#hardly a person on earth cares about that song. and i get why but also. man | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

polutrope · 1 year

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ok I slandered Daeron in the tags to that best singers poll and I FEEL BAD so go on convince me that I should like him ;)

(mainly not a fan of his behaviour to Luthien - I love your daemags fics though <3)

Heh, saying you don't like a character is hardly slander! But I will take any opportunity to defend the B-Side of First Age Disappearing and Despairing Minstrels.

First, some reasons Daeron is cool:

He's the greatest minstrel of the Elf clan (the Teleri) specifically known for singing. He's one of the only instances of an Elf who hasn't seen the light of Aman being the best at anything.

Silm says that "Under ... the teaching of Melian [the Sindar] became the fairest and the most wise and skillful of all the Elves of Middle-earth," and Daeron is singled-out as one of the greatest among the greatest -- and not only for his music! He is also a loremaster and invented the Cirth. Everyone compares him to Maglor but I actually think there's a bit of a Sindarin Feanor vibe to Daeron. In later ages, I like to think many great Sindarin creations would get attributed to Daeron whether they're his or not (there are other versions of the history of Cirth where Tolkien seems to be getting at this), like the Noldor would attribute their great inventions to Feanor.

Daeron's name, in later etymologies, is actually related to the word 'great'.

His name, in earlier etymologies, means 'shadow of trees' which is so mysterious and poetic.

Daeron's teacher and the Queen he sang for, was there for the Ainulindale itself (thanks @an-eldritch-peredhel for the point!). Melian is also said to have been most skilled of all the Ainur in "songs of enchantment" and the Valar would stop their work to hear her singing at the Mingling. That's who taught Daeron!

The Sindar were a largely an oral culture, but Daeron -- during the peaceful years of Thingol and Melian's rule in Beleriand -- invented an alphabet. Even in times of bliss, he cared about the preservation of memory and knowledge. I love that for him. This gorgeous quote ends the paragraph about his invention of the Cirth:

But of bliss and glad life there is little to be said, before it ends; as works fair and wonderful, while still they endure for eyes to see, are their own record, and only when they are in peril or broken for ever do they pass into song.

Like Maglor, he has the same tragic arc of messing up, repenting, and self-exiling. Unfortunately, he gets such cursory treatment in the published Silm that this doesn't really come through (in particular the repentance part).

I could say more, but now we've come to repentance, let's address the real elephant in the room: betraying Luthien. This is going under a cut.

I tend to see Daeron getting dismissed (or loathed) based on some variation of "he was a jealous unrequited stalker who betrays Luthien". And there's some truth to that (definitely the betrayal part), but I think a lot of assumptions are made about him based on certain unrequited lover tropes (Maeglin), or perhaps negative real life experiences, that I don't think really apply to Daeron.

Here's why.

He was Luthien's close friend.

Let's start with what we can squeeze out about their relationship from the Silm:

Then Luthien, perceiving that no help would come from any other on earth, resolved to fly from Doriath and come herself to [Beren]; but she sought the aid of Daeron, and he betrayed her purpose to the King.

[Daeron] it was that made music for the dance and song of Luthien, before Beren came to Doriath; and he had loved her, and set all his thought of her in his music.

Ignoring for a second that he betrayed her (that's coming up), Daeron spent a lot of time with Luthien (making music for her) and he was the person she trusted enough to ask for help in going after Beren. They may not have loved each other in the same way, but there was reciprocal affection there.

(In the Tale of Tinuviel he's her brother, so at its origins the relationship is so close that they are siblings.)

The Lay of Leithian makes their friendship much more apparent, as the bits below will show.

2. His betrayals of Luthien are complex.

In the Silm, Daeron twice betrays Luthien.

First, he tells Thingol she's been hanging out with Beren:

But Daeron the minstrel also loved Luthien, and he espied her meetings with Beren, and betrayed them to Thingol.

Then, he tells Thingol that she's planning to go after him (quoted above).

The first one, I admit, comes off kinda jealous and petty. But think about his situation. His best friend (who he may be in love with - but note that in love is never the phrasing) has just started secretly hanging out with this mortal who stumbled out of the bushes. This is not safe! This is extremely unexpected and stressful! He is upset!

He is also sworn to serve his king. He kind of has to tell Thingol once he knows this about his daughter. Yes, perhaps he had no business stalking around to see what she was up to, but he was worried. Probably would have been better to just talk to her (we don't know that he didn't, actually), but he's certainly not the only male character in Luthien's story who doesn't ask her what she thinks before taking action (this includes Beren).

As for the second betrayal, again he's sworn to serve his king and she puts him in an awkward position when she reveals her plans to go after Beren. But more importantly, he's worried for her safety! From his perspective, she's lost her mind. And how was he to know Thingol's reaction would be to lock her in a treehouse?

The way this all plays out in Lay of Leithian makes all these implied complexities more apparent:

Luthien starts having secret forest meetups with Beren and Daeron sees them together. He gets very upset and lays a curse of silence on Doriath (sidenote: kinda awesome that he has this power??).

Thingol summons Daeron to ask him what is going on with the silence. Daeron replies in riddling terms, and Thingol asks him to clarify.

But Dairon looked on Luthien and would he had not spoken then, and no more would he speak that day, though Thingol's face with wrath was grey.

So even midway through his "betrayal" (questioning by Thingol), Daeron seems to repent. It's Luthien herself who steps up and reveals what's happening.

Thingol is mad, he sends everyone off except Daeron, whom he asks to watch Luthien, which he "heavyhearted did" (Daeron is really not a position to say no here).

The watching proves unnecessary because Luthien brings Beren to Menegroth herself. Beren makes his speech about wanting to marry her.

Here Daeron behaves poorly. He calls for Beren's death, which is mean (but it is also a pretty badass moment and underlies my slightly-unstable Daeron headcanons) -- but! Tolkien actually struck these lines out and in the published Silm it's Thingol who wants Beren dead. Christopher Tolkien says of this cut: "It may be that my father wished to represent Dairon as less unequivocally hostile to Beren, and also ashamed of his words to Thingol."

Next time Daeron shows up Luthien is going to him for consolation and help (as in the Silm):

'O Dairon, Dairon, my tears,' she cried, 'now pity for our old day's sake!'

She asks him to play music for her, which he does, and she feels better.

Addressing him as "my friend" she asks for his help "if he would not for love of her / go by her side a wanderer" seeking for Beren.

Daeron swears to protect her -- but what he really means is he's going to tell her dad that she's lost her goddamn mind.

But straightway Dairon sought the king and told him his daughter's pondering, and how her madness might her lead to ruin, unless the king gave heed.

When Thingol decides the appropriate response here is to lock her up, Daeron feels pretty bad about it, and often visits Hirilorn.

There Dairon grieving often stood in sorrow for the captive of the wood [...] Luthien would from her window stare and see him far under piping there, and she forgave his betraying word for the music and the grief she heard, and only Dairon would she let across her threshold foot to set.

Which brings me to:

3. Daeron repents and Luthien forgives him.

See that passage above? She forgives him! And he's the only person she lets visit her!

Next up, Luthien learns that Beren is imprisoned in Tol-in-Gaurhoth and she gathers all the various implements she needs to make her big escape.

Then Dairon she called: 'I prithee, friend, climb up and talk to Luthien!' And sitting as her window then, she said: 'My Dairon...

And she asks him to craft her a loom (which she will use to weave her hair into the cloak of darkness she uses to escape, but she doesn't say this). Daeron shows some concern over what her plans are with this and she answers ominously and evasively.

Then Dairon wondered, but he spake no word to Thingol, though his heart feared the dark purpose of her art.

He doesn't tell! He knows she's up to something but this time he doesn't tell. He's learned. (Note that because Lúthien doesn't reveal exactly what she's doing, he doesn't necessarily have the same duty to tell Thingol.)

Then as we know, Luthien escapes and goes missing. The part of the Lay covering the events in Doriath while Luthien and Beren complete their quest weren't written, so all we know of Daeron's next actions come from what's in the Silm:

And it is told that in that time Daeron the minstrel of Thingol strayed from the land, and was seen no more. [...] But seeking for Luthien in despair he wandered upon strange paths, and passing over the mountains he came into the East of Middle-earth, where for many ages he made lament beside dark waters for Luthien, daughter of Thingol, most beautiful of all living things.

Also in the outlines of the unwritten Leithian Cantos:

Sorrow in Doriath at the flight of Luthien. [...] A mighty hunt is made throughout the realm, but many of the folk stayed north and west and south of Doriath beyond the magic of Melian and were lost. Dairon became separated from his comrades and wandered away into the East of the world, where some say he pipes yet seeking Luthien in vain. [...] Thingol is wroth [at Celegorm etc.] - and is moved to think better of Beren, while yet blaming [him] for the woes that followed his coming to Doriath, and most for the loss of Dairon.

Guh! This is just so tragic to me?? He just... disappears! In despair! How is that not sad?? How is it he made two minor bad judgement calls and this is his fate? Look, Maglor fully deserved his self-exile in pain and regret. I just don't see how Daeron did. But he loved Luthien so much that his despair over betraying and losing her was it for him. Many ages of lamenting. And it was a tragedy for Doriath, too, who lost one of the greatest minds the Sindar ever had.

I get so emotional defending this guy. I'm sorry this is so long.

I made a list of short Daeron fic recs.

#daeron #luthien #sindar #silm meta #meta #I am so normal about Daeron #asks

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phtalogreenpoison · 1 month

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bit of a vent,,, bit of a pep talk,, read below the cut

sometimes i want to go off my meds. i'm like it's annoying to be dizzy all the time and sometimes i go kinda flat emotionally. like i'm not numb or apathetic (been on too high a dose and i did NOT like that) but still.

but i know if i do, my mood swings are too hard for me to handle. i get angry all the time and i try so hard not to lash out at people i care about.

and yet i still miss the highs. i miss the days where i felt like i was pouring out creativity, writing a song every day, funny and carefree (or anyways, less anxious). i miss not needing as much sleep to function.

and i can't even say "oooh that's the demons talking" bc my ocd ass will be like "what if you actually ARE evil and possessed??" which i know isn't true, but still.

and yet. it's hard to know that i am reliant upon another person prescribing me medicine and hopefully not judging me for it, especially when i might have to change doctors soon. that if i ever run out, i'm likely in for a very bad time. that the side effects might catch up with me. that certain things become more likely for my body.

also that my memory is fuzzy for chunks of my life. i don't feel like i'm getting any smarter, like i'm actively declining. i am in my 20s.

it's just kinda the grief of realizing my life might not be exactly how i planned it, that i might not be capable of as much as i thought, at least in the way most people do.

and yet i persist. i keep going. i take the damn pills every single day (or try to). because that is currently what is best for me.

but like hell am i going to judge someone who refuses medication. it better damn well be their choice, and i regret every single day judging someone in my past for being rebellious and violent without ever considering WHY they were that way. what society pushed them to without ever offering a hand back up. because the system (at least where i live) is broken, especially in regards to mental and physical health.

and i'm one of the lucky ones. i realized pretty early on what was going on, even though hardly anyone believed me at first, or that i was exaggerating. or that i was "normal." (great way to never trust yourself or think that you're manipulating or gaslighting by saying you're Hurting, by the way.) i can afford the co-pays. i am so, so lucky.

and yet, i'm still hurting. i want attention pretty much near constantly, especially from my favorite people, but i'm a quiet person who has a hard time reaching out. i doubt myself pretty near constantly and have extremely low self worth, even after so long of putting in the work to actively better myself. i hate people easily, based on one comment they say, or think they're fantastic for barely any reason. (and i can feel myself emphasizing what i want people to see, so people pay attention to me)

i'm still me. horribly so. beautifully so. even when i don't know who that is on the bad days.

please keep going. i promise it's worth it. i can't promise it always gets easier or better, but i can promise it's worth it.

especially for the people who love you unconditionally, without reservation. and for yourself. if you're not there yet, that's okay. you might never get there fully, but it's still worth it. because you can still experience love and joy and grief and friendships and relationships of all kinds and community and culture and and and. for the brief walk we have upon this earth, there are wonders to see and experience.

hold my hand in this darkness together. we shall sit as long as you need.

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eldritchsurveys · 4 months

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1178.

When did you last see someone you know in public? >> I hardly know anyone, so this doesn't really happen.

Do you enjoy going to the dentist? >> I am massively triggered by any kind of medical visit, so, no.

When did you last eat something you didn’t like? >> I don't eat things I don't like...

Do you think you’d survive if zombies took over the world? >> I don't think so, no. Wouldn't want to, anyway.

When did you last hang out with a bunch of friends at one time? .

What kind of music is your least favorite? >> I guess ambient? I just don't find it interesting in the slightest.

Are you and your best friend complete opposites? .

Would people around you say you’re regularly a mean person? >> A lot of people have said this or some variation of it about me. Do you like the colour yellow at all? >> It's my favourite colour :)

If you were to write a novel, what would it be about? >> I don't think I have a novel in me.

How many times have you logged in to Bzoink? (it has a counter) >> Well! I certainly can't check now, can I!

Are you currently pretending to be someone’s friend? >> I barely have the ability to be a friend to someone I want to befriend. How on earth would I pull off pretending? Also, I'd much rather put what little social energy/ability I have into people I like.

Are you an impatient person? >> Sometimes.

Are you afraid to watch movies that have sex scenes with your friends? .

Who sings the last song you listened to? >> No one, it was an instrumental track from a movie score. Why do you think some actors don't want to see their movies/shows? >> That's not for me to say, now, is it?

Do you think fortune tellers are the devil’s messengers (haha)? >> I don't think anything specific about fortune tellers as a whole. That's a large demographic full of a variety of people, some of whom are charlatans, but some of whom are not.

Would you rather use napkins or paper towels? >> I use paper towels. Paper towels have a wider application than napkins do, one of those applications being "napkin". So it seems more logical to just use the one thing.

Do you go to the pool in the summer time very often? >> I never go to pools. Have you ever had a serious issue involving your eyes? >> I have not.

Have you ever watched South Park? Who’s your favorite character? >> I've seen a lot of it. My favourite character back when I watched was probably Tweek, I just thought he was cute.

Do you have sensitive teeth? >> I don't.

Do you enjoy or hate snow days? Why is this your choice? . Do you turn pale when you get sick? >> I don't know, I've never been that sick. Does it bother you to get shots in the mouth? Does it hurt? >> Of course it hurts. When did you last talk seriously with one of your parents? .

What is the day of the week currently? >> Wednesday.

Is anything exciting coming up in the next three months? >> I don't think so.

Do you ever borrow money from someone? >> Not borrow, no. I don't have the ability to pay people back.

Do you know anyone who tells every single thing you say? >> I do not. At least, I've not been made aware of it, if so.

When did you last kiss someone on the cheek? Who was it? .

Why do you think people like Lady Gaga so much? >> Because that's just what floats their boat.

Do you have a lot of enemies, or not so much? >> I don't think I have any enemies. I guess that's the upside about not really being cared about, no one is super into me but no one is super against me either.

Can you count backwards from 100 without a mistake? >> Sure.

Do you have any friends you’ve had since birth? >> Imagine that...

Do you care if your friends talk badly about you? >> Of fucking course I'd care???

Would you rather drink out of a straw or just the cup alone? >> Just the cup.

Does anyone ever say they miss you often? >> No one says that.

Would you rather become a wizard or a vampire, if you had the choice? >> Wizard.

Is there anyone out there who has made you feel miserable? >> you're joking right

Do you have a problem answering personal questions? >> Not at all. If I don't want to answer one, I won't answer it. No problem at all.

What color is the vacuum-cleaner in your house? >> Grey and blue, I think.

Have you already moved out of your parents’ house? >> lol

Are your parents divorced, married or separated? .

Have you ever thought you might just have obsessive compulsive disorder? >> I have never thought that. Any obsessiveness or compulsion I experience is pretty solidly explained by CPTSD or autism (or their intersection).

Do you think it’s rude to text someone else while on a date? >> As most things: it depends.

What is the funniest movie you’ve ever seen? >> I don't know. I saw Repo Man recently, the 80s movie, and that was surprisingly hilarious to me. The dialogue, the lyrics of the songs, the fucking product labels... A+ What are your views on our current president? >> I don't have any views on him.

Has one of your websites ever quit operating or shut down? Were you sad? >> Unfortunately I have been on the Internet long enough to have experienced this many times over. It sucks every single time. I didn't even use Bzoink to the extent that other users did (I just stole surveys from there to post here), but it still sucked. Websites I use frequently/for long periods of time are yet another part of my life that have to be grieved when they inevitably die.

Is it awkward to see your best friend’s parents out in public? .

Who is the person you talk to the most in your house? >> I only live with one other person.

Is there a television show out there that you never miss? >> There are a few, yeah.

What movie have you seen too many times to be healthy? >> "to be healthy", pff. Please. The movie I've seen the most times is probably Event Horizon.

What are the last two digits of your phone number? >> 39.

Does it creep you out to see people with mullets? >> That's an interesting response. No, hairstyles don't creep me out. What is your biggest responsibility in your household? >> I don't even want to know. Whatever it is, I'm sure I'm failing at it. How cold did it get where you live, last winter? >> Last winter was much colder than this one. Not sure what's going on with this winter but I of all people am not complaining. I hope it's not too ecologically disruptive.

Do you ever wish you could go back in time to redo something? >> I do not.

Ever accidentally pull out a filling from your tooth? >> I have not and I hope I never do. Do you ever wonder what your exes are doing? >> In passing, sometimes. Like if I see something that reminds me of them.

Have you ever been caught in a huge lie with your parents? >> All the time, yeah.

Do you ever listen to the radio anymore? >> I do not.

Does it bother you to have personal conversations with people? >> It does not. I would actually like to have some deep personal conversations for once.

Ever ride in a limo? When did you last do so? >> I have not.

Do any of your body parts hurt at this moment in time? >> No. Are you sober at the time being? >> I am not, although most of the high has worn off by now. Do any of your friends constantly do things to annoy you? >> What the fuck? Apparently people will just be friends with any old kind of person. When did you last eat a Starburst? What color was it? >> I don't remember. It was probably red or pink, I don't really care for any other colour. Have you ever lied to someone & said they could sing when they couldn’t? >> I doubt it.

Do you ever call backstabbers out on what they do? >> I don't know any backstabbers. How many people in the world do you trust? >> *crickets* Well, I mean, trust with what? Like, I trust Sparrow to, idk, not bald-faced lie to me about anything important... well, I mean, they might, but... I assume they won't? But they still might. You see what I mean? It's hard to just unconditionally trust someone. Because people do all sorts of things. I try to assume the best but I'm also always ready for the worst. Yay, trauma.

#survey #surveys #random survey

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chaos-burst · 3 years

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one way or another (i’m gonna get you)

Dorian has a problem.

That problem is currently drunk off his ass and trying to balance one of Opal’s daggers on the tip of his nose. Of course he’s failing miserably, hitting himself in the eye with the blunt end twice thus far and maybe Dorian shouldn’t chuckle about it, but Dariax just keeps trying as Opal and Fearne edge him on.

“If you’re not careful you’ll stab your own eye out”, Orym says. He’s still nursing the same beer he started drinking an hour ago, probably to stay sober enough to stop any shenanigans that go too far.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, buddy. That already happened to me, like, three times, and I just healed it back together. No big deal.”

Dorian can see that Orym is at a loss for words.

“Dorian, do you think I can do it?”, Dariax calls over to him where he’s sitting, holding his lute and enjoying the warm evening breeze.

“Sure, Dariax. I’ll write a song about you if you do”, he says with an amused smile. Dorian tries to keep his smile from widening as Dariax beams at him and tries even harder.

All his life Dorian has been taught to be proper and well behaved—maybe that is why he feels drawn towards—well. Towards the group. The group that Dariax is also a part of and that Dorian definitely doesn’t feel drawn towards more than any of the others.

He starts moving his fingers mindlessly over the strings of his lute as Dariax stumbles backwards, falls over Opal’s outstretched legs and lands in her lap with the dagger clattering to the ground in front of them.

Dorian thinks about Dariax sitting on his lap, then he almost chokes on his own spit because so far Dariax hasn’t done anything even remotely appealing or attractive. He’s had shit on his beard, piss on his hands, he’s dirty and loud and so obnoxious.

But when he told Dorian that he’s the handsome one and that he’s just good at talking to people and whether Dorian wants some tips from him—Dorian was tempted. For a split second, he was thinking about Dariax offering to teach him how to flirt.

Because Dorian might be aware that he’s handsome, but he has exactly zero idea about how to flirt with people.

“Hey, Dorian! Do I still get a song?”, Dariax shouts, still half sitting in Opal’s lap.

“Sure, buddy. I’ll write you a song.”

“Cool! It’s a promise!”, Dariax says, thumbs up, a big grin on his handsome face.

There, Dorian can admit it.

Dariax is handsome. They’re all handsome. It’s really no big deal. Not at all.

Dorian tries not to think about what his parents would say about Dariax, because it’s completely irrelevant. It’s not like his parents will meet his friends, and especially not Dariax. Maybe he should go to bed and hope that come the next morning his circling thoughts will have stopped.

“Are you working on the song?”

Dorian blinks and turns his head, only to come face to face with Dariax who managed to get up from Opal’s lap and is now sitting right next to him, leaning way into Dorian’s personal space.

Dariax smells like ten different kinds of alcohol, leather and thankfully no bodily fluids, which is definitely an improvement. Dorian wishes that the fact that he’s seen this man with shit on his beard would dissuade his heart from beating a little faster every time Dariax grins at him.

Sadly his heart doesn’t care.

Neither does his stomach, which is currently doing all kinds of complicated gymnastics since Dariax invaded Dorian’s personal space.

“No. I don’t think I can concentrate in here while all that is going on”, Dorian says and gestures towards Opal who is now teaching Fearne how to do body shots.

“Aw, man. Can you play something? Something...hm. Something cool.”

“All my songs are cool, thank you very much!”

Dariax laughs.

“Yeah, okay, you’re not wrong there. You have a really beautiful voice, buddy. No wonder that goliath lady fell in love with you after like, three minutes!”

Dorian feels something that reminds him a lot of the feeling he gets when he’s falling or misses a step on some stairs. His heart starts doing an offensive little tumble and he clears his throat a little too loud as he leans out of Dariax’ space and clutches his lute as if his life depends on it.

“I don’t think I would know what to do if someone actually fell in love with me”, Dorian says with an embarrassingly shrill laugh and a second after the words have left his mouth he regrets them already.

“Aw, buddy, I told you—I can totally teach you a few tricks, you know? Just show you how to get real popular with the ladies. Or gents. Or people in general”, Dariax says and winks at him.

Dorian wishes he could turn into thin air. His cheeks feel very hot.

“I—uh. I don’t think that’s necessary. It’s not like I really have the time—“

Dariax snorts and raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, come on, Dorian. We’re just hanging out, right? If you wanna get laid, we have plenty of time for that. You should just relax a little more. Okay, so. What’s your type?”

Dorian stares at Dariax for almost thirty seconds before he clears his throat again.

“Uh. I—don’t. Well. Adventurous. Maybe—uh. Maybe brunettes?”

“Adventurous brunettes? That’s pretty vague, buddy. Just saying. Wait a second!”

Dariax leans closer again and puts his hand on Dorian’s shoulder. Then he does a terrible shout-whisper into Dorian’s ear that shouldn’t give him goosebumps but, fuck, it definitely does.

“Are you into Orym?”

Dorian blinks and turns his head to stare at Dariax who looks as if he just found out an earth-shattering secret through some careful investigation.

“N—no! No, he’s not. I mean, Orym is—fine? I don’t, uh—what I meant to say is... I don’t really know what my type is”, he ends lamely.

Of course Dariax feels the need to put an arm around Dorian now.

“Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll get you laid in no time. You have a pretty face and voice and all that, pretty sure that’ll go easy peasy.”

“That’s really not—“

“Hey guys, what are you whispering about?”, Opal shouts.

“We’re trying to figure out what Dorian’s type is to get him laid!”, Dariax shouts back.

“No, that’s not—“

“Ohh! Interesting! You don’t have a type? Did you never have a relationship before? Wait—are you like, a virgin?”

Dorian abruptly gets up from his chair. He’s definitely not drunk enough for this.

“I’m going to bed”, he says and leaves the room in a hurry, ignoring the disappointed shouts of his new friends following him outside.

Dorian hopes that his friends have forgotten the whole thing about supposedly getting him laid and about how Dariax intends to teach him flirting. But unfortunately the universe decides to not do him this favor.

Suddenly, every remotely attractive person they pass invokes a whole litany of questions.

Opal, Fearne and Dariax want to know everything. Which height, body-type, eye color, temperament, and style of clothing does he like? Does he prefer any genders to others? On six different occasions, Dariax tries to wingman Dorian into asking random strangers on dates.

Dorian is so desperate that he considers just telling them that he actually has someone back home, just so they will leave him alone.

It wouldn’t be the first lie he told.

Dorian feels a pang of guilt for lying about his name to these people who keep fighting alongside him.

Orym, bless his soul, is the only person who doesn’t partake in these interrogations and at some point, after Opal had asked Dorian if he was more into “tits or asses” Orym had quietly stated that “he deserves his privacy, you guys”.

Dorian has no idea if he’s a “tits or asses” kinda guy.

But Dorian just can’t stop thinking about the way Dariax’ voice sounded when it lilted “Man, you have the prettiest fucking eyes I’ve ever seen” the last time they were drunk.

It seems weirdly typical and ridiculous that Dorian has to have his first crush on the most chaotic man he ever met.

Dorian wishes he could forget about those damn words, just like everything that happened in their first week.

“You know”, Orym says to him two nights after that cursed conversation as they’re making their way further south towards Byroden, “if you told them to stop in earnest, I think they would respect that.”

The landscape is a carpet of green, sloping hills, rolling fields that lie bare now that winter is closing in around them. The sky is blue and cloudless and as they talk their breath puffs up in front of their faces and vanishes shortly after.

Dorian looks at Orym and then pointedly turns his gaze at Opal and Dariax, who started making a list of their findings regarding Dorian’s type.

“You sure?”, he says with one eyebrow raised.

Orym looks at least as pained as Dorian feels right now.

“I see your point. But they’re not—you know. Not bad people, I guess. I don’t think they want to hurt you.”

“Well, they’re not hurting me, they’re annoying me to death!”

Orym pats him on the back in a way that is so pitiful, Dorian can hardly take it.

“I wouldn’t usually encourage lying, but maybe you could just make up a girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Or—“

“What if I just tell them that you’re my type”, Dorian interrupts and Orym blinks at him.

“Uh—“

“No offense, you’re not. Not that you’re not handsome or anything, I just. Well—“

“It’s fine”, Orym says with a snort and shakes his head with a disbelieving smile. “You don’t have to fuss about it. You’re also very handsome but not my type.”

Dorian tries not to be offended after the last kick to his ego in Gilmore’s shop and clears his throat.

“Okay, so. What about it? Will you be my—I don’t know. My fake boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, Orym, I’m desperate here!”

“I will not be swept up in all of that. I still think you should just try to talk to them.”

Dorian feels betrayed and huffs, but he doesn’t press the issue any further. It’s probably going to be fine, he thinks. That is, until Dariax walks up to him, grins up at him cheekily and bumps his elbow into Dorian’s side.

“So. Are you finally ready to admit it?”, Dariax asks.

There is a glint in his eyes that Dorian can’t quite read.

“Admit what?”, he asks, already dreading the answer.

“That you have the hots for Orym!”

Dorian stares down at Dariax, the man he, so, so very unfortunately has “the hots for” and sighs deeply.

“You caught me”, he says with a gravelly voice. “I have the hots for Orym.”

“I knew it!”, Dariax shouts, then catches himself and turns his voice into a whisper instead. “I fucking knew it!”

Dorian massages his temple.

Maybe becoming an adventurer was a terrible idea. Maybe he shouldn’t have come here. He could make a name for himself somewhere else. The Menagerie coast is supposed to be lovely all year around.

“Okay, don’t worry, buddy. I gotcha. I’ll keep your secret, won’t even tell the girls at all. And you know what, because we’re such great friends I have a special offer just for you”, Dariax says and leans in even closer to Dorian, who has to lean down significantly.

“And what offer is that?”, Dorian asks with a sigh, resigning himself to his fate. At least Orym knows that Dorian isn’t actually attracted to him, so, he thinks, this can’t possibly get any worse.

“I should totally be your fake boyfriend so you can make him jealous.”

Dorian stares at Dariax.

Dariax stares back with the proudest grin on his handsome face.

The universe is trying to punish him. For whatever reason, it must have decided to make Dorian the butt of a cosmic joke. That’s the only explanation for all of this.

“I don’t think that’s—“

“It’s perfect! Don’t worry, I have experience with this sort of stuff, just lemme handle this.”

Dariax winks at Dorian and then grabs his hand to intertwine their fingers.

“Hey guys”, he calls as he pulls Dorian along who follows helplessly, his heart stumbling in his chest as his consciousness zooms in on the feeling of Dariax’ hand in his, “guess what. I should’ve clocked it all along, but of course it makes perfect sense! Check it out!”

And as Orym, Opal and Fearne turn their heads, Dariax raises their intertwined fingers and beams at the others.

