#or a willingness to leave the new cats outside | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

themaladaptivewriter12 · 1 year

Text

Title: Party Games!

Part 1 of my “Every Other Friday!” series! Part 2 here!

Pairings: Platonic

Summary:

Mirai goes to his first Housewarden meet as Ramshackle Prefect, where he gets to know more about the other dorm heads.

a/n: Hi! This is one of the very first fics I’ve written for Twisted Wonderland, and it’s actually how Cater became my bias.

Reblogs are appreciated, just use my custom tag, #TheMaladaptiveWriter12, if you do! ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

Cross posted from my Ao3: TheMaladaptiveWriter12

Mirai has only been a student, well, half a student for about two months, and in such little time, Mirai has already gotten quite used to his new life at Night Raven College. He’s gotten to know the three ghostly occupants of his own dorm, who he calls Biggie, Smalls, and Rangy, all of which are a joy to be around, when they're not hiding his stuff while he sleeps, that is, and for his classmates, well, Mirai was getting there. He’s made friends with the dorm members of Heartslabyul so far, the five of them quite the excitable bunch, especially Ace and Deuce, the two freshen becoming people Mirai held close.

Friday rolled around, and Mirai was more than tired, but he was going to spend his Friday evenings just like he has been for the past couple of weeks, which was to help Professor Crewel organize and take inventory of his potions closet. Ace, Deuce, and Grim all had balked when they had found out about Mirai’s willingness to spend, in Ace’s words, “more time than necessary,” with Professor Crewel. Deuce had asked if he was being punished or picked on by the rather eccentric Professor, which Mirai had dismissed both questions, saying it all was by choice. Mirai found the Professor quite agreeable, he couldn’t see why everyone was so edgy around him.

“Alright, Little Papillon,” Professor Crewel said from outside the potions closet, “you can leave now.”

“One second,” Mirai called back, jotting down the rest of his notes.

“What are you doing in there? Come.”

Mirai rushed out the closet, up to Professor Crewel, who was standing by his desk.

“Good boy,” Professor Crewel praised, petting Mirai on the head.

Mirai really couldn’t understand the antics of this man, but everyone was a little mad here.

“It looks good, and so do your notes,” Professor Crewel said, looking behind Mirai to the open potions closet. “You’re good at this. I may just have to see if I can make you a permanent lab assistant.”

Mirai nodded.

“I cannot keep you any longer unfortunately, Trein has been on my case about me keeping you after class,” Professor Crewel said, sucking his teeth in disdain, “Saying something about it being unethical. Also, Crowley has been searching for you, your dorm perhaps.”

Mirai nodded again.

“Cat got your tongue? Speak,” Professor Crewel commanded.

“Ah, sorry,” Mirai apologized quickly.

Professor Crewel chuckled, patting Mirai on the head again. “Now go, little pup. Wouldn’t want to keep the Headmage waiting.”

“Right! See ya Monday, Professor Crewel,” Mirai called, gathering his things, rushing to the door.

“Oh wait,” Professor Crewel reached into his coat pocket and tossed something shiny in Mirai’s direction, “A treat, for your efforts. Fetch!”

Mirai, barely catching the small object, opened his palm, it was a small blue glowing stone. Crewel liked giving Mirai little things since he couldn’t actually pay him.

“Thank you, Professor,” Mirai said hurriedly.

“You are quite welcome, now out!”

Mirai ran from Crewel’s lab to his dorm, and when he got back, The Headmage was at his door.

“Headmage,” Mirai greeted, his breathing haggard.

“Hello, dear boy,” the Headmage greeted, “I hope this day has been quite enjoyable.”

“It has.”

After an awkward silence, Mirai cleared his throat, asking, “Did you need something, Headmage?”

“Ah, I did. I came to inform you of your new duties as Prefect of the Ramshackle Dorm.”

“Yes, of course,” Mirai nodded.

“There are events you must attend as a Housewarden, no matter how small your occupants are. You may not skip out on these, unless you cannot make it for health reasons.”

Mirai nodded once more.

“There’s an event today at seven, please be there. Now I must be off, dear boy, for I am a busy man. Ta!”

“Wait,” Mirai called, but it was too late, he was gone. It was six fifteen, and Mirai still had to pick up dinner.

Mirai sighed and messaged Cater for some information. According to the Heartslabyul third year, every other Friday, the Housewardens and their vices of every dorm got together and did an activity to strengthen their bonds with each other, and to avoid any altercations or confusion, they had a week before the designated Friday to vote on their desired activity. This week's theme was “party games” and it was to be held in Professor Trein’s classroom.

Still in his lab coat, Mirai made his way to Sam’s Shop, hoping there were still some of the better options left for the day. With a chime of a bell, the door opened and Mirai was met with the clutter of miscellaneous objects that decorated the shop, and behind the counter was Sam himself.

“Hello, Little Imp,” Sam greeted with his signature drawl, “Are you that eager to see me again? A little too early for your shift tomorrow, I’d say.”

On top of his studies, Mirai took up a part time job working at Sam’s Shop. He worked whatever shift he wanted on weekends, plus it was fun, hanging with Sam. He was a little peculiar, but that’s what made Sam so special. Also the pay was nice.

“Hi Sam,” Mirai greeted, “I’m just here for something quick. I have a meeting to go to, and I need some dinner for Grim.”

“Ah, food for the Little Imp’s familiar, I think I know just the thing.”

Sam pulled two tuna sandwiches wrapped in plastic wrap from seemingly nowhere, and made his way back to the counter. Already familiar with the shop’s prices, Mirai pulled out twelve marks for the sandwich.

“Actually, that one is worth six Thurmarks,” Sam corrected.

“Huh?” Mirai asked, “Aren’t sandwiches worth six?”

“Today, for my favorite worker, they’re worth three.”

“Are you sure?”

“Keep it up, and I’ll make you clean out the storage room tomorrow,” Sam said with a smirk.

“H-Hard pass! Three marks,” Mirai stuttered.

Sam laughed, taking the bills, before handing Mirai the bag. “Have a nice night, Little Imp!”

Finally making his way back to his dorm, Mirai shoved open the front door.

“Grim,” Mirai called, shoving the door shut, “Ya home yet?”

Grim’s little face appeared from the lounge, curious blue eyes looking the Magicless Prefect up and down.

“‘Sup human, you’re back early,” Grim said, putting his little paws on his hips.

“I have a Housewarden meeting to go to, so I got you dinner. Don’t cause any trouble.”

“Since when have I caused trouble?!” Grim yelled incredulously, taking the tuna sandwiches from Mirai’s hands.

“Two words; the squirrel.”

Grim lowered his head in embarrassment, and if he could blush, he certainly would be right now. “Fine, fine. I’ll behave.”

“I know you will,” Mirai nodded, “And I hope you three will look after him as well.”

“Hey! Don’t ask the ghosts!”

Mirai laughed as he went up to his room to shower and change his clothes.

Mirai was late, he hated being late, but let it be the ghosts to be the ones to hide his uniform in “compensation” for watching over Grim. His socks were in the pantry, his slacks in the garden, his shirt was in the basement, his blazer hanging from the lounge chandelier, and his shoes were on the roof. And it wasn’t like they all appeared there at once, no, once he found one piece of his outfit, he had to guess which piece was next and where. Cater also had apparently been blowing up his phone the entire time, but he was none the wiser, for they had taken his phone as well.

It was seven forty-five when Mirai got to the classroom, and he was seriously thinking of skipping the entire event, and feigning a stomach ache.

“Stupid ghosts, stupid meeting, stupid, stupid, stupid,” Mirai muttered to himself as he approached the door.

Getting closer and closer to his destination, Mirai’s steps began to slow. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, his palm was sweating, his hands were shaking, and his heart was pounding. He could hear muffled voices coming from the other side of the door, they all sounded like they were already having some fun.

“They don’t need me, right?” Mirai asked no one in particular.

“One magicless Prefect isn’t going to change anything.”

“One scummy Housewarden isn’t going to change anything.”

Mirai jumped at the second voice and whipped his head to the right and was looking up at a pair of wide topaz eyes.

The male shrieked, backing himself up against the opposite wall, his face going pale, well, paler than what it already was.

“Awesome,” Mirai muttered in awe.

Looking up at him, Mirai met with one the coolest looking guys he had met so far since coming to, or in this case, since being forced into this world.

“I-Is that real?” Mirai asked in awe.

The guy opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, before whipping out a table. Before Mirai could guess what he was gonna do with it, it spoke.

“Is what real?” the table droned.

Mirai was caught off guard by the action, but not enough for him to ask about it, instead continuing their conversation.“You’re hair.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, props to you, dude.”

There was an awkward silence after that, Mirai and the fire haired guy just stood there, staring at anything but each other. There was a shout from inside the classroom, and the two jumped.

“Ugh,” Mirai sighed, remembering his predicament, “I should just skip.”

“I second that,” the blue haired guy’s tablet responded, “Being late does crit damage to introverts like me. Totally trash-tier.”

Mirai laughed, “Uh, we could go in and be late together? That way it won’t be that bad?”

The blue haired guy looked surprised at Mirai’s question, before sighing. “It’s now or never.”

Mirai opened the door and was immediately met with a wave of pop music. Luckily the room was too occupied with whatever they were doing to notice the two late attendees. Closing the door after the blue haired student, Mirai was finally able to really look around the room, and he was surprised. On the left side of the room the lower desks were covered in treats. There were five kinds of chips in their respective bags, bowls of single wrapped candies, bowls of different kinds of dip, and bottles of assorted drinks. Next to all of that were stacks of paper plates, paper bowls, plastic cups, and red and white checkered napkins. It didn’t take a genius that the party supplies was supplied by Heartslabyul. Over in the front of the room, a large speaker sat on Professor Trein’s desk blasting music, and hanging from the edge of it were cute little streamers.

“Mirai, Honey, where have you been?!”

Cater was bounding across the room, wrapping Mirai in a tight embrace.

“C-C-Cater,” Mirai gasped, “T-Too tight.”

“Oopsies,” Cater said, loosening his grip, “Sorry boo, you had me worried there. Hey Idia!”

Mirai turned around and the blue haired guy, Idia, hid behind a tablet.

“Hello Cater,” Idia’s tablet said.

“Mirai Yuhara! Idia Shroud! You two are fifty-five minutes late!”

Idia whimpered, hiding behind Carter's form. Mirai craned his neck around, to see Riddle marching up to him.

“Queen of Hearts Rule No. 10: One must always be on time,” Riddle said angrily, “I should have your heads for this.”

“Blame the ghosts,” Mirai sighed.

“The ghosts?” Cater asked.

“The ghosts of Ramshackle Dorm. They like to take my stuff and hide it sometimes. It was already late when the Headmage told me I had to attend today, but to make matters worse, they took my uniform and made me go on a scavenger hunt.”

“Aww, you poor thing,” Cater cooed.

“I’ll let it slide,” Riddle grumbled with a pout, “But remember, I will not tolerate lateness again.”

“Yes, Housewarden Riddle.”

Riddle smirked, “Good. And don’t think I haven’t forgotten about you, Idia!”

Idia shrieked, stepping away from Riddle

“You know better than to show up this late! Have you no shame?!”

“I-I-I-”

“Riddle cut the guy some slack, we’re here to have fun anyways,” Trey said as he walked over to Riddle, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“But Trey! He-”

“Hush, and relax,” Trey said, ruffling Riddle’s hair. “Evening, Mirai. Glad that you could finally make it.”

“Hiyaz, Trey,” Mirai said, “Glad I could finally make it as well.”

“Now all we need to do is wait for Malleus,” Cater said from above Mirai.

“Oh shoot! Did we invite him?!” A white haired, tanned male with red eyes asked.

“If we didn’t, so be it. We don’t need that horned bastard here,” Leona called from where he was lounged out on the other side of the room.

Ruggie snicked from Leona’s side.

“Oh? And here I can think of one person whom I think we don’t need here.”

With a flash and green firefly like sparkles, the tall horned man, who sometimes shows up at Ramshackle, appeared in the room. Leona growled at his presence.

“Malleus! You made it,” The white haired boy cheered.

Mirai gasped as a pink little bat fluttered in his face, before poofing into a pointy eared, black and pink haired fae.

“And who might you be, dear doy?”

Mirai yelped, staggering backwards in Cater’s hold.

“Son of Man, Mirai Yuhara. Nice to finally see you here,” Malleus said with a smile.

“Nice to finally put a name to your face,” Mirai said back.

“You two know each other?” The pointy eared man asked, looking between Mirai and Malleus.

“We’re quite acquainted,” Malleus said with a smile.

“Lilia Vanrouge,” the pointy eared male, Lilia, said, sticking his hand out to Mirai.

“Mirai Yuhara,” Mirai said, shaking his hand. They were soft.

“Let’s just go around the room and address ourselves for Mirai, to get it out the way. I’ll start. Cater Diamond.”

“Trey Clover.” Trey said, cutting a slice of strawberry cake for Riddle.

“Riddle Rosehearts,” Riddle said.

“What a pain. The herbivore already knows my name,” Leona gruffed.

“Just say it,” a student with blonde hair with purple tips huffed.

“Leona Kingscholar.”

“Ruggie Bucchi,” Ruggie smiled.

“Azul Ashengrotto,” a student with silvery lavender hair, and glasses said with a formal bow.

Mirai bowed back.

“Jade Leech,” said a massively tall man, with aqua hair with a black streak on the right side of his face, with a bow.

Mirai bowed again.

“Eh! He’s so tiny! Shrimpy! Shrimpy! Little Shrimp!”

“This is my brother, Floyd Leech,” Jade said.

They were twins. Floyd was a smidge taller than his brother Jade, his eyes downturned instead of Jade’s upturned, and instead of the black streak in his hair being on his left, it was on his right.

“Lemme squeeze him! Lemme squeeze him until he pops,” Floyd chanted, striding over to Mirai, making grabby hands.

“U-Uh, Cater?”Mirai called, anxiously.

“Ah, he’s scared,” Jade said with a sinister smile.

“Cut that out Floyd, you’re scaring him,” Azul chided, grabbing Floyd's shoulder, “I don’t want to lose another potential client-I mean, friend because you two keep scaring them away.”

“Eh? Azul’s being annoying,” Floyd whined, with a terrifyingly blank looking face.

“Ooh, ooh! Me next,” the white haired student chirped, rushing over to Mirai.

“Wait, Kal-”

“Kalim Al-Asim,” the haired male, Kalim, addresses with a smile, “And that’s my right hand man, Jamil Viper.”

Jamil just sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m the Housewarden of Scarabia! You should come over some time! We throw the best parties around!”

“I guess I’ll stop by one day,” Mirai smiled.

“Awesome!”

Mirai found his antics cute.

“Moving on,” Jamil said, pulling Kalim away with him.

“Rook Hunt,” a male with a blonde bob cut said with a bow, pulling his large feathered hat off his head in the process.

“Vil Schoenheit,” the blonde with the purple tips said from his spot in one of the upper desks.

Mirai thought he was pretty, really pretty. His skin looked so soft and supple, his lips looked like they felt like flower petals, and his hair looked as if it felt like silk.

“You’re up, Roi de Ta Chambre,” Rook said, gesturing his hat at Idia.

Idia was hiding in one of the desks in the farthest corner. He promptly hid behind his tablet, which again spoke for him, “Idia Shroud.”

Mirai was a little sad that he didn’t speak again, he thought his voice was rather attractive.

“Where’s Ortho?” Azul asked.

“At the dorm,” Idia’s tablet spoke, “somebody’s gotta keep charge.”

“Ah.”

“And that leaves me, Lilia Vanrouge,” The small cherubic fae smiled.

“Malleus Draconia, Crown Prince of the Briar Valley,” Malleus smiled.

Mirai was surprised. He hadn’t realized there were so many princes that attend this school.

“Your turn, Hon,” Cater said from above, letting go of Mirai.

“Ah, um, Mirai Yuhara,” Mirai stammered.

“Nice to meetcha,” Kalim smiled.

“Now that introductions are done, let’s get this party started,” Cater shouted.

Cater ushered Mirai to the front of the classroom, where he seated him next to Trey and Riddle on the floor. Trey filled a cup up with some soda, and passed Mirai a plate of chips.

“First up, Never Have I Ever,” Cater cheered.

Groans rang out around the room, but there were a couple of excited cheers from Lilia and Kalim.

“Gather around children,” Lilia called.

Soon the whole room was seated on the carpet in the middle of the room. Leona was lying on his side, with Ruggie seated in front of his legs. Idia was to his right sitting on a desk and Vil was seeded to Leona’s left, sitting cross legged on the desk. Next to Vil was Rook and then on the floor to his left were Jamil and Kalim. In front was Cater, and next to him, was Trey, then Riddle, then Mirai. To Mirai’s left was Azul, the twins, then Lilia, and lastly Malleus to Idia’s left.

“I’ll ask first then we’ll go around the room,” Cater said, “Instead of shots, you’ll throw a marble into the cup in front of you, whoever loses their marbles,” the room erupted in a few snorts and snickers, “loses. Sounds good?”

Everyone gave out their agreements, and a few whined in disdain.

“Great! I’ll start! Never have I ever,” Cater said in thought, “cheated on a test!”

Leona threw in a marble, so did Ruggie and Floyd.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Azul said unimpressed.

“Trey, you're up,” Cater called.

“Never have I ever cut class,” Trey said.

“Why go to class, when I’ve already done it?” Leona asked, dropping in a marble.

“That’s the point,” Riddle yelled, “Because you had to repeat!”

“The only reason why I had to skip was because of Leona,” Ruggie said, dropping in a marble.

Idia silently dropped a marble into his cup.

“Never have I ever failed a test,” Riddle said triumphantly.

The whole room groaned, dropping in a marble.

“You set us up,” Cater whined.

“That’s the point.”

“Never have I ever,” Mirai stopped to think, “uh, fallen asleep in class.”

“Y'all really have it out for me, doncha?” Leona growled, dropping in yet another marble.

“Sorry, Leona,” Mirai sang, “That’s just how the cookie crumbles.”

Floyd, Cater, and Kalim also dropped in a marble.

They came went around the room, and everyone found out that, Cater, Trey, Jade, and Jamil have been dumped before, Mirai, Azul, and the twins never been out off of campus besides home, Kalim, Floyd, Cater, Riddle, and Mirai have secretly thrown out food they didn’t like, and everyone besides Idia, Lilia, Malleus, and Mirai have never slept more than nine hours before.

“Are you serious?! You’ve slept for sixteen hours before?!” Riddle asked incredulously.

“Mn. I didn’t feel like getting up,” Mirai said with a shrug.

“That’s my kind of sleep,” Idia smirked, sharp teeth glinting in the light.

“Never have I ever been not invited to a Housewarden event,” Leona said looking straight at Malleus with a smirk, no even bothering to go in order anymore.

“Low blow, Leona,” Cater chided.

“Never have I ever had to repeat a year,” Malleus shot back.

