#i go over and he starts acting all melodramatic and refuses to tell me whats wrong until i ask him four fucking times
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God FUCKING dammit I give up.
#i cant stay long i tell him. i have school tomorrow i tell him. okay he says. just come over we'll have fun he says#i go over and he starts acting all melodramatic and refuses to tell me whats wrong until i ask him four fucking times#talks at me yet again about how im failing him as a girlfriend#damn dude just fucking break up with me already.#he only keeps me because im his shrink#he calls and i come running but heaven forbid i tell him how slur reclamation works when he ASKS ME ABOUT IT!!!!!!!!!#i cant fucking win. he needs to leave. he needs to break up with me because ill never be who he wants me to be#and im not gonna change to be who he wants because then ill become suicidal#dude is not stupid but damn man how the fuck am i supposed to do anything at all when every six weeks you drill me for something#something central to myself that i don't even do on purpose#i already know im not gonna marry this dude I don't know why i stick around#hes hot as hell and nice as all get out but dude isn't funny and makes me listen to music i hate#he makes me waste my time with him nonstop i was supposed to be asleep by now every time i make something cool#he hounds me until i make it for him too i cant even run and hide because he'll hunt me down and get all pissy#that im not mouthfucking him as much this week and is something wrong??????? communication is key honey u have to TELL me well shit man#how the fuck dp you expect me to tell you when you're the problem?
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More North and South thoughts:
The great thing about rereads is getting to pay attention to some of the side characters that get brushed over in summaries, and I am paying a ton of attention to Dixon. I don’t like her. It’s great that she’s loyal to Mrs. Hale, but the way that makes her antagonize everyone else in the family is super annoying, and while I’m usually against characters who “lord it over” the servants, I’m on Margaret’s side in basically all of their interactions. As annoying as she is, there’s a fascinating dynamic between her and all the other characters.
A great thing about audiobooks is that some passages are more affecting when acted out. I had remembered Bessie as being just a stereotypical “poor dying girl” to add some melodrama, but this time around, her freakout over “if there’s no God and this life is all there is, I’ll go nuts” made me cry. (It helps that I have more life experience and theological background now to make this feel much more relatable).
What is Mrs. Thornton’s deal? She’s offended when Margaret hadn’t heard of John, she’s offended when Margaret had heard of John, she’s offended that Margaret could be angling after her son, she’s offended when Margaret’s not angling after her son. And believe it or not, ma’am, it is possible to have a conversation where you don’t talk about how the idle, lazy South is so inferior to the industrious North. Get over yourself, woman. I get that you have an inferiority complex, but not everyone is thinking about you every minute of the day.
(Having written all the above, it makes so much more sense that Mrs. Thornton is naturally shy. There’s a vicious self-sustaining cycle between pride and timidity).
Part of the reason that I wanted to reread this is I now have much more interest in economic systems and questions of meaningful labor. I figured I’d be better able to engage with the arguments over the issues, and I was right.
Thornton is...you kind of get where he’s coming from, but he’s a pill. He’s got the Victor’s Bias. Like when the Olympic gold medalist says, “I did it, which proves that anyone can achieve their dreams if they work hard enough.” Like, no. There are still a limited number of spots available. Someone can work just as hard as you, but some piece of dumb luck makes them stumble or gives you an edge. I can’t believe he can’t figure out that, hey, not every working man out there will run into someone who’s willing to make him a partner in the business while he pays off his debts. That’s an astonishing windfall, and his blindness to his privilege is baffling.
Or the fact that his response to, “The men will strike because they don’t understand how we’re spending the money on the business” is “the men have no right to question how I spend my money.” Like, yes they do! You admitted yourself that the industry started with despotic cotton barons. There’s nothing to prove that you’re not doing the same thing if you refuse to tell them anything! Transparency is a good thing, dude.
In one sentence, Margaret outlines why communism is doomed to failure. When she’s like, “There’s no human reason you can’t spend your money however you want, but there are plenty of religious reasons.” Eradicate religion, and there’s nothing stopping the state from doing whatever it wants with your money. Of course, this also applies to “greed is good” capitalists. There is no “system” that will ensure a fair society if you don’t have good men running the system, which is why you need religion to provide moral guidance.
I don’t know how Gaskell does it. She has a scene where a woman dying of a mysterious unnamed disease is crying out for her son who’s living in exile in Spain because of a mutiny, which should be high melodrama, and she somehow makes it feel like a natural part of ordinary life. This is her superpower as an author. Presenting the melodramatic elements through the most natural tiny interactions so even the most contrived events feel utterly realistic. She did it in Wives and Daughters and I’m so thrilled to see the same thing happening here.
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More for @selfshipperapproved (haha yes look im brave enough to use a tag >:’) )! This time, Day 4 - Online Date !
I’m a bit unsure what it means, if it’s online date as in like.. using the apps for online dating or having a date online, but I choose the latter interpretation, so here it is! :>
----
“… so she went like, ‘I need to do this, Sans. I’m going to fix it today, and you won’t stop me.’ and then i said, ‘not without the stabilizer ya aren’t!’”
Sans laughs raucously at his own story, slamming the table until the utensils shake on the plate.
You snicker, though you barely understand Sans’ story that involved scientific and technical jargon while he helped the ex-royal scientist recently. Said he was ‘lonely and bored without you,’ that he ‘needed to do all this other shit to fill in the time while you’re gone’
Which…
Ok, he might’ve been a bit melodramatic about it all, but you know even stripped of all the embellishing words, what Sans is saying is still pretty sweet.
You see Papyrus walking in the background of your video call with Sans, staring at the back of his skull and shaking his head at the camera- or, probably what he intended- you. Trying to communicate ‘I AM SO SORRY THAT THIS IS YOUR BOYFRIEND. HE IS A BRUTE. I CAN ASSURE YOU, I AM DISAPPOINTED WITH HIM.’
Soon after, “bro, i can see you. yer on the ca- ya know i can see my own video feed, right???”
You can’t be blamed for covering your mouth and making an ugly raspberry sound as you try (and fail) to hold back a laugh. Papyrus gives a stomp, “PERHAPS I WANTED YOU TO SEE THAT SANS, HOW STUPID DO YOU THINK I AM?”
“w-“
“NOT AS YOU, THAT’S WHAT.”
You’re still snickering while Sans makes a half growl, half grumble at his brother and waves his hand at him. “paps this is a date. with my girlfriend. a lil’ privacy?”
“HMPH.” Papyrus huffs, “I WAS HERE TO MAKE SURE YOU DON’T MESS IT UP. SHOWS HOW THANKFUL YOU ARE.”
He looks back at the camera and tells you, “HUMAN, IF SANS KEEPS ACTING LIKE A HOOLIGAN, DON’T HESITATE TO CONTACT ME. I’M SURE TO STOP HIM AT AN INSTANT.”
Sans turns around and looks like he’s about to throw a seat pillow at him, but Papyrus is already stomping off to somewhere else in the house.
“fuckin’… stupid… bro… always gettin’ in the way of my quality time with my sweetheart…” Sans starts to mutter.
You’ve known Sans and his brother long enough- even with his words, in his own weird way, you know he’s saying it affectionately.
Sans seems to remember that you are in fact, still on call with him, and you’re now laying your head on your hand watching him with a small smile on your face.
His eyelights shrink a little and- oh no, is he sweating? “shit- sorry doll, i didn’t mean t’… leave ya be fer that long, ya- ya saw what happened…”
“It’s ok, it’s ok Sans! Relax. I don’t mind seeing a comedy routine being played out for me,” you tease, and Sans surprises you when instead of groaning, he chuckles.
“so, uh… where’s yer food? has it arrived yet?” Sans asks, starting to fiddle with the bowtie on his neck (the one that Papyrus had, of course put on your boyfriend. Coming in right as Sans had sat on his chair and barely greeted you a ‘hello’, pulling the thing over his skull, letting it snap over his hoodie.
‘the fuck’r ya doin’, paps!!’
‘BE PRESENTABLE, YOU BUFFOON! IF YOU’RE GOING ON A DATE, YOU COULD AT LEAST LOOK A LITTLE BETTER THAN ‘HOODLUM’!’
‘Hahahah! Oh come on, I don’t mind Paps!’).
As if on cue, before you get to answer him, you hear a doorbell.
“That must be it right now!”
You hastily tell Sans to wait a second, shuffling over your suitcases and your strewn clothes to the door, making a quick exchange of money and ‘have a nice night!’s to the delivery person, stumbling back into your chair.
“Here you go!” you say as you take the container out in front of your laptop, “food’s arrived!”
“alright!” Sans grins as you open it up and drool a little as the steam comes out.
Pasta, your favorite kind with your favorite sauce, right in front of you.
In the video feed, Grillby’s, burger and fries on a fancy dinner plate with the set up of a restaurant’s cutlery on the side. It’s probably cold by now, but Sans had refused when you assured him he could eat- said he wanted to eat at the same time as you.
Your heart practically melted when you heard that, but all you said was “That’s… so sweet, Sans.”
Now that you could both eat though… Sans gives you a toothy grin, waving to the camera, as if he was waving to your food.
“dinner is served, my lady.” He says in an over the top tone of voice, dipping his skull dangerously close to his burger in his ‘bow’ that has you shaking in your chair from your laughter before you both start to dig in.
#sanship#sans x self-ship week 2021#weee#day 4#uf!sans#uf!sans x reader#and#uf!papyrus#is there too#im enjoying writing him haha#of course sans and... m... you.. too#djsfkhd
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the mortifying ordeal of being known... and rejected
or, how to create a self-fulfilling prophecy and get yourself stuck in a hole you’re too scared to try and pull yourself out of (by Bakugou Katsuki).
here is an observation: Bakugou often processes/hides/disguises fear...
uncertainty...
and even grief/guilt...
as anger.
the why, obviously, is because like most humans, he’s afraid of opening up and being vulnerable. but this post isn’t really about discussing the why. rather, it’s about the natural conclusion we can draw from this: that if the majority of Bakugou’s anger is in fact just his way of covering for his “weaker”, more vulnerable feelings, his doubts and fears, then that says a ton about Bakugou’s relationship with the one person he has always displayed the most hostility and aggression towards throughout his life.
so let’s talk about Bakugou’s actual feelings towards Deku.
disclaimer: I am not a therapist, or someone with any kind of psychology expertise; I am just a person that likes to read manga and think too much about fictional characters. so please keep in mind that even though I might not preface every single sentence here with “I think...” or “in my opinion...” obviously these are still just my guesses and interpretations and they may very well be wrong! the only one who knows for sure is the guy over in Japan drawing doodles of sentient flowers in his spare time, and I can’t very well ask him, so for now this will have to do.
so Katsuki and Izuku were childhood friends. let’s take this all the way back to the start. here we have two very young children who are introduced to each other at an age when they’re still young enough to have absolutely no secrets. they’re young enough to have not yet learned to be shy or self-conscious, or to downplay their enthusiasm so as not to let others know they care. kids that young don’t hide anything. they don’t lie or deceive. they don’t have agendas, and they assume that others don’t either. it is, in short, a very pure type of relationship in the sense that it’s honest and uncomplicated, that it is exactly what it appears to be at face value. their personalities are fully out there with no attempt at reining anything in. Katsuki witnesses the full force of Izuku’s boundless hero-worshipping energy and enthusiasm. Izuku witnesses the full extent of Katsuki’s relentless confidence and Peter Pan cockiness. both boys see each other for who they are in their entirety, and accept each other.
this is a fundamental bond. there is trust built between the two of them at a critical, formative age. it’s a relationship formed so early on that it’s likely that neither of them can actually recall a time before they met the other. they are and have always been a constant in each other’s lives. they’re a lot like siblings in terms of that kind of closeness and complete understanding of the other, both the good and the bad. in fact I’d say that Izuku’s use of “Kacchan” (and Katsuki’s automatic acceptance of it) isn’t that different from a younger brother’s use of “Niisan” for his older brother. it’s very revealing of the type of relationship they have. and that includes the typical sibling squabbles as well. it’s very much a relationship that’s taken for granted; there’s no filter, no effort to hold back, no attempt at trying to tone down their behavior around one another. there is whining and bragging and squabbling and name-calling and tears, just as much as there is cooperation and respect and trust. because at the end of the day, the assumption is that the relationship will endure no matter what, so they can go at each other as hard as they can and it doesn’t matter. the other one’s presence is just a given. that’s the kind of relationship that this term “childhood friends” really encapsulates, I think.
what I am trying to say here is that although it’s often viewed by fandom as an imbalanced relationship at best, and a toxic/broken one at worst, I think this is an incredibly important bond to the two of them. this is a relationship that has deep, irreplaceable value. the value lies in being known without having to suffer through the whole mortifying ordeal part. in the absolute, taken-for-granted surety that the other will always be there; in the constant, reassuring, and familiar presence; and in the security of knowing where they stand.
and what that in turn all means is that when four-year-old Bakugou Katsuki is struck by the thought that this relationship is being threatened, that the status quo may not always be quo, that the bond he’s come to rely on may have been built on a crumbling foundation, the emotional response which we are actually seeing here is not anger.
it’s fear.
this is the person who knows him better than anyone else does, and who, knowing all that, has always seemingly found something to admire in him. this is the person who’s always followed him no matter what. this is someone who looked up to him and believed in him, and whose belief and admiration perhaps more than anyone else’s filled him with pride and confidence. so the sudden fear, however ridiculous or unfounded (because at the end of the day he was just a preschooler, and that’s important to remember -- the fact that this fear, misplaced as it is, was based off of a scared four-year-old’s logic, and was incredibly real and overwhelming to said four-year-old), that Katsuki might lose this relationship -- or worse, the fear that the relationship was never real to begin with and was based on a lie and was unreciprocated and he was being strung along and laughed at behind his back the whole time -- is absolutely crushing to him.
because what he realizes in this moment is that in some ways, Izuku is already better than him at being a hero. and this realization, along with the fact that Izuku tries to help him and Katsuki misinterprets that as a gesture of pity or scorn, leads to a sudden cascade of other disastrous fears, including (1) the fear that Izuku is a sudden obstacle to his dream of becoming the number one hero, (2) fear that Izuku is looking down on him and not taking him seriously, and (3) fear that he won’t be able to catch up, because he doesn’t understand this mysterious quality that Izuku has, because that something isn’t physical strength, and that’s the only thing he’s ever considered up until now. and the one thing he does understand is that whatever it is (hint hint, it’s actually heart, and the determination to save and protect others), it’s something he himself lacks.
these are the fears which rise to the surface in this instant, and the fears which Katsuki is on some level at least aware of, and subsequently these are the fears which actually get confessed during Deku VS Kacchan Part 2 and are finally addressed. so all this is stuff we more or less already knew.
but here’s another thought: I believe that this whole time, there was actually a fourth underlying fear which has actually been at the core of all those other fears from the beginning, and which has stayed with him this entire time, and which is such a profoundly upsetting thought to him that he refuses to consciously acknowledge it at all, and yet at the same time also reconstructs his entire personality around it. and that fear is simply this: that Izuku is going to leave him behind.
that’s it. he fears being left behind and discarded by the one person who has always been there. and yeah, okay, I do realize that this is a particular take that will probably have some people going, “uh, what” and gesturing towards THE ENTIRETY OF BAKUGOU’S BEHAVIOR TOWARD DEKU THROUGHOUT THE WHOLE SERIES and raising their eyebrows. and look, yeah, I get it. the fuck kind of fanficcy, melodramatic “deep down the two of them were closer than anything” take is this. “you’re telling me Katsuki’s absolutely reprehensible behavior toward Izuku for a full ten years of their lives had less to do with him being full of himself and hating on Izuku for being quirkless, and more to do with him being sad and fearful and upset over the thought of losing his closest friend?”
but... yeah. that’s exactly what I’m telling you. because for starters, his reaction is about 50 times too over-the-top for it to be anything else. but because also, his reaction to this one fear is so starkly different from the way we’ve seen him react to all of those other fears. usually, when Katsuki is faced with a challenge, he has a very specific response:
so why, then, would his reaction toward Izuku throwing down the gauntlet be any different? hell, we’ve seen how he reacts toward people that are stronger than him (Todoroki), and towards people he thinks aren’t taking him seriously (again, Todoroki), and it’s completely different from how he treated Izuku. his entire personality shifted from being cocky and confident and nearly always having a grin plastered on his face, to him being hostile and defensive and antisocial and almost never, ever smiling. in fact he doesn’t ever really seem be happy at all.
so yeah. this is my take. he fears being left behind. it’s not just that he fears losing to Izuku; it’s that he fears losing Izuku. because of course he does, because given the significance of that bond as explained above, that’s the natural thing to fear. the two of them have always been together. he’s never not had Izuku there. and so he might bitch about it and act like he doesn’t care about it, but in truth it’s because he fears the loss of it so much that he lashes out defensively -- no you can’t push me away, if you even try I’m going to push you away first so you can’t hurt me.
because that’s what it is, isn’t it? bullying Izuku every time he gets too close. telling him over and over again to stop following him, and to not try and get into UA. Izuku, from his perspective, is looking down on him, so at the end of the day it’s just easier for him to convince himself that he doesn’t even like Izuku, that he’s just someone who’s in his way, and that Izuku isn’t the one leaving him behind, fuck that, he’s the one who’s going to leave Izuku behind. that it’s his choice. it just hurts less. fear as anger, because anger is just easier to deal with; anger gets you fired up and helps motivate you; and anger doesn’t leave you feeling as hollow inside. or at least it can help distract you from that feeling.
so. this is all pretty goddamn miserable, all things considered. and so it goes for the next decade of their lives. except Izuku never does go away. and then one day he goes and saves his life, and from there on out we basically know the rest.
fast forward to the present! or I guess technically three months ago, since as of chapter 257 the present is now Late March/DAWN OF THE FINAL DAY (24 HOURS REMAIN), apparently, and what I actually want to talk about now is the internship, and its impact on their relationship as seen since then.
I’ve already talked about the internship’s general impact on Katsuki in a previous essay, so I won’t really get into it at length again here, but basically the short version is that I think (or am at least hoping) that over the course of this whole thing, Katsuki finally started to broaden his perspective to be a little less self-focused. and as a result of that, I think that seeing Endeavor’s broken relationship with his family, and in particular watching Endeavor apologize to Natsuo and tell him “you don’t need to forgive me” (and Natsu being all WELL YEAH, I WASN’T GONNA) was kind of a much-needed kick in the pants for him as far as making him realize that his relationship with Deku, newly renovated and given a fresh coat of paint after the whole Ground Beta fight, and finally starting to look a bit like its old self again after all this time... maybe isn’t actually quite as sound as he thought it was.
and isn’t that a fun thought. because here they were finally starting to fix that shit after all this fucking time. after a decade of constantly worrying about Izuku surpassing him and passing him on by, he finally realized that this fear was unfounded the whole time... only to subsequently realize that there’s another reason now why that relationship might still be in jeopardy. that being the small fact that, oh right, Katsuki has been a straight up dick to him for the past ten years. oh shit.
this is something he never once thought about before. because previously he was too blinded by his own fears, and his conviction that he was the one being looked down on, and that Izuku was the one who instigated everything. and then once he finally realized he’d gotten it wrong, I think there was a delay before it finally hit him just how much hurt and harm he actually caused, simply because he’s not used to examining things from anyone else’s perspective other than his own. and then there’s also the fact that this entire time, Izuku has never once really shown any kind of lingering bitterness or hostility toward him in spite of everything. in fact he’s been seemingly overjoyed to finally have that friendship rekindled again, and he’s been more admiring toward Katsuki than ever.
in short, I’m pretty sure that up until very recently, Katsuki has just sort of been taking Izuku’s forgiveness for granted. just assuming that he already had been forgiven, even though yeah, okay, he was pretty bad. he just had no reason to think otherwise, because Izuku’s personality is so kind and accepting and understanding that he never even showed a hint of harboring any kind of bad feelings toward him over it. not to mention that all of the really bad stuff happened so long ago -- going on two years now! -- and Izuku has never once said anything about it! and so Katsuki, being the dumbass he is (and also subconsciously wanting to avoid the guilt, no doubt, because hoo boy, that is not a pleasant emotion at all), just sort of assumed that it was all right. that they were past it.
but... is that actually true? are they, really? or is he just telling himself that because it’s what he wants to think? after all, he did recently learn that he interpreted every single one of Izuku’s actions pretty much 100% wrong for about a dozen years. so fair to say he might not be so good at reading him. and, well... what he did to him was really bad. he was really fucking awful. regardless of how generous and kindhearted Izuku might be, Katsuki really has no right to just expect forgiveness, actually. he has no idea what kind of feelings are actually lurking there beneath that freckly surface. just look at all the resentment Endeavor’s kids have bottled up toward him for what he did. and maybe Izuku is only trying so hard to get along with him now because of what All Might said, about how the two of them are supposed to try and learn from each other. and isn’t it possible, and maybe even likely, that deep down he actually hates him as much as Natsuo hates Endeavor?
so there’s the bitter irony: Katsuki spent a dozen years believing that Izuku spited him, and trying his best to push him away so as not to feel the hurt of being spited, only to finally realize that the enmity between them was all in his head, and that in truth, he was the one driving the wedge in between them and chipping away at the cracks the entire time. that in reality he was the one doing the damage. that the thing he was so afraid of was never actually a real possibility until he brought it into existence, but that it does exist, now -- the possibility that their bond really might have been destroyed. and that it’s entirely his fault. that he created his own demons and dragged them into the light.
so now he’s afraid all over again, except that this time, he has absolutely no idea what to do. if he tries to push Izuku away again, he’ll only bring about the worst-case possible outcome that much faster. not to mention that he already played that song for more than a decade, and if there’s one thing it taught him, it’s that he hates that tune almost as much as the alternative.
so then what he should do, clearly, is apologize. that’s the right thing, obviously. the heroic thing. and I don’t think he’s incapable of moving past his pride in order to do it. and on top of that, I think he probably wants to apologize because he actually is sorry! but I do think there is something else that’s currently holding him back. and that something, once again, is fear.
Katsuki is normally one to face his fears head on. in fact, I’ve previously gone on record as saying that he would apologize without hesitation once he realized how badly he fucked up, because he’s not one to shy away from accepting responsibility no matter what the consequences. but now, though, I think that I was wrong. it’s not that he doesn’t want to take responsibility, or that he doesn’t think an apology is owed. rather, I think I underestimated just how great this one, last, biggest fear of his is. the fear of that possible rejection. the idea that Izuku might not accept. that he might say no. that it might simply be too little, too late.
it’s the one thing Katsuki has never been able to face. the fear that started this all to begin with. it’s the one fear that has shaped him since his childhood, and the one fear that he stands frozen and powerless against. the fear of having the one person who’s always admired him no matter what revealing that in truth, he doesn’t. the fear of having all his deepest doubts and fears confirmed. if he isn’t seen as redeemable or worthy to Izuku, who knows him best, who’s seen him at both his highest and lowest and understands him to a degree which one else does, not All Might (whose approval, by the way, also runs through Deku and which he also stands to lose) or his parents or teachers or his other friends... if he’s seen as beyond forgiveness by him, then that’s a blow he can’t recover from.
so now he’s stuck here in this precarious position with Izuku where he doesn’t want to take a step backwards again, but is too afraid to try and move forward. which brings us to the current chapter, where for the time being it seems like he’s decided to simply embrace the status quo, which in his mind is “rivals.”
so he’s leaning hard into that now, and simply pretending like things between him and Izuku have already been fixed, without actually taking the steps necessary to really move past it, because in the end it’s just easier. and I think that he will continue as is until that status quo either becomes too difficult or painful to maintain (i.e. the guilt becomes too much to bear), or until something happens to finally trigger a boost of courage in him, or a realization that he needs to stop being selfish and own up to his actions.
but eventually that will happen. and I think he knows that deep down. if nothing else, this is something that’s currently standing in the way of him becoming the number one. he has no right to ever call himself a hero if he can’t even muster up the courage to apologize, and to accept whatever consequences may come with that, just as Endeavor did, even if it potentially means being shut down and cast aside. he has no right to expect or demand anything else.
but at the end of the day, Katsuki is still only human, and still a young one at that. and he has only just gotten his friend back. and I can tell you right now that Izuku is not the only one who feels relief and even gratitude at being able to have a “normal-ish” conversation with the other after all this time, regardless of whether or not Katsuki might deny it. and really, there’s no rush. he’ll have to face it soon enough, and he knows.
but for now, this is nice.