“Wait…”, Orym starts slowly, his brow furrowed in confusion, “what…?”

“Too late, Orym. He’s my boyfriend now”, Dariax says and Dorian wishes that the wind would just pick him up and carry him away.

Dorian has to say something.

He can’t, under any circumstances, keep this up.

He is sitting—and gods, his heart is beating so terribly fast—on Dariax’ lap.

Dariax had insisted on it and now his muscular arms are wound around Dorian’s waist as if this is the most normal thing in the world. For someone who doesn’t actually have to breathe to survive, Dorian feels a little bit like he’s suffocating from the staccato inside his rib cage.

They made camp close to a rock formation that, according to Fearne, looks like a pig with wings. The night smells of snow, but Dorian feels hot despite the cold.

He doesn’t know what to do.

He knows it even less when Dariax’ hand finds one of his and just casually starts rubbing circles into the back of his hand with a thumb. Dorian can feel Orym’s eyes on them and sadly that edges Dariax on even more because he thinks his plan is working.

“You know”, Dariax says and sounds way too casual about it, “I can’t believe how lucky I got. Pretty sure you’re the most beautiful person I’ve been with so far, Dorian.”

“I—uh”, Dorian says, then somehow forgets how to speak. His cheeks feel incredibly hot even though he doesn’t sit remotely close to the fire.

Orym cocks his head and suddenly his eyes turn a little too wide for Dorian’s tastes.

Dorian doesn’t want anyone to understand anything about this disaster.

“Well, I would certainly love a boyfriend who tells me nice things like that”, Opal sighs dreamily. “Or—you know. Maybe a girlfriend. Who knows. I certainly don’t.”

She laughs a little too shrilly but Dorian doesn’t have the mental capacity to think about it anymore because a tingling sensation is running through his body and crawling along the underside of his skin as Dariax’ fingers just keep on gently, way too gently, drawing nonsensical symbols and circles on Dorian’s hand.

“Well, I just know what’s good. I make a great boyfriend”, Dariax announces with a smug undertone to his voice. The sad thing is that Dorian can’t even disagree.

So far, Dariax has been nothing but—well. There is no other word for it. Gentle and accommodating. He also started flirting with Dorian and his flirting only ever got tasteless twice during the last twenty-four hours.

He has offered to carry stuff for Dorian, held his hand, given him way too many compliments for Dorian’s poor heart to handle, helped him climb over some rocks and purposefully took a hit for Dorian in combat earlier today while shouting “Not my boyfriend, you ash-hole!”.

If someone had told him that Dariax makes good boyfriend material, Dorian would have scoffed at them.

But now.

Well.

Now he’s in even deeper shit, because this doesn’t help his feelings at all. It does the exact opposite of helping.

Gods, Dorian wishes he could kiss him.

“Well, I am certainly—uh. Happy? For you two”, Orym says with a pointed look at Dorian. Dorian tries to tell Orym that this wasn’t his idea with his eyes alone, that this is the worst, that Dorian definitely needs saving, but he doesn’t think anything gets across because the moment that Orym says that and looks at Dorian, Dariax seems to decide that he can’t have Orym looking at Dorian like that.

Dorian makes an embarrassing screeching sound as he is dipped backwards on Dariax’ lap. There is a very handsome, dwarven face with glinting eyes right in front of his when he opens his eyes again.

“Just go along”, Dariax whispers and before Dorian can protest or even just try to catch up with what’s happening, there are dry, warm lips pressed against his mouth and Dariax is closing his eyes.

Dorian’s brain is blank for a few seconds, then it kicks into overdrive, much like his heart that seems eager to jump right out of his chest and into the campfire. Dorian can’t fault it, because he, too, would love to jump into the campfire, never to be seen again.

Dariax is holding him with one arm while his other hand is resting on Dorian’s cheeks where Dariax’ thumb starts rubbing circles again as he kisses Dorian.

Dorian wants to run away.

He wants to kiss back.

He wants this to be real.

Dariax doesn’t actually want to kiss him. He only does it because he’s pretending, there is nothing real about any of this, no matter how nice and exciting his warm lips feel against Dorian’s.

Dorian pushes him away, clambers up from his position, trying very hard not to fall as he stands up, and steps away from Dariax hastily.

“I—ah. I need to. Pee. Yes. Pee. I’ll be—uh. Later!”

And he walks as fast as he can without breaking into a run.

His lips are still burning after he stops walking without even seeing where he’s going. It’s dumb. All of this is so incredibly dumb.

Beautiful eyes, beautiful voice, beautiful person.

Dariax really has to stop saying these things.

It’s already enough that Dorian developed this stupid crush after such a short amount of time on the road. It’s stupid that it had to be Dariax of all people—couldn’t it have been someone reasonable? Like Orym?

Couldn’t it just have been no one? Or a nice, noble lady that he impressed with his songs and good looks?

No.

He’s standing in the middle of nowhere, his heart beating rapidly in his chest with no clue where he even is or what he’s doing. The trees around him are leafless and bare, stretching towards the dark sky like skeletal silhouettes. Dorian doesn't know what to do.

Dariax kissed him.

He had his first kiss with a complete and utter maniac of a person. His lips are still tingling and gods, he wants to kiss him again and again and again—

“Dorian! Doriaaan!”

Dorian turns around and wipes at his face that feels weirdly wet.

Gods, he hates everything and everyone right now.

Dariax comes to a halt in front of him, his breath coming quickly and holding his compass rose.

“Okay—wow. Your legs. Are so. Long. You’re so. Fucking fast”, Dariax huffs and puts his hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath.

Dorian looks at him and can’t decide whether he wants to kick Dariax in the shin or just run away further.

“So, uh—sorry. I got a little carried away and I kinda—uh. It was brought to my attention that it wasn’t very cool of me to just kiss you without asking if that’s okay with you. So—uh. Really sorry about that, shoulda thought about that before I—uh. You know.”

Dariax scratches the back of his head as he looks down at Dorian’s left knee.

“It’s—well. Yeah, I suppose a little warning would have been nice. It’s—uh.”

Dorian stops and wipes at his face again and when he looks back up Dariax is studying him, his gaze intense and uncharacteristically serious.

“Wait—wait a second. Was that your first kiss?”

“No! I mean. Yes! Sort of! Maybe!”

Dariax gapes and Dorian wishes the earth could swallow him up whole.

“Oh fuck, buddy, man, that’s. I’m really sorry, I didn’t—damn. I really fucked that one up, huh?”

Dariax looks so earnestly mortified at what he’s done that Dorian can already feel how he’s forgiving him, how he finds it endearing, how his heart swells in his chest like the idiot that it is.

“It’s not such a big deal. Don’t worry about it. Just—uh. Maybe we should talk about all of this stuff before… you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, totally. I swear I’m usually not a creep or anything, it was just… you know. The heat of the moment, or something. So…”

Dariax is scratching the back of his head again and swallows before he shoots Dorian a lopsided grin.

“So. No kissing and stuff like that, huh? Just the hand-holding? Hey, maybe a hug or something?”

Dorian stares at him and he could swear that Dariax’ cheeks are a little redder than before, which, Dorian supposes, comes from his embarrassment about his earlier fuck-up.

As long as they’re doing this fake-boyfriend gig, Dorian could kiss Dariax whenever he wants. Because apparently Dariax doesn’t mind that one little bit. He might never get the chance again to kiss him if he says no now.

So Dorian does something incredibly stupid and impulsive and maybe it’s even a real ash-hole move. In this tiny moment in time he decides to be selfish.

“Kissing is fine. Uh—you know. You’re not that bad at it, I guess”, he says and laughs which sounds terribly false in his own ears but Dariax perks up and throws him a reckless grin that makes Dorian’s heart stumble in his chest.

“Ha! You just wait for it, I’ll kiss your brains out before you know it!”

Dorian might be addicted.

He knows that this is all a ruse based on a misunderstanding but gods, kissing Dariax is so good.

And Dariax somehow makes it seem as if he’s just as into it as Dorian is, because he keeps kissing him all the time. Of course, it never happens when they’re alone and only when Orym is in more or less close proximity but if Dorian isn’t careful he’ll start believing that they’re actually boyfriends sooner than later.

Dariax is so good at pretending.

He kisses Dorian as if he never wants to kiss anyone else. He holds Dorian’s face in his hands as if it’s something precious. He kisses Dorian breathless and at more than one point Dorian had to stop him because he was getting a little too into it and he’s afraid of overstepping any boundaries.

Dariax promised that he would kiss Dorian’s brains out and it’s absolutely working. On the seventh day on their journey south they get so caught up in making out that they don’t realize that the others have gone to find a camping place for the night.

“We should—uh. Probably follow them”, Dorian croaks and stares down at Dariax’ lips.

“Hmhm. Yeah. Probably a good idea”, Dariax mumbles. Then he kisses Dorian again.

Dorian gets lost in the sensation of tongues sliding against one another and the feeling of Dariax’ hand cupping his cheeks. Dorian slides his hands into Dariax’ hair and buries his fingers in there, something that provokes a sound from Dariax. A sound that gives Dorian goosebumps all over his arms.

He wants to hear it again. He wants to touch more. He wants, he wants, he wants—

Dariax pulls back, his eyes glassy, his breathing labored.

“I—uh. Ha. I got a little carried away. Sorry. What do you say about checking where the others went?”

“Sure. Yeah. Great idea. Let’s go.”

He steps away from Dariax and stuffs his hands into his pockets to keep Dariax from reaching for them. This is a complete and utter disaster.

Dorian knows that he should stop it.

He shouldn’t abuse Dariax’ trust like this and keep up his pretense when all that Dariax wants is to help Dorian make Orym jealous.

Which has, of course, not worked in the slightest, but Dariax insists that it’s just because Orym is such a rational and level-headed guy.

“We just need to wear him thin, you know.”

Dorian doesn’t know.

He feels like he doesn’t know anything anymore.

When they finally reach the campsite, Fearne has placed her head in Opal’s lap and seems to be napping as Opal carefully braids her long, green hair.

“You guys alright?”, Orym asks with his eyebrows raised. Dorian feels himself flush and clear his throat.

“More than alright”, Dariax answers and winks. The implication makes Dorian’s cheeks heat up even more.

He didn’t think that Orym’s eyebrows could climb even higher, but that’s exactly what happens as he regards the two of them.

“Dorian, can I talk to you for a second?”, Orym asks and gets up from the log he was sitting on. Dorian shoots Dariax a glance and he seems… off.

Dariax doesn’t return Dorian’s look, he just walks over to the fire, lets himself fall down next to Opal and asks, way too loudly to be necessary “So what’s for dinner?”.

But Dorian doesn’t have any time to think more about this, because Orym grabs his wrist and pulls him towards a group of trees, away from the campfire and away from Dariax whose eyes seem to bore themselves into the back of Dorian’s head as he follows Orym into the night.

“What are you doing?”

Dorian doesn’t have to ask what Orym means. He wrings his hands and stares at the ground.

“I—uh. I don’t really... I don’t really know?”

“So when you said adventurous and brunette, what you actually meant was short, stocky and a complete disaster?”

“I—um...”

Orym looks at him with raised eyebrows and despite the fact that Dorian is so much taller than him he suddenly feels very small.

“Well. Dariax kind of got it into his head that I’m into you. Which I’m not.”

“Yes, we established that.”

“Exactly. And. Well, he thought it would be a good idea to be fake boyfriends to make you jealous.”

Orym’s eyebrows rise even higher towards his hairline.

“But I’m not jealous. Because you and I are just friends.”

“I know, okay? It just kinda got out of hand?He’s so—I don’t know! I don’t know what to do!”

Orym sighs and rubs his temples.

“So. You’re actually into Dariax?”, he asks.

Dorian presses his lips together and takes a deep breath before he nods.

“And he doesn’t know. He thinks you’re into me?”

Dorian nods again.

“And now he’s waiting for me to get jealous and for us two to be boyfriends?”

Dorian shrugs helplessly.

“Isn’t that... I don’t know. It seems like lying to him.”

“What do you want me to do? Just tell him that I have the hots for him and then leave the country forever?”, Dorian hisses.

“Well, maybe he has the hots for you, too!”, Orym whispers back and Dorian can’t help but laugh. It sounds a little hysterical.

“Then why would he offer to help me to get with you?”

Orym stares at Dorian for a full thirty seconds. Then he sighs.

“I guess it’s a little hard to... fathom... what goes on in Dariax’ head.”

“That seems like an understatement.”

Orym scoffs and shakes his head with half a smile on his face.

“I can’t believe you actually fell for—that.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry. I guess to each their own.”

“So what’s your type then?”

“Uh—I don’t really have a type. I’m not into the whole relationship stuff. Or—uh. The sex stuff, for that matter.”

“Oh. Oh! I see. Well, that seems pretty convenient. Way less stressful than what I’m doing with my life.”

Orym smiles and shakes his head again.

“I’m not going to lie, when I’m watching you and Dariax or Opal and Fearne I am glad that I don’t have to deal with any of it”, Orym admits.

“Opal and Fearne? How do you mean?”, Dorian asks. His brain is still stuck on kissing Dariax without Orym even being in any close proximity. His whole brain capacity seems to be occupied by thinking about Dariax. It’s an absolute clusterfuck.

“Never mind. So, what do you intend to do? You can’t keep this up forever”, Orym says and pulls Dorian away from a trail of thoughts that was leading towards something explicit and utterly unbefitting of a talk with a good friend about feelings.

“I—uh. I’m still figuring it out. I’ll just. You know, I could just tell him that I’m not into you anymore and then he would probably stop”, Dorian says and ignores the uncomfortable tightness of his chest as he thinks about not being able to kiss Dariax anymore. Or hold his hand. Or being told that he’s beautiful.

He’s so fucked.

“I think you should just tell him, you know? We’re adventurers now, no one knows what might happen. If I learned anything from our Voice of the Tempest, it’s that you should do your best to live without any regrets, because time is a precious thing”, Orym says.

“A weird soup”, Dorian answers, his voice weak and his heart hurting. Orym snorts.

“Yes, sure. A weird, precious soup. Anyway. Think about it, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Something is up with Dariax.

Dorian has no idea what it is, but there is definitely something wrong.

He’s quieter than usual, which is disconcerting. He’s also, very definitely, holding onto Dorian’s hand way tighter than before.

“Hey, is everything alright?”, Dorian asks him quietly as they’re getting ready for the night. The sky overhead is dark and full of clouds and the moon is barely visible.

“Yeah, sure. Stellar”, Dariax says but he’s not looking at Dorian.

“You don’t look stellar”, Dorian insists and puts his hand on Dariax’ shoulder. Dariax’ eyes flicker down to his hand and then up to his face. Dariax opens his mouth to answer, but Dorian doesn’t hear anything because there is a searing pain on his back and he slumps forward and crumples onto his knees.

His vision goes blurry from the pain and he can feel that there is something coursing through his body. It hurts.

“Dorian? Dorian!”

Lying down seems like a great idea. What if he dies now and he didn’t even tell Dariax that he’s not into Orym? What if his adventure ends here already? He doesn’t want to sink into the weird soup that is time already. He wants…

“Take your hands off my boyfriend, you fuckers!”

“Hey! What’s going on?”

“Dorian, are you okay?”

He is definitely not okay and while he probably should have different priorities as he’s bleeding out in the grass, all he can think about is the fact that Dariax just called him his boyfriend.

“Dorian, are you okay?”, Dariax’ voice sounds muffled and far away.

“Heh. You’re really good at pretending”, he lulls as he’s turned onto his back to look up at Dariax’ face.

“What? Guys, I think he has a concussion or something!”

“Well, heal him!”

“I’m trying! Dorian, hey! Buddy, don’t pass out on me, okay?”

“Did you know that your eyes are really pretty?”, Dorian slurs and he wants to raise a hand to touch Dariax’ face that seems way too red all of a sudden, but he can’t move a muscle and as he feels Dariax’ warm healing magic flow into him, he passes out from the mind-numbing pain.

Dorian has never shared a bed with anyone. Neither in a platonic nor in a romantic or sexual way.

When he wakes up there is someone plastered to his side. The quiet snoring tells him that it must be Dariax.

“Are you okay, Dorian?”, Fearne’s soft voice reaches his ears and he turns his head to see her sit on his other side, her hand places closed to his shoulder as if to make sure that he’s within reach.

“Uh—ow. Yeah. What happened?”

Dorian tries to concentrate on his own body and on Fearne’s words, but he’s distracted by the feeling of Dariax sleeping so close to him. His arm is thrown over Dorian’s chest and his face is pressed into Dorian’s shoulder. Orym is nowhere to be seen.

“Those Nameless Ones seem to have a pretty far reach. They really want that spider crown.”

Dorian groans as he tries to move.

“They hit me with poison or something?”

“Yeah. Dariax fixed it. Then he insisted on carrying you back to the cart. Then he insisted to tuck you into bed. And then he just sort of flopped down next to you and stared at you really intensely until he passed out.”

Dorian tries to laugh but almost chokes on it as he imagines this short man trying to carry someone as tall as Dorian. His thoughts circle around the fact that Dariax cared for him, healed him, tucked him into bed.

“So. Ah—where are Orym and Opal?”, he asks to distract himself from the feeling of having Dariax pressed so close to him.

“They’re checking to see if we’ll be safe for the night. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

Fearne smiles down at him and starts scratching Little Mister under the chin as she hums a melody that Dorian’s never heard before.

“Did you ever have a really dumb crush?”, he asks before he can stop himself. Fearne turns her head to look at him again and cocks her head.

“A crush that was dumb because it wasn’t mutual or a crush that was dumb because the person was dumb?”, she wants to know.

“Ah. Huh—I haven’t thought about it that way. I guess… how about we go with both?”

Fearne puts her index fingers to her lips and cocks her head from side to side as she thinks about it.

“Well, I don’t think crushes are dumb just because they aren’t mutual. And I also think that Opal is very intelligent in her own, special way.”

Dorian blinks.

“Wait. What?”

“Hm?”

“You have a crush on Opal?”

“Sure. I thought it was pretty obvious”, Fearne says and smiles dreamily.

“Uh—maybe. Now that you mention it, I think Orym clocked it.”

“She is just. You know. Very exciting and spontaneous and funny and creative and pretty.”

The way that Fearne just talks about her crush makes Dorian wonder why he isn’t able to just say it like this. That he likes Dariax because he’s funny and brave and adventurous and a complete idiot in a lovable kind of way.

“What do you like about Dariax?”, Fearne wants to know.

“Uh—well”, he laughs nervously and clears his throat. Dariax is still softly snoring into his shoulder. “I guess… I guess pretty much everything?”

“That’s so sweet! And that’s what he said too. You guys just fit so well”, Fearne says with an earnest smile.

“Wait. What?”

“Hm?”

“What did you just say?”

“I said that you guys fit really well.”

“No. No, I meant before that.”

“Uh—well, when I asked him what he liked most about you, he also said that he likes everything about you. I thought it was really sweet, you know? There was a whole list of things, but he stopped midway through it and said ‘So basically, everything’.”

There was a whole list of things.

A list.

“So basically, everything.”

“Dorian? Are you really okay? You look a little flushed.”

“Hm? Oh—yeah. I’m fine. Perfect. Peachy. Never better.”

He laughs nervously and glances over at Dariax as his insides dissolve into small, hyperactive butterflies. Maybe it’s not what he thinks. Maybe Dariax meant that he likes everything about Dorian as a friend.

“If you’re sure you’re okay I think I’ll stretch my legs a little bit. This cart is pretty small”, Fearne says and scoots towards the exit of the cart. Little Mister follows behind her and a moment later Dorian is alone with a snoring Dariax, whose hand has somehow managed to sneak under Dorian’s shirt.

What is he supposed to do now?

Wake Dariax up? Confess his feelings?

His heart beats so quickly that Dorian is almost afraid that it might just leap out of his rib cage. In the end he’s not brave enough to wake Dariax up and instead intertwines their fingers and turns his head to look at Dariax who has definitely drooled onto his shirt.

He knows that he’s completely fucked because he thinks that this is endearing.

Dorian raises his arm and gently cards his hand through Dariax’ hair.

Dariax makes a small sound in his sleep, something that sounds like a content sigh, and the butterflies in Dorian’s stomach start dancing happily.

“D’you really think my eyes are pretty?”, Dariax mumbles a second later and Dorian pulls his hand away hastily as Dariax’ eyes open.

“Um—well. Yeah. They’re… they have a very nice color”, Dorian croaks. Dariax pulls his hand out from under Dorian’s shirt and starts rubbing at his eyes.

“You okay again?”

“Yeah. Thank you for saving me. And carrying me to the cart. And—uh. Tucking me in.”

Dariax’ cheeks redden as he coughs slightly before sitting up.

“Well, you know. It’s what boyfriends are for, right?”, Dariax says with half a laugh in his voice that doesn’t sound completely genuine.

Dorian swallows and bites his bottom lip as he tries to find the words. He’s usually not bad at talking, so why does this seem so endlessly hard?

“So—uh. I have something to confess”, he starts as his thoughts start spinning around in panicked circles. Dariax turns his head to look down at him.

“I know, I know”, he answers.

“Huh?”

“Well, I figured, you know. When Orym dragged you away I thought you guys probably had a talk?”

“We did, yeah”, Dorian says but he is endlessly confused about what that has to do with anything.

“See, I knew it. So you think it finally started working, huh? Told you, I’m really good at this kind of stuff.”

Dorian decides that he has to sit up for this. His head is spinning and his heart is racing and he is endlessly confused about what in the ever-loving hell is going on.

“Working? What are you talking about?”

“You know, the jealousy thing.”

Dorian stares at him.

Then it finally clicks.

“Dariax… I don’t want to be fake boyfriends anymore”, he says quietly before he can think of a better way to say it. Dariax’ expression twists and he looks away, his hand reaching for the back of his head to scratch at his scalp—a sign for nervousness, as Dorian knows by now.

“Yeah. Okay. I—uh. That’s—“

“I want to be your real boyfriend.”

Dariax blinks a few times. Then his face turns the deepest shade of red that Dorian has ever seen on him.

“You—what?”

“I don’t like Orym. I never have. Not like that. I—uh. I like you. And when—if—I kiss you again I don’t want it to be just pretend, I want to really kiss you. Because I—uh. I really like kissing you.”

Dariax is still staring at him, seemingly stunned. The hand at the back of his head has stopped moving and started to sink slowly back into Dariax’ lap.

“So…”, Dorian says and the nervous energy humming under his skin is almost unbearable, “can I? Can I… kiss you? For real?”

If Dariax doesn’t say anything soon Dorian might have to flee from the cart and actually leave the country. The suspense is torturous, his words hang heavy in the air between them. And then, faster than Dorian can react, Dariax lounges himself at Dorian and kisses him so passionately that Dorian can’t suppress the moan that escapes him.

Dariax pushes at him, shoves Dorian back down onto the bedroll, sinks one hand into Dorian’s long hair and cups his face with the other.

Dorian’s brain goes blank as he arches up against Dariax’ weight on top of him.

“So, is that a yes?”, he pants into the kiss.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes”, Dariax rasps and kisses him again. “Gods, you’re so pretty. I thought I was going to go insane.”

Dorian makes a very embarrassing noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper. Maybe he likes those compliments more than a normal person would.

“So you like me?”

“Are you kidding me? So fucking much.”

Dariax is kissing his whole face now and Dorian wraps his arms around him. He feels light as a feather and the butterflies in his stomach have gone completely off the rails.

“Are you guys decent?”, Opal shouts from outside the cart.

“No! Go away! I want to make out with my boyfriend!”, Dariax shouts back and Dorian laughs.

“Don’t leave any icky spots though!”, Opal says.

“Oh, come on”, Dorian hears Orym protest.

“That’s what Prestidigitation is for, Opal! Read a book about magic!”, Dariax announces loudly and Dorian has no time to protest this obscene exchange because Dariax is kissing him again and Orym seems to be dragging Opal away from the cart.

“So do you know what that means?”, Dorian mumbles against Dariax’ lips.

“Hm?”

“I don’t need any flirting lessons from you after all.”

#critfic #exandria unlimited #exu #exu fic #dorian storm #dariax zaveon #fanfiction #mi writes #critical role #doriax #text #screeching into the void #this is 7k words of chaotic fake dating ooops

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douxie-casperan · 3 years

Text

Rise of the Titans and the assassination Hisirdoux Casperan’s character development

I’ve been ranting so much since Wednesday morning that I finally condensed by thoughts of WHY this one subject keeps setting me off namely the utterly diabolical way they handled Douxie and Archie’s relationship in Rise of the Titans and how it wasn’t just enough to hit him with the nerf bat.

Please note I’m at the point where I literally cannot tell the difference between Aaron headcanons, Teny headcanons and my own they are all mixed together in the blender that does funky things. I also apologise for typo/weird wording it’s half 1 in the morning and I’d rather sleep than edit.

If asked to sum up Hisirdoux Casperan there are certainly several things that come to mind:

Sees the value in people as a whole and will find do anything if there is a chance of help someone out

Prefers tactics that disable/banish rather than kill an enemy yet willing and able to pull the trigger if circumstances become forced

While not academically inclined he is very capable of thinking on his feet and outside the box calling back to his time on the streets where a split-second decision making is the difference between being caught and not

Terrible at planning he’ll be in there figuring it out as he goes along which is what makes the previous point so vital to literally how he goes through life

A natural charmer that would let him talk his way out of trouble 9/10 providing a perfect cover for his distrustful nature and reluctance to be touched by random people

Very down to earth, humble and never one to brag unless outright sassing someone

Will bang out some hot tunes at the drop of a hat, his love of music has never wavered once since he caught the bug despite instrument hopping ironically becoming a jack of all trades much like his magic style

The earliest memories he can recall are him as a young boy lost in the woods where he was for an unknown amount of time before his soon to be familiar finds him amongst the roots covered in dirt and drying tears, there is nothing before that. Unbeknownst to him is the colour of his magic matches the blue of a lost mother’s eyes and the song that haunts his nightmares as much as fire could well be hers though there is no way to be sure. From that moment on Archibald, shortened to Archie, would become his entire world and their friendship only becoming closer during the years they prowled Camelot together trying to keep themselves in one piece until the fateful day Douxie tricks the wrong person leading him straight into the path of the famous wizard Merlin Ambrosius.

It's no real secret that Merlin is a very closed off person who keeps his emotions as well guarded as his secrets, prefers the style of negative reinforcement over positive encouragement and is a very strict perfectionist in his. At this point in his life he can be very easily described as a disaster that is genuinely doing his best with every little mistake held of his head and his future self when brought back to that time period is belittled by Lancelot (Errand boy) and Arthur (Boy) too meaning it’s hardly a wonder his confidence was very fragile revelling in the times where he could do things without being told off for it. With Morgana largely ignoring him too (Though personally I like to think as he got older she’d occasionally take an interest until the blistering arguments with their master started to talk over daily life) a certain disguised dragon would have remained a lifeline and give that physical affection he craved much like being told he’d done well never seemed able to earn.

With Killahead he’d lose that home and family he made leaving just the two of them behind struggling to figure out their place in the world that had abandoned them.

There wouldn’t have been the words for it back then but the way he had been treated prior was outright abusive instilling very bad habits into Douxie yet by irony he was always willing to give people the benefit of the doubt and help those in trouble without thinking earning a reputation as the Shepard of Fire. He refused to become like him seeking to be better, perhaps not as a wizard (Even though he was learning new charms and spells along the way) but certainly as a person. Despite everything he suffers through or witnesses in the intervening years, the loss of friends and kindling of far newer ones he never loses his good heart

That said is it any wonder that after rightfully sassing Merlin for resurfacing, ignoring his existence despite being in the same town and only visiting him to run a finding errand that all the confidence he’d managed to build completely from scratch after Camelot wavered causing him to fall back solely into trying impressing his old Master who was acting like his humble apprentice must have coasted the past few centuries who himself fell back into old habits of belittling? It’s only when Merlin started to truly listen and acknowledge that this was not the same Moppet he once knew after Excalibur was fixed that their relationship finally started to become more like equals. After the defeat of Janus the changeling that broke into the castle he touched Douxie’s shoulder with a genuine smile and for a second he simply didn’t know what to do because the old man never did this before his brain kicked into gear and realised he’d finally earned that one thing he’d been so desperate for his entire life: That in Merlin’s eyes he could be more than a failure who only caused problems for the closest thing to a father figure he’d ever had, never solved them.

A staff will be earned, history would be set back on trap by banishing Morgana tag teaming with Archie because they know one another inside and out, as promised he’d get the kids back to the present but soon after things would go badly wrong. They’d lose Jim and because of his very nature he’d make a gamble to try and get him back because that life is worth trying for just for in a moment of surprising selflessness Merlin would be sacrificed to save him. The only constant in his life apart from Archie would apologise, openly express pride and how the greatest thing he’d ever done was saving this orphan, call him son for the first and final time before turning into ash in his arms. There would be no time to grieve for things will barrel into the crescendo of Douxie sacrificing his own life to buy everyone time to escape because if they did that everything he’d ever done would be worth it with one last whispered goodbye.