“You wanna go, horned bastard?!” Leona yelled, shooting up from his position on the floor.

“I do believe you started it, house cat,” Malleus said standing from his spot next to Lilia.

“Uh, Guys?” Kalim called.

“No, no. Someone has to teach this lizard some manners,” Leona roared.

“Says the over confident lion cub, all roar no bite,” Malleus chides.

“Stop this at once,” Riddle yelled, “The next person who says something, I will have their head!”

The two stopped and the two settled down.

“Never have I ever tripped over myself in public,” Vil said, continuing the game.

“Aw, I trip like twice a day,” Kalim sighed, putting in a marble.

Mirai, Idia, Cater, Floyd, and Azul, albeit reluctantly, put a marble in the cup.

“Never have I ever lied to my Housewarden,” Rook said, looking at Vil.

Ruggie, unabashedly, dropped in a marble, Leona seemed like he didn’t care, and Jamil put one in, embarrassed.

“You lied to me?!” Kalim asked, surprised.

“I-It, I-, I lied so that I could keep you safe,” Jamil muttered

“Oh.”

Floyd giggled putting a marble in his cup and so did Jade.

“Again, why am I not surprised,” Azul sighed.

Cater and Trey reluctantly dropped in a marble.

Riddle looked between the two, his expression going from surprised to anger, his face getting redder and redder.

“Now, Riddle,” Cater tried to soothe.

“It’s not what you think,” Trey defended.

“Pray tell, Rose Chevalier,” Rook pressed.

“Y-You were sick, and y-you couldn’t taste anything, so gave you ginger tea with honey instead of lemon with sugar.”

“Rule no. 339, Your after-meal tea must be lemon tea with two sugar cubes,” Riddle yelled.

“But you felt better after,” Cater defended.

Riddle growled.

“C-Calm down Riddle. Remember, we’re letting the little things go,” Mirai soothed, patting Riddle’s hand.

Riddle’s face flushed red in embarrassment instead of anger, but he did calm down. “I-I’ll let it slide,” Riddle muttered finally.

According to Cater, he never had stolen something, which Ruggie and Jamil then dropped in a marble.

“Ah, sorry Ruggie,” Cater apologized.

“Nah, don't sweat it,” Ruggie said, waving his hand.

Mirai dropped in a marble. He could feel the eyes of everyone on him, but he didn’t feel like explaining.

“Never have I ever not been kissed,” Kalim said, giggling.

“Does that count?” Vil asked.

“I don’t know, but Ima just roll with it,” Cater shrugged.

Leona, Azul, Malleus, the twins, Mirai and Idia put a marble in their cups.

“Why would anyone want to swap spit with someone else?” Idia asked, dropping in a marble, “That’s so unsanitary.”

“Only a lip virgin would call it that,” Ruggie giggled.

“A-A-A W-What?!”

The room was littered with snickers.

“Wait,” Vil called to Kalim, “Who kissed you then?”

“I kissed-”

“Kalim!”

“Jamil,” Kalim cheered.

“We were six,” Jamil yelled defensively.

Leona guffawed.

“Does that even count?” Azul asked.

“If it does, then I’m taking my marble out,” Floyd said, taking his marble out of his cup, Jade following suit.

“Oh, honey,” Cater sighed, looking at Mirai “No one’s ever graced you with a kiss before?”

“Nope,” Mirai said, separating the jelly beans on his plate by color. He honestly didn’t care, really.

“Lemme kiss you then,” Floyd yelled, climbing over his brother and Azul, to reach Mirai.

“Sit down,” Azul chided.

“Not that I don’t think you shouldn’t have been kissed, but who kissed you Riddle?” Ruggie asked.

“Che’nya,” Trey supplied.

“Trey,” Riddle gasped, face growing red, slapping Trey on the arm, “I thought I told you two to never speak of that again!”

Ruggie snickered.

The game looped back around since no one was out yet, and it landed back on Azul.

“Never have I ever broken a limb,” Azul said with a smile.

Ruggie, Cater, and Rook dropped in a marble.

“Uh, Azul,” Mirai asked.

“Yes, Mirai?”

“Uh, do you still have to have that limb to still count?”

“Pardon?”

“Do you still have to have it?”

“I don’t get your question,” Azul said wearily, “What do you mean, have?”

Mirai knew he should’ve kept his mouth shut. He could feel the fun air the room had slowly dissipating, but it was too late to take it back now. Mirai cursed his lack of sensibility he had sometimes.

Mirai pulled off his glove and rolled up his sleeve and the metal of his right arm glinted in the magestone light.

The room was silent.

“I, uh, I think so?” Azul questioned, trying to sound normal, but his voice still wavered.

“Cool,” Mirai said, tossing in a marble.

“Eh! Shrimpy’s arm is cool! Lemme touch it,” Floyd yelled, crawling over his brother and Azul yet again.

“Floyd! Stop that,” Azul yelled.

“Oh, my, do calm down, dear brother,” Jade said.

“Can I? Can I?” Floyd asked like an over eager child, ignoring his brother and Housewarden.

“Sure,” Mirai said, trusting his arm out in Floyd’s direction.

Floyd, with surprising gentleness, reached out and ran the tips of his fingers along Mirai’s metal wrist.

“Eh?” Floyd said in awe, “It’s metal. Can you feel that?”

“Nope,” Mirai said.

“But you can move it.”

Mirai laughed, flexing his hand, “Yeah I can, but it lacks the sensors of physical perceptions such as touch, pain, heat, and cold.”

“Eh? You lost me there.”

“Can I touch it?” Kalim asked.

“Kalim,” Jamil hissed.

“It’s okay Jamil, I don’t mind,” Mirai said, moving his arm from Floyd's touch, over to Kalim.

“Cool,” Kalim muttered.

“Lemme see,” Idia said reaching over, the to feel. “You think I can work on this?”

“Be my guest,” Mirai laughed. “Just don’t break it, yeah?”

Idia scoffed, “Me, of all people, break something? Don’t make me laugh.”

“I want shrimpy! Move,” Floyd yelled, pulling at Mirai’s hips.

“Floyd! Stop,” Vil yelled, as Floyd shoved at him.

“Get off my pants,” Ruggie grumbled.

“Ow,” Kalim shouted.

“Kalim,” Jamil called.

There was a crash and Floyd was lying on his back, with Mirai lying on top of him.

“There goes our marbles,” Trey said, as he watched the marbles roll across the floor.

“New game,” Cater calls.

“Not another,” Idia groans.

“Next is Charades,” Cater whoops.

“Ooh, how do you play?” Floyd asked, confused.

“Oh this one’s easy.”

No one wanted to make teams, so it ended up being a free for all. Everyone ended up sitting on the carpet facing Mr. Train’s desk. Rook and Vil sat to the far right, then it was Azul and the twins, next to them was Riddle, Trey, Cater, who was again holding Mirai, then Kalim and Jamil sat to the far left. Behind them was Ruggie, and Leona, who was taking up the space next to him by lying down on his side again, and behind him was Lilia, Malleus, and Idia. Cater put all of their names in a word randomizer, and whoever's name was randomized had to go. Floyd ended up going first. It was one word and they had to guess what he was doing.

“I’m an animal,” Floyd said.

“You’re not supposed to tell us, dear brother,” Jade chuckled.

“Whateves.”

Floyd stood up and began waving his arms around.

“Monkey,” several of them yelled.

“Bird! You’re a bird,” Kalim shouted.

“Elephant,” Cater yelled, pointing.

Floyd shook his head and continued waving his arms crazily in the air.

“Snake?” Vil asked.

“Cat?” Riddle asked, curiously.

“Wait,” Lilia said, “Floyd do you even know what animal you are?”

Everyone looked to Floyd.

“Yeah! Duh,” Floyd responded.

After a while of waving his arms around, Floyd slumped to the floor.

“Man,” he huffed, “You guys are bad at this.”

“I give up,” Riddle sighed, “Just tell us what you are.”

“Wasn’t it obvious? I’m Azul!”

“How was that Azul?!” Jamil asked, incredulously, “We were doing animals!”

“I was an animal! I was on Octopus!”

The room was silent.

“Floyd,” Azul growled.

“Next,” Kalim called.

Cater used the name randomizer on his phone, before calling on Vil.

“Pick a word,” Azul said, passing the bowl of words to Vil.

Vil sighed before picking up the top slip of paper.

“How can you even act this out?!’ Vil gruffed, crumpling the little slip of paper, and stomped up to the front of the room.

Vil put up one finger.

“One word,” Trey said.

Vil nodded and began touching his arms, legs, chest, and head, and very dramatically tried to tear his hands away from himself.

“Your beauty is so fierce that you cannot even touch yourself,” Rook shouted.

“What does that even mean?!” Leona shouted.

“You're sick?” Trey guessed.

“You’re hot?” Jade said.

“Oh, I know I am, but no,” Vil said with a wink.

Jade smiled, unfazed.

“Hey, no talking,” Floyd whined.

Vil shrugged but went back to it.

“You’re fighting off your rabid fans,” Ruggie drawled.

Vil glared at him.

“Fire! You’re on fire,” Malleus yelled.

“Crying?” Idia guessed.

Vil sighed and did the motion again.

“You’re touching yourself,” Leana said with a snicker.

“Leona,” Riddle shouted.

Leona guffawed.

“You’re stuck?” Mirai asked.

Vil lit up pointing at Mirai.

“Sticky,” Half the room yelled.

“You’re in a straight jacket,” Floyd called out.

Vil glared at the Eel-mer.

“Slimy,” Idia shouted.

“Tied up,” Jade shouted, “You’re being kidnapped!”

Vil stopped and looked at Jade like he grew two heads.

“Gooey,” Rook yelled.

Vil pointed at Rook.

“Goopy,” Kalim guessed.

“Glued?” Lilia asked.

“Finally,” Vil sighed, sitting down next to Rook.

Cater randomized names again.

“You’re up Idia,” Cater called.

Idia whimpered, and took a slip of paper.

“Ugh,” Idia groaned, “This sucks.”

Mirai giggled at Idia’s muttering, thinking it was endearing.

It was one word, and Idia stood up in front and began jumping about, waving his arms around, spinning in circles.

“You’re a spinning top,” Riddle shouted.

“You're a flower floating in the breeze,” Rook called.

Idia slowed his motions, looking at Rook with a raised eyebrow.

“Swimming! You’re swimming,” Azul guessed.

Idia shook his head.

“You gotta pee,” Kalim shouted.

“Huh?!” Idia shouted.

Everyone busted out laughing.

Idia flushed, the tips of his hair turning bright pink. Mirai’s eyes widened in awe.

“Do it again,” Malleus called.

Idia sighed and continued.

“You’re summoning something,” Lilia shouted

“You’re dizzy,” Vil shouted.

“If I keep this up, I will be,” Idia muttered.

“Bzt,” Cater made a buzzing noise, crossing his arms over each other like an “X”, “No talking.”

“You’re a mushroom growing in the mountains,” Jade said, chuckling.

“Jade,” Floyd whined, “No more mushrooms.”

“You're a Ballerina,” Kalim shouted, pointing.

“Bees! You’re being chased by bees,” Rook shouted.

The room burst out laughing. Mirai laughed, falling over onto Cater, trying to hold himself together. Cater was no help, because he too was laughing, curling into Mirai.

Idia shook his head, hair growing even pinker.

“Tell us, just tell us,” Mirai said, snorting as he gasped for air, which earned him a cringe from Vil.

“I was dancing,” Idia muttered.

“What?! What?!” Jamil screamed, “You call that dancing?!”

Everyone burst out laughing. Idia huffed, face flushing as he sat back down.

“Yeah,” Leona, guffawed, “We definitely dance like we’re being attacked by bees.”

Everyone continued to laugh, the twins were resting on each other, Floyd unabashedly laughing loudly, and Jade had some courtesy to try and mask his laughing behind his closed fist, but it was futile, since his head was down and his soldiers were shaking.

“Guys c’mon,” Mirai soothed, still giggling, “he tried his best.”

“At least he got the bees,” Ruggie cackled.

Another round of laughter rang out.

Mirai scooted over to Idia passing him the bowl of lollipops, causing the third year to jump in his skin. He flushed as Mirai smiled at him.

Mirai felt a tug and was soon being pulled from Cater’s lap to Floyd’s.

“Hi Shrimpy,” Floyd said with a sly smile growing on his face.

“H-Hi Floyd,” Mirai stuttered. “Jade.”

Jade smiled, “Hello Prefect.”

Floyd rested his chin on the top of Mirai’s head, snaking his arms tightly around Mirai’s middle.

“Next is…,” Cater called, tapping at his phone, “Jamil!”

“Alright,” Jamil sighed.

Jamil took a slip of paper, and looked at it, he looked unimpressed.

“Seriously! Who came up with these?! How am I supposed to do this?!” Jamil shouted, walking up to the front.

Cater and Lilia laughed maniacally.

Jamil got on the floor, curling his arms to his head, before kicking his legs.

There was complete silence. Everyone just stared, confused at what he was trying to convey.

“Running Ballerina?” Lilia asked.

He shook his head.

“You’re an injured Ballerina,” Leona deadpanned.

Jamil glared at him.

“Ballerina stretching,” Riddle called.

“Ballerina swimming,” Floyd yelled.

“A Ballerina flying,” Kalim shouted.

“There are no Ballerinas,” Jamil screamed.

Everyone laughed.

“No talking,” Malleus reprimanded through a chuckle.

Jamil sighed, getting on the floor doing it again.

“You’re a bird of paradise, enacting its mating dance,” Rook said.

Leona groaned from the back.

“Do I look like-”

“Calm down Jamil,” Kalim and Cater soothed, blocking Jamil from Rook.

“An dying Orc! A dying Goblin! A dying Cave Spider,” Idia shouted from the back, words coming out wet and slurred through the blue lollipop in his mouth.

Jamil looked like he wanted to murder everyone in this room.

“Eat it or take it out your mouth,” Vil yelled, “It’s disgusting!”

Idia flushed, pulling the candy from between his lips.

“I don’t think there are any mobs this time around,” Mirai supplied, craning his neck around Floyd’s shoulder to look at Idia.

Idia looked surprised, while Vil looked confused.

“A what now?” Vil asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Not important right now,” Cater called.

Mirai jumped at the feel of long thin fingers carding themselves through the hair on the back of his neck. Since both of Floyd's hands were wrapped around Mirai’s body, he could guess it was most likely Jade.

“I got a couple of guesses I can think of,” Leona said slyly, mouth full of food.

Ruggie giggled, and Vil gagged.

“No Leona,” Riddle shouted, “Jamil, tell us before Leona says something crass!”

“Finally,” Jamil sighed, taking his seat, “I was a pair of scissors.”

“Now that you mention it, it does look like a pair of scissors,” Malleus muttered.

“Who put that in there?!” Riddle yelled.

Lilia cackled maniacally.

“Last one is,” Cater said, tapping at his phone, “Mirai.”

“Ugh,” Mirai groaned.

“No,” Floyd whined, “It’s my Shrimpy.”

“I gotta take my turn, Floyd,” Mirai reasoned.

“Floyd,” Jade called.

“Fine,” Floyd gruffed, letting go of the Magicless Prefect.

“Let’s get this over with,” Mirai muttered, taking a slip of paper.

Mirai whined once he read the slip of paper. Cater chuckled.

“I don’t wanna,” Mirai whined, dragging his feet to the front of the room.

Laughter rang out around the room.

“You have to, Boo,” Cater cooed.

Mirai put up one finger.

“One word,” Kalim said, and Mirai nodded.

Mirai was screaming internally, as he got on the floor and started worming his body in place.

Leona cackled from the back, pounding his fist on the floor.

“Stop it,” Mirai whined.

“Do it again! Do it again,” Floyd cackled.

“Ugh,” Mirai groaned, worming, and bouncing his straightened body on the floor.

“A Naga,” Idia yelled.

“A what?” Kalim asked, confused.

“He means a snake human, and no,” Mirai said.

“No talk-”

“I know, I know,” Mirai huffed doing it again.

“A caterpillar,” Rook guessed.

Mirai shook his head, shivering.

“A penguin,” Ruggie called.

“Please don’t tell me you're dancing too,” Jamil sighed.

“I’m pretty sure we can’t repeat words,” Riddle said thoughtfully.

“Please drop that,” Idia whined, shoving a handful of jelly beans into his mouth.

“You in heat or somethin’?” Leona asked.

“Leona,” Riddle, Vil, Azul, and Jamil yelled.

Idia made garbled noises from his corner, and Ruggie laughed.

“Leona,” Mirai screamed, face flushing beet red.

Leona guffawed, swatting his arms as Mirai chucked a stack of napkins at him.

“Ugh! Now I don’t wanna even continue doing this,” Mirai huffed, face still tinged with red, but he got down and did the motion again.

“Leona taking a nap,” Malleus chuckled.

Leona growled, “Malleus throwing a tantrum.”

“Guys,” Jamil chided.

“A toxic slug monster,” Idia guessed.

“A sea lion,” Azul hollered.

Mirai pointed at Azul and did it again.

“A walrus,” Jamil guessed.

“Am I that fat to you all?” Mirai laughed, pointing at Jamil.

“Cute as a button, Hon,” Cater sang.

“A dying fish?” Jade asked.

Mirai sighed, “Lemme…”

MIrai fixed his arm so that his hands poked from his sides and moved his torso and legs up and down at the same time.

“A dolphin,” Jade yelled.

Mirai pointed at Jade.

“A beached whale,” Lilia yelled.

“A whale,” the entire room yelled in unison.

“Finally,” Mirai groaned, grabbing a bottle of soda and chugging half of its contents.

“Eh? Shrimpy? How was that a whale?” Floyd asked in his usual drawl.

“I don’t know?!” Mirai yelled.

“I did look like a whale, Son of Man,” Malleus said, ruffling Mirai on the head.

“Yeah, once we figured it out,” Leona gruffed, “I still think it looked like he was in-”

“Leona! Finish that sentence and I will fight you,” Mirai yelled.

“Oh? The little Herbivore is gonna fight me?”

“Yep! I most likely will lose, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t try!”

Leona cackled, “Go on! Come at me!”

Mirai ran towards Leona only for him to stop Mirai with a palm to his face.

“Huh? That’s it?” Leona asked with a sly bored look on his face, “I’m not even trying.”

“Leona, leave him alone,” Riddle sighed.

“On the contrary, Red, the Herbivore started it,” Leona said, moving his grip on Mirai’s face.

“But he’s weaker than you, cut him some slack,” Trey chuckled.

“Eh? But messing with the small fry is fun,” Floyd drawled.

“That’s just sad,” Jamil said blankly.

“I wanna fight Leona too,” Kalim called, running over to Leona.

“Kalim!”

Leona just stuck up his other hand, and stuck on Kamil’s head, keeping him away. Although he had to actually try with Kalim, Leona still wasn’t making any effort.

