially anxious or shy or just a b*tch, you like to play rude and then justify yourself with those labels, and if someone dares tell you you’re a piece of shit you can call them ableist lol

Same for race or country. Not taking anything away from populations/countries/cultures/religions that have been oppressed, but sometimes I cringe cause some ppl try so hard to fit in this. Like, at some point 99% of populations were invaded by others and oppressed, and I’m sorry for welsh ppl, to just name one (no offense it’s the first that came to my mind cause I read a post recently lol) but if this continues we’re gonna have to seek justice for the victims of the vikings’ raids lolol

Anyway, back to what you were saying. I partly get that lgbt ppl are vocal about what they are bc maybe they can’t tell their families or friends, and they use social media as outlets. but like you said, your personality is not defined by who you f*ck and/or love (It’s not even defined by the fiction you like, actually, but they think so). So while I understand ppl describe themselves in their profile and specify their gender identity and sexuality, for me it’s cringey when they take it too far. Like when they start with all the labels ever, or they make combinations...demisexual panromantic/asexual demiromantic/trans nonbinary aroace spectrum...sounds like a competition of who’s less ordinary. Bonus points if they also add race and illness. Bonus points if they pretend they’re experts and activist and they shit on ppl who ship something or speak of top/bottom bc they’re fetishizing gay mlm/wlw and how dare they, dirty cishets (cause Anon, straight is a too banal word lol).

(also...not to offend ‘aroace’ ppl out there but...when someone is like 12...couldn’t it be that they’re just...too young for caring about sex/love? asking for a friend lolol)

I mean, tumblr has a lot of lgbt ppl and it’s cool, and I know it’s hard to live as an lgbt person cause you can’t do what het ppl do normally, like kissing in public or holding hands or writing cute posts on fb bc someone might bitch or be even worse, so this creates a bitterness and aggressiveness on social media I guess, especially here where minorities are the majority lol. And I too, on my personal blog, occasionally ranted about things like internalized homophobia and queerbaiting, but only very rarely lol and no one paid attention to me, guess I am not lgbt enough hahahah

But, it’s stupid to use sexuality labels as a shield to shit on ppl and then call them --phobic when they react. It actually happened to me a couple of years ago, I wrote something about bottom Sasuke and this self defined aromantic+asexual+autistic+gay american dude attacked me for fetishizing gays. Back then I was in a relationship with a guy so for him I was only a boring straight person I guess, a gross fujoshi who dared like mlm haha. fuck him. If I were the same type of person as him I would have pulled the oppressed card, I could have attacked him reminding him that his country treated italian immigrants like animals, and that they had this veeeery big problem of being unsure about our ‘race’ so in their papers they often wrote ? cause they couldn’t understand if we were poc or not...but it would have been kinda off topic and I cartainly don’t waste time talking about me to ppl I don’t even trust to be what they say.

Also because I was raised by parents who were very politically involved, so I remember them doing activism, like, getting out of the house, going to protests, doing volunteering, even taking me along when I was little. So even tho now everything happens online first, and even tho posts can spread awareness and change ppl’s minds, I still don’t trust when I see those blogs full of angry woke activism, because they seem fake and even those ppl seem fake. It’s easy to scream for justice from a keyboard, in a comfortable house. It’s less easy to protest in the cold, risking to have problems with the police, the government, the pandemic, whatever else.

It’s irritating that wokies want to take the right to like smth in the right way or whatever, telling everyone else who don’t fit in the minority group that they can’t like the thing. Idk, I just wish ppl were like in Eastern Asian fandoms, not making everything about themselves, being open minded enough for whatever ‘different’ thing whether they are into it or not, and if they’re not ignoring it only.

And I do get wanting to fit the minority, as a teenager I was veery punk/gothic, depending on the moment, and I never fit in the majority opinions or habits anyway. And I was kind of fluid with my identity and sexuality, but silly me, I kept it for myself, even tho I discussed with those who insulted lgbt ppl and I wrote stuff where everyone is bisexual by default, thinking that it was how people were born before society conditioned them...I could have bragged but I had no idea about ‘fluid’ or ‘pan’, silly me.

I am so irritated at everything, like the words they use, even the english language that is not mine, is getting on my nerves because it’s the vehicle for their crap, but these periodically trending words are disgusting like these ppl to me.

I migth have gone out of topic again lol.

#replies &co #fanon and fandom stuff #kinda #lol this gonna make me lose followers #couldn't care less I hate fake ppl #Anonymous

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zwritestuff · 3 years

Text

Some Things Are Bound To Be (Chapter Seven) - Kyara

A/N: I'M SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT, I've been going crazy with school, but I'm almost free, and true to my fashion, I wrote this instead of sleeping 😌 It's fine, I'm fine. Hopefully y'all like the chapter, thanks to Emerald ( @fromthenorthernskies ) for beta-ing! We're nearing the end, but these dumbasses still can't figure their shit out.

Read on AO3.

***

Priyanka doesn’t slap her when she tells her, though she wants to. Badly.

“You stupid bitch,” she exclaims, invading her personal space as she leans foward, mouth agape. Kyne doesn’t know if she should laugh or push her away, so she does the next logical thing and shoves Priyanka off, reaching for the bowl of chips. “You like her, but you’re gonna break up with her? Kyne, what the fuck.”

Kyne cringes only a little, partially because she’s sure even the people from the other building are able to hear Priyanka’s annoyed yell, and she knew this would be her reaction the moment the words left her mouth. The moment she had gotten that message from Kiara, she knew their scheme was bound to end—what else could she possibly want to talk about? Not the weather, obviously and not-- not Kyne’s stupid fantasy of a love confession, definitely not that.

So, only one option was left, and the clearest one at that. Kyne couldn’t bear the anticipation pooling at the pit of her stomach, so she did the next logical thing and invited Priyanka over, otherwise she would’ve ended up without nails by Monday.

She sighs a little, not letting the defeat show in her face.

“Not everything has a happy ending, Pri. And, y’know, we could still be friends, I guess.” Kyne shrugs, taking a mouthful of chips, and Priyanka knits her brows in a frown, silent for a moment too long. Kyne tenses.

Oh no. Priyanka, silent? Something is coming. Most likely, something Kyne won’t like to hear.

“No,” Priyanka finally says, quizzically. Kyne cocks a brow, setting the chips bowl back on the coffee table.

“No?” She repeats.

Priyanka gives her a look; not a fiery one, like she always has when she’s about to give her a heartfelt speech when she feels like she might need one. No. It’s hard to put a finger on the emotion she’s looking at her with, but it’s neither pity nor concern—it might just be easier to call it a Priyanka-esque look.

“No, this isn’t like you at all,” she says, folding her arms, an accusatory tone dripping from her tongue. Ah, shit. Not another pep-tak. “Fuck, if you were to tell me years ago that Kyne, the one bitch that stuck up to fucking Professor Brooke Lynn Hytes back in college, because she knew she had graded her papers wrong, would even think of giving up on a girl she likes, just because she might get in trouble with her parents I woud tell you to fuck right off, because that’s not my friend. Not at all.”

Kyne groans, rolls her eyes and grabs the nearest pillow to smash her head against. It annoys her that Priyanka is right, again. She hasn’t let her live down the fact she had to tell her she liked Kiara for her to realize, to begin with. And she’s convinced she’s never going to hear the end of it when--

--when there’s a pat on her head, and a heavy sigh.

She looks up and sees Priyanka, gazing at her with a more understanding gaze. She doesn’t look like she wants to strangle her—not for now, at least.

“You should tell her, y’know,” she says, with a tone that conveys she knows she’s right. Kyne knows she is, and she hates it. Priyanka might be stupid sometimes, but she’s stupidly cunning—for important things, anyway. And this, Kyne thinks, she’s deemed important.

So she just avoids her gaze, fidgeting with her hands. “But what if it’s not mutual? What do I do then? She’ll think I only accepted to be her fake girlfriend to use her.” She chews the inside of her cheek. It had been more than a recurring thought ever since she realized her feelings for Kiara, and more than once it had slipped through her mind. The idea that Kiara would just straight up stop talking to her if she thought she’d been used this whole time. That, or she would be fired on the spot.