#bnha 257#bnha meta#bakugou katsuki#midoriya izuku#bakudeku#bnha#boku no hero academia#bnha spoilers#mha spoilers#makeste reads bnha#bakugou meta
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Hiiii it's me againnn~ so I just thought of something. What if the PT boys have an S/O who is a phantom thief or just a persona user in general but for some reason they lose their persona and end up manifesting a Palace? :33
Hey, simulationone !! Hope you’re doing well. :)
This was a really interesting request to write, I really enjoyed it!!
{ Once again, I wrote too much for Akechi because I was interested in how it would turn out. Hey, at least it’ll satiate the stans. }
- Nexus.
Joker { Akira Kurusu }
✧ As the leader of the Phantom Thieves, Akira became increasingly concerned as his significant other said they felt as though they were going to collapse in Mementos. They had been on the back lines the entire time so there was no chance that they should be injured by anything but he decides to leave at the next Break Room because the others were tired as well.
✧ Something seemed to be different about their appearance but he could not quite pinpoint it. Perhaps they were tired? His mind was all too muddled to properly come to a conclusion & Morgana was telling him to head to bed.
✧ When the next meeting was called & they had not turned up, it was quite suspicious. His significant other was never one to miss a meeting, even if it was just to talk about information or plot. Pulling out his phone, he texted them but received no response for the entire afternoon.
✧ Disgruntled at the lack of response, he went to school the next day to confront them. Finding out they had not attended school today, he was worried even more than before. Could they be ill? Is that why they felt faint in Mementos?
✧ He never suspects that they would gain a Palace until someone else types their name into the Metaverse Navigator & tells him. As soon as he finds out, he wastes no time at all in infiltrating the Palace with the other Phantom Thieves.
✧ The whole time, he is quieter than usual & only speaks to give out orders to the others or to summon his Personas. In truth, he is reflecting & looking back at his interactions with them to see if there was anything he could have done to stop their Palace from developing.
✧ Once the time comes to send the Calling Card, he personally delivers it. No matter their response, Akira is determined to fix something he could have just as easily prevented. This is the one time that he feels a bad taste in his mouth from beating a Shadow.
✧ Immediately afterwards, he finds them & apologises for not being good enough. In the end whilst everything is fixed, Akira looks out more often for them. They are the most important thing in his life, after all.
Skull { Ryuji Sakamoto }
✧ Another mission in Mementos, another day. Dispatching of Shadows was easy for Skull as long as he had both his friends & his significant other. The next particular request was rather personal to them. So when Joker requested them on the front lines & their Phantom Thief outfit disintegrated into flames, something was wrong. Why had they lost their will to rebel?
✧ Everyone was concerned but they brushed it off, saying that someone else should just take their place. So Joker requested that he be put up in the front, which he wanted to badly to protest against but he could not find the words to do so, especially against his leader.
✧ With the Shadow dispatched of, Ryuji thought that they would return back to normal but they did not. Because Mementos was inherently dangerous, a decision to leave was made.
✧ Perhaps distorted by feeling useless to the rest of the Phantom Thieves, they eventually developed a Palace. Although he still hung out with them, their self-deprecating behaviour was concerning.
✧ It was all too similar to Futaba. The behaviour, how trapped they felt. At times, Ryuji was not the most intellectual of people but even he could connect the dots & type their name into the Metaverse Navigator. With some reluctance, he accepted that this was something the Phantom Thieves would have to tackle together.
✧ Throughout the Palace, he insists on being in the front lines as much as possible. Breaks become shorter & he feels more impatient. The others eventually have to force him to relax, they are working on the problem but in order to be safe, they had to regain energy.
✧ Once the Calling Card is delivered & they take the Treasure, Ryuji waits. He knows that most of the other victims of a Palace needed time to come to term with their thoughts & the others reminded him that patience is the key. Whenever they decide to start appearing in public again, he pulls them into a kiss & vows not to let anything bad happen to them ever again.
Fox { Yusuke Kitagawa }
✧ Shock is his first reaction when the other Phantom Theives inform him that his significant other had a Palace. Previously, Yusuke knew that they were a Persona user but they refused to join the group, opting to become their own vigilante of justice.
✧ Typing their name in, he has to confirm it for himself. Once he sees the actual Palace, only then does he properly believe that anything had happened to them. He strengthens his resolve but asks to remain on the back lines. Knowing full well that he is open to moments of emotion, Fox does not want to be in the way when there is a life threatening situation going down.
✧ Although he could not bare to fight against their Shadow self, he repeatedly insists on writing the Calling Card himself. It is incredibly well written, if not slightly melodramatic. However, it still has the intended effect.
✧ Giving them space is a ghastly thought, especially when who knows what they have been through in order to manifest a Palace? He immediately finds his way over to their house —even if he has to walk two miles— with comfort food.
✧ Ever so gently, Yusuke pulls them into a cuddle & asks if there is anything he can do to make them feel better. Despite the fact he has no money, pampering them emotionally is something he can do quite easily.
Crow { Goro Akechi }
✧ Encountering his significant other in the Metaverse had been a surprise to be sure & he had almost resigned himself to eliminating them but when they had told him that they were not interested in justice or Palaces & that they instead merely wanted to gather both materials from Mementos as well as flowers for Jose, he sighed in relief.
✧ Although it meant that he was forced to wear his Detective Prince outfit whenever he went to Mementos, it was easy to trick them whenever he saw them on the surface level talking to Jose. Besides, it was easy to switch between Personas.
✧ So when they stopped coming, he was concerned. They had been cancelling dates for a long while, which had never happened before & everything seemed so tense around them. It was strange.
✧ Weeks later, Akechi became sick of his behaviour & typed their name into the Metaverse Navigator. His heart went cold when a Palace of all things came up.
✧ Everything went on hold as he tried to figure out the location & distortion. Anything goes from texting them, to directly asking why they had been acting strange. From the terminology used, he eventually figures it out & heads to the Metaverse for the first time with the intent not to kill someone. He tears through the entire Palace in a day. No Shadow is left alive that tries to stop his approach. When he reaches the Treasure room he comes to a realisation: How can he force the Treasure to manifest?
✧ There was one solution & he hated to do so but eventually he decided to take up the name of the Phantom Thieves & cobbled together a calling card in their style. It was the same eloquent & extra writing along side their glitzy logo, so looked believable.
✧ Facetious was an accurate word to describe their reaction when he stated that this Calling Card was found in the mail & this reflected on their Shadow self. After defeating what was left of their cognition, Akechi took the Treasure, fleeing from the quickly fading Palace.
✧ When he next ran into them, things were much different. They apologised for being both physically & emotionally distant but he reassured them with a hug that there was no harm done. After all, he missed some dates himself.
Word Count: 1.3k
Publish Date: 13.10.20
#{ joker }#{ skull }#{ fox }#{ crow }#{ I did Yusuke’s last & it really shows }#akira kurusu x reader#akira x reader#akira kusuru#ryuji sakamoto x reader#ryuji x reader#ryuji sakamoto#yusuke kitagawa x reader#yusuke x reader#yusuke kitagawa#goro akechi x reader#akechi x reader#goro akechi
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Sleepless in Sundari | Maul x Reader
Sleepless in Sundari | Maul x Reader (gender neutral)
@brilliantbutbatty asked: Hello there! Could I request a fluff where s/o is super tired and refuses to go sleep, until Maul insists?
This is such a cute prompt. I wanted to make the reason for reader’s sleeplessness a good thing to try and not trigger anyone. So this is set in Mandalore at the Sundari Royal Palace during a big ball that the reader planned.
Word Count: 2.0k
Warnings: Fluff, alcohol mentioned, Maul does pick reader up (I know that can come off as not inclusive, but my reasoning was that Maul is extremely strong physically and in the force so there’s no reason he couldn’t pick someone up in my mind.), as always in my writing, Maul is soft lol, also there is a curse word or two.
Tonight was the night you’d been waiting on for months. The grand ball between all the factions of the Shadow Collective. You had single handedly planned almost all of the details, down to the smallest features like what shape ice cubes the cocktails would have (small star shapes), where each guest would sit, the menu, the music selection, and on and on. You were exhausted, but so happy and excited the night was finally here.
You were getting dressed in the bedroom, when hands suddenly wrapped around your waist from behind you and a deep, low voice whispered in your ear,
“You look unbelievably beautiful, my love” You sunk into his arms and slowly turned to look into his bright amber eyes.
“Oh Maul! I am so nervous and excited about tonight. I don’t think I’ve slept in days planning for this.” You reached up to touch his crimson face and trace the complex black tattoos accenting his features so handsomely. You never tired of studying everything about him. He leaned in to lightly kiss you on the lips.
“Everything is set. You did an amazing job and now all you need to do is have a good time at the party you planned so diligently.” he reassured you.
“Yes, I suppose. I guess having all these different powerful forces come together at once is just a little nerve wracking for me.” you admitted, biting your lower lip. Maul began to laugh and held you at arm's length speaking in his deep melodramatic voice,
“What could you have to fear when you have me at your side? Always remember I am fear. Always remember--”
“Yes, my love, I remember,” you cut him off, something only you could get away with and actually have him shut up for a moment. “I am not worried about you or me, I just want everyone to have a good time and for it to go smoothly. There is a lot riding on this party whether you want to acknowledge that or not.” you looked deep into his eyes and held onto his waist as you spoke, the warmth of his body traveling through your fingertips and igniting that spark inside of you that only he could achieve.
“Of course, I promise everyone will have a good time.” he leaned in to kiss you again and continued, “Now are you ready? I can’t possibly show up to this thing alone.” he teased.
The Sundari Royal Palace was dressed to the nines tonight, and everything and everyone looked absolutely magical. The chandeliers gave off a cool blue light onto everything below and the windows were wide open to let in the cool night breeze, so desperately needed with all the bodies enclosed in one space. There was a blue and golden aura around everyone and all felt like a dream. Not to mention, you were walking into it all as the center of attention, wrapped around the love of your life.
The band stopped the music and everyone slowly stopped talking as you both approached the front of the ballroom. Maul made a grandiose speech about the Shadow Collective and how important all the powers that be were to making it a cohesive unit. You mostly tuned out as you looked around making sure everything was as you had planned it. Maul name-dropped you to thank you for all the planning and you smiled and gave a little wave of acknowledgement as the crowd roared in approval.
The band started up again and Maul was immediately busy networking with everyone. As much as you loved being at his side, listening to these pathetic crime lords try to suck up to Maul was not something you had the patience for any longer. You made your way around the party checking in on guests and on the waiters. Finally, deciding you deserved some food and drink too, you grabbed a plate of food and a cocktail and headed to an empty table.
A deep friendly voice sounded out behind you, “Someone so ethereal shouldn’t be by themselves, your majesty.” You turned, smiling and knowing immediately whose voice it was.
“Savage!” you went in for an immediate hug and the tall, yellow, and the armored zabrak laughed heartily, hugging you firmly back.
“This party kind of blows, huh, I wonder who planned it?!” you joked to him.
“This party absolutely does NOT blow. And I know first hand who planned it and they did a marvelous job. How dare you say otherwise.” He said furrowing his brow. You forgot how sarcasm was so easily lost on the night brothers. Maul was at least sort of getting used to it, but Savage was a lost cause for it, especially anything self deprecating. He only wanted to lift up those around him who he cared for. It was extremely sweet and admirable, but damn if it wasn’t a little annoying at times when you just wanted a laugh out of someone.
“Savage, you’re so sweet. I’m glad I ran into you. Where have you been?” you asked gently, holding back the desire to roll your eyes.
“Did Maul not tell you? I have had to wrangle….” His eyes grew wide as he looked around at the surroundings and his voice grew quiet, “it’s best I not discuss it out loud here.”
“Oh ok I understand.” You smiled at him, a yawn suddenly encompassing your entire face it felt. You tried to hold it back, but it was out of your control and just happening. Thankfully, you were with Savage, who was the least judgmental person in the galaxy.
“You must be so tired from all this planning.” he said with a concerned look on his face “and i’m sure my brother was little to no help to you.” he crossed his arms and scanned the room to see where Maul was.
“Maul is busy with his own duties. I said I would plan this and I was happy to do so. I’m just so tired now.” you choked back another yawn as you spoke to Savage. He hummed a not so quiet disapproval.
“Let’s dance! That will wake me up!” you exclaim to him, trying to tap into your already depleted reserve of energy.
“Oh. You know i’m not really good at dancing. i don’t even really--” you cut him off as you grabbed his arm and dragged his giant carcass onto the dance floor. The music was lively and upbeat so you and Savage stood face to face making ridiculous dance moves and faces to the music. You laughed hysterically, which made Savage smile fiercely and continue to act completely goofy. The poor boy would never understand sarcasm, but he understood how good it felt to make someone he cared deeply for laugh and smile, and he had absolutely no shame.
Eventually, Maul walked over to you and Savage dancing like complete fools. His arms were crossed and his brow furrowed harshly.
“I see the children are having a good time.” He said coldly. You and Savage immediately stopped dancing and looked at him with shocked expressions to his rudeness. Maul threw up his arms in defeat,
“You told me sarcasm was funny, and yet no one laughed.” his brows furrowed in defeat as you started cackling out.
“Oh Maul, my love, I think you don’t quite get it yet, but I love that you are trying!” you laughed and reached out for his arms. He resisted a tiny bit at first, but ultimately decided he couldn’t deny you anything including himself and wrapped himself around you.
“I missed you my love. Why did you wander away from me?” he whispered, his hot breath on your ear and neck where he spoke.
“I just hate how pathetic everyone acts trying to suck up to you. I mean I get it, there is no other reaction to have towards you, but it exhausts me seeing these so-called powerful crime lords simpering.” you quietly expressed into his ear, as he hugs you closer, each word you say.
“I think I’ll go check on-- something…” Savage mumbled as he walked away from the two of you melting into each other’s arms.
You felt your eyelids get so heavy now in the comfort of Maul’s strong arms and resting your head on his shoulder.
“You are so tired, my love. I’ve sensed it all night.” he put his hand on the back of your head and you felt yourself further softening. You could have fallen asleep standing if it weren’t for everything happening around you. The music matched the mood and played a slow love song. You clung harder to the crimson zabrak and he purred lightly.
“I will be ok, I want to stay until the end with you,” you sleepily replied as the song you were dancing to came to an end. He grabbed your hand and walked you off the dance floor.
The rest of the party you were with Maul and Savage as the three of you mingled with the crowd. It was much more bearable now that everyone was a little more loosened up than when the party first began.
Slowly, folks began to make their way out for the evening. The three of you stayed to see everyone out and make sure there were no issues. You started helping the staff clear off tables.
“My love, it is time for us to retire for the evening.” Maul gently grabbed your arm to turn you around to face him.
“Oh, it’s alright. I’ll stay and help clean. I’m too wired from all the excitement now to sleep anyway.” you smiled as you spoke, but your tired eyes gave you away. He looked at you unconvincingly and picked you up without warning and throwing you over his shoulder. You let out a surprised yelp and punched his back laughing.
“Maul! Put me down. This is not necessary.” you pleaded with laughter spilling out, making it impossible for him to take you seriously.
“You will not stop worrying about this party even after it is over. I am too tired to plead with you.” He explained as he walked you swiftly down the hall.
“Ok. Ok. I won't argue you can put me down.” and with that he gently put you down and you leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his middle and resting your head on his shoulder as you walked down the hall together. The halls were dark and quiet save for the flickering lanterns on the wall lighting your way, and the soft murmur of the party goers off in the distance going their own ways for the evening. You felt such contentment for how successful the party was and how lucky you were to be with the most handsome man in the entire galaxy.
At last, you both made it back to your bedroom. You both undressed quietly and climbed into the giant bed you shared. You were exhausted, but your heart was racing from all the adrenaline of the party.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to calm down enough to sleep.” you almost whispered, feeling like you were going to cry from the tiredness
“Sure you will. Lie your head here.” Maul motioned for you to lie on his shoulder and he wrapped that arm around to lightly pet your head, neck and upper back. He smelled so good, his natural body odor mixing with the fresh rose scent of your hair. You wrapped your legs around his, the cool metal was comforting to you in contrast to the radiating heat of his upper body. It was the best of both worlds. You put your hand on his chest to feel for his heartbeats. The rhythm of his hearts always calmed and soothed you.
His petting was doing the trick and you could feel your heart rate slow as you matched his slow breathing as well. He kissed the top of your head and whispered,
“You are my everything.”
You closed your eyes and held him close as you finally slipped out of consciousness a slight smile curving your lips as you slept.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Thank you for reading! <3 I hope it’s comforting! I thought it would be cute to write Savage as like the goofy brother in law hehe I think he’d be so fun to dance silly with
tag list: @brilliantbutbatty
@maulieber
@botherbother-blog
@emissarydecksetter
@a-dorin
#maul x reader#fluff#mandalore#maul#savage opress#shadow collective#star wars x reader#fanfic request#darth maul fanfic#lord maul#soft maul#prequels era
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Who we Grew to Be
HAPPY HOLIDAYS @vertdegrece!!!! You asked for grown up Daphne/Pinocchio, so you got a lot of vaguely purple prose leading up to adult Daphnocchio! I haven’t written for this ship in a while, I forgot that I like it!
also posted on AO3
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Daphne and Pinocchio do not grow up together. That would be too easy. Daphne stalls out for a little bit at eleven, when she gets her first zit, but besides that, she grows like any human child: straight through.
Pinocchio, on the other hand, grows in fits and starts. He’s been cursed that way, because the Blue Fairy, his absent mother, takes as much as she gives. All her blessings have a little bit of the monkey’s paw about them, so he only grows as old as he acts, forever cursed to act his own age.
The upshot of this is that they don’t spend much time together in childhood. Daphne is much closer to Red, who grows at the same pace she does. Pinocchio, too, is closer to Red. They live in the same house, after all. And Red may be aging at the same pace as her best friend, but she’s got a sort of ageless quality about her that makes it easy for Pinocchio to spend time with her no matter how different their ages are, physically.
Oh, they see each other nearly all of every summer, when Henry and Veronica pack up their rarely-used car to make the drive up from NYC to Ferryport Landing, towing their children with them. Summers are nice. Daphne likes summer, when she has her whole family together in Granny’s newly-renovated ramble of a house for two entire months. Even Puck and Uncle Jake are nearly always there.
But they don’t hang out. Daphne out-ages Pinocchio for the first two years, the growing difference between seven and nine not nearly as much of an impediment as Pinocchio’s snobby brattishness. Then he makes a leap forward, catching up and almost outstripping her to ten. They leapfrog their way through childhood, only matching up briefly every few years. Then he makes a final jump from sixteen and moody to somewhere much closer to twenty, and he’s off to university while Daphne is still sixteen herself, and he throws himself into the kind of universities that he now looks old enough to be a student at.
Sixteen is a weird time. They’re the same age, for once, and they’re together in Granny’s house, for the last time, it’ll later turn out. Pinocchio spends a lot more time with her than usual, but he’s grumpier than he’s been since he was ten, demanding her attention one minute and then scoffing at her the next. Sabrina rolls her eyes and tells him to get his act together, but she’s mostly too busy hate-flirting with Puck to explain what she means, even though she gives Daphne knowing looks whenever pressed.
Then Granny dies, and Daphne’s family shatters.
Puck and Uncle Jake disappear to opposite corners of the globe. Sabrina and Pinocchio go back to school and if Daphne didn’t drag her sister home over the weekends, she’d never see her. Her parents start fighting, both of them either at work or at home but not present. Mr. Canis is so heartbroken that Red is spending all her time, nearly, with him, trying to make him eat or sleep or smile. Basil is furious and heartbroken by turns, begging Daphne for hugs one moment and screaming at her the next. Daphne feels like she’s alone, pulling at a dozen different strings that are all tied to people running as hard as they can in opposite directions. Like she’s being drawn and quartered by her own grief, by her own desire to keep her family together.
It doesn’t come to a head at any one point. It’s several smaller heads, a million little breaks, separate scenes where Daphne begs each of her family members to come back to her one by one. Most of them do. Puck and Pinocchio don’t.
And she gets it. She knows, from the way Mr. Canis and her dad look at her sometimes, that she’s the most like Granny out of all of them. She’s got her grandmother’s righteous indignation and need to help everyone, her rigid moral compass that even she knows is a little shy of true north, her big, enormous heart. Of course it’ll hurt to come back to her. Of course it’ll be like looking at the little imperfect shadow of the woman they’ve lost, the woman who loved them when nobody else would.
It doesn’t make her any less furious at them. And, for a year or two, she’s almost glad they’ve stayed away, her hurt turning into anger.
Fast forward again, to Sabrina’s wedding. By this point, Pinocchio has sort of been back in her life, by virtue of being back in Red’s life. He’s halfway through a doctorate in history, and Daphne’s learned through Red that he wants to get more, in anthropology and archaeology, among other things. He wants to get all the doctorates, from the sound of it.
Sabrina’s wedding goes strangely. Daphne may have meddled a little bit. Just a tiny, tiny bit. But it’s not her fault Sabrina kept moping about Puck. It was super obvious. And Bradley’s a nice guy and all, and Daphne knows Sabrina loves him, but it’s not gonna be a happy marriage if they don’t at least get all the Puck baggage out in the open. So she meddles. Finds Puck, pulls him out of his five-year mope, and throws him at the wedding.
It’s a mess, obviously. There’s a huge scene at the wedding, it sort of falls apart, a lot of forgetful dust has to be spread around. At the end of it, Daphne’s left standing, exhausted, with an empty bag of forgetful dust, watching the last of the guests leave. Or, at least, she thought it was all the guests.
“Are you cleaning up as penance?” someone says behind her, in an absolutely gorgeous voice.
“Come again?” She turns, and there’s Pinocchio, in all his dark academia glory. He’s grown into his nose, though it’s still a striking centerpiece to his face.
“For turning your sister’s wedding into a fiasco,” he clarifies. “I assume that was you.”
“Maybe,” she says, trying for teasing. It comes out a little more flirtatious than she meant it. What? He’s cute, okay?
“How—how have you been?” Pinocchio asks.
He could’ve asked her that any time in the past five years. Any time. She’s honestly kind of surprised he came to the wedding. She will not give him the cold shoulder, though. She won’t. She’s better than that now.
“I’m all right,” she says. “In college. You?”
“Also in college,” Pinocchio says. He gives her a small smile.
She smiles back. It’s all very awkward. She starts gathering up wedding decorations.
“I, uh,” Pinocchio says after a minute. “I think I owe you an apology.”
Damn right he does. She doesn’t say that, though. She does look at him expectantly.
He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, not making eye contact. “After—Well. You know. I shouldn’t have run away like that. I was hurting, and spending time around anyone who knew your grandma just made me think about how much I hurt. So I ran away. And that wasn’t fair. Because you were all hurting, too, and I know you, especially, wanted everyone to stay close.”
“Very nicely said,” Daphne approves. “Did Red coach you on it?”
“Only a little,” Pinocchio admits. “But I mean it. All of it.”
“All right,” Daphne says. And she takes a deep breath, the way she’s been practicing with Cindy, and she lets the anger go. “I forgive you. But only if you’re done hiding.”
“I am,” he says, and he smiles at her.
They keep in contact after the wedding. Pinocchio still has a tendency to bury himself in books and forget about other humans, but if she texts him, he’ll text back the same day. Usually. She tells him about the weird things going on between Puck, Sabrina, and Bradley. Occasionally he’ll send her an unprompted message ranting about something she has only the vaguest understanding of. She’ll patch it together across the pages her phone’s divided it into and have wikipedia open for reference as she reads. They go out for coffee at least once a month, sometimes with Red, sometimes without her.