“You guys are weak,” Leona sighed, “You’d never ma-”

Leona screamed, yanking his hands away from Kalim and Mirai’s faces, causing Kalim to fall forward. Jamil gasped, catching Kalim before he hit the floor and glared at Leona.

“The little runt licked my hand,” Leona shouted, whipping his hand on his pants.

Ruggie cackled.

Mirai gagged, making a sound akin to a gagging cat, whipping his face with his sleeves, “Ew! Your hand was sweaty!”

“Gross,” Vil gagged in disgust.

“Serves you right,” Leona huffed.

“As I said, Leona,” Mirai laughed, “Just because I will lose, doesn’t mean I didn’t try.”

Leona glared at Mirai as he chugged some more soda.

Kalim yawned and Floyd followed suit.

“It is quite late,” Azul commented looking at his watch, it read nine twenty-three.

“I’ll help clean up,” Mirai called.

“No need,” Cater said, “I got this.”

“But I don’t want you to have to do it by yourself.”

“Aww, you’re so sweet! But it’s no effort really, watch!”

Cater, Trey, Riddle, and Azul waved their magic pens and the napkins, plates and cups stacked themselves, the cakes, treats, and snack food covered themselves up, trash floated itself into the trash bag, throwing itself away, a broom came out of nowhere and began weeping the floor, ridding itself of the crumbs left behind. Mirai watched in childlike amazement as everything flew across the room, sparkling and glittering. Soon the food and extra party wear was packed in a duffle bag and the room looked perfect as ever.

Mirai clapped his hands at the display, sighing in awe, “That will never get old.”

“It’s nothing really,” Floyd said with a shrug.

“I’m not from here, so a simple card trick could amaze me.”

“Where you from?” Kalim chirped.

“America. California to be exact. We don’t have magic, Fae, Mers, or even Beastmen. Just plain old humans.”

“Wow,” Kalim muttered, amazement etched onto his face. “That sounds-”

“Different?” Jade asked.

“Creepy,” Floyd cringed.

“Boring,” Leona gruffed.

“Interesting?” Azul offered.

“Fun,” Kalim chirped.

“Compared to this place,” Mirai sighed, “Not really. Just being able to witness things like this could keep me entertained for the rest of my life.”

“Aw, aren't you precious,” Cater cooed, wrapping his arms around Mirai.

“But I wish I could do that, Ramshackle would be clean in no time,” Mirai huffed.

“Just tell me when, and I’ll come over and help,” Cater beamed.

“Thanks.”

“Me too,” Kalim volunteered.

“I’ll help as well,” Trey added.

“As I,” Riddle said with a smile.

“Well, I see you guys are getting along.”

Mirai yelped as the Headmage popped into existence.

“Good evening, Dear Boy. How was your first Housewarden meeting?” the Headmage asked, placing a hand on Mirai’s shoulder.

“It was fun,” Mirai chirped, “But I’m tired.”

“Yes, it is quite late,” the Headmage commented, “Alright, everyone is dismissed.”

Everyone filed out of the classroom as the Headmage locked up.

“Goodnight, Headmage,” Mirai said, waving to the birdman.

“Goodnight, Dear Boy,” the Headmage smiled, ruffling Mirai’s hair.

“Dear boy?” Jade asked.

Mirai just shrugged.

They all walked through the halls in relative silence. Leona yawned, stretching his arms over his head, Kalim and Jamil spoke quietly to each other, Trey, and Vil were chatting about sweets, and Azul and the twins were bantering with each other. Well, it was more like Floyd was picking on Azul again. Lilia and Malleus walked along with the rest of the group, Lilia for some reason wore a sly smirk on his face. Idia took up the rear, tapping away at his phone.

Walking past the school’s double doors, the cold of the night whipped them all in the face.

“Ugh,” Vil huffed, “I’m cold.”

“Take my jacket, Roi du Poison,” Rook said, taking off his blazer and wrapping it around Vil’s shoulders.

“Can’t we just fly back to the Hall of Mirrors?” Kalim whined.

“No flying allowed on campus after hours,” Riddle reminded.

“What about magic carpets?”

“No flying after hours.”

“Malleus, how come you’re walking with us, when you and Lilia can teleport?” Idia asked.

“And leave our dear Prefect alone to walk by himself? Absolutely not,” Lilia said with a smile.

“You can leave if you want, I’m used to walking back this late.” Mirai said, waving his hand.

“What in the Great Seven are you doing, out this late?!” Riddle asked, concerned.

Mirai laughed, “Not here, back at home, in my world. Although, it’s far safer here than back at home.”

“What were you doing out so late?” Cater asked curiously.

“I had work. Back at home, I’d work the night shift and most nights I didn’t get home until midnight, and still had to wake up at five in the morning.”

“You work?” Jamil asked, surprised.

“Mn,” Mirai nodded, “I graduated high school already, and I had to get money to pay for food and my phone somehow.”

The group was oddly quiet, but Mirai ignored it, he was used to the pitying looks he got. Mirai didn’t know about the lives of the people here in Twisted Wonderland, but his story was quite common back at home. The moment you were old enough, you got a job, and in Mirai’s case, his Aunt and Uncle made sure he remembered that.

The group made their way past the statues of the great seven, and down and past Sam’s Shop, where Sam was locking up for the night.

“Goodnight Sam,” Mirai called, waving.

“Goodnight Little Imps,” Sam bowed, tipping his hat.

And soon they were on the road to the Hall of Mirrors.

“This was fun,” Mirai said standing at the other side of the fork in the road.

“I forgot Ramshackle was on campus,” Cater said, “You sure you don’t want me to walk you?”

“I’m sure,” Mirai chuckled, “I’ll be fine. It’s just up the hill.”

Cater didn’t look convinced.

“But-” Kalim started, before yawning.

“Let’s get you to bed, Kalim,” Jamil said, ushering Kamil in the other direction.

“Let me take you,” Lilia offered, “I can just poof back to my dorm in a jiffy.”

“Nope. I can walk myself, but thank you for your concerns,” Mirai said, turning in the other direction.

“Bu-”

“Goodnight guys,” Mirai stressed, smiling as he waved a hand, walking up the road to Ramshackle.

The walk back to the Ramshackle Dorm was quiet, a good quiet, but it also was a little unnerving coming from a loud and rowdy setting to a quiet one. But Mirai was happy, giddy even. This was his new start, no ties, no connections, just the new life he was going to make, and he couldn’t wait for what tomorrow would bring.

10 notes · View notes

overbearingwatch · 2 years

Text

There’s something very mundane about the Overwatch headquarters, in all its white-walled, board-meeting stylings. There’s a hanger of decommissioned fighter jets at the edge of the compound and no-longer-state-of-the-art training bots around every corner, sure, but ultimately, it feels distinctly like an office building: large and imposing and full of conferences rooms and little, unused cubicles.

Fareeha has never worked in an office building before so it’s an entirely foreign environment to her. She’s also never slept in one. Laying on a cot under a long, slim air vent, listening to the carefully curated sound of nothing is enough to make anyone go a little stir crazy, especially when unaccustomed to the white noise, and Fareeha feels a bit that way now, finding nothing particularly remarkable in the pox of the off-white industrial ceiling tiles nor the dizzying fuzz of static on the radio - the last show of the evening off-air.

Winston had call this room a dorm - her dorm; Fareeha suspects it was at one point a manager’s office. The view is nice, though. She’s on the tenth level with a floor-to-ceiling window out of which the stars are gleaming and the snow makes it looks like the sun has just set, though it’s been down for hours and hours.

Upon her cursory inquiries the day she arrived, Fareeha learned that, in the interest of giving all recruits an adequate amount of personal space, each floor had only been assigned two or three recall agents - with the understanding that more might be assigned as others joined. Currently, Fareeha shares the tenth floor with Angela Ziegler and no one else.

At times, it feels like Fareeha has the floor only to herself.

In the first month, Angela had been a constant fixture, taking up much of the east wing. She’d knocked out all non essential walls and broken the space up into four rather large labs with a small room Fareeha could only assume was her dorm squirreled into the furthest corner of the floor. The first month she did physicals on all the new recruits and as a result Fareeha often ran into Angela when she ventured into the communal space of the west side of the floor to greet people as they came up. During this time, Fareeha also met a not insignificant number of her new colleagues. After physicals were complete, however, Angela’s willingness to leave the labs vanished, as did Fareeha’s chances of seeing her.

Unofficially, that made the west side of the floor more or less Fareeha’s, and with all that space all Fareeha had managed to do was take down a few cubical walls the directly blocked the windows; and even then, mostly for practical purposes, just to allow a bit more sunshine. All other cubical remained up, as did the unused office chairs, cords, and unclaimed personal items of the previous occupants. Fareeha had never been one for interior design, nor had she ever really had a place to decorate in a fashion matching her personality.

To be honest, Fareeha thought, and her mood soured considerably with it, she wasn’t even sure if she had a personality to express. She’d spent so much of her life following orders and living in structured settings, perhaps there was nothing left which desired for the sake of desiring.

Fareeha sighed and stood from her cot. She wasn’t getting any sleep, that much was clear, and there was a new coffee pot in an old break room which was calling to her.

She picked up the handheld radio, retuning as she walked towards the coffee pot, as she made some, as she added cream and as she walked back to one of the rolling office chairs situated outside of her dorm/office, in front of the windows she was beginning to like so much; finally, she landed on an early morning talk show.

The host sounded young (a lifetime’s worth of listening to the radio lead Fareeha to conclude that only new hires handled spots at such bad hours) and exhausted, but she spoke with passion about some viral cat video or other and Fareeha conceded that it wasn’t hard to find someone entertaining when they clearly spoke from a place of interest.

Fareeha imagined what topics she might try chatting about had she been a radio host and not a pilot. Perhaps multilingualism, as a polyglot that was something she found deeply interesting, or boardgames, which might reach a wider audience and connect with the crowd of people who enjoyed but no longer had time for such hobbies. People like her, who woke up at 3 in the morning searching for a connection over airways with strangers who’d never even know, and had not touched Ticket to Ride or Catan since the latter had been set ablaze by a drunk squad mate three years ago in India.

“Ah Fareeha,” comes a voice from behind her that is not the radio.

Fareeha turns to Angela, who is in a lab coat and tennis shoes, and Angela looks at Fareeha, who is in a sports bra and Overwatch-branded shorts. She says “I hope you don’t mind, I stole some of your coffee.”

“Not at all,” Fareeha responds. Angela smiles.

“It’s just, I can’t pass up the smell of coffee in the morning, and I’d run out.”

“Well,” says Fareeha, “I suppose now I know how to get you out of that lab if I ever need you.”

Angela laughs an airy, exhausted laugh and comes to stand beside Fareeha’s swiveling office chair. She holds a mug to her lips and blows delicately over the top, staring out into the snowy landscape but with words tuned to Fareeha.

“I do spend a lot of time in there, don’t I?”

Fareeha fears she may have insulted the woman and is quick with her repair.

“It wasn’t a barb doctor, just poking a bit of fun.”

Angela looks down at her and grins, “oh I know, captain, I’ve got a sense for your humor.”

This surprises Fareeha. “Have you?” She asks. Fareeha thinks it would be hard to, having not spoken to each other much these past few months and before that since they were both brats of Overwatch, but perhaps she’s easy to read. She’s never asked.

“I think so, yes,” she says, but doesn’t elaborate.

The truly infuriating thing is that Angela Ziegler is absolutely stunning standing there with her easy smile and tired eyes.

“This is nice,” says Angela.

“Hmm?”

“The view and morning coffee.”

_______

This is just a wip; I have, like, big plans but who knows when I’ll write it so I guess have this

#pharmercy #pharah #mercy

40 notes · View notes

balillee · 3 years

Text

my unpopular dsmp opinions, some of which genuinely should be popular

c!dream has crossed the moral event horizon and is irredeemable. once you cross that threshold, you're no longer a 'morally grey' character.

pre-recorded, heavily produced lore killed the lore. it was cool, sure, but you completely misunderstand the magic that the smp had when people watched it initially. the story is improv and that's how we like it. we can tell the cc's have lost interest in it, you can admit that to us, we'll understand, just stop lying to me.

c!dream's pov isn't necessary to understand his character or his motivations. if you've watched literally any c!primeboys stream he's basically spelled it out for you.

i don't understand how fans can dislike l'manberg or have claimed to be against it since the beginning. i honestly don't get it. what's so bad about wanting your own spot where you make your own rules and skirt accountability that has been used to technically oppress you before - and, before someone who never saw the earlier streams tries to disagree with this, the og l'manberg crew were imprisoned for shit that everyone else on the server was practically encouraged to do. also, what do you have against fun and happiness?

i think some of you forget that 'hybrids' aren't a thing, discounting c!ranboo. there's no piglin hybrids, c!techno is just a pig. there's no avian hybrids, c!phil is just a man with wings. there's no creeper hybrids, c!sam is just a creeper who's indecently exposed from the hips down. canonically there's no hybrids, and therefore no hybrid discrimination. people ran with that concept too much.

the loss and the fanon rewriting of the early lore up until pogtopia has ruined fandom perception of c!dream and the og l'manberg boys. c!tommy is more morally white than you think he is, and c!dream has always been a villain - he massacres and he kills and he destroys and he schemes and he always has broken his own rules. no wonder the boys wanted their own space after how they were treated.

i think ranboo oftentimes forgets his own lore. he brings stuff up that c!ranboo may have done, such as exploding the community house to frame c!tommy, holding onto Cat, and it goes absolutely nowhere. we've gotten all of these developments in his story but they have never been expanded on, and we're nowhere closer to figuring out his relationship to c!dream and what his other side is and honestly i see no hope that we'll be any closer to knowing even by the end of the year.

your characters don't all have to be morally grey for the story itself to be morally grey. this is fiction - some people can be nothing but evil and others can be nothing but good. being purely good or evil doesn't mean that you're one dimensional, either.

c!dream apologists have ruined c!dream for me. he's not a good person. how about you let me enjoy a villain for who he actually is, rather for than your percieved woobified ragdoll you pass off as c!dream.

the story was better when there was a central writer. it was brilliant back when wilbur wrote it to be that the environment drives the characters and the story, and it was really good in early s2 up until techno's execution day when it was more character driven. since then, the amount of autonomy people have over their characters without any central 'director', as it were, has been a detriment to the story overall. there needs to still be one overarching figure or director or writer.

not everyone is a main character. just because they have a pov, doesn't mean they're a main character. some characters have such little impact on the overall plot and describing everyone as a main character oversaturates the story and makes some characters seem more important than they are.

the egg lore had so much potential up until it didn't. all that built up threat that we were expecting and we still don't even know what the egg wants really other than just controlling people. does it hatch?

genuinely, if there's no major plot developments by the end of the year (and let's be honest, it's a very big possibility at this point), a few of the more prominent members of the server should do a podcast style stream talking about where the story would have gone, because at least then we would have gotten somewhat closer to a conclusion.

c!techno is a villain and an asshole and a bad person. he stops caring for people once their interests don't align with his or if they look at him funny. he makes meta-jokes about his own tyrannical and oppressive nature. stop taking that away from him. he's a bad person. cc!techno does a fabulous job portraying that in a comedic manner and the balancing of him being a deeply flawed person with deeply flawed morals and ideas with his comedically-portrayed stubbornness and lack of willingness to hear out opposing viewpoints is incredible. i want to like characters who are arseholes for the sake of being arseholes, and who refuse to take into account the hurt they've caused either out of self-righteousness or because they don't care, so let me. he's the anti-peacemaker, LET ME HIM ENJOY HIM FOR THAT!!!!

i think tommy and wilbur's way of doing lore is my favourite. relies heavily on improv, voice acting, sprite acting and facial expressions. really shows off the acting props and they pull off the emotional moments well for the insanity of the creative medium.

i'm not a fan of fan-music. i find songs about media i'm into difficult to listen to. coincidentally i'm also not a fan of shit like slam poetry or live music/musicals/pantomimes.

the death of l'manberg killed people's motivation to go on the server casually. i've talked about it more in depth before, but destroying what was a central, driving environment for the story killed momentum and motivation. imagine in an episode of she-ra, the princess alliance just nuke the freight zone and all of the members of the horde just have to deal with it. that would be shit.

until season 3 has some momentum, i'm counting the end of the smp as january 20th. that had a conclusion. season 3 has... whores, technoblade and tommyinnit. that's about it.

i wasn't a fan of the development of c!tubbo joining las nevadas. i preferred snowchester and the walled city conflict. give c!tubbo some backbone and some badassery. also tubbo where's the fucking nuke bro if you're shelving that plotline just tell us on like an alt stream what the plan was i beg

add like 2 or 3 new people to the server so that michael mcchill has someone to talk to and so that there's something always happening on the server. it gives the og's more motivation to return if things are happening in and out of canon and it'll help with momentum, and who knows? maybe they can write their own story/stories.

i really think that c!sam is an underrated character. he's multilayered, extremely interesting, and the dichotomy of his loyalty to his job and how far down the rabbithole that's taken him versus the genuine love he has for his friends that drives him to do what he does out of wanting to do right by them is brilliant. i don't talk about c!sam enough.

STOP HAVING FUCKING VILLAIN ARCS!!! I'M FUCKIN SICK OF IT!!!! i want to see more characters who see everyone else being absolute selfish, abhorrent cunts and go 'if nobody else is going to be a good person, i fucking will'. GIVE ME SOME MORAL WHITENESS!!! IT'S INTERESTING AND MORALLY GOOD CHARACTERS ARE FUN!!!

let tommyinnit build cobblestone towers. everyone bullied him too much for how ugly they were and the one he built outside of the prison looked genuinely really nice. it gives the boy something to do.

i'm a fan of the revive book and the canon lives system. don't ask me why, but i think it might just be the morbidity of it. it adds to c!dream's god complex persona, and i think the fragility of death itself is a really fun concept. not enough fan cc's have made connections with that and c!mumza, and it could make for cool fanfic.

ranboo your house is fucking ugly. it's an eyesore

c!niki, and to some extent now c!jack and c!fundy, are boring me and ruining my mood. i think c!jack is the closest to being an actually interesting sympathetic villain, mainly because nobody else seems to realise that c!niki is a villain. not a good one imo, but she's a villain. c!jack just has the problem of starting a new project over and over and over and over again and because of the slow in momentum for the primary cast, there hasn't been a lot of recent development for him.

not really a dream smp opinion, but if philza went full geordie accent, i would love it. i want him to, in canon, say shit like 'me n ye' instead of 'me and you' and use geordie dialect. i want him to be physically unintelligible because it's funny.

i don't really know what's up with c!foolish but i think he's a dumbass. he had a while to think about c!q's proposal and then changed his mind about joining the guy to admitted to letting him die just because. moron

i wish there was more c!eret lore. i wish he was an actual king with an actual kingdom and actual subjects and royal advisors. c!eret is far too fucking cool to be the king of nothing and nobody. fatten up the kingdom and the castle with people who work with c!eret, and don't just make it tyrannical and dictator-y to prove the point of the server's 'anarchists'. make it a healthy working environment, please - if you want moral greyness, have 'anarchists' who claim to care about the welfare of the server oppose a kingdom of happy people under a fair and just ruler because their ideologies clash.

the server needs more characters who oppose anarchy in more peaceful ways, or passively wish for systems to be a part of. i think a chaos vs order conflict ending only in mutual understanding where everyone understands that they should just leave each other alone would slot nicely into the story that's been created so far.

you need to have watched all of the previous arcs to understand the story. i've seen people argue that they don't need to know about earlier lore to understand the prison, but that's the equivalent of only watching the final season of pretty little liars and expecting to understand the context of what's going on.

some characters aren't that morally grey. some characters, take c!tommy for example, are definitely on the whiter side for the morality scale, he's just an asshole. he's abrasive and rude and a dickhead but he also doesn't agree with terrorism, he's patriotic, he strives for a better world, he's apologetic, but he's also a fucking BITCH.

you can add onto this if you want, but not if you're a c!dream apologist. nobody likes your opinions

#dream smp #dsmp #esclaposhitpost

79 notes · View notes

shepherds-of-haven · 3 years

Note

If characters had a Game of Thrones style house banner and motto, what would they be?