(Bo’s words still run through her mind every so often, and it’s becoming rarer and far in between the times when she lets Kiara touch her in any way. Because if she does, Kyne’s not sure if she would be able to hold back.)

Priyanka groans, pulling and pinching the skin under her eyes. “God, I know you’re-- that we are lesbians, but god damn, not even I am this useless, and I’ve been pining for Kiara’s secretary for months now!”

“You’ve been pining for Lena?” Kyne echoes, but Priyanka dismisses it with a wave of her hand.

“Don’t change the topic, that’s my job, and I don’t wanna change it now. What I mean, is that Kiara definitely likes you, but you’re literally the last to know. Again.”

Kyne blinks, what Priyanka said not fully sinking in just yet. Then, she bushes furiously, much like the first time, and shoves Priyanka.

“No she doesn’t.”

“Oh my God, I will actually murder you one of these days.” Priyanka pinches the bridge of her nose, and then looks at her with a tired expression. “Yes, she fucking does. You literally spend all your time with her, and you haven’t picked up on the way she looks at you? I swear it’s the most stupid, lovey-dovey look I’ve ever seen, I’m disgusted just thinking about it,” she says, making faces and pulling her tongue out, and it really doesn’t help the blush that takes power in Kyne’s cheeks.

Dear Jesus, not another thing Priyanka had been able to pick up on her relationship with Kiara before her. She should get her a date with Lena, maybe that way she’ll stay out of her business.

But right now, there’s really no escaping Priyanka, since this is her own apartment, and she can’t kick her out at 1 a.m., so she sits through the scolding with an annoyed glare that Priyanka can’t care less about.

“Pri, stop, I get it; I’m dumb, blind, whatever. I know,” Kyne finally says, stopping Priyanka’s pointless rant about Kyne being the biggest useless lesbian she knows. She sighs heavily, knowing Priyanka won’t like what she’s about to hear. “And as much as I’d like to believe you, I don’t wanna risk my job, just because you’re delusional again.”

Priyanka yelps, slightly offended, and squints at her. “You know she can’t fire you just because, right?” She asks slowly, and Kyne scoffs. Of course she knows. But if she fired girls she slept with and no one batted an eye, then what are the odds she’ll be any different?

She tells Priyanka what Bo told her in big details, and she looks at her in disbelief.

“Fuck all the way off, that’s not true.”

Kyne cocks a brow, “How do you know?”

“Because Bo hates Kiara’s guts since her father fired one of her friends, but, like, they were on their right to fire her. She was purposely sabotaging projects, I think it was because her sister had married some dude owner of a rival company; the details are kinda blurry.” Priyanka folds her arms, an accusatory glance twinkles in her eyes, though it’s not directed at her, not really. “Didn’t you know? It’s all she talks about since you became closer with Kiara.”

Kyne blinks repeatedly, not really believing what she’s just heard. Priyanka’s stare is burning a hole through her, expecting an answer, but Kyne swears there’s white noise engulfing her, numbing her; the only thing she feels are her nails digging in her palms.

Bo lied to her? How could she? Even if she didn’t like Kiara, she had no right to lie to her; especially knowing full well she’d believe her. They were friends, after all.

Well, maybe tomorrow they won’t be.

“Why— why would she lie to me? I don’t get it.”

She knows Bo is as fiercely protective as she’s petty, holding grudges until she forgets why she was mad in the first place. But this? This is a low blow.

Priyanka shrugs, not really sure either. “I don’t know, girl, but she must have a good explanation. This doesn’t sound like her at all,” she offers, and Kyne desperately hopes she’s right.

She would never be able to forgive Bo for making her replace all the eagerness and comfort she felt around Kiara with panic and heightened fear of losing her job, every time their hands brushed and Kiara’s tentative fingers tried to reach for her.

Well, maybe she would, but it would take many apologies and a drink or three. Or maybe a whole bottle.

***

Monday morning comes around, and Kyne tries to not break the foam cup with Kiara's coffee with her tight grip, anxiety pooling in her stomach at the sole thought of what she's about to do.

Priyanka spent the entire night trying to convince her to just tell Kiara about her feelings, to woman up and rip the bandaid at once without much thinking. Kyne had finally relented only when they were about to fall fast asleep, and the alcohol was making the room spin ever so slightly, as she decided she didn't have anything to lose by telling Kiara of her feelings.

If she ended up losing her job, Priyanka had said she could hook her up with one of her cousins, a well-respected lawyer, so they could sue the Schatzis for all they had. Of course she wished they didn't have to go to that extreme, and even dared to dream of a movie-like moment.

Of course, dreams are a thing completely different in reality, she reminds herself of that when she lets herself in Kiara's office, briefly greeting Lena and sliding past her, who doesn't even give her much of a glance.

(At some point Lena stopped caring about her, even developed a sixth sense to know whenever she was around to not waste her time in telling her to wait a second so she could tell Kiara she was coming.)

Kiara is already scribbling something on a notepad, holding her phone to her ear with her other hand, and Kyne knows that by the scowl plastered on her face she should wait a second before saying anything.

But then she glances up, her expression easing up in a second as a smile blooms on her face, signaling her to sit down, doing silly faces when she points at the phone, and she wants to laugh stupidly loud because anything Kiara does she finds endearing, but they'll have time for that later.

“They were out of chocolate chips, so I brought you a blueberry muffin,” Kyne says once she hangs up, omitting the part of her knowing blueberry is her second favorite flavor, because she mentioned months ago and she never forgot. She can say that later, so she just passes her the paper bag with the muffin and her cup of coffee.

Kiara smiles at her, saying a polite thank you as she gives the muffin a bite, leaning back on her chair, looking already tired of work when it's barely starting.

There's silence for a moment too long, where they just eat and sip, but nothing lasts forever, so Kiara is the one to break it.

“I think you'll remember I wanted to talk about something,” she begins, and Kyne nods, prompting her to go on. She's too confident in what she's about to say, thinks they're on the same page.

Nothing prepares her for when Kiara leans forward, the smile all but gone and replaced with a neutral expression, and Kyne just knows something is bad. That this won't end like she wants.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” she continues, fidgeting with her rings, avoiding her gaze. When she locks eyes with her, there isn't any hint of the warmth and kindness is used to see in them. They're hollow, void of any emotion. Her throat closes up in anticipation. “And I think you're right, we should end this pretend relationship before it goes too far.”

Kyne blinks, once then twice, until she's awkwardly staring at Kiara, digging her nails in her palms.

Fuck, she thinks. And for a long second her mind is just a loop of the word fuck. This isn't even Kiara's doing, it's hers, her own words and actions came back to bite her in the ass, and there's no way she can blame Kiara for wanting to call it quits after she snapped at her.

Her plans are gone to waste, there's no way she can bring up the way she feels about her after this. It just wouldn't be right. So she does the next thing she knows best; she deflects.

“Well, I mean, do you think it's been enough time for people to not get suspicious?” She manages to stutter out, trying for the love of her dignity to not let the quiver in her voice give away the tears that are to come at some point.

Her nails dig in her palms further, probably drawing blood, when Kiara just shrugs. Like she doesn't care. And it stings like a bitch.

“Does it matter? For all I know, we've done more than enough. I think it's a good time to stop before-- it's just the time.” Kiara clears her throat, and Kyne wants to ask before what, before she falls even more in love with her, if that's even possible?

So she inhales sharply, taking a long sip from her coffee, finishing it all in one motion, and tries to not let it show in her expression how much it actually affects her.

“For all I know, I really liked being your fake-girlfriend,” she confesses, and it's not really a lie, but it isn't the entire truth. Kyne did like every second of it, even if at the beginning her mind was clouded with anxiety and fears, she liked having lunch with her and spending time together outside work hours, liked when she laughed so hard she ran out of air, and her nose scrunched up and she made a weird sound that she said she was ashamed of. She liked when she'd absent-mindlessly run her hands through her hair when they were watching a movie together, and it would send shivers down her spine.