Daphne refuses to ask him for help with her homework. Getting a degree in social work requires a lot more of the hard sciences than she’d anticipated. It’s frustrating, but it’s worth it. She’s gonna be able to help people, when she’s done with this. Everafters and humans alike. Oh, Sabrina’s got her child advocacy law thing going on, and that’s great, but Daphne’s determined to help people before they get to the point where the courts have to get involved. And she’s not going to do it by depending on Pinocchio for help. She can do this on her own.
But as she moves from her bachelor’s to the postgrad degree it’s apparent she’s going to need if she wants to actually get a, y’know, job in her field, she does start complaining to Pinocchio more. They’re at the same university, Pinocchio now well into an anthropology degree, so they hang out at the library pretty often, their noses buried in separate books or laptops.
Pinocchio’s funny. She’d forgotten about that, or never really learned it. He’s got a dry sense of humor, and he’s sarcastic like you wouldn’t believe. He’s fun to be around.
“I had a crush on you, you know,” he tells her one day, apropos of nothing, as he stretches in his chair, taking a break from whatever he’s working on right now.
“What?” Daphne pauses, not sure she’s heard him right. She’s been pretty intent on putting together a case study review.
“When we were, oh, sixteen or so,” Pinocchio says. It’s too casual to be anything but feigned. He knows exactly how old they were. “G-d, you were so—friendly. Overwhelmingly so.”
“Am I not friendly anymore?” Daphne asks, but she’s teasing. Friendly. What a reason to get a crush on someone!
“Nope,” Pinocchio teases right back. “Downright unpersonable. I must be rubbing off on you.”
“If Sabrina couldn’t turn me into a grouch, you’re definitely not gonna manage it,” Daphne says with an easy grin. “This new ‘unpersonable’ thing is all me, baby.”
“The world has worn on you,” Pinocchio says with a melodramatic sigh. “You’ve finally lost your childlike joy.”
“Only took twenty-three years,” Daphne says with a grin. The conversation dies for a minute, then Daphne brings it back. “Why bring it up now?”
Pinocchio shrugs. “I was just thinking about it. Thinking about back then. It was nice. I miss it.”
“You barely talked to me!” Daphne says with a laugh.
Someone two tables over glares at her, and she gives them an apologetic wave and a smile.
“I was shy!” Pinocchio protests. “I didn’t know how to talk to someone I liked! Let alone someone who was in my house the whole summer!”
“Fair enough,” Daphne agrees. “I hope you know this is teasing fodder for forever, though.”
“Oh no,” Pinocchio says, deadpan again. “What will I ever do. You’ve never teased me before in my life. I don’t think I can handle it.” He pauses, then says, “You don’t seem surprised. That I liked you.”
“What can I say?” Daphne winks at him. “Nobody can resist my charms.”
“Fair enough,” Pinocchio says, giving her a shrug. Then he goes back to studying.
Time passes. Daphne graduates, can’t get a job through normal channels, but gets herself employed working for Faerie. Pinocchio teases her about nepotism, but listen. If there were anyone else qualified, she wouldn’t need to do this job. She and Pinocchio don’t spend all their time together in the library anymore, but they do meet up for lunch, and dinner, and sometimes breakfast. Someone has to make sure he remembers to eat, after all.
Several months into seeing each other nearly every day, by choice rather than by ease, something occurs to Daphne.
“Are we dating?” she asks.
Pinocchio chokes a little. “What?”
“Are we dating?” she repeats, emphasizing each word a little more clearly.
“How would we be dating?”
“We see each other almost every day,” Daphne starts, ticking her points off on her fingers as she goes. “We go out to dinner together, just the two of us. We watch movies together. We hang out in each other’s apartments. I text you almost as much as I text my brother and sister, and more than I text Red. When I have news, you’re the first person I want to tell. You leave your little nerd fort to hang out with me.”
“I mean—” Pinocchio splutters. “You’re— Dating usually involves a certain amount of intent, doesn’t it?”
Well, yeah, okay, there’s that. But Daphne’s stumbled into relationships before, only realized what they were partway through. Love is messy like that. But, well. Pinocchio likes things to be clearly labeled. People don’t come naturally to him the way they do to her.
“Would you like this to be dating?” she asks.
“Would you?” he counters, still spluttering and blushing.
Would she?
She thinks about all the things she listed, about how she wants to spend time with him, about the way he’s comfortable. About his dry sense of humor, about his stupid handsome face, about the way, every time she sees him she’s struck, a little, by the sight. About how it makes her heart beat faster. She’d put it down to his being one of the hottest men she’s ever seen, but that should probably have worn off sometime in the past few years, right?
“Yes,” she decides. She would like to date him.
“Oh,” Pinocchio says. His blush deepens.
He says nothing else for a long minute, and Daphne starts blushing too. “If you don’t—I mean, I—listen. It doesn’t. I’ve gotten crushes on friends before. If you don’t want to date me, that’s fine. It doesn’t have to change anything. We can forget this whole conversation!” Because she’d rather keep his friendship than anything else.
“No!” Pinocchio rushes in. “No, that’s not—I just—I mean—” he’s stumbling over her words, now, the two of them talking over each other to explain themselves, when he says, “I like you too!”
“Oh,” Daphne says, stopping abruptly. “You do?” She smiles at him.
“Yeah,” Pinocchio says. “I think I never really stopped.”
“That,” Daphne says, reaching a hand forward to grab at Pinocchio’s, “was downright romantic, you handsome sweetie.”
Pinocchio gives her a dopey, lovestruck smile. Then, after a long moment, he says, “So are we dating then?”
Daphne laughs, twines their fingers together. “Yes,” she says. “Yes, we are.”
#sisters grimm#the sisters grimm#daphne grimm#sisters grimm holiday exchange#sisters grimm secret santa
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Liar, Liar.
Beatles X Reader.
What if, for a day you could only tell the truth?
This proved to be difficult around the boys.
Caution: Language, suggestive comments
Enjoy, my cuties.
~~~
Being a Beatle was difficult as it was.
All the screaming crowds, people running straight towards you all the time, screaming so loud it made you deaf. Reporters on every corner, and cameras in your face 24/7.
Now, imagine being a girl in the mist of four boys with huge personalities.
That’s what you dealt with.
Every day.
To no avail, nor seeming end.
Sure, they payed you quite well, though, not as much as you felt you deserved.
~~~
Today started no different than any other day, you ate breakfast, hailed a cab, and drove off to the studio.
As you were about to pay the cab driver, the words slipped out of your mouth, like they had a mind of their own.
“Fuckin’ ridiculous, I could walk for free.”
“Pardon?” the man stared at you in shock.
“Er...I mean, You cost way too much...what?” you couldn’t believe yourself. Were those words actually escaping your lips? Were you dreaming?
“I...” he stuttered furiously “I-I’m a fair man! ‘ts not that much!”
“Yes it is!” you argued, even though you didn’t understand why. It was just a cab, for Christ’s sake. You even shook your head at your response, trying in some way to say what you were trying to say.
“Here...just take...” you shoved an extra few bills in the man’s hand “take all my money you wanker, Wait! I did mean to say that! WHAT?” you felt your face redden, and you rushed off before you could offend him further.
What the hell is going on?
“Hey, (y/n), would you mind..”
“Yes, I’d rather not.” you said rather harshly to the young assistant. Once again, you blushed furiously and clapped your hands over your mouth.
“Er...look, I don’t want to deal with you right now.” Why was this happening? “D’you understand?” you prayed that he could understand, you didn’t really mean it.
The man stared at you in shock.
“No, of course you don’t, you’re all amateur airheads....This CAN’T be happening right now.” you muttered, before rushing off again.
The poor kid, burst into tears and ran off.
“NO, I’M SORRY!” you called quickly, surprised you could even say that. But, it was too late, he had run off.
“(y/n), what are you doing here? You know, we are just setting up. You don’t have to be in the studio till 7:45.” chuckled a voice behind you. Your nearly jumped a foot off the ground.
It was Brian.
Great.
“Er...” don’t say it, don’t say it. But, of course, you did.
“I dunno...I guess I’m just kinda like watchin’, it’s amusin’ and all that rubbish, and I may... or may not... liketheboys more than I say I do, and I jus’ like to watch’em, tha’s all, perhaps.” You murmured quickly.
You prayed to God Brian didn’t hear what you had just said. Before he could say anything more, you added,
“Can you please not ask anymore questions? I’d rather not get into another awkward conversation, cause apparently I have to say everything on my mind.” you begged the man, your eyes pleading.
He seemed extremely bewildered at your uncanny behavior. You could gather he wanted to know why you were acting so odd. Thankfully, he refrained from doing so.
You silently thanked the Lord, you didn’t find anymore encounters while you were testing equipment. You feared one more slip up would end in utter catastrophe.
This day was far from over.
So, of course, you would be a clown in front of someone else.
A very honest clown.
~~~
“Great work, lads!” Brian chirped once you and the boys had finished the song.
“Yes, that was fantastic.” You added, as you stood up from the piano.
Brian turned to you, opening his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but closed it, thinking it was best he didn’t try.
When John opened the door, you knew you were in for it.
“Well, we’ll just be off, get some lunch. D’you care to join us Brian?”
Brian shook his head, smiling.
“No thanks, Lennon. Be back at a reasonable time, I’d like to finish this album sometime soon.”
Shit.
John turned to face you. “(y/n)? Care to join us?”
“Yeah, I would.” you replied almost too quickly.
It was strange, after all, you spend plenty of time with them. Lunch was when you would get with your girlfriends at the diner.
You had no idea what had gotten into you.
He seemed to catch on to this, and smirked.
“Hold on, was that a yes I heard? Eager, are we?”
“You have no idea.” you coughed trying to hide the response.
He chuckled at your words, taking them with a grain of salt, thankfully.
You rushed out the door, ducking your head to avoid anymore unnecessary conversation.
“Alright there, (y/n)?” Paul winked, and grinned as you and John joined the rest of the boys who were leaning on the doorframe.
“Not really.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“What’s up?”
Here we go.
Taking a deep breath, you ranted.
“Well, I was an ass to my cab driver, and Ben the new assistant, and I made a fool of myself in front of Brian. How’s your day been?” you smiled weakly.
Their eyebrows shot upwards.
“(y/n)? an ass? Never.” John gasped, placing a hand to his heart.
Your rolled your eyes at the melodramatic dork.
“Hey, I’m usually quite nice.”
John scoffed at that.
“Sure, yar’.”
“Hey, to other people! Besides you, you cheeky git.” you punched his arm slightly, making him wince in pain, which your rolled your eyes at.
“Come ed’! We gonna eat or not?”
Pushing open the door, you went out into the fresh air, as the four guys followed suit.
~~~
Sitting in between George and Paul was rather an uncomfortable experience. The fact that you were almost touching both of them, made you feel warm inside, and not in a way you wanted to think about.
“Oi, would ya move a bit?” you hissed, nudging Paul.
He turned to you, his lips dipping into a scowl.
“I’m sorry your majesty, am I making you uncomfortable? What can I do, to make you feel better?” he snarked.
“You are making me very nervous, and I’d like ya to move over.” your face flushed slightly.
Just for a minute, one fucking minute....could you say something that won’t end up incredibly humiliating?
His frown almost instantly turned into a cocky smirk.
“Ah, I see... so if I...” he scooted so your were hip to hip, and then wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “...did this, does it make you nervous?”
You pressed your lips together firmly, refusing to let anything peep out.
Don’t you DARE betray me now, I swear to God if you.....
“Very.”
That’s it. I’m cutting out my tongue.
It was then, then you noticed all the boys’ eyes on you. You lifted your menu, to cover the fact you looked like a ripe tomato.
John cleared his throat loudly.
“May I ask, wha’s goin’ on between you two?”
Paul shrugged.
“I don’t even know.”
He turned to you.
“Care ta explain?”
“Er....” you set the menu back down gently, and looked at the boys waiting expectantly.
“...I-I can’t lie.”
~~~
Part 2?
It ain’t over just yet!
Hope you enjoy this part!
Lemme know if ya want more of this one.
Hope y’all are doing well, during all of this craziness. I’m sorry I haven’t written in a long while, my creativity has been running dry, and hopefully, I’ll be able to finish some requests along the way, so be looking out for those as well.
Anyways, Peace and Love,
L.M.
#Beatles#paul mccartney x reader#john lennon x reader#george harrison x reader#ringo starr x reader#Paul McCartney#John Lennon#Ringo Starr#George Harrison#liar liar
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Storge (Familial Love)Pt.1- EraserMic x Student!Reader
This post includes: Mentions of loss of family, cursing, mentions of fiscal problems, mild violence and injury, a prominent homosexual relationship, and mentions and depictions of anxiety.
Original Request:
“Imagine living all by yourself. You’re a teenager that lost their parents years ago and refused to become a part of the foster system. So now you work and take care of your own apartment all while going to school at U.A. It was starting to take a real toll on you when Mr. Aizawa and Mr. Yamada approached you, like concerned parents. It could be written as platonic or romantic. (Not with the reader, I'm talking about Mic and Eraser)”
Authors Note:
As per usual I over wrote! This will be divided into two chapters. I went off on a bit of a tangent with this one but to be fair i wrote the first half over two months ago and the second half this week.
Word Count: 3.5k
(-15 degrees Celsius is 5 degrees Fahrenheit for my American bbs)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 1
It was bitterly cold out, the kind of cold that clung to your skin and left raw red noses and cheeks behind. It was a short walk from your apartment to the grocery store, it was all up hill and tonight, it was against the wind. The cold weather had come in fast; you’d lost your winter jacket last spring in a fire that took out half of your building. Annoyingly, it seemed that villains usually acted up in poorer neighborhoods, it was always the low-income apartment complexes that fell casualty to attacks. There was less of a hero presence, and while you had your provisional hero license you still weren’t allowed to patrol your neighborhood alone at night.
You hugged yourself against the biting wind, jewels of frozen rain whipping against your face. The dull golden glow of the grocery store doors was a blur through the tears forming in your eyes but none the less grew closer. The smell of sample soups and baking bread pierced through the onslaught of cold, a small pocket of warmth melting the air surrounding the doors. Two orange glowing heating lamps hummed on either side of the door, the awning keeping the rain from snuffing the lamps out.
The store was near deserted, not a surprise considering it was ten o’clock at night. In your general experience there were three types of people who shopped this late at night, shift workers, insomniacs and hungry stoners. You scurried off towards the baskets and faced the wall pulling the wad of bills out of your pocket, counting carefully. A lot of the first years at U.A. were in need of a tutor and you were in need of some cash, they passed their classes and their parents paid pretty well and as long as the session were between school hours and your serving job you could afford some actual produce every once and a while. You shoved the bills back in your pocket, there should be enough for the basics and something green.
You grabbed a basket and began your wander through the aisles, you knew what you were going to grab but it still felt nice to pretend you had options. You were rounding the corner to an aisle when a can pyramid of wet cat food collapsed into your legs, you stumbled back grabbing onto to a shelf of pickled herring to keep from toppling over.
“Fuck, sorry!” a familiar voice shouted. The ground tremored and a jar of herring shattered sloshing liquid down your arm. You looked up to see your English teacher, Mr.Yamada, one hand slapped over his mouth the other gripping a can of cat food.
“Fuck!” he cursed into his hand.
“I-it’s okay!” you laughed shaking the herring juice off your hand. Seeing your teacher in the wild felt weird on its own let alone seeing them demolish a cat food pyramid in a messy bun and exploding jars of herring. You couldn’t help but laugh, like really laugh. You dropped your basket and held your knees as you laughed. He joined in, the embarrassed blush draining from his face. The two of you laughed until a rather flustered older lady in a branded apron scurried down the aisle with a mop.
Mr. Yamada apologised profusely and promised to pay for the broken merchandise. The woman, however, lit up when she saw him and assured him that it wasn’t necessary. She must have been a listener of his radio show because eventually Mr. Yamada was signing the back of some crumpled receipt paper and she was smiling to herself as she walked back to the cash registers at the front of the store.
“Sh-should we clean up the mess for her then?” you asked looking at the abandoned mop.
“No, I should be cleaning up. You should be getting back to your parents, they’re probably wondering where you’ve been.” Mr. Yamada said scratching the back of his head and staring down at the felled cat food pyramid.
“Oh, uh-” you stuttered, it had been a while since someone in your life hadn’t known. It felt weird explaining your situation, you had gotten used to being on your own by now and the looks you got when you did were hard to bear. The looks that you used to read as sympathy had begun to wear on you as pity and with every new person that knew, there was one more person afraid to retraumatize you by bringing up anything family related.
“No, I’m all on my own, have been for a couple of years.” You sighed and sucked it up. He was a teacher, what was he going to go do? Teach you nicer? You knelt down next to the pile of cans and began a poor excuse of pyramid construction. “I-I can help!”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Mr. Yamada said, a dark look crossing his face ever so briefly. He quickly replaced his grimace with a somewhat theatrical smile. “Thank-you!”
He joined you on the floor stacking cans, but clearly missing the point of pyramid stacking. “You were late for class this morning, everything okay?”
You blinked and kept your eyes trained on the cans. You had been honest so far, might as well keep going. “Yeah, sorry. I got off work late last night and was just so tired I slept through my alarms. It won’t happen again.”
“Nah, that’s okay. It happens to the best of us.” He waved a hand over his head and smiled warmly. Eventually he gave up on helping the forming of the pyramid and decided instead to just hand you the cans that had fallen out of arms reach. You thought about telling him you could reach them with your quirk but couldn’t bring yourself to endure having him go back to stacking.
“You know, if the whole hero thing doesn’t work out you could be a professional cat food pyramid stacker.” he laughed as he admired your somewhat lopsided spire of cat food cans.
“Glad to know my homeroom teacher believes in me.” You grumbled melodramatically.
“It could be a fun double gimmick!” he exclaimed waving his hands about. “Like how I’m a radio host and hero, you could, ya know-”
“Stack cat food cans and be a hero?” you entertained the ridiculous thought.
“Yeah, I see big things coming from it. Lifetime supplies of cat food, billboards of you swarmed in cats…” Mr. Yamada continued listing possibilities varying in absurdity.
You looked down at the puddle of pickling solution and glass and sighed, toeing a large piece of glass with your shoe. You grabbed a box of cereal you had been planning to buy and ripped open the top taking out the bag of cereal and putting in back in your basket. Then you placed your hand on the bottom of the box and turned it upside-down so the opening was facing the floor and focused on pulling the glass up into the palm of your hand. Like a vacuum the shards of glass were sucked up into the box and you flipped it over before releasing your gravitational pull.
“Smart.” Mr. Yamada grinned and grabbed the mop to finish the job. “We better get the glass and mop back to her.”
You grabbed your things and walked to the front of the store with Mr. Yamada, he with the dripping mop and you with your jingling box of glass. When the cashier from earlier caught sight of you two she turned bright red and apologized for leaving you to clean up the mess. Mr. Yamada assured her that it was his fault in the first place and he should have anyways. You nodded along when she spared you a glance between lovestruck gazes at your teacher.
A young man in the same branded green apron, noticing his coworkers lack of productivity, opened the next till and waved you through. By the time you were done with you whole grocery order for the week Mr. Yamada was also stepping away from his till with his two cans of cat food and a receipt inked with a red heart. Mr. Yamada paused at the door to zip up his coat and put on his gloves.
You did the same and zipped up your layers of hoodies and tugged your beanie over your ears, bracing for the frigid walk home. “Where’s your coat?”
“Oh, I don’t- I need a new one. I’m a ten-minute walk away, I’ll be oaky.” You said stuffing your hands into your pockets. It had been a while since anyone had chastised you about dressing appropriately, you felt a little bit of warmth fill your chest.
“It’s freezing raining out, fine my ass!” Mr. Yamada exclaimed, exasperated. The tower of pop cases next to him swayed. He winced and continued quieter. “I’ll give you a ride.”
“Thanks, but I should be okay wa-”
“It’s fifteen below and raining ice, you’re not walking.” He said. Something told you that it was settled, there was no arguing. It’s not that you didn’t appreciate the generosity, it would be nice not to have to thaw yourself out when you got home, but he’d have to see where you lived and that left a pit of embarrassment forming in your stomach.
“Thank-you.” You said quietly. He nodded and clicked a button on his car keys, a black car down the block humming to life under the heavy hail. The two of you stood under the heat lamps in a silence you were sure felt more awkward for you than from him.
“So,” you tried. “what’s your cats name?”
He smiled and looked at the food. “She’s Mr.Aizawa’s cat really, her name is Sushi and she’s a dramatic little snob who only eats fancy wet food.”
“But is she cute?”
“Adorable.” He beamed. “Okay, let’s make a dash for it.”
The two of you took off through the hail and practically jumped into his car, which felt like an oven on your chilled limbs. The car itself was nearly immaculate aside from a neatly folded up leather jacket laying across the back seat and the light dusting of white cat fur clinging to the cloth seats.
“Okay, which way am I taking off?” Mr. Yamada asked throwing the cans of cat food int eh back seat.
“Just straight down the hill until you hit tenth street, then take a right.” He nodded a pulled out into the slick road. The low murmur of the radio and hum of the engine kept the silence at bay, it had been a while since you’d been in a car you realized. You’d spent most of your commute time walking or on a bus, neither of which were particularly warm nor comfortable.
“So, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but who do you live with?” Mr. Yamada asked after a long moment of quiet.
“No one, just me and my sad wilted ivy named Sho.” You looked at him through the corner of your eye, he kept his eyes on the road a sad smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “I was already fifteen when my parents died, and I had no interest in being part of someone else’s family. So, I’m all on my own. Provided that I can prove I can take care of myself and show up once a month to a meeting with my case worker until I turn eighteen.”
The smile slipped and he slowed to a stop at a red-light, the light painting his weary features crimson. “Why don’t you have a jacket?”
You chuckled to yourself, most people weren’t so brazen with their questions. “Last spring the apartment complex I lived in caught fire during a villain hero show down and half of my apartment got torched, my coat along with it.”
“Fuck.” He cursed under his breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be swearing so much around you. I-I’m just…fuck.”
The light turned green and he turned the corner. “Turn into the third complex down the road.”
“You’re case worker, are they the one signing all your permission slips?” Mr. Yamada’s eyes were still trained on the road.
“Yeah, Mr. Nezu arranged it. Is that a problem?” You felt your stomach drop, you couldn’t afford to miss any training.
“No, no. I just-” he sighed and pulled off to the side of the road. The two of you sat there in the storm, the radio rumbling about power outages and low temperatures, and the hail beating down on the roof of the car. “I’ve been your homeroom teacher for two years and I didn’t know about any of this.”
“I asked Nezu to keep it to himself, I didn’t really want people to know. Everything was so new and upside down in my life that I didn’t want everyone watching me go through it, you know?” You tried to explain, fiddling with the handle of one of your bags in your hands.
Mr. Yamada stared out at the road for a moment, drumming on his steering wheel before blinking back into himself. He turned to look at you for the first time since you’d gotten in the car. “Yeah, I get that. Y/n, I am your homeroom teacher and you know you can come to me if you need help with anything, right?”
For the second time that night he made your chest bloom with warmth. It had been so long since anyone had fussed over you that didn’t know what to do with yourself. You kept picking at the bag handle in your hands. You nodded shyly, looking down at your hands willing the warm tears forming in your eyes away. The car was thick with a heavy quiet, it felt like a blanket curling around you. The car began to move again, and Mr.Yamada pulled up in front of the door to your building.
“Okay, well have a good weekend?” he asked as he unlocked the doors.
“You too!” I nodded and gathered my bags. “Thanks, for the ride Mr.Yamada.”
You open the door and got out of the car; the ice hailed down around you as you ran towards the door.