Ooh, this is an interesting one!

House Bronwyn: "The Darkness Answers" or "Weapons in the Silent Night" - a silver wolf on a field of black, with a white blade piercing the background. Their house is known for operating as a kind of shadow military that influences and directs things from the shadows, and although the wolf has connotations of solitude and aloofness, they are actually extremely loyal "pack-animals" who form a tight-knit clan and unwaveringly answer the call of duty... no matter how bloody their hands may get from answering.

House Alder: "First in the Charge" or "Our Fury Shakes Them" - a gold lion roaring rampant on a field of red (so, yeah, Gryffindor I guess!). This one is fairly self-explanatory--the Alder house is known by others to produce some of the fiercest and most courageous warriors, though they also have a reputation for being brash and hot-headed. Alder soldiers are always sent in to "hold the line" and are infamous for never abandoning the field or retreating, even when it leads to certain death. "Our Fury Shakes Them" also refers to their propensity to use cannon-fire and gun blasts to destroy their enemies.

House Ironwood: "Our Roots Run Deep" or "The First, The Last, The Eternal" - a golden oak tree on a forest-green banner with a trim of autumn red. Their house is among the oldest and was once known as one of the most powerful military forces on the Continent, with a cadre of skilled Elven knights being produced by that house, but as time went on and the world changed, the house fell into semi-obscurity or became more known for its archival work and love of history, causing some to look down on it as a house of scholars. Whenever they try to invoke the promises and alliances of old, others roll their eyes at House Ironwood's unwillingness to change and adapt to the world around it. As a result, House Ironwood tends to isolate itself from other houses, swearing only to trust their own kind. Their current scion gets them into a lot of trouble for challenging an heir of a Norm house to a duel for slandering the name of House Ironwood, and then killing him in the ensuing standoff. This has led to military reprisals against House Ironwood, and they find themselves in a precarious position of being surrounded by enemies and having isolated former friends.

House Acquell: "Faith is a Shield and Love the Cure" or "Many Hearts Beating as One" - a Celtic-looking knot or a chain of hands interlocking around a heart. This house is looked down upon by more militaristic houses for being a generally trusting, pacifistic house. Its holdings are small and its lineage is quite new, but the house is beloved by its own people due to its scions working as healers, clerics, and devotees of charity, often seen among the streets of their city and passing out food and coin. House Acquell is an extremely religious house, and many of its heirs and heiresses join the Church to become priests and priestesses. The founder of the house was first canonized as a saint.

House Syndran: "Out of Cruelty, Justice" or "The Cunning Conquer" - a black crow or raven spreading its wings on a field of royal purple. This house was built on mercantile roots, but its influence now stretches far and wide, reaching into all matters of business, politics, intrigue, and even war. Its scions are famed for their ruthlessness and willingness to go completely scorched-earth on their enemies, and for their ability to lie and manipulate even nominal allies with completely straight faces. The house leader always bears a gold-capped walking cane. Although its military power is weak, it makes up for it with the host of allies under its economic control. You can always make out the Syndrans at a party by the cadre of serious-faced, dark-haired heirs staring at the proceedings like they're a play under watchful critique. Although not known for being friendly, House Syndran also prides itself on impeccable etiquette and manners.

House Trinaeste: "If I Am Not Free, Then I Am Dead" or "Many Skills, Many Virtues" - a black cat on a field of gold, with two crossed daggers in the background and a key lying at its feet. The "Many Skills, Many Virtues" motto is something of an in-joke, because this house is known for its willingness to train its heirs in even unsavory skills--such as thievery and seduction--in order to ensure their survival. Many heirs are sent to special training at a secret academy on an island south of Conte--though what they are taught there, no one but the Trinaestes knows for sure. As such, this house is shunned by many for its unorthodox values and behavior, and not much is known about the inner workings of the house itself. The heirs and heiresses all seem like empty-headed fops who love to chase skirts (or whatever article of clothing they so desire), so no one ever takes them seriously... but that's their mistake, because House Trinaeste actually has the greatest network of spymasters and intelligence operatives this world has ever seen. They apparently have a lot of bastard children or sometimes even unrelated orphans whom they happily accept into their house anyway, which is another reason why the other houses shun them. They also supposedly have some ties to seafarers and pirates as well as a fleet of ships at their disposal.

House Antiqua: "The Road Not Taken" or "The World to Roam" - a golden globe on a field of deep scarlet/maroon/magenta, though from certain angles, the globe can also like the sun or moon (or all three). House Antiqua is composed of just straight up scholars. Sometimes a second son or a third daughter goes into military service or serves in a great battle and makes a distinction of themselves, but it's never on the level of an Alder, Bronwyn, Aescar, or Stormbreaker. By and large, they're known as a house of oddly-attractive, well-born nerds, more fodder for marriages and families rather than candidates that could bring about great change. They don't really get much of a say in anything among the greater houses, but that suits them just fine. They're like the classic Jane Austen-style families where they just hang out and read books and entertain visitors sometimes LMAO. They are neither very rich nor destitute; neither isolated nor up in everyone's business. They are on friendly terms with most houses, but no one takes them all that seriously when it comes to important matters like war or politics. They are known to serve as advisors and consultants in times of need, however. Many of their heirs leave the house and travel across the world using secret identities when they reach a certain age; it's something of a cliché among their inner circle. They eventually develop strong ties to House Syndran after one son casually beats the Syndran heir in chess during a party.

House Aescar: "The Wind is With Us" or "It Is Us Who Fly" - a tan flying eagle with a serpent-like staff clutched in its talons, soaring on a field of light blue. House Aescar is known for its terrifying use of theatrics in order to instill fear into the hearts of their enemies on the battlefield. They utilize war paint, war chants and screams, and unsettling war horns in order to rev up their soldiers before battle. Like House Alder, they have a reputation for not having a head for politics; they'd prefer you to just point them at the enemy and let them do their thing, and they have little patience for the trappings of politics and diplomacy. If the Continent were divided up into wards where certain houses were in charge of defending the borders from invasion, House Aescar would be the guardians of the West; House Prince, House Ironwood, and House Bronwyn would the guardians of the North; House Stormbreaker, House Trinaeste, and House Syndran would be the guardians of the South; and House Alder, House Antiqua, and House Naveen would be the guardians of the East. The fact that House Aescar is tasked with guarding the West alone is a point of pride for its heirs and scions. The youth of the house tends to be charged with going on a pilgrimage throughout their lands to observe how the common folk live. They are expected to return with worthwhile thoughts or findings about how to improve the house or its holdings, and if their opinions are interesting and well-thought-out, they are allowed a voice in the house's governing council.

House Prince: "Keepers of the North" or "Righteous in Wrath" or "Darkness Flees Our Light" - a white spear with a white shield behind it, radiating rays of light on a field of black. Not much is known about House Prince, except that its current heirs are a set of twin boys. Its military force is known for being utterly loyal, almost to the point of fanaticism, and the house has close ties to House Bronwyn due to their proximity to each other. House Prince is known among the other houses for being insistent on keeping its bloodlines pure and marrying its heirs to the Hunter scions of other close-knit families or even distant cousins, leading some to joke surreptitiously that the house is "incestuous." At one point in time, the older twin heir of the current generation disappeared for a year or two, forcing his brother to assume the guise of both twins to prevent the house from looking weaker to its outside enemies. Certain heirs of the Prince House are said to be cursed with a mysterious affliction that causes them to fall into fits of madness and rage, especially at the sight of blood, and for these reasons, many of them live in reclusive isolation in their castle, rarely seen by the outside world.

House Stormbreaker: "Thunder and Lightning" or "The Storm Stands Vigilant" or "From the Stars We Came, To the Stars We Rise" - a golden, starry ship sailing on a teal sea as lightning splits the banner in half and a dragon swims underneath the ship. House Stormbreaker is among the most sought-after houses for its explosive military prowess and strength, affording it a lot of political and negotiating power. Its heirs and scions are known to be gifted with extraordinary strength and a strange knack for avoiding almost certain death, serving with distinction as battlemasters, generals, and occasionally as knights and champions. A legendary sword is said to be passed from leader to leader, with no one but those of pure Stormbreaker blood being able to even pick the sword up. They are also known as a clan of sailors and are able to deploy their own naval fleet to defend the coastline as needed. Although they have a ferocious, proud, and hot-tempered reputation, heirs of the Stormbreaker house are sometimes not taken seriously in matters of court due to their strange pink hair. Despite this, scions of House Stormbreaker are among the most sought-after candidates for marriage, as people desire their mysterious superstrength and magic to be incorporated into their own houses. However, for reasons unknown, the House Stormbreaker is extremely strict with such marriages, and arrangements are often made three or more generations ahead of time in a careful curation of the bloodline.

House Naveen: "Gold in Peace, Steel in War" or "Not Without Thorns" - a scarlet rose on a field of lavender with two crossed rapiers in the background. House Naveen is the most powerful and influential of all of the Houses when it comes to sheer political power, rivalled only by House Syndran. Its military strength is only better than average, but its holdings, wealth, and political connections are vast and storied. Its current heiress is infamous for refusing suitors and continually denying her father's attempts to secure a marriage, focusing instead on joining chivalric orders and continually maneuvering situations in House Naveen's favor. House Naveen holds the honor of being among the last houses to continue ancient traditions such as jousting and knightly tournaments, but it's their celebrations and social occasions that the house is truly known for. The Naveens are said to employ a spy in the servants of every house aside from House Bronwyn, Prince, and Ironwood. What they do with that information, however, no one knows. On the surface, the Naveen house seems to be largely magnanimous and benign... Interestingly, they have offered an extension of aid to House Ironwood to get out of its dueling problem, but so far, House Ironwood has not given a reply.

House Naveen has also been largely matriarchal in the past, something that still informs its power structure to this day. This makes it a target of scorn by other powerful and male-led noble houses (such as House Eddon, Auberon's house), but it's something that the Naveens flaunt proudly with the rose as their insignia!

#Shepherds of Haven #sorry I don't know game of thrones LGJRGJR I don't know why I felt the need to give backstory but I guess I always do #motto #heraldry #house motto #banner #banners #mottos #all characters #game of thrones #game of thrones AU #?#AU #i never watched it and didn't like the first book when I was like 14 so don't @ me with details i don't know anything!!#tw: incest mention

84 notes · View notes

justmaybee · 3 years

Text

The Phantom’s New Clothes

(Alternatively: ‘I Like Ya Fit, G!’)

A/N: Yes, the spam is gonna end in a dumb fic. No, I’m not confident in posting it. But honestly? I don’t think I’ll ever be when it comes to Fling Posse. So I’m doing it anyways! Because Gen looks like a whole prince, and if I don’t start somewhere I’ll never be able to write them!

Summary: Fling Posse photo shoot time! ~ ☆ and Dice has taken a special interest in Gentaro’s outfit for the day….

Of the many things required by divisions during battle season, one ‘checkpoint’—so to speak—is the creation of promotional materials. A Chuohku-designated event, ‘asked’ of the representative teams from each district.

This is Fling Posse’s second time representing Shibuya, so Gentaro is more or less acquainted with the roadmap ahead of them. And as a group member—and friend—of one Ramuda Amemura, he’s quite used to the mild discomfort of modeling clothes far outside his comfort zone.

Though it had at first been a point of contention in the group—due to some very polarized creative decisions—Gentaro has grown into his role, just a bit. He may never go so far as to call himself a ‘model,’ but he’s done much stranger tasks for the sake of his posse.

Thankfully, this shoot leans decidedly into Gentaro’s style of choice. Unlike Ramuda’s last artistic venture, which had involved a bright yellow top in an aquarium of all settings, this outfit could be described as almost tame in comparison.

The blouse is a loose and flowing white number, tucked into a similar style of black pants. A little tighter to his waist than he’d prefer, but the fabric is soft and stretches down to his ankle—for the most part—so it’ll do. The addition of some colored cords to secure an ash grey cape around his shoulders finishes the look, and Gentaro hums an appreciative note when Ramuda shows him the full look in a mirror.

Ramuda seemed pleased, smoothing out Gentaro’s cape and tucking stubborn hairs back into place before flashing him a grin and bouncing off to help Dice finish dressing.

It’s comfortable, fashionable, and well-suited to his tastes. Gentaro must say, it’s one of his favorite designs from Ramuda so far.

That being said—there’s…one small thing he could recommend be changed.

It doesn’t occur to him until the picture taking is about to begin.

———

“Ya think Ramuda will let me keep it?” Dice asks, impish grin flashing his canine. He pops the collar, striking small poses as the dressing room around them clears out. Gentaro humors him.

He takes his time, stepping forward from behind Dice, peering over his shoulder at their shared reflection. His hand comes to rest on his chin, scrutinizing the tropical pattern with a deliberate trail of the eyes. He continues until Dice’s gaze lowers, until his hands start fidgeting in front of him.

Gentaro finally breaks with a smile, resting his chin on Dice’s shoulder. He can feel the way Dice sags with relief.

“It’s very likely that he will,” Gentaro muses. “This outfit was made specifically for you, and I’m not sure anyone else would wear it willingly.”

Dice nods in a small repetitive motion, absentmindedly checking his reflection in the mirror. The moment he comes to recognize Gentaro’s backhanded confirmation is both visible and audible. His body jolting upright with a pitchy ‘hey!’ tossed back over his shoulder. Gentaro hides a smile behind his hand.

“Oh, Dice. There’s no need to be insecure,” He coos. “From what I’ve heard, sustainable fashion is on the rise! This set may have been a curtain at some point, but your confidence in it is very admirable.”

Dice has that tight-lipped smile on, the one that pushes his cheeks up and makes his squinty faux-glare even more endearing. It says, ‘I know I’m being made fun of,’ but he continues to endure it anyways. Because it makes Gentaro smile.

Still, he’s come a long way since the early days of Fling Posse, and he won’t take things lying down if he can help it. So he sneaks his hand behind him, aiming a light pinch to Gentaro’s side; his comeback of choice since learning of Gentaro’s…sensitivity.

Unlike those recent times, Gentaro quickly back steps, pulling his head off Dice’s shoulder to smother a gasp behind a well-timed fist. Dice blinks, hand still hovering behind him in the empty air where Gentaro once stood.

Then he spins around; the biggest, toothy grin on his face.

Gentaro can feel the butterflies slowly flutter to life in his stomach. His free arm moves subconsciously, to wrap around his front and hide his torso. The longer they hold eye contact, the more his face begins to burn.

And then the photographer can be heard, calling Dice for photos.

They stay in place, gazes locked for a moment longer; then Dice shoots him a wink and jogs off.

Gentaro breathes a shaky sigh, rubbing away the phantom touch.

———

So yes, while it was obvious the outfit had less layers than Gentaro was accustomed to, he hadn’t realized just how much thinner the layers he wore were.

Photo shoots don’t have a lot of downtime, in his experience. There’s always group shots, touch ups, individual shots. While it’s undoubtedly ‘Posse Time’—as Ramuda would put it—he doesn’t get more than a passing word to either of his group mates at any one time.

Which make the times he runs into Dice all the more memorable.

Slipping past one another in the hallway when it’s Gentaro’s turn for solo shots. Gentaro feels a distinct skittering of nails over his flank. It has him stumbling, tripping on his own feet. He can hear Dice laugh as he straightens up and continues walking.

Getting his hair touched up, making sure his pesky bangs stay out of his face. Dice comes to watch for a while, leaving Gentaro with a quick pinch either side of his waist. He jolts so hard, the hair on his left side falls out of place. He mumbles an apology to the poor stylist, eyeing Dice’s retreating smile in the mirror.

In a moment to himself, Gentaro tries to retuck his blouse, smooth out the uneven bunching of ruffles. He doesn’t notice when Dice slips behind him, when he grips onto Gentaro’s hips—too easily accessible through these pants—and squeezes. Gentaro yelps, drops to a crouch to dislodge the ticklish pulses. When he turns with narrowed-eyes, he finds himself alone.

Although Dice has been able to startle a reaction out of him several times today, calling these occurrences ‘uncommon’ would be nothing short of a lie. In his extended stay at Gentaro’s apartment, Dice has been very — thorough in his exploits of Gentaro’s unending sensitivity. One could say that once he got a reaction, he couldn’t will himself to stop.

Also a lie. Well, a half-truth to be more precise.

While it had been Dice’s curiosity and willingness to take a chance that led to the discovery, he didn’t act on his newfound information much at all. While a very physically affectionate lover, he would never go so far as to touch Gentaro in a way that caused discomfort or distress.

No, absolutely not. And so despite many implicit hints and invitations, Gentaro found himself having to get very explicit.

He didn’t dislike Dice’s teasing touch.

No, quite the opposite actually.

It was flustering to a degree Gentaro couldn’t imagine, but…Dice got the message.

He got it loud and clear, and now here they are.

In a game of cat and mouse; Gentaro’s eyes darting toward every movement, hands enveloping his torso at the slightest noise. The fabric on his skin is light, breathable, and silky to the touch; impossible to ignore. His stomach swoops nervously, broiling with anticipation—borderline excitement.

Oh, the monster he’s created.

———

After two hours of lights, cameras, make up, hair, and such; things are finally starting to wrap up.

Gentaro can see the end’s approach easily due to experience. It always comes in the form of Ramuda’s name. Called out by a weary photographer and followed in turn by their leader’s sing-song reply, skipping happily out of the dressing room and into the limelight.

Ramuda’s solo shots are always saved for the end. One must save the best for last, of course.

That being so, it would be a good idea to begin making preparations to leave.

Gentaro can feel the pinpricks in his legs as he slides them off the dressing room couch, uncurling from his seated position. He kicks out, pointing his toes in a stretch, arching his back and spine. The relief pushes a quiet sigh from his lips, leaves him sagging back into the cushions for a moment, suddenly drained.