(And Kiara, she just likes all about Kiara. She likes Kiara.)

It’s just that, for a fleeting moment, she hoped they could be real, that even if Priyanka was wrong and Kiara didn’t like her back, she could grow to like her.

Maybe she could’ve loved her if she had been given the chance. Maybe she could’ve loved her either way, if she had been given more time. Maybe she could’ve loved her.

(She could’ve.)

“You can keep my cupcake, I'm not hungry,” Kyne says, giving her a smile, one that doesn’t reach her eyes, one that probably looks forced and not at all real, but she can’t be bothered right now. Not when she feels her heart ache and a lump in her throat prevents her from speaking.

Kiara just blinks, about to say something else when Kyne leaves without saying anything; she knows the second she opens her mouth, a choked sob would come out.

In exchange, Kiara doesn’t say anything to her for the rest of the day, and the day becomes the week, and it stings deeply in Kyne’s chest. She was so close to saying it, to stop letting the words linger in the air and manifest them.

But it’s over now. So suddenly and abruptly, and it's all her fault.

Kyne supposses it’s her own fault for not being honest sooner, for letting the lies numb her good judgement. She knew Kiara, it was impossible that she was capable of any of the things Bo said she did were true, and yet—

She shakes her head, trying to concentrate on her job.

Kiara not talking to her isn't the end of the world she thinks it is, even if it feels like it. She'll eventually get over it, find someone new and forget she ever felt something for her.

But God, it's easier said than done, when she sees her every day around the company, and for once she knows where the rumours of her being cold hearted come from; she doesn't see her crack a smile once. Not even the tiniest smirk, and if Kyne didn't know better she'd say the two women she's always hanging out with look at her when she passes by with an annoyed glance.

Kyne wants the earth to open and swallow her whole.

By the second week of silence, she catches Kiara's glance on her way to a meeting by pure chance; she's looking at Bo, who's telling her about this guy from Tinder she's been seeing, just when Kiara is coming out from another office. Their eyes meet for a fleeting moment, and it digs a deeper hole in her chest when she finds they're still void of any emotion.

Fuck, she misses her so much. Kyne swears she could cry right there and then if she didn't have to speak at a stupid budget meeting for a new project.

“So is it true?” Bo says enigmatically, and Kyne cocks a brow.

“What?”

“That you and Miss Bitch Heiress broke up.” She stops in her tracks, shit, news fly fast, don't they? Bo gives her a pitiful smile and a pat on the shoulder, but Kyne swats her hand away.

“Don't act like you didn't want this to happen,” she snarls, resuming her walk. She hasn't brought up that she knows she lied to her, because that implies reminding herself how much she royally fucked up, so she's been avoiding it. Kyne sure has a talent for avoiding her problems until they blow up in her face.

“Well, I sure as hell didn't want you getting hurt because of her,” Bo tries to defend herself, but Kyne just rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, sure,” she merely replies, not looking at her, hurrying her steps, feeling a lump growing in her throat by the second.

It bottles up, like it always does, even though she promised Priyanka she'd try to let it out. The thing is, as much as Kyne knows she can trust Priyanka, it's not like she isn't constantly worried of being a burden with her feelings ever since Kiara called their pretend relationship quits, so she tries to limit the amount of things she tells Priyanka.

She doesn't tell her she barely sleeps, that she can't see cupcakes without feeling nauseous, that she picks up her pace when she walks by the restaurant she took Kiara to for the first time - that she's even contemplated burning the damn dress she bought her. That it pains her to look at it every time she opens her closet and sees it hanging there, among her other clothes, because it sticks as a sore thumb out and it reminds her of how happy she was that night with her.

It all bottles up, and admittedly, she should've known better than to drink her feelings away.

It's Friday night, and they're at a new bar that opened around Scarlett's place. She's actually put effort in her appearance, curling her hair and picking one of her prettiest dresses, done her best eyeshadow in ages—and yet, no amount of tequila shots can fill up the void she feels in her chest.

She ends up crying and admitting how she really feels when she accompanies Priyanka outside for a quick smoke that turns into a full therapy session. Or well, something akin to it.

“I miss her,” Kyne cries out, Priyanka wipes the tears away before the rimmel ruins her whole face.

“I know,” she replies simply.

“Shit, should I call her now and tell her everything?” Priyanka groans, visibly cringing.

“Baby, gimme your phone, you’re not calling anyone at three a.m. unless it’s an Uber,” she says, reaching to grab Kyne’s phone, and for a drunk person she’s far too quick to move her hand away.

“But--”

“Listen, bitch, you know I love talking and giving pep talks,” Priyanka cuts her off, “But, I am sure you would forget it by the morning, so we’re not having this conversation right now.”

Kyne rolls her eyes, folding her arms; why Priyanka has to be right even when both are one shot away from being drunk out of their minds? It’s not fair.

“So, now that’s sorted out,” she says, stomping on her cigarette, “We’re going home bitch, I can’t have you following me around the bar looking like a raccoon,” Priyanka speaks matter-of-factly, and Kyne gasps offended, swatting her arm. But she ends up giving in when she unlocks her phone and sees what her tears have done to her rimmel.

They go back inside to find the others to tell them that they’re leaving, and Kyne doesn’t have time to think of an excuse to give Scarlett as to why her eyes look puffy when Priyanka tells them what happened. Scarlett immediately coos and wraps her in a clumsy hug, saying how sorry she is, that she looked so happy with Kiara, she never would’ve imagined it would end so soon.

“Bobo, shut the fuck up before I cry again,” she warns, half-jokingly, half-serious. Scarlett lets her go, but a decided look settles on their face.

“Fuck no bitch, you need us now; we’re all goin’ back to my place, and we’re not lettin’ you go to sleep until you crack a smile-- and stop lookin’ like a damn raccoon.”

“I don’t look like a raccoon!” Kyne yelps, offended.

“Yes, you do,” Bo pipes up, and Kyne grumbles while her friends laugh at her expense.

So, they make their way back to Scarlett’s apartment, arms linked as they talk about anything that comes up to their minds to distract Kyne. And it works, she laughs until her stomach hurts, and tears pool at the corner of her eyes, except they’re not sad tears this time, and she feels so grateful for her friends as she kicks off her shoes, and Scarlett drags Priyanka to help them re-arrange things in her room to fit everyone.

She’s left alone with Bo, who’s been rather silent towards her these past days. Kyne knows why, but she isn’t sure right now it’s the time to bring it up.

Of course, nothing ever goes like she wants it to, so Bo clears her throat before speaking.

“Kyne, listen, I have something to tell you--”

“I know,” Kyne cuts her off, not wanting to deal with this right now. “Priyanka, she told me you hate Kiara. She told me why, she told me everything.” She meets Bo’s gaze, and it hurts her only a little when she sees the regret in her expression. Her petty side is stronger when she’s drunk.

Bo inhales sharply before speaking, “Yeah, I know. Priyanka scolded me about it when you refused to go out for lunch with us for the third time in a row,” she admits, toying with the hem of her shirt. “Listen, I didn’t mean for this to happen, I was trying to look out for you so you wouldn’t get hurt, but--”

“But it happened either way,” Kyne finishes, sinking further into Scarlett’s couch. Bo sighs, sitting next to her.

“And I’m sorry about it, you really did look happy,” she muses quietly, giving her a pat on the shoulder. Kyne can’t be bothered to swat her away again. “I guess I never really forgot her for breaking my friend Abril’s heart.”

Kyne frowns, curious; Kiara never spoke of any Abril. “Is that your friend that sabotaged projects and shit?” She wonders, turning to look at her. Bo sighs heavily.

“Yup, the one and only. She was Kiara’s friend from college, and she was the one that got her the job. I think they were dating at that point, I don’t remember well,” Bo recalls, trying to make sense of the blurry memories. In the end, she dismisses it with a wave of her hand. “Whatever. Now that I’m being honest, I wasn’t even sure the rumors about her sleeping around were true, I just believed them out of spite.”

She blinks repeatedly, not really believing what she’s hearing.