* * *
The storm had left the world covered in frost and had kept most people from venturing out the next day. For a Saturday in a busy city like Musutafu everything was quiet, so quiet that your manager told you to leave early for the night. It wasn’t as cold as the previous night, thankfully the wind had died down in the morning and the sky remained clear all day. With the streets so empty it felt eerie like something had been lost with the coming of the storm. You hugged your layers of hoodies closer to your body and trudged on through the snow filled streets.
You had tutoring sessions tomorrow afternoon which usually meant a free lunch or snack courtesy of your “student’s” parents. That thought got you through the night as you curled up under your bed sheets still wearing a hoodie to bed, having gone to bed with a nothing but a cup of noodles and cheap coffee in you.
* * *
You had made it through the weekend, mercifully all three tutoring sessions had supplied some kind of snack or drink, one even a full lunch. It was a good day indeed, exam season meant longer sessions which turned out to mean more food and more money.
The world still felt muted under that layer of snow that persisted through the weekend. Shops were slower to open, and chimney smoke greyed out the already pale sky. On Sunday night it snowed again, this time light fluffy flakes that made the city look pretty under the setting sun as you walked to work.
When Monday rolled around it was felt like everyone was rolling out of bed from a long nap, fresh faced with sleep still in their eyes. The streets and sidewalks were slicked with ice and made your walk to school a hazard. You fell a few times, bruises forming on your knees and hip as you made it through the gates of U.A.
You shoved your hoodies and beanie into your locker with raw red fingers and tried to warm up your pink nose in your palm before entering the classroom.
“Good morning, Y/n.” Mr. Yamada greeted as he passed behind you. “How was your weekend?”
“Good, thanks!” you let go of your nose and started to fumble with your books. “I worked pretty much all weekend, but it kept me busy and out of the cold.”
“Glad to hear it.” He looked at you for a moment, something unsaid behind his eyes. But then it fell away and he was back to himself.
“You’ll still be on time if you beat me to the door.” He started to walk in dramatic slow-motion, miming fake panic as you shut your locker and walked past him and crossed the threshold.
“Man, can’t believe I lost that race.” He grumbled as he followed you in, a goofy grin on his face. “GOOD MORNING!”
The room shook with his voice and the day started as it normally does, with Mr. Yamada rattling off announcements periodically using his quirk to make sure the students were all awake. The day continued, your next period a practical class co-taught with Mr. Aizawa and All Might. It was a routine rescue drill using the snow to their advantage and making a blizzard obstacle course. You’re team completed your run, faster than usual. You were glowing with pride, high fiving your classmates when Mr. Aizawa waved you over to him. Your celebration was cut short, he was a tough teacher and rarely offered any sort of instruction if it wasn’t constructive criticism.
“Mr. Aizawa?” you asked.
“Y/n,” he looked forward, hands in his pockets. “I’d like to see you in my room at lunch today. I have something I want to discuss with you.”
“Something you can’t talk about here?” You were in shit, you knew it.
He looked at you and you must have looked scared because his eyes softened. “Don’t worry, it’s not a bad thing.”
“Oh, okay.” You still felt uneasy about whatever it was he need to talk to you about but at least he wasn’t going to ring your neck for something you didn’t even know you did. “I’ll see you then.”
He nodded and looked forward again.
“Good job on the course.” He murmured quietly as you walked back to your team.
***
Lunch hour came and as promised you made your way to Mr. Aizawa’s classroom, 1-A, while your friends all left for the cafeteria.
Inside, Mr. Aizawa slouched deeply in his chair snoring and Mr. Yamada was perched on the edge of his desk reading a paper with one hand and drinking a coffee with another. Mr. Yamada looked up and nearly jumped off the desk clamouring to his feet, waking Mr. Aizawa. Despite the fact that everyone knew they were together you had never really been able to picture them as a couple until now. They both stammered out greetings and swayed awkwardly, steeling themselves for something.
“You wanted to see me?” you asked, their apparent nervousness somewhat calming yours.
“Oh, yeah!” Mr. Yamada shouted in excitement. “I have- a thing!”
He turned to Mr. Aizawa who was already picking up a shopping bag from beside his desk. Mr. Yamada waved you closer and took the bag from Mr. Aizawa, thrusting it out towards you. “I-I didn’t want to singe you out in class, so I asked Sho- Mr. Aizawa to ask you here. Um, anyways I don’t know if it’ll fit, if it’s doesn’t I can get a bigger one. Or if you don’t like it we can maybe go looking for one you like better…”
You took the bag from his hands a lump forming in your throat as you peered inside. You saw a furry hood and black quilted nylon all bundled up and you felt tears fill your eyes. You only vaguely registered Mr. Yamada’s rambling as you reached in and pulled the jacket out to look at it. It was a simple black parka with a grey faux fur hood. The tears openly spilled down your face and you looked up at the pair who were silently watching you with grins plastered on their faces.
You didn’t know what to say, so you just looked at them with tears running down your face for what felt like minutes. When you final managed to get words out all you could muster was a “Th-thank you.”
“Mr. Aizawa picked it out, if you don’t like it.” Mr. Yamada replied awardly.
“I-I like it. I love it. Thank-you, guys.” You sniffed.
“Oh, well in that case I picked it out.” He amended, earning an elbow to the ribs from Mr. Aizawa.
Read Chapter 2 of Storge here!
#mha#mha x reader#bnha#bnhaxreader#myhero#my hero academia#readerinsert#readerinsertbnha#readerxerasermic#readerxaizawa#readerxpresentmic#my hero academia fanfiction
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Worst of You - JJK 05
You meet him under horrible circumstances but that doesn’t stop you from developing a very abnormal and completely unsolicited crush on your local hot police officer™. Too bad you have a bitch of a best friend, anxiety and an inability to learn from your mistakes which cripples your chances to be with the man of your literal dreams. Oh, and he has a lifetime’s worth of emotional baggage at 23.
Or
“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.”
“Cool, I’ll let everyone know that you’re moving in then.”
Genre: fluff, angst, comedy
Pairing: officer!jungkook X collegestudent!reader
Word count: 2,521
Note: If you don’t imagine that vine of the kid taking a sip of his mother alcohol when Y/N takes a sip of the wine then I will be very disappointed.
| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 |
It was 3:15 and Jungkook was nowhere to be seen. You decided to play a game to distract yourself but you (ironically) lost track of time prompting you to completely miss Jungkook’s arrival which prompted him to watch you curse at geometry dash for a good 7 minutes. He cleared his throat to get your attention which startled you, enough so to have you fumble your phone to the ground with a loud bang that had a couple of people looking your way.
“So, where’s my congratulations cake?” You asked while simultaneously checking your phone for blemishes. Fortunately, the screen wasn’t cracked, unlike your cool moments ago. “The best I can do is a muffin, take it or leave it.” You giggled in response but the sound mellowed down into a soft silence. It wasn’t awkward at first but you quickly got fidgety under his stare.
“So I needed at least 90% to maintain my 4.0 GPA but I got 89.9% and my professor refuses to round it. Can you arrest him for that?” The question may have sounded playful but you were in no way kidding. One more slip up and you could kiss your scholarship goodbye. “No. Y/N, 89% is great, don’t stress.” You nodded with a forced smile that Jungkook hadn’t noticed (or if he did, he didn’t comment on it) and for that you were grateful.
“Look, I know this is kind of sudden but I need a favour?” You hummed in reply, gesturing for him to continue. “Do you think you could baby sit my kids.” You dropped your phone again in shock and Jungkook facepalmed in shame. “My brother’s kids! Not mine, I don’t have kids.” He reached for your phone while you did and your hands touched for what could be described as a split second. You - being the melodramatic pre-teen that you are - had to suppress the urge to squeal at the very minor touch.
“How old are they?” You loved kids (aged 3-9) but babies scared you and you wanted absolutely nothing to do with them. “My niece is 7 and my nephew is 4.”
“I can babysit them but are you sure your brother won’t mind?” Jungkook winced at the mention of his brother. He was quiet for a moment before he started shaking his head disapprovingly. “We just won’t tell him.” His fear was almost comical and you would’ve laughed if you weren’t afraid the sound would break him.
“They’ll be in good hands. Trust me.” And he did, he just hoped his older brother would too. “So, when am I babysitting them?”
“This Friday, if that’s okay? They’re staying with me for the weekend but I have a work dinner scheduled that night so if you could occupy them from around 6-10 that’d be great.” You gave him a thumbs up in approval, mouth full of strawberry cheesecake. “Thank’s Y/N. I owe you.”
You didn’t mean to leave your roommate in the dark about the two children that would be occupying your dorm for a few hours but the entire ordeal slipped your mind. In fact, when Jungkook showed up on Friday, you had been completely unprepared. “Oh, hello…” You waved at the kids who moved to hide behind their uncles legs - an act you remember doing before you were too big to hide behind people. Once your eyes had trailed down though, your focus shifted to Jungkook’s gorgeous thighs and your thoughts took a sharp 180. He was clad in black trousers and a slightly unbuttoned dress shirt and to say you weren’t practically drooling over him would be a lie.
“Okay, Luna take care of your brother. Alan, don’t break anything.” He lectured them cutely and you wondered how he ever managed to yell at hardened criminals with that soft face but you’d seen him mad and he definitely wasn’t a force to be reckoned with. The children nodded dutifully and you couldn’t help but smile. They were so small and cute and you were quickly finding yourself becoming quite excited to hang out with them.
“They both haven’t had dinner yet but you can feed them anything, Luna is really well behaved but she can be a bit sassy. Alan has an issue with grabbing random things but if he gets too out of hand just give him his iPad in his bag, he’ll know what to do. Okay, thank you so much. I have to go, bye!” Jungkook spoke so fast that you almost questioned if he spoke at all. You turned to the kids with a sheepish smile and a simple question to break the tension. “So, who want’s to play Just Dance?”
After a night of G-rated video games, McDonald’s and a very self-indulgent amount of baby Yoda, both kids were finally asleep on your couch and Alex had just gotten home. “Hey, who are the kids?” She quietly set her keys down before walking to the kitchen to get a glass of water, her eyes trained on the mini people draped over your couch. “They’re kids I’m babysitting; for a friend.” She nodded absentmindedly and you assumed from her quiet demeanour that something was off. You decided to ignore it. “So, um, we have a dorm inspection in a month. You should probably clean your room.” She waved you off with a nod and a flick of the wrist while she made her way to her room. You sighed and looked at the sleeping kids. “She’s not going to clean her room is she?” You whispered to particularly no one.
It was around 11pm when Jungkook eventually showed up. He scooped both of the sleeping kids into his arms and bid you farewell without a second to spare. The apartment suddenly felt empty and a nagging headache began to become apparent.
You let yourself fall back onto the couch with a huff, this was the life you were destined for. You were everyone’s second choice. The back-up plan, the plan B. You were a constant in a world that was continuously changing and yet you weren’t even a good one. You couldn’t dwell over your uselessness for long though. You had a paper to write and feelings for Jungkook that you needed to get over.
Unfortunately for you, Alex was upset and when Alex is upset she does some pretty reckless things. Like, calling her ex-boyfriend, for example who is now not so quietly comforting her in the only way he knew how. The Jimin way that always - without fail - keeps you awake for far longer than you anticipated.
You walked into your morning class the following day with a giant cup of coffee and a pair of sunglasses to hide the pain that glowed in your baggy eyes. You couldn’t keep the glasses on during the class though and just as you took them off, Jimin rushed to make a snarky comment.
“You look like death today.”
“I blame your high pitched moaning, daddy.” Jimin might’ve been aroused by your use of his (not-so) secret kink but you looked like you wanted him dead and the venom dripping from your voice proved it. “At least I’m getting laid.” You rolled your eyes and decided to not press further. The two of you could argue till the end of time and in that moment you just needed to focus until the end of the class.
After 96 dreadful minutes of your human anatomy teacher’s droning, you managed to make it out of the class alive but not without catching the attention of William who was now chasing you down no matter how hard you avoided his gaze. “Hey, Y/N.” You smiled forcefully and hoped that your exhausted exterior didn’t come off as bitchy - but that was a stretch. “The officer told me that the attacker had no motive for doing what they did, so don’t worry, they’re not out for you or anything.” William smiled, laughing a little at the joke you seriously didn’t mean to crack. Did you even make a joke? You needed sleep, and fast.
The rest of the day went pretty much the same. You continued plaguing your college campus like a cast member of the walking dead with barely any purpose and motivation. Because the world hated you, you didn’t get home until 6pm and your exhaustion pretty much decided you’d be skipping lunch and dinner for whatever semblance of sleep you could get.
You were in the midst of brushing your teeth through the dull ache of your tiredness (because dental hygiene is important, you’re not scared of the dentist), when there was a knock on your door. You assumed it was Alex who had a history for forgetting her keys but when you opened the door, clad in iron man themed pyjamas, you were met with Jungkook who was visibly, not Alex.
You might’ve asked something like why he was here or how he got through the building door but your toothbrush was still in your mouth and the situation was getting awkward. “Get dressed, I’m taking you to dinner.” You gave him a weird look as you held your hand out to ask him to wait. You rushed to the bathroom to finish brushing your teeth before returning to the door which Jungkook was leaning on to tell him, “but I brushed my teeth.”
Jungkook scoffed at your excuse with both astonishment and annoyance. “It’s 6pm.” He retorted while his eyes skimmed your very small dorm to sit on your even smaller chair. “I wasn’t planning on eating!” He waved you off before taking out his phone. “Go get dressed so I can repay you for the babysitting.” You gave him a small glare, although you were hungry, you were more tired and all you wanted to do was sleep. “Couldn’t you have just given me $20 like any other person?” Jungkook doesn’t move his stare off his phone while he replies. “Where’s the fun in that? Now go get changed.”
You stuck your tongue out at him (even though you knew he couldn’t see it) before stomping off to your room to change into something more appropriate. Judging by Jungkook’s choice of fancy attire, this was probably going to be some fancy restaurant where you couldn’t pronounce anything and everything cost more than your rent so you decided to wear a light pink dress. You didn’t spend that long getting ready, in fact 90% of the time you were trying to fit all of your necessities into a tiny (impractical) purse because it was the fanciest thing you owned.
“You seriously wore a dress with sneakers?” Sure, expecting a compliment or a simple wow, Y/N may have been a little delusional but you certainly were not expecting him to insult your precious pink Fila disruptors. You didn’t reply as you trudged behind him with a scowl on your face.
“Where are we going, anyway?” You asked with a voice laced with annoyance as you stepped into his terrifyingly fancy car. You didn’t even want to know how much that thing costs to insure. He didn’t answer your question which you found pretty rude but the glare on his face stifled any complaint you were going to make. You watched Jungkook drive which would’ve been a lot more innocent if he wasn’t smirking every 3 minutes and annoying you even more.
The entire drive was composed of awkward silence and unanswered questions before he eventually he pulled into bright driveway before getting out handing his keys to the man who ran the valet service.
Wait, valet service?
“This looks expensive, honestly I would’ve been fine with the $20.” You whispered to Jungkook before you walked inside but all he did was chuckle. “Y/N, it’s fine, it’s just a restaurant.” That, was a blatant lie. It was one of the most renowned Italian restaurants in New York and it was incredibly hard to get into but of course you didn’t know that so you were up for a pleasant surprise once you opened the menu.
“Oh shit, this is no-price-on-the-menu fancy.” You whispered to no one in particular but Jungkook picked up on the incoherent sound. “What?”
“Nothing!” You quickly squeaked out. You were not going to let a simple menu intimidate you. Unfortunately, the entire thing was in Italian and you failed all the language classes that you took in high school.
“Order whatever you want, yeah?” Jungkook was hoping you weren’t intimidated by the prices but unbeknownst to him, that was the last of your concerns. You nodded slowly; too focused on trying to comprehend what the menu said. “You know what, I’ll just get whatever you get.” Jungkook looked at you with masked concern that you wouldn’t have been able to notice if not for his revealing eyes. “Why? Do you not like Italian?”
“No, it’s not that. I just don’t know what’s good here so, I trust you.” You lied straight through your teeth with a cunning smile that even had you fooled. Jungkook nodded and didn’t say much more. “Well, I usually get the steak.” You could feel the panic settling in. You hated steak - with a passion.
“I lied, I don’t know how to read this menu at all.” You blurted out before he could call the waiter and braced yourself for his degrading laugh. He did laugh but you were thankful for his guidance after. He explained pretty much the entire menu to you before you decided on getting some kind of pasta.
After Jungkook had ordered, (you’d rather stay out ordering food unless it’s completely necessary) another waiter followed quickly after and asked if you wanted any wine. Jungkook nodded but the waiter assumed it was for the both of you so he poured you a glass as well. You watched Jungkook’s eyes widen in fear when he noticed but before he could say anything the waiter was on his way. You looked at the glass with obvious fascination that Jungkook was positive on shutting down.
“Y/N if you drink that I will literally arrest you right here."
“Yikes, okay, I’m sorry.” Your apology was sarcastic but he relaxed nonetheless; a mistake, on his part, because you were immediately picking up the glass to take a sip anyway. “Y/N!” You didn’t hear Jungkook berating you over the deafening scream of your tongue as the disgusting liquid went down your throat. “That was horrible, how can you drink that?” You spoke through your coughing fit while Jungkook carefully removed the glass from your grasp, calling a waiter over to take it away and bring back a coke instead. “You’re an idiot and now a convicted felon.”
You gave him a sheepish smile in return. “I was curious…” He shook his head in disapproval but didn’t press further; he found it hard to stay angry at you. You spent the rest of the night trying to make him laugh with your really (subjectively) funny dad jokes. He didn’t laugh but you blamed it on his dead sense of humour which Jungkook thought was a reasonable excuse.
“Y/N.” You cocked your head up to look at him with a frustrated expression. Who knew pasta was so hard to eat? “What?” You tried to say though it came out muffled as you tried to eat. “It’s sad watching you eat.”
“It’s not my fault the pasta is so slippery!” He grabbed the fork out of your hand and effortlessly spun the pasta around your fork. You scoffed in astonishment but Jungkook decided to ignore your frustration. “Open.” You felt like a toddler, Jungkook (a grown man) was feeding you (an allegedly grown woman) pasta because you couldn’t figure out how the mechanism worked.
After you finished eating, the room was engulfed with an awkward silence. The distant voices and the clatter of cutlery filled the void although it wasn’t nearly enough. “So, you up for dessert?” You shook your head quickly, you were so exhausted you could’ve sleep right on the uncomfortable chair. “I’m too full.” Jungkook nodded and asked a waiter for the bill. You curiously tried to take a peek at the total but Jungkook snatched the bill towards him before you had the chance. “Think of it as payment for taking care of my niece and nephew.” It seemed like a little too much for just babysitting but you knew there was no point in arguing with him.
The entire car ride was quiet. You were too busy trying to conjure up the courage to ask Jungkook out (properly) and Jungkook was too busy trying not to crash the car. The moment his car was in front of your building, you blurted out the question before you could stop yourself. “Jungkook, can I ask you a question?” He was a taken aback by the abrupt question but he nodded nonetheless.
“I um… I like you, a lot and I just don’t want to get my hopes up and expect anything from you because that’s unfair and of course I don’t expect anything now I just…” You trailed off once you realised you had been rambling but Jungkook didn’t seem to notice. His expression seemed entirely indifferent and you wondered if you had even confessed at all.
The silence was getting incredibly uncomfortable so you tried to diffuse the situation you had unwillingly created. “It’s fine if you don’t! It’s just a crush. I’ll get over it eventually so really-” Halfway through your rambling, Jungkook crashed his lips onto yours and you froze. Now, you’ve been kissed before, but never like this and the lack of warning shocked you enough to have you accidentally bite the poor man’s lip. “Ow. What the fuck Y/N?” You began apologising profusely while he held his lip and though the mood was definitely ruined, he couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’m sorry! Are you okay?"
“I’m fine. Goodnight Y/N.” You were about to leave the car before you quickly turned around and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then you hurriedly screamed ‘thank you’ and sprinted into your dorm building. Jungkook drove away with his heart heavy and his mind racing. He may have just ruined his entire plan.You on the other hand just realised you never got an answer.
#jungkook#jungkook imagine#jungkook fic#jungkook smut#jungkook x you#jungkook x reader#bts imagines#bts scenarios#bts reactions#bts fic#bts
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Stay Golden Sunday: Big Daddy
Blanche’s Southern gentleman father visits with unusual news. Sophia curses a neighbor.
Picture It...
Sophia and Dorothy meet in the kitchen the morning after a big storm. Sophia is cranky because Rose woke her up, afraid and wanting comfort. All four Girls meet in the living room, where Blanche excitedly explains that her father, who she calls Big Daddy (who everyone calls Big Daddy, in fact), is coming for a visit. She excitedly reminisces about how beloved he was by her community growing up, getting caught in her remembrances of her saccharine Southern upbringing (which Dorothy finds ridiculous). Blanche hurries out to go get gifts for him.
Rose goes out to the lanai, and calls out for Sophia and Dorothy. They find that the storm has knocked a tree down on to their lanai furniture. Their next-door neighbor, Mr. Barton enters and notices the tree. When Rose says it’s fortunate his tree didn’t fall on his house instead, he takes exception to it being “his.” He refuses to move the tree despite Mrs. Barton’s attempts to smooth over the situation. When he makes a derisive remark about “you Italians” to Dorothy and Sophia, the latter gives him the Evil Eye. He’s now cursed until he moves the tree. Mr. Barton scoffs and leaves with his wife.
DOROTHY: Oh Ma, why’d you do that? You just made matters worse with that ridiculous curse.
SOPHIA: Ridiculous? The curse works. Believe me. I’ve used it before.
DOROTHY: Oh, when?
SOPHIA: Baltimore Colts, New York Jets, 1969. Draw your own conclusions.
The next day, Dorothy says she’s confirmed via their property map that the tree definitely belongs to Mr. Barton and he has to haul it away, though Sophia still things the curse will do the trick. Blanche emerges in a mint-colored Southern Belle gown, but when she answers the door, it’s Mr. Barton. He’s convinced Sophia slashed his tires, and refuses to move the tree. Dorothy opens the door in a fury after Mr. Barton storms out, only to see Big Daddy Hollingsworth, in a Colonel Sanders suit with a ten-gallon hat on.
Blanche excitedly introduces everyone to her father. Big Daddy pays great compliments to Rose, who he compares to Dinah Shore (which... yeah, I can see it); and to Sophia, who he praises for her stunning, classical “Eye-talian” beauty. (Sophia: “You need boots to listen to this guy.”) He tells Blanche he has a surprise for her: He’ll be singing at a club the next night. Blanche is stunned, and asks why he’d do that, and he says singing is his “calling.” After he leaves, Blanche worries at his apparently out-of-character behavior, and Dorothy encourages her to talk to him instead of jumping to conclusions.
BLANCHE: I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical explanation for why my daddy’s lost the stuffing out of his comforter.
Big Daddy returns that night, and Blanche is waiting up to talk to him. He effuses about how much he loves singing, and plays her one of his own compositions. It’s a genuinely terrible song that leaves Blanche cringing. When he finishes, she tells him this sudden career change concerns her, and tells him to go home and rest. He reveals that he sold their family home to fund his singing career, and Blanche explodes, forbidding him from continuing with his schemes. Big Daddy takes exception, and yells back until the other Girls come in. He apologizes to them and leaves the house.
Blanche is still upset and tells the Girls her father’s really gone off the deep end, selling the property he spent his lifetime building. As the Girls drift into the kitchen, Blanche is having trouble reconciling that her father is no longer the pillar he once was and has reached an age where they need to start thinking about his mental health. Dorothy and Rose comfort her, with Rose reminiscing about a time her father pulled a tuna-shaped parade float up a hill singlehandedly while dressed as a jar of mayonnaise. Blanche says her dad’s always been there to take care of her, and now she’ll have do the same for him.
BIG DADDY: You know, if there was some rain coming down, and a soft train whistle in the distance, this moment would have the makings of a first-rate country song.