Time spent in the presence of others can already be tiring, but the looming eyes of Chuohku make things far more intense. Gentaro can find peace in having his posse with him, but the sooner he can get these clothes folded, the sooner he gets his regular attire back—the sooner he’ll be home and out from under the Party’s prying gaze.

It takes Gentaro a few attempts to rise to his feet. His center of balance equals out as Dice makes his way into the room. The timing is very lucky, Gentaro gets barely a greeting out before his arm is in Dice’s hold. Before he’s swung around, in a blur of cobalt blue and floral print.

His back hits the wall with a dull thud. Not hard enough to hurt—Dice would never—but enough to have his breath catch in his throat. The way Dice leans into Gentaro’s personal space—hand still firmly gripped around his wrist, pinning it to the wall beside his head—makes getting air back a bit difficult.

“Hey Gen,” Dice breathes, a soft smile on his lips that completely contradicts the situation, and makes Gentaro melt all the more for it.

“Hello, Dice.” Gentaro’s hesitation is hardly noticeable.

“Whatcha up to?”

It’s so casual — the way Dice speaks, despite their position which has Gentaro’s brain buzzing like radio static. Strangely, it’s somewhat placating, in a way.

“Well — I’d intended on tidying up while Ramuda’s away…” Gentaro musters up a teasing smile, a lighthearted jab. “If you’re attempting to have me fold your clothes for you, I’m afraid I’ll have to stop you right there—”

Dice laughs. The sound does strange things to Gentaro’s heartbeat. Difficult to miss while it thrums so vividly in his ears.

“No, not that.” Dice smiles. Gentaro can’t help but return it.

“But could I—uh—do one thing? Before you go?”

Gentaro can take a fairly good guess at what Dice is referring to.

He shuffles, wrist rotating the smallest bit in Dice’s hold. His grip is strong, warm, and noticeably firm. Dice hasn’t moved, not an inch from his close lean over Gentaro, but he’s suddenly all that Gentaro can see, smell, feel.

He’s trapped.

It’s invigorating.

Gentaro is somewhat proud of the light, careless hum he gets out. A flippant roll of the eyes before his gaze meets Dice’s.

“Oh fine, if you must.”

Dice laughs again. Gentaro feels that familiar swooping sensation.

“I’ve been dyin’ to do this all day.”

Despite the unaffected air Gentaro puts off, his body is already tensed up in wait. Free hand poised to the side, ready to fend off Dice’s experienced fingers. His waist, hips, stomach; they’re all compromised in this outfit, leaving him more vulnerable than even his home loungewear would allow. It’s anyone’s guess as to where Dice may strike.

Which makes it extra shocking when Dice suddenly drops Gentaro’s wrist. When he slips both hands, with a pre-planned speed, into the gaps of Gentaro’s billowing sleeves and under his outstretched arms.

Gentaro is able to clamp his lips together before Dice’s fingers make contact. It makes muffling his surprised shout marginally easier. The same can’t be said for his limbs.

Before he can even think about it, Dice has found his rhythm, spidering feather-light strokes beneath his arms. His fingertips are gentle, calloused, and so very effective in their unpredictable movements.

Gentaro’s shoulders lock up. He chokes back the bubbling wave of laughter, then clamps his arms down in attempted self-defense.

Immediately after, his spine snaps off the wall. Thrusting his torso flush against Dice, leaning in to cover him. He tosses his head back, a squeaky cry pathetically stifled as the feelings grow exponentially.

It takes all of Gentaro’s remaining brainpower to lessen the pressure of his arms against his sides, to bring his elbows a centimeter out from his waist. Because when he tries blocking Dice’s fingers—

Gentaro bites his lip against a particularly loud squeal; Dice using one finger on each hand to vibrate into the center of each hollow. Oh, please.

—when he tries to guard himself, he just pushes Dice’s fingers deeper.

“Mph! D-Dice!”

It’s debilitating. Dice rarely has access to his bare skin in most situations, but this may very well be a first for both of them. The skittering touch under his arms has Gentaro squirming, shaking. Every time his arms twitch down to stop it, he’s stuck muffling louder laughter at the added pressure he’s made for himself.

It’s all Gentaro can do to hold as still as possible; minimize the jerky, impulsive movements. But it’s so hard, and he’s quickly losing the battle with his volume as well.

What were once small, nondescript sounds are now squeaking—almost whining—noises. As Dice continues his careful track, sweeping soft fingers around and around and around each twitching hollow.

It takes Dice vocalizing aloud to get Gentaro to lift his head from the wall, blink one teary eye open and get a look at him.

Dice is smiling sweetly—no doubt a much nicer look than the hot flush and wobbly smile Gentaro’s trying to control—with his head tilted to the side. It leaves his neck and shoulder open, right at Gentaro’s head level.

He takes the invitation for what it is.

Gentaro quickly buries his face into the side of Dice’s neck. If he had the mind to think and the hindsight to see, he might have considered if this was well-meant aid or a well-sprung trap. It really depends how much credit Gentaro decides to give Dice. His scheming side is somewhat lacking.

Either way, it makes things much more manageable, and far less embarrassing when Dice’s fingertips turn to nails and Gentaro finally breaks, spilling surprised giggles into the other’s skin.

“Dihihice! What—whahat are you—ahahahaha! Wait! Th-that isn’t fahahahahahair!”

Dice had never kept his nails long before, not for so long as Gentaro has known him. He had no use for them, and it was much easier to keep clean with nails as short as can be. But he’s taken to growing them out, just a tad, for…special situations.

Situations where Gentaro is foolish, careless. Usually in the comfort of his own home, in clothes that make it too easy for Dice. To touch, caress. Warm hands over soft skin that finds another’s touch one part foreign to ten parts addictive.

Situations where the small scratch of a nail can amp the feeling of a tingle to a spark.

“Dihice, pl-plehease. I—aha! Oh no, oh pleheheHEHEHEASE!”

It’s so much easier to hide; in the warm, familiar grip of Dice’s embrace. Where he can smother his keening laughter and sudden gasps. No care in the world for his pink cheeks and ruffled hair, so embarrassingly genuine after the painstaking process of making him ‘modelesque.’

Where all he has to focus on is the rippling movement, scratching up and down the dips beneath his arms. A constant, offset graze on hypersensitive skin; gentle as can be but more than enough to drive Gentaro past the point of composure.

All too quickly, Gentaro feels his knees go weak. His back slips down the wall a fraction, hands gripping onto Dice reflexively.

Dice responds in kind, keeping him stable, then going the extra step forward. Literally.

He steps until there’s no space between them. Until Gentaro can be held up with no need for his own legs; just the cool, sturdy wall behind him and Dice’s chest against his own. He’s surrounded by Dice’s warmth, by his scent. It’s been only minutes, but Gentaro is panting for breath.

“Hey,” Dice mutters, softly, once Gentaro can focus on him. He tugs his hand free, chuckling along to the author’s stray giggle, before reaching up to cup his cheek. His thumb strokes habitually, eyes staring deep into Gentaro’s — searching. Always searching. Making sure he’s okay.

And he is. Better than okay. That’s not a lie, it can’t be, and the way Gentaro narrows his eyes, sends a challenging smirk Dice’s way — makes that abundantly clear. Dice drops his gaze, laughing to himself. Then he straightens up, thumbs the moisture from the side of Gentaro’s face.

“As I was saying…” Dice trails, locking eyes with Gentaro as he speaks. Watching the way they widen, lips pressing together, when his remaining hand flexes.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

#bee stuffs #side note I’ve never played arb #I just love their aquarium fits ✨#tickling #tickle fic #dhfhhfhdjd I don’t wanna tAG THIS #Hypmic #Dice #Gentaro #Gendice #Daigen #ticklish!Gentaro #this may be the first FP tickle fic and that’s the only thing I can be proud about #✌🏼

31 notes · View notes

whumpmatsus · 3 years

Note

So you can, nice.

I been wandering if you could write something about a painful love triangle between iromatsu and a new neighbor they have met and become Friends with.

She is like the epic older sister type, but with some depression and emptiness. Best if her name was Irusu. She likes to pet the sextuplets.

ichimatsu happen to fall for her thinking she is similar to him and karamatsu falling for her strong personality thinking it was beautiful.

however when karamatsu realized that ichi love her too and saw how close they are. he had a emotional battle with himself not knowing if he should choose his happiness or his brother's, in the end he chose what he thought is the best for them all and immediately give up on her and start avoiding her not knowing that the girl actually have a crush on him (lot of details, ik)

eventually the girl got hurt from Karamatsu action and blamed her foolish messed up self.

Ichimatsu who know the girl's feelings get into a fight with karamatsu and they got injured both physically and emotionally.

I don't know about the ending tho, you can write whatever you want I'm only here to give pain to my heart.

It's a bit long so take your time and don't overdo it pls, love ya💙

ahahaha sorry, was the request "yo girl how much emotional Iromatsu shit can you fit into less than 3000 words?"

... the answer is literally all of it

this was fun, Iromatsu fighting hurts my heart but also I love it, that angst is delicious :D

I made the ending vague in order both to let people imagine their own ending AND to set up for a possible sequel if anybody wants one!

love ya too, I hope this is good for you *fingerguns*

For the first time in a long time, Akatsuka Ward has a new resident.

For the first time in an even longer time, she’s been hanging around the Matsuno sextuplets as if they’re her only friends.

As far as anyone else knows, that might be the truth. No one ever sees her with anyone else aside from the times she happens to work, and the brothers all seem incredibly fond of her, so there’s really no reason to find anyone else when she has six new friends.

Irusu is maybe a strange kind of young lady, but no stranger than the rest of Akatsuka’s inhabitants, to be fair. Around the sextuplets, she doesn’t really rest in making sure they’re all taken care of and happy.

She accompanies Osomatsu to the pachinko parlor, often putting her own money into the machines so he can play. She sits next to Karamatsu on the roof, listening to him play guitar and singing along. She collects magazine articles about idols and proudly sets them into Choromatsu’s hands when she comes over. She brings over food for Ichimatsu’s cats, giving little kissy noises as she feeds them. She always offers to play baseball with Jyushimatsu, even though it always leads to exhaustion later. She displays an incredible willingness to star in selfies with Totty and makes him laugh with silly poses.

And if she’s not doing any of those things, she’s got one of their heads in her lap, stroking through their hair. More than one fight has broken out over who gets to be petted the most on any given day.

All in all, they love having her around. It’s been so long since any of them had a real friend outside the family who treated them so kindly.

Is it really any wonder at least one of them ended up falling head over heels for her?

… Actually, is it really any wonder two of them did?

Neither of them is sure who fell first, though they’re not sure it really matters since they can’t really call ‘dibs’ on a person. All they know is that Ichimatsu is drawn to the similarities between himself and Irusu, sensing a kind of heavy-weighing sadness and darkness inside her that’s not unlike his own… and that Karamatsu is pulled in by her strength and kindness, in awe of someone who can be so brave even when she’s suffering herself.

For the month or so after Karamatsu became aware of his little brother’s feelings, he’s been wrestling with his own heart. What kind of horrible older brother would he be if he stole the affections of someone Ichimatsu’s heart is also pining after? Can he even set aside his own selfish emotions when he’s never quite felt like this for someone before?

The whole thing is just awful. Often as brothers they would playfully fight over Totoko, and yet this is… different. This isn’t Totoko. It’s Irusu. It’s someone that one of them might actually have a shot with.

What is he supposed to do? For once in his life, he wants to step up and have a chance, to not immediately give in to his generosity and wanting his little brother to be happy. He wants to be happy. It’s a shame that he does want Ichimatsu to be happy, too. At the very least, he doesn’t want his happiness to have a hand in Ichimatsu’s pain.

He thinks too long and too hard. Every cheesy romantic line that he aims at Irusu and every time she smiles at him ― it’s getting more difficult to take. Every time she caresses his head. Every hug they share.

Every time he notices Ichimatsu tense up whenever Karamatsu flirts with Irusu. Every time Ichimatsu clenches his fists when she’s charmed by something Karamatsu does or says. Every time he looks angry and insecure when she calls him ‘Irusu boy’ and proclaims herself ‘Karamatsu girl’, even if it’s probably just a joke.

Those are the things he thinks he notices more than any of Irusu’s reactions.

He wants so much to be selfish, to not care how his brother feels. The unfortunate truth is that he does. More than anything, he loves all of his brothers, Ichimatsu included. If something he does is going to hurt one of them, then he doesn’t want to do it.

So last night, he did something that he didn’t truly want to do. As Irusu was leaving, he kissed her hand and told her, in a rather solemn tone devoid of his usual theatrics, “Ichimatsu would probably like it if you asked him out.”

With that, he felt like things were in place. He would keep his distance from her, Ichimatsu would get a chance to be happy with her, and… Karamatsu was sure he would find someone else eventually. The biggest problem was that in order for it not to be so painful for him, he would have to try to avoid Irusu as much as possible.

No more hugs. No more being petted. No more pretty smiles in his direction.

It’s only been a few days of it by this point. However, it’s not easy. Even though he thinks this is the best thing, that he’ll stop craving her attention at some point, right now he still wants it. Losing the closeness they’ve all become used to is one of the worst things he can think of, and it’s happening, and he’s so sure it’s the right thing…

It just sucks that the right thing can hurt so badly.

At least his little brother will have a shot at happiness.

Ichimatsu, on the other hand, is pissed.

He’s sure he must have been this angry at some other point in his life, although he can’t really remember this kind of fury burning him up from the inside. It’s probably been a while since he felt anything other than a boiling of annoyance.

He has a hard time with Karamatsu, that much is for sure, but he knows Karamatsu well enough. The man is a goody-goody, or at least he pretends to be, so he’d never do something like, say, step on Ichimatsu’s toes over a girl they both like. That much is certain.

Except the issue with backing off is that in the process, he’s managed to lodge a big, painful arrow in Irusu’s feelings. That is something Ichimatsu can’t just ignore or let slide.

Why would he do this, anyway? If he was going to let Ichimatsu have a chance with her, fine… how come he had to just start brushing her off, though? What, does he think he can’t even be friends with her in order to let Ichimatsu shoot his shot? The hell is wrong with that dumbass?

This is where his dangerous nature comes in handy, at the very least. He can’t act too scary around Irusu or he risks her being afraid of him. Karamatsu is another story.

Which is good, because he thinks his big, stupid brother needs a scare to make him realize what the hell he’s doing.

Not only is he taking away Ichimatsu’s chance of winning Irusu’s affection fairly, instead of being the ‘runner-up’ like he’s been his whole life, Karamatsu is also hurting her. She’s talked about this to Ichimatsu, and she thinks that this is somehow her fault.

She thinks she’s too messed up and Karamatsu has just lost interest in her, that she did something which turned him off. The way she buried her face in Ichimatsu’s shoulder, mumbling tearfully that she should have known Karamatsu couldn’t possibly like her the way she liked him, is a memory he thinks is going to be burned in his mind forever.

He’s mad at Karamatsu more than he’s ever been in his life. He thinks he’s doing a nice thing stepping aside and trying to give Ichimatsu a chance, but if it hurts Irusu, he doesn’t want that chance. It matters what she wants more than anything, so if she likes and wants Karamatsu, if it’s putting her in pain to have him treat her dismissively, then Ichimatsu isn’t going to just stand by. He’s gonna do something about it.

Of course, perhaps he could have been a little more composed about it than to simply walk up to Karamatsu and punch him in the face. That said, nobody ever accused Ichimatsu of being subtle.

The hit was hard enough to leave his hand aching, so as soon as it connects, he pulls his fist back and rubs at his knuckles. It hurts, yeah. There’s more important stuff than that right now, though. He stares down at his brother, who’s on the floor trying to recover, and for a long moment, doesn’t do anything except glare.

Karamatsu, meanwhile, is pinching his nose shut in an attempt to stop the bleeding from being punched in the Goddamn face without any warning. To say he wasn’t expecting the blow would be an understatement. Even when he gingerly draws his hand away with a wince, everything still throbs. “Ichimatsu, what the hell was that for?!”

“You’re an ass,” Ichimatsu hisses, taking a step closer. “You think I need your fucking pity, huh? You think the only way Irusu would choose to go out with me is because you gracefully bowed out? You’re full of shit!”

Karamatsu is on his feet in a few seconds, only to just barely catch another fist thrown at him. His arm shakes with the muscle strain of holding back his little brother’s ire. “What are you… are you angry at me for taking myself out of the running?! Any other time, you’d be eliminating the competition yourself!”

Ichimatsu throws a punch with his other hand, though it’s caught just the same. There’s too much rage and adrenaline flooding through him, and Karamatsu can’t hold him back forever. “You think you’re doing me some kind of favor?! That’s just so like you! You’ve gotta be the hero right? You stupid, chūnibyō loser! You’re the saintly big brother and I’m the pathetic jackass and you’ve just gotta help me!”

“Wha… h-hey! That’s not what I think or what I’m trying to do!” It’s starting to become difficult to keep a grip on Ichimatsu’s hands, so in a desperate bid for some space, he shoves Ichimatsu back… maybe with a little more force than he may have used otherwise. “I care about you, Ichimatsu! You deserve to have a chance, and I know she likes you, and I just thought… if I allowed her to focus on you, I wouldn’t distract her!”

Ichimatsu ends up flat on his ass, although he’s back up in only a second. “You didn’t distract her, you motherfucker! You hurt her feelings! Who cares if she likes me?! She likes you! But as usual, you had to go and fuck everything up for everybody because you were trying to ‘help’!”

This time when he lunges forward, Karamatsu is ready and they end up grappling like two bucks locking antlers. Nobody really has the upper hand unless one counts that Ichimatsu is putting a little more physical force into it; the emotional toll it’s taking on Karamatsu is obvious, though.

“She never told me anything about that!” His arms quiver as he tries to plant his feet so that Ichimatsu can’t just brute force his way through this fight.

“Should she have had to?! You said she likes me, but she’s never said that, so you could obviously read her to know she likes me! You couldn’t tell she likes you, too?! And so what?!” Ichimatsu rocks forward in an attempt to knock Karamatsu off balance. “Even if she didn’t like you that way, you think blowing her off like you’ve been doing wouldn’t hurt a friend?!”

He winds back and goes in for another punch. “You’re not a good person! You know what you are? You know what I see when I look at you, what everyone else sees when they look at you? A stupid, painful, selfish, sorry excuse for a big brother!”

Something about those words makes Karamatsu freeze. The hit lands full-force, kickstarting the bloody nose that had just stopped a moment ago. Sparks dance around his insides, prompting him to gain back awareness enough to reciprocate the blow.

Before either of them know it, they’re rolling around on the floor, kicking and hitting each other and shouting the worst things they can think of.

“Excruciating bastard!”

“Antisocial asshole!”

“Self-centered, holier-than-thou shitbag!”

“Emotionally constipated, ungrateful bitch!”