“So you feel bad for the girl that used Kiara and betrayed her trust, instead of feeling bad for the girl that got her reputation ruined before she actually started working at the company?” Kyne says slowly, and Bo cringes at herself.

“When you put it like that it makes me sound like an asshole,” she complains, and Kyne almost snaps her optic nerve with the way she rolled her eyes.

She’s over this discussion already, and she’s not really sure what did she gain out of it; closure, maybe? Whatever it is, she decides she’ll think this new information through when she’s more sober—and her face doesn’t itch with the ruined foundation. So she just stands up and asks Bo if she’s going to take her make-up off, and Bo follows her to the bathroom without saying anything.

Later on, when Priyanka and Scarlett are done scattering blankets and pillows on the ground, she’s able to sleep peacefully for what feels like the first time in years. Maybe she should keep this in mind for the next time a rich girl breaks her heart; there isn’t a better way to sleep than using Scarlett as a pillow, while Priyanka is sprawled over her and, ironically enough, butting heads with Bo.

***

Another Monday comes around, and Priyanka has decided to put the non-sense to an end. She solemnly walks up to Rita Baga’s office, saying to Tynomi that she has important business stuff to discuss with her. Yes, like that.

Tynomi side-eyes her, but ends up letting her in, anyway. It’s still early and she knows for a fact Rita doesn’t have anything important until ten a.m., so she sends Priyanka in.

Rita looks as imponent as she always does, and the way she quirks her eyebrow at Priyanka absolutely does not intimidate her.

Fine, maybe a little.

“How can I help you, miss…?” She squints, and only then Priyanka remembers she’s never properly talked with her.

“My name’s Priyanka, and you can help me by listening to me and then talking some sense into your friend,” she says, and Rita cocks her head, furrowing her brow. Okay, maybe she should be more specific. “I’m Kyne’s best friend, and if my instinct is right, Kiara is as sad for their break up as her. Which is why I need your help; you see, my idiot is convinced your idiot hates her, but I know better than that, so if you’d help me to push them to talk things out, I will be eternally grateful.”

Should she be calling Kiara an idiot in front of her friend and fellow CEO? Probably not, but anyway, what’s done is done.

Rita goes from confused to surprised, to confused again. She clears her throat before speaking, “I’m sorry, I thought Kyne was the one that wanted to end things…?”

“Oh, it’s a bit of a complicated situation, but I assure you, she absolutely regrets snapping at Kiara.”

They stare at each other for a long second, before Rita finally reaches for her phone and calls up her secretary.

“Tynomi, would you mind coming in for a minute? We have a bit of a problem.”

#my fanfiction #rpdr fanfiction #kyara #online kyne #kyne #kiara schatzi #priyanka love #scarlett bobo #boa #rita baga #tynomi banks #fake dating au #some things are bound to be fic

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kinetic-elaboration · 3 years

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September 10: Friday

I just had this feeling this morning like I didn’t want to go to work and eh... that was probably right. Nothing really bad happened, I just felt very strongly that I did NOT want to be there.

My coworker wanted to talk to me at like 8:30 in the morning (you know those silly little ‘don’t talk to me before I’ve had my coffee’ signs?? literally do not talk to me before 9:30 EARLIEST) and I was supremely incoherent. Then later a different coworker essentially took out his bad mood on my department including on me personally, and it was... dumb. I got his point but I’m just, as I tried to explain to others later, unkeen on being talked to about actions I took under others’ explicit instructions. Also, in part because of that, in part because I thought he was semi-unreasonable, and in part because I just truly didn’t want to do what he was asking/telling me to do, I did not really budge on the issue. Which was very awkward because as I said I did get his point. And of course the issue is SOMETHING DUMB which is always how it is. All of these fights are 100% shit that would sound idiotic if you tried to explain it to someone else, which is why I’m vaguing right now.

And the nametags thing came up on Teams (thanks @ the same coworker), and the only good thing about that is that the director explicitly said she was against the idea so I feel pretty confident that it won’t be mandated. Also I could detect some panic in other people about it. I do NOT like the way this is being handled AT ALL. Plus it’s just the hill I’ve decided to die on (because I think I can win--so I guess it’s better to say this is the hill I’m going to defeat my enemies on) so I gotta get annoyed at it. I refrained from contributing to the conversation but I did like the director’s anti-nametag post, which I think gets my point across.

Also I felt like I spent a lot of time doing not much, to be honest. Still didn’t go to stupid compact shelving. Devoted too much time to the crap in the above paragraphs. Talked to BL over in admin and heard some more unflattering stories about a particular administrator. Like, incredibly unflattering. Which is stuff I do want to know but it contributes to the overall Mood of the day, which again is ‘I don’t want to be here.’

I took a very late lunch, and that in turn contributed to me not paying enough attention to the time and leaving late.OH AND I got 3 important emails in the last ten minutes of the day. Two were very expected because they were coming from the West Coast but the last was like.. do not make me deal with this right now.

I didn’t deal with almost any of it but I did get so distracted that I left about five minutes late, and so I missed the bus. I wasn’t too upset about it since the weather was nice anyway and I didn’t mind spending some time downtown. But I did waste time trying to see if I could catch said bus, and then more time trying to go to my favorite coffee shop, which had closed at 5. But since it was 5:15, there were still people inside (cleaning up, which is fair) and people outside (drinking coffees they’d bought before 5 I’m sure, also fair), and the sign said hours were until 7 so I spent a few confused, embarrassing moments going ????? what is the truth?

So ultimately I went to a different cafe, a newish one that opened in 2019 I think. I’ve always avoided it in part because the floor is very loud and in part because I felt like I was cheating on my main place lol. (Not that I never get coffee anywhere else... just that this place is so close to my usual place, I always feel like, if I’m in the area, I might as well go to said usual place.) I did find the inside very disorienting. The pattern of the floor is just truly A Lot. They did have these weird teacup ornaments hanging from the ceiling though. I got an iced latte, which was fine, and this delicious spinach and feta pastry. I feel like I should stop by more often for baked goods. I settled outside with what I’d gotten, mostly because of the floor, partly because it actually was nice out, and partly because I’m not currently comfortable with indoor dining, even in places with almost no one in them.

I only had like 25 minutes to kill at that point, but it was nice. I had a notebook with me and I did a teeny bit of planning on the Southern Gothic AU (still behind on this!!). Mostly I listened to the conversation next to me. I couldn’t entirely help it; the girl’s voice was carrying. She was talking to her guy friend about some recent issues they’d been having in their friendship. I was honestly...kind of impressed with them? I could mostly hear her--he was talking too but his voice didn’t carry as much--but it just overall sounded like a really open, emotionally honest, generally calm talk. Like certainly there were strong emotions in play (not exactly going to judge whether they were “warranted” given the apparent facts of the dispute, since I just ranted about a disagreement over something so dumb I don’t even want to name it in public) but they were just... expressing feelings that were difficult, and expressing displeasure with others’ actions, without yelling or being passive aggressive, etc. I mean even that they’d picked this time and place to meet specifically to discuss it I thought was commendable. And they were definitely friends, not bf/gf, because the disagreement involved his girlfriend (once referred to as his “partner”...sorry lol I judged that a LITTLE since they looked like they were maybe 21 years old--partner in WHAT??). The girl mentioned her therapist, which put a lot of her tone and vocabulary into perspective. Not necessarily in a bad way, I mean, it seemed to be working? But as someone who has never been to therapy, but is self-taught, so to speak, in gauging and describing my own feelings, I could... discern a sort of purposeful vocabulary that almost sounded scripted. I wrote down some specific quotes but I don’t want to put them in a public place. I’ll draw my respecting-strangers’-privacy line in the sand there. But a lot of, like “when you do x, it makes me feel y” kind of controlled explanations.

Anyway, I got very invested in that. Partly for future writing purposes, partly out of curiosity and partly because... I don’t know that I could have that kind of conversation NOW and I’m fairly sure I could not have when I was in college. I mean.... I don’t know... I’ve blocked out a lot of the pretentious/serious/about-our-feelings talks I did have. And what sticks out now are all the times I didn’t do that--all of the many, many issues with TA38... Even the way B and I have literally NEVER acknowledged the handful of times we hooked up in 2009.