The next night, Blanche, Rose, and Dorothy are off to see Big Daddy’s show at the Sagebrush Club -- Sophia declines when invited. Mr. and Mrs. Barton arrive, and Mr. Barton is a mess, asking to see “the witch.” He begs Sophia on his knees to remove the Curse, as he’s suffered several other inexplicable misfortunes. Sophia agrees when he promises to remove the tree, and he quickly hurries out. Mrs. Barton stays behind to apologize to the Girls and reveals that she did all the “curse” work to get her husband to act right.
The Girls arrive at the rather seedy Sagebrush Club, where Blanche pretends not to know every man present or that there’s a mechanical bull in the backroom. She asks a waiter about their reservations, and he reveals management canceled Big Daddy’s second show after the first show. Blanche goes backstage to comfort her father. A very stereotypical cowboy named Rusty attempts to put the moves on Dorothy and Rose, but Dorothy quickly puts the smackdown on him.
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Blanche enters Big Daddy’s dressing room and tells him how sorry he is that his show was canceled. Big Daddy says he’s just going to have to try again. Blanche asks him why he’s going to continue when he’s no good. He tells her he knows he’s no good, and opens up to her about the real reason he wants to try this: He’d always wanted to have a big adventure, but settled down with Blanche’s mother. Now he wants to try something new, something adventurous. Blanche apologizes for not hearing him out, and sings the chorus of his song with him.
“Excuse me, Rose, but have I given you any indication at all that I care?”
Both the A- and B-plots this week are excellent, and the characters all have some great zingers. Big Daddy, Blanche’s very Southern father, makes his first appearance on the show, and after being talked up by Blanche both in this episode and in previous episodes, he doesn’t disappoint. He honestly wouldn’t look out of place as a one-off character on Dallas.
I find it interesting that both Rose and Blanche have already had episodes where they have to learn how to interact with their parents as adults. Dorothy and Sophia are already on that level, so I suppose it makes sense that those two need to learn how to do the same thing. Outside of Sophia, parents don’t play as big a role in this show as children do, which makes sense considering the Girls are grandparents themselves -- Big Daddy is the only one who will play any kind of recurring role.
BLANCHE: Now listen girls, my father is an old-time Southern aristocrat, who is used to fine manners and gentility. So please, please, please be on your best behavior.
*they all look at Sophia*
SOPHIA: Why’s everyone looking at me?!
The A-plot’s a bit melodramatic, but it’s mitigated by the scene where Big Daddy tries to sing. It’s such an hilariously terrible performance, but I think the funniest part actually comes from the audience. After he strums the final note on his guitar, there’s a beat for the audience reaction, and you can hear one or two members hesitantly start to clap, as if they’re not sure if that’s the expected reaction, but other than that it’s silence until Blanche says her line.
This is one of the final roles of character actor Murray Hamilton. It’s not often I get to say an actor appeared on both of my favorite older TV shows: Golden Girls and Perry Mason. If only he’d also appeared on I Love Lucy, then I’d get the hat trick -- I’m still looking for the actor who was on all three. Hamilton died just four months after the episode aired, which is presumably why the character was recast when he appears in a later episode. He’s very convincing as Blanche’s gentlemanly father, even though he was only 10 years older than Rue McClanahan. Though it is a bit disconcerting that Blanche’s father looks younger than some of the men she’s dated.
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No one says how old Big Daddy is, but presumably since Blanche is in her 50s (she wouldn’t admit that on pain of death, but come on, she has a 16-year-old grandson), he’s got to be in his late 70s, early 80s. While it might be a bit late to launch a career as a country-western singer (who does Beatle medleys for some reason), the message that you’re never too old to try new things and your mental health should not be called into question for it is still a good one.
That said, the part that worries me is when he tells Blanche, almost as an afterthought, that he’s sold his family estate to fund his new venture. Since that’s a property that presumably his four children would have grown up on and that they’re now not going to inherit, it’s actually kind of concerning that he just sold it without making any of them aware of it. I know I got on Kirsten back in the episode about Rose’s will for acting entitled to her mother’s money and getting mad that Rose would have spent it, and I still stand by that.
SOPHIA: Play it safe. Stick with the curse.
DOROTHY: Ma, I’ve stayed with you all these years.
*Sophia raises her hand to administer the Evil Eye again*
But the difference here being Blanche is more upset that he would do something so impulsive after having spent so much of his life building up that estate -- and I’m with her on that, not because it points to a potential health problem, but because it’s reckless and foolish. And it doesn’t really get resolved. Blanche just agrees to support her father and doesn’t seem to address the fact that he’s now effectively homeless.
One of the funniest parts of the episode is at the beginning, when Blanche is reminiscing about her Southern upbringing and makes it sound like she grew up 100 years in the past -- what with all the sipping mint juleps under an old magnolia and exchanging prize-winning pecan pie recipes. That’s funny enough, but what makes it funnier is that Dorothy and Sophia have about as much patience as you’d expect two Brooklyn women to have for such gauzy nonsense:
DOROTHY: Tell me Blanche, during any of this, would the farmhands suddenly break into a chorus of “Dem Old Cotton Fields Back Home?”
...
BLANCHE: I want him to feel right at home.
SOPHIA: Then get the Millers across the street to tar and feather their lawn jockey.
The B-plot is what really makes this episode great. While Blanche and her father working out their issues is engaging enough, but Sophia steals the show when she goes to war with Mr. Barton. The Evil Eye she directs his way is nothing short of epic. I also enjoy that Dorothy is just as invested in it as her mother is, getting equally offended at being referred to as “You Italians,” she tries to get Mr. Barton to back down through the power of civic justice and a property map, and when all else fails, echoes her mother calling him “Mouth,” albeit accidentally to Big Daddy.
Also, bravo to this show for fleshing out Mrs. Barton. She appears in two scenes and at first appears to do nothing but try ineffectively to correct her jerk husband. Then comes the revelation that she was actually responsible for all the misfortunes that befell him -- I admire her ingenuity, because that’s the only way a stubborn bastard like her husband would ever apologize to his neighbors, despite clearly being in the wrong.
DOROTHY: Blanche, who do we see about our table?
BLANCHE: Oh I don’t know. This is the first time I’ve ever been here.
RUSTY: Well howdy Blanche!
COWBOY: Howdy Blanche. Ladies.
BLANCHE: No, I’m wrong. I think the museum did have its Christmas party here.
By the way, is it just me, or is there a lot of interest in Sophia’s Italian-ness this episode? Not only is her subplot about the Sicilian evil eye (when I was a kid, I thought that was made up -- I’m obviously not even remotely Italian), but Mr. Barton uses it as an insult, and then Big Daddy compliments her “Eye-talian” beauty. Sophia’s Sicilian flavor is one of my favorite things about her, and this episode has some of her best moments.
Out of all the characters, Rose is the one who ends up getting short shrift this week. I’m noticing something from this first season: Whenever there’s an episode where one Girl is left out of the bulk of the story, the writers compensate by giving her a big monologue in roughly the middle of the episode, usually in the kitchen over cheesecake. Once you notice the pattern, it’s impossible to un-notice it -- several episodes in this first season alone have followed this pattern.
ROSE: What on earth do you do with a mechanical bull?
DOROTHY: Introduce him to a mechanical cow, Rose.
Still, if Betty White only gets a handful of lines and one monologue this week, she makes full use of them, and it’s especially cute that, unlike Dorothy and Sophia, she seems to enjoy the very Southern-ness that Blanche and her father exude, saying “It’s like being in Gone with the Wind!”
Episode rating: 🍰🍰🍰🍰 (four cheesecake slices out of five)
Favorite part of the episode:
The entire curse B-plot, especially the lines: “I can’t sleep! I can’t eat!” “You can’t sit.”
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#golden girls#stay golden#picture it#stay golden sunday#blanche devereaux#sophia petrillo#rose nylund#dorothy zbornak#s01e24#big daddy
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Dear Charlie,
I'm in total crisis mode, and I guess you need some context for it to make sense. It's my sister's birthday, and I got our friends to come over for a day or two of hanging out. Normally, this is hard to do because Jack works all the time (and his mother is still very controlling) and Nikki can't find someone to watch her puppy. But, the stars aligned for this. Jack managed to swing sleeping over last night and tonight, and Nikki can come over tonight too.
The other bit of context is that I have a girlfriend now. I have a lot of feelings about it, and I can’t even begin to explain them, but just know that it’s not serious and the newness of it all is freaking me out to the point that I kind of feel like calling the whole thing off so I don’t have to get hurt. That’s a lot to throw at you, and maybe I’ll write a letter about her in the future, but not right now. Right now, I have a bigger problem.
The last bit of context that you need, that you kind of already know, is that I used to have feelings for Jack. I wrote to you years ago, when I was a freshman in college and using a different pen name, about how I loved him, how it broke my heart that he didn’t feel the same. My problem — the crisis — is that I don’t know if those feelings ever went away.
I need to start from the beginning.
I don’t remember exactly how it started. One day, Jack and I were in class together, and something made us laugh. Who knows what it was anymore? It’s not important. The point is that I knew, right then, that I loved him. We were laughing and I was looking at him, and I fell totally, completely silent while the sound still bloomed around me. I just looked at him and felt so scared, because I realized how I felt about him and didn’t know what to do.
I sat with that feeling for months, maybe more than a year if the dates of my old letters are anything to go off of. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship by confessing anything, and he had his own shit to deal with, so I refused to complicate things any further. The problem came when I went to a Halloween party on campus. It was something small, just five or six of us crammed into someone’s dorm, but I’d downed a good seven shots of blue raspberry vodka in the span of a few hours. I didn’t feel drunk, or even tipsy, but I guess it’d given me the courage (or impaired my thinking enough) to tell him how I felt. He was two hours away, and it was two in the morning. I was walking back to my building and the sky was so dark, the air so crisp. I can remember the blue light of my screen illuminating my face while I poured my heart out to him. Then, once I was back in my bed, I shut my phone off so I couldn’t see his reaction.
He was nice about it — he’s always nice — and said that he didn’t feel the same way, but that a possible relationship in the future wasn’t off the table. I remember being mad at him for that. I mean, not at first. Because, at first, all I could focus on was the fact that he said he could see us being together in the future. That giddiness lasted for a day or two, maybe longer, and then the frustration set in. The letters are still up, they’re really melodramatic to me, but I still think the emotions ring true. I was mad because he made me feel like there was hope, and I was mad because it would’ve been easier to move on if he’d just said it was never gonna happen. I wanted to move on, Charlie. Loving him hurt so bad, because I knew it’d never be requited, and I wished that I could’ve loved someone else. So, I was mad.
We kept talking, of course. It didn’t really make things awkward. At least, he never acted like it. Who’s to say how he actually felt? Maybe being around me was like pulling teeth. I don’t know. I won't ask. I sent more letters about him, what I wanted to say and why I could never bring myself to do it. After months of wildly swinging back and forth between pessimism and hope, Nikki’d had enough. She knew about the whole thing, and she was upset that Jack led me on about a potential future relationship (even though he hadn’t meant to). She made him settle things, and I wish I could remember exactly what he said. I want to say that he drew a line in the sand and told me that it wasn’t gonna happen, but I know I’m wrong. Regardless, he made it clear that I needed to move on. So, I did. It took a while, but, eventually, I was so far removed from any romantic feelings towards him that looking back on my old letters made me feel ridiculous, that I was wondering if it was actually love at all. I think it was. I look back on it and I still think it was. In some ways, it was the only time I ever truly loved someone like that.
The problem came last night. We were talking about a new show that I’ve been watching with him. It felt similar to the time I realized I loved him. There was this moment of silence — comfortable, easy silence — and I wanted him to lean in and kiss me. It felt like I got suckerpunched in the chest. I haven’t felt like that in years. It’s been two fucking years, Charlie, and I thought those feelings were gone.
I think the thing that scares me most is the thought that came after. I realized the thing that’d come to mind in the moment, that I wanted him to close the space between us and kiss me, that I wanted him to crawl into my bed and hold me while we slept. I realized it, and nothing about it felt wrong. It should feel wrong. I just wanted it so desperately, so much, that I entertained the idea and wondered what would happen if he actually did those things.
Then, I was scared. I was just absolutely horrified, and I still am. What if these feelings never went away? What if I just fooled myself into thinking I was over him? What if these feelings never disappear? What if I’ll always love him in some latent, repressed way? I wanted to text Nikki and ask for her help, but it was late and I felt embarrassed about telling her how something she thinks — I thought — we settled years ago. I’m glad I didn’t text her, because I think I would’ve rambled and made no sense, but I still want her advice. Maybe I’ll ask her for it once these next few days have passed.
I don’t know what to do, okay? I’m overwhelmed and I can’t stop thinking about it. I feel guilty, because I shouldn’t even be having thoughts like that. He’s my best friend, he has feelings for someone else, and I have a fucking girlfriend for fuck’s sake. I know that the fact I might still have feelings for him says enough about my relationship and where it’s headed. I think I’ll talk to my therapist before making any huge decisions like breaking up with her. What if this is just some weird, freak thing and I never think about Jack in that way again? What if I was just delirious and excited?
Sometimes, I’m scared I can’t tell the difference between platonic and romantic love. I know that I can tell the difference, but I still worry about it. I’ve fallen for a lot of my friends. I know you know that already. You’ve heard about Reise and Gabe, you haven’t heard about Maggie but I don’t even consider that a real relationship (not that I ever had a relationship with Reise or Gabe, nor would I say I actually loved them so much as had a crush on them). On some level, I think a lot of people fall for their best friends. I’ve heard tons of stories like that, of people who were childhood or college best friends that ended up getting married. On another level, I’m not sure if it’s normal. Maybe I’m overthinking it, but it feels like there might be a pattern. Maybe I like the appeal of already knowing someone and them knowing me before I fall in love with them. Though, I have to say, I definitely don’t think I’m in the minority on that one.
My biggest problem, among the many I have with this situation, is regarding my girlfriend. It’s really not fair to compare her to Jack, because they’re wildly different, but I can’t really help thinking about it. Lani is amazing. We matched on Bumble in December, spent months talking with a few breaks dispersed between, and officially got together a little more than two weeks ago. It’s not in any way serious, either. We’ve only managed to meet up in person the one time, and it was really awkward because we were both nervous. Lately, we haven’t been talking much because she’s been really depressed. I get it, because that’s why some of the months we were talking had breaks, because one of us was struggling with our mental health and couldn’t manage to communicate with anybody. I really like her. The group chat likes her too, she fits in well with my friends. She has so much in common with me too, sometimes it’s kind of hilarious.
I feel horrible about this next part.
A few days after we made things official, I started getting the urge to bail. It’s not because I don’t like her, because I do. It’s not because I don’t want a relationship, because (I think) I do. I’ve been trying to figure it out with my therapist. When I explain it to her, it usually goes like this: we don’t know each other super well yet, I’m still not sure if we have chemistry, and it’d be so much easier to not be in a relationship with anybody. It sounds really awful when I say it, I just mean that taking care of myself is something that I’m finally getting better at, and I don’t know if I’m capable of adding responsibility for another person’s feelings to the mix. Not that I’d even be responsible for her feelings. On some level, yeah, I would be, but not entirely.
There’s been this little voice in the back of my head that tells me to ruin everything and tell her I just want to be friends. I’ve gotten good at ignoring it, because I’m pretty sure it’s just my urge to self-sabotage any good thing that happens to me. And, maybe, that’s what this whole thing with Jack is about. Maybe my brain wants a reason to call things off with Lani, so it recycled old feelings with Jack to throw me off. I don’t think that’s it, but it’s a potential theory.
My therapist says that I don’t like change and I don’t want to get hurt. I know she’s right. I really fucking hate change, that’s not new for me. I don’t even like buying new clothes because it’d disturb the rotation of outfits I already wear (that being the same three t-shirts and five pairs of jeans). This is a really big change, alright? I admit that. I haven’t dated anyone in seven fucking years and the last time I had sex...well, I already told you the situation surrounding that in my last letter. As for getting hurt, I don’t want that either. Nobody wants that. I think the bigger issue is not wanting to be vulnerable. I don’t know if I like the idea of letting Lani get to know me in the ways my friends know me already. It took years to get to that point and I don’t like opening up about myself. That’s funny to me, because I’m so open with them now, but it’s also a little sad.
The problem is, I think I have to compare Jack and Lani. They’re so different, and it still isn’t fair, but it kind of puts a lot into perspective. Just to get it out of the way: gender doesn’t matter to me, it never mattered to me, and I don’t know if I ever mentioned that to you, but I’m saying it now (surprise!). This isn’t some thing about my sexuality being repressed and me feeling like I have to engage in compulsory heterosexuality by being with a woman, because I truly couldn’t give less of a shit about that. I think this might be about potential.
Right now, my relationship with Lani is new and uncharted territory. Things are awkward and I sometimes feel like I’m walking on eggshells to avoid screwing things up. It’s like that phase of a high school relationship where you’re both still trying to impress each other out of fear they’ll lose interest in you for being yourself. It’s fucking exhausting, and I don’t know how long we’ll be in that phase. She’s also beautiful. She’s really beautiful, and I’m attracted to her, but not in that way yet. The thing is, I don’t know if there will even be a yet, because I can’t picture it. What if I just never end up feeling that way about her? I worry about that a lot, and I’m not sure how much of that is from a lack of truly knowing each other or from what happened to me. I told her, pretty quickly after we made things official, that it was possible I’d never be able to have sex with someone again. She doesn’t care, of course. It’s not some dealbreaker for her. She understood my reasoning behind it after I explained and she wants to take things slow anyway, so sex wouldn’t even be on our horizon for a while regardless of my complicated relationship with it.
I keep circling back, but the issue — the crisis again — comes up when I compare her to Jack. We know each other so well. I’d dare to say, right now, that he probably knows me better than anybody (besides my sister or my cousin, Bella). I never have to worry about him not liking me when I act like myself and I never have to worry about not liking him when he acts like himself. We’ve been friends for so long that we’re never anything but ourselves, and that’s a really freeing feeling. I know it’s just because I’ve known him longer, so it isn’t fair to her to give him that credit, but it makes me feel less anxious, less tired, and I never felt like I had to censor myself with him, even when we just started talking.
Jack is beautiful too. I know he doesn’t feel that way, but everyone thinks it, especially now. He grew his hair out, and it kind of surprised everyone that he has curls. It really suits him, but I’m getting distracted. It makes me embarrassed to say this, but I have felt that way about him before. When I was in the full swing of it, when I used to write you letters, I actually had thoughts like that about him. Those thoughts weren’t all it was, but they came to be a part of it.
He knows what happened to me. He knows all of it. I’d broken down one night and started crying, telling him that I thought I’d been sexually assaulted and couldn’t remember all of the details. He was one of the main people, besides Reise or Bella, who helped me come to terms with it. It’s not a subject that comes up a lot, obviously, but it makes me feel better that I never have to explain. Something horrible happened and now my mind is stained because of it, and he understands.
So, what I’m about to say is really big, and it makes me feel like I’m rotten from the inside out — like I’m a stupid, heinous piece of shit. It makes me feel guilty and horrible and disgusting. I know that I’m disgusting, okay? You can think less of me for it, if you want.
If it ever got to that point, if we ever found ourselves in that situation, I think I could sleep with him. And I don’t mean that I fantasize about us having sex, or that I’m even at a place where I’d want to right now. I just mean that, if it happened, I know it wouldn’t send me spiraling.
Most of the time, when I think about the first time I’ll sleep with someone since my assault, I anticipate it ending in a total and complete disaster. I mean, for fuck’s sake, sometimes I can’t even touch myself without having a panic attack or feeling like his hands are around my throat again. I can’t even begin to imagine what would happen if I had sex again. There are times that I think I could do it, that I want to do it, and other times where I’m sure I would have a meltdown so bad that it would send me back to the hospital. I am a pendulum, and I swing wildly, back and forth, between those two feelings. So, please try to understand me when I say that this is no small admission.
He’d be careful with me. He’d make sure I was okay. He’d probably even be hesitant to do anything until he knew I was going to be one hundred percent okay. None of this is to say that Lani wouldn’t do those things either. I’m not saying I couldn’t grow to trust her like that, it’s just really difficult to grasp. I say that about him because I know, truly, that the last thing he’d ever want to do is hurt me (and, again, not saying that she would want to hurt me). Sometimes, and I hate myself for saying this, I think that he might be the only person I could sleep with after what happened to me. Sometimes, I want him to be that person. I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do it, and it’d mean that much more to me if my feelings toward sex would start to improve because of it. I know that’s horrible. You don’t need to tell me.
All of this makes me feel like I’m poisonous, like I’m a fucked up person who only ever hurts people. I don’t want to feel like this. I feel guilty thinking about Jack in any way more than a friend and then hanging out with him like things are normal. I feel even worse entertaining or acknowledging those thoughts when I have Lani. That’s why this scares me. And maybe it is just some weird, intensive thought. Maybe my brain just decided to throw that shit at me and see what I’d do. I don’t know, and it’s killing me. I don’t even want to know what will happen if those feelings keep up. I don’t want them to. It’ll just ruin everything.
I went out a few minutes ago to see if he was awake yet, and to ask if he wanted anything from the coffee shop my mom is headed to on her way home from getting my sister some balloons. He’s asleep on the couch. It’s 9:17 in the morning and the sun is peeking through the spaces between the slats of the blinds. Light dances, it rains down upon his face in warped lines. He’s smiling, albeit softly, even in his sleep, and he’s the most rested as I’ve ever seen him since he started his newest job (so, eight months). I was quiet when I walked into the living room, just in case he wasn’t up, and I felt seasick at the sight of him.
I read this book last week, the first one I’ve managed to sit through and finish in months. There was this line that really stuck out to me and, right then, it’s all my mind would give me. You know that feeling, when you're watching someone sleep and you feel overwhelmed with joy that they exist? It was all I could think of and it hit me like a freight train, so I turned around and walked straight back into my room without double checking to see if he was awake.
I can’t silently pine over him and act like things are fine. I can’t do that. I won’t. It was so fucking painful the last time and I don’t know if I can handle it again. The worst part about it was that I couldn’t talk to him about it! How was I supposed to vent about loving him and not being loved back without being totally obvious that I was talking about him? It really hurt to keep that secret from him and it ate me alive. It’d only feel worse the second time around.
I hope it’s a fluke. I hope I look back at this letter and chastise my past self for being ridiculous or overdramatic. I hope, even if it isn’t a fluke, that I can force those feelings out of me. I know it didn’t work before, that it took almost a year to get over him, if I did at all, but I hope it would this time. I don’t think my heart could take it otherwise.
I need advice, Charlie. I don’t know what to do. Please, please tell me what to do.
Love Always, Just Nick 06 | 15 | 21
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Somewhere Over the Rainbow: Chapter 4
First | Previous | Next | Masterlist | Ao3
Summary: Roman and Janus come back to a surprisingly empty house, with no sign of Patton anywhere They investigate and find some... evidence of what happened.
Word count: 6.8k (6756)
Warnings: Blood
“Ahem.”
Roman cleared his throat as he and Janus sat in the driveway in front of their home, having turned the car off already. Janus turned to him from the passenger seat, patiently waiting for Roman to speak his piece without a word.
“You… think he’ll be okay with us being back so early? The last time we came home early he was sick with worry because he thought we hadn’t gotten the job and he had to hear us say it a couple of times before he believed us.” Roman bit his thumb nervously.
“He’ll be fine, Roman. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, alright? For now, let’s get out of this freezing car and into the house.”
Roman brought his thumb quickly down from his mouth, a grin spreading across his face.
“Let me go first though!” Roman exclaimed as he threw open the door of the car.
“When have I never let you go first?” Janus smirked over at Roman.
Roman glanced at Janus in his periphery. “Oh… plenty of times.”
Slam! Slam!
The thudding of the car doors in the driveway echoed through the brisk morning air of the neighborhood.
Janus chuckled as Roman sprinted around the side of the car to get in front of Janus, but as they walked up the path, Janus managed to keep pace. They had a quiet competition to see who could get to the door first as they conversed.
“Name one.”
“I’ll...I’ll think about it…”
“Figures.” Janus huffed, but by the fact that his smirk was still in place, he was more amused by the banter than he let on verbally.