“You don’t deserve to be anyone’s older brother! You don’t deserve to be anyone’s brother, period! You deserve to be alone, because nobody should ever have to deal with you and your fucking tryhard bullshit!”

“Oh, and you’re so easy to deal with?! All any of us do is give and give and you don’t give us anything in return! Being an apathetic misanthrope doesn’t make you interesting or special, it just makes you an edgelord!”

“Edgelord, huh? Must run in the family, because you’re even edgier than I am!”

“Maybe, but at least I don’t shut everyone out and act like my brothers don’t love me!”

“Oh, you’re psychoanalyzing me now?! Fuck off! Actually, just die!”

“Is that what you say to everything?! You die first and I might consider it!”

“Great! I’m glad to die! I’ve got a noose and a beam all picked out! As long as I get to choose how you die, I’m ready when you are, asshole!”

“Please! As if I’m going to let you do something like that! What the hell is wrong with you, Ichimatsu?!”

It seems to be the turn in that direction that causes the two of them to start to lose steam. The decline is quick as all the anger between both men crystallizes into fatigue and anguish.

Karamatsu rolls over from where he ended up above Ichimatsu, and Ichimatsu lets his whole body go limp. They lie there for what feels like forever, breathing heavily, covered in new bruises and scratches and flecks of blood, too tired to fire any more shots at one another.

They lie side by side, and when Karamatsu looks over, he sees through his own blurry vision that there are tears in the corners of Ichimatsu’s eyes.

His heart leaps into his throat.

He doesn’t know how else this could have turned out, but it’s undeniable that things have gone way too far, as they always do with any of the sextuplets.

“Ichimatsu…” He reaches for his little brother, only for Ichimatsu to pull violently away and curl into a ball. It hurts, mainly because he knows that’s what Ichimatsu does when he wants the entire world to leave him be. This time, it’s Karamatsu’s fault.

“Fuck off, Shittymatsu,” Ichimatsu mumbles. It’s through experience that Karamatsu can tell he’s starting to cry; that break in his voice might not be evident to anyone except his brothers. “Whatever you’re going to say, I don’t wanna hear it. I don’t care.”

Karamatsu huffs. “Well, you should care. We can’t do this shit, Ichimatsu. What’s wrong with us? It’s not normal for brothers to fight like this. We just beat each other up. Over a woman. … A stunning woman, but―”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Ichimatsu interrupts. “Are there rocks in your Goddamn head? Do you really think this is just about Irusu? Don’t pretend this wouldn’t have happened at some point even if she never came into our lives. We’re fucking losers who don’t know how to get along and she’s just the latest thing we’re fighting about. We’re both shitheads. Neither of us deserves her.”

Well, at least they can agree on that.

Despite the fact that Ichimatsu doesn’t turn to look at him, not even a little, Karamatsu keeps a hand on his little brother’s back. That Ichimatsu doesn’t push him away or scream for Karamatsu to get off is a good sign.

Although, there aren’t enough good signs to just magically fix this. There’s still so much wrong with the entire situation and nothing is going to tie it up with a neat bow.

They lie next to each other in silence for a long time. Gradually, the tension starts to drain out of Ichimatsu’s body, the more seconds tick by without Karamatsu moving away. His muscles continue to relax until he’s bled out of fury, until he realizes that he doesn’t wantto be mad at his big brother.

The anger isn’t just going to vanish from either of them. It’s not going to disappear because they don’t want to be angry at each other. Their exhaustion bringing true feelings out of the shadows, however, is better than making believe they would prefer staying angry.

“I’m sorry,” Karamatsu finally says. His voice is smaller than usual and breathy and sounds cracked in half by the time he speaks up.

At last, Ichimatsu rolls over onto his back with a grunt. “… I’m sorry, too.”

Karamatsu sighs and shifts his hand away to give his younger brother space. “We really are a couple of pathetic creatures, aren’t we?”

“Yep, we’re shitty.”

“The shittiest.”

They both fall silent for another moment or two. This time, it’s Ichimatsu who breaks the quiet. “What… do we do now?”

There are too many thoughts swirling around Karamatsu’s head. And he would assume in Ichimatsu’s head as well. Everything is tumulting around in an unorganized mess, too much to put together any kind of real plan.

What do they do about what,anyway? About Irusu and who gets to have a chance with her? About their own broken relationship?

Neither of them really knows what to do about anything.

“I think,” Karamatsu hums, “we should patch up our wounds before anything else.”

So Ichimatsu nods.

It’s not going to solve any of their real problems, but it’s as good a place to start as any.

#Osomatsu san #whump #Iromatsu #Karamatsu #Ichimatsu #OC #emotional whump #violence #love triangle #angst #MMMMMMMMMMM Y'ALL TASTE THAT??#FRESH ANGST RIGHT OFF THE ANGST VINE #THESE TWO HAVE SO MANY PROBLEMS WITH EACH OTHER #MAYBE THEY NEEDED TO SCREAM AND BEAT EACH OTHER UP #at least it's over! ... for now anyway XD

17 notes · View notes

heliads · 3 years

Text

Connections Chapter 2: Closer

The plan is simple- if Peter Maximoff wants to get closer to his father, he needs to get closer to the girl Erik’s taken on as a trainee of sorts. He won’t be any more involved with her than that, right?

previous / series masterlist / next

Get close with Y/N, and you get close to your father. That’s all Peter had to do, right? Surely it would be pretty easy.

The first opportunity to do so occurs in training class. The young X-Men are all arrayed in the training room, and Logan announces that they’ll need partners for some sparring drill he probably thought up seconds before class started.

Peter notices a slight glint of panic in Y/N’s eyes at Logan’s words- she’s barely been at the school for a few days. She doesn’t know that many people, and many more still fear her for working with Apocalypse. So, Peter takes matters into his own hands and strides casually over to Y/N. Logan walks by, and looks around at Y/N and the few other mutants in the vicinity.

“So, who’s your partner?” Peter raises his hand. “Me. That’s me. We are, uh, partners.” Logan raises his eyebrow, but walks away after Y/N nods slowly. After he leaves, Y/N looks back at Peter. “Why’d you do that?” Peter just shrugs. “I remember what it felt like when I first started going here. Besides, if I had to work with Scott again I’d probably lose my mind. He just stares at Jean the whole time.” Y/N stifles a laugh, and just like that, Peter’s plan is set into motion.

A while later, Peter is restless. It’s a hot, quiet night, and Peter can’t seem to close his eyes for longer than a second. One of the perks of moving as fast as he does is that he doesn’t need to sleep that long, but it’s certainly not a benefit now. Peter doesn’t feel tired at all, and he can’t sleep a wink, not even to pass the time.

Eventually, Peter can’t stand it and he gets out of bed, quietly closing the door behind him before taking off. Once he stops moving, Peter finds himself outside, under the gently swaying branches of a large oak tree. He sighs quietly, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Out of the otherwise silent night, Peter hears a sudden noise behind him. He turns to see Y/N’s startled face behind him. Peter’s eyes widen. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t see you there. Didn’t mean to surprise you.” At a closer look, Peter’s stomach twists inwardly when he realizes that Y/N’s eyes are puffy and slightly red- she’s been crying. Y/N smiles shyly. “It’s fine. I just thought I was the only one awake at this time of night.”

Peter looks at her quietly. “Do you want to talk about anything? I mean, I know that’s kind of forward of me because we just met and all, but do you?” Y/N glances at him. “It’s fine, actually. I know I’ve been crying- I just keep having these nightmares about my family, the night they died. Every time I close my eyes, I see them blaming me for their death. They died right in front of me, and I feel like I should have done something.”

Peter puts a hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. I know it feels hard to hear, but some things can’t be avoided. If there was something you could have done to stop their deaths, I bet you would have done it, or at least known something to do. It’s not your fault that they died.” Y/N laughs bitterly. “I just wish I could convince myself of that.”

She looks at him curiously. “Why are you doing this?” Peter knits his eyebrows, confused. “Doing what?” Does she know about his plan? Y/N sighs. “Why are you being so nice to me? Everyone here thinks I’m still some agent of Apocalypse, but yet here you are, hearing me out and helping me in class that other day. Why bother?”

Peter grins. “I guess I’m just a naturally caring guy. I”m sure all of my friends would agree. Mainly, I suppose I just felt as one of the X-Men the other kids kinda look up to me, in a way. I figured that if I was nice to you, they’d trust you again. Although I have to say, Agent of Apocalypse is a pretty cool sounding name, so if you want me to hate you so you can call yourself that I totally understand.”

Y/N laughs again. “I appreciate your willingness to act on my villain plans, but I don’t think that’s necessary.” She yawns, and then checks her watch. “I think I’m going to head to bed.” She walks a few steps away, and then turns back to face him one last time. “Oh, and Peter? Thank you.”

After that night, Y/N and Peter grow closer and closer. They become fast friends, and Peter realizes that even without the need to have connections to his father, Peter truly enjoys Y/N’s company and is glad he has her as a friend. That being said, this plan of being friends with Y/N to have a link to his father is definitely paying off. When Y/N and Peter are studying, Erik often drops by or shares advice as to how best control their powers.

Peter is now closer to his father than he had thought possible. Even at the beginning, a little voice in the back of his mind had told Peter that this wouldn’t work, that Erik wouldn’t be that interested in him even if he was friends with Y/N. However, Erik still comes over and talks to Peter even if Y/N isn’t there. It’s worth it, it’s all worth it.

Gradually, Peter notices that there’s something different about Y/N. He can’t find a name for it, but it’s like he’s noticing things about her that he never noticed before. There’s a gleam in her eyes when she talks about something she’s especially passionate about. There’s the toss of her head when she wins an argument, and the joking roll of her eyes when she loses. There’s the happy sigh whenever she feels the morning sun light up her face, and the way she tilts her head back late at night, watching the stars.

He doesn’t know why he’s thinking about this, or why he cares so much. Shaking his head, Peter returns back to everyday life. He’s in the middle of lunch, sitting by his friends. They’re swapping stories about classes and other mutants that bring a light, bubbly atmosphere to the afternoon.

Peter realizes out of the corner of his eye that Jean is staring at him, amused. He turns to her. “What, did you say something?” Jean just shakes her head, but she’s got the grin of a cat that just ate the finest canary in the world. Peter narrows his eyes. “What is it, Jean?” The telepath smirks. “I can’t believe it. After all of your self-centric days, you’re finally interested in someone other than yourself.”

Peter glares at her. “What are you talking about? Also, rude.” Jean leans forward with the air of someone about to bestow the highest truth upon an ignorant follower. “You’re absolutely in love with Y/N L/N.” Peter scoffs. “That’s ridiculous. Of course I don’t. We’re just friends.” Jean laughs. “That’s funny- I don’t remember you spending this much time thinking about your other friends. She must be your best friend to be occupying this much of your thoughts.”

Peter swats her shoulder. “Uh, last time I checked unconsented mind readings were frowned upon. Also, I’m just thinking about her in a respectful, friendly way. All friends do that.” Jean’s smirk is impossible to bear. “I’m sure you do. Just wondering- were you going to figure that out on your own or did you realize you loved her just now?”

Jean has to lean quickly away to dodge Peter lunging at her, and she collapses in a fit of laughter. The two of them pretend to fight for a while, but after lunch ends, Peter’s mind dissolves into a rush of thoughts flying through his head.

Does he really love Y/N? Across the grassy courtyard, Peter catches sight of her. She’s talking to one of her new friends with a positivity that lights up the whole yard. Y/N catches sight of him, and waves happily. The beaming smile across her face is infectious, and Peter finds himself smiling too before he realizes it.

He walks away, headed towards some distant corner of the courtyard. He strides over to his favorite place to be alone, a cracked stone fountain where no one else goes. He leans over the stone fountain, staring at the distorted reflection of his face in the water.

He does love her, doesn’t he. Yes, he does. Peter’s not sure why it’s taken him so long to realize it, but he is absolutely in love with her. Jean was right. Peter’s knuckles tighten around the stone edge of the fountain.

He speaks to himself in a low tone, trying to convince himself of what he says. “You’re not in love with her. You don’t need her. Y/N is nothing to you. You only talked to her so you could get to know Erik.”

Behind him, there’s a quiet sound, like a startled breath caught in someone’s chest. Peter’s head whips around, and he’s filled with horror as he realizes that Y/N is standing behind him, and she has heard every word of what he just said.

“Y/N, it’s not like that- I was just talking to myself- I didn’t mean it-” Y/N’s eyes are already stony and cold, and she’s putting on a brave face to hide the tears already bubbling up. “You know, you really had me fooled. I loved you, Peter. I thought you cared about me. All of this was for what, to get to know your dad?” She continues despite Peter’s shocked expression.

“Yes, I know. Mystique told me. I can’t believe I didn’t see it. Of course you wouldn’t want me for anything else but to get to him.” Peter can’t find his voice to defend himself or call Y/N back to him, but it doesn’t matter- Y/N’s already turning away from him.

“Don’t talk to me again. I loved you, Peter. Why would you do this?” Peter finally opens his mouth to speak, but it’s too late. Y/N is already walking away from him, moving quickly to hide the tears that she’s kept at bay for far too long.

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff imagine #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff imagines #quicksilver #quicksilver imagine #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver imagines #xmen #xmen imagines #peter maximoff series #quicksilver series #xmen series #magneto

120 notes · View notes

jonspurpleskirt · 3 years

Text

Perks of Beholding

Summary: Jon gets distracted from paranoia by learning he can now understand animals. This somehow solves all their problems. Or: Jon turns into a Disney princess the fic.

No Warnings apply. It’s just fluff. Heavily inspired by this lovely TMA comic: ___

It started with the Admiral. Jon was about to read the first statement his mysterious benefactor had sent when he heard a small "Jon!" from the kitchen. It had a strange, rumbling undertone to it and sounded as though a human was trying to imitate a cat.

Jon startled so hard at the unfamiliar voice that he send the papers he had in his hands flying. Instinctively grabbing the tape recorder he sprung up.

"Who's there!"

The Admiral came out of the kitchen, rubbing against the doorframe and purring. "Jon! It's time for a midday snack."

Jon blinked hard, wondering if he had lost his mind entirely, while a much louder voice was screeching in delight.

"Admiral! I can understand you!"

"Give me food Jon, I beg of you. I'm famished."

The Admiral jumped up on his lap, claws snagging on the worm hole riddled arm. It should have already been healed, but Jon continued picking on it.

"Ah..ha. Careful please. I'm damaged goods."

"My apologies. Now food and then cuddles? I crave attention."

Statement forgotten Jon spend the rest of the afternoon debating with Georgies cat about the pros and cons of feeding the Admiral without Georgies consent, sneaking snacks anyway and cuddling on the couch.

To say that Georgie was bemused when she got home was an understatement. "You can speak cat now. Are you shitting me?"

"No. It's amazing! Georgie this might be the only good thing to have happened to me in years!"

Georgie rolled his eyes, grinning. "Don't be so dramatic. So what? Are cats really planning to overthrow us lowly humans? What is he saying?"

"I'm pretty sure he wouldn't tell me if that was the case. Admiral is there anything you'd like to say to Georgie?"

The Admiral, who hadn't budged from Jons chest since after he had been fed was staring straight at him. "Tell her I love her."

Jon turned to Georgie with the most serious face she had ever seen on him. "He wants you to know that he loves you." He announced gravely. And then, after a short pause. "But he loves me more."

"I didn't say that."

"He didn't say that!"

"No, but I know."

The Admiral bit at his finger and then immediately licked the raw skin as an apology. "Unruly kitten."

"I'm not a kitten!"

"You know I'm not sure if the noises you make are cute or creepy."

~~~

His language comprehension skills didn't only focus on cat speak, Jon found out soon after. He had been brave enough to step out of Georgies flat to go for a quick walk (and buy some cat food that Georgie refused to get for the Admiral), when a voice from above cooed at him.

"So shiny!"

Jon froze at the croaky exclamation, scanning his environment and trying not to panic. There was no police nearby. Which was good. But also bad if this was going to turn out to be a robbery. There weren't any people around at all, actually. Jon had gone out at an ungodly hour as to avoid big crowds and thus being seen.

The only being he could make out was a crow perched atop a lantern, gazing down at him. Jon pointed at himself. "Are you speaking to me?"

The crow tilted its head. "It would seem so, human."

"Oh. What is it that you find so shiny?"

It considered his question for a moment, then flew down. Jon flinched when the bird landed on his shoulder, a sharp beak tapping the hair clasp Jon had used to keep his mess of a hair out of his face.

"This. I'd like to have it."

Jon itched to stroke the black feathers that caressed his cheek. A childish excitement that he hadn't felt since uni thrumming in his chest.

"You can have it. Just let me take it out first."

The crow hopped on his other shoulder, nibbling at his scarf while Jon gently untangled the clasp from his locks, careful not to jostle his new friend too much.

"There we go. Here."

"Thank you. This kindness will not be forgotten."

Jon watched the bird fly off with his possession and wished his human encounters could go so smoothly.

Word did get around fast that he was a friend of corvids and provider of shiny things. Wherever he went at least two or three crows or ravens would appear within minutes chatting him up. Most of his spare change went to them and soon he found himself buying little trinkets for them to carry off.

In the weeks that followed Jon got out more and more, keeping to parks at unreasonable hours, driven to converse with all kinds of wildlife. He hadn't touched most of the statements he had been send, too fixated on the new, harmless ability he had been granted. This had improved Georgies and his relationship immensely. She had been worried that he would obsess over who could have murdered Leitner. Him going out and talking to various animals might not have been any less strange, but at least it felt harmless enough to her that she left him to it, sometimes even tagging along.

Jon had always felt it easier to communicate with animals. And this didn't change with his new ability. Interactions were simple and their stories were interesting, with a perspective foreign enough to catch his interest. Animals viewed the world rather differently, had different priorities and had less behavioral rules that Jon could mess up.

And they weren't shy to seek out his touch once they got to know him. More often than not these days Georgie would find him with a squirrel draped around his neck, a bird pulling his hair or a cat in his arms. He had even tried to talk to some insects once, but told Georgie with a look of disappointment that they didn't have the mind for idle chatter.

Like humans not every animal was friendly or even a good conversationalist. There was a white and grey pigeon nesting close to Georgies flat, who made for dreadful smalltalk and couldn't hold a thought to save its life. And Clara the sparrow loved to spew a litany of curse words at him, because she found they sounded funny.

In the end, however, his curiousity to learn more about his abilities led him to check out more of the statements and eventually, try and contact Jude Perry. They met in a quaint little café, opting to sit outside because of Judes flamability and Jons want to have a better chance of escape should anything go wrong.

Jon didn't shake Judes hand when she first asked. But after her statement and her willingness to give him the contact of an acquaintance he felt he had to. He reached out to take her hand when a crow dived down and crashed between the two. The ball of black feathers shook itself and snapped sharply at Jons hand.

"What do you think you are doing you lanky idiot! Do you not have any instincts left in your body! What are you?! A fledgling? Shame on you! You nearly gave us a heart attack!"

"I'm sorry, but you really should fly away. Your feathers are beginning to sizzle- Ow!"

The crow had squawked at him in a rather unbecoming manner for such a lovely lady, but had heeded his warning and flown onto his shoulder, opting to snap at his ear and pull it to get him to leave the firey lady, cussing him out all the while.

"I get it, I get it! Please stop assaulting my ear."

"What."

Momentarily having forgotten his audience in order to get the furious crow out of his hair, Jon send Jude an apologetic smile.

"Sorry. Marah seems to be quite against me shaking your hand. Ow. Would you stop that I'm not doing anything!"

"You can speak with animals?" Not even Jude - I'll burn everything you love to the ground - Perry seemed to be immune to the craziness of the situation. Her grin had turned from feral to amused. The air around her had gotten colder as well.

"Ah, yes. Wasn't Gertrude also able to do so?"

Jon had finally been able to get Marah out of his hair and was cradling her against his chest, patting down her ruffled feathers and let her play with the shiny decorative coins that hung from his scarf.

"I don't think I've ever seen her doing that. But then everyone Becomes differently."

"Becomes? Ah... right sorry, no further questions. I... I guess I've always had more interest in animals then humans. Could that... I mean that could be the reason."

"Could." She echoed him, eyes fixed on the crow nestled in his arms.

A flutter of wings made both of them look up and startle at the sight of dozens of black birds perched along the roofs staring down at them.

"Did you call them?" She hissed.

"No. It's not like I can control them. I occasionally give them stuff? And they make great conversation partners. I guess they're just pretty protective of me?"

"Fledgling." Marah huffed, winding one of his long locks around her beak and tugging.

"Ow. They call me fledgling for some reason."

Jude snorted into her boiling coffee. "Yeah that checks out." Her gaze skimmed the dark wall of feathers above them. People around them had become uncomfortable as well, hurrying to get out of the area. The waiter was giving them nervous glances, too.

"If it would ease your mind I doubt they'll try to attack you if you play nice?"

"You sound awfully unsure of that."

Jon shrugged as best as he could without jostling Marah too much. "I'm still not sure how all of this works. That's why I'm looking for other avatars."

Jude shook her head and laughed. "A Watcher not Knowing something. The world never ceases to surprise me." She took out her phone, which had a cracked display, the plastic scorched where her fingers touched, but miraculously was still functioning. "Give me your number I'll forward you some of my contacts."

"Thank you!"

"Don't. You'll pay me in cute pet pictures. Once weekly."

Jon smiled, that sounded like a much better price to pay than a scorched hand. "I'll do that. Any favourites?"

"Owls." Jude said without hesitation, then blinked and scowled at him. "You'll have to get a grip on that if you don't want Mike to throw you out the window."

"I'm sorry. I really don't mean to do... whatever I'm doing."

"Watch your wording then. Don't ask questions or whatever."

Jon sighed, holding out his phone for her to copy his number. "Right."

He bought Marah her favourite pastry as a thank you for saving him and promised to get her that pretty ring she had seen. It was quite expensive, but Jon thought it was worth it.