You’re never gonna sound COOL talking about your emotions, your wants and your needs; it’s always gonna sound, imo, like a Therapy Script. And I don’t even always think you gotta have those talks. After graduation, R and I literally had this exchange where we said ‘well we both made mistakes last year, and we could try to untangle it now, but it’s just gonna bring up a lot of bad feelings. It’s done now anyway. Blanket apologies given, blanket acceptance of apologies, let’s move on.” And we did and it was fine. But if we’d had better conversations while we were living together, that would have been a different situation.

All of which is of course complicated for me personally because I am extremely conflict-averse. EXTREMELY.

Anyway, I ran into BL at the bus stop and we talked a bit there and on the bus, which was fine but kinda exhausting tbqh especially because of the topic of conversation. I got home at 6:30 and must have crawled immediately into bed and gone to sleep, but I barely remember it at all. Woke up at 10:30 and had no idea what time it was or what day it was or what I was doing.

Had dinner and then somehow went down a rabbit hole that started... somewhere?? and ended with me looking up my childhood home on Google Earth, which you KNOW is the sign of a mentally stable person who is doing just fine okay.

Now it’s the absolutely disgusting hour of 2:30 in the morning... Idk I wanted to go out tomorrow and take advantage of the nice weather but we’ll see how that goes. The thing is I feel like I need a full day to sleep but I only have two (2) days and in that time I gotta do laundry, cook for the week, preferably write one (1) whole chapter of this fic, and possibly also go on the aforementioned excursion. Which is a lot for me. It doesn’t really... fit.

Everything’s just so much all the time and so on.

#the year 2021 #2021: rl #real dear diary moment here

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mochi-marie · 3 years

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May I have a bnha match up please? I’m 18, female, bisexual, an infp and an Pisces/Aquarius cusp. I’m 5’2 and on the chubby side. I have curly, dirty blonde hair that’s medium length, pale skin, and dark blue eyes. I have a nose stud and 4 stick and pokes. 1 on each wrist and 1 on each ankle. At first I can come off as an asshole with my resting bitch face and I don’t talk much (deadass been asked if I was a mute before). In reality I’m just really awkward and kinda shy as hell. It takes me awhile to grow connections with people but once I do I go crazy go stupid. I love joking around with a dark or really stupid sense of humor and being dumb with my friends. However I’m also down to have deep conversations and just chill out. I also know when to be serious when it’s needed. I would say that I’m pretty protective over my friends too and I can get affectionate with them. I will admit though that I do have some anger issues and that I get be really moody, basically a hot head. I have a hard time expressing my emotions, so I usually mask things away by acting silly or shutting down. Sometimes I’m really do be drinking that dumb bitch juice too (I’m kinda dense most of the time). I enjoy napping, baking(I’ve got a huge sweet tooth), fashion (goth fashion is my jam), drawing, reading, skateboarding, playing video games, listening to music (rock, alternative, and sometimes k-pop), and watching true crime and horror related stuff(I absolutely love horror and occult stuff). I have a fear of public speaking, heights. abandonment, and hospitals. What I look for in a partner is some who knows how to be serious when they need to me, yet knows when to be silly and fun when they can be too. I like someone who’s open and honest with me and someone that shows physical affection. And someone who’s down to go shopping at the mall one day, take late night walks the next, and is down to to just chill out at home and cuddle sometimes. Thank you in advance <3

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀: thank you so much for the request, i actually had a lot of fun writing this! extra note, you had mentioned you were bisexual but never mentioned anything about which gender you would prefer to receive for this match-up, so i just chose the character i think would truly go well with you most! but i did have a hard time choosing between them and keigo takami aka hawks -- anyways, sorry for the rant, i hope you enjoy!

𝗝𝗜𝗥𝗢 𝗞𝗬𝗢𝗞𝗔

♡ . . . REASONINGS : after reading your ask, i have came to the conclusion that you would be best shipped with, in my personal opinion, jiro kyoka!

for starters, you both have a similar vibe that i feel might be needed to make this relationship work out very well! jiro will most certainly love your sense of style because it resembles a style she herself is interested in, even though she herself doesn't dress in the goth style, as she ( in my opinion ) may grow to take on a more grunge type of fashion. your styles coincide nicely, and your outward appearance doesn't really bother her or make her want to turn away -- truthfully, she might be more interested instead, hoping you may understand her better and understand her approach to things better than others. jiro might actually enjoy your type of humor, as well as conversations with you! the deepness or stupid-nature of the conversation will always leave her mind running wild with thoughts trailing back to you, whether thinking about herself and things around her, or simply thinking of a dumb joke you had said that made her want to snort with laughter. jiro may not be the best with words when it comes to romance or relationships, but physical affection she can easily do with red cheeks and small sounds of embarrassment and a bashful, bright look on her face that tells you more than words could ever say. your looseness around her might be able to break her shell a bit more than most people, allowing herself to be free-er and more relaxed around you. by nature i think jiro might have a chill personality with strong opinions on topics, and once you get her ranting there's very few things that can make her stop; but i believe that she will find herself laughing more around your comforting presence, grabbing your hand grows easier and easier for her ( instead of her usual nudging of your fingers and shy nod of her head when you ask if she wants to hold your hand ).

𝗥𝗘𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗣 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗-𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗡𝗦

♡ . . . due to your love of horror movies and true crime documentaries, you have probably managed to steel her nerves, as well as get her genuinely hooked on the shows you two watch together.

♡ . . . teaching her to skateboard. she had seen you skateboard, and was immediately interested ( despite how hard she tried to hide that at first ).

♡ . . . in my opinion, i don't think that she would be all too interested in video games, but i think from time to time she might settle down next to you and watch you play your games, but end up sitting there for hours watching you until nightfall and she realizes how much time has passed.

♡ . . . any of the ideal dates you had mentioned would work for jiro -- she strikes me as someone who can pretty much adapt to anything, and have a wide variety for a "picture perfect" day out with the one she loves.

𝗥𝗘𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗣 𝗠𝗢𝗢𝗗𝗕𝗢𝗔𝗥𝗗

𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗣𝗢𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗕𝗟𝗘 𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗜𝗗𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗦

♡ . . . iida tenya, shinsou hitoshi, kaminari denki

#⚓️ — matches

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maisstories · 4 years

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I Need Your Help

To be more precise, my girlfriend needs your help. The reason I am the one writing this text is because right now she is so depressed and discouraged that she doesn’t have the strength to believe asking for help would make a difference, and that… that terrifies me.

For those who don’t know us, I am Mai, and my girlfriend is Kari. Under different circumstances, we should have our lives all nicely sorted out, but as we are all aware, we live in the kind of dystopian world society at large likes to pretend only happens in fiction. Especially Kari. You see, I’m from Spain, and Kari is from the US. This means an entire ocean separates us (otherwise I would’ve bundled her up and brought her home, believe me).

Kari is a poor wlw who lives in a very conservative area (as in, Bible Belt conservative). She has ADHD, which went untreated most of her life, hampering her at every turn. First, because she grew up in a very conservative Catholic family and most Catholic families just Don’t Believe in Those Things. Now… well, now because she has no medical insurance and can’t afford to pay for medication. Cute, isn’t it? And that’s not even the best part. Kari has depression, that I mentioned, but this whole situation, and the hopelessness it causes her, has brought forth suicidal ideation. I don’t have the words to express just how scared I am by this. It paralyzes me. There is nothing, physically nothing I can do if they ever get the better of her.

To add to this, it has been made abundantly clear to Kari that her parents won’t help her if she becomes homeless. They didn’t want a child to begin with. A gay child? Yeah, no, forget about it.

(On a bit of a bright note, Kari has two adopted cats, which are the cutest fur balls over. They’re her closest emotional support most days, and I am very grateful for them. I can’t cuddle her or be physically there for her at all, but I can at least ask her to go cuddle them. They’re not even on the particularly scratchy side for cats).