Just before the door, Roman managed to slip ahead of Janus, triumphantly puffing his chest out in silent victory. He had bested the goal of being the first inside when they actually got inside.
Janus just rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as Roman fumbled for his keys.
Roman stuck out his tongue at Janus in response, but became too distracted to see if Janus responded with another gesture as he found the correct key and slid it in the lock. Pausing for a moment, Roman swung back to Janus, placing a finger to his lips.
Janus didn’t react. He had been with Roman enough that he knew he couldn’t stop Roman when he was like this. Janus had said as much one time, in fact.
Roman finally pounced.
“Patton! We are back from our glorious adventure in the great wide somewhere a little earlier than expected! I hope you were not too lonely in our absence!” Roman’s boisterous and deep voice announced loudly as he suddenly flung the door open in an attempt to surprise Patton.
But just beyond the doorway, there was… no one. That was expected, though, Patton wouldn’t just be standing at the door randomly.
A gust of wind blew past Roman and Janus into the house, and if either of them weren’t bundled up like they were, they would’ve been shivering in the wind.
Roman held his arms outstretched and hovered for a little too long, as if he was anticipating a hug to knock them over as soon as they opened the door despite his attempt to surprise Patton.
But when none came, he cleared their throat again from behind his pair of almost comically big sunglasses and repeated himself.
“I hope you were not too lonely in our absence, Patton!” Roman waited a bit longer after his second declaration. His face was unreadable in the stark shadow made from the light behind him, washing out any of the details of his face in the bright light.
Eventually he finally dropped his hands and peeked inside curiously.
“Patton?”
When Janus spoke up, his voice was much smoother, likely a consequence of attempting to lower his voice. Whereas the Roman’s voice was unapologetically loud, energetic, and on the verge of being grating, Janus’s voice had become the consistency of melted chocolate or the sensation of silk upon one’s skin. His voice was one someone could listen to without picking up anything that was said, just getting lost in his voice alone.
“Roman, he’s probably still asleep, it’s still early.” Janus soothed Roman, who was bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet.
“But he-” Roman turned back to him and began to interject before Janus interrupted him.
“He could’ve overslept them, Roman. When have you known Patton to wake up on time on a non-work day even with his alarms?”
It was if Roman had telepathically transmitted the conclusion of the sentence to him. Which Roman hadn’t, and he actually wanted to finish his statement, but ce la vie, he guessed.
Janus arched an eyebrow. His tone issued a silent challenge. In response, Roman finally deflated from his previously overconfident posture, chest and shoulders pushed out subconsciously. Roman’s chest drooped down instead, his shoulders curling in as his expression turned into something that was vaguely sheepish.
“Okay, Janus, you got me. I wasn’t thinking of his schedule.”
An awkward pause.
“Anyways, let’s get these coats off so we can make something to eat, I’m starving.” Roman said as he finally stepped through the door, licking his blood red-colored lipstick lips already in anticipation.
“You and your food,” Janus replied with a roll of his eyes as he followed behind Roman. “I swear if you didn’t have different fashion senses and he never refused to shave his mustache, I would have trouble telling you apart from him. Of course, until you start reciting poetry and he starts making inappropriate innuendos, that is.”
Though Janus's words were apparently meant to be carefully teasing by his tone, Roman’s blood red smile instantly dropped. Janus stood still in a moment of comprehension and slammed his hand over his mouth, eyes going wide.
“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t-” It was Janus’s turn to be cut off by Roman’s short warning tone.
“Don’t.”
Mentally daring Janus to push it, Roman glared at him for an extended moment, but Janus didn’t take the bait.
Janus snapped his mouth shut, turning his eyes away from Roman in another apology, this one silent.
Hiding his face, Janus stepped away from Roman and started to slowly and silently unbutton his thick, yellow patchwork winter coat.
Roman had a coal burning in his stomach, a burning feeling of anger that scorched his stomach. But he had nowhere to vent it, so it all came out on Janus. All the smoldering feelings he could never properly address until they met again.
It wasn’t until Roman looked back at Janus’s ‘pained and hiding it badly’ expression that Janus’s cool expression doused the flames progressively rising up his throat. Roman bit his lip.
Crap, that was a bit too harsh. He didn’t do anything to warrant that. He did go a bit too far with the comment, but I had no right to snap back like that. He was already apologizing! I’m a dunce.
Roman’s sharp expression full of furrowed brows and downturned frowns all at once softened into wide eyed and round mouthed gentleness. Wanting to remedy the situation he had gotten them into, Roman stretched out his hand to Janus’s back. Roman didn’t want to spook Janus, so instead he gently spoke.
“Wait… Jan.”
Having his winter coat already nearly off, Janus paused. His coat was peeled away to reveal Janus’s attire of a yellow slip-on jacket over a black long sleeve shirt and a pair of densely patterned flowy pants that were mostly a deep sort of purple. He turned slowly back to Roman, as if Roman was an animal about to pounce or something.
Roman’s stomach clenched when he saw Janus’s eye trained on the ground and his shoulders hunched forward, this was a far cry from his usually suave and confident Janus.
Dang it! I made him feel that way! How can I make this up to him? We’re both a bunch of clueless a-holes, I guess.
“No, you’re… F- Crap, I didn’t mean to do that. It’s okay, Janus. I know you didn’t mean to be mean, you’re okay. I… I acted without thinking because I was angry and I’m sorry for that. I shouldn't have lashed out when you were clearly sorry and I-”
Roman was interrupted in his ramble by a warm, lithe hand suddenly pressing against his, mind malfunctioning at the simple touch. His breath hitched as Roman blinked down where Janus had interlocked their fingers.
Lightly flexing his hand in the grip, Roman gazed down at their hands with awe before raising his eyes back to Janus’s. Roman’s breath was nearly taken away again as he didn’t see any scorn or anything that he thought he deserved directed at him, not even the same regret he knew was shining in his eyes. Instead, he saw graciousness and forgiveness in Janus’s eyes. Janus’s face was open and gentle, like they hadn’t just been at odds moments ago.
His mind was just a whirlwind of emotions, everything coming together in a blend that was completely unpleasant in his stomach.
“Uh…” Roman breathed out, hoping the crack in his voice wasn’t too noticeable.
Keeping their fingers interlocked, Janus’s face finally dropped back into its natural smirk as Janus pushed lightly on Roman’s chest playfully.
“Oh honey, please don’t tell me you’re speechless just because I forgave you. Certainly that’s not the reason, right?’ Janus flashed a knowing look as he finally shed his coat with his remaining free hand. The movement pulled at Roman’s hand, but he was still dazed from everything that had just happened that he barely registered the movement.
“N- uh, no, that’s not the reason because I’m not speechless. See? This is me speaking right now, not speechless.” Roman said, a slight heat falling over his cheeks.
Roman hoped desperately on the stars above that his face wasn’t as red as he thought it was.
“Ah, so the man does have a voice! What a discovery! Let us see if he uses it again!” Janus gasped melodramatically.
Janus placed his free hand under his chin in mock anticipation of Roman’s next words. Roman huffed, crossing his arms despite the traitorous smile threatening to bloom on his lips.
“Come on, Janus. The bit is over, it’s time to stop.”
Lighting up in pretend excitement as he opened his mouth, Janus ignored him in favor of continuing the bit. Roman pouted and turned away almost like a toddler as Janus was clearly going to continue whether or not Roman was onboard.
“Oh, he’s a feisty talker, this one. Will he… continue…to….”
Abruptly dropping the act, Janus trailed off, something catching his attention from the corner of his eye. Janus’s grip on Roman’s hand tightened into what could almost be described as a death grip. Whatever it was was behind Roman, though, so he had to turn a complete one hundred and eighty degrees to face what had caught Janus’s attention in the general direction of the kitchen.
At first he didn’t observe anything out of the ordinary about the kitchen, everything was immaculate save for the edge of the tupperware boxes that signaled Patton had been boredom baking again. It always tickled Roman to come back to a kitchen full of cookies whenever they had to be gone for more than a day at a time. But that was certainly not what Janus was concerned about, it didn’t click until he blinked multiple times to see anything new that it struck him.
The kitchen light was still on.
Roman’s grip tightened on Janus’s hand as an acknowledgement he had noticed as well.
He looked back at Janus, who led Roman by the hand over to the light switch slowly, neither of them speaking a word until Janus silently flipped the switch and plunged the kitchen into only the dim light streaming through the windows.
It was only then that Roman finally spoke up.
“He… never leaves the kitchen light on. You… you think he’s sick?” Roman asked, turned to Janus, who had an unreadable expression on his face. Janus was silent for a lot longer, and part of Roman wanted to joke back at Janus cause their roles were reversed, but the sudden hollow sensation in Roman’s stomach gave him reason not to.
“Whatever it is, something’s wrong. You think we should go and wake him?” Janus said.
Roman pursed his lips in thought.
“Well, at the very least we should check up on him. See if he looks like he needs anything before we jump the gauntlet here.”
Despite Janus’s slowly revealed expression of concern, Janus’s mouth still came up in a smirk.
“And here I thought I was the one who was going to say that. You’re the Mr. Impulsive of our group, I’m surprised you haven’t sprinted to his aid yet.”
You and me both, Roman sighed,
“For the last time, you know my name, Janus. And… well… don't know… something just feels… off about this.” Roman frowned, going to face the portion of the kitchen that continued past the dining table into the hallway.
“Definitely.” Janus echoed, shivering a little. That had his attention. Roman turned his head back to Janus, keeping his body facing the same way.
“You’re cold, Janus?” Roman asked.
Roman raised an eyebrow at Janus as Janus rubbed his arms a little, grimacing.
“Yeah. Are you sure you closed the door?”
Roman opened his mouth to say he had, but his mouth stayed open in a gape as the memories of the last 5 minutes flitted through his mind.
Roman had been in the car, then opening the door and doing his dramatic bit, then scowling at Janus, making up, then noticing the light and then he was here facing the hallway with Janus.
And at no point did he, or Janus for that matter, close the door.
Roman snapped his mouth shut, but made a point not to look embarrassed.
“No, but then again, neither did you.”
Janus arched an eyebrow much like Roman had just done to him moments before. Pursing his lips, Janus nodded slightly.
“Touche, Wroammin.”
Roman narrowed his eyes and folded his arms at Janus. “I can hear you misspelling my name. Don’t think I can’t.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,.” Janus nonchalantly shrugged. “Now, can you please go shut the door so we can check on Patton?”
Bringing a hand coming up to clutch his chest, Roman gasped dramatically.
“Why should I, the noble Roman Prince, be the one to close the door when you were the one closer to it and you didn’t close the door?” Roman crossed his hands in front of his chest again. “What do you have to say about that?”
Placing one of his hands on his hip, Janus dropped one of his shoulders, staring at Roman like he was dumb.
“Dude, you’re the one that still has your winter coat on. I’m cold over here, how do you imagine the doorway feels like?” Janus replied somewhere between flatly and incredulously.
Roman’s gaze shot down to his outfit, which showed that indeed his blood red coat was still in place as well as his winter boots below that. Not even a button was undone. Roman’s mouth hung open a little.
“Oh.”
Janus wasn’t amused, judging by the steady frown on his face..
“‘Oh’ is right. Can you shut the door now? The temperature’s dropped more than your IQ.” Janus’s smirk was back, gesturing low to the ground to accentuate his words. “Now. Before we go pounce on Patton to give him whatever care he needs, okay?”
Huffing, Roman rolled his eyes as he finally went to go close the front door. He nearly tripped over a stray glove beside the basket of gloves, picking it up so it was out of the way.
Hmm… Patton’s usually good about picking those up… Something is definitely off.
Roman threw the stray glove in the basket as he stood back up. He got what Janus was talking about as he neared the door; even through his thick coat a slight chill came over him. Though maybe that was just because his face and hands were uncovered, but he didn’t really have proof one way or the other. Either way, he was cold even with the coat.
He quickly got to the door and shut it with a satisfying slide and click sound. Sighing in relief at the sudden warmth that flooded back into his limbs and torso as the door shut, Roman turned around and leaned against the door. But as he opened his eyes, still relishing the warmth, his vision revealed Janus standing in the crossroads of the front door, the kitchen, and the living room.
Janus’s unamused frown was still heavily in place. Roman was thoroughly chastised with just the glance, Janus didn’t even have to say anything to get Roman to want to move again.
Still, Roman only begrudgingly pushed himself up from the doorway because Janus had looked at him like that. If it was Roman’s decision, he could’ve stayed there like that forever if he wanted, but he didn’t because Janus was there and he didn’t want to disappoint Janus.
Roman grumbled as he walked a few strides and began to strip off his coat, but not before he had slid his gloves off his hand and placed them nearby for ease of taking off the rest of what he needed to take off.
Unlike Janus’s slightly more informal looking attire, Roman’s attire under his coat was fairly formal. He did have a layer of thick black leggings on for the winter weather. Over the leggings, however, he had a flowy black dress with thin shoulder straps and a slit down the middle to about halfway up that had a design of red flowers across it.
But despite the dress's elegance, neither of the men made a comment on Roman’s ability to rock it as Roman shook the sleeves of his coat off his hands, still grumbling. Janus looked on, unimpressed.
When Roman had finally released his hands from the mortal coil of his coat, Roman hung his coat beside Janus's dullish yellow patchwork coat.
After shifting back to face Janus, Roman strutted to him with a sudden confidence likely brought on by the reminder of his outfit. He even threw a wink at Janus, which only garnered yet another eye roll from Janus as Roman sidled up to him.
Roman smiled expectantly, but all Janus did when Roman came back was grunt and start to walk down the hall so they could both check on Patton. Trying to hide his disappointed look, Roman sprinted down the hallway for a moment to catch up with Janus.
“Janus, wait up! Why’d you start going without me?” Roman said, attempting and failing to hide the disappointment.
Janus didn’t respond verbally, but his eyes flickered to Roman’s before he raised a silent finger to his slightly grimacing lips.
Getting Janus’s message loud and clear, Roman covered his mouth belatedly with his hand.
“Oh, sorry, I forgot Patton could still- no, is asleep. But still, why’d you just leave me behind?” Roman whispered, still wanting Janus to inform him why he did what he did despite Janus’s lack of answer.
Remaining deathly silent, Janus ignored him with only a glance of consideration back in his direction.
Roman considered trying to get Janus to respond again, but he decided against it as they reached closer and closer to Patton’s bedroom.
Mirroring the events from earlier, Roman brushed his hand up against Janus’s as he walked beside him, a silent request that was fulfilled when Janus reached out of his own accord and grasped Roman’s hand back. His gloves that he always wore around this time and rarely ever took off brushed against Roman’s palm, which he hadn’t completely registered earlier due to the influx of emotion that surrounded their previous gesture.
Their mutual handhold did get Janus to look a little longer back at Roman, which Roman silently declared a victory, if but just a small victory. But as with anything, the moment of connection didn’t last.
Both of them slowly let go of each other’s hands as they stopped in front of Patton’s door, analyzing the wood of the door. Neither of them really wanted to just barge in and risk upsetting in any small way if they were mistaken that Patton was under the weather somehow.
But it was the knowledge that they had to check up on Patton sometime even if neither of them wanted to that that pushed Roman’s hand forwards, the first to open the door.
Janus gazed down from the door to Roman’s hand, and then up to Roman’s eyes with a silent question to Roman.
Do we really want to do this?
In response, Roman simply nodded, forcing his expression into a more determined expression he wasn’t really experiencing.
Breathing a silent sigh, Janus looked back down then to Roman’s hand, squaring his shoulders in a similarly determined way that Roman thought mirrored his own false confidence. They were both resigned to accept whatever happened when they opened the door.
And so, Roman slowly twisted the doorknob, light pressing his body against it as he carefully eased the door open.
“Hey, Patton, you awake? We’re back early.” Roman whispered quietly. His eyes struggled to adjust to the light in Patton’s dim bedroom, only the light of the outside allowing them to see. Roman imagined Janus was having just as much trouble making out anything as Janus’s face scrunched in concentration beside him.
For the time being as their eyes adjusted, there was silence in the bedroom.
A nervous laugh bubbled in Roman’s throat, but he swallowed it back down. Instead, he kept his voice low as he tried again.
“Patton? I’m sorry if we woke y...ou...we...ju…...st…” Roman trailed off as Patton’s dim bedroom ultimately came into focus around them.
Patton’s plushies and various items around the room resolved into being, the blue of his comforter was still a more dull gray looking as the light from the windows still weren’t enough to completely make everything light and vibrant like they should be.
All of those things and yet...
Patton was nowhere to be seen.
There was a sinking feeling in Roman’s stomach as Roman traced and retraced the outline of Patton’s covers. He noted how the covers looked like they hadn’t been disturbed in a while as the door fully opened, lightly tapping the dresser nearby that was in it’s path by a small margin.
“Patton?” Roman asked one last time, even though with the evidence in front of his eyes told him it was pointless. Patton wasn’t in his bedroom.
Janus, on the other hand, appeared unable to speak. Roman had to look at Janus just to try to verify Janus was seeing what Roman was as well. And by Janus’s expression, he had glaring proof that what he was observing in Patton’s bedroom was indeed what was actually happening.
Eyes wide in what Roman assumed was shock, Janus had one of his gloved hands hovering over his mouth. His lips were parted a smidgen, as if Janus had tried to stop himself from speaking and fortunately succeeded.
Roman again took the initiative to speak, as Janus was in no position to do so at that moment.
“Jan, do you- is he-” Roman stumbled over his words, which might have been why Janus had refrained from speaking. However, Roman didn’t have too much time to think about that as his own stumbling over words at long last brought Janus out of whatever slight stupor he was in.
Janus dropped his hand down out from in front of his face, his voice shaking when he spoke.
“Roman, search the house. We… Let’s make sure he isn’t just somewhere. There’s a logical explanation for this. Both of us should try not to pan-ic.” Janus’s voice broke at his last word, an ironic humor to its timing. The slow panic rising up in Roman was audible in Janus’s words as well.
Glancing from the bedroom to the slowly more and more visible hallway, Roman stepped uncertainly backwards further into the hall. His own voice suddenly became as shaky as Janus’s.
“Yeah, I’ll… get the left, you get the right.” Roman said numbly, moving automatically towards the first room on the left before Janus’s firm grip stopped him.
“What?” Roman asked, a tinge of frustration and anger in his voice as he was yanked slightly back.
He immediately softened when he came face to face with Janus’s concerned face. And some or maybe most of that concern was for him.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not trying to hold us up, but we’re going to find him, alright? Even if he isn’t close right now, he will be.” Janus said, looking purposefully into Roman’s eyes with that soft expression of concern that just melted Roman’s anger and frustration and some of his worries away.
Janus… always had a way of doing that to him.
Wiping his anger and worries away so that all that was left was… love. Just a simple love that made Roman want to hold Janus and never let him go. He would kill anyone who dared hurt Janus, that was for sure.
Smiling just as gently as the touch was, Janus placed a tender hand to Roman’s cheek. He ran his thumb lightly over Roman’s cheek, as if exploring every inch of his cheek.
Roman closed his eyes, leaning into the touch more and more, trying to drink up the comfort it brought.
Opening his eyes again, Roman smiled sadly, already looking around the corridor towards the end of the hallway. But he did look back in Janus’s eyes to respond.
“Okay, Janus. Let us go find him.”
Janus ran his thumb one more time over Roman’s cheek, letting the moment stay a little bit longer, before ending the touch on Roman’s cheek and stepping back.
“Alright Roman, see you back here.”
Roman leaned into the touch even as Janus withdrew it, his lips parting to protest the lack of touch, but he bit his lip to stop as they didn’t have too much time to do that if they wanted to find Patton.
Roman straightened his dress a bit as Janus stepped back down the hall, facing Roman for a moment before finally turning and walking to his first room in the hall. His expression was on the verge of unreadable, and what Roman could read wasn’t one cohesive message. Roman looked after Janus, smiling a bit lopsidedly as he was fairly wary of whatever Janus’s look meant, but he stayed focused and turned to check the first room on the left side of the hallway, walking back towards the living room to get to it.
Trying not to make too much noise despite the whispered conversation he and Janus had just had in the hallway nearby, Roman placed his hand silently on the doorknob. He took a few deep breaths in before he slowly opened the door.
Cringing at the creak the door made when he opened it, Roman peeked his head into the similarly dim room. Like before, at first he didn’t see anything in the sudden darkness, but his eyes were much more quick to adjust to the light level this time.
Once his eyes adjusted to the light in the room, he also found the room to be void of Patton or any sign that he had been there. It was then that something irked him, but Roman couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was bothering him at first.
Having searched everywhere in the room with only a skirting glance, Roman regretfully slipped the door closed just as silently as before, a creak of the door greeting his ears once more.
Roman moved quickly down to the next room, it was his own bedroom nearing the corner of the house.
He had no clue what Patton would be doing alone in his room, but Roman had to check just on the off chance he was.
It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility for Patton to be missing them and wanting to get closer to each of them through their room and their memories. Patton was always the more emotionally connected and empathetic of the three of them. That’s what Janus and Roman both adored about Patton; he would cry at little ducklings and puppies, at hallmark movies, and at little children. It was so very adorable.
Roman quickly brushed all of the confusion he had about why Patton could be there and instead focused on finding out if he actually was there.
This time when Roman opened the door, he was a little less gentle or attempting to be silent. And apparently every single door had the same idea that day as it creaked loudly also when Roman cracked it open.
Peering into his own room like he wasn’t someone who lived in the room for at least a third of the day on most days, Roman was already quickly bored of the routine of waiting for his eyes to adjust to the light and if Patton was truly asleep he would’ve awoken by now. So instead of waiting like before, he took the initiative to reach his hand into the room blindly to hit the light switch.
He blindly fumbled for a moment before his hand hit the light switch, flipping it on with a deft flick of his finger.
Roman was momentarily disappointed to find in the stark illumination of his overhead light that Patton was again nowhere to be found. However, the moment didn’t last as he noticed something else.
Roman rarely ever made his bed, because his room wasn’t a performance where everything had to be wrinkle free. Why make your bed when the only person who is going to appreciate it being made is you? That was Roman’s methodology, at least.
But when Roman glanced into his own room, he was struck with the fact that the bed was now fully made. The plushie that Patton had gifted him as a token of gratitude to putting up with him, his words, not Roman’s, was sitting on top of Roman’s folded blankets at the foot of the bed. It was as if the plushie was standing guard over the room, which Roman found to be adorably thoughtful for Patton.
Roman smiled as he gazed down on the plushie. A warm feeling spread in his chest that beat the stress and panic of not finding Patton back just enough to give a little giggle at the dork Patton was for doing that.
Oh Patton, you giant empathetic dork. You knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you?
Except… he hadn’t found Patton yet. That was still important, but the sight of the plushie helped Janus’s previous soothing sink in a little more into Roman’s mind: “We’re going to find him, alright? Even if he isn’t close right now, he will be.”
Roman breathed in a deep breath in and out. In and out. In and out.
Everything was going to be okay, they would find Patton, wherever he was. Patton was close, even if he was physically farther away.
Finding the switch much easier this time as the light was on this time to guide him, Roman reached through the door again to shut off the light.
Once that was done, after Roman fumbled a bit getting his hand back out through the door, Roman stepped back from the door and turned to check the last room on his side of the hallway. Janus had already checked the last room judging by the door standing slightly ajar. However, Janus’s back was still visible in the study on the right side of the hallway.
Roman took a step down the hall before it hit him that Janus wasn’t moving. Janus was just standing there nearly in the hallway staring down at something in the study.
“Janus, did you find something? Is Patton in there?” Roman moved slowly to the door of the study, but Janus didn’t move to greet Roman or say anything. Janus only stood there, silent and not moving.
Janus only moved when Roman reached a hand to touch Janus’s back, causing Janus to jump at the sudden touch. He looked truly spooked when he turned around, his eyes going wide before he caught sight of who had actually touched him.
Janus immediately relaxed, but not completely, his shoulders were still tense as his expression was weirdly pained.