~~~

Jon was a bundle of frayed nerves when he went to visit Mike Crew. They had written back and forth a bit over the days and no matter how much Jon tried to coax Mike into meeting him somewhere more open the Avatar of the Vast never budged.

So here he was, sans crow support, knocking on the door of a serial killer. The young man that welcomed him in was only shorter than him by maybe an inch or two. He had donned a fake smile and was asking if he wanted some tea.

Jon didn't. He had a set of questions, hungered for Mikes statement. But Judes warning stopped him from immediately going for it. Drinking bland tea he didn't want was probably the better alternative to being thrown out a window. Not that that was still a very real possibility afterwards.

"I'd love to. Thank you."

Mike seemed surprised that he had taken him up on the offer. "Huh. Well then. Come in. I only have Lavender and Peppermint, any preferences?"

Jon tried to distract himself from the very obvious scar on Mikes neck by taking in the spacious flat he had just entered. "Peppermint sounds nice."

"Peppermint it is, then."

Jon trailed after him into the kitchen, a bit lost on what the etiquette was when being a first time guest. Was he supposed to wait somewhere? Go to the couch? Was he even allowed to take a seat before being told?

At least he had gotten better at small talk. True Mike Crew wasn't an animal, but Jon had found out that being nice was actually well received by humans and avatars alike. (What a shocker.)

"You have a lovely apartment."

Mike shot him what looked like a genuine grin. "Thank you! A gift from Simon. He's taking good care of all the new Vast avatars. Tends to try and adopt them, but I quite like my autonomy and the family parties he throws are dreadful."

Jon couldn't help but pout. The terminology didn't confuse him as much anymore. Jude had deigned to explain that to him via text, with a lot of gloating and bad puns. "I wish the Eye would be so welcoming. I swear for an entity that's all about knowing it doesn't tell me shit."

"Tough. You sure you work for the Eye and not the Web? Here. Come on don't just stand there like a bean pole the couch is a perfectly good place to sit."

"Good lord I hope so. I hate spiders."

"Cheers to that."

Not asking questions was hard. Jon was an impatient man, endlessly curious. And something within him craved Mikes statement. He opted to be honest with Mike about that, telling him without turning it into a burning question and the Avatar nodded in understanding.

"Alright I'll tell you my story then. Because you were nice enough not to ask and we short people should work together."

Jon hadn't been prepared for the sad tale that had been Mikes life. It seemed that he had only been able to somewhat settle down in the last few years. Being on the run for so long, Jon could only imagine what it did to a persons mind. He was only being wanted for murder for a bit now and the stress and paranoia was already killing him.

"Huh." Mike blinked when he was done, tea gone cold in his hands. "That was actually pretty therapeutic. I'm not opposed to doing this again."

They talked idly for a while after, Mike far less aggressive in his attitude than Jude, although he did lightly threaten him once or twice and gave him a horrible case of vertigo when Jon accidently insulted his taste in books.

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door and Mikes eyes narrowed. "I thought we agreed you'd come alone."

"I did." Jon defended himself, fear easily flooding back into his body.

They both stood and carefully inched towards the door. Just as Mike was about to open it, mouth already open to scold whoever had dared to interrupt him, a chorus of loud hisses, meows and a surprised shout made them freeze.

"Jon! A Hunter is here! We've got her handled. Run!"

Not thinking Jon snatched Mikes wrist and pulled him away from the entrance to the flat. The floor underneath him seemed to give way, but Mike at least hadn't fully thrown him into his domain. He dragged them both deeper into the flat. "Shit that's Tonner."

"Who?"

"The police. I ah... might be wanted for murder at the moment. I thought I've been descreet enough. But apparently not. Sorry."

He didn't like that Mikes eyes gleamed with a newfound respect after hearing that. "Oh yeah. I forgot that murder was illegal for a moment. Who did you kill?"

"I didn't." Jon scowled. "I was framed. It was Jurgen Leitner."

"Leitner?!"

"Hmhm. Turns out he was hiding below the institute the whole time. Honestly he was a rather pathetic old man."

Mike tsked. "Good riddance."

"Quite."

Mike eyed the window as the cursing from outside continued. They both flinched when there was a gunshot. Jon lurched forward, running towards the sound, only to be harshly janked back with surprising force. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

"She's shooting the cats! I need to save them!" There might have been a bit of static in his voice, fueled by the panic.

An inhuman growl came from outside and a layered voice shouting "Stay back!".

"That's a Hunter out there!"

Jon only let out a pathetic whine. His cats. He couldn't leave his cats! But the arm around his waist didn't let him go. Mike cursed behind him.

"You're crazy. And weird. You owe me for this."

"I can pay in cute animal pictures."

Mike snorted and let Jon go, leaving him to open the door. As soon as Daisy was in sight there was a loud Pop and a yelp, then she was gone. Jon knelt down in the mass of hissing fur, hands stroking over every body he could find, frantically looking for injuries on any of his babies. They came to him immediately, butting against his hands, chanting "Jon!" and started to purr up a storm.

"I think she just fired a warning shot." Mike mused, pointing towards the ceiling.

Jon heaved a huge sigh. "Oh thank god."

Mike tilted his head at the strange display before him. "Are those free of fleas?"

"Of course! They all are perfectly well behaved, clean angels."

Mike rolled his eyes. "Cool. They can come in then. I'm sure they just saved both of our lifes. Might as well reward them a bit."

And that was how Jon joined an impromptu sleepover at a supernatural serial killers flat, drowned in cats and delightfully tipsy, because Mike insisted on drinking to not dying.

The next morning greeted them with more knocking, which was nearly drowned out by the screams of the cats begging for food. Mike shot him a tired look.

"I deal with the cats. You open the door. You only presumably killed one guy. I'm sure they won't shoot you on sight."

Jon really didn't think that logic was sound, but decided against arguing with Mike, who turned out to not be a morning person at all. Some of the cats came with him as he greeted Basira, who frowned at his entourage.

"I didn't know Mike Crew was secretly a cat lady."

"Ah no, that would be me."

"Right. That sounds more believable. I just came by to let you know that you're in the clear. Elias Bouchard is the murderer. We have evidence now."

"Cool." Came the nonplussed reply from behind Jon.

Both avatars (could Jon count himself as an avatar at this point?) stared the police woman down. Jon unsure how to either continue or end the conversation and Mike probably trying to glare her to death. By the looks of it Basira had suddenly developed a very bad case of vertigo.

She stood her ground, though, clearing her throat and staring right back. "Would you know where Daisy is? She came her to investigate yesterday and I didn't hear from her since."

Mike giggled, Jon sighed and the cats purred in triumph, looking smug. This did not reassure Basira in the slightest.

"Your feral mutt was making a racket outside my flat, Officer."

"She was shooting at the cats." Jon was still upset about that, bending down to cradle one of them against his chest. The good boy immediately began licking his chin to soothe him.

Basira just about held herself back from snarling at them, keeping her cold, professional mask in place. "And where is she now?"

Jon glanced over to Mike in question. The Avatar of the Vast grinned. "Enjoying a long skydiving trip!"

"I'd like to have her back, please. We'll need her to confront Elias."

"We?"

Basira shot him a glare. "Yes." There was no room for arguement there.

Jons shoulders slumped and Mike patted his head in faux sympathy. There was a scream from outside.

"There. Done. See you around Archivist. Send pictures not Cops."

"If I survive this." Jon grumbled, the cats trailing behind him as he left with officer Hussain.

Daisy met them halfway down the stairs and nearly lunged at Jon. Basira took the whole car ride to calm her down. A task that was made even harder by Jon, who was unconsciously bristling with static, still very much furious about Daisy trying to harm his babies. No matter how many times either of the women explained that they would never and that Daisy hadn't aimed at any of them, Jon could not be calmed. This was the only reason why Basira allowed him to take a huge orange tabby into the car.

Really.

#tma #jonathan sims #jude perry #mike crew #fanfiction #fluff #my writing #i will not stop writing until jon has befriended everyone #i just need this guy to be happy okay #also on ao3

32 notes · View notes

gomustanggirl16 · 3 years

Text

Traitor Cat

Based off this random idea I have that’s a mix of my own two cats, Corona (no we named her after alcohol two years ago but it is a fitting name) and Tanqueray (gin we have a theme). So Tanq is more my cat, she likes cuddles, she likes to sit on my chest and be in my face and does know when I’m not okay and seems to take my anxiety away. Then there’s Corona, my moms cat, who well lets just say I call her a gargoyle because every morning she sits on the end of my moms bed like a gargoyle staring at her in the dark until she gets up.

So that got me thinking of Liho naturally and I had 15 minutes in an MRI machine (it’s fine I’m fine) to think clearly while ignoring the odd bagging against my back that reminded me of a child kicking the back of your seat on an airplane. So here we have Steve meeting Liho for the first time, this takes place right after TWS and this is also one of many forms of the idea and I’ve had wine so bare with me.

It had been long day, hell it had been a long year, Natasha lost her job, her antimony, her apartment, her parents apparently though that had been years ago, and now she was living in Avengers Tower because gaining her aliases back had been harder than ever before and she had started wondering if it was worth trying. But at least she had Liho, stubborn cat she was she’d missed her after leaving her with the Barton’s while she went Russia she’d found she missed the cat and Liho had seemed to miss her to, crying when she went to the farm to pick her up and see the family.

It was late almost midnight, she’d been tracking a shipment of S.H.I.E.L.D. contraband at the docks that led nowhere, yet. Natasha checked Liho’s bowl her dry food touched, but her wet food she’d asked Tony to put out untouched. That was highly unlike her, but she was still getting used to her new surrounds, now that she wasn’t allowed outside she was going a bit stir crazy, having come into her room the other day carrying one of Tony’s socks collapsing on the floor and proceeding to “kill” it like a mouse.

Natasha moved to her room, going through the motions as she got ready for bed collapsing into the oversized bed and abundant pillows Liho loved hiding in, slowly drifting off. Next time Natasha woke partially spreading her legs only to pause realizing Liho wasn’t at her usual spot at the end of the bed. She looked at the clock to see it was almost 2:30am and felt a slight panic pulse through her. Liho always came to bed. Even when Natasha didn’t want her to she’d sit outside the door and scratch and meow until she was let it, but there her door stood ajar and no Liho.

“Liho?” Natasha called out, nothing.

“Liho?” Natasha tried again getting out of bed and going to her door.

She went through the penthouse calling Liho but nothing. No reply. Oh no, Tony had been shocked learning she had a cat, and even more so when she’d asked him to feed her. He owed her that, but he wasn’t used to owning pets let alone Liho who tried escaping out the door every time it opened. oh no.

“J.A.R.V.I.S. are you able to track Liho’s movements?” Natasha asked trying not to think about all the possible ways Liho could be trapped or hurt or...

“Yes, reviewing the Tower’s surveillance it seems she got out when Mr. Stark fed her this evening and made her way into Captain Rogers quarters.”

Oh god...Steve had just gotten back from Spain tracking Bucky. They made plans to have breakfast later this morning. She needed to get Liho back upstairs before she gave poor Steve a heart attack. She quickly made her way out to the elevator and punched the button for Steve’s floor. Just like she knew he would his front door was unlocked, and she quietly made her way into the living room.

“Liho!!” Natasha whispered looking through the space for black ball of fur while trying not to wake the soldier. She went room by room until she reached Steve’s bedroom and her stomach knotted, knowing her cat this would be it, it’s door was cracked and she peaked in.

Sure enough there she was curled up at the end of Steve’s bed sound asleep.

“Traitor.” Liho stirred yawning and stretching with a little meow. “shh, come on.”

Instead of Liho following her Liho made her way further up the bed towards Steve’s sleeping form. Don’t you dare. Natasha moved quickly around the bed quickly snatching up the cat as she was about to climb up onto Steve’s chest. She was about to make it out the door before her foot snagged sending searing pain through her foot and her to the floor.

“F***”

“What the Hell?” Natasha looked up and turned on her back to see Steve rubbing his eyes as he looked down at where she was on the floor.

“Natasha? Are you okay?” He got up realizing what had happened, helping her up off the floor.

“I’m fine, you know you should really keep that thing on the wall or between your night stand and your bed.” She said looking at his shield now laying in the middle of the floor.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want people tripping over it in the middle of the night who weren’t already here when I went to bed. Speaking of, what are you doing in my room?”

Natasha hesitated, her eyes traying just a bit down his bare torso to where his sweats hung low on his hips-

“Nat?”

“Right-shit where’d she go?” Natasha looked around realizing Liho was gone again. She had to be around here somewhere though.

“Where’d who go? Nat are you sure you’re okay? Even for you this is a little strange.” She frowned getting back on the floor to look under his bed.

“Liho!” She hissed but the only thing there was a duffle bag. “You got any lunch meat? Ham preferably. She doesn’t like cold chicken.”

“There’s a sandwich in the fridge...” Steve replied now more confused than ever. I mean he did wake up to her in her pajamas tripping as she tried to make her escape from his bed room.

She made it to the fridge her foot still stung but she pushed it away as she opened his fridge.

“Nat why don’t you sit down let me take a look at your foot.” Steve tried to insist as he came out putting on a zip up.

She found the remaining hoggie in the fridge and sat down on the stool at the island as Steve went through the freezer for an ice pack,

“Liho, momma’s got ham!” She heard Liho’s distinct chirp before the cat jumped sliding across the counter to get her treat.

She watched Steve jump looking back in the direction Liho had come from then to Liho her self as she tore the thin slices of ham up into smaller bites for Liho. Poor thing was starving.

“Where-whose cat is this?” Steve asked dumbfounded as Liho devoured the ham from his sandwich.

“Steve meet Liho, my traitor cat.” Liho slept with no one not even the Barton kids but her and she was incredibly picky, yet here she was, cozy as could be with Steve.

“Why were you and Liho in my bedroom?” Steve asked again as Liho went over to him head butting his stomach to get him to pet her.

“Because I asked Tony to put some wet food out for her while I was working and he let her get out. I told him she’s sneaky and can’t be trusted, but she still got out. I didn’t noticed until half an hour ago when I woke up and she wasn’t in bed. J.A.R.V.I.S. was the one who told me she’d made it in here. Not sure how long but I found her sleeping on your bed with you and not me.”

Liho seemed completely un-phased as she started purring as Steve paid her attention.

“Probably should have realized there was something in my bed, but Sam and I spent the last three days wide awake and I crashed.” He did look tired really tired.

“I know, I’m sorry I woke you, but she was about to use you as a bed and she likes to lay across your neck until you can’t breathe.” He frowned looking at the cat that was now propping herself up on his chest trying to paw at his face to get his attention back on her.

“So it’s true what they say, pets are their owners.”

“I resent that, I don’t own her, we live together.” Had for two years now.

“That why you refer to yourself as her mother?”

“Oh so you’re cheeky when your half asleep huh?” Truth was it was Clint who started that and it just snuck into her vocabulary.

“So you say. How come I never knew you had a cat?”

“There was no reason to tell you.”

“How did you manage that you were gone so much?”

“Oh Nick would watch her for me.” Steve raised an eyebrow at that and she laughed, “Don’t tell him I told you, but he is quite the cat person, has one himself, used to follow him around hang out at S.H.I.E.L.D. but she passed away a few years ago, so you wouldn’t have seen her.”

“Well alright then. Say what does Liho mean? It’s Russian but I don’t think I’ve heard it.”

“The embodiment of evil fate and misfortune.”

“That’s a terrible name for a cat.”

“Its supposed to be ironic, she’s been everything but for me. I can shut everyone out, but she still wiggles her way in. There are days where I can’t get out of bed, and if I have nowhere to be, I had no reason to, but she won’t let me. She cries and won’t leave me be until I get up, even runs to the shower because she likes to play with the water left in the tub and if I turn it on, I’m not going to waste water. Granted most people think that’s just her hungry and wanting to make a mess, but she’s been my reason for getting up now more than ever. God I felt so scared when I realized she was gone, and a little betrayed. I’m sorry I have no idea why I just told you all of that.”