(Zoe sees him fall, so does Archie – His heart would break if he was conscious just like theirs does when his body crumples into the ground)

On the very fringes of the Light Realm he is gifted one more conversation with Merlin in a truly heart-breaking sequence (THANKS TENY) where they can just talk without any fear of consequence or politics and just be completely honest. Douxie is allowed to stand equal to Merlin, to have the hug he’d needed since he was a child and be allowed to simply let go of every pretense and cry his heart out because this can never happen again. He’s allowed to say goodbye to both his master and Morgana who had both shaped so very much of his life but like the painting he’d always remained firmly in the long shadows of until that moment.

When Hisirdoux Casperan finally leaves Wizards if we just accidently deliberately put the shawarma back in along with checking in with Zoe before departure, it is with having learned to live during his wandering years but this is the point of true freedom because he can finally escape into his own light with Archie by his side to keep Nari out of the hands of those that would see the world harmed. It won’t be easy but it feels possible somehow even with the knowledge everything is simply running on borrowed time.

Then Rise of the Titans happens.

At first everything is genuinely fine! No more running, they engineer a solution shut the Order’s magic down to make them a lot less dangerous and potentially at least incapacitate them until they can come up with a longer-term solution but all the best laid plans and all that. Douxie’s quick thinking stops the train from crushing any of the people below and it’s a very him style move to switch places with Nari to stall for time because for some reason the plot disabled Claire from portaling her or any of the threatened people/heroes to safety. He openly sasses the Order despite knowing the consequences will be bad for him because once again he’s managed to trick them, buy time that at the other end isn’t even slightly utilised until he’s forced back into his own body in excruciating pain. Archie immediately mobs him with comfort just as he has done every single time the wizard is distressed or collapsed with exhaustion without thinking because that is what their bond is like, incredibly close and far more than the Soul Bond mark that connects them together. They’re very alike in that regard, you have to earn the right to touch while equally knowing exactly what form the other needs the most in that precise moment in a way very few others could.

Bar the moment of figuring out that an illusion is in place to hide where the Order is opening the Genesis Seals and the brief insistence on reconnecting with Nari somehow Douxie manages to forget everything that makes him who he is after this point choosing to stand in the background being very no thoughts head empty or can only use the most basic spells of his youthful days not the seasoned master wizard he should be. Nomura is treated like an innocent slip rather than an outright death he did absolutely nothing to prevent (Not to mention the stupid daytime thing) nor seems to care particularly about afterwards yet with Nari’s he’s allowed to openly grieve in a gorgeously animated visual showing how he’d failed to keep her safe despite everything. He did nothing to help here either mind despite allowing himself to be tortured in the same piece of media to keep her safe, just watched another loss happen right in front of his eyes in his conga long line of them.

Then there’s Archie, oh god then there was Archie.

The dragon who even here he’d been shown to have an incredibly close bond with him decides you know what sod that tell him goodbye I’m going to make a joke about having a kingdom now dad and me are trapped in here forever. Douxie on his part looked sad for all of three seconds saying that he hoped he’s happy like it's a pet that wandered out into the world one day and never came back instead of a lifelong companion that has been there for as long as he can remember. He was now completely alone in the world since Zoe was also written out entirely and because every bit of his background had been forgotten about it somehow meant nothing. This wasn’t “I know you miss him, I know you need to grieve but you are running out of time” moment like things had been with Charlie, this was “cool shapeshifting dragon cat is now stuck in a plot hole that’s a shame” with zero pay off or any of the genuine reaction that should have been there or hell even trying to Ohana him back that very second because it never should have happened in the first place. Then even this wasn’t enough somehow, they managed to de-power Douxie even further into uselessness bar the (Admittedly nifty!) sticky feet stunt, the one who fought Skrael and Bellroc to a stalemate was shunted aside with barely a thought and his head would somehow get even emptier.

The one person who knew the danger of time magic the most stood by and said nothing.

The one person who would suffer the most by a reset because the lynchpin to his issues would be asleep if you got it wrong and should have drilled it into Jim’s head the best time to aim for stood by and said nothing.

The one person who had just suffered the loss of his familiar, best friend and only family along with the almost sister like Nari stood by and said nothing.

Then to add further insult to injury the caption when Douxie and Archie is shown says Some go their entire lives living an existence of quiet desperation because every drop of his character growth, his ability to finally start addressing his trauma instilled back in the 12th century, the staff he longed for was instead openly mocked by going “Aww he got his cat friend back how nice!” Everything he’d rightfully earned and had now would be unable to progress until certain criteria are met because it hinges entirely on the Trollhunter going to Merlin’s tomb and there’s only so much your support network of two (One if she’s written out) can do, the root of the majority of his issues all stem from one man.

And this folks is why I’ve been going on multiple rants about Douxie in particular, everyone was hit with the out of character bat to some degree in this film but when they came for him they didn’t just stop after they took his legs out because they wanted him to suffer from something he’s never had any control over to begin with all over again. Abuse survivors deserve better, these characters deserve better and we as viewers deserve far far better writing than we were forced to endure.

#Ooc - Behind the curtains #Rise of the Titans #Rise of the Titans spoilers #RotT Spoilers #RoT spoilers #Wizards #Tales of Arcadia #ToAWizards #Hisirdoux Casperan #Douxie Casperan

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ifeellikeameowster · 3 years

Text

Raise Hell - Creativitwins and Darkside!Roman Fic

Fic Summary: After a brooding session in his room after the events of SVS2, Roman decides Fuck It! and visits his brother Remus' room. As the two brothers reconnect, Roman ends up making a startling decision.

Warnings: Roman Angst, Self Loathing, Self Deprecating, Darkside!Roman, Gore, Violence, Weapons, Sexual Innuendos (Basically Remus just being Remus)

Pairings: None!

Wordcount: 7k+ (almost 8k)

Author's Note:

I started writing this fic immediately after SVS2 so it's canon complacent until after that, where it branches off into this AU! This was before both Flirting With Social Anxiety and Working Through Intrusive Thoughts came out, so please just consider this an alternate "What If?" scenario! (Also this just goes to show you how much I procrastinate when it comes to writing whoops lol.)

Roman sat curled up on his bed. Sitting in the same position that he had been for the past two days or so. He couldn't exactly recall how long he had been there holed up in his room, actually.

The only thing he could recall was the disappointed looks on their faces, their harsh words whether intentional or not, and the feeling of his whole world seemingly crumbling down around him. It was all too much too soon, and after his outburst he had sunken into a numb state of suspension. Waiting to feel anything other than anger, grief, and disappointment. All three of which were mainly pointed dangerously at his own self like a bunch of daggers repeatedly striking where they knew it would hurt most.

Patton had stopped by shortly after he had first sunk out, yes. But Roman could hardly hear what the fatherly side was saying to him over the ringing in his ears and his own rapid heartbeat constantly reminding him it had been recently struck through. Something about everything being okay, he thinks? Yet how could Patton have said that when absolutely nothing was okay right now? In fact, he doubted anything could be okay ever again. Not after…well, after he had apparently messed up again.

It was starting to become a habit now, all of these stupid mistakes. And how could such a perfect prince as him make such mistakes? He was supposed to be a paragon of perfection! An idol for all aspiring heroes alike! The pinnacle of heroism and all that is good in the world! Instead he was just...just wrong. Always wrong. Always wrong no matter who's side he took or who he believed in or what he said or didn't say. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

But if he wasn't a perfect prince...if he wasn't a hero...if he wasn't right...then what exactly was he? What was left? Well, nothing, really. He had put all of his eggs in one basket and now the littlest breeze had apparently sent it toppling over.

Wait a minute...If he had nothing left, then that meant he had nothing left to lose, right? Which meant all of his old restrictions on himself, all of his walking the fine line and all of him staying on the right side of the fence- All of it was meaningless. It was doing nothing, just like him.

He slowly unfurled his body from it's curled up position and turned his gaze towards the closet on the far side of his room. The door was dingier compared to the rest of the elegant and ornately designed bedroom. Scratch marks marred its greyed, wooden surface and a sign was tapped loosely and half-hazardly to the middle. "Danger: Nightmare Zone. Keep out!" It read in bright red lettering.

"Keep out, huh...I must have been really mad when I wrote that." Roman glanced down to his hands, which he had clenched. "But now I'm just empty...so what's the use in obeying a stupid sign that I put up there myself?" He unfisted his hands and looked back to the imposing closet door. "What could be more dangerous in there than staying here and stewing in my own thoughts?"

He slowly stood up, his legs tingling from being in one position for far too long. He made his way over to the closet door. Slowly. Cautiously. Glancing over his shoulder as if someone was going to walk in on him at any moment. As his hand grasped the handle, he felt himself gulp. Did he really want to do this?

"…"

Well, what else was there to do?

He pushed the door open and stepped into the closet full of old clothes. All of his new princely adornments were actually being stored in a mahogany wardrobe beside his nightstand. These clothes were...they belonged to...Well, someone who didn't exist. At least not anymore. He pushed his way through dusty and moth-bitten clothes as if he was pushing through the undergrowth of a dense jungle. As he neared his destination, the place grew darker and smelled more and more of mold.

He finally arrived at another door. This one was more well kept than the last, with golden trimmings and an intricate door handle. He took a deep breath to steal his nerves before pushing it open.

He stepped out into another bedroom. This one had moss in the corners, cobwebs on the ceiling, and ivy climbing it's walls. Even still, it was much tidier than he had been expecting. It gave off more of a wild feeling rather than a dirty one. Just as he was about to take another step to inspect further, there was a mace in his face.

He hadn't even flinched back, he was so tired and dazed. Roman sucked in a nervous breath and looked to the wielder of the weapon.

Remus was standing frozen in place, his face flickering between emotions. Eyes twitching. It appeared like he had intended to knock him out again...just like last time in the living room...but something must have made him pause.

"You've been crying." He hissed, less of a question and more of an accusation.

Roman blinked, confused, before reaching up to poke the skin underneath his eyes. Sure enough, it was puffy. He bet if he looked in a mirror they'd be red-rimmed as well. But he didn't even want to see his own face right now. He huffed out in irritation. "So what if I have?"

Remus' face flickered once more before settling into a firm stare as he slowly lowered his morning star mace away from Roman's head. He was being oddly still and slow in his motions, and the difference between this and his usual rambunctiousness was making Roman's skin crawl with nerves. "Why?"

"Why?" Roman repeated after him, bristling, "Why do you even care why?"

Remus blinked, seeming to come out of his previous mood. "You tell me Prince Smarmy! You came into my turf." He rested his mace behind his shoulders and started rocking back and forth on the heels of his boots.

"I…" Roman's gaze fell to the ground. "I don't know. It's just the last place I could go, I guess?" He shrugged before waving a dramatic arm, "But if you don't want me here either, then just say it to my face!"

Remus tilted his head curiously before leaning forward "Oh, I can do way better than that, brohide." And with that, he snapped his fingers and the room flipped upside down.

Roman gasped as they fell through the air. The room seemed to twist and morph around them. Until finally, he had landed roughly on his own fluffy white floor rug. Remus, however, had fallen through the fancy canopy of his bed. Tearing a large hole through it and landing in a heap on the covers.

"Hey, my bed!" He shouted, offended beyond belief.

"Oh tough titty." Remus chastised as he picked up a golden laced, red silk pillow. He started plucking at it's loose threads. "I bet you have a ton of those ugly tent things."

"They're called canopies, you uncultured swine!"

Roman got up in a huff and dusted off and straightened his rumpled clothes. He sent a glare over to Remus as he did so. "Why'd you do that?"

"Do what?~" He sing-songed annoyingly back.

"Teleport us in such an unruly manner!"

"Hmmm…" He flopped over on to his back and started doing snow angel motions. "Why'd you go in my room?~Huh? Huh?"

"Wha- I- I asked you first!"

"I asked you second!!" He rolled over on the bed to grin up at Roman, still clutching the poor, abused pillow.

"Ugh, fine!" Roman threw his hands up in the air and moved to grab his vanity chair. He pulled it over to sit in front of the bed. "I just didn't want to be in my own room right now, okay??"

Remus frowned with pursed lips and sat up, scooching forward on the bed. "But it's your room, numbnuts."

"Well maybe I don't want to be near me right now…Um, wait. That doesn't make any sense, does it?"

"Probably not! But-" He cupped a hand over his mouth and loudly whispered conspiratorially, "I can rip your head off your body and throw it to the side for you so you're not close to it anymore?"

"No that's...That's not what I meant and you know it!"

"Fucking party pooper!" Remus threw his hands up then abandoned the pillow he had been holding to riffle curiously through the rest. "Do you not keep a dagger under your pillow??"

"What? No, of course not! Who would do that?"

"Me, duh! For security reasons, bitch boy."

"Well I'm obviously more sensible than that. I keep swords under the bed like a sane person."

"Wait, really?!" Remus threw himself over the side of the bed to look underneath it. "Holy shit, nice!" He rustled through them for a moment before grabbing a sleek black flamberge by it's blade and pulling it up. "I'm keeping this!"

"I would protest that but you've already gotten your filthy blood all over it and that sword is a particular bitch to clean."

"Sibling souvenir!" Proclaimed Remus as he stabbed it into his stomach for safe keeping.

"What on earth are you doing? Why would you stab yourself??"

"To make sure it doesn't go anywhere! Oh, and to test it's stabby powers."

"You know in hindsight, I shouldn't have even asked."

"Speaking of askings of questions-ing, why did you visit my room of all places? Needed to get rid of some trash? Because I'm taking if you're offering. I could always use more decorations!"

"Remus, you rat bastard, I saw that your room was cleaner than you let people believe it to be. If you did take any of my trash you'd probably organize it into the proper bins and everything."

Remus gasped and put an offended hand over his chest. "How dare you! My room is perfectly and gloriously trashy and stinky, just like me."

"Mhmm, sure it is."

A shuriken flew past the side of his head and embedded itself right in the face of one of his many Disney posters.

"Just answer my question!!"

"Okay, okay jeez!" Roman raised his hands placatingly before dropping them to grip at his knees nervously. "I, well, I didn't want to be alone anymore…"

"And? You couldn't just visit the other lamo light bitches in the living-dead room?"

"They, um." He sighed before looking over at his posters. Prince Charming smiled brightly back at him, even with a weapon digging into his forehead. "They don't want to be around me. They don't want me. Not anymore. If they ever did. They have him, after all. Both of them."

"Him. Them. Stop playing the pronoun game already and get fucking on with it!"

"He has Janus now! Thomas chose Janus! Patton chose Janus! They chose Janus! They both chose Janus...over me…" Roman blurted out. The words were spilling out now, unstoppable. He sniffled as he felt the tears threatening to fall once more as well. He didn't even realize he had any left to cry. "I chose Thomas. Thomas chose Patton. Patton chose Janus. No one ever chooses me! No one ever takes my side!"

"Apparently, I'm always the one in the wrong..." He ran his shaky hands over his cheeks, desperately trying to push any tears that appeared away. To keep them from falling anymore. Hadn't he cried enough? "I was wrong about Virgil. I was wrong with how I talked to Logan. I was wrong about the breakup. I was wrong about the wedding. Now I was wrong about Deceit- no, Janus- ugh...Everything I do is wrong!"

He lowered his hands again to dig his fingers back into his knees. Roman drew in another shaky breath, trying to calm himself after the outburst. He glanced nervously up at Remus to gauge his reaction to his brother's crazed rambles.

Remus had leaned forward to hear him better over his sobs and shaky voice, almost tipping over the edge of the bed. He had his nails digging into Roman's comforter, and Roman was afraid he was about to rip holes into it. He already had a canopy to replace after all, he didn't want to have to replace that as well! They stared at each other in tense silence for a few moments more, one at a loss on what to say next and the other trying to process the onslaught of new information. Finally, Remus let go of the comforter, slid off the bed, and sat on the floor in front of him with his legs splayed out.

"So what you're saying is...wait, Jan Jan the Banana Man actually told you his name?"

"Well, he more so told Thomas and Patton it and...I just happened to be there too?"

"Huh. Never thought he'd tell anyone else. Well, not after Virgil…was Virgil there?"

"No. Unfortunately Virgil wasn't there to back me up. If he would have even taken my side at all...And Logan was...there in textbox spirit?"

"What'd nerd-a-lerd say?"

"He…well, I wasn't really paying much attention to- I was panicking okay! But I heard enough." He looked to the side, feeling shame well up in himself again. "Enough to know that he was taking his side, just like everyone else."

He heard a mumbled "Damn pronoun name again-" before Remus clapped his hands together with a loud boom that echoed through the large room. "Okay! And I can't believe I'm saying this but- tell me the whole story. Top dick to bottom butt."

"Ew." Roman wrinkled his nose up in disgust.

"Just tell me already!!" Annnddd another shuriken whizzed past his head. This time it embedded itself in his dresser. He hoped it hadn't cracked the wood too much...

Thus Roman spun the entire tale, starting at Janus' first appearance and ending with the absolute fiasco between the callback and the wedding that had occurred a couple of days ago...or had it been several? Time had muddied itself in his reclusion. He would take several breaks in his storytelling to go off on self-deprecating tangents that sounded an awful lot like dramatic monologues from some tragic play. More often than not these tangents were cut short by Remus, who would hurry them along with crude nicknames and threats to get back to the main story.

Somehow during this storytelling process both of the brothers had ended up splayed out side by side on top of Roman's fluffy white floor rug. As if they were kids gossiping on the floor at a sleepover. Remus had busied his hands by pulling out locks of the fur from the rug while Roman's own hands gesticulated wildly with the ups and downs of his tale. As he neared the end of the story, Roman curled up to lay on his side so he could face Remus and see his reaction.

"...and then I decided to go to your room. Because I had nowhere else to go. I didn't want to stay in my room with my own thoughts any longer...but I didn't want to see any of the other sides, either."

Remus was laying on his stomach, fiddling with the rug and swaying his feet in the air. At hearing the last bit, his feet fell back down to rest on the floor. "...But you wanted to see me?" His voice was the softest Roman had ever heard him speak. It was incredulous and almost...hopeful.

"I-I don't know. I-" Roman diverted his eyes across the room, sweeping over the damage done by them earlier and eventually landing on the dingy and scratched up closet door. He stared at it for a moment in thought before looking back over to Remus. "Do you ever…Ever miss sharing a bedroom?" He murmured.

Remus wrinkled his nose and glared at him, likely upset that he had dodged the question. "Not really. Your taste in stuff is far too Gucci-Gucci-bougie for me."

"No, not that!" Roman dismissed with a wave of his hand, " Not the furniture or anything like that. Just the…the feel of someone else being there too? Knowing that someone else is always there? Someone who's kind of like you but not really? Someone you can talk to when you have no one else?" Roman ran his fingers through his hair in distress. "Does that make any sense???"

Remus was still glaring at him, but now his eyebrows twitched with an unseen emotion. "Being brothers?" He hissed.

"What?"

Remus reached over to grab Roman's shoulders and shake him silly. "What you're describing. Is being brothers. What I wanted to be. What you didn't let us be. What you rejected. Shoved into the darkest corner. Placed under a Do Not Enter sign-"

"I'm sorry, okay! I didn't mean it!"

Remus paused in his shaking, several emotions flashing across his face. "Didn't mean it?"

"I know I-" Roman placed his hands over Remus' on his shoulders but didn't push him away and lowered his head in shame. "I acted rashly and perhaps a tad extreme to our new circumstances at the time. But it was for what I thought was the best. I only ever wanted to serve Thomas. I only ever wanted to please them. I never thought- I-" He looked sincerely back up into his brother's eyes. "I never thought about what that would mean for you. What that would do to you. What that would do to us. And for that, I'm sorry."

Remus loosened his grip but didn't let go entirely, staring intensely and attentively at Roman.

"I never actually wanted to push you away. I was just doing so because I thought- Well, okay admittedly I wasn't thinking much at all really but-" His eyes briefly flickered back to the closet door "I didn't want to become a dark side too! I didn't want to not be able to see Thomas. Or to be rejected by the others. I-" He laughed then. A dry, helpless laugh. He shifted to put his head in his hands. "But I guess that happened anyway, didn't it? What sick irony, huh? Maybe it's what I deserve… Maybe it's karmic retribution…"

"..."

"I shoved you away... And now they're shoving me away! I lost a brother so I could keep everyone and everything else in my life but now- now I've lost that, too- Now I have nothing. Now I am no-"

Remus tightened his grip on Roman's shoulders again and pulled him towards himself. He ended up knocking their heads together in the process-

"Ow! What the hell are you-"

-of wrapping his arms around Roman and hugging him to himself.

"You-You're hugging me?"

"You didn't lose a brother…" Remus pouted, as if he was a petulant toddler, "I've always been right fucking here if you'd open your stupid eyes for once."

Roman let out a shuddering breath, feeling an entirely new type of tear prickling at the corners of his eyes. He buried his head in Remus' shoulder and gripped onto the back of hid brother's clothes as if he was his last lifeline. He probably was.

Sure the hug was the most uncomfortable one he'd ever had, what with the hilt of the sword in Remus' stomach poking him in his own and his forehead still ringing with the pain from where Remus banged them together, but somehow it was still nice. It still felt like...home.

"...But I thought you hated me?"

"What gave you that idea?"

"You're always calling me names and hitting me with stuff!"

He felt Remus shrug. "You do the same thing."

"You do it first!"

"Eh- that's just what siblings do~~"

"With medieval weapons?!"

"Says the guy with a stash of swords under his bed!~" Remus sing-songed teasingly.

"Oh like you have room to talk- You said you keep daggers under your pillow!"

"Shouldn't everyone? You should keep some under yours too, Mr Whiny Prissy Pants!"

"And there's the name calling again."

"Hey now, you know it's the older siblings job to pick on the younger-"

"But I'm the older sibling! I manifested my form first!"

"Eh, semantics-schmantics! Same diff!"

"You're completely unreasonable!"

"And you're too stuck up!"

Roman let out a growl and smacked a hand over Remus' face, pushing him away and breaking up the hug. Remus let out a huff and reached over to slap the back of Roman's head in retaliation. This caused them to descend into a full on slap fight, looking like a slapstick scene straight out of a comedy movie.

They roughhoused like this, like a pair of bickering elementary schoolers, until they eventually tired themselves out and flipped gracelessly back onto the floor. They both stared at the ceiling for a few silent seconds before bursting out into fits of crazed laughter.

"That was the worst hug ever! Hahaha!"

"Hey! I don't have much practice! Heeheehee!"

"Haha! We must look like a couple of insane people lying here!"

"Haha! I knooowww~~ You're room is sooo trashed!~Heehee!"

"Hey! You're the one that trashed it! Hahaha!"

"Well you're the one who invited me here brozilla! Hahahoo!"

"You're the one that brought us here! Hahaheh! I wanted to be in your room! Heh!"

Their laughter eventually died down. But just as Roman was about to drift off into sleep from his position lying on the floor, he heard Remus ask, "Do you still want to go to my room?"

Roman blinked his eyes open. He sat up and looked forlornly around his own bedroom. The thought of staying here seemed lonely, now that he'd finally reunited and reconciled with his brother. And the pictures and posters adorning the walls just reminded him of past memories that only hurt to think about right now. "......Yeah. Yes, actually." He turned to Remus, who had also sat back up, " I know, I know it sounds crazy but-"

"I like crazy!" Remus grinned and raised his fingers in preparation to snap, causing Roman to have a flashback to the previous time he did it.

"Wait! Don't turn the room upside down again! We can just sink through the floor like we normally-"

"Sink through the floor? Okay, if you say so!" His grin widened maniacally and he snapped his fingers.

The floor started to shift and cave in on itself, causing Roman's furniture to all move closer to the center. A hole slowly opened under where the brothers had been sitting that pulled them down into it. Roman screamed as they were both sucked into the abyss.

His scream ended abruptly as he was flung up into Remus' room, the hole now acting as a geyser of sorts. Roman landed in an unruly manner and was knocked out of breath while Remus landed swiftly on his knee before rolling up into a standing position.

"Home, Smelly Home!" He proudly declared with his hands on his hips, either unaware of or uncaring towards his brother's struggle to get up from the floor.

"Shouldn't have opened my big mouth..." Mumbled Roman as he dusted his clothes off and tried to straighten his appearance, only for his work to be completely undone when Remus yanked him into his side and rustled his hair with his elbow. "Hey! Stop that! Do you have any idea how long it takes to do my hair?"

"Eh, it was already messed up anyways." Remus slapped Roman's shoulder, "Now come on slowpoke, I'm gonna give you the grand tour!" Remus then ran off further into his room, causing Roman to have to chase after him in order to keep up.

Remus showed him his bedroom first, which had a mirrored layout to Roman's, but the furniture was darker and more rustic. The decorations looked more like something out of a haunted mansion than a grand palace, like Roman's did. Remus then stopped by his weapons closet, where he finally removed the flamberge sword from his stomach and tossed it haphazardly inside. From what Roman could make out before Remus had shut the door again was that the room looked bigger on the inside than the title 'closet' would suggest. Remus then pointed out a few more small areas of note before eventually leading Roman to the back door.

Every side's room had a front door- where the other sides could enter their room, and a backdoor- where each side could go out of their room and into their own personal section of the mindscape. Most sides referred to it as their 'backyard', of sorts.

Roman followed Remus out of his backdoor and onto a balcony overlooking a dark, twisted forest. The balcony itself was the same design as Roman's own balcony but was made up of black marble instead of white. There were a few cracks here and there, yet it was overall fairly stable. English Ivy crept along the rails and crawled down the side of the castle. There were no stairs in sight, unlike with his own balcony, leading Roman to wonder whether Remus would take the time to climb down the Ivy or simply jump off of the railing in order to enter his backyard.

Remus spread his arms out in a grand gesture before spinning around to sit backwards on the railing, facing Roman. "So, what do ya' think? Badass digs, right?"

Roman, lost in thought and not expecting the question, blurted out the first thing to cross his mind. "We have similar balconies."

Remus raised an amused brow. "No shit, Sher-cock. We're in the same castle. Same castle, same floor plan. Duh."

"Wait, the same castle…?"

Remus shrugged, leaning far enough back on the railing to have Roman worry about him falling over the side of it, "It split when we did. We still share a room and space... it's just-" He waved around a hand dismissively. "Halved, now."

"Ah...so that's the reason we can visit each other without going through our front doors…" Roman walked up to lean forwards on the railing, right beside Remus. "Wonder why I didn't question that sooner?" He rested his chin in his hand with a sigh. "All this time, we were even in the same castle...the same area of the mindscape...and I never- I never even bothered to visit-"

Remus, who had grown bored of the conversation and had started to pick his nose, interrupted Roman's spiral by flicking boogers at him. "Hey now, none of that. You did enough moping back in your own room, you cry baby.*

"Ugh! Ew!" Roman sputtered indignantly and pulled out a doily to wipe his face. "You're disgusting." He huffed.

Remus stuck his tongue out at him and laughed. "If you start saying sad shit again, I'll give you a wet willy." He then leaned towards Roman and started wiggling his fingers menacingly.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me, bitch!"

"Well, if you do that, then I'll- Then I'll shove you off of the balcony!"

Remus faked a scandalized gasp and placed a hand over his chest while the other draped across his forehead. "You'd murder your own dearest brother?!"

"It wouldn't kill you, you overdramatic oaf, sides can't die!"

"You're calling me overdramatic?" Remus abandoned the pose to lean forward with a knowing grin. "Talk about the pot calling the kettle black."

"Oh shut up." Roman pushed Remus away, before turning around to sit beside him atop the railing.

Remus' eyes widened. "My goody two shoes brother is sitting precariously on a railing? Since when? Is it opposite day? "

"What do you mean? I do dangerous stuff all the time!"

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

Roman gestured wildly, "I slay the dragons! I defeat the monsters! I save the people! I...fight the bad guys…" Roman deflated as his hands fell beside him to lock the rail in a death grip. "But I guess I failed at all of that, huh? So much for being a goody two shoes…"

Remus hummed in thought, nails tapping against the black marble. His legs swayed back and forth as they both looked up at the night sky above them in companionable silence. Roman eventually let out a forlorn sigh and relaxed his grip on the railing. Suddenly, Remus let out a loud gasp and clapped his hands together, startling Roman who in turn almost tipped over the edge of the balcony.

"I have the best idea!"

"Oh no, you're planning something. That can never be good."

" No, no! Really, really! Listen, listen!" Remus smacked Roman's arm and shoulder excitedly in-between each word.

"Okay, okay! Just stop!" Roman slapped Remus' hands away. "Tell me then brother, what is it?"

Remus beamed and jumped to stand back on the balcony. "Okay so, you're saying that the other sides are shutting you out, right? And that they made you feel like a stinky doodoo head?"

"Gee, thanks for reminding me. Totally helps me feel better." Roman grimaced with a sarcastic thumbs up as Remus paced back and forth.

"Right! So, they're starting to treat you like a villain. And J-Anus as a good guy?"

"I- I guess? That's like the bare essentials of what happened...I mean, that's what it seems like--Ugh, just what are you getting at?!"

Remus stopped pacing to spin towards Roman and spread his hands out. "So why not just be a villain?"

"......what?"

"Join the dark sides with me!" Remus then awkwardly faked a modeling pose. "We have great fashion! And weapons! Lots of weapons!"

Roman scoffed. "I know, I saw your weapons closet." He slid off the railing to stand in front of his brother. "But what makes you think I'd want to be a villain?"