Currently, Kari has a job, but despite taking on as many extra hours as possible, she cannot make enough money for rent. In fact, she cannot make many other basic necessities, which I will list here because they’re important, I am worried sick, and we really do need help:

-Work: Kari lost her previous job for one of those completely absurd, US-only reasons back in late October. I say absurd because any company trying to pull that shit here in Spain, and most likely anywhere in the European Union, would’ve been fined out of business. But hey, Country of Freedom and all that, isn’t it? She finally found a new job mid-November. Lower pay, though, which means it doesn’t help her cover full rent.

-Rent: As many people in the US will know, and others not from the US will have heard, rent outside of isolated areas is ridiculously expensive, especially for such a large and unpopulated country. The Wonders of Capitalism. As such, Kari is forced to pay a truly monstrous amount of money for a minuscule space to live in, one that ate up most of her previous salary and that surpasses her current one.

-Bills: Let’s not forget these. She rations. As much as she can. Electricity, water, internet… she goes for cheapest and least use, so far as to monitor her use of water during showers, but this still adds to her expenses.

-Food: Now’s where things get to a truly awful degree. When she moved to the place she lives in now (and if anyone wants the story that led to this move, please ask, because that’s an entirely other level of fucked up), she had to apply for food stamps, because she had barely no money left to feed herself and her two adopted cats after all the mandatory expenses. Food stamps people don’t look at the money you have left after bills, they just look at your income, so she was allotted $16. Useful, right? Anyway, fast forward to late October: Kari loses her job, so, obviously, one of the first things she does is contact the food stamps people to update her situation and have her allotment reevaluated. No response. Contact again. No response. This keeps going on. Mid-November, she gets a new job (still no response from the food stamps people despite the many attempts to contact them). Last Friday, her food supplies consisted of a bit of chicken, two fish fillets, and a couple eggs. I do not kid you. Today, the food stamp people finally answered her call: they won’t look into her case until, at least, December.

That’s it for the basics. As you see, it’s a wonderful situation.

Now, my role in this, as I’m sure some of you are wondering.

Let me start by saying this: I am a heavily disabled woman (nearly blind) living in an isolated area with the worst public transport system this side of the Mediterranean Sea. I am incapable of even getting out of home without assistance and someone to drive me at the moment. This means, having a job where I currently live is out of the question (I’m working on getting a job somewhere else where I’ll be able to live on my own. Sort of). My only source of income right now is my Patreon account, the earnings of which go fully to Kari because my girlfriend’s wellbeing matters to me much more than anything I could ever need for myself. I may say whatever I want about my parents’ belief that my relationship isn’t real because they don’t believe you can forge real connections through the internet (or the fact they want me to have a BOYfriend because they want grandchildren), but at least they’re so terrified I’ll break the moment I step outside on my own that they take good care of me.

Still, unfortunately, I’m only a writer, and a writer’s Patreon doesn’t make enough money to cover for such serious issues.

But Kari is the most important person in my life. I’m not exaggerating. I never thought I’d fall in love. I’ve always been the weird one out, the blind kid teachers coddled too much out of pity so other kids disliked and picked on, the one who was so odd that didn’t even fit with the weird kids in school. That happened everywhere, anywhere I went. Even in some fandom groups. It came to the point I stopped trying. It came to the point I thought once my parents died I wouldn’t have anyone. I’d stopped making plans for the future. There was no future for me.

And then I met Kari. She can make me smile with a silly gif and an obscure quote I thought no one else knew at 3am when I’m on the verge of tears because I feel trapped in my own house; she can get me excited about doing a joint cosplay in the distant future when I’d given up on cosplay years ago because I had no one who wanted to go to cons with me; she listens to my stupid history rants and even shows interest in them, when the most I’m used to getting are eye rolls and a change of topic.

Kari is the best that’s happened to me. Ever. And I want her to be happy. I want her to not have to worry about rent; I want her to be able to buy herself a chocolate bar because she feels like it without having to feel guilty for wasting the money. I want her to be able to live without the fear of being evicted every month, without having to worry about tomorrow’s meals because she ran out of food stamps and the fridge has only a can of soup left for the weekend. I want her to be able to go to the doctor when she’s sick and buy the medication she needs to get better.

But I don’t have the power to do this. Not now, not yet. So I’m asking you, everyone out there, to please help us. Help her.

And, I’m afraid, November is an awful month for Kari. Due to the late date at which she found her new job, she is missing a large chunk of rent. I’m doing everything in my power to gather money, and I ask —no, beg— you to help. Donate something, anything. Even if it is small, many small donations can make a difference.

Originally, we wanted to do a GoFundMe page with a three-month goal of 975 dollars to cover that period’s expenses (yes, guys, we’re missing about 500 this month. It’s that horrible), but every single crowdfunding website we have found works through bank accounts. Banks in the US are sharks; they tax you for not having enough income, for not having enough activity… Basically, if you’re poor in the US, you have to pay to have a bank account that will never have any money in it because the bank will eat it up. So, until we find an alternate crowdfunding site that allows to collect through paypal, we have set us several other safe forms through which you guys can donate to help Kari.

Paypal.Me: https://paypal.me/findyourwaycrafts

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/findyourway

Kari has a crafts store, because she is a fantastic artist (and you should totally check it out), with much stuff already on it and other stuff planned to come:

Store: https://findyourway.storenvy.com/

Store Tumblr: https://findyourwaycrafts.tumblr.com/

However, these things take time to take off, and we are running out of time in November. So please, please, help us cover the remainder of Kari’s rent for this month. Even if it’s just a dollar, three, five, a purchase of a necklace. Anything. Please, help us. Help Kari keep a roof over her head this Winter.

#help #signal boost #crowdfunding #fundraising #capitalism #solidarity #homelesness #long post #lgbtqa+#adhd #disability #usa #i know this is far from my usual stuff #but this is very important to me #kari is my beloved girlfriend and I'm terrified for her #please help her

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anhed-nia · 5 years

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BLOGTOBER 10/10/2019: SATANICO PANDEMONIUM or LA SEXORCISTA

Yes, Quentin Tarantino named Salma Hayek’s FROM DUSK TILL DAWN character after this Gilberto Martinez Solares movie. For some reason this is the main thing anyone wants to say about this movie, as if anybody has the time in their lives to list all the things that Quentin Tarantino has named after other things. Reading movie reviews or other film writing online is a really revolting experience. I usually skim a handful of articles and blog posts when dealing with a movie I don’t know so well, just in case there’s some important information I’d have missed, but the only thing anyone wants to say about SATANICO PANDEMONIUM is about Salma Hayek, and I had to read one especially self-satisfied review refer to her as “yummy”, and now my brain needs a Silkwood shower. My writing is probably pretty awful from time to time but I hope it’s never THAT stupid and boring.

Um anyway. What mainly interests me about Gilberto Martinez Solares’ 1975 nunsploitation movie is the same thing that interests me about a lot of Mexican supernatural horror movies--the earnest concern for the one’s soul. In the present film (how can you possibly choose between its two equally excellent titles?), the pious and beautiful Sister Maria attracts the attention of Satan, who pursues her with the actual fruit of knowledge until he succeeds in corrupting her. The newly awakened satanist then transforms from a good little masochist into a dangerous sadist, committing acts of arson, assisted suicide, rape, murder, and of course lesbianism, before she has to face the ethereal consequences of her sin spree.

It’s hard to quantify without a longer survey of such movies, but it still feels like overstating the obvious to say that religious horror movies from deeply catholic countries “get” demonic possession and satanic conspiracy more than the rest of us. I am a giant fan of THE EXORCIST, but even that cerebral effort--whose horror is a more successful allegory for secular concerns like addiction and mental illness, than it is a spiritual statement--remains focused on preserving Regan’s earthly, rather than eternal life. Religious horror is one of my favorite subgenres, which means I slog through a lot of repetitive, derivative nonsense, and most filmmakers can’t seem to get past the mundane torments of criminal violence, and of one’s one body decaying, as the main problems of infernal contimination. The impact of blasphemy escapes filmmakers who don’t live with it as a foregone conclusion, or who fear that audiences will find it too esoteric. Not so in LA SEXORCISTA, in which Maria’s bloody rampage is not just a matter of legal transgression, but is peppered with fabulously irreligious dialog like “I’m more powerful than God” and “I AM HELL!” There is a general aura of real concern for Maria’s spiritual fiber, and what will happen to her and her victims in the afterlife.