“Janus? Is something wrong? Did you find Patton?” Roman asked.
Trying to decipher Janus’s pensive expression, he tilted his head at Janus, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion.
Janus looked at the ground for a moment before he looked up at Roman, making eye contact with him as his parted.
“Roman I think he could’ve-” Janus swallowed like he had a lump in his throat. “He could’ve been taken. They… look-”
Janus stepped to the side to reveal the bottom drawer that rarely anyone ever opened was more than slightly ajar. The drawer was half open and clearly rummaged in and full of tools.
It took a few moments for Roman to connect the dots of what Janus meant. But once he connected the ajar drawer full of long thick utensils that some weighed almost a pound or two, it finally clicked what he meant. Roman’s hand flew to his mouth in realization and shock.
“You think?”
Janus clasped his hands in front of him tight, his expression pressing his lips into a thin line.
“I think it’s the most obvious, because his car’s still in the driveway and yet we can’t find him. What else is there to think?”
Roman cursed under his breath, his panic slowly rising as he imagined all the ways Patton could’ve used a utensil from the drawer to beat back an intruder. They always started out successful, Roman getting a pang of pride everytime Patton swung the utensil in a way that intimidated them. But all too soon, each possibility ended in Patton shot or stabbed or drugged, all of them ended as Patton was drug through the front door, bleeding out or kicking and kicking and screaming into a gag as the door was slammed closed, hiding what the assailants did next.
“But before we panic too hard and do something rash, don’t touch anything, and find any sign of a forced entry or a struggle. It’s possible if this happened just before we got back, they left only moments before we came. And Patton could still be hiding somewhere hidden thinking we’re still the people who broke into the house.” Janus said, smoothing down the front of his outfit compulsively, a tell that meant he was likely trying to keep down his own panic.
Roman opened his mouth to say something before hesitating. He wanted to just call the police and find out where Patton could’ve gone right then, but if Patton was in the house, it would be useless to do that for a missing person investigation. They would still need the authorities, but-
Roman’s eyes widened, gripping Janus’s shoulders tight. Roman needed to tell Janus.
“What if Patton called the police wherever he is and they’re on their way? We gotta find him if he’s here so he can explain-”
Janus pressed a gloved finger to Roman’s lips to silence him, prying Roman’s hands off of him with his other hand.
“Roman, if he has a phone with him, can’t we just call him? And if that isn’t what happened, he can just explain what did. Again, we can’t let panic get the better of us. Deep breaths, Roman.”
Roman was suddenly very aware of how labored and fast his breathing was. His head was very light all of sudden, which meant he had been breathing very shallowly in what he now could discern was a bit too much panic.
Roman’s lungs begged for air, and Roman obliged them as he breathed in deep. However, he was already pulling out his phone out of Janus’s eyesight.
“In... hold it… out… In....” Janus coached Roman for a bit before he glanced down at Roman’s free hand. “Oh Roman, come on. We can do that later, we need you to breathe right now, okay?”
Yanking himself from Janus’s grip, Roman shook his head as he called Patton, pressing his phone against his ear. He walked as fast as he dared back down the hallway to escape the wrath of Janus’s self-care, of trying to get him to breathe.
Roman didn’t need to breathe, he needed answers to what had happened to Patton.
“Roman!” Janus yelled after Roman, but Roman ignored him in favor of the rolling call tones coming from the phone. He craned his ears for any trace of a ringtone nearby as well. But as he walked from one end of the house to the other, Roman heard nothing but the sound of the call tones in his ear and the faint sounds in his ears of Janus’s pleas.
Roman’s heart jumped when he heard Patton’s voice, but as it continued, it hit him that it was just his voicemail message.
“Hey! Sorry I can’t come to the phone right now! I’m probably off petting cute puppies or spending some time with my partners. Leave a message after the beep and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can! I love you, whoever you are!”
Roman chuckled sadly into his phone at Patton’s voice, waiting until the beep to finally slow down in front of one of the front windows as he left a message for Patton.
“Hey Patton, I- We don’t know where you are right now, just know that you’re going to be okay. We're going to find you, I promise. I love… you...Patton.” Roman trailed off as something outside caught his eye, letting the voicemail go on a little bit in silence before he pressed the end call button on his phone.
He stared outside with wide eyes, turning back to the living room only to catch sight of Janus standing a little behind him as if he was going to talk to Roman. But instead Janus was gazing down at the couch.
“Roman.”
“Janus.”
Both of them spoke at the same time, the same amount of bewilderment and panic in their voices.
Janus looked up from where he was looking at the couch and Roman nodded at him silently to be the one to speak first. Janus swallowed again.
“Roman, there’s a blood stain on this blanket and the vase for the living room is broken in the trash. I think Patton’s hurt bad, because it’s a lot of blood.”
Roman glanced down at where Janus had been looking. He found the stain easily with how it stood out on the blanket, like a crimson mark on the pristine white blanket. Patton’s afghan was also noticeably in the pile of blankets on the couch, which confused Roman a little, but it did make a little sense with what Roman was just noticing in the driveway.
Roman glanced back out the window, just to make sure he was seeing correctly before he turned back to Janus again, eyes wide as saucers.
“Janus, it isn’t Patton’s car that’s in the driveway beside ours. Come look.”
Janus’s eyes widened as he ran over to the other window, looking through the curtain at the car that looked like Patton’s. Same kind of look, but it wasn’t exactly the same. The color of the car itself was darker and the interior wasn’t decorated in small plushies.
“That’s… Logan’s car. Which means it’s-”
Roman nodded.
“Remus. Which makes sense, if Patton was injured and knew he couldn’t drive and knew that Remus could get him to the hospital faster. But if Remus was actually the one to hurt Patton i swear to all things holy that I’ll-”
“Listen to Patton first for what happened instead of jumping to the worst conclusion that could’ve happened.” Janus finished for Roman, his voice gentle even as he began to tug Roman’s tense and angry form towards the door.
Roman parted his lips to protest but instead let Janus guide him to the door by the hand. Instead, he spoke to the air, ignoring the roll of Janus’s eyes as he spoke.
“Hold on Patton, we’re coming.”
#somewhere over the rainbow#sotr#sort#roman sanders#janus sanders#roceit#sympathetic deceit#sympathetic janus#sympathetic roman#tw blood#blood tw#misunderstanding#dramatic irony#eventual romantic dlampr#chapter 4
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What We Deserve, Claude x Byleth Fluff
Summary: Claude and Byleth are intent on breaking down the walls between Almyra and Fódlan, and they're starting with their wedding.
A series of snapshots of their wedding day.
Notes: My entry for the @claudlethweek prompt, which was traditions. Hope you guys enjoy!
Read on AO3.
What We Deserve
"I want to spend the night with my wife!" Claude whined as he draped himself over a fainting couch. He had spent most of the day running from Lorenz, but his friend had finally caught up with him and dragged Claude into a large chamber covered in maps and tapestries depicting battles fought long ago. Claude guessed this was the room in which Holst usually held his war councils, and was cleared out just for this special occasion. (Ever since Byleth and Claude had asked Holst to take over the Locket for the ceremony, Holst had taken his duty as host very seriously.)
"She is not your wife until tomorrow," Lorenz pointed out while pouring himself a glass of wine. He completely ignored the melodramatic pout Claude shot his way, refusing even to look at the newly crowned Almyran king sprawled out over a plush couch like a spoiled child.
“Well, spending all night in prayer to the goddess doesn’t sound like much fun either,” Claude said, continuing to sulk.
Lorenz and Sylvain both laughed, making Claude feel like he was missing out on the joke. Even Felix was fighting back a smile when he looked up at them all. “Technically what we’re supposed to be doing,” Sylvain said as he popped the cork out of another bottle of wine. “Not that anyone ever really does that.” He poured a much too generous amount of wine into a goblet and handed it to Claude. “Drink up, buddy.”
Claude’s pout fell away, replaced by a much more interested gleam in his eyes. “So this is what you do instead?” he asked as he took the offered cup. “Get drunk and eat too much?”
Raphael laughed, already piling a ridiculous amount of food onto his plate. “It’s a celebration! What better way to tell the goddess you’re thankful for all the good things in your life than by actually showing her?”
Claude raised his cup in a salute. “Well said, Raph.”
“Yeah!” Raphael cheered through a mouth full of food. “Besides, we’ve got a ton of food! It’d be a shame to let it go to waste! And there’ll be more tomorrow too!”
“Yes,” Lorenz drawled, staring at the large man with a bit of endearment, but mostly disgust. “We’ll be attending feasts for the next week, what with how you and the Professor have agreed to honor each culture of your respective cultures.”
“You don’t think we deserve it after all this?” Claude asked lightly, taking a sip of wine.
Lorenz sighed a bit melodramatically, his shoulders slumping to add to the act. “I suppose we do.”
“We’re really happy for you, Claude,” Ignatz added, looking like he wasn’t sure where he should be at the moment. “You and the Professor have done so much for us, we wish you the best.”
“Well said,” Sylvain agreed, raising his glass. “While I am saddened that it will not be me waiting for our beloved Professor before the altar tomorrow, I could not have lost to a better man.”
“Careful now,” Claude said as he leaned back into the couch, raising his cup to his lips to hide the grimace of annoyance that crossed his face. “Keep talking like that, and those words might find their way back to Ingrid.”
Sylvain blanched, while Felix outright laughed. “Ah well, to you and the Professor!” Sylvain managed to finish before tipping his glass back. Despite the nature of the first part of the toast, the other men in the room drank as well, Lorenz shaking his head at their first Blue Lion transfer.
“You got all that?”
Claude turned to look as Cyril opened the door to the large chamber the men had taken over. Someone, Claude suspected was Ashe, walked through with a tray ladden so high with food there was no way he could see over it. “Ah, yes, thank you, Cyril.” Yep, definitely Ashe.
“Here, let me help ya!” Without waiting for an answer, and despite Ashe’s previous assurance, Raphael swept the tray out of Ashe’s hands, leaving the poor boy blinking in shocked confusion, before depositing it on the table with the rest of the food they had already acquired.
Claude’s mouth watered as the scent of onion and saffron floated on the air. “That smells amazing.”
“I hope it tastes good,” Ashe said nervously. “I got the recipe from one of the women that came with your mother.”
Claude looked at the tray, smiling widely at the sight. “Are they cakes?” Lorenz asked.
“A rice cake,” Claude clarified. “It’s got chicken and yogurt in it too. One of my favorites when I was a kid. I haven’t had it in....a really long time.”
“My mom used to make those,” Cyril said softly, his eyes lighting up with happy memories.
The Fódlan born nobles looked at the cakes suspiciously. Ignatz, Raphael, and Cyril were quick to dig in. Claude launched off the couch toward the tray. “Hey! Save some for me!”
And so, Claude spent the night before his wedding feasting and drinking with some of his closest friends. When Sylvain challenged him to a game of chess, Claude showed him no mercy. The only thing that would have made it better was if Byleth had been allowed to join them.
/
Spring was well under way, but this far up in the mountains there was still a nip in the air. Byleth enjoyed it, content as a light wind blew around them. Holst had cleared out an outdoor section of the keep for her and ‘her ladies’ (as he had taken to calling them). He and Seteth were around somewhere, patrolling to keep unwanted visitors away from the small bridal party. (Although, Flayn had proven to be the most terrifying option to run into. Her disarming smiles made whomever she aimed them at feel as if they had disappointed the goddess herself.)
“All right, so we have options,” Hilda said, uncharacteristically serious. She set a large box in front of Byleth, who simply stared back at her.
Leonie snorted from her position next to Odette, helping Claude’s mother check over some substance called henna. Hilda ignored her and opened the box, revealing golden jewelry. Byleth leaned forward to study them, seeing that all contained little details that were Hilda’s signature trademarks.
“Did you make all of these for me?”
Hilda flushed lightly. “I just brought a selection of my latest designs,” she said too quickly. “I figured we would let you choose first, and then the rest of us could choose something so we matched.”
“That was sweet of you,” Marianne said in her soft voice, making Hilda flush even deeper. Byleth shared a look with Leonie, and they quickly moved to hide their laughter.
“Ooooh, these are so pretty!” Annette squealed, leaning over Byleth’s shoulder to get a better look.
“Oh, this necklace is beautiful.” Dorothea joined them, pulling out a rose shaped pendant made of tiny rubies and emeralds.
“It is,” Byleth agreed. “But I think that would look better on Leonie than on me.”
“Me?” Leonie almost shrieked. Odette clicked her tongue when the other woman almost spilled the henna in her shock. “I don’t really do jewelry, so I’m good.”
“But Lorenz would certainly like it,” Hilda pointed out, her turn to look smug as Leonie went bright red.
Odette was silent as she joined them, setting up her bowls and brushes in front of Byleth. She took Byleth’s hand in her own and began to work as the girls continued to talk. “Do not choose a necklace for yourself,” she instructed. “I brought something for you to wear as well.”
Hilda latched onto those words and immediately focused her attention on Claude’s mother. “I would love to see it!”
Odette smiled, still focused on Byleth’s hands as she began to apply the henna, but said, “Mercedes, please bring over the box in my belongings inlaid with the golden sun.”
“Oh, certainly.” It did not take Mercedes long to find the specified box and bring it over to the group. When Odette nodded, she opened it, all of the women gathered around gasping at the beauty of the choker laying on black velvet. Mercedes took it from the box and placed it around Byleth’s neck. The large emerald resting against her throat caught the noonday light, reminding her of her fiance's eyes.
“We are bringing the wine!” Petra’s loud announcement broke through the silence that had settled over the group, and everyone relaxed back into their easy chatting as she and Ingrid poured everyone a glass.
“Petra! You should braid the Professor’s hair!” Dorothea suggested happily.
“Yes! That would be amazing!” Hilda agreed readily.
Petra smiled at Byleth hesitantly. “That would be wonderful,” Byleth said, answering Petra’s unspoken question. “If you wouldn’t mind.”
Petra shook her head and took a place behind Byleth. “I do not be minding.”
“Oooh, you’re going to be so pretty!” Annette squealed again. Byleth was finding out that wedding apparently made the younger woman a bit giddy.
“Claude’s going to cry when he sees you,” Hilda said with a smirk.
“All right, I finished it.”
Byleth turned to Lysithea. The young woman had gone off earlier that morning, and no one had been able to find her since. Now it seemed she had returned, brandishing...a flower crown? She blushed at Byleth’s questioning look. “I know you are dressing in Almyran tradition, and Claude is doing the same with Fódlan fashions, but this isn’t exactly something for Claude.”
Seeing that Byleth was still confused, Mercedes continued the explanation. “The youngest member of the bridal party makes a crown of lilies for the bride to wear. It is supposed to represent her devotion to the goddess.”
Byleth raised her eyebrows, and turned back to Lysithea. “It doesn’t have to mean that. I mean, you practically are the goddess, but I just thought…” The young woman trailed off, uncharacteristically unsure of herself.
“I like it,” Byleth said simply. “Petra, can we integrate it into your design?”
“Yes, of course.”
For the first time in a long time, Byleth felt truly relaxed. Her former students...no, her friends, chatted around her, helping her choose the finishing touches for her outfit tomorrow. Tomorrow. Byleth smiled softly and touched the emerald at her throat, thinking of just what all this was for. Tomorrow she would marry Claude.
Odette noticed, squeezing Byleth’s hand gently. “You really love my son, don’t you?” Her question went unheard by the others. Dorothea had roped them into helping her convince Ingrid to wear makeup for the ceremony.
Byleth’s smile grew wider, unable to hide her happiness. “Yes.”
“Good. He needs a woman like you.”
/
Byleth frowned in concern, until she heard the noise again. With a sigh, she went to the window and waited. “That took you longer than usual,” Byleth said as Claude dragged himself into the room. He rolled gracelessly, crashing onto the floor. A moment later he held something up, giving a triumphant cry.
“Yeah, well I was carrying something.” Claude indicated the covered tray in his hands. “I brought you some food.”
“Are you drunk?” Byleth asked, watching as Claude got himself to his feet.
He held his fingers very close together in front of his face. “A little bit.”
Byleth laughed softly and shook her head. “Claude, you know we’re not supposed to see each other until the ceremony.”
“I know!” Claude whined like a wounded puppy. “But to be fair, it’s too dark in here for me to actually see you. And Ashe made tahchin, and I really wanted you to try it.”
“You’ll have to feed it to me,” Byleth said. There was the hint of a tease in her voice, one which Claude would usually catch onto easily, but this time it seemed to fly right over his head. “Your mother will kill me if I mess up her work.” She wiggled her fingers at him, but it really was too dark for him to make out the details of her henna.
“I can do that.” Claude crashed into a chair, pulling Byleth into his lap. He removed the cover of the tray and picked up some of the food, trying to aim for Byleth’s mouth. He missed completely, smashing it against her cheek.
“Claude!” Byleth laughed, trying to brush the rice from her cheek.
Claude joined in her laughter, burying his face against her shoulder. He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of her. Byleth could feel him relax against her back. “Stars, I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Claude,” Byleth answered back, brushing Claude’s unruly hair back out of his face. She kissed his forehead, content to simply snuggle against the man she had chosen as her own. They fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.
Lorenz waking them up with a shriek about decorum was rather amusing. And honestly, Byleth could not think of a more perfect way to start off her wedding day.
/
Byleth’s breath caught in her throat as she peeked around the corner, managing to catch a glimpse of Claude. He was so handsome she felt she needed to remind herself how to pull air into her lungs.
She watched as he adjusted the sleeve of his tunic, its light gold color matching her dress. The surcoat he wore over it was a soft green, a few shades darker than Byleth’s eyes, and a darker gold. It was emblazoned with the Crest of Flames on the left side, right above his heart, and the Crest of Riegan on the right. The surcoat draped a few inches below his knees, almost meeting his polished black boots. There was only an inch or so of the tight black leggings he worn on beneath, and Byleth felt herself flush slightly upon thinking of seeing him in just those leggings later.
Seteth said something to him, which Claude responded to with a laugh and that charming smile of his. His gloved hands rested on his belt, both inlaid with gems mapping out constellations in the night sky. His gloves showed ones from Fódlan, while the belt depicted those seen in Almyra.
Claude bent his head forward, that troublesome lock of hair falling forward into his face. He brushed it back, only for it to fall forward immediately. But then the music started, and Claude did not seem very interested in his hair any longer.
“Are you ready?” Alios asked her as the other members of the wedding party began to line up.
Byleth took his offered hand and nodded. Alois immediately began to tear up. “I wish your father could see you. He would be so proud,” Alois said, his voice quivering.
“I wish he was here too.” Byleth breathed deeply, her chest aching for a moment as she thought of Jeralt. “But, I know he would not have entrusted this task to anyone else besides you.”
Alois was full on openly weeping now. Byleth patted his hand and watched as Hilda linked arms with Marianne. Petra and Dorothea did the same, as did Sylvain and Ingrid, Felix and Annette, Ashe and Mercedes, Raphael and Ignatz, Lysithea and Cyril, and finally Lorenz and Leonie.
They entered the room before her, lining up on their respective sides. Claude had claimed Petra and Hilda to stand behind him, while Byleth had insisted that Raphael join her. Lorenz and Marianne looked very proud as they took their places as man and maid of honor.
And then all eyes turned back, eager for a sight of her.
/
Claude’s jaw dropped as Byleth was led into the room. They were separated by a crowd of well wishers, but his entire world shrank to her. She was always beautiful, but right now she simply stole his breath away.
Her dress was a light gold, decorated with tiny diamonds that made her gleam when she moved. He had never before seen her in Almyran fashion, but there was something about the short sleeved top and flared skirts that suited her. As Alois escorted her down the aisle toward him, those skirts, upon which were embroidered golden wyverns, the very symbol of Almyran royalty, flared around Byleth.
She held her head high, her eyes shining with joy as she looked at him, just as unable to tear her eyes away from him. Her hair was pulled back and braided, no doubt Petra’s work with how elegant the design. The red veil was sheer enough that Claude could see every detail beneath. Someone had woven together a crown of white Fódlan lilies and set it upon her head as well.
As she drew closer, Claude could hear the tinkling of her jewelry. Bracelets of gold hung from her wrists, and it sounded like she wore some on her ankles as well, hidden by the layers of skirts. There was a choker around her neck made of heavy gold and emeralds, the very one he knew his mother wore on her wedding day.
With tears on his cheeks, Alois guided Byleth’s hand to Claude’s. His heart skipped a beat as he held her lightly, pulling her closer to him. He could clearly see the whirls of henna on her arms now. There were stars woven into the designs on her fingers, while he noticed a sun and crescent moon on the back of her hands, rotating around a mandala.
“You look like you stepped out of my dreams,” Claude whispered to her, blinking rapidly at the sudden urge to cry. He chuckled to himself. Only Byleth would have him weeping with joy.
Byleth blushed, but held his gaze. “Putting that golden tongue to use a little early,” she teased.
Seteth cleared his throat, reminding Claude that there were other people besides the two of them in the world. The ceremony began, but Claude went through it in a daze. He said his vows, promising himself to Byleth, and intertwined their fingers when their hands were bound together with a thick piece of forest green silk. It was with wide smiles on their faces that they tore off chunks of bread to feed to one another, and worked as a team to take a drink from a goblet full of sweet wine.
They were finally allowed to exchange rings. Byleth sighed softly in relief as Claude’s ring was once more placed on her hand, holding it close to her chest and gracing him with the sweetest smile. Claude was grateful that he had been allowed to slide the ring on her first, because he needed Byleth to take his hand for him, guiding her mother’s resized ring onto his finger.
And then Seteth officially declared them husband and wife. He did not even get the entirety of his sentence out before Claude was sweeping Byleth into a kiss so passionate it was right out of a romance novel.
The room erupted into cheers around them, but Claude simply held Byleth tight, never wanting to let her go ever again.
/
“Are you ready?”
Byleth looked at Claude’s offered hand uncertainly. Their guests were fed, and their friends had given their speeches. Even Felix had offered a few words of encouragement. But now there was dancing. Dancing in the middle of a crowd was fine, but they would be no other couples this time. All eyes would be on them.
Claude, seeing her hesitation, offered her a gentle smile as well, one she had only ever seen when he looked at her. “Do you trust me?”
Byleth slid her hand in his and allowed Claude to pull her from her seat. “Of course I do.”
“Then trust I won’t lead you wrong, my love.”
He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close. There was a brief moment, a breath of time, where the world stood still as she stared into Claude’s eyes, and everything else fell away. The music started, and Byleth no longer cared that anyone was watching them.
The dance steps were a Fódlan waltz, but done to an Almyran tune. It meant that she and Claude were probably dancing the fastest waltz in history. They were practically flying across the dance floor, and Byleth laughed as Claude spun her around.
By the time the song was over, Byleth did not want to stop.
/
There was one tradition Claude was not having anything to do with. It happened to be the one tradition both Fódlan and Almyra shared. When it came time for the bride and groom to leave the festivities, Claude insisted upon escorting Byleth himself by himself.
Usually there would be a whole host of their closest friends following behind, who would help the couple out of their finery. It was intended as a blessing to their union, but there was a darkness that settled over him when Claude thought of anyone else getting to see Byleth like that.
Their bed would be more than blessed. He did not need help in that area.
So Claude shooed them all away with gentle but firm insistence, all of them laughing knowingly as he told them to go back to the party. Byleth slid her hand in his and leaned against his side, content as they began the journey to the chambers prepared for them.
“I didn’t want them to see you like that either,” she said softly.
And yet again, Byleth managed to make his brain forget how to work. Claude stopped in mid step to stare down at her. Byleth looked back at him questioningly, concern creeping into her eyes. Claude bent down to pick her up, throwing Byleth over his shoulder. She let out a small gasp of surprise, before it turned into that melodious laughter he loved so much.
“Claude, what are you doing?”
“I’m about to show my lovely wife the time of her life.”
Claude carried Byleth all the way to their rooms like that, his wandering hands caressing her bottom. He did not set her down until they reached their bed, and Byleth was quick to pull him down to join her.