"Well, they made you feel fucking awful, right?" Remus leaned forward with a menacing grin, "So why not give them a little hell in return?"

"What, as in revenge?! I'm supposed to be a purveyor of justice!"

Remus shrugged and started circling Roman. "Where's the justice in always shutting you out? Of always telling you that everything you do is wrong? Of splitting us apart?" He stopped to put his hands on Roman's shoulders again. "Aren't you tired of trying to be a good guy all the time? Don't you just want to let loose and raise a little hell?"

Roman bit his lip and wrung his hands together. He looked down at his feet as his brother's words rang through his head. Where was the justice in that? He had always tried to do the right thing before. To be the good guy. To be the hero. But no one ever appreciated his efforts. Instead they always, always focused only on his mistakes.

The other sides' voices chimed off in his head.

"Roman, you can't do that." "Shut up Roman." "That was wrong, Roman." "Stop being so dramatic, Roman."

He pushed those invading voices furiously away and tried to reorganize his thoughts.

Him, joining the dark sides? Could it even be done? A light side had never switched over to the dark side before... Well, unless you counted the original Creativity and their split. Where a part of that Creativity had...had been pushed to the dark sides and…

Roman's eyes widened in realization as he looked back up at his brother. "You too." He breathed out.

Remus squinted his eyes and scrunched his nose at him. "Hah?"

"Always being shut out. Always being told everything you do is wrong. Being forced to split apart." Roman grabbed the hands that were on his shoulders to move them down and squeeze them reassuringly. "You experienced all of that too. Even more than I did…Don't you want to raise hell too?"

Roman grinned in a very in unprincely manner and released Remus' hands. He swept his arms aside in a grand motion. "Let's raise hell together, brother. What do you say?"

Remus stared at him blankly for a moment before breaking out into a shit eating grin of his own. "Hell yeah! Hell mother fucking yeah!" He jumped up and down excitedly and clapped his hands. "Oh! We're gonna have so much fun! Those butt holes have no idea what's coming."

Roman chuckled fondly at his brother's enthusiasm. He felt lighter than he had in years. Free of responsibility. Free of expectations. Free of limitations. Free to do whatever he wanted. Speaking of which…

"You mentioned fashion earlier, didn't you?" Roman pulled at the hem of his shirt in thought before smirking up at Remus. "I believe for me to officially join the dark sides, a makeover may be in order."

Remus nodded and grabbed his brother's hand to drag him back inside, chanting, "Makeover time! Makeover time!" The entire way while pumping his fist victoriously into the air.

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

The next morning, in Thomas' living room.

"-and a part of taking care of yourself is to not self-deprecate." Janus was explaining, standing next to Logan.

"Yeah, you've gotta compliment yourself sometimes, Thomas!" Patton added happily.

Thomas scratched the back of his head nervously. "I don't know guys... isn't that a little…"

"Conceited?" Virgil cut in, glaring over at Janus' before looking back to Thomas. "What if we end up doing that out loud in front of others? What if people think we're stuck up?"

"Well, it's better than always thinking so negatively of himself." Janus spat out.

"Janus has a point, Virgil. It's been proven that constant self-deprecating behavior can have a wide range of negative effects on one's psyche and mental health." Logan chinned in while adjusting his glasses. "Which could also lead to eventual negative effects on one's physical health, including-"

"Well, I mean yeah!-" Virgil rushed to interrupt, "He shouldn't think too badly of himself...but he shouldn't think too highly of himself, either!" He uncrossed his arms and gestured towards the empty space where Roman usually stood. "I mean, what if Thomas ends up as stuck up as Princy here, huh? What would you do then-"

"Wait-" Thomas interrupted him, "Where is Roman? Has anyone seen him lately?"

The sides fell silent as they all looked curiously towards the empty spot.

"I haven't seen him since Janus joined us... Patton, didn't you check up on him or something?"

"Well, yeah! Of course I did kiddo!" Patton nodded then pouted, "He didn't seem to want to talk to me though…"

"Has anyone actually talked to Roman in a while? Where is he?"

The sides gave Thomas varying degrees of shrugs and noncommittal answers in response.

Thomas sighed, "Really, guys?" He then looked towards the corner again and called out, "Roman! Are you there? Are you listening? If so, come on up! You should join us!"

They waited in awkward silence for a while for Roman to appear, or to at least respond to Thomas' call...until they heard a deep chuckle emanating from behind the tv.

"Join you? Nope! Not possible~"

Hands crept out from behind the tv, grabbing onto the wall, causing everyone in the room to immediately be alert. They remembered the last time they saw hands there...this couldn't be good! Something was wrong! Sure enough, Remus slowly emerged, climbing up the wall as if he was a lizard. He then twisted his head around, causing Patton to almost faint from fear. Thomas, meanwhile, backed away as far as he could without falling over the couch.

"I'm afraid he's already joined someone else!~"

Remus jumped off of the wall to land in Roman's designated spot. His head and body shifted back to their original positions and he grinned at the others with his arms spread out. Now, the others could see that along with his usual attire, he also donned a crooked and cracked silver crown atop his head. His purplish eyeshadow was gone, instead replaced with a messily applied sparkly silver eyeshadow. Some of the glitter from it fell down the sides of his face to freckle his cheeks as well. The wide grin of his lips was painted in a deep green lipstick.

"Me!"

"Remus…?" Janus breathed out, confused.

"I didn't call for you! I called for Roman!" Thomas shouted once he had regained his composure from witnessing such a horrifying sight.

Virgil bristled and stood up from where he had been leaning against the stairs. "Where is he? What did you do with him?" He bared his teeth at Remus as if he was an agitated guard dog.

Remus put his hands on his hips and threw his head back with a laugh. "What did I do to him?" He leaned forward with a smirk. "What did you do to him? Huh?"

"Wha-what do you mean? W-we didn't do anything..." Stammered out Patton.

"Also, did he change his makeup?" Muttered Thomas, "It actually looks kinda good…"

"Focus on the main issue here, dudes!" Virgil snapped his fingers at them both before turning back to Remus. "Okay, whatever. It doesn't matter wherever you put him, just give him back!"

Remus chuckled and stepped to the side, "You hear that, dear brother? Sounds like they're ready for you to come out!~"

At that, the tv seemed to flicker to life. A colorful error screen appeared and started to crackle and fizz. As the glow from the tv lit up the room, the rest of the room started to glitch along with it.

The sides glanced around nervously, fear creeping into their bones once more.

"What's going on? What's happening to the room?!" Thomas panicked.

Logan placed a hand on his chin. "These types of spatial effects seeming to happen in Thomas' physical living room instead of just inside the mindscape...could it be?"

"No…" Gasped Janus, "No, it can't be!"

"Oh but it can!~" Announced another voice from inside the tv.

Hands reached out from inside the error screen to grasp the sides of the tv. A form slowly climbed out of the tv and stepped into the living room.

"......Roman? What on earth are you wearing?!" Virgil waved a hand incredulously at his new get up.

Roman, now fully standing beside Remus in his usual spot, smirked at Virgil and flicked his cape. "It's called fashion, Midnight Query."

Roman's usual outfit was now black in all of the areas it used to be white. On top of that, he wore a red velvet cape with a white and black spotted fur trim. On his shoulder laid a skull where the cape connected and clasped shut. His upper eyelid was decorated in sparkly gold eyeshadow and thick black eyeliner which spread out into a cat-eye look. His smirk donned blood red lipstick and a crown identical to Remus' was atop his head, except his crown was golden and not crooked or cracked at all. He looked like he had stepped right out of a fairytale…but as an evil king instead of a noble prince.

"Perhaps you should try it sometime, Dark and Dreary. It might make you look less…" Roman made a point of looking Virgil up and down before waving his hand at him with a scowl, "Drab."

"Roman! Where have you been? I missed you. Your makeup looks great!" Patton rambled ecstatically.

"Missed me?" He sneered, "Ha! I bet you all didn't even realize that I was gone." Roman then looked down to check his meticulously manicured nails with a bored expression.

"Of course we did! That's why I called you!" Insisted Thomas.

Roman tsked and shook his head. "Oh Thomas, Thomas. Always the peacemaker." He moved the hand he had been checking to flip his cape over his shoulder. "But I'm not here to make peace. We're here to raise hell. Isn't that right, brother?"

In response, Remus summoned a pitch black flamberge sword and stabbed the blade into the ground. "Hell yeah we are!"

The area of the floor that he smashed cracked open to reveal an eerie green and yellow glow. Small shadow hands emerged as little demons started crawling through the cracks.

Roman summoned a longsword with a ruby embedded in its hilt and slashed at the wall. Red and orange flames burst forth from the rip as even more shadow demons started to join them.

The glitching of the room from the tv screen grew at an alarming rate, some of the glitches covering entire pieces of furniture.

"What on earth is happening!?" Thomas screamed, gesturing wildly at, well, everything.

"Roman, you need to stop this now!" Virgil growled, slipping into his Tempest Tongue.

"Yeah kiddo," chuckled Patton nervously as he tried to wrestle his hoodie away from a demon that was currently trying to steal it. "Isn't this a tad bit extreme?"

Roman laughed darkly, raising his sword into a shrug. "And why should I?"

Remus rested his elbow on Roman's shoulder, "We haven't even begun to have our fun yet!"

Janus narrowed his eyes at Remus, "Remus, this is not what I meant when I said-"

"Blah blah blah!" Remus mimed a mouth with his hand. "That's all you are, anacon-don't. All talk, no action!"

"What's going on?! Why isn't anyone answering me?!"

"Well, Thomas, it appears that Roman and Remus have initiated-" Logan started only to get interrupted by Virgil.

"They started Daymare Mode!" Virgil shouted as he angrily threw a demon that had been crawling on him into the wall, knocking it out instantly.

"Daymare Mode? What's Daymare Mode?!"

"It's a combination of Daydream Mode and Nightmare Mode." Janus explained while shaking a demon off of his hat with a sneer, "It's a state Creativity can only achieve when it's whole…"

"So, what? They can affect the real world now that they're working together?!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Thomas." Chastised Logan, "You're technically just hallucinating-"

"I'm hallucinating?!"

"Yes, that is what I just said."

A demon tugged at Logan's pant leg only to be sent running away in fear by a well-placed harsh glare.

Patton, finally having gotten his hoodie free, tied it back around his shoulders and clapped his hands. "Okay, you two! That's enough. I'm not sure what's gotten into you today, but-"

"Oh no, no, no." Roman waved a finger at him, "I'm afraid we're not going to be listening to you anymore, padre."

"We've got our own plans, Daddy DingDong!"

"Oh yeah?" Hissed Janus, "And what exactly are those?"

"You can't do them, whatever they are!" Virgil yelled out as he stomped on another demon's tail, sending it hopping away in pain. "We won't let you. I won't let you!"

Remus and Roman exchanged amused glances before turning back to the others.

"You don't have to let us do anything," Roman hummed, "We're the kings. We shall do whatever we want." He waved a dismissive hand.

"Hear ye, Hear ye! The Twin Kings of Creativity!" Hollered Remus, as both twins raised their swords triumphantly in the air, "We take no shit and kick some ass!"

"To us!" Roman high fived Remus' hand, then turned to grin menacingly at the others, "And now, time for you to go to hell."

"To hell?!" Thomas gasped, looking desperately back and forth at the other sides.

Logan's eyes widened, having figured out what they were planning to do. "Roman, if I'm correct- and I always am- then I'd advise against-"

"Too late, Deuce Banner!" Remus shouted triumphantly as he and Roman clashed their weapons together. The sound from the clang resonated in all of their heads, making their vision blurry.

Thomas gripped the sides of his head, trying to get the ringing to stop hurting his ears. His head felt like it was splitting open. And then, there was nothing. Just a fade to black.

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

Thomas gasped for air as he woke up. Wait, woke up? Had it all been a dream? Thank god-!

"Well, well, well. It's about damn time." Drawled Roman.

"We thought you were never gonna come to!" Laughed Remus.

Thomas jumped up in surprise from where he'd been laying on the floor, only to immediately regret moving so harshly as he felt his head swim. "Ow ow ow." He gripped his forehead and peered around, "What-"

"Welcome, welcome!" Roman proclaimed as he spread his arms out in a grand gesture. "To the Kingdom of Creativity."

Thomas looked up to see Roman and Remus sitting side by side on twin thrones, one gold with red cushions and one silver with green cushions. Roman sat up straight with impeccable posture and one leg crossed over the other. Remus lay sideways across his throne, kicking his feet and tossing what appeared to be a grenade up and down as if it was a baseball.

"...What? Where am I?"

"We just told you." Scoffed Roman, "You're in the Kingdom of Creativity." At Thomas' confused frown, he continued, "You're in our room, Thomas."

"Your room?" Thomas looked around at the ornate throne room. "It doesn't look like my living room, like the others' did."

"That's cause we're not as boring as the other sides." Sighed Roman, "We have much more pizazz." He gestured at the room around them. "We did some redecorating recently, actually. What do you think, hmm?"

The throne room was mainly black, with silver and gold furniture giving the darkness a stark contrast. Banners of their two symbols hung on opposite sides of the room in correspondence with each side's throne. Overall it gave off a majestic yet eerie feel.

"It's- Um." Thomas finally stood up from his position on the floor and glanced around nervously. "It's certainly something. But um, where are the others…?"

He had long since noticed that it was just him and the twins in this room. The others had seemingly vanished into thin air. Their continued disappearance was making him more and more uneasy as each second ticked by.

Remus huffed and casually threw the grenade over his shoulder and out a window, causing an explosion to be heard outside. "What's wrong Thomathy, our room not up to snuff with the others? You prefer Daddyo's and Scene-Kid's rooms? Huh?"

"What? No!" Thomas raised his hands placatingly, not wanting to anger the two currently volatile sides, "You're room is fine! It's great! It's just they were here and now they're not here and I was just wondering-"

"They're off on their own adventure right now, Thomas." Roman butted in. He leaned forward to place his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. "That doesn't matter, though. What matters right now is us. Don't you want to stay here with us, Thomas? We can show you around the castle~!"

"Um- No, that's fine... No thank you." Thomas smiled as his voice shook. "I'm sorry, I can't stay here... I need to find the others."

Roman's pleased smile immediately fell into a scowl, "Fine, then. You want to see the others so badly?" He stood up from his throne and gestured for his brother to do the same. "Then why don't you just join them already!"

The both summoned their new weapons again, causing Thomas to start to panic. "Wait! Don't! Not again!"

"Too late, Thomas. You should have accepted our gracious offer."

"We could've had so much fun together!" Chirped Remus.

"And we will! You're just not ready yet, it seems." Roman sighed with a disappointed frown, "Now, for the time being~"

"Have fun in hell instead!~" The twins chimed in unison as they clashed their swords together for a second time.

The clanging rang in Thomas' already aching head as everything fell into the blackness once more.

#creativitwins #Darkside!roman #darkside roman #dark!roman #my fics #sanders sides #sanders side fic #i had too much fun writing this #though the living room scene was way too many characters to keep up with holy shit #yes i ended it on a cliffhanger no i am not sorry #will i continue this au?? probably not lmao #the rest is up to your i-m-a-g-i-n-a-t-i-o-n!~~~

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years

Text

Ateez: They Think You Forgot Their Birthday

Kim Hongjoong:

As his big day was fast approaching, Hongjoong couldn't help but think about how you were going to surprise him this year. For weeks, he had been dropping subtle and not so subtle hints about what he wanted. But it seemed to always fall on deaf ears, almost like you had no idea what he was referring to, or changing the topic completely. When the day arrived, there was no happy birthday text, no note on his dresser, nothing to indicate that you wanted him somewhere.

Genuinely upset, he went straight to the studio, hoping to release his sadness through music. Upon arriving though, there was a yellow box with a red ribbon sitting on the couch. He inspected it closely and with curiosity, he opened it up. His eyes widened as he saw a brand new laptop and other components he needed to better his producing skills.

"You didn't think I'd actually forget right?"

Your voice startled him, but he quickly composed himself and pulled you into a hug.

"Oh my God baby! Thank you so much! It was exactly what I needed!" He began peppering kisses all over your face, super elated with the fact you do care about him and pay attention to him.

"I know. You aren't very subtle." You chuckled at him.

"So is this all?" Hongjoong asked.

You shook your head. "Just part of it. I wanted to take you out to brunch for a while, just until the guys give me the signal to bring you to your surprise party."

"It's not a surprise if you just told me." He pointed out.

"Well pretend to be surprised when we get there. We can't have you having a heart attack like last year."

You both started laughing at the memory of last year's fiasco before linking hands together, walking to your favorite restaurant.

Park Seonghwa:

You usually had a tendency to ask him weeks before his birthday if there was anything in particular he wanted or needed. But this year, you didn't. Although he found it odd, he didn't think too much of it. You probably were planning something elaborate and didn't want to spoil anything. It only made him more excited, often thinking about what you were planning.

But the day came, and when he called you, you didn't pick up. When he texted you, you gave a vague reply that you'd be busy for the entire day. His heart sank. How could you forget about his birthday? He spent more time in bed than he usually did, sighing loudly. When he finally got himself up, it was well past 11 a.m. His day got worse when he looked at the mess left by the 99 liners antics last night.

"Happy birthday to me." He said sarcastically to himself as he went to start cleaning up.

Before he could even get his roller, he was stopped by screeches.

"Hyung! What are you doing? You're the birthday boy!" Jongho took the roller away.

"You're not lifting a finger today. We'll clean up here. You already have plans." San chipped in as he started picking things up.

"I do?" Seonghwa asked, utterly confused.

"You do birthday boy." You said, walking in with a couple bags and set them on the table.

"Y/N.... I.." He couldn't get the words out.

"I know. You thought I forgot. Sorry. I just really wanted to surprise you." You explained.

You wrapped your arms around him, giving him a light peck on his lips.

He smiled, happy to know you didn't forget about him. And couldn't wait to see what you had in store.

Jeong Yunho:

He was always like a kid on Christmas, pestering you about what you were gonna get him, or if you were planning a party for him. He just couldn't contain his excitement. He toned it down after you dumped a bucket of cold water on him a few days before his birthday.

"Gift? Why would I get you a gift?" You asked him very seriously.

He was completely taken aback by your answer.

"Y-you know why .... don't you?" The worry could be heard by his tone.

"No I don't. Care to enlighten me?"

But he simply laughed nervously, telling you not to worry about it, that he was just playing with you. He was hurt though. For the next days, he moped around like a lost puppy, wondering how could you actually forget. He tried to not stay upset with you. You had been working a lot more these days, no doubt you were stressed and just forgot. It wasn't your fault. Still......

When the day came, his members gave him a jolly wake up, which did cheer him up a little, but you weren't there, so he was still sad. Throughout breakfast, even Seonghwa and Hongjoong looked agitated, glancing back and forth at their phones like they're waiting for something. That something did come, in the form of you bursting into the dorms.

"Sorry I'm late! There was something keeping me but I'm here!" You sounded out of breath.

"About damn time! He was about to cry." Hongjoong said.

You walked over to Yunho, cupping his cheeks in your hands.

"Did you think I forgot?" You asked him, to which he nodded, a sad pout on his lips.

Kissing his forehead, you smiled. "Never. I could never forget about my cutie pie."

A series of gags and cringing ensued from the rest of the boys.

"So what did keep you anyway?" Yunho asked, hoping it was his present.

An excited smile formed on your face, before you went back to the hallway, disappearing then reappearing with a box. You carefully set it down and opened it, revealing a fluffy and adorable puppy, much to Yunho's happiness and Seonghwa's horror.

"Oh my God! It's so cute! I love it! We're officially parents!" He ran to pick the pooch up and give you a loving kiss.

"I swear to God, I'm not cleaning up after it." Seonghwa warned.

Kang Yeosang:

He tried to pretend like he wasn't looking forward to your gift for his birthday, but the truth was he was super excited. He just liked to play it cool. However, you had been a little distant lately, working extra hours at work, hardly even having time to talk to him. Heck, sometimes you barely replied to his messages. He felt neglected and upset.

"Fine. I see how it is."

He then started giving you the cold shoulder as well, the silent treatment. Call him petty, but it wasn't fair that you're being like this on the week of his birthday, when it's supposed to be a happy occasion. Sometimes he even snapped at the members for little things, even though they weren't the problem.

When the day finally arrived, he was grumpy as hell. He refused anything the others offered him and was overall very moody. When you arrived, he didn't even look at you, refusing to acknowledge you like you did him.

"Ok, what's going on. It's your birthday, why are you like this?" You finally asked.

Sighing, he finally poured what was in his heart. He felt neglected, like you didn't care, like you forgot about his special day on purpose. You calmly listened to him before sitting next to him.

"I'm sorry you felt that way. It really wasn't like that. I was working extra hours because I got you this."

You pulled up the bag you were carrying and handed it to him. He grudgingly opened it and gasped when he realized it was the new drone model he had been eyeing for a while.

"Y-you got this. ...f-for me?" He couldn't believe it.

"Duh. You're an expensive person to shop for." You rolled your eyes.

He suddenly felt guilty. Putting the drone down, he hugged you tightly, whispering an apology for being an asshole to you. You told him it was ok and then ordered him to change out of his pajamas.

"Why?" Yeosang asked.

"We're going to get you your favorite fried chicken. " You answered.

"Assa! This day just got even better!"

Choi San:

San had a tendency of always finding out when you were planning a surprise for him. Whether it'd be that he accidentally overheard you, one of the boys accidentally said something, or he went out of his way to figure it out himself, he always knew. Therefore, you were extra cautious this year, you definitely wanted to surprise him. Even if that meant feigning ignorance that his birthday was coming up.

So whenever he subtly mentioned anything about it, you quickly shrugged it off, changing the topic. You even made the other boys swear themselves to secrecy and also pretend like they didn't know what you were planning. At that point, San became a sulky baby. How on earth could his s/o forget an important day?

When the day arrived, he was anything but happy. Not only did you not spend the night before, but there was no reply to his 'good morning' text. To top it off, the boys told him they got called into the company. He was on the verge of crying. This day could not get worse.

And it didn't. As soon as he stepped foot into the practice room, balloons and confetti were being thrown by you and the KQ staff. For the first time, San was genuinely surprised by the party.

"Happy birthday baby." You greeted him with a hug and kiss.

He actually teared up, explaining how he thought you forgot about him. You shook your head, explaining why you did what you did, and he completely understood.

"I promise I won't ever pull something like that again." You held up your pinkie, which he connected with his own.

"And I promise I won't be nosy next year." San promised.

"Good. Do you know how hard it is to keep a secret?" Wooyoung exclaimed, causing everyone to laugh.

Song Mingi:

It was extremely hard to keep Mingi's surprise hidden. He was clingy, not in a bad way, and loved to spend any free time he had with you. So keeping it a secret from him was extremely hard. That's where Yeosang came in. He hardly spoke at all, so he was the perfect one to help you with this sort of thing. Of course, that involved a lot of meetings and encrypted messages between you two.

Mingi noticed both of your odd behaviors and it kinda worried him. Then you seemed to have forgotten about his coming birthday and that's when he started panicking. You and Yeosang are hanging around each other a lot and you completely forgot about his birthday? That could only mean one thing: you two were probably meeting up behind his back. It honestly hurt him to think that.

The thoughts constantly bothered him, that even he forgot about his birthday and on the actual day, he secretly followed you to some fancy restaurant. No one was there except you.... and Yeosang! He fumed at seeing you two together, marching right up to you two, demanding to know what was going on. You and Yeosang just looked at each other.

"You tell him. This was your idea in the first place." Yeosang said.

"It takes two to tango buddy! You're not exactly innocent either! What kind of a friend are you, taking away my girl/boyfriend?!" Mingi was ready to throw hands.

That's when you and Yeosang asked him what the hell he was talking about. When you heard his suspicions, both of you couldn't help but burst into laughter.

"Honey, don't you remember what day it is?" You simply asked.

Mingi realized it was his birthday and he was able to put 2 and 2 together and realized, you guys were just planning a surprise for him. He felt really stupid for assuming such things, but you told him it was fine and decided to call the other boys over.

"It didn't go exactly as planned, but I hope you like it."

Mingi hugged you with a smile. "Trust me, I know I'll love it."

Jung Wooyoung:

Wooyoung always got excited when the month of his birthday came around. Cause you were always planning something that topped the last one. He often wondered if you would ever run out of ideas. You've done practically everything, how were you going to surprise him this year?

He was definitely surprised when you seemed to have no clue about why he'd be so happy about this month.

"I mean what's so great about it? It's cold and muddy, and it has been raining so much lately. It's gross." You told him one day.

Wooyoung just stayed quiet for once. He seriously couldn't believe you forgot what was coming up very soon. He pretended like he was fine though. He was not going to get upset over the fact you may have forgotten, but in reality, he was very sad. This may turn out to be the saddest birthday he'd ever have, because his s/o didn't remember the most basic thing about him.

However, the day came and he was shocked to see the huge party you organized for him. He was left speechless for the 2nd time in a week. But he was happy to know you didn't actually forget. You were just being extra secretive this time.

"Did you really believe I forgot?" You teased, knowing fully well that he was upset.

Wooyoung only scoffed and tried to play it off. "Pfft. No. What makes you think that?"

"You're a bad liar Jung Wooyoung." You poked his nose in a teasing manner.

"Come on! I'm the birthday boy! Can you tone down the teasing?" He pouted.

You kissed his cheek. "Fine, only cause I love you."

"But probably not as much as I love you." He winked.

Choi Jongho:

Honestly, Jongho never really needed an elaborate gift or party for his birthday. Just getting the day off and spending time with you uninterrupted was all he could ask for. So both of you often took the day off from your respective work places, giving a notice ahead of time to make sure they'd give it to you.

He was confused when you told him though that you'd be flying out that exact day on a business trip. When he asked you why did you agree, you responded that since you had nothing to do on that day, you of course had to go. He was shocked at your words. Did you really forget and you won't be here with him? He didn't say anything though, just wishing you good luck and that you'd stay safe on your trip.

He woke up feeling miserable. He wasn't going to be able to spend the day with you and that made him sad. He didn't want to even get out of bed. But soon, his Hyungs pulled him out, packing his belongings and making him look presentable. He asked them why they'd do this.

"You need to meet Y/N at the airport." Mingi answered.

"They left yesterday." Jongho refuted his statement.

"Nope. You're wrong. They're waiting for you so you two can fly out on a birthday vacation for you for a week." Mingi explained .

Jongho's eyes nearly burst out of their sockets when he heard that information.

"You didn't seriously think they forgot?" Mingi chuckled.

Jongho covered his embarrassed face. Of course you couldn't forget. He quickly got ready, wanting nothing more than to see you soon.

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines

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heyheydidjaknow · 3 years

Text

I may or may not have fucked up the, “Lets not do angst for Valentine’s day, ” thing. Please, somebody, send me something that might be considered fun, because giving me any sort of creative freedom, apparently, leads to this junk. As little as I actually want to write angst, it keeps happening. Also, yes, it’s first person. Thought it would fit this particular story better.

Valentines Day One-Shot 1

Donnie x Reader

She sat down on my lap, arms wrapping gently around my neck as she nestled her face into the crook of my neck. Her legs wrapped around me as she pressed herself against my chest, breathing a soft breeze in my ear. “Hey,” she mumbled softly. “Sup?”

It was still strange to me. Not bad. Extraordinary, almost, that she could find something like me comforting enough to hold this close, so close that I could feel her heartbeat against mine. Her voice was a song in it of itself, her eyes blindingly gorgeous, her lips…

“Nothing much.” I wrapped my arms around her waist, leaning back on my bed as she clung onto me like I was life itself.

“Cool, cool.” Her body relaxed against me as I ran my fingers through her hair softly. She traced the indentations of my shell almost absentmindedly. “Glad to hear it.”

There was something oddly domestic about all this, her curling into me as we chit-chatted. After all that had been happening over the past few months, both of us were welcome to this kind of normalcy. It felt safe.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” I smiled softly, “but you aren’t usually this clingy. Is something up?”

She slid farther down my body, crossing her forearms and resting her chin on the barrier. “Missed you is all,” she sighed. “Am I allowed?”

‘Missed me. She missed me.’ I felt my heart melt. “Encouraged, actually.”

She pursed her lips, suppressing a laugh. “Did you miss me?” She slid back up, placing her hands on either side of my head as she hovered over me.

I grinned, leaning up and pressing my lips against hers. I felt her smile as she cupped my face in her hands, pulling herself closer to me. I pushed myself upright, leaning back against the wall as she straddled me properly, moving her hands to the back of my neck as she tugged gently at my lips. Her chap stick tasted of strawberries.

She pulled back, placing her hands on my thighs as she leaned back. Her face was flushed a gorgeous pink, her chest rising and falling gently. She cleared her throat, running her tongue deliciously across her lips. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she giggled. “Jeez, you were never this forward before.”

“Wasn’t I?” I fiddled with her jacket absentmindedly. “Right now, I don’t remember.”

She shook her head. “You wanted to be?” She placed her hands over mine. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

I paused. ‘She feels so real.’ “Was I not passionate enough before? Be honest.”

“Hm?” Her eyes widened. “Oh, shit, I didn’t mean it like that.” Her face flushed darker. “I just thought it was cool, you know? I didn’t mean it as an insult.”