It’s not that hard to understand why the fate of the soul is sometimes eschewed in movies that do not specifically function as actual religious propaganda, like the LEFT BEHIND or GOD’S NOT DEAD series. International viewers who have to suffer dreary debates about the separation of church and state in their daily lives, or for whom warding off proselytizers is a regular annoyance, probably don’t want to hear about the light of god in their escapist fantasies. Put that way, even I get the point. But the way I typically think about this topic is: I grew up during the Satanic Panic, Even though my parents were intellectual agnostics, the paranoid vibrations of opportunistic daytime talk shows, and openly religious broadcasts like the 700 Club, managed to penetrate my awareness, and what they had to say scared the shit out of me. Bob Larson’s Talk Back played on a local radio station, in which he would berate self-proclaimed witches and warlocks, and try to exorcise alleged possession victims over the phone, and I would race home to listen to his fevered rants in much the same way other kids might scare themselves silly with contraband horror comics. I was affected by these things not so much because I was afraid of the devil himself; it was more that these fanatics believed in much more terrifying realities than whatever my favorite horror movies could fabricate. The idea that eternal torture was doled out by a hateful and inscrutible god for victimless crimes like masturbation or sexual preference, or that a lifetime of good work would be for naught if you didn’t dedicate it to Jesus specifically, was totally mindblowing to me. The christians who perpetuated these ideas seemed like a bunch of sadistic perverts, and the notion that they might be correct about human life in some unfalsifiable way was the worst thing I could possibly think of.

So, even though I wasn’t raised in a religious household or community, I find it very easy to understand, and even relate to on some level, the existentialist horror expressed by countries where belief in hell is the norm. SATANICO PANDEMONIUM is a relatively breezy example, and I’m not suggesting that I was deeply shaken by it or anything--only that, as charmingly loopy as it is, I understand where it’s coming from.

#blogtober #satanico pandemonium #la sexorcista #gilbert martinez solares #cecilia pezet #religious horror #nunsploitation #witch hunt #satan

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imagine-a-killingharmony · 5 years

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Drunk V3 Boys!

How about a s/o that has to deal with the v3 boys getting super drunk and then the after math of how is the hangover. ( bonus points if drunk kokichi says the " Finland" spongebob meme) please and ty

Quickly, just imagine them as adults like I am- underage drinking is a big fat “no”, look at me being an... dork. But anyway In the less dork-part let’s say this... I’m literally a giant mess who hasn’t ever been drunk or anything, I don’t really know the effects so we’re going to use those anime-type-of-drunk which is very likely VERY inaccurate or... somewhat-realistic I don’t know. But woah.

Kiibo (Error! Error! Overheating!)

After coming back from his last check-up from Miu you were expecting to be cuddled up close with Kiibo on the couch, watching nextflix- some cheesy Disney movie which you’ve already seen thousands of time before... that’s what you thought....

Till Kiibo walked in adjusted by an trembling Miu who had her arm slung around him, she looked down on the verge of tears muttering about being “so disrespected”, Kiibo sluggishly rolls his head up bursts of steam expanded from every inch of his body.

“... U... Uuuh... there was a function I added inside of em’ to test some booze I was plannin’ on drinking... it was... uh... successful but... J-Just take him- I don’t want to be fuckin’ called out anymore!”

Miu threw Kiibo in your direction running back from once she came, wiping at her eyes as she whined about “how mean” he was... you could only watch Kiibo stir awake, nervousness pricked at your stomach as you realized she made Kiibo try an alcoholic... BEVERAGE!

“... (S/O)?” Kiibo glances up at you, blinking once or twice as he took in his surroundings, you asked if he was okay- he groggily nodded his head. “Never better (S/O)... but... Miu... I-I was just telling her about how stupid it is that she puts herself down almost all the time when she has a brilliant mind, then her very inappropriate attitude- which she presents herself to cover up that wall of self-esteem issues she has... Ah... then there was me getting onto the fact that most people are uncomfortable with the sexual intuendos she has- and for some odd reason before I could say anymore she dragged me here...”

“... I rebooted on the way... once or twice...”

“... what.” Oh. Oh my god... He... What? Kiibo said that?

“... Yes... Hey (S/O) actually I-I have some things to say about you too, look me in the eyes, look at me right now please...” Kiibo cups your face, he looks you right in the eyes, those aren’t the soft loving eyes you know- those are eyes that... are going to fucking destroy you.

Kiibo holds your face tight, escape is impossible, he sluggishly rolls his head as a soft frown falls on his face.

“... You have your errors yourself actually... like... how you...”

...

You failed... you are absolutely burnt, just turned into soot by the end of his rant, he’s just sleeping peacefully under the blankets that you had gotten for “cuddle night”, you don’t feel soft at all- you just feel absolutely WRECKED.

Shuichi Saihara (Sad Drunk)

You had both gone out on a party together, specifically a reunion with your classmates which Kokichi was hosting... which already sported red flags but you all didn’t question it, that is until people started to drop like flies... people who drank the punch specifically dropped like flies.

Kaede asked who made the punch... when the relevation that it was Miu and Kokichi themselves it all fell into place like a puzzle, they spiked the goddamn punch.

One of the victims... happened to be Shuichi, a light-weight he hugged your arm tightly slurring and whirling, tears fell down his face as he cried and sobbed about the world.

“... (S-S-S/O!) It’s no fair... I-Iiiii never did anything wrong so why does everything hafta’ be against meeeee...? *hic* it’s unfair.... unfairunfairunfair!”

It’s the fifth time you pat his back, he leans in for a better hold of you so you can give him more affection, he loves that so please do go on, he lets out a slurred hiccup.

“... (S-S/O) a... aaare you seeing anyone...? You always were soooo pretty... and... aaand niiiiice... *hic* and... aaand it make me really happy... I-Iiii wanted to date you since forever ago...”

... How drunk is he to forget the two of you are already dating? “I am.”

Shuichi’s eyes widen, he presses himself up against you with an wail as he starts to cry harder. “Of course yu are- H-Hic- I’m NOT CRYINGF.”

You can’t help but to wonder how he’ll feel in the morning, for now you try to give your poor drunk boyfriend solace as you explain how the two of you are already well- dating.

Luckily, Shuichi falls asleep on your lap while you comfort him, the tears having tired him out... he put his hands around your waist, he bids the world “night night”.

Ryoma Hoshi (Excitable Drunk)

Ryoma wasn’t a heavy drinker, actually he had never drank an drop of the stuff ever, prison doesn’t allow those sort of luxuries, besides he just didn’t want to ruin his reputation by drinking at about fifteen or some shit.

So... he was old enough, the two of you were going on a date here... he’d was just chugging the stuff considering he wanted to see how it tasted, which was rather gross under further consideration... but what he happened to pick up is that he wasn’t feeling all that woozy... guess he ain’t no light-weight.

But he sure ain’t no god, it takes about three whole damn bottles for the effects to start to shine.

...It takes five whole damn bottles for him to actually feel anything, you kept a close eye on your boyfriend as he put the second bottle down with a huff, wiping at his mouth with a “wew”!

“... That was uh, gross taste, heh.” Ryoma pulled his hat up, his cheeks flush slightly pink as he looked around. “Hey. Hey (S/O) you gorgeous son of a bitch look at me.” As soon as you even give him your attention he fingerguns.

... Ryoma wobbly pulls himself up, he doesn’t look like he’ll trip, honestly somehow he still has his balance as he takes your hand.

“... Oh my god I just had an amazing idea. We should adopt,,, a lot of cats,,, not like,,, any cats,,, but... buuuut like an shop full of them,,, and name each of them something silly...” Ryoma’s eyes sparkle deviously. “... Or... like... like... steal everybody’s cats... so we remain the supreme leaders of feline...”