/
Byleth woke to sunlight streaming in through the windows. Claude’s warmth was a comfort beside her. It was not the first time she had woken up next to him, most definitely not the first time they had spent the night in each other’s arms, but something about waking up as his wife made her heart swell. He had entrusted her long ago with his dreams, but now he had told the entire world.
She reached out, gently brushing back that unruly bit of hair she loved to play with. Claude frowned and muttered something inaudible, attempting to bury his face in the pillow. Byleth chuckled softly, Claude’s eyes opening slightly at the noise. “I must have really worn you out last night,” she teased.
Claude’s frown deepened, and Byleth could see the start of a scheme forming in those emerald eyes. “Is that what you think?”
“Certainly seems that way.” Byleth rolled onto her back and stretched, feeling his eyes on her the entire time. She moved to slide out of the bed, but Claude’s arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her back.
“I might have to take it as an insult then that you’re so energetic this morning then,” he murmured, sitting up to place a trail of kisses down her back.
“Well the answer to that is obvious.” Byleth sighed contentedly and leaned back in her husband’s embrace, enjoying the way his hands explored her. He had already mapped every inch of her body, but he never seemed content. He always seemed to need to redraw those maps, committing the feel of her to memory.
“Oh? Are you going to share this hidden knowledge with me?” Claude laid her back down, leaning over her as he began to work his way down her body. She shivered in anticipation as his lips journeyed across her stomach.
“I’m happy,” Byleth said simply.
Claude paused, fully positioned between her legs. Byleth caught the deep blush on his cheeks before he dove down, using her thighs to hide his embarrassment. “You know,” Claude murmured against her skin, “sometimes I wonder if you know what you do to me.”
“I do.” Byleth reached down, gently running her fingers through his hair. Claude laid his cheek against her leg and stared back up at her. If anyone saw that look in his eyes, they would have no doubt of his love for her, but Byleth preferred that look to be something for her alone. “But you’re just as aware when you do the same to me. And you enjoy it either way.”
Claude smirked and dipped his head back between her thighs, but not before leaving her with, “And I shall for the rest of our lives.”
#fire emblem#fire emblem three houses#claudeth#claude x byleth#claudeleth#my fic#fanfic#one shot#claude von riegan#byleth
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Episode 43 Review: Curiouser and Curiouser
{ YouTube: 1 | 2 | 3 }
{ Full Synopses/Recaps: Debby Graham | Bryan Gruszka }
Maljardin, an isle of mystery. Much remains unknown on Jean Paul Desmond’s isolated island, including the locations of the conjure doll, silver pin, and the missing cyanide, the contents of the final week of Dr. Menkin’s missing notes, and the true cause of death of Jean Paul’s beloved wife Erica. Now that a mysterious black rabbit has appeared on the island which has known no wildlife for three hundred years, new mysteries arise, including one that literally surrounds that rabbit’s neck.
In Ian Martin’s original timeline, this would be the point where the Reverend Matt Dawson exorcised Raxl and Quito’s writing box (although whether that would have revealed the Conjure Man’s also mysterious original message is anyone’s guess), but executive meddling required him to negate that timeline and write about the Rabbit of Evil instead. Come, let’s follow the black rabbit into the increasingly bizarre rabbit hole that is mid-Maljardin-era Strange Paradise.
A minute and a half in, and Cosette Lee is already in top form. Chew that scenery, Cosy!
We open with a recap of the séance from a week and a half ago, courtesy of Raxl and Jean Paul. Raxl gives us the great line above comparing the falling chandelier to “a fist of the devil,” which she delivers beautifully. She connects the falling chandelier to the rabbit who just appeared--or, as she calls it, "this THING that mocks the problem!"
This is Jean Paul’s concerned face.
When she reminds him that the black rabbit appeared out of nowhere on the island which previously harbored no wild animals, he looks increasingly concerned. Whereas in yesterday's episode, he dismissed her claims as superstition and the rabbit as a harmless animal that probably came over on the boat, now he appears willing to think them over. At least that’s how it appears in this part of the scene, although it’s also possible that he’s just worried about Raxl’s sanity. Raxl may be melodramatic and she may sometimes go to extremes in her efforts to protect her home from THE DEVIL JACQUES ELOI DES MONDES, but she is arguably saner than you are, Jean Paul.
"Oh, master, believe me!" she begs. "This…thing, this…thing in the form of an animal is a manifestation of evil!"
“Evil, in your eyes, Raxl,” corrects Jean Paul, or so he thinks.
“Not only mine. Look at Quito. He has eyes, too. He knows. Oh, master, believe me! This black rabbit is an emissary of DEATH!”
Jean Paul continues his mansplaining.
Oh, Jean Paul! To think, I had so much hope for you! I guess that, even after repeated possessions, Dr. Menkin's mysterious death, a leaking capsule, a falling chandelier, and all the things that have happened to Holly, you still refuse to believe in "superstition." You know that, down in Hell, Jacques is kicking back in his peacock chair, gloating about this again:
Jacques: “Jean Paul, what was that again about your IQ of 187?” *evil laugh*
"Then how could it be on Maljardin?" she asks.
"The supply boat, perhaps," he repeats from last episode. "Holly Marshall had no trouble in hiding herself in order to get over here. Surely a small animal like this would be even less likely to be noticed." It sounds plausible, but it’s still doubtful that the rabbit would have lasted so long after the supply boat returned to Maljardin without eating some poisonous plant and dying. I doubt that Quito leaves fresh produce just lying around on the boat.
"If you want to, believe that," replies Raxl, "but I believe it is possessed by EVIL!"
"Raxl, it seems that you are the one who is possessed by fear.”
"It seems the Devil is possessing us all, quietly, cunningly, and each day just a little more," she says, before leaving for the crypt. Quito follows behind, carrying the rabbit, who is just as enthusiastic as it was last episode about being part of one of Canada's first domestically-produced soaps. The way it squirms trying to escape from Quito’s arms in the crypt scene is priceless:
ROFLMAO
Meanwhile, Jean Paul argues with Jacques about the rabbit. Jacques agrees with Raxl on the rabbit's supernatural origins, which further angers Jean Paul. He asks him why he wants to convince him of that, and Jacques gives this cryptic reply: "Big beings have little beings on their backs to spite them, and little beings have smaller beings, and so on, ad infinitum."
"Now, perhaps Raxl is right," Jean Paul muses. "Now just what is in your mind?"
"Perhaps you'll find out at the séance," Jacques teases. He goes on to suggest to him that perhaps Erica did not want to be frozen in the "ridiculous" cryonics capsule. Jean Paul gets all defensive in response and accuses him of trying to break their pact. "Isn't it about time that you delivered her back to me?" he demands.
"We'll find out at the next séance," says Jacques, and Jean Paul demands that he not attend. Jacques implies that there may not be another séance (but why not?), and Jean Paul flips out on him:
FEAR the finger of DOOM!
The acting from both Colin and Cosette in this episode is so over-the-top that it’s somewhere in outer space.
And then...
The Reverend Matt Dawson walks in on him arguing with Jacques and thinks that he was talking to himself.
How does Jean Paul respond? Why, by gaslighting him, of course! “It’s hard to imagine that a man of the cloth would lose control so easily,” he says as though Matt were the one with a screw loose. Now, isn’t that charming?
Matt warns Jean Paul that the people on Maljardin--himself included--are looking for an escape. "We are not children, and we are not completely powerless," he tells Jean Paul. "We will find a way to cut the knots that bind us here."
He also says that his faith, which was challenged when he arrived on the island, is returning. Jean Paul uses this as another opportunity to gaslight him: “You are not regaining your faith. You are merely losing your faculties.” One would think that was a Jacques line, but it’s not. There’s neither a shot of the portrait disappearing, nor any Jean Paul headache faces followed by Jacques’ beringed hand grabbing his face, nor is Fox-C grinning psychotically like Jacques would probably do while saying that. It’s Jean Paul at his most unpleasant.
“On Maljardin, only I speak,” he continues. “Others listen.” It’s like he’s determined to be as much of an asshole as possible in this episode. Bless his heart.
But all the despotic orders in the world won’t shut the Reverend up. “Now I know why I came to Maljardin,” he replies, and it’s not to stalk a twenty-year-old teenager. “It was my destiny to be a force of good among all the evil here.”
“A savior?” Jean Paul asks.
“Perhaps,” he replies. “Is there one here who needs saving from himself?”
Sometimes I wonder if Reverend Dawson was intended to be the real hero of SP.
Raxl and Quito enter the Not-So-Hidden Temple of the Serpent with the rabbit. She pleads and begs for the Serpent to give her answers about the Rabbit of Evil, calling the adorable animal a “monster.” This scene is classic Raxl and belongs on any list of Raxl’s best scenes. Here are my two favorite lines from it:
Raxl: "Speak to me, Great One, for the sake of my master and his beloved visitors and for all the spirits in this house who are roasting on the spit of the fire of evil. OPEN YOUR SPEECH TO MY UNDERSTANDING!"
"Quito, TAKE THIS EVIL THING! Its foulness has stilled temporarily the voice of the Great Serpent!"
But it doesn’t stilt the Serpent for long. The mysterious locket at the beginning of this review appears around its neck, where it wasn’t before. When Raxl touches it, it stains her hand with blood.
Meanwhile, in Jean Paul’s hidden monitor room...
Jean Paul: "Erica, my darling, I wonder how you will find me when at last we are together again? I fear the strain of all this has made me hard and cynical. The Reverend is good, twice the man he was when he first arrived. If only he could see the rightness of my cause, he would make such an ally for my purposes." [You’re deluding yourself, Jean Paul. You have zero chance of convincing Matt that your cryonics scheme is anything but blasphemy.]
"Some serve me, to their honor and reward. Some cross me--to their death!"
*reading Teleprompter* "No one understands. There is an inner circle, my love, and it is big enough for just the two of us."
Jean Paul: "My darling, the second séance is very close at hand. The Conjure Woman recovers and this time nothing will stop us!"
*more obvious Teleprompter reading* "You will come, you will speak, and at last for the first time, for just a little while, you and I will be together."
He’s so cute! <3
Like the previous episode, it’s obvious that they rushed this one even in comparison to the others, because of how often Fox-C reads the Teleprompter. I’ve noticed that he does so more often starting during this week of the show and increasingly until Cornelius Crane takes over writing the show--which won’t be for another two weeks--before slowly petering out until Desmond Hall. I see this as a measure of how hastily an episode was slapped together, although I could be making assumptions.
Anyway, Raxl asks Quito if he noticed the bloody locket before, and he shakes his head. “I am right!” exclaims Raxl about her belief that the rabbit was a demon. She follows this up by asking the Serpent, “Where did it come from?” and we cut to the camera panning over the cryonics capsule:
Obvious foreshadowing is obvious.
Quito leaves the temple to find Matt and Holly sneaking into the crypt, and chases them back up to the Great Hall. Holly demands to know where the rabbit is and Raxl (who enters just then) announces that it ran away!
“Discovered something, didn’t you?” Matt asks Raxl. He asks if she found the doll and pin or the week of missing notes, to which she answers no and no. “For Heaven’s sake, what? Another demon?”
Just as baffled as I am that a Christian minister like him doesn’t believe in demons, she accuses him of mocking her. He accuses her of turning irrational, which means that Jean Paul’s “everyone is irrational but me” delusion must be rubbing off on him. Holly accuses Raxl of having already killed the rabbit.
“Foolishness! Madness!” Raxl shouts. “I tell you that-”
Matt interrupts to point to the rabbit, who, despite its tall ears, is somehow able to sleep through this argument. Must have selective hearing.
Holly grabs the rabbit and Raxl starts screaming for her to hand it over. “IT IS EVIL! IT MUST BE KILLED!” she cries as Matt restrains her. “IT MUST BE DESTROYED BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE!” Fortunately for Holly (but unfortunately for Raxl), Jean Paul hears the commotion and comes downstairs to take the rabbit from them.
When he does, we hear the sound of a small object dropping. He leans over to pick it up and reveals the strangest detail so far in this mystery:
Jean Paul: "This locket…"
Raxl: "Yes, master, I-"
Jean Paul: *more pained* "This locket…was…Erica's!"
Everyone’s jaw drops--which we see in a series of close-ups of all five human actors in this episode--and the music swells. After commercial, Raxl tearfully reveals that Jean Paul gave Erica the locket on her birthday, and tells Jean Paul and the others that she knows that the locket was not around the rabbit’s neck until after she called upon the Serpent. Holly accuses her of being superstitious, and they get into a fight where Raxl tells Holly that she and her fellow Christians don’t understand the spirit world and Holly calls Raxl’s beliefs “mumbo-jumbo.” Matt also accuses Raxl of lying about how the locket appeared “so that we would believe in spirits and demons.” I know that not all Christian denominations believe in the literal existence of spirits and demons, but it’s still odd hearing the Reverend deny their existence.
Raxl calls him a fool, too, and says once again that the rabbit must be killed. She and Holly are about to go back to arguing when Jean Paul cries out, “YOU ARE ALL WRONG!” And then we have yet another shocking revelation: Erica was wearing the locket upon her death, and still when she was entombed in the cryonics capsule!
Somehow he’s able to get the rabbit to hold still for a few minutes, even with all the shouting in the final scene.
In case anyone’s wondering why this entry took so long, it’s because I’ve also been working on a couple posts reviewing Ian Martin’s entire period headwriting this show. That’s what I plan to do at the end of each arc or at the end of each writer’s stint on the show (with the exception of those writers who only wrote a few episodes, like James Elward, Joe Caldwell, and the team of Ron Chudley and George Salverson). You can expect my two-part review of Ian Martin’s SP shortly after my review of Episode 44, which may also be slightly delayed because of it.
Coming up next: Ian Martin’s final episode, the much-anticipated second séance and its shocking conclusion.
{<- Previous: Episode 42 || Next: Episode 44 ->}
#strange paradise#review#maljardin arc#ian martin#week 9#episode 43#the bloodied locket#jean paul's monitor room#foreshadowing#great serpent#lost episode summaries#the not so hidden temple#passive aggressive jean paul#rabbit of evil#scenery chewing#times infinity#sp and religion#tape recorder journal#teleprompteritis
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So I finished watching Yakuza 7: Like A Dragon. Spoilers under the cut.
(Mainly positive take, some criticisms. C+/B I’d give it.)
So, first of all, I didn’t play it, I just watched people on youtube so my perspective of gameplay should be taken with a grain of salt. But I really liked the turn taking fighting style! Like a real JRPG, I thought it was fun, it seemed fun anyway, and the strategies to JRPG make more intuitive sense to me than fighting games, which I don’t know at all. I did end up missing the hand-to-hand combat like... aesthetically and it kinda breaks universe rules a little. But, like, Ichiban seeing combat as a sort of heightened fantasy reality actually helps with that and the plot still treats us like average combatants. Like, there’s still no murder, despite a lot more weapon use, including guns. So... it’s a little sad and weird universe-wise, but seems fun to play.
Ichiban is a great protag! Definitely not Kiryu! He has two dads, like 8 spouses, a lot of hair... He’s only 7 years younger than Kiryu and that’s... that’s a choice ^^; But he’s got a lot of good things going for him and I like his build. Interesting rage-grief he has going and a thing about revenge that Kiryu never had. And I like that actually, I like that Ichiban gets hit with different things than Kiryu did, but he still has flaws. Kiryu was never blind with rage the way Ichi got, but then, Kiryu also didn’t save his brother. Like, they have VERY different shit going on, which is GOOD. So I’m kinda annoyed that in the end we took Ichi’s dad and brother, just like Kiryu’s? Like... damn :/ Lame. Lazy.
I love Ichi’s team! I love Adachi, Nanba, Saeko, Joon-gi, Zhao. Top notch peeps! I like that they all just like him and are here for a fun adventure with him. They’re all here for something different, which is also really cool. Zhao is sort of redefining who he is in... retirement I guess? Trying out being a companion rather than a leader. Saeko is longing for family, connection, a place to belong. Adachi was here to accomplish a goal, to restore his honor and provide justice. And Ichi’s been a big help to that. Joon-gi is... a whore. I’m sorry! He’s just this beautiful, obedient man who’s just here on lend and he does whatever the fuck you say. Do not put him in charge of decisions, he’s terrible at them, but he knows a lot and has a vast network. But he appears just to be here to serve everyone’s needs, so to speak, and to moon after Ichiban like everyone else. And Nanba. Nanba hates adventures. He hates germs. He hates people and friends and danger and doing things. But he’s here. Because Ichi makes him hate things a little less. Nanba is a cynical, cowardly bastard, and Ichi’s a fucking sunshiney idiot always trying to fix shit that isn’t his problem. And he makes Nanba get up and fight. He makes Nanba believe in tomorrow. Nanba doesn’t trust people, Nanba doesn’t hope. He’s a pessimist and lives only to complain. But he is first in line to get shot for Ichiban every fucking time. He’s always the first to Ichiban’s side when he’s in trouble. Leaving and betraying Ichiban broke his fucking heart and my ship is probably showing A LOT here but I don’t care. I fucking love Nanba, I love his arc, I did NOT see it coming. And they are definitely my ship out of this. The fact that Nanba without fail is always the first to put himself in danger for Ichiban guts me. With how much he doesn’t believe in good things ever happening, it destroys me that he’ll dare it all for Ichiban. Fucking wild.
I thought it was cool to bring up a political villain, but... we didn’t really carry through on Bleach Japan’s thematic importance. We revealed them to be cruel and hypocritical, but we didn’t end up actually saving the slums or proving why the slums needed to be saved and that’s... kinda lame :/
I was really hoping that we might make a stand on why grey spaces were needed, on why organizations like the yakuza are needed but instead we... disbanded? And I don’t even know why?
Like, it was to fuck over Ryo Aoki. But... he was a TEMPORARY problem. All you had to do was move the organizations underground until he was unseated, which the Tojo already was???
But instead... we brought down Tojo and Omi and... WHY?! Like, SERIOUSLY, can ANYONE tell me WHY! Because I have a LOT OF FEELINGS about why that’s a BAD CALL.
What are all those guys going to do now? “Oh, we’ll just make a security company” YOU’LL WHAT?! THOUSANDS of guys used to shake downs will now be hired to patrol rich estates and cover banks and business buildings?! Fighting WHO, themselves?! A LOT of that job is just watching some fucking cameras, what... what the fuck are you talking about Watase?!
But I guess that’s still better than Daigo’s “I have no fucking idea” plan
NO WONDER Majima’s depressed at that funeral you JUST TOLD HIM his new job is BABYSITTING SOME RICH FUCK’S BUILDING. Fuck you guys!
And HAVE WE LEARNED NOTHING ABOUT POWER VACUUMS?! CRIME doesn’t disappear just because there’s no one there to manage it! That just means it gets worse! And rasher, crueler people grab power in the interim. Smaller but rougher groups will appear. More and worse crimes will happen now. You just disenfranchised thousands, not all of them are going to come with you to play security detail and not all of them WANT to. So why EXACTLY did we disband the yakuza? What problems did that solve???
What about all that shit about the yakuza being a home for people who didn’t fit in? What about people who fell through the cracks in the system, who don’t have anywhere else to go?
If the yakuza, as an idea, was so fucking bad, WHAT WERE THE LAST SIX GAMES ABOUT?!
You can’t have an established series that accepts the idea that crime and violence are sometimes necessary or are even good things and have a compelling protag who does that, ONLY to turn around at the last second and pretend like it was always wrong!
If you were gonna act like the idea of organized crime is a Bad Thing, THEN THAT NEEDED TO BE A CONFLICT FROM THE BEGINNING
But you didn’t even do that!
We DIDN’T disband the yakuza because organized crime is inherently morally corrupt, no we disbanded because some prick thought he could use us! A PRICK WHO IS NOW DEAD! THE FUCK?!
And DON’T GET ME STARTED on how this reframes Kiryu’s narrative. KIRYU WASN’T RIGHT FOR LEAVING YOU FUCKING BASTARDS.
THE WHOLE POINT OF KIRYU’S ARC WAS THAT HE WAS FUCKING WRONG TO ABANDON HIS RELATIONSHIPS I- *screams into pillow*
AND why does Kiryu need to be dead now?! There is no more yakuza! Who does he need to hide from?!
OH no wait, my mistake! We didn’t disband ALL the yakuza, just Omi and Tojo! You know, the two biggest cities in Japan. I’m sure THAT won’t have Fucking Consequences. But Kiryu still has to be dead for uh... Reasons.
This was just such a fucking dumb universe-building move. It’s not been thought through, it betrays the whole point of the franchise up until now, and I’m honestly just mad that they didn’t even feel the need to address it? Like, the yakuza’s just gone now, but it’s whatever. Who would even care about that. Like, that’s not going to be a plot point next game. It won’t matter, at all, I promise you. All of the in-universe implications this has, none of it matters. And I’m not even mad I’m just... tired. And annoyed a little. that you can’t be bothered to tie up your own rules. You won’t give your own writing decisions weight and that’s just... kinda sad. It’s just lazy and sad that they don’t care enough to connect the pieces. But I’ve had my heart broken enough by yakuza writing decisions. Of course they would do this, of course they haven’t thought enough about their own series to really consider what ending the yakuza would mean. Why would they?
I’ll still watch the next game. Like, Ichiban is likeable enough and I’m interested in his arc enough that I’d play or watch next time. But... *sigh* We’re the Yakuza series with no yakuza. And y’all gonna act like that’s a good thing or pretend it doesn’t even matter. And I really don’t know what to do with that since you haven’t bothered to examine it either.
On a nice Kiryu note, I did like that he was scaled appropriately, I like that Ichiban is Wiped Out after almost every fight. He’s a good fighter, but he has human endurance. Kiryu’s still god. He hits the hardest out of anyone you fight and you Don’t win and that’s As It Should Be. I’m REALLY glad they at least let me have that. I’m glad they let us fight Kiryu and we passed and it was a cool passing of the torch. I was so worried they were going to destroy Kiryu’s legacy and at least they didn’t do that.
The coin locker baby thing... it was cliche and convenient, but in the way that Yakuza is cliche and convenient and melodramatic and over the top. It was sort of fitting and familiar that way. Shame we ended Swashiro like that, I think we could have done more and cooler shit with him but, eh.
SPEAKING OF MORE AND COOLER SHIT
...all that effort, just to kill him? Alllllll that long time, that hard conversation, that break down with Ichiban... just to kill him. Just to make him Nishiki, all over again.
I... fuck you.
Why do you refuse to write a goddamn redemption arc
Fuck, you don’t even have to write it, have it happen off-screen if you’re so fucking afraid of it. Just have him recuperate in a goddamn hospital and, I don’t know, by next game just show that he’s doing better and is getting therapy and whatever.
Jesus fucking christ, he doesn’t have to MATTER in the next game just... don’t kill him. Jesus. Please.
All that fucking work and you’re STILL going to give Ichiban the trauma of losing someone he was trying to save.
I just... it’s really gutting how much you don’t like your characters and you don’t like to write and you’re cowards. You won’t take risks. You’re too afraid of fucking up so you won’t do what the narrative calls for.
Killing Masato was lazy-ass, punk-ass, coward shit and I wont’ stand for it. I did not expect to care about his ass by the end but you guys REALLY made an effort in making him a three dimensional character there at the end and explaining why Ichi would care about him and I was willing to come with you! I was willing for us to invest in this dumbass. We walk him all the way up to the edge and step him back. We let him let go. And then you just. fucking. gave up. You goddamn cowards.
I’m so tired of this shit
For all that, it was genuinely a really fun game and a really fun story with a lot of likeable characters. I think a solid C+, even a B. I really did enjoy most of it. It’s just... in usual Yakuza style, they only fucked up 2 things but they were a REALLY IMPORTANT 2 things.
Oh and I did like the fact that Ichiban Still Doesn’t Know. No one tell him.
#Yakuza 7#Yakuza: Like A Dragon#It's always a mixed bag with RGG Studios#At least Kiryu was pretty nice#Y7 spoilers
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