I slipped my hands under her jacket. “I didn’t take it as one,” I sighed. “Just wonderin’ is all.”

She leaned forward, placing her chin back on my chest. “I think you were a pretty damn good boyfriend to me, personally.” She shrugged. “I mean, I feel like I made my opinion on the matter very clear.”

I smiled ruefully. “You did, huh?”

“I mean, I hope I did.” She closed her eyes. “I wanted you to be happy, after all.” She brought her arms up and under her head. “Obviously, I didn’t do the best job in the world, but I think I did alright.”

“Personally?” I twirled a lock of her hair around my finger. “I think you did an excellent job.”

“Really?” She sounded almost confused by the statement. “But you’re sad because of me. I didn’t do my job right.”

I rolled my eyes, smiling. “When did I ever make it your job to think about whether I’m happy?”

“When you asked me to be your girlfriend.” She looked back up at me with her gorgeous eyes. “That’s when I considered it official, anyhow.”

“It was never your job.” I ran my tongue along the back of my teeth. “Not your job to protect me or the others, either. What’s the point in knowing how to swing a stick really hard if not to be able to protect myself?”

She laughed. “Please,” she scoffed. “You need protecting more than I do.”

“Do not,” I grumbled.

“Do too.” She reached up, gently tapping the space between my eyes. “Have you seen what’s happened since I left?”

I wrapped my fingers around her wrist, pulling it to my mouth and kissing it softly. “I think we’re doing pretty well on our own.”

“Sure.” I felt her heartbeat speed up. “You look totally fine.”

“This is the exception, not the standard.” I closed my eyes. “I think I deserve to indulge in you for a while. Splinter and Leo do it all the time with Karai.”

“But it’s not healthy.”

A lump rose in my throat as I held her closer. “I know.” I cleared my throat. “In my defense, it’s not the same.”

She placed her other hand on my face. “Liar,” she cooed. “It’s exactly the same.” I felt her shrug. “’ Course, I’m the queen of escapism, so I’m hardly one to judge.”

“Not that.” I kissed her hand, holding both her wrists and pulling them from my face. “I mean you.”

She looked up at me, blinked. “Huh?”

“You aren’t the same as the girl I was dating.” I ran my thumb over the radiuses in each of her wrists. “You don’t smell quite the same, or taste exactly like her, or feel quite like her.”

She sighed. “Always the observant one.” She pursed her lips. “Do I look the same?”

I nodded. “You look just like you did.”

“I’m surprised.”

I shrugged. “Your phone had a lot of photos of us. One video, too; you sound just like you did.”

“Speaking of smell,” she glanced at my sleeve, “are you planning on washing that thing any time soon?”

I shake my head.

“Why?”

I hesitate. “It’s all I have left of you. I’m scared to.”

“See, that’s just blatantly not true.” She did not try to get my hands off her. “You have my phone.”

“You know what I mean.” I break eye contact. “This is the only physical thing I have of yours.”

“It’s still morbid.” She stuck her tongue out at me. “And I was wearing it for a long time. It certainly could use some TLC.”

‘I should have asked what that stood for when we were back home.’ “But it smells a little like you, and I don’t want to wash the smell out.”

“Dude, I’m not going to haunt you across time over a stupid jacket.” She rolled her eyes at my care. “It’s not even a good jacket; it’s from my middle school.”

“It’s not that I think you’ll hate me for it,” I repeated. “It’s just that it’s a little piece of you and I want that little piece of you to stay the same as it was before we left.”

“Before I died,” she corrected matter-of-factly. “You want it to stay the same as it did before I died.”

“But you’re not dead,” I countered. “If you were, then why would I care so much about getting back home?”

“What,” she teased, “are you saving the world not just out of the goodness of your heart?”

“No amount of goodness,” I sigh, “is worth living out in space over. We just want to get back home.”

“Is it not an adventure?” She rolled over, back against my chest as she looked back at me. “Hanging with one of the universe’s greatest minds must be cool.”

“Sure,” I concede, “but I’d rather be back on Earth with you.”

She whistled. “You keep talkin’ like that,” she warned cheekily, “and I might start getting the idea you like me or something.”

“We wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

She sat up slowly. “I wish we could stay like that for longer,” she sighed, “but you’re on deck in a couple minutes.” She stretched her hands above her head. She paused. “I’m not going to encourage false hope,” she started, “but, if we ever get to see one another in the proper flesh, treat me right, okay? You’ll have to give me the rundown when you see me again.”

I followed suit as she climbed off me, rubbing my face with my hand. “I will,” I promise. “It’s not going to be an if, alright?”

She paused. She looked back at me, smiled. “You know something, Donnie?” She smiled softly. “You’re really fuckin awesome.

I felt my face heat up. “Thanks.”

She turned to face me properly. “See you later.” She waved, the scene dissolving around me.

I got to my feet, walking to the door.

“It’s going to be a matter of when.” I felt my hand grip around her jacket. “I promise. I’ll make this right.”

List of Works

#tmnt #tmnt donnie #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt 2k12 #tmnt donatello #tmnt 2012 #donnie #donnie x reader #donatello x reader #2012 donnie #donatello #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2012 #major character death #angst?#possibly?#jacket #simulation #teenage mutant ninja turtles #black hole

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mightynonagesimus · 3 years

Text

15 Minutes (What If I Told You)

ANGST WITH AN UNHAPPY ENDING. DO NOT READ FOR A GOOD TIME. This is a supercorp oneshot I wrote after I hear the title song. Very Angsty, you are warned. Trigger Warning : Angst, mentions of suicidal thoughts, depression, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. Obiviously. This is pre-apocalypse.

11:27,

Monday, July 13th

Lena's Loft,

National City.

It was very unnoticeable at first. Solar flares from a nearby galaxy far enough that they didn't think much of it. A few explosions a couple galaxies down hardly warranted the DEO's involvement. Besides, Earth had different things to worry about. The Team had different things to worry about. Probably. Lena wouldn't know anymore, would she? After the Fortress, she had taken extra precautions to block every single one of them out of her life. She didn't need anyone. She just needed to save the world.

And to be honest? Lena was ashamed it took her that long to figure it out. It wasn't like her. The Prodigy of her generation. The CEO of one of the biggest Tech Corporations in America. The sister of Earth's most infamous criminal mastermind.

If she had just gotten out of bed, checked any of her projects, called her secretary back. But she was too numb, too empty. Lying in bed, unable to move or think. Wishing to die. She couldn't even muster up the energy to lift a hand, it was just... pathetic.

After a week, Jess had had enough. It took Sam flying over from Metropolis to even get Lena out of bed. Sam had no idea about Kara, of course. But it didn't take long for her to march over to Alex's apartment and threaten her friend until the truth spilled. Lena had never seen that furious. Over Lena, of all people.

She didn't deserve Sam.

***

Sam had been pestering her all week. Bringing over food and staying with her every night. Lena felt like an asshole, taking up so much of her time. That was the main reason she returned to L-Corp after a week That was when she found out about the satellite malfunctions. Some radioactive signature was messing with their signals. That was fine, this was a problem Lena could fix, right? Easy.

Wrong. Turns out the signature was something her systems could recognize. Kryptonite. A giant chunky piece of Kryptonite and debris about the size of a small moon. A Krypto-Comet that was hurtling at half the speed of light from deep space, directly towards Earth.

Mondays, right?

Of course, she contacted the DEO immediately. They were horrified. For a Secret Government Agency handling the extraterrestrial, they had some shockingly bad tech. She wasn't really surprised. Also, they might have been slightly distracted with Leviathan. Lena had spent the next three days cooped up in a lab with Brainiac 5 desperately trying to come up with a way to deflect it or destroy it, or anything really. Usually, an Anti-Kryptonite suit and Supergirl would have taken care of the problem real quick, but considering the size of the comet and the excessive amount of Kryptonite on it, it just wouldn't be possible. There was no time to call for back-up from Argo City either, with the satellites malfunctioning.

The last five days were utter chaos. Naturally, the news hit the public hard. It was pandemonium, but how could you keep a goddamn meteorite impact from them? The skies were already turning purple.

Lena however, was still in her lab. Over the course of three days, a complete whirlwind of people checked in and out of her lab. People she had never met before. People she had never even heard of. Cisco Ramon, Caitlin Snow. A scientist named Raymond Palmer with some very interesting ideas on molecular structure and shrinkage. Felicity Smoak. Alex pulled her aside during lunch to explain about the Multiverse.

What. Even. What.

Okay.

It felt like her brain was exploding, but she was their best chance of saving the planet. She had to pull it together. She can't show any weakness.

Alex called for another excruciating meeting the second day.

"Attention! I have some news." Alex exhaled slowly. "Sara?"

"I'm sorry guys, but it's bad. We were unable to prevent this event from not occurring. It happens rarely, but this can't be prevented by modifying the timeline. It's inevitable. We have to find other ways."

"What if we move your population to our Earth?" Harry? Larry? The guy in red spandex asked.

"More than half out Earth's population have doppelgangers in yours. It will mess with the balance of your universe. We can't move them. How about finding an empty universe?"

"Kara is out looking for one, but every Earth we found was either ruined or full. That's too long a shot, I don't think we'll find one in time."

"Well, theoretically-" Brainy hesitated - "My ancestors had a way of...dealing with planets that disagreed with them. They would shrink them down and have them as trophies."

"We can't shrink the planet, the gravitation of the solar system would collapse and we would fall into the sun." Lena muttered distractedly, fiddling with her pen.

"Let's not do that. Any luck contacting Superman?"

"Radio silence. The radiation is messing with communications."

"We could push it through a wormhole, or a portal, but-"

"The comet will be here before we could begin to build it. What if we transport our people to a different planet?"

"Seven billion people on a different planet without nearly enough food and water?"

"Or maybe into a space station?"

"We have four days. To transport seven billion people. And essential items."

"Yeah, that's not gonna work either."

"Okay, let's keep at it guys." Alex clapped her hands together. "There IS a way, we just don't know it yet."

***

Yeah, there was no other way. The days went by in a whirl. They came up with theory after theory, but it was too late. Their world was going to end. Nothing can stop it.

During the last day, Alex ordered every non-Earth-38 person off the universe. And even though there was some resistance, everyone sombrely agreed it was the best move.

A surprising lot of friendships were made that week. World-ending threats tend to do that, apparently. Lena personally never wanted to experience Nia and Zari Tarazi try to cook a pizza together ever again. They almost blasted the dough halfway across the DEO building and into the miniature Nuclear Reactor.

Lena would never, not in a million years, ever admit it; but she wanted what they had.

She couldn't fathom that comfort, that mutual understanding of trust that Nia shared with Zari. How did they build it? How could they rely on it, when they had been strangers only a week ago? How could you share your secrets, yourself, with someone who could potentially turn against you, someone who could be lying through their teeth like Eve was, someone who might hate you just because of a name that you can't change?

Not that anything could be done now. It was too late.

They were gathered at the DEO training facility off-city to say their final goodbyes, except Lena was at L-Corp. It took her a while to accept it, but this time it was real. There was no hail mary, no high stake final masterplan left in her. She was going to die, along with her planet.

So it was the perfect time to break out her finest bottle of scotch.

The L-Corp building was deadly silent. Any other day, Lena would have enjoyed it. The building was almost never fully empty, with the security team and the journalists and the interns who never sleep. Today it put her on edge.

Because she did this. Lena caused all this, it was Lena's fault. She was the reason-

'Alex.'

The tiny blue screen lit up on her desk, ringing insistently. The tech mogul was almost relieved that something interrupted.

The silence. Interrupted the silence.

Lena brought it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Lena!? Where the hell are you?" For a second, Lena relished the panic in Alex's voice. Of course, it probably was over the world ending, but she wanted to pretend that it was over Lena. That Alex actually cared about her.

"What do need me to do, Director Danvers?" Her voice was meant to be posh and clipped as always, but it came out slightly more drunk than she wanted it to.

"Wha-Nothing! I just couldn't find you anywhere so I thought I'd check up on you." Aww, Alex. You don't need to pretend, everything is gonna go to shit anyway.

"Is Sam still there?"

"Uh- Yes. Yeah, she's here. Do you want to talk to her?"

"Nooo." Lena considered it. "No, definitely not."

"Lena, are you drunk?"

Lena exhaled loudly. "Why did you call me, Director?"

"Because the universe is ending!" Lena cringed away from the phone. That was too loud for her sleep-deprived brain.

"I don't see your point." She huffed back.

"Goddammit. Look, Kara and I will keep looking for a solution, you don't need to worry, okay? You know she never gives up. Nia and the others-"

"Please just stop." Lena begged.

"I-Stop?" Lena could picture Alex's face. She hated that she did.

"I don't care! About anything, anymore. Just leave me alone. Goodbye, Alex."Sorry I pulled so much shit.

Lena switched it off and chucked it across the room, onto her couch. It bounced over the cushions and fell over.

She was alone, now.

"Hope?"

"Greetings, miss Luthor. What can I do for you today?" Hope was always here. Lena's only constant companion through everything. Even if it did wear the face of her traitor friend.

"You understand that this will be the last day?"

"Yes, miss Luthor-"

"Lena. Call me Lena."

The robot cocked its head to the side. Why did Lena program it so life-like?

"Lena. Would you like for me to call anyone else?"

"No, thank you. How long is it now?"

"Seventeen minutes and three seconds."

Lena cradled her head. It felt like her brain was swimming in the alcohol. At least she won't have to feel this tomorrow.

"Execute terminal orders and shut down, please."

"Executed. Goodbye, Miss Luthor."

The hologram blinked off. Lena swirled the last of the scotch in her glass. It didn't taste nearly as good as she hoped. She set it down in distaste.

God, this was all her doing, wasn't it?

If only Lex could see her now, pushing everyone away, alone and lonely on top of the empire that was built by her psychopathic family. Everything he said that day was true.

And it was all Lena's fault. Because she chose to trust Kara. She chose her new family. She wanted that. She craved that. Even when she knew she could never have it. She's always craved that. This wonderful 'family' she could love with all her heart. They would have been her people, they would love her no matter her last name. They would support her through hell and back. She fucking fantasized about how they would be there for her every birthday, about how she would shower them with love and affection, about game nights and road trips. She didn't give a shit about romantic, platonic, she just wanted someone to be there at the airport when she comes back from month-long expeditions through Europe.

It all seems so naive now. She was still here, on top of an empty building, because of her choices. Because of her stupid, stubborn pride. She must have chosen this, right? This is what she wanted. To be alone. Sixteen minutes from the world ending. She had chosen to be alone, bitter, angry at herself for doing what she had done.

Fuck, no.

But it was too late. Too late to accept her family, too late to enjoy them. Too late to save the world. Too late to apologize.

Too-fucking-late.

Fuuuuuuck, she messed up. What she wouldn't give to go back in time, find her younger self and...eughh. Berate her? Explain? Mug her? Lena had no idea.

This scotch tastes like shit.

Why is time so slow?

Tick.

Tock.

Her life is shit. She would like a refund.

Tick.

The alcohol is really getting to her brain, cause she found that funny.

Toc-

The entire floor rattled when the door flies open behind her. *

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Oh hey, Sam. You did come.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" She crossed her arms, raising one brow at her CFO.

"Lena, no." Sam stomped over and wretched the glass away from Lena.

"Goddammit, leave me alone, Sam!" Why I am so shitty all the time Sam?

"No." She repeated firmly.

"What?"

"No. I should have done this a long time ago when I first got back here. I'm not leaving you alone, I'm not letting you drink yourself to death. I'm not let you wallow in your misery when the world is fucking ending and you still stubbornly refuse to put down your pride. I'm not leaving!"

She walked over to Lena's hidden break room and poured the scotch down the sink.

"But I-"

"No. Listen, you dumbass. You've been through some horrible, messed-up shit. Your brother almost destroyed the world multiple times. Your mother was a narcissistic fucking psychopath. I cannot even begin to understand how you feel most of the time. Having every move scrutinized by the world, feeling like you can't trust anyone."

"I trust you."

Sam paused. "I-What?"

"I trust you, Sam. You may be the only person who I can be myself around right now. And-And I know that isn't fair to you, me having constant breakdowns. I keep you from your life and Ruby and I hate it-"

"Lena!" Sam takes her hand. "You can always tell me about it. Everything. And I won't lie, helping you through your trauma isn't easy, especially since you refuse to meet a therapist. But that doesn't mean you can keep everything to yourself. It means that your pain, it matters to me. It is a piece of you that you have shared with me, and it isn't going to fucking evaporate the second I know about it. You matter. Your trauma matters. To me, and to everyone at the DEO. I want to help you." She inhaled deeply.

"And I can't promise that everything is going to be fine, I don't even know if we'll exist an hour from now, but I can tell you this. You don't deserve all this pain. That doesn't mean you don't have it. You are not responsible for what your family did, and you are not responsible for your mother's death. You don't deserve to die alone and at odds with everyone you love."

"Sam, but I-"

"And I'm sorry, I know Kara and the others messed up. But they love you. They are your family now. And I can't watch you punish yourself over this. Lena, it's time to let go."

Tears lined Lena's eyes. "I can't do it, Sam!"

"You can."

"I can't! I trusted Kara with everything. I shared every piece of me with her. Love and family were supposed to cure me! I made myself completely powerless, I was vulnerable, and she threw it back at my face. I cannot make that mistake again!"

"It's not fucking magic, Lena! Love isn't a cure-all. It doesn't mean everything bad that ever happened disappears! It only means that you aren't alone in your fight. Family and friendship, it takes work! You have to see them, and they have to see you. And Kara and the others, they love you!"

"If they fucking love me so much, why do they keep hurting me? Why am I the only one who gets lied to?!"

"It not that fucking simple! Everyone there has their own stuff. We're fucking terrified all the time. And now everything we ever feared is happening, and we can't even fucking be together!"

"What, now you're on their side?!" Lena heard the words spill out her head as messily as she felt, drenched in bitterness and insecurity. "Should've known that you would turn on me too."

Regret fills her immediately, but Lena drops Sam's hand like a searing pan.

Fuck.

"How can you think that?" Sam's voice was quiet now. Her eyes, Lena realized, were also filled with tears.

This is it. This is the moment I chase away the last person who's ever cared for me. One last screw over that will be wiped after the comet hits. One more mistake in my endless list.

Sam raised her arms. Lena reflexively leaned back, her heart hammering against her chest. Shit. She knew how this goes. She's seen enough fights between Lillian and Lionel end. She could hear the resonating crack from almost two decades ago. Lionel might have loved Lena, but he wasn't all that kind to Lillian.

You deserve this. You failed. You failed to protect yourself, failed to protect the universe. You are never going to be enough. You failed both your families, you failed yourself.

Warmth burst around her. Sam wrapped her arms around Lena.

What in the world... why was Sam hugging her?

Shit, this feels nice.

"Sam?"

"There are no sides, Lena. That's the whole point. You are a part of this family, and we will fight like hell to keep it that way." Sam stroked her hair. "We aren't perfect, we are flawed, we hurt each other. But we aren't alone. We love fiercely, and we have each other's back. We take care of our own. And you are one of us. We love you. We are here if you accept us."

Lena sniffled against Sam's shirt. A fierce rush of gratitude rushed through her. Sam has always been her rock, her constant for almost six years now. She's had her back so many times. Her best friend.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Sam." Lena sobbed. "Shit, it's too late. I can't fix everything. I messed up. I messed the whole thing up-"

"Hey. There's still time." Sam drew back and swiped at her eyes. "You can still call Alex. We have... seven minutes left."

Lena nodded, biting her lip.

"Thank you, Sam."

She shakily dialed her phone.

"Alex?"

***

"Hi! Aunt Lena!" A little bundle of joy crawled into Lena's lap and gave her a hug.

Ruby. She always meant a lot to Lena. Maybe because Lena never really had an aunt while she grew up. Maybe because her hugs were made of pure love; because Ruby is the most wonderful little human Lena ever met. Maybe because there was no tension, no tears involved. Ruby felt like hugging Lena, so she did.

It was the first time Lena cracked a smile in over a year.

"Hello, little monkey. Did you eavesdrop our whole fight?" She mussed her hair.

"Hey! I'm fourteen now. Not so little anymore." She carefully flattened her hair down. "And I know what swear words are, Auntie."

"Do you, now?"

"Yes!" She huffed. "Mom said she's making Mac and Cheese. She said your fridge was full of atrocious rabbit fodder and she hid about seventy percent of your kale." Ruby's voice dropped low and she whispered conspiratorially. "It's behind the eggs, don't tell her said that. Not that we'd be needing it anymore." She glanced sadly at the red skies.

"Are you okay, little monkey?"

"Aunt Lena, is there really no way to destroy the comet?" Ruby asked her.

Lena's heart broke. At that moment, she would've given anything to be back in her lab three weeks ago when they first found the comet. To have found a way out of this catastrophe.

She smiled sadly at Ruby. "I'm sorry, monkey. There's nothing we can do."

How do you tell a child that you failed her, that the entire world was gonna burn? That they were all going to die?

"It's okay, Aunt Lena. I love you." She kissed Lena on the cheek.

The elevator bell dinged and Lena could hear the doors open with a hiss. Her's mouth got just a little dry.

"I'm going to go help mom with the cheese. You should talk to them."

"Wait, Ruby-" she was gone. Great.

Lena exhaled shakily and got to her feet.

Here goes. Oh god. Why did I do this? This is a bad idea, shit. Shit, shit, shit. They still hate me why did I call them, they- Alex.

It was Alex. Suddenly, it wasn't the monsters that she was facing. It was Alex and Kelly and Nia and Brainy. Her family.

Alex stumbled forward first. "Lena, I-" She interrupted herself by crashing into Lena-"I'm so fucking sorry. I should've told you when the whole thing with Reign happened, but then Kara told me that she had to work things out between you and Supergirl, and then I lost my memories for a while-" Lena realized with a jerk that Alex was sobbing against her shoulder.

"-I feel like such an awful friend." Alex's voice cracked.

"Ale-Alex! Hey, it's okay." And for the first time, Lena really meant it. "I'm sorry too. I just felt-"

"Betrayed. I know. I'm sorry." She repeated, stepping away from Lena. She gave Lena a small smile. Smaller, but much like the one she gave Lena the first time they met in Kara's apartment. Tired, but it gives off so much warmth that Lena could feel it. It reminded Lena of all the times they spent together. All the days when they made small explosions in her lab and teamed up for game night. When Alex took her to self-defense classes and showed her fancy tricks with her guns. She was Lena's best friend. She is.

"Brainy, Nia." God, it felt good to- Lena couldn't even describe it. She missed this. Her friendship with Brainy was one of the few things she treasured most in the world. He was the only one who could ever match her intellect, her best lab partner. Her friend. And to the lonely twelve-year-old genius from the Luthor family, that was everything. And Nia was one of the bravest people Lena knew, unafraid to be herself and face the world. Fighting every day for the greater good. And she was more than that, she was the one who taught Lena that she didn't have to hide who she was. Lena will be a Luthor her entire life. She just had to embrace it. Or as Nia had framed, quite eloquently; 'own it.'

Kelly, and her crazy therapy skills. Lena regretted not spending more time with her. She was such a wonderful person. Kelly was the silent rock of their group, Lena could see that now. She was always there and she knew exactly what to say. In Lena's eyes, she was magical. So determined in supporting her friends through everything. The sweetest, most bad-ass person out of them all.

Shit, Lena was crying now.

"No more little boxes, Lena." Brainy whispered in her ear, and she giggled. Even Lena was surprised by that.

He was right. No more boxes. She has three minutes left to live and she wasn't going to crush herself with the weight of her stupid boxes.

There was still one more person-

"Kara. I'm sorry Lena, she- couldn't make it." Alex squeezed her shoulder. "Barry's Earth- they don't have a Kara. She can live there and not disintegrate. I told her to go with him. I'm sorry, Lena."

Lena's lungs filled with lead.

"Yes, of course." Lena's voice sounded far away even to herself. "She deserves to live there, in peace. I'm sorry, excuse me."

Something akin to panic swelled over her. Anxiety? Sorrow? Feelings were not Lena's strong suit. Panic attacks, unfortunately, she's already dealt with. She backed away from the room, almost knocking Sam over in the process. "Uh- Bathroom."

The door slammed behind her, and Lena splashed her face with cold water.

She would never get to apologize, she would never even get to see Kara again. Her best friend. Her soulmate. And now, she would die without Kara knowing- knowing that-

Because Lena only ever hated herself. She could never,ever hate Kara.

She curled into a ball on the floor, trying to physically hold herself together so she didn't fall apart. She couldn't fall apart, not right now. Her heart was racing and her breathing was short and distressed.

"Lena? Open the door." Alex's voice, carried in through the door.

"I-I'll be right out!" Even Lena knew they won't buy it. She could hear her voice crack with emotion.

"Lena? You don't have to go through this alone, I just told you that." Her voice was soft, and Lena chose to listen.

"I know it's hard. I know you miss her, and I can't imagine what it must feel after everything that happened between you and Kara. It was difficult for me too. I'm leaving her alone, just like everyone else in her life. I'm leaving her and her world is ending again, and we can't do anything about it. I hate it. I broke my promise. She doesn't deserve this pain, and you don't either."

The door creaked open. Suddenly it was Alex surprised by the hug.

"Alex, I'm so sorry."

"Lena." Alex wrapped her arms around the small brunette. "Trust me, she knows. She knows that you love her."

Lena sniffed and pulled back.

"That's just it, Alex." Lena's voice grew softer. "She doesn't know that I'm in love with her."

"You're in love with me?" A small, hopeful voice echoed from the back of the room.

The blonde superhero stepped forward with the sunny smile Lena loved. "Sorry I'm late but, I bought emergency Potstickers." She waved a bag at the rest of them.

"Kara-" The word was out of her mouth before she realized it, but then it was Lena in Kara's arms and nothing else mattered. She buried her head in the Kryptonian's shoulders.

"Hey." Kara tucked a strand of hair behind Lena's mismatched eyes, and Lena fucking melted. "You know, I've been doing some research." Her voice was low and breathy.

"Oh yeah?" Lena's eyes shined as bright as the red skies outside. Kara thought she could see the whole galaxy in her them.

"I think I finally know what Quantum Entanglement means." She rested her forehead against Lena's and smiled softly.

Lena's heart was racing. She reached up and caught Kara's lips in hers.

"I love you too, Lena."

***

"System error. Terminal order simulation failed."

Lena gasped and fell to her knees.

"Redirect operations to internal systems." She gasped, tears streaming down her face.

Just a few more, a few more minutes. Please. I need to hold her. I need to be held by her.

"Simulation failed."

"No! No, no, no. Please. Try again." Lena fumbled with her screen.

"Simulation failed."

"TRY AGAIN, GODDAMMIT." Lena cried, her voice full of raw emotion.

"Simulation failed. Shutting down. Thirty seconds left in final countdown."

"NO! I SAID FUCKING TRY AGAIN!"

"Twenty-five seconds."

The air was getting hotter. She could already see the streaks of green and red raining down from above outside Kara's window.

"Nooo." She sobbed. "Please, I need to see them. I need to hold her. Please." She crumpled on the floor, holding Kara's green hoodie in her hand. The last piece of her Lena had. The worst part is, Kara wasn't dead. Just lost forever, to Lena.

"Ten seconds."

"Please."

"Five seconds."

"I don't want to be alone." She whispered.