“... Ryoma... do... do you feel tired? Want to take a nap, as amazing ideas as these sound I don’t think your in the right state of mind for... this.” If you let any of this happen, Ryoma’s going to hate himself in the morning.

“I know what I’m doing... I have a license... gimme a sec...” Ryoma pulls out a piece of paper, writes on it, flips it to reveal in sloppy handwriting: “I knwo wat Im do”

You try to survey his features after writing that, all he does is shoot his fingerguns at you.

...Okat you honestly need to take a few pictures of this to show Ryoma later oh my god he’s wobbling towards the door to bring one of those plans he’s mentioned to full-glory, you locked the door for Ryoma, his drunken brain can’t comprehend how to use a step-ladder. You just go to get him some water...

Kaito Momota (... Tired Drunk)

Kaito wouldn’t drink... much, sure, he would totally forge an certificate to like- well, go to space but that was for a good cause! Stuff like drinking was meant to be done for special events and shit otherwise you might get hooked!

And he didn’t actually mean to get drunk on you! He promised he just... kind of mistook the wine in the fridge as the grape panta, he was thirsty- and really fucking tired! Okay? He didn’t expect when he chugged the whole bottle down for the world to... to... hnnnnnn... what’s the word...?

It took a while for you to notice anything was amiss, Kaito had taken himself out of the room to “go get a drink” then he still never came back, so you went to check on your boyfriend to see if he still hadn’t gotten anything, needed some help.

What you didn’t expect to see was Kaito Momota Luminary of the Stars on the floor looking back up at the ceiling mindlessly, with that bottle of wine held tightly in his hands.

“... D... Doo... yu... think it’d be a bd idea if I trie... tried to take a np here? Jst... slep untl a hangover fcks me the hell up, everything hur ts.”

... Oh god! That’s even more errors than usual, so it’s likely on purpose! Kaito’s DRUNK!

You go to get some water for him in the fridge, Kaito’s still looking at the ceiling talking to himself slightly hushed, you don’t know what he’s thinking but he looks like he’s having an ephiphany about the world.

“Holy... Hly sht (S/O) I jst realized how fuckin... weird that Shuichi’s hair stands up like that... he doesn’t use anything to make it like that so how.”

“... Kaito I don’t think your in the right state of mind to make choices like that...” You offer some water to him, his eyes widen.

“Why... Why is everyone’s hair dyed- Like is it actually dyed? Or is it just natural- how can it be natural tho... unless... oh my god (S/O)... we’re in an anime I can’t believe it.”

“Kaito I think you need an second...”

“No. No I know what I’m sayin- oh my god we’re the main characters in some weird anime (S/O)... that’s the only explanation,,, I have to tell... Tsumugi but my legs won’t work nn nn n n..”

... You just pat his head, Kaito grimaces... he was absolutely wasted so everything he said held no inch of truth in it, you just hoped that soon enough your efforts to help him better bare fruit... So he doesn’t make anymore odd claims like him and his friends are in some “weird anime”!

Winks at the fourth wall.

Rantaro Amami (Immune System Of God)

Rantaro... wasn’t a drinker... well besides those really fancy drinks that he usually saw when you both got out, those always looked like a magical experience to try out so he usually did buy those but... he’s never actually gotten legitimately “drunk”, it may be because he never drinks too much.

Then there was the time that had asked Rantaro if he had ever gotten in all words actually “drunk” he responded with a shrug: “I guess I do...? Uh, I’m usually in the right state of mind afterwards still... enough to walk...”

... This was a topic which needed much more exploration... so you went out to a bar together, you swore that anything he got was on you... he squinted but still he bought some colorful drinks in funny-looking cups, peering towards you while he did...

...

He wasn’t actually drunk even after drinking quite a bit, what is this man, how is his immune system keeping him awake? Rantaro chuckles... “Yeah, I think that’s enough for tonight.. come on let’s go home.”

You either failed or this task is just impossible, you take the hand he offers you and walk outside with him... the only noticeable effect are the times he almost bumps into the wall but other than that... nothing...

He knows how to hold his liquor...

Gonta Gokuhara (Clumsy Drunk)

This was Kokichi’s fault, that’s all you know... he offered something for Gonta, that’s what he told you when he gave you back a stumbling crying boyfriend.

“... How did you even get him to drink this- oh my god! Gonta- baby please go lay down on the couch...” You led Gonta to the couch to sit down, he sobbed loudly into the pillow almost falling off, you gave a harsh glare to the Supreme Leader who chuckled at your displeasure.

“I told him it was “Respect Women Juice! TM! Yeah he really just drank it without an inch of hesitance...! Then he fell over drunk, it was hilarious till I had to actually bring him here.”

Gonta let out another loud sob as he fell over off the couch onto the floor, crying about how “Gonta caaaan’t see...!!!”

“You... are one screwed up... mess of a person Kokichi Ouma...” Pushing Gonta back onto the couch you tried to reassure him everything was alright, Kokichi grinned at you putting both of his hands behind the of his head.

“Oh I know... I know really quite well! Good luck dealing with him!”

Kokichi left the two of you alone together, you just let Gonta cry against you about how everything felt so weird... offering some water and some hugs, you’ll get revenge at Kokichi for this... you swear to it.

Kokichi Ouma (Angry Drunk)

... How... Who the hell had enough of your boyfriend to go and make him chug down so much alchohol he got drunk, god knows, but he was now... here... and slurring about some criticisms you didn’t know he had...

“Like... (S/O) it’s so stupid... instead of like... liiiike... getting mad at me when I insult her she usually gets off on it... it’s so gross,,, like how horny can somebody be (S/O)? How HORNY can you be?”

“... Kokichi... do you need a...” Despite how you tried to chime in he always cut you off, with a half-awake grumble...

“No... No let me say this... Hiiiii... iii... so... so what the hell is with Kaito’s sense of logic....? I know, know for a fact he CAN be stupid enough to literally TRUST everybody he meets, like even if there’s hard proof that their an asshole he’s STILL by their side... what the FUCK.”

“Are you talking about Maki?”

“SHE LITERALLY CHOKED ME ONCE YES, Y ES I MEAN MAKI...!” Kokichi touches his neck, rubbing at it. “Honestly... Maki is such a damn... damn jerk... seriously... she’s made “do you want to die” her punchline to almost any jokes she makes, we get it, your edgy as hell!”

While Kokichi grumbled the both of you didn’t notice the door quietly open up... nor did you notice it until their footsteps were in the right range for you to notice them...

Maki trails into the room with an sweating Kaito Momota by her side, she held a card in her hand with the words: “sorry for making you chug beer” in a rather sloppy handwriting...

“... Makiroll, don’t do this...-“ The astronaut tried to stop the caregiver but it was too late, she was already sprinting towards Kokichi to land a finishing blow...!

“FINLAND!”

[To be continued (But not really)]

Korekiyo Shinguuji (Beutifial,,, ohbnn)

How did he actually... get like this, well you honestly swear to god you don’t know, he just appeared at your doorstep muttering about how beautiful humanity was... in so much typos it was almost impossible to decipher a word of what he said...

“... Korekiyo do... you want some water?”

“... hdhdbnnkklllllln.” Korekiyo press his head against the pillow lethargically, he groaned afterwords grasping at his stomach.

“... Is... Is that a yes? A maybe? A... no?”

“... nnnnnnnnnnz.”

“No it is! No it is...”

“Okay! So do you want to um... take a nap?”

“... nbcbxzzz.”

Well. Well you can’t decipher any of this mess, picking yourself up you go to the kitchen to try and take in all that’s happened today...

“... I’ll just get that water anyway...” You pray to whatever god that exists... to please... pleasepleaseplease never have Korekiyo get drunk again.

#mod shuichi #mod shumai #ndrv3 imagines #ndrv3 x reader #kokichi ouma #shuichi saihara #kiibo #rantaro amami #ryoma hoshi #kaito momota #korekiyo shinguuji #gonta gokuhara #tw: alcohol

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