Here's my twitter, go yell at me. https://twitter.com/Keroessa24

#supergirl #supercorp #lena luthor #karlena #kara danvers #sam arias #alex danvers #reigncorp #agentcorp #angst with a sad ending #world ending #apocalypse #lena luthor needs a hug #major character death #post s5 #depression #suicidal thoughts

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beneaththetangles · 3 years

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Reader’s Corner: Carole & Tuesday, Rascal Does Not Dream of Siscon Idol, and The Rampage of Haruhi Suzumiya

Rascal Does Not Dream of Siscon Idol (Rascal, Vol. 4)

My most consistent complaint about the Rascal series, which I otherwise find charming, is that the stories are too full of contrivances. with plots points and character actions often making little sense. Though these developments are often small, such as an explanation that the sisters at the center of this volume aren’t apologizing to each other after a fight because neither would accept such apologies, when that hardly seems true, the way they impact character development and the plot by changing both for the sake of reaching certain resolutions and mile markers in the text, rather than letting the characters and their situations play out naturally, is frequent and significant. The same issue continues, though thankfully at a lesser extent, with Siscon, the fourth volume of the Rascal series, which introduces Mai’s half-sister, Nodoka, an idol in her own right but one far less famous than her actress sister. Both are impacted by Adolescent Syndrome in this volume, switching bodies and being forced to act as one another in different realms and levels of show business. The dialogue between Sakuta and Nadoka is almost as delightful as between him and Mai, and features frequently throughout the text in this fun and warm read which continues the series’ delightful balance between playful adolescence and development of authentic relationships between characters, in whom I’m now fully invested. ~ Twwk

Rascal Does Not Dream of Siscon Idol is published by Yen Press.*

Yokohama Station SF

Not every robot overlord is like Skynet, intent on killing all humanity, with android enforcers that are nigh impossible to kill. Sometimes, the enforcers are turnstiles that not only keep the ticketless out of the station but eject rules violaters to unoccupied spaces to meet their deaths by starvation, and sometimes the master computer is just railroad infrastructure consuming the entire island of Honshu via slow, automated urban renewal. This unique and immensely absorbing post-apocalyptic novel begins long after the “Winter War” devastated Earth, and Yokohama Station, a concrete and metal structure growing seemingly without end, has covered almost all of Honshu and threatens the neighboring islands. Hiroto, lives on a sliver of land just outside the behemoth structure on a tiny beach community until an “Insider,” ejected from within the station, gives him a chance to explore the vast unit for five days, also charging him with finding a resistance leader, while he brings in a personal quest of his own. From the description, you may sense both Terminator and Ready Player One vibes, though its more similar in tone and eventually story to the latter, though cutting out that work’s affection for nerd culture and replacing it with efficient writing. Yokohama Station SF features a clever and well-crafted but familiar world, interesting artificial intelligence units—always a plus for me—and believable science fiction, having been written by an actual scientist, Yuba Isukari. Yokohama Station SF is his first novel, and as a compelling piece of sci-fi with anime sensibilities, it is a significant achievement. Paraphrasing another overlord of a sci-fi franchise, I shall be watching Mr. Isukari’s career with great interest. ~ Twwk

Yokohama Station SF is published by Yen Press.*

Love of Kill, Vol. 1

The quiet, beautiful Chateau Dankworth is a bounty hunter, working for an organization that contracts with mafia families to eliminate targets. Ryan-Ha Song is also an assassin, but an especially notorious one, skilled and feared for his prowess. When these two become entangled, it’s not in a deathmatch—it’s because the enigmatic Song wants to date Chateau! Volume one of Love of Kill features plenty of action and establishes the deadly world in which the protagonists work, but otherwise gives very little information about the two. Structurally and thematically, the opening volume is engaging, functioning through leaps back and forth in time and filled with grisly episodes of violence. It’s quite jarring, most particularly when the volume mixes in a romantic interlude between the leads that feels as awkward to readers as it does to Chateau, and for the same reason: Song appears to be entirely psychotic. That also makes it hard to root for the killer, while younger assassin displays so little personality that she’s also difficult to care for. With such coldness, it’s hard to imagine why this manga, which in its initial version was published through the Japanese art site, Pixiv, necessitated a fuller release. Perhaps future volumes will reveal that answer, but for now, the tale of Pixiv to published is the most engaging part of this manga. ~ Twwk

Love of Kill is published by Yen Press.*

Eniale & Dewiela, Vol. 2

This second volume of this very silly series continues within the same framework of gags from volume one. In one story, Eniale causes havoc to the world by using supernatural noises to create sonar in an attempt to find Dewiela’s earring, which she’s lost. This humorous storyline and other chapters also provide a view into the interesting cosmos of this version of the world. While Eniale and Dewiela represent the Lord and Satan, respectively, from a Christian framework, this world setting has other deities and belief structures both existing and being true concurrently. Eniale and Dewiela are trying to reap souls for their respective afterlife locales, while local deities they encounter are pushing back, saying that the local souls belong to them. The duo face especially harsh pusbback by local deities when they enter Japan. The most interesting story comes from the tale of a Catholic priest who, according to Heaven, may become an angel one day to battle during Armageddon. However, something changed in his life and Eniale is sent to investigate. This bittersweet tale ends, as usual, on a gag, reflecting how fun this series is overall, even if it’s theology is just wildly inconsistent. ~ MDMRN

Eniale & Dewiela Vol. 2 is published by Yen Press.*

Carole & Tuesday Vol. 2

Volume two of Carole & Tuesday has the titular girls experiencing new challenges on their way to recognition and success in the music business, but it opens with a focus on a third girl. Angela, a child prodigy famous for modeling, wants to try something different and to become a singer. The manga shares some of her backstory and how she teams up with Tao, a man of mystery who creates popular songs using A.I. He riles up Angela throughout the manga, pushing her (rudely) to try harder. Meanwhile, Carole and Tuesday are try to get DJ Ertegun to listen to their song, which he refuses. Later, they struggle to find harmony on a new song, and take a little break outside on their own, considering their journey up to that point. When they return to their apartment, their slovenly manager, Gus, convinces them to enter the Mars Brightest competition. It’s like American Idol, but on Mars! Angela also enters in the test that will show how skilled these three girls really are as singers. I’ve seen the anime so I knew what to expect, but the manga still entertained me, particularly with its fantastic artwork. The panels pop out and feature intricate detail, connecting more with the characters through the facial expressions, dialogue, and the challenges they face. ~ Samuru

Carole & Tuesday Vol. 2 is published by Yen Press.

The Rampage of Haruhi Suzumiya (Haruhi Suzumiya, Vol. 5)

Having watched the episodes, but never having read the novel from which they were adapted, I expected the “Endless Eight” story to be much like the anime version: repetitive, dull, and overly long. It is in fact none of these things, taking up just 1/4 of The Rampage of Haruhi Suzumiya, the fifth light novel in the Haruhi Suzumiya series. While I still admire KyoAni’s decision to spend eight episodes on almost identical material to reflect the time loop aspect of the story (this despite the disastrous reaction it received), the much shorter chapter in Rampage doesn’t need the repetition to convey the peril and anxiety of the situation. It’s an excellent story, joining the funnier material in “The Day of Sagittarius” and “Snowy Mountain Syndrome,” the longest story in the series so far, which initially feels like material already covered but in a winter setting, though it later reveals itself to be a story that not only reminds us of how Nagaru Tanigawa excels as a science fiction writer, introducing further elements of the genre into his work, but also one that conveys serious heart. The last story provides another one of Haruhi’s sincere explanations of her behavior to Kyon and heavily features character development of Nagato, as subtle as it is, which is equal parts uplifting and mysterious. ~ Twwk

The Rampage of Haruhi Suzumiya is published by Yen Press.*

Maison Ikkoku Collector’s Edition, Vol. 3

Some forty years after it was first published, these chapters from volume three of Maison Ikkokku Collector’s Edition show precisely why this romantic comedy is so beloved, displaying the full retinue of humor and charm that are pervasive throughout the series. This volume continues to demonstrate Rumiko Takahashi’s talent at using misunderstandings to develop strong comedic content, which then gives way to reveal her character’s personalities and hearts. With Godai now knowing Kyoko quite well, but still miserably immature in his outlook on romance, he struggles to “make the leap” into a relationship with her, but each chapter shows that despite the obstacles that get in their way—some significant and others more figmental—the two are more and more making connections between their hearts. And as laugh out loud funny as many of the panels are, it’s these moments of caring, which increasingly find their way into the lives of Godai, Kyoko, and the rest of the Maison Ikkoku residents, that make the series memorable, driving it closer and closer toward fulfillment while keeping us just far enough away to crank the angst up to 11. ~ Twwk

Maison Ikkoku Collector’s Edition is published by Viz.*

The World’s Finest Assassin Gets Reincarnated in Another World as an Aristocrat, Vol. 1

The world’s best assassin has run out of time—or has he? On the verge of retirement, he is tricked and killed during his last mission. But upon his death, the assassin appears before a goddess (what a surprise!) who needs him to do her a favor: Kill the hero of the world she’s in charge of before the hero causes trouble in the future for her and the world he is in. She chose the assassin because of his skill and allows him to be reborn whilst choosing his own skills. Much like Rudeus in Mushoku Tensei, this protagonist is reborn literally, as a baby, but retains his previous memories. As he grows up among a wealthy family of assassins in a world of magic and knights, he trains to become better and to prepare to face the hero. Along the way, he meets a girl named Dai who becomes his magic teacher and Tarte, whom he rescues from poverty (she eventually becomes his assistant/servant of sorts). Although it’s rather rushed and features fanservice moments I felt were unnecessary, I enjoyed volume one. It’s a good selection for fans of isekai, though not without some flaws. ~ Samuru

The World’s Finest Assassin Gets Reincarnated in Another World as an Aristocrat Vol 1. is published by Yen Press.

=====

Reader’s Corner is our way of embracing the wonderful world of manga, light novels, and visual novels, creative works intimately related to anime but with a magic all their own. Each week, our writers provide their thoughts on the works their reading—both those recently released as we keep you informed of newly published works and older titles that you might find as magical (or in some cases, reprehensible) as we do.

*Thank you to Yen Press and Viz Media for providing review copies.

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jalapeno-princess · 4 years

Text

Coffee For Your Head

(He’s so pretty)

Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: Angst with some fluff and a happy ending

Word Count: 7.1K

Summary: After an exhausting and frustrating day at work, all you want to do is go home and fall apart in your boyfriend’s arms. However, a comment that is meant to be a joke turns in to a full blown argument between you and Mark; causing you to storm out of your shared apartment.

A/N: Hey guys, so this week has been pretty shitty. I had to pay $700 to get my car fixed only to have someone steal my muffler (Hawaii is not the paradise everyone paints it out to be) but I’m not letting it get in the way of my life. Anyways, this imagine was inspired by that deathbed coffee for your head song but literally just the first verse (the song is actually so sad). I also have a couple of surprises for you all! The last and final chapter of crazy little thing called love is in the works, and I’ve decided to make a part 2 to “nobody compares to you” by popular request, so stay tuned. I’m also a few followers away from 700 that’s crazy!! Anyways, happy reading!

Never in the four years of your relationship has Mark ever felt like he didn’t want to look at you. Hell, there was never a time he wasn’t looking at you. From the moment Mark first laid his eyes on you, he was captivated by your beauty in ways he has never experienced before.

Some days, he had to force himself to stop admiring your breathtaking looks so that you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. After what took weeks of building up the courage to ask you out on a date, it didn’t take him long to realize that you were just as beautiful on the inside as you were on the outside. He honestly felt as if he was the luckiest man on earth to be the one who was extremely blessed to love you.

Unfortunately, the two of you had your first actual fight just a few hours prior and he honestly wishes he could go back in time and keep his mouth shut so that the two of you wouldn’t have been in this disheartening situation. Although there were a few times the two of you would disagree and have a couple quarrels here and there, this was the first time you actually stormed out of your shared apartment out of anger and frustration.

He was well aware that he went too far tonight; Mark knew you like the back of his hand. Just by your posture and the way you slammed your bag down on the counter, he had a feeling something bad must have happened at work. You were a registered nurse at your local hospital and as much as you wish you could say being a nurse was everything you could ever hope and pray it would be; it was quite the opposite.

Sure, you had the honor of witnessing many miracles such as pregnancies, watching patients win their battles against cancer—just being able to help anyone in need were a few perks that came with being a nurse. However, being a nurse also came with great responsibility. There were lives on the line and just the simplest mistake; giving a patient the wrong medication, scheduling the wrong surgery or assigning the wrong diet could really affect the lives of those you were in charge of.

Being a nurse was very exhausting; you were constantly on your feet for eight to ten hours a day and there were many people, either the patients or family members of the patients who always felt the need to take out their stress and worry on you. Tonight had been one of the most tiring and stressful days at work and there was nothing more you wanted to do than to change in to your pajamas and fall asleep in your boyfriend’s warm embrace. It was obvious Mark had other plans.

Normally, whenever you came home so distraught and obviously shaken up, Mark would do whatever he could to comfort you and make you feel better. He didn’t understand what got over him tonight though—what started as a joke about you leaving the dirty dishes from earlier that morning in the sink as his way to cheer you up turned in to hours of yelling at each other and getting at each other’s throats.

You told him he was a selfish, egotistical asshole who didn’t care about anyone but himself and he called you an aggressive bitch who takes things too seriously. As soon as he saw tears falling from your cheeks while you yanked at your purse and your keys that were still on the kitchen counter before storming outside, Mark was well aware that he fucked up. You weren’t a sensitive person; you did cry occasionally when work could be too much for you to handle, when you felt home sick being 3,000 miles away from your family or if there was a sad scene in a movie the two of you watched together then yeah—you would shed some tears, but it was only natural.

When you guys did argue—if ever—you did tear up out of irritation; but you never allowed Mark to see how much your little disputes would hurt you because you didn’t want to feel vulnerable. He may have been your boyfriend, but you didn’t want him—or anyone for that matter, taking advantage of how timorous and fragile you were as a person. It took him a while to process that you actually left. He was too focused on the fight; there were so many things he believed he wanted to say to you in the heat of the moment, but he knew it was best that he didn’t.

Now that he was all alone in the apartment, he felt like complete and utter shit. He knew the entire fight could have been prevented if he had just kept his mouth shut. What came over him that he felt the need to make such a stupid comment? You weren’t all that familiar when it came to California seeing as how you would only go out for work, with friends or with Mark.

California was different at night; it’s was more dangerous and scarier, even for your boyfriend who has been living there his entire life. Seeing as how your family lived in New York and you hardly made any friends in the couple years of living in the relatively sunny state other than a couple coworkers, he had no idea where you could have run off to. For all he knew, you were at a bar getting drunk off of your ass and someone could have been taking advantage of you—or worse, you could have been driving and got in to a car accident because of how frustrated you were.

From what he experienced with being in the passenger seat while you drove, he had to admit you weren’t exactly the best driver. You had two of the worst qualities a driver could have—impatience and anger. Normally, you were calm and collective. Even if life as a nurse could get very hectic and frantic at times, not once in your three years of working at the hospital did you show that you were on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Mark never understood how you did it—but you were very good at managing your time and completing your tasks while under pressure. Your driving however was a completely different story. As much as he could only hope and pray you were somewhere safe, it wasn’t enough to stop the many negative thoughts and scenarios that his conscience came up with. Out of force of habit, he turned on the news to make sure nothing bad happened to you—God, why didn’t he just keep his mouth shut? If he just gave up his pride and took in to consideration the stress you were under, you’d be cuddling in his arms right now while the two of you watch reruns of Cake Boss—but instead, you were out driving in the freezing cold, alone and angry. He had no idea what he should do; even if he were to give in and admit his faults first, what good would it do? You were just as stubborn as he was.

Knowing your headstrong tendencies, there was a big chance you would leave his messages unread and let his calls go to voicemail. He couldn’t blame you though, if it were the other way around and you were the one trying to get in touch with him, Mark would’ve ignored your attempts entirely. His guilty conscience got the best of him only after ten minutes; he knew there was no way he’d be able to go to sleep without finding out your whereabouts.

Mark: Hey. 11:56 p.m.

Mark: I’m sure you’re still mad at me and my apologies probably mean jack shit to you right now but just know that I am really fucking sorry. 11:56 p.m.

Mark: You don’t have to return my calls, but do you think you could at least let me know that you’re safe? 11:58 p.m.

Mark: I didn’t mean anything I said—you know me better than I know myself baby. I would never do or say anything to purposely hurt you. Fuck, the last thing I ever want to do is upset you y/n. I’m sorry I’ve made you so sad. 12:03 p.m.

Mark: I love you so much y/n. Please come home soon. 12:03 p.m.

He tossed his phone somewhere on the floor before releasing a frustrating groan—where could you have gone? A lot of places were closed at this time of hour and he decided that since you were driving, there was no way you could be drinking. Any club or bar was immediately crossed off of his list. There was also no way you’d go back to the hospital; it was painfully obvious that something occurred during your shift that made your mood sour—so you probably didn’t want to get near the establishment until you had to return back to work in the morning.

Shit, that’s right.

You had another shift in less than eight hours, God, Mark really felt like the biggest asshole on the planet. Knowing that there was a huge chance he wouldn’t be hearing from you any time soon, he decided to set up camp in the living room just in case you came back home and wanted to go straight to bed. He was also secretly hoping that you read his messages and forgave him; or at least felt a little less infuriated with him.

No matter how much he tried to take his mind off of you, there was nothing that could distract him. None of the many video games he owned nor the new unsolved mysteries series Netflix had to offer could ease his unsettling nerves. Something inside of Mark was telling him to go out and look for you, but he knew that wasn’t a good idea. Honestly, he wouldn’t even know where to start. California was huge—he’d probably drive in circles for hours.

The idea of getting in contact with his friends also popped in to his mind; you’ve grown close to his group of friends over the course of your relationship to the point where you could consider them all family. However, you were the kind of person who hated being a burden to others. You also didn’t want to involve anyone in your personal business unless you really had to.

All he could do was lie on the couch and stare at the ceiling; growing more and more irritated with himself as the minutes went by. Your disheartened facial expression was imprinted in the back of his mind—this was the first time you looked at him in a way other than lovingly and with so much adoration in your eyes. He hated it; hated himself even more.

He just really wanted you home safe.

Your boyfriend had no idea how long he was waiting for you; minutes felt like hours as he continued to lie on the couch, doing nothing. As soon as he heard the click of the door sound off, he abruptly sat up; not caring if he seemed too eager. He sincerely meant everything he said over text message—your health and your safety meant more to him than his stupid ego.

His heart began to race watching you walk in; there was nothing more he wanted to do than to run over to you and pull you in to his embrace while he repeatedly apologized for everything that he said and all the hurt he made you suffer through. For his inconsiderate actions, for not running after you, for allowing his pride and wanting to be the winner of the argument get in the way. But you looked so exhausted—so tired. Your body language spoke for you; it was evident that you were probably still hurt from his words and from what he learned with past experiences, you probably just wanted to go to sleep. He was curious if you got around to reading his messages or if you listened to his many voicemails.

His heart was begging him to get up and make his way over to you, but his mind didn’t want to make matters worse. Although he wanted to fix things immediately, he was going to wait for you to take control of the situation. You slowly took off your sandals and made your way in to the kitchen. The battle going on between his mind and his heart was currently consuming his thoughts; as much as he knew it would’ve been better to continue giving you his space, his heart had other plans.

You looked as though you saw a ghost when you heard him make his presence known and only then did Mark realize it was 2:15 in the morning. His chest hurt when he saw you tense up; he began regretting his decision. You obviously weren’t ready for reconciliation.

“What are you still doing up?”

You still had your back faced toward him, but he was going to take whatever he could get. Instead of continuing to ignore him, which is honestly what he felt he deserved, you actually responded to him. It had to be a good thing—right?

“I know you’re well aware that there was no way I’d be able to go to sleep knowing you were out all by yourself this late in a city you’re not all that familiar with. Especially because I was the reason. I—I was so worried.”

The tension in the room was thick; he was practically walking on eggshells while thinking about what to say next. You were the definition of a sensitive person and it was a trait of yours that Mark was still getting used to. It was the truth though—Mark cared about you more than he did anyone else on this hell forsaken earth. If something were to happen to you, he didn’t know what he would do with himself. You were his person. That man would die for you if he had to. He found himself reaching out to you as a force of habit, but he retracted his hand as soon as he realized what he was doing.

“Can we—can we talk?”

You took in a deep breath and finally allowed yourself to turn around and face him. There was no way around this—you knew as you drove around that he would want to talk sooner or later. When you saw that he was still awake, you weren’t surprised. Being with him for all these years, you’ve grown to learn that Mark never allowed you to go to bed angry. He was the type to want to solve your problems before you were to fall asleep.

The idea of you crying yourself to sleep because of something he said made his heart hurt. Only once in your entire relationship did you go to bed without listening to Mark’s apologies and it was because you didn’t want to deal with the drama any longer. He felt extremely bad that entire day though and when you arrived home that night, there was a bouquet of sunflowers, your favorite cake from your favorite bakery and a stuffed animal all sitting on the counter.

Mark was going to make sure you knew just how sorry he was, even if it meant having to sleep on the couch tonight. You were much more calm than you were when you first stormed out. Right after the fight, you went straight to your car and sat in it for a while; allowing yourself to breathe and come to your sense before driving away. Then, you decided to go drive around the city until you pulled up to a 24-hour coffee shop.

The exhaustion from your extremely stressful day was finally taking over you; and since you planned to stay out for at least another hour or two, you were going to need something that would keep you from falling asleep—and what better than a caramel macchiato with three shots of espresso? To your delight, you were the only customer there; you didn’t want anyone witnessing your breakdown as you cried quietly to yourself while remembering Mark’s harsh words that he directed towards you.

Mark was the only good thing going for you in your life at the moment; all you wanted to do was collapse in his arms and have him comfort you—you wanted him to run his fingers through your hair while you were perched up on his lap, hiding your face in the juncture of his neck. Every single time you had a rough day, whether it was because of work, or something else going on in your life; but your boyfriend was really good at taking your mind off of any problems, worries or negative thoughts that you had.

Coming home, only to hear him complain about how you didn’t wash your cereal bowl made your blood boil. You were scolded by your manager for almost giving a patient the wrong medication and it was the mistake of your colleague in training—yet you didn’t have the heart to confess that it wasn’t your fault. You understood how intimidating it was for first and second year residents; you’ve been there before, so you were fine taking the blame for something that you didn’t do. However, hearing your manager insult you and claim that you were inadequate and had no idea what you were doing made you feel as if it were true.

The last thing anyone in the medical field wanted to hear was that they weren’t good at their job. You didn’t go through so many years of crying over how hard clinicals were on top of pulling all-nighters every single week there was a test or exam just for someone to make you feel like you had no clue on how to complete the tasks given to you. This was the first time you were scolded for something that you didn’t think was all that bad; the medication the patient was meant to take helped with soothing a sore throat. The one that the medical resident gave them had to do with decreasing heartburn—it wasn’t like it was a life or death situation.

Mark never did anything to upset you purposely; sure, he had a tendency to leave the toilet seat up every now and then and sometimes he would get crumbs all over the couch, but that was as bad as it would get. When he called you a bitch, it genuinely felt like a slap to the face. It physically hurt and you couldn’t stop thinking about the way his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched in anger as he continued to say such hurtful things to you. At one point while you were drinking your coffee, it became bitter—which was odd considering how sweet it actually was and you found yourself no longer wanting to finish it.

Your argument with Mark was just taking up the entirety of your thought process that you were growing agitated with anything and everything. After reading his text messages and listening to a few of his voicemails, you didn’t know how to react. Mark Tuan was never the type to admit to his wrongdoings; he had so much pride and such a big ego—but not once did he ever use it towards you. You’ve watched the way he became ruthless while playing video games and said some things to his friends that you considered to be a joke; something he said to throw them off while being focused on winning.

Even at work, if he did something wrong, he’d never admit to his faults. That’s just who he was; so for him to say that he was wrong—that he didn’t mean a thing that he said and he shouldn’t have upset you at all gently pulled on your heartstrings and you found yourself throwing away the remainder of your beverage and making your way back to the apartment.

You weren’t sure what was going to happen once you were to walk in the door; he might have apologized, but that didn’t necessarily mean that he was going to talk to you or apologize again in person. Your mind would not let you get any rest; it was currently in a battle with your heart—your stupid, stupid heart that belonged to the man that made you feel like you were wrong for having a bad day.

That—you had no right to lash out on him. You wished he would have heard you out first before attacking you for something so small and unnecessary; he could’ve washed the damn dishes himself if he was so bothered. But your heart wouldn’t stop telling you to forgive him. His job could get extremely frustrating sometimes. It might not have been as time consuming or energy draining as yours, but there were times where he would need you to hold him every now and then because his executives expected so much out of him.

He probably had just as much of a hard day as you did—maybe he came home pissed off from something that happened at work and noticing that there was dishes in the sink that he knew were there from this morning got on his nerves. You felt like he could have handled it better though and you couldn’t help but think like he was growing tired of having to be your backbone; having to comfort you almost every single day on top of his own problems. Your mind wouldn’t stop coming up with all these thoughts and lies you knew weren’t true and you were well aware that it was best to start heading back to your place knowing that you had to be up again in less than five hours.

Seeing him practically leap at the sight of you walking through the door sent so many emotions to your chest. You hated any time spent away from him—there were occasions where your schedules would collide and the only time you would see him was right before bed or if you were coming home from a graveyard shift while he was getting ready to leave for his job.

The dried tears on his cheek confused you; he was the one who caused all of the drama and he had no problem making you feel like you were overreacting and being too sensitive. You were upset with yourself for wanting to walk over towards him and wrap your arms around him—but it was only natural for you to want to do so.

For the entire duration of your shift, he was all you could think about; the thought of Mark was what kept you sane throughout the entire day. No matter how upset he made you, he was still the love of your life—your best friend, your favorite person, your soulmate. One fight wasn’t going to tarnish or falter your feelings for him in any way.

Arguments were considered healthy in a relationship; sure, you could have done without the harsh words being thrown back and forth to one another, but you realized in the coffee shop that you would rather bicker and disagree with Mark every now and then for the rest of your life, then to have a relationship filled with constant joy and laughter with someone else.

It was obvious that he was probably just as tired as you were, but the thought of him staying up worrying about where you were and waiting for you to arrive back home filled your stomach with butterflies. You made your way towards the dining table and took a seat; you waited for him to make the first move because you didn’t know where to start.

“Did you—uh—happen to get my texts?”

You decided to keep your gaze on the cup of coffee he placed in front of you; you didn’t even notice him heating some up for you. Your boyfriend was very observant of the way that you practically lived on coffee; on the days you had morning shifts, he would set an alarm to wake up before you and prepared all the things you needed so that you had less to worry about—coffee being your number one necessity. If you were to look up at him, you were well aware that you would probably cry just at the thought of how considerate he was even under a negative circumstance.

“Yes. I didn’t have a chance to read them though.”

That was a lie. You read every single one of his messages; each message pulling on your heartstrings the more you continued scrolling through them. Although you no longer held any anger towards Mark, you didn’t want to give him the benefit of the doubt. A part of you also wanted to hear him apologize in person rather through messages—but you felt in your gut that he would sooner or later. Honestly, you wanted to wait until you were to come home from work tomorrow afternoon so that you were well rested enough to have the right mindset if another argument broke out.

“Oh. Well, I—For starters, I want to apologize for the way I acted towards you. I don’t know what made me say the things I did—I meant it as a joke but you obviously didn’t think it was funny and I don’t know why I expected you to. I’m so fucking sorry y/n. I was an asshole and you didn’t deserve it at all. I know I said some really cruel things in the heat of the moment, but I hope you know I didn’t mean any of it. You’re not a bitch nor are you over-emotional and you don’t get on my nerves. At all. I just—hearing you say those things about me sparked something inside that I wanted to hurt you as much as you hurt me. It took every bone in my body not to run after you. I’ll admit, sure—it was because I wanted to give you your space, but I was also very prideful and still so irritated with the entire ordeal. I regret every single thing I said and did tonight as soon as I realized just how scary it is being out late at night by yourself. I’ve never hated myself more than I did in these last two hours worrying about where you could have gone and what you were doing. I couldn’t stop thinking about your broken expression as you grabbed your things and stormed out the door.”

His voice quickly grew shaky; you knew he was on the verge of crying again just by the tone of his voice. For some reason, you found yourself giving in to him and finally looked up. It felt like a slap to the face; seeing him with the most heart wrenching frown—not once in your relationship did you ever question Mark’s love for you and right now, hearing that he beat himself up for the last few hours while he was going crazy thinking of the many possibilities that something bad happened to you made you come to the realization that the beautiful man in front of you loved you more than you could ever fathom in to words.

“I know you’re tired from work—I don’t know why I didn’t just keep my mouth shut. If I could, I’d go back and prevent this entire night from happening. I was so fucking scared y/n. You don’t know California all that well; you could have taken a wrong turn and ended up on your way to Las Vegas—your car could have broken down in the middle of nowhere and someone could have came and—I don’t even want to think about it. I’m sorry for hurting you—I know you’re well aware that I would rather sit and suffer through listening to Yugyeom and BamBam screaming while playing MarioKart than to hurt you in any possible way. You don’t have to forgive me. Hell, scream at me; yell at me, hit me, do whatever you want to me. Just know that I’m extremely sorry, and I’ll do whatever I have to in order to get you to trust me again.”

He hesitantly stood up and didn’t even spare a glance at you before making his way back into the living room. You were upset that he didn’t give you any time to respond, but at the same time—you were extremely grateful. Right after he left you all alone at the table, you allowed the tears to flow freely from your eyelids as his apology continuously replayed in your mind. Whatever exhaustion you felt from earlier that disappeared right after you abruptly left the apartment was quickly returning—though, you didn’t know if you were physically tired or just mentally drained at this point.

You gave yourself a couple of minutes alone just to plan out what you were going to do. Going to sleep sounded like the most rational decision to make; especially because you were meant to wake up in less than four hours to work another long, grueling and tiresome ten-hour shift. But you didn’t want to go to bed on bad terms with Mark. If he was willing to give up his pride and raise the white flag first just to make sure you were well aware that he was extremely regretful and apologetic of his actions, then it was only righteous of you to forgive him. You got up from your seat and put away the cup of coffee before taking in a deep breath and making your way in to the living room.

The lights were off; but the lights from the hallway were still dimly lit enough for you to notice that Mark was lying down on the couch with a pillow and a blanket wrapped around him. This was the first time since you moved in together that you found him outside on the couch. A small smirk raised on your face—your boyfriend was always so courteous and considerate.

He began tossing and turning in order to find a sleeping position he would be comfortable in. Your couch was pretty spacious and the two of you have slept on it countless times while watching movies together, but you were sure he was probably bummed by your response or lack thereof. You walked over to the end of the couch and gently tapped his thigh with your knee to get his attention.

“What are you doing?”

Although there was barely enough light to even see his figure, you were able to see him shrug nonchalantly at your question—as if you already knew the answer.

“You’re still mad at me. I don’t want to make matters even worse. I’m giving you your space—“ You surprised both yourself and your boyfriend by flopping on top of him, earning yourself a soft whimper. Nonetheless, his hands made their way down towards your lower back without hesitance. His heart was racing against your chest; you had a feeling he wasn’t expecting for you to forgive him tonight let alone throw yourself in top of him. The two of you sat in silence for a couple of minutes, the only sound that could be heard was your breaths and his fingers tapping lightly on your skin. He placed a couple of gentle kisses on your jaw and gripped at your chin; lifting it up to make eye contact with you.

“I lied. I did read the messages and I cried like a baby—you ass. Okay, I’m gonna start off by admitting that there were some things I also said that were out of line and that I did not mean. You are not a bad boyfriend at all Mark—you are the best boyfriend—hell, you are the best thing to ever happen to me. A lot of what I said was because I was so pissed off at you. I had such a terrible day at work. I was scolded by my manager twice for things I didn’t do, I had to work two extra hours to help out because three people called in sick, I was thrown up on and my break was cut short because we were so low staffed today and everyone in California all seemed to have kidney malfunctions on the same damn day. All I wanted to do was fall apart in your arms and have you comfort me like you always do—but then I come home and you make a comment about how lazy I am and I just—I cracked. Normally you’re always so good at picking up on the fact that I’ve had shit days; so, for you to make me feel even worse when all I wanted to do was find solace in you—it made me so fucking sad. And then I went out and drove for a while but I came to the realization that it wasn’t a good idea for me to roam around in a city I’m not familiar with while I was fuming so I went to a coffee shop and just thought about everything.”

Feeling his grip on your hips tighten only made it evident that your words had an effect on him. Sure, you were telling your side of the story and you had every right to—Mark deserved to hear what an asshole he was towards you—the last person in his life that he ever wanted to hurt. But he could just picture you sitting in your car; sobbing and blaming yourself like you’ve done multiple times in the past even if it wasn’t your fault. You were the kind of person who had a tendency to think you were the reason why things went wrong.

Usually, it was in situations at work; but he couldn’t help but feel as if you were beating yourself up about the argument that could have honestly been prevented if he observed your posture and body language and just kept his mouth shut. You wiped away a tear that fell from his cheek before placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“I wanted to continue giving you your space, but I had so many negative thoughts running through my mind. I was so, so worried about you. Baby I am so fucking sorry—“ you playfully pinched his cheek before covering his mouth with your hand.

“No more apologies okay? Our argument is in the past. I just want you to know what happened and why I decided to return back so soon. If I’m being honest with you, I was planning on staying out until I had to head in to work again but sleeping in my car is not the most easiest thing to do. You hurt me Mark—I know it wasn’t purposely but for a few minutes, I actually contemplated on staying at a hotel or something. I didn’t want to see you for the rest of the night and I hated that I felt like that—even if it was for a split second. I always want you Mark. Every second—every minute—every hour spent away from you is spent thinking about you. What you’re doing, if you ate your meals on time, how you’re doing, if you miss me the way I can’t stop missing you, when I’ll get to see you next—then I got your message and they just solidified the love you have for me. Not that I ever questioned it once in our three years of dating. I’m sorry about the dishes—I’m sorry if I haven’t been myself these last few days but please Mark—I’m not acting this way on purpose. I’m so tired. You’re the only reason why I don’t end up in a mental institution at the rate I’m going. I’ll try to be better okay? I love you too by the way—so much.”

The longer you spoke, the more tears fell from his eyes knowing how you must’ve felt so unhappy while overthinking the argument and just your entire day in general and he just felt so angry with himself. It was one thing for him to think about how much the argument must have bothered you, but it was another thing to hear you confess what had happened at work before coming home to a nagging and complaining boyfriend.

He felt sick to his stomach and it was even more upsetting because he didn’t have the right words to explain just how sorry he was nor did he know what to do to make it known that he was regretful of the entire situation. Your boyfriend didn’t give you any time to prepare; he cupped your face in his hands and roughly connected your lips together. His lips were chapped and dry and tasted like salt from the tears. However, his movements were dominant and quick; his desire and need to kiss you was all that was on his mind at the moment.

He wanted you to feel how much he loved you and how remorseful he was through the kiss. His tongue pushed down all but gently against your bottom lip before bringing it in between his teeth. The kiss continued to deepen the longer your tongues battled for dominance; any anger you held for your boyfriend was completely gone at this point. As much as you loved the way his lips melded perfectly against yours, you were finally feeling the wave of exhaustion re-enter your body and to Mark’s disappointment, you pulled away and placed your forehead against his.

“Babeeeee—“

“Come on, let’s go to bed.”

You got up from off of him and reached your hand out in order to help him up. Mark was the definition of a clingy boyfriend—everyone who knew the two of you both witnessed and heard just how possessive he was over you and how he constantly had to be touching on you. But nobody ever complained—it was so adorable. He wrapped his arms around your stomach and placed his head on your shoulder while letting you guid the two of you towards your shared bedroom. You attempted to escape his hold in order to move around freely, but he had other plans and continued to cling to you like a sloth.

“Babe, I have to get ready for bed—“

“You can get ready while I hold you.”

“I can’t take off my scrubs with your arms around me.”

“I guess that means I have to take them off for you—it would be my pleasure baby.” You rolled your eyes and gently shoved him while grabbing one of his shirts and making your way towards the bathroom.

“Baby?” You hummed in curiosity and gingerly smiled at him.

“It’s already 3 in the morning. Maybe you should call in sick. I don’t like the thought of you going to work with barely any amount of sleep and I know we’ve moved on from our argument—but it’s only human for you to think about it again. I don’t want you getting yelled at again if your manager senses that you’re tired. Plus, you’ve been working so much this last month. I know you love your job, but it’s okay to take a well deserved rest once in a while—“

He had a point. Besides Mark, work was your ultimate priority. Sometimes, you put the hospital before your own health and private life. There were occasions where Mark would invite you out with him and his friends, but a lot of the time, you would either be at work or sometimes be called in as you started getting ready. Working so much led to over exhaustion every now and then but no matter how sick you felt—whether it was a cold, the flu or nausea, you would still find yourself tending to patients. It was something Mark wasn’t all too fond of; especially because your boyfriend seemed to be the only one genuinely concerned about your well-being.

As soon as you finished your nighttime routine, you wasted no time making your way towards where Mark was sitting on the bed and crawled on top of him. He gave you a tired yet toothy grin and pulled you close to his chest. His hands returned to your lower waist and he even playfully pinched your butt; earning himself a slap to the shoulder. You brought one of your hands in to his hair while cupping his cheek lovingly with the other.

“I know you don’t want me apologizing anymore, but I just want to say sorry one last time. I can’t promise we won’t argue again—we’re both stubborn as hell—but I promise to be more patient; more understanding. And I don’t want you leaving—you really did worry me baby. I love you so much y/n. I’m sorry if what I said earlier made you question my love for you—but I love you. I’ve loved you for the last three years and I plan on loving you for the rest of my life.” You placed a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth before smashing your cheek against his chest.

“I love you too. A lot more than I get around to telling you. Fine. If I stay home tomorrow, you owe me.” He gently pulled away from you and began wiggling his brows.

“Oh, and what do you have in mind? You know babe, we don’t need to wait till tomorrow, I can give you what you deserve right now. I’ll take such good care of you—“

“I don’t mean sex you horny ass, I meant you make me breakfast in bed or prepare a bath for me. If I’m calling in sick, I want a relaxing day off.” He gave you an adorable pout while playfully hiding his face in between your breasts and whining softly.

“Making love can be relaxing. Come on Y/n, it’s been almost a week since I had your pretty lips around my cock. I’m sex deprived. As much as I prefer you topping me and riding my cock like the professional cowgirl you are, I’ll take the lead. I’ll eat your pussy out until you cry—fuck you till you scream. Might as well you call out for the entire week. I think you and I both know angry makeup sex is the best sex. Don’t lie y/n, you miss having me inside of you just as much as I miss feeling your tight walls wrapped around me—“

“I think I made a mistake telling you to come in here. Go back to the couch.”

#got7 imagines #got7 #mark tuan #mark tuan imagines #got7 mark

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riversofmars · 3 years

Text

The Eighth Doctor and his companions Liv and Helen are stranded in London in 2020 since their TARDIS broke down. When the Daleks invade on New Year's Day, they take to the streets, unaware that the Thirteenth Doctor is already dealing with them. Among the chaos, River Song appears to deliver a message of warning: This is just the beginning. The two Doctors and their companions have to work together to prevent a devastating future while dealing with their relationships and past demons.

Chapter 2: Personal Conflict

As your protagonist and unwilling narrator, you are experiencing this story through my eyes. You’re not only seeing what I saw, but I’m also sharing with you how I felt about the things that happened. In a way, you could say you’re in my head. And as you’ve probably realised by now, that can be a pretty terrifying place to be. I would know. In every good story, the protagonist sets off on a journey, literally or figuratively, and seeing as we continue to be stuck in 2021 London, it’s the figurative kind. One that started years ago on Nixyce VII and carries through to present day. I am still dealing with my past now, and it’s going to get worse before it gets better. I’m sorry if my recounts of the past encroach on what you might consider the main story but it is important for you to understand why I did what I did. I think we can agree that all the best stories deal with great personal conflict. Push and pull, forces that threaten to tear you apart if you’re not careful. For me, initially, it was a question of flight for flight as I know no middle ground. Either face up to my past or continue to run away from it. I think you’re starting to get a real sense of how stubborn and bull-headed I can be, so it probably goes without saying that I chose the latter.

I decided I liked the look of night-time London, as I descended the stairs and stepped onto the sidewalk. Much like Kaldor City, it wasn’t completely silent - big cities such as these never were - but it didn’t compare to the daytime hustle and bustle. I was grateful for that, I needed the space. The walls of 107 Baker Street had felt too confining, and in the cold night air I felt like I could breathe again.

Regent’s Park was particularly quiet. No-one else seemed to be interested in early morning exercise, which was hardly surprising: it was January. I rubbed my upper arms, feeling the chill. I probably should have taken a coat, or a hat and scarf at least…but in my haste I hadn’t considered my comfort. The best I could hope for was that I would warm up quickly once I got going. My medic brain insisted I at least try to look after my body and stretch my legs. If I just started running, I probably wouldn’t be able to move much the next day. You see, I’m not twenty anymore, though my body doesn’t quite reflect my age. There have been significant advances in medicine in my time and I have spent 900 years in cryo sleep. All things considered, I’m in decent shape for 950.

I started jogging down the path, puffs of air crystallising in front of my face, and I felt a burst of energy as my mind finally cleared. It was liberating. I sped up. I had forgotten how much I liked running. It felt like just what I needed. It wasn’t like we’d been sitting on our hands since we got stranded in London; with the Doctor around, things kept happening. The TARDIS had restored itself a little and was able to take us back and forth in time. Space, however, remained an issue. Despite continually running into trouble, it felt confining. London, England, Earth, whether it was the past, the future or present day, just seemed so small after having had a taste of the infinite. It’s hard to explain if you haven’t experienced it.

Running, now that’s something that comes naturally to me. I had never been able to sit still. Ever since I could remember, I had wanted to travel and see the universe. I had been in a rush to leave Kaldor upon graduating, and sometimes I still wonder what my life would have been like had I stayed. I would have had more time with my father…perhaps my sister Tula and I would have reconnected sooner…maybe I would even have a family of my own. I’d have a good and steady job at Kaldor City Hospital…I could have had stability, maybe even something close to contentment…but I don’t think that’s ever truly been in the cards for me. The urge to keep running has only increased with time. I have the Daleks to thank for a lot of it. When I had left Kaldor, I’d had such an optimistic view of the universe, of all the wonderful and exotic things I would see…the Daleks had set my head straight. No-one who had lived through the occupation of Nixyce VII had illusions of the wonders of the universe anymore. No number of trips with the Doctor can undo that damage.

My ears were starting to hurt from the cold air rushing past them, and my eyes stung, but I didn’t feel cold. I felt alive.

You see, travelling with the Doctor is special. I enjoy the thrill of it. It takes you away and wraps you up in a world of your own, when you travel with the Doctor, nothing else seems to matter. Your past becomes a distant memory and the future is just an abstract concept. With the Doctor you have to live in the moment. It’s riveting, distracting, and all-encompassing. In a word, it’s a reprieve. But reality has a way of catching up with you when you stop moving. Who would have thought the past would find me in 21st century London?

I sped up even more, intent on pushing myself.

There were still signs of the destruction around. London City Council had done a good job of clearing up, but in the park there were still scorch marks on the trees and craters left behind by explosions. I tried to focus on the path ahead; my footsteps thundered on the ground. My lungs were starting to burn from the cold air. If anything, it urged me on. The pain made me feel alive. I was sweating and my muscles started aching when I reached London Zoo.

What even were the chances of us being stranded at a time of Dalek invasion? It had not only shaken me to the core but also shaken me awake. I had started to settle, we all had. As we got used to that life we had become sitting ducks. I hadn’t realised just how helpless we really were until I had been on that street, trying to help people and failing miserably. If it hadn’t been for River, I would be dead. If it hadn’t been for the Doctor - the future Doctor - Earth would be occupied.

I spotted the Rose Gardens in the distance. The burning in my chest was becoming painful, and I wondered what I was even running from. The Daleks were gone, the Doctor had defeated them again, and yet, I felt as if they were still hot on my trail.

Collaborator. Traitor. The words echoed through my mind and I ran even faster, as if I could escape them. Maybe the rushing of blood in my ears would drown them out.

My mind was racing as I contemplated what was coming for us. What had River been referring to? I wondered. In every shadow, behind every tree, I expected Daleks to lurk. I was sprinting. As fast as I could go and then some. Past the Japanese Garden Island. Across York Bridge. I lost my balance, stumbled at the foot of the bridge and suddenly, there was a figure. I crashed into them.

“Oh, steady on.“ It was a woman, judging by the voice, and she managed to just about catch the both of us before we fell over. She was quite tall, and I’m not sure if I mentioned, I’m rather short.

“Sorry…“ I gasped, embarrassed. I hadn’t expected anyone to be about, and least of all to physically run into them. I put my hands on my hips to straighten my frame to hopefully breathe more easily. “I didn’t… see you… there.“ I could hardly speak, gasping for air.

“Are you being chased?“ The woman asked, sounding concerned. She looked around, up to the bridge behind me, as if she expected my pursuers to arrive.

“No, just… exercising,“ I just about managed to say and received an incredulous look. The woman’s gaze was piercing as she appraised me curiously. It wasn’t intrusive or unpleasant, just…interested, and a little sceptical. She had blonde hair, a bit shorter than mine at shoulder length, and an inquisitive air about her.

“You don’t half push yourself,“ she observed, clearly having contemplated my explanation for a moment. “Are you okay?“

“Perfectly fine, thanks…“ I nodded quickly. “I should… get going…“ I was slowly beginning to recover from the shock and longed to escape the awkward situation and be with my own thoughts again.

“You know you’re crying, right?“ The woman pointed out, searching my eyes for an explanation. I felt myself blush, self-awareness returning with a jolt. I hadn’t even realised.

“Just the cold wind in my eyes.“ I looked away quickly and wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand. “I have to go…“ I wasn’t going to tell a stranger my life story at 5am in the morning. Not even a rather attractive one. Tall. Blonde…I think I might have a type. “Have a good day. Again, sorry about…crashing into you.“

“Can I buy you a cup of coffee?“ The woman asked before I could put distance between us.

“What?“ Admittedly, I hadn't anticipated that question.

“Coffee. A beverage, traditionally consumed in the early hours of the morning to help start your day,“ she explained with an amused smile, and I couldn’t quite tell whether she was trying to be funny, or actually assumed I didn’t know what coffee was. Either way, a question pushed to the forefront of my mind.

“Do we know each other?“ I frowned, sizing her up. There was something about her that seemed familiar.

“No, I think I’d remember.“ She smiled, amused.

“Ah, flirting. This early in the morning?“ I sighed and started walking away. “I’m not really in the mood for it.“

“You look like you could do with someone to talk to…“ The woman called after me.

“Well, you’re wrong,“ I called back. “Goodbye.“

“Goodbye Miss Chenka… see you soon…“ I stopped in my tracks and looked around. At the time, I could have sworn I’d imagined her parting words. I had no explanation for how she might know my name. I didn’t get the opportunity to ask, as by the time I’d turned around, the woman had disappeared. With the benefit of hindsight, I should probably have gone searching for her, but I don’t think it would have made much of a difference to how things unfolded after that.

——

“Liv! There you are!“ Helen stuck her head out of the kitchen when I returned to the flat. I had done my best to be quiet as I’d closed the door but it seemed like she’d been waiting. Hands on hips, in her PJs and a dressing gown she stepped into the hallway, sizing me up like a mother might their insolent teenage child, that had stayed out past their curfew.

“Did you wake her?“ I shot the Doctor a glare who joined her in the doorway. It wasn’t even 6am yet, there was no way Helen would be up for any other reason.

“No, actually, I was awake when you left and heard you talking in the hallway.“ Helen crossed her arms, attempting to look stern but I never could take her quite seriously like that. Her features are far too sweet.

“Why were you awake?“ I asked as I kicked my trainers off. My legs were heavy. I had overdone it. I would regret it later but I had no-one to blame but myself. My throat was burning, I needed a drink.

“I think it was you that woke me up…“ Helen admitted slowly and stepped aside to let me pass as I walked into the kitchen. “Were you having a nightmare? I heard you shouting…“ she asked, her voice soft and full of compassion. I was glad to have my back turned to her at the time, else she would have seen that jolt of pain that crossed my face. Distracting myself, I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water from the tap.

“Maybe,“ I answered with a shrug and without turning around. I gulped down the water and refilled the glass a second time before turning back to face them, only when I was sure I had my facial expressions back in check. “Everybody has nightmares from time to time.“

“So…where have you been?“ Helen pressed on, exchanging concerned looks with the Doctor who seemed to have chosen to remain quiet. “The Doctor said you went for a run?“

“Did exactly that,“ I answered, gesturing at my running outfit. “See? Even found a use for these sweatpants.“ It was a poor attempt at making her smile that failed miserably.

“Why?“ She asked, absolutely bewildered. It was a fair point. She knows me well enough to sense there was an ulterior motive to it but I wasn’t ready to discuss it at the time.

“It’s what people do.“ I shrugged in an off-hand sort of way, trying my best to come up with a white lie. I was beginning to feel hot, it was boiling in the flat in comparison to the perishing temperatures outside. I pulled my jumper over my head and off, to give myself another moment to consider my excuse. “Think I may have gained a pound or two over the Christmas period; thought I might do something about it. New Year's resolution and all that,“ I carried on, and dropped my jumper on the kitchen side before finishing the second glass of water.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re absolutely beautiful,“ Helen huffed, sounding affronted at my explanation.

“Huh?“ I had no idea what to do with that statement. It came out of the blue and hit me in a way that made me feel hotter than I already was.

“I mean, you don’t have to lose any weight!“ She elaborated and sounded exasperated for having to do so. “You’re perfect the way you are.“ I could have sworn she turned a little pink in the cheeks. Or maybe that was just my imagination and wishful thinking at the time.

“Right… thanks.“ I turned away quickly to refill my glass a third time and could only hope Helen hadn’t spotted me blushing.

“Coffee? Tea?“ The Doctor spoke up at last, seemingly fearing the conversation had reached an impasse.

“Tea,“ I said quickly. I downed the glass of water and put it in the sink. “But I need a shower first.“ I wiped my forehead with my jumper. The sweat on my skin was becoming uncomfortable and sticky. “Won’t be a minute.“ I forced a smile and took the opportunity to bolt from the room, before they could pose any more questions.

“Doctor…“ I paused in the hallway for a moment when I heard the deep concern in Helen’s voice. I felt guilty instantly.

“I know…“ The Doctor replied, sounding solemn himself and I took a deep breath. I couldn’t talk to them, not then, not until things had become clearer in my own head.

——

“Where is he?“ When I returned from my shower, wrapped in a dressing gown of my own, the Doctor’s absence was the first thing I noticed.

“Out. Gone back to the TARDIS. I think seeing his future TARDIS at New Year’s gave him hope. He knows he’ll fix it eventually so he’s eager to crack on,“ Helen answered and pushed a mug towards me. She must have been waiting for me to return.

“Good,“ I nodded curtly. It’s what I had expected the Doctor to do. Renewed determination on the Doctor’s part was the one positive thing to have come out of that night. It gave me hope, too. As much as I had been getting used to life at Baker Street - and enjoyed some aspects of it too - I longed to go back out into the universe. Then more than ever. I didn’t want to hang around for whatever gloomy future River had predicted for me and could only hope it wasn’t a certainty yet.

“I know you don’t like it here, Liv…“ Helen said and it was startling how much she seemed to be able to take my meaning from a single word.

“I like it just fine…“ I huffed defensively and took a sip of my tea. It was just right. No sugar, splash of milk, not too hot, not too cold.

“You’re restless, you don't like to stand still,“ Helen carried on and I rolled my eyes.

“Is it that obvious?“ I mumbled, slightly embarrassed that she seemed to be able to read me like an open book sometimes.

“From where I’m standing, yes.“ She nodded, her expression as warm and kind as ever. “I thought you were settling in though, with Tania and everything?“ She pushed on and I felt a twinge of guilt. Tania. Yes, of course. You see, Tania Bell was one of the tenants who’d lived at Baker Street before we arrived and helped ourselves to the empty flat. Tania and I had grown close in the time since, and I feel guilty now, too, for not having mentioned her before. I really should have, considering we’d actually been dating; but things were about to get complicated. Matters of the heart rarely are straightforward. In any case, I knew she would be disappointed if we left - and I would surely miss her too - but she didn’t make me want to stay, and I hated how quickly that realisation came to me.

“I guess,“ I hummed without looking at Helen. I was worried she would recognise the guilt in my expression.

“Then what is it? What has got your back up like this?“ Helen carried on. “I know what happened at New Year's was…unexpected…but it worked out okay, didn’t it? The Doctor dealt with it.“

“Did he though?“ As usual, my big mouth got there before I could think it through.

“What do you mean?“ Helen frowned.

I hadn’t told her about River yet. The opportunity hadn’t arisen. The Doctor was always around and he couldn’t know about her yet. I knew better than to risk the timelines and I trusted her. If she said something was coming, it would be, and it couldn’t hurt to start thinking about what we could do to prepare.

“I don’t think that was it…with the Daleks…something else is coming…maybe the Daleks, maybe not…I don’t know,“ I gave a vague response, unsure of what I should say, River hadn’t exactly provided much information. She also hadn’t said whether or not I could fill Helen in but I presumed it would be fine, as we jointly kept River’s secrets from the Doctor.

“The Doctor mentioned you’ve met the Daleks before,“ Helen said, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that fact that they had obviously been speaking about me.

“I know them well enough, yes,“ I answered and I couldn’t keep a tiny edge of annoyance out of my voice. That was not a subject I wanted to discuss.

“And you’re worried?“ Helen deduced.

“I nearly died, you know?“ My tone was sharper than intended when I finally came out with it and it threw Helen.

“What?“ She blinked, confused and concerned.

“At New Year’s; a Dalek was about to shoot me but…I was saved,“ I explained, trying to downplay it upon seeing the look of distress on her face.

“Spit it out, Liv, I know there is something going on!“ Helen exclaimed, sounding frustrated.

“River saved me, River Song,“ I answered, throwing caution to the wind.

“River?“ She echoed, apparently incredulous.

“I don’t know how, I don’t know why, suddenly she was there and shot it dead, she said I couldn’t die there…“ It didn’t make sense to me either, at the time, and I threw my hands up. I was at a loss.

“Well, no, you couldn’t have, I never would have forgiven you if…“ Helen busied herself stirring her tea and I regretted telling her. She is my closest friend, I didn’t want to burden her with images of my impending doom, but I can't deny how her obvious concern made my heart warm.

“Point is, I think there is more to it. Something she said…and the way she was looking at me…she said she couldn't stop what was coming but that she would be there to help.“ I tried to move the conversation along.

“We have to tell the Doctor, he’ll know what--“ Helen started but I interrupted her.

“She said he couldn't know about her, not yet, not either of the Doctors,“ I explained what River had said.

“Then we just…have to trust that she knows what she’s doing. She usually does, doesn’t she.“ Helen put on a smile, trying her best to seem optimistic.

“I guess,“ I hummed, and then I did something I never do and hate doing: I admitted to weakness. “I’m scared, Helen…the Daleks, they…they’re not like anything you’ve encountered before.“

“That is saying something, it takes an awful lot to scare you.“ There was that concern in her eyes again and it made me change my mind about explaining any more, going any further. That’s when I decided Helen didn’t need to know about my history with the Daleks. I didn’t want her to look at me like I was damaged, like I was broken, and if I carried on, if I told her how I was feeling and what I had experienced, that’s all she would be able to see. She used to look at me like I held all the answers, like nothing could shake me, and I so desperately wanted to be that person for her, just as much as for myself. I would be stronger, I decided. I had to be.

“I best get changed, start the day…“ I looked to the clock on the wall for a way out. It was nearly 7am. I rose to my feet and finished my tea in one go.

“Yeah, right.“ Helen blinked, seemingly confused at my sudden change of tone. “Yes, so should I…“

——

When I closed the bedroom door behind me, I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts. Time to stop wallowing, I decided. I had spent the past few days in a bubble of my own, plagued by intrusive memories and worrisome visions of the future. I couldn’t carry on like that, I had to do something about it. The early morning run had certainly blown the cobwebs away and cleared my head.

Full of purpose, I pulled out a set of clothes from my wardrobe and caught myself wondering about the woman in the park. While I still couldn’t be sure if I had heard her right, it seemed an incredible coincidence that she would know my name, particularly after River’s prediction of future events. I will be there, we all will. River’s words echoed through my mind. Who did she mean when she said “all“? I wondered. I thought it entirely possible that that woman had something to do with it, too. Perhaps I should have taken her up on her offer of coffee. I got as far as considering going for a run again in the morning to see if I bump into her again.

I undid my dressing gown and unceremoniously dropped it onto the bed. When I pulled on some pants and a bra, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror on my wardrobe door. My eyes fixed on the prominent scar that ran along the side of my waist. I took a deep breath, trying not to let the memory of getting it take me over but my defences were down.

I might as well recount the story to you, seeing as that was all I could think about in my stupor.

——

“You are unauthorised.“ A metallic voice sounded from the end of the corridor.

“Shit,“ I breathed. I thought I had been careful, but clearly not careful enough. “Damn it.“ I started running.

“You’re unauthorised,“ the maintenance bot called behind me, slowly taking up pursuit. Leaving the storage area had been a risk, one I had deemed worth taking at the time. But the damage was done, I had been caught. If I wanted the risk to pay off in any way, I had no choice but to keep going and finish what I had set out to do: I had to find out where the freighter was headed and how long the journey would take. Timing was critical as I would have to survive the radiation aboard. I was well aware of the limits of the human body and the level of radiation in the guts of the ship was off the scale. I had built a makeshift geiger counter and it had blown within seconds of being turned on. That had been what prompted me to venture above boards.

The crew was automated Robomen, and smaller, fully mechanical maintenance bots. The fact that there were Robomen at all gave me hope. They were part organic so they would be susceptible to the radiation, too. Hopefully, if our route would be survivable for Robomen, it would also, by extension, be survivable for me.

“Cease movement,“ a Roboman called behind me, joining the chase.

“I don’t think so.“ I skidded along, around a corner, as I considered what a bad idea it had been. With the robots aware of me being aboard, they would be more vigilant. I could only hope they wouldn’t venture below decks. Either way, I had managed to put some distance between the robots and myself, they weren’t exactly fast or agile. That’s when I spotted a computer terminal, the goal of my excursion.

“Come on, come on.“ My hands flew over the display, attempting to access our flight plan. Three years?! I blinked when the information displayed. That couldn’t be right, I thought. I wouldn’t be able to survive the radiation for that kind of time! I zoomed out, to see the surrounding star systems. We were heading for a completely different galaxy! I was certainly getting my wish of going far away from Nixyce VII but there was a good chance that there would be a Dalek base at the destination, their empire extended far and wide. That’s when I knew I would have to find a way to get off the ship.

“Step away from the console.“ The mechanical voices were getting dangerously close.

“Just one moment…“ I brought up the schematics of the ship and committed them to memory as best as I could, then bolted as the Robomen were nearly on top of me. Suddenly, I felt a stabbing pain in my side. There was a security bot who had come the other way. His terrifyingly sharp appendage buried into my side in an attempt to subdue me.

I gasped with pain, sharp curses on my lips, I turned to my left and pulled away. The blade sliced further up my body but I was free. I clutched my side and staggered on, my life depended on it. My mind was reeling. The pain sharpened my senses. I had to survive, else all of it would have been for nothing. So I ran. Blood seeped through my fingers but I ignored it, doing my best to hold the cut shut as I carried on.

Medical bay! My brain screamed. There was no life crew, so there was no way of knowing whether it would be stocked but every freighter was built with one. Unless they had gone through the trouble of gutting it for more storage space, chances were I’d find something useful there: some bandages, a suture kit? I was sending a silent prayer for some anaesthetic as I did not look forward to suturing my side without it. I only noticed the blood loss when I stumbled and slammed into the door. Medical Bay, it read. I was getting drowsy but I pushed on. The Robots had fallen behind again. Quickly I barricaded the door from inside the infirmary, then opened cupboards, searching the room in haste. Yes, that will do nicely, I thought. Bandages, suture kit, emergency rations, even pain suppressant! Everything off my wish list. Without a live crew, the stocks were full. I filled a bag, my hands leaving bloody smears on the white surfaces that no-one would notice or care about. I had to get below deck again as quickly as possible, where they wouldn’t be able to trace me with those radiation levels. As I scanned for an escape route, I found something that almost made my injury worth it. In a medicine cabinet I spotted vials of an orange liquid.

“Thank the Goddess for small favours.“ It was radiation treatment. I made sure to take every last vial. If I was going to survive, I would need every drop of it and since the robots had spotted me, I would be hard pressed to come up to the crew level again any time soon.

There was a maintenance hatch inside the infirmary. I was sure I could find my way, providing I didn’t lose consciousness en route, which was becoming a real possibility. My vision was starting to blur, I had to stop the bleeding quickly but I didn’t have time to suture myself up then. The robots were already at the door.

I winced as an idea crossed my mind, but I had little alternative. I quickly scanned around for surgical equipment. Laser cauterizer…I knew I would regret it later…it wouldn't fix the internal damage but it would stem the bleeding for a time…it would be messy…but I didn’t give myself the opportunity to talk myself out of it. I engaged the instrument and pressed it to my side to seal the cut. The pain was blinding, but the result was good enough to keep me going until I reached the safe haven I had set up for myself in the bowels of the ship.

——

“Liv?“ Helen’s voice and knocking on my bedroom door pulled me back to reality.

“Yes?“ I called back quickly and pulled on a shirt, hiding the scar from view.

“When you’re done, I was thinking we could go and see the Doctor…if you’re that concerned about the Daleks, we should tell him,“ Helen spoke from the other side of the door. “We won’t mention River,“ she added, anticipating my response.

“Okay. Fine,“ I said, buttoning the blouse with trembling fingers. It should be an easy task but I couldn’t quite manage it. My hands were shaking and I swore under my breath.

“Liv, is everything okay?“ Helen asked and I took a deep breath, shaking my head at myself.

“Yup, just…struggling into my clothes,“ I answered, which was technically speaking, true.

“I’ll be in the kitchen,“ she said after a pause.

“Right.“

#Doctor who #fanfiction #liv chenka #helen sinclair #eighth doctor #kate lethbridge stewart #river song #A numbers game #doom coalition #the traitor #daleks #action/adventure #liv x helen #nu who #classic who #big finish #big finish audios

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rickriordanfandam · 4 years

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opinions on riordanverse ; my edition

a lot of people have been doing this so i decided why not right. probably gna lose some followers or smth but anyways. pls respect my opinions! if u disagree, thats fine, but please be polite. unless any of my opinions strikes u as morally wrong then pls point it out to me respectfully. thanks!

- i actually liked drew. im so sorry to everyone who hates her but full offence, why. think about it this way ok, first of all drew became hc because silena died. silena was the traitor, the one who betrayed chb, yet after she died campers celebrated her as a hero? and then drew suddenly has to replace her and live up to idk that legacy she left behind,, when all of a sudden this girl named piper swoops in and takes her place. idk abt u but i wld be salty abt that too. not only that, but as an asian, the chances of drew having faced racism/bullying as a child is pretty high (she studies at brooklyn academy). which means that when she finds out shes a demigod, and arrives at chb where most of the campers are white (this is an assumption btw), she’d obviously be scared of being bullied for her skin color right?? so the first thing she wld do before the campers get to bully her is to bully them before they can do so. (sentence structure here is wack i apologize) ofc this might not even have happened, drew could have had a perfect childhood && was a b1tch for no reason, BUT EVEN THEN HER ROLE AS A BULLY WAS PRETTY VITAL BECAUSE THAT FURTHER SHOWED THE CONTRAST BETWEEN HER AND PIPER,, HIGHLIGHTING PIPER AS A HERO//GOOD CHARACTER,, AND THEREFORE MAKING READERS LIKE PIPER MORE. anyway stop hating on drew please. ALSO WHY IS THIS SO LONGA SDFJHG

- jason isnt bland, the fandom just kinda erased his backstory (thanks to @pjohoo-memes for the phrasing lol)

- reynabeth wouldnt have lasted/would have broken up several times. idk i just see them as two extremely powerful characters who have firm opinions and will definitely clash at some point. in a platonic relationship,, i can see them as really good friends but as lovers? idk i just think theyll break up

- PIPABETH

- i dont really like jercy,, i see them as better friends than lovers. also idt jason and percy were that close..?

- the dam and not my type jokes are srsly cringey and were never funny. ik that seems hypocritical since my username literally makes use of the dam joke but honestly i dont actually like the joke. its not funny to me and has never been funny

- the seven were not best friends. they definitely argued,, and honestly probably werent as close as the fandom makes them seem. like ure dumped with 6 other people, out of which u only know a few. my introverted ass would have jumped off the argo 2 quicker than leo valdez could bomb camp jupiter up. also leo was a dick to frank. so what if frank is bigger sized?? thats not a valid reason to tease him

- the fandom needs to stop hating on octavian while worshipping luke. if u hate luke and u say u hate octavian too, then okay. but if u tell me ure a luke stan but u despise octavian?? imma disagree w u. luke was worse than octavian im sorry. first of all, octavian being a dick was kinda justified. hes been after the praetor position for so long, and everyone keeps saying to “wait for jason” when suddenly this dude, whos a son of NEPTUNE (neptune wasnt liked much by romans), and the camp decides to make him praetor?? dude i would be pissed off big time. and then afterwards, he finds out that greek demigods are real and the dude they made praetor is greek. AND THEN GREEK DEMIGODS COME TO CJ AND ONE OF THEM BOMB IT UP?? octavian has been told all his life that greeks are scum and this dude called leo valdez attacks cj. sure it was an accident, but did octavian know that? no. so it was honestly justified that he was such a salty prick im just saying. also some of yall be hating on octavian for cutting a teddy bear open and thats the funniest shit ive ever heard i swear

- luke didnt go to elysium

- travis and connor stoll r way too underrated. the two have been head counselors of the hermes cabin since luke was revealed as a traitor, can u imagine the stress? luke, the person they probably looked up to as a brother, betrayed them. and they didnt even have time to process this when they were thrown the roles of being hcs. that would have been so stressful and i would probably have broken down if i were them. the stoll brothers taking turns to wake up at ungodly hours because a new camper is crying and homesick and terrified, the stoll brothers having to comfort and take care of new campers, having to deal with the amount of people in that cramped space because not enough campers are being claimed fast enough. having to resolve issues between campers in the hermes cabin all the time. the stolls arent just comedic relief, and we need to stop treating them as such

- tratie shldve been canon idc idc

- demigods of the demeter cabin arent talked about enough and i love the fact that meg was demeters kid. like she isnt the child of one of the big three yet shes so powerful.

- we need to hype clarisse up more her character arc was phucking amazing

- rachel is overhated. sis found out greek gods exist and regularly come down to earth to fuck around and went “ok cool”. queen shit behavior methinks

- the floor 19 crew of mcga is srsly underrated. like do u even remember halfborn gunderson, mallory keen, tj, etc??? bc i feel like we only remember samirah, magnus, alex, and sometimes blitz and hearthstone

- sadie (tkc) was kinda annoying at first. i like her more now tho but i rmb not liking her for a phat while

- tkc and mcga need more love

- carter kane and jason grace arent boring. theyre just really sweet boys who are too good for this world and yes yes yes

- hazel and frank (especially frank) need to be hyped up more. i hardly ever see anything about them. also yall seem to forget that frank was literally made praetor and that even hecate admired hazel and was willing to fight beside her because of how powerful she was

- frazels age gap is kinda sketch but i still think theyre really cute

- nico definitely had trauma from going to tartarus on his own

- GROVER IS PERCYS BEST FRIEND

- annabeth isnt smarter than leo but neither is leo smarter than annabeth. ive seen a lot of discussions about who is smarter and heres my hot take on it: neither. theyre equally smart, just in different ways. leos a genius mathematically speaking. he has no issues solving math problems meant for people much, much older than him. annabeth on the otherhand, is great at strategies etc. she can make an army of 1000 more powerful than the enemy, even if theyre outnumbered. so in my opinion, both are equally as smart//u cant compare their intelligence, because their talents lie in two different areas.

- while i do agree rick riordan isnt a god and that hes bound to make mistakes,, AND that hes given us a lot of representation,, if the representation offends the people its sposed to represent, then theres a problem. im talking about piper as a poc and wearing feathers in her hair. im not a poc, so i cant speak for them on whether or not its wrong, because i dont know either. HOWEVER, i have seen multiple posts BY pocs talking about how they didnt really like rick’s representation of piper, and thats an issue. pocs have been and are still oppressed and discriminated against by many. as a white cis man, we cant really blame him for not knowing (tho he could have done a research,, asked some pocs,, idk), but by representing pocs in that manner, hes influencing impressionable kids/teens into thinking “oh pocs wear feathers in their hair all the time” etc, which isnt true. the pjo/hoo series is extremely successful, and kids who read the books will probably start forming inaccurate opinions on pocs. the amount of fan art that depicts piper with feathers in her hair dont help either. “but rick said so in the books, so its canon” yeah well rick isnt a god and he can get some things wrong at times. im not saying we should cancel him, im saying we should start educating ourselves and not spread false info like pocs wearing feathers in their hair all the time. also that snake song shit where she sang Summertime was just- yeah. bc heres the thing you can be racist, and still include minorities, but portray them in a racist way. And even then, ignorance isn't a thing to admire. Getting those facts wrong still has a major impact. It continues to perpetuate racist stereotypes.

“ With the feather thing, I looked it up myself; it takes less than five minutes to figure out that Cherokees don't braid feathers into their hair. I didn't grow up in the country where my parents are from. I have many other first/second generation American friends who have also been through that, with a bit of a disconnect from their culture. But something that most of us have in common is that when we didn't know something, and when our parents weren't that big of a help, we looked it up. We sought out resources online and through other people from our culture to be able to connect more with where we came from. Some of that took a Google search. So I find it hard to believe that Piper, a girl who Rick's trying to portray as someone who is attempting to connect with her culture and is totally against racist stereotypes, wouldn't know that eagle feathers aren't supposed to be braided into your hair casually. She may be disconnected from her culture, but she's also shown to want to connect back to it. Piper wouldn't be casually braiding feathers into her hair while also telling off people for being racist. It makes no sense.” - reddit thread (down below)

for those of yall who wanna know more please please read this, it has a lot of things i wanna add in here : https://www.reddit.com/r/camphalfblood/comments/gy3gl2/piper_mcleans_portrayal_is_innacurate/

as well as https://finding-my-culture.tumblr.com/post/189422373260/maxie-ratties-and-cattie-finding-my-culture

i will be posting screenshots of these in future posts so if ure viewing this on ig and u dont have tumblr,, dont worry

- the fact that most of the strong female characters in the series refuse to be “girly”, and ngl i dont really like that. just because ure girly doesnt mean u cant be strong.

- piper would have been a great way for him to start making the strong characters act girlier, but instead he went with the “I’m not like other girls” trope which is quite obnoxious to hear constantly, and I don’t think it’s necessarily great for younger girls to read that idea growing up. the closest we've ever had to a strong female character who was also into "girly" things was Silena. when I was younger I admired Piper's "I'm not like other girls" thing, but then I got older and realized that the whole mentality of "not like other girls" is super obnoxious, and a little bit toxic

i have a heck load more that i cant rmb rn but yeah feel free to add more

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annhellsing · 4 years

Text

A Hundred Demons

notes: i accidentally deleted my other naraku fic so have some uhhh questionable romantic liaisons rating: teen, there’s some making out but nothing heavier pairing: naraku / reader word count: 1,796

You pry up the cellar door and flinch at the smell of decay. The castle festers at its core, exacerbated by Naraku’s transformation.

He detests this state, but the struggle of holding his body together is prolonged by denying it. His most precious asset is his ability to reforge flesh, And for this process he prefers to be alone. You know that. Still, you descend.

The smell is worse with your feet in the dirt. You’re careful not to grip the ladder too tightly, should your grip make the brittle wood crumble. You closed the hatch before climbing down, the only light now from the cracks around its edges.

It’s barely enough to make out the mass in the centre of the room, but your eyes adjust. A wriggling, pulsing thing blinks it’s single eye. Then, another tendril uncoils slowly, as if in sleep. Knotted together and writhing as one are a hundred demons.

At their centre is his head, bowed in sleep.

You feel a lurching sensation, a knee jerk reaction to the dirt in the cellar. It feels like old, dried blood beneath your feet. The corruption has seeped into the support beams of the cellar. You doubt the place would stand on its own if not for his magic.

Blinking slowly, you wait for the head to notice you. A demon’s maw lolls open, it’s fleshy tongue poking out at you before it also succumbs to sleep. Naraku’s body twitches unnaturally, and then his true head finally moves.

You see two red eyes beneath his black fringe. His skin is so pale, white in the shadows like a death mask. He sneers in your direction, seeing nothing but darkness and the faint outline of a person.

“Kagura?” he snarls. His eyesight is poor when he’s in pieces. Naraku inhales sharply, recognizing the new blood that woke him is human.

“No,” you reply, “it’s me.”

“Hm,” he grunts. It’s difficult to tell if he’s still angry. “I did not summon you.”

You shift your weight to your hip, hazarding to step closer. No doubt he’s irked at his sleep being interrupted, but you understand that his desires are always a double-edged sword. Regardless of your actions, it’s his natural state to be displeased.

“I missed you,” is the only excuse you can offer.

You half expect him to dismiss it as pathetic, but instead Naraku hides his shock beneath a grimace.

“I didn’t think you were foolish enough to disturb me as I regenerate,” he finally tries, though it lacks the bite you know he can have.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” your chin is still raised to look at him. But Naraku understands that it is at once both practical and an act of defiance. Despite that, he can’t bring himself to lash out.

Instead, he laughs. It’s like dark water, pulling you in a few more steps. You’re lulled into a half-way sense of safety, worried less for your own bodily health. Perhaps it’s too soon, you fear. But Naraku seems unwilling to pin you with cruelty.

“Of course, I suppose I am the one who disturbs,” he says, “at least, for the time being.”

His cheeks are gaunt and heavy bags hang under his eyes. He looks tired, his voice is barely more than a reedy breeze. He creaks more than he speaks. You move even closer, until your toes touch the edge of the mountain of demons.

Naraku’s head is supported by a nexus of thick, gray tubes. His hair is entwined with the cellar rafters. He is hideous, you can admit that, and yet you shake your head.

“Do I not terrify you?” he asks, sounding more amused than shocked or angered by your lack of reaction. He does so love fear. “Most can’t bear to look.”

“Have many people seen you like this?” you ask, cocking your head to the side. You kneel on the body of the demon at your feet, using it as a stepping stone to get to the second.

Naraku makes a dismissive noise, unwilling to grace your question with an answer. He lacks one that will prove his point, and that annoys him.

“I thought as much,” you reply, “Kagura’s opinion hardly counts, in that case.” The demons are foul to the touch, but you manage to climb them one by one. Naraku stays terribly still as you do so, waiting and watching to see what you’ll do.

“And yours does?” he asks. A hint of thank ink-black, cruel humour creeps into his voice again. Still, you don’t flinch. He wonders if you might wish to hear him laugh again.

“Generally yes,” you kneel on the back of a sturdier demon, your eyes at level with his. “As I’m your lover,” you’re close enough for him to smell your blood, and the hummingbird beat of your heart.

You’re fragile, he thinks. But then again, so is he. And you’re looking at him with the worst kind of adoration a creature like him can fathom. Still, in his chest that’s now in pieces on the cellar floor, his heart that was once human lurches in your direction.

“You make a compelling argument,” Naraku decides. There is still a sharpness in his eyes, and it comes from ugly fear. You’re close enough that in a single, violent motion he could be dead. And your knife could be bloody.

But you keep your hands on your knees, looking at him with your head tilted. You move slowly, as if you know exactly what he’s afraid of. Maybe he has a right to be unnerved by this, but that won’t make you stop.

You lift your hands and put them on his cheeks, wiping dirt and grime from his face. His thin lips turn up into a smirk. He is a monster, a hateful, terrifying beast of hell and still you lean in to kiss him.

Your lips are human and soft. You’re warmed through, not disquietingly clammy the way he is. But you seem not to notice. You seem to reach through the haze of evil energy and the smell of decay to find the spark of heat belonging to Onigumo. That bit of life that makes you love him so.

He drags his tongue across your bottom lip, demanding out of habit that he be granted entry. Naraku gets what he wants, he’s used to that. So when you press your mouth closed, making a tight seal that his sharp teeth can’t break-- his eyes open.

“Did you come here only to torment me?” he asks, pulling away enough to be coherent. But he’s still so close.

He’s never felt more like an insect than when chasing your warmth. Naraku has looked on at moths flying headlong to their death, toward fire and now he understands why. It’s addictive, your humanity. It’s like a song that he could fall into.

He wishes he had arms, that’s what the longing in his displaced chest is telling him. He’ll wrap you up and keep you with him for hours when he’s finished remaking his body. And you won’t be able to deny him a thing.

But for now, you look at him with an amused expression he does not appreciate. You have ideas above your station and too little fear for his taste. At least, until you press your lips to his again.

It seems you grant him permission to deepen the kiss now, though he doesn’t know what’s changed. He’s the same as he was a minute ago, just as breathless and horrible to behold. Perhaps you simply wanted to prove you could control him.

That thought is simultaneously gut-wrenching and delicious. Naraku doesn’t know which is worse.

The smell of rot doesn’t register as pervasively, you notice. You put your hands in his long, black hair and drag his severed head against your mouth. Your fingers brush gray-mottled tendons and pale flesh.

He’s making decisions about which parts of him to keep even as he accepts your kiss, but he’s working a lot slower than before you arrived.

You have a nice time ruining his solitary confinement, sneaking kisses over his cold flesh. You try your best to warm him, he realizes, and the sentiment is unhelpfully pleasant. He loses count of how many times he needs to reconsider his decision to discard part of himself, you’re a beautiful distraction.

“I’m inhibiting you,” you say when you finally pause to breathe. He mirrors the action, struck very suddenly by how distant the need to do so was with your mouth to his jaw.

“Deeply,” he replies.

“My apologies,” you say, bowing your head. “I really did miss you.”

“If it would please you,” he begins, making you lift your head, “you may stay a while longer.”

“It would please me,” you reply. You kiss the corner of his mouth, moving too quickly for his poor vision to see. “I’ll be still as a mouse so you can be done sooner.”

Naraku closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before nodding. You can feel a shift in the cellar as he goes back to sleep. So much for parting remarks, you suppose. But he isn’t one for affection, especially not when vulnerable.

You sit back on your knees, watching his severed head hang from the rafters. And the sight, to your intense displeasure, inspires no fear. You know what he is, who he is, and still you make yourself comfortable.

Somewhere in the space between Naraku regrowing his neck and shoulders, you too succumb to sleep. The dark, cool cellar fades away, as does the smell of rot. You lean against the old wooden wall, the demons underfoot don’t bother you.

By nightfall, he’s finished. And you, his lover, lie curled up on the packed earth. His body is as it was, but now it’s much stronger. He feels better, more in control and sturdy. As much as he would like to look down on you with vague disgust brewing in his now rightly-placed heart, he can’t.

You’re roused hours later, somewhere just as dark but less oppressively macabre. You’re not in the cellar any more, you know by the smell. The wet, old air is cleaner in this new place.

Your fingers brush the floor, no longer made of packed earth. It’s tatami, you realize, the same tatami found in Naraku’s private chamber.

Sitting up, you realize how warm you are in this new place. Even in the blue-dark, you can’t feel anyone else’s eyes on you. You’re alone.

You look down next, wondering what’s covering you. You didn’t bring anything when you climbed down the ladder. But thrown over your chest, undisturbed by your heavy sleep is a white cloak of baboon fur.

#naraku #naraku x reader #inuyasha #inuyasha fic #anniewrites #this gets Bad near the end i'm sorry #i ran out of wenergy

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crashingmeteorz · 4 years

Text

the tea shop fight probably wouldn’t happen in my ba sing se bimbos au, but IF IT DID:

jet sees mushi heating tea, and goes through an existential crisis. what’s worse is it’s JET’S tea, so he just has to. drink the firebended tea. and try really hard. not to throw up.

on the one hand, lee is one of the best friends he’s ever had and mushi is one of about two adults jet’s ever had any respect for (the second is song’s mother).

on the other, THOSE TWO MEN...ARE FIREBENDERS!!!!!

so as you can imagine, he has something resembling a mental breakdown.

(“are you okay?” song asks him one night when he’s particularly on edge. “you’re all...sweaty.”)

(“probably because it’s extra hot in here,” jet says pointedly, staring right at zuko, who just blushes a little because he, like everyone else, assumes jet’s just flirting with him again.)

(“but we’re outside,” says song, deeply confused.)

jet finally decides he’s just going to come out and tell zuko he knows he’s a firebender, and give him about 30 seconds to explain himself Or Else.

he stalks into the tea shop with extreme purpose, and doesn’t even notice song and jin sitting at one of the tables when he walks right up to zuko and says “we need to talk.”

“unless it’s about the couple by the window and how you’re going to cram this towel down their throats, i’m a little busy,” zuko tells him as he loads up his tray and turns his back. jet leans in hovering just over zuko’s ear, and at first, all zuko can think is i’m not making out with you NOW jet!

and then jet whispers: “i know you’re a firebender,” and zuko freezes. he turns around, hoping jet will have his signature smirk on, but his mouth is a hard thin line and his brows are drawn in a sharp v.

“do you have time to talk now?” jet asks him coldly. zuko narrows his eyes and says “no.”

from their table, jin and song watch on curiously. “why don’t you think jet said hi to us?” jin asks song. “probably saw lee’s ass and didn’t even notice we were here,” answers song. they both laugh - lee doesn’t have an ass.

all of the sudden jet’s yelling and drawing his hooks. “come on!” he shouts, pointing at zuko, “show everyone what you can do!”

“you want a show?” replies zuko, snatching a nearby guard’s swords, “i’ll give you a show.”

“what in the - if they’re not careful they’ll hit mushi!” says a thoroughly pissed song at the same time jin says “song - write this down, we need to get them into Street Rumble XI!”

(street rumble is the street version of earth rumble, and also the avatar alternative to yelling WORLD STAR!)

the fight is pretty evenly matched. in this au there’s more hesitation, but it’s still intense. they knock over tables, shatter dishes, and all-around make a ruckus.

iroh meanwhile, who has come to care for jet, is calling for both of them to calm down. he doesn’t know for sure what the fights about, but he’s got a sinking feeling, based on the fury written all over jet’s face.

the fight goes outside, and obviously song, jin, and iroh follow.

“if you’re in the market for a new relative to mentor, i make a great niece! song, tell mushi what a good roommate i am,” jin says cheerily as zuko and jet almost kill each other. “don’t ask me to lie,” says song.

then the dai li show up.

“oh shit,” says jin. “we’re too poor to pay their bail!” says song.

jet and zuko pause their fight after being told to drop their weapons (they do not drop anything.) jet points at zuko and yells “tell everyone who you are!”

“he’s a young man, just like you,” says iroh. “boys, please, it’s not worth this, let’s all go back inside.”

“i’m not going anywhere with you!” roars jet.

the guards and pao tell the dai li how jet attacked without reason, how the tea boy was just defending himself. the dai li move to take jet away. song panics, and does the only thing that makes sense at the moment.

“no! don’t! it’s my fault!” she cries. she remembers what her mother taught her, about people’s assumptions and using them for survival, and she begins openly sobbing. it’s enough to get the dai li to pause.

“don’t blame yourself,” says iroh quickly, not knowing where song’s going with this but helping anyway by gently patting her shoulder. “it’s hardly your fault.”

“it is!” she cries. “it’s me - they’re fighting over me!”

“song,” jet says irritably, at the same time zuko blushes furiously and says “uhhhhhh.”

“all this...over a girl?” the guards ask. the dai li still are still hovering over jet.

“i know, it’s ridiculous!” iroh agrees. “but you know how young men can be-“

“it IS ridiculous,” jin says dramatically, stepping forward. “because i thought they were fighting over ME!”

“you?” song blubbers, doing her best impression of a person who does not think this entire skit is ridiculous. iroh thinks they’re laying it on a little thick but the crowd seems sufficiently distracted. “but-but lee said he only loved me!”

“is this true?” yells jin, rounding on the boys. jet is, if at all possible, even angrier, while zuko is rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“jin,” jet says. “i am not dealing with this right now-”

“you started this!” cries song hysterically. “making a scene, just because i said i won’t kiss you if you keep eating grass-”

iroh, who has made his way over to the dai li, gestures broadly and says “as you can see, it’s just some teenage drama. please, we can handle this. i’ll make sure the boys clean up their mess.”

the two dai li look at one another, and then nod at iroh. “if we hear of any other disturbances in this area, they’re both getting arrested,” they tell him before departing.

the crowd disperses, not really wanting to deal with song’s crying and jin’s yelling. pao goes back inside griping about closing up early. finally, when it’s just the five of them, song takes her hands away from her face, which is completely dry.

“and, scene,” says jin, bowing. “song, you were brilliant, iroh, my muse, lee and jet - the stunts could use a little work.”

“why did you have to say all that stuff?” zuko mumbles angrily. jet, meanwhile, begins to stomp away.

“because we didn’t want you to idiots to disappear!” yells song. “but i’m already regretting it! and you!” she says, rounding on jet. “you’re not going ANYWHERE until you two clean up this mess!”

“you don’t understand!” says jet. “those two - they’re-”

“why don’t we all clean up together, and then we can discuss this at the apartment?” offers iroh quickly. they may be alone, but they’re still very much in public.

“great idea,” says jin, “i have to finish transcribing the fight anyway.” song takes iroh’s arm and says, “mushi, you’re not allowed to help, you had nothing to do with this.” zuko looks at jet and shrugs, entering the tea shop. jet splutters, making a series of strangled noises, before finally sighing in defeat and following the group inside and begrudgingly cleaning up.

when they get to the apartment, iroh serves the four of them tea. jet refuses.

“i don’t want anything made by a firebender,” he hisses. song freezes. zuko rolls his eyes. iroh looks deeply sad.

“that’s what this is about?” jin says in a bored voice, sipping her tea. “i thought we all knew by now.”

“what?” shout jet, song, and zuko. iroh looks shocked.

“seriously?” asks jin. “lee, the first time we hung out you lit up, like a hundred candles at once. do you think i’m stupid? is that what you think? that i’m stupid?”

“n-no!” zuko stutters. “you knew,” jet growls “and didn’t say anything to us?” song is still fairly pale.

“i thought we all knew!” jin says. “i mean, he screwed up in front of me, like, immediately. i just figured the same had happened with you two.”

“i can’t believe it,” zuko says miserably.

“besides,” jin continues, “what’s the big deal? there’s plenty of war babies in ba sing se. and lee’s our friend. has he ever used firebending to hurt us?”

“that’s true,” song says thoughtfully. “and, that scar clearly didn’t come from a waterbender.” she takes in zuko’s embrassed expression and adds, “no offense, lee.”

“i don’t believe this,” says jet in shock. “how are you all just okay with this?”

“well, what’s he gonna do?” asks jin.

“i - i don’t know!” stutters jet. “he could - he could be spying for the fire nation!” song and jin laugh heartily, and after a minute so does jet.

“okay, okay,” jet concedes, “lee could never make it as a spy. but still-”

(“could too,” grumbles zuko, arms crossed. iroh shoots him a “for once in your life SHUT UP” look.)

“but nothing,” song says, standing up. “jet, i understand. i’ve been hurt by the fire nation, too, remember?” she pulls up her skirt and shows everyone her burned leg. zuko looks away.

“but lee didn’t do this,” song says firmly. “and neither did mushi. and you destroyed a town, so you don’t get to judge them.”

jet’s jaw drops, and then he pouts bitterly. “i never should have told you about that,” he mutters.

“i trust you three will keep our secret, then?” iroh asks at last. song and jin nod. jet looks between them, and then at zuko, who offers him something resembling an apologetic look.

“fine,” says jet. “but if i think for one second that you two are working with the fire nation, i’m not holding back.”

zuko and iroh nod aggressively, both thinking “if we so much breathed in the presence of the fire nation we’d be electrocuted by our insane relatives, but sure jet, we’re totally working with the fire nation.”

i know i said i’d post part 2 of the gaang and ba sing se bimbos meetup, but this was stuck in my head. since it’s an au of an au i’m just going to include it in my new masterpost rather than in any particular order. credit as always to the amazing @azenkii !

masterpost

#my stuff #jinjetsongko #jetko #the ba sing se bimbos #jin #jet #song #zuko #iroh #atla #avatar the last airbender

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