She looked away from him then playing with Liho’s tail to get her attention.

“You know if I stop looking for him-for Bucky I sometimes think I might go insane. Nat we just destroyed the one infrastructure we had...animals know this.”

“Yeah they do. Last time I leave her with Tony.”

Steve laughed a little shaking his head.

“Not to speak i’ll of the man currently housing us for free, but he can barely feed himself Nat.”

“Yeah, I mean he did what I asked, he just underestimated her willingness to go outside.” Steve smiled at her giving Liho one last pet.

“So, we still on for Breakfast? I know it’s three am now, but I don’t know about you but I’m not going back to sleep.”

“I could go for something to eat, let me cook, I was going to already, but now I think I really should since I woke you up by breaking into your bedroom.”

“Sounds good to me. Come on Liho,” Steve picked her up and Liho settled into his arms like a ragdoll.

Natasha would later recall that as the night she started to fall for him, the way Liho reacted to him, like she was telling her Steve was it, he was the one.

#romanogers #mg writes #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #liho the cat

56 notes · View notes

rampanttheories · 3 years

Text

Expanding on this post. I imagine the split from canon to go a little something like this:

Harry Potter is left on the doorstep of Privet Drive 4 and the tabby cat turns the corner and disappears from Surrey. Minerva McGonagall apparates to the outskirts of Hogwarts’ wards and maybe stands still in the November night, still stiff from a day spent on a wall, and watches the lights flicker in the castle’s windows. And maybe that is when the news, the impossible news, the news she hadn’t wanted to believe set in.

Voldemort is dead. And so are the Potters her students James and Lily are dead.

Protective, kind, just Lily and bold, boisterous, caring James.

And maybe she turns her back to Hogwarts-classes aren’t taking place anyway and her absence has been dealt with for a day already-and blindly makes her way down to Hogsmeade. She passes by the lights of the Three Broomsticks, where the jubilant and noisy celebrations ring so wrong within her. Past the dark windows of stores still partially fortified from years of war until her shoulder pushes the door of the Hog’s Head open.

Aberforth Dumbledore is just closing up when she stumbles in and orders a firewhisky in a monotonous voice. He knows her as he knows every teacher, from going for a drink and chat away from impressionable students’ eyes. But he knows her with a proud posture and clear eyes-a far cry from the witch in front of him. So he cleans up around her and locks the door and windows with a spell as he tips off her glass and fills one of his own.

Halfway through her third glass (not firewhisky, but something harmless that burns just as badly he keeps under the counter for the odd student on a dare) Minerva starts talking. About Lily and her refusal to give up on friends. About James and his skill in Quidditch and Transfiguration and abysmal grasp on the theory behind it. About relief after eleven years of war and the number of years leading up to it and how can they celebrate when so many are gone? About James and Lily’s little son, just past one, left alone with muggles, with a letter, next to the milk-And Aberforth’s alarm bells start ringing.

He may never have had children of his own, but he once had a sister he loved dearly and whom he took care of for long, too short years. Who had been harmed irreparably by people who didn’t understand magic. Leaving a magical child with muggles is the worst idea since dementors. And leaving a magical child of over a year (don’t they walk by then?) alone, outside, IN NOVEMBER does decidedly not sound particularly bright either, how in Merlin’s name did the boy end up in that situation? Oh, his brother had decided that would be the best course of action for the child? On the grounds he “has to be kept from his fame”? And only that? Are you quite certain the lad has nobody else left in the world, Minerva? Sirius Black is his godfather? That sounds about right, he and James snuck in here a couple of times, dragging those other two along. Well there you have it, Black must be worried sick if he can’t find his godson. Give the Potter boy to him, who knows what could happen to him in a muggle neighbourhood.

Minerva and Aberforth keep talking for the rest of the night. And bit by bit his staunch refusal to take his brother’s word as gospel on anything resembling childcare and his willingness to listen to her rambling contemplations and worries enable Minerva McGonagall to allow her own judgement free development, unhindered by decisions imposed by one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

#harry potter #minerva mcgonagall #aberforth dumbledore #albus dumbledore #what if #canon divergence #D.O.G.#alternate universe #universe altered #own content #mini fanfic?#fanfic #this escalated #so much for one paragraph #to be continued

14 notes · View notes

dearest-starboy · 3 years

Text

I had a dream there was your typical dog got lost from their home movie, except it's 2D animated. It was about this main character dog who lost his family in some kind of destruction and now attends a school for smart dogs.

(long post about my dream movie ahead...)

There was another dog there that had a fan for a head and apparently it was because they was experimented on. Our main character was friends with them and often the fan dog would help our main character get out of trouble.

One day a new dog comes to school. They act so much like a cat, talking about clans and such, asking the main character as to which clan is this. To which the main character says "I'm not in a clan. I'm actually a Tahaki." So this new dog is causing a ruckus, even sneaking into the teacher's lounge. The main character tries to stop the new dog but ends up getting caught by the teacher and is about to be in trouble, if it weren't for Fan Dog.

So now Main Dog was upset. Now even the teachers were against him. Everydog in the school like to pick on Main Dog because he's "too nice" and wants to help people. Main Dog decides that maybe he can find somewhere that won't treat him as bad, he escapes the school and runs off somewhere. He heard rumors from other dogs, that there was a dog paradise. And you had to walk a million miles to find it. So he walks, finds a Local Mall. It's almost partially empty, the most of the people staying inside, but there was no like... Urgency. But it was a little odd.

Main Dog goes in, his internal monologue goes over to how interesting this place is. He's in some kind of hippie store. Shoppers went over to pet Main Dog. Main Dog walks around the mall, getting some food from some shoppers, bumping into other pets. It seemed nice...

But then the mall gets suddenly destroyed too. With Main Dog still near it. He remembers this, because it was like what happened with his family. This makes Main Dog run to see if people were alright. Then there's a montage of him waking up adults and children in the mall and leading them out of the now destroyed mall. But he couldn't wake up everyone.

Then there was a police officer who comes after the dog and tries to kill Main Dog, but fails to do so. Main Dog runs off to find Doggie Paradise.

Meanwhile at school, teachers were worried because Main Dog didn't come to his usual classes. He's basically missing! New Dog hears all of this... And gets determined to find New Dog and bring his ass back to school. Not just because of school,but apparently in the files that New found, she needed Main Dog's help. So New dog runs off, with Fan Dog and Fan Dog's helper, Nerd Dog follow along.

Back to Main Dog, he's now at some kind of desert-like area, a barn shop where the owners had a small weiner dog and a grey cat with black spots. Main Dog asks for directions to doggie paradise. Weiner Dog says that his home is his doggy paradise... With one cat. And the cat usually takes over his dog house. The two dog and cat live outside, even when it rains. They don't leave far from the home. The elderly couple there were nice and they don't wanna leave them... And the elderly couple gave Main Dog and Weiner Dog some hot dogs. Cat was just chilling in the shade...

That's basically as much as I remembered before I woke up. I do remember that this "movie" was supposed to show the corruption of the police force, the secret experimentation of animals done by sadistic scientists, and it shows the army's willingness to destroy their own country when ordered to. I remember one scene where Main Dog was telling New Dog that they aren't so different, because Main Dog also lost his family in a destruction, just like how New lost her family in a failed robbery. (New Dog was never a 'clan dog'... Appearently his owner's daughter loved to read warrior cats books out loud)

#my dreams #dreams #dream movie #unreality #tw animal cruelty #tw animal testing #tw warrior cats #death mention tw #child death ment

3 notes · View notes

hazard-and-friends · 3 years

Text

Month 11

What the fuck. Holy hell buddy.

The focus here will be catching us up with the missed months and then next month I’ll do a 1 year retrospective.

The last time I posted one of these was January 9th. In late February, we moved from FL to WA; at the end of the month we moved into a new, one bedroom apartment. In mid-March I started a part time job which I adore (running puppy camp at a R+ facility! in the next few weeks I’ll start teaching swims and puppy play groups!). So first we did a massive amount of prep for the move, and then we did even more prep for post-move things like “meeting my family” and “oh shit there’s hills now” and in between the two we’ve made huge strides on the cat thing.

The details!

Night time: We have completely stopped putting him in the crate at night. There were two reasons for crating to begin with: 1) We didn’t know where Penny wanted to sleep and didn’t trust them when we were asleep and 2) to create good sleepy associations prior to the plane flight. #2 is no longer relevant and a) Penny wants to sleep Up or in the bed and b) Hazard laaaaargely doesn’t care about her once the lights go off. So he sleeps on the floor, after a VERY exciting 4 nights at the airbnb where he got to sleep in the people bed with the people (Penny slept on top of the catinets cabinets).

Crate in general: I spent 2 months working on the plastic crate not being the actual devil, and he did end up being happy in it. But he’s regressed to thinking that crates in general are prison spaces due to the plane flight, so it’s all to the good that he doesn’t have to go in at all anymore. Regular crate training (for trials) is on the task list.

Medications: He was on trazodone through late March. For the flight itself, I started him on gabapentin (100 mg 3x daily) 24 hours before the flight, and gave him a double dose when we left the apartment. All of this was cleared with his vet first, consult with your own etc. No side effects and the gabapentin definitely helped--but he was still upset at takeoff and landing. One of the reasons I wanted him to see a vet in March was to switch off trazodone and onto something actually validated in separation anxiety. He’s now on Reconcile, 24 mg once a day. At 2 weeks in: No lasting side effects (the first 48 hours were a little weird), and overall anxiety is decreasing.

Anxiety in general: IT’S BEEN A FUN TIME Y’ALL. Because trazodone and prozac (Reconcile) both affect serotonin, he had to come off trazodone for 4-5 days before starting Reconcile. Which confirmed a bunch of things:

Trazodone wasn’t doing very much at all. 90% of the time he was unchanged.

He is WAY more anxious on car rides than anyone realized. Once off trazodone, he started whining continuously on the way out--the way back is fine, either because he’s exhausted, he knows we’re going home, or we’ve already been to the superfunexcitingplace.

Trazodone wasn’t doing SHIT for his separation anxiety, which was unchanged.

He was only slightly more reactive to the cat and no more reactive to strangers. Cool.

Now that we’re 2 weeks into Reconcile: Starting to see big improvements in separation anxiety (more on that later) and cat tolerance is back to baseline (ditto). Car rides are still chatty but rapidly improving. No side effects, still playful and happy and silly.

Separation anxiety: Over a month, we achingly worked our way up to 90 seconds of me gone, or 30 seconds of me gone if I had done one preparing-to-leave thing. And even that was unreliable. That’s not right, guys. That’s the big reason we switched medications. Because keep in mind that all of this is while Jo was in the room with him. Yesterday I left to run errands with no prep and he just watched. I love Reconcile. It took about 5 minutes for him to settle down, but still. Plan is to bust ass and get to 15 minutes with no pre-departure cues and then add them back in.

Cat: Two steps forward one step sideways. While he chases her every other day or so, there are no gates in the new apartment. Sometimes we close the door to the bedroom so Penny can be unmolested, but often she’s the one who wants out, and she’s finding more and more places to chill. Moooost nights Hazard gets tied (harness to longline to my desk) but that’s more so that we don’t have to be constantly watching. At night there’s sometimes scuffles, but those end with Penny wherever she wanted to be and Hazard under the bed.

Weight: Vet had him at 44 lbs but he hadn’t pooped that day. He’s now on diet Hills SD, 1.5 cups, but he also gets around 100 pieces of treats a day so that’s surely impacting things. He’s looking better and better though--nice thigh muscles.

Formal training: I have completely jumped the shark and started teaching rally cues. As soon as the budget balances I want to get back to doing rally with Sydney’s trainer, and he’s picking up the basics really fast. Also, recall?? Is coming along fabulously?? Amazing. Love it when I don’t have to do anything.

I jest, I did a lot. We did a bowl game where I put him in a wait, put food in his bowl, then went to the other side of the room and called him. He had to come to me before going to the food, and that really helped recall click in a way that other games hadn’t.

Handling: After 11 months I admitted defeat and took him to the vet for nails. The vet tech’s verdict is that he sang at her but she got them done in 5 minutes so hey. We’re going back to the very basics and doing it to enthusiasm, not compliance, this time. Sigh.

Good note: I did teach him a chin rest and he now LOVES offering it. Amazing. Love him so much.

Stranger danger: the BIGGEST progress. In the last month he’s met both my parents, my grandparents, one of my siblings, and a friend. 6 people, 3 genders, aged 19-77, and a whole array of builds and heights. They’re all white but you can’t have everything. A growing theme is he’s much better in novel environments than in his home base, so probably we’ll be meeting people outside and then walking them in. But still, seeing huge improvements in his willingness to associate with strange humans and let them touch him.

Walks: 40 min morning/20 min evening, except for once a week when it’s a 50-60 min hike or sometimes we rent the field at my work... It’s hard to be a dog ;) Fitness is less his problem on walks than focus for that long, so the hike is actually easier for him than 40 min along a 35mph road. Still, we’re getting lots of nice perky behavior out and about.

#ELEVEN MONTHS SORRY WHAT #training log #april 2021 #hazard to society

6 notes · View notes

honeyedhealer · 3 years

Text

“Layers” Character Meme

LAYER ONE : THE OUTSIDE

Name: Victoria Hall

Eye Color: Warm hazel-brown

Hair Style/Color: Red, reaches just past her shoulders. She has somewhat long bangs.

Height: 5′5″

Clothing Style: Victoria is usually fairly casually dressed; she can usually be seen wearing jeans, boots and a button-up shirt or a top as well as a leather jacket of some kind. Occasionally she might be seen wearing floral patterned dresses as well.

Best Physical Feature: Her smile and eyes.

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

Fears: Losing the people closest to her; most ‘huge’ creatures.

Guilty Pleasure: Combining salty and sweet snacks.

Biggest Pet Peeve[s]: Procrastination; people who are late; loud eaters/drinkers; being interrupted when she talks; people who hover over her shoulder; bad manners; people who cough/sneeze without covering their mouth;

Ambition for the Future: Her plan for the future is two-fold; she either wants to find a nice place to settle down with someone, or she wants to continue traveling.

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

First Thoughts Waking Up: Coffee and breakfast

What They Think About the Most: Work and the schedule for the day

What They Think About Before Bed: Tasks that need to be worked on the next morning.

What They Think Their Best Quality Is: Her willingness to help others and her resourcefulness.

LAYER FOUR: WHAT’S BETTER?

Single or Group Dates: “I think I prefer single dates.”

To be Loved or Respected: “Um... Respected, I guess?”

Beauty or Brains: “Brains.”

Dogs or Cats: “Dogs.”

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU?

Lie: “No, not usually.”

Believe in Yourself: “Yes.”

Believe in Love: “I do.”

Want Someone: “Eventually perhaps, but no one in particular right now.”

LAYER SIX: EVER?

Been on Stage: “No.”

Done Drugs: “No, never.”

Changed Who You Were to Fit In: “No.”

LAYER SEVEN: AGE

DOB: “November 19th.”

How Old Will You Be: “Thirty-one.”

Age You Lost Your Virginity: “I think I was nineteen? Or I was eighteen and turned nineteen that year.”

Does Age Matter: “Sometimes, especially with large age gaps or when you’re young.”

LAYER EIGHT: IN A BOY OR GIRL

Best Personality: “Intelligent, passionate and funny.”

Best Eye Color: “Blue maybe? I don’t really have a preference.”

Best Hair Color: “Again, I don’t really have a preference.”

Best thing to do With a Partner: "Trying something new together, or maybe sharing our interests and hobbies with each other. Cuddling is also nice.”

LAYER NINE: FINISH THE SENTENCE

I love: “How far I’ve come since leaving home.”

I feel: “Ready to start a new chapter in my life here in Boston.”

I hide: “There’s not a lot I actively go out of my way to hide.”

I miss: “My family sometimes, but we keep in touch with letters.”

I wish: “There were more people here willing to talk about the current situation. A lot of people seem cagey for some reason.”

#info

1 note · View note

wildroseofarran · 3 years

Text

Facing Demons || Brett, Guildias, MJ, & Pete || April, 2020

Brett: It had been several weeks since Brett had received that letter from California. During that time the letter had sat untouched in his locked desk drawer at the station, coming out only once when it had been shown to his domitor.

The rest of the time had been spent keenly aware of its presence while contemplating burning it or trying and failing to work up the courage to get it out again. Brett could think of good reasons to do the former and only one to do the latter, yet somehow, he hadn't ever been able to bring himself to get rid of it. He hadn't been able to work up the courage either.

Truth be told, he had no idea what finally made him do it; just that while having his lunch one afternoon, he found himself unlocking that drawer and looking at that number scrawled on the bottom.

"God help me," he sighed.

{Text to MJ} Hi

{Text} Does the offer still stand?

MJ: MJ felt for his phone on the bedside table. Blackened out room. Still no night vision; still no desire to live in daylight.

The brightness of the screen burned his retinas, hissing like a cat. The phone bounced between hands in an exhausting rescue attempt.

{Text} Whoooo yes. Hi. {Text} If this is the sheriff absolutely

Brett: Right, new number. MJ wouldn't remember Brett's phone number, he should've self-identified. Silly mistake brought on by buckets of anxiety.

{Text} Yeah, sorry about that

{Text} It's Brett Parker

MJ: {Text} Sup man

{Text} Where ya want? When?

{Text} Please don't say right now my eyeballs are roasting

Brett: Brett stared down at his phone, worrying his lip between his teeth. He hadn’t thought he’d make it this far and didn’t have a plan.

{Text to Guildias} Hey

{Text to Guildias} I finally got up the courage to contact MJ

Guildias: {Text from Guildias} Are you alright?

Brett: {Text to Guildias} Kind of. Feeling anxious and like I shouldn’t be eating lunch because I’m afraid I might see it again

{Text to Guildias} He’s asking where and when I want to meet

Guildias: The next text takes a minute.

{Text} You wish for me to accompany you?

Brett: {Text} I would, if you’re still willing

Guildias: {Text} Where would you feel most comfortable?

Brett: {Text} Your place, if we’re being completely honest

Guildias: {Text} Set up the meeting, then.

Brett: {Text} What time works best?

Guildias: {Text} Eight o'clock. {Text} Have to yield to our schedule tonight.

Brett: Brett had figured as much. At least he had a few hours to calm himself down and work up even more courage to actually go through with it.

{Text} I thought as much

{Text} Is it okay if I come a little early?

Guildias: {Text} It'll just be me. I would prefer you first.

Brett: Brett took a deep breath. That much was a relief. Getting there first was just a small little thing but he knew from other experiences that it would help a lot.

{Text} Okay, thank you

{Text} Is it all right if I get there around 7:30?

Guildias: {Text} That's fine. Wait at the door for me and do try not to be alarmed by my appearance.

Brett: He frowned at his phone. Alarmed? Why would he be alarmed?

{Text} I promise I'll try my best

{Text} See you tonight

Guildias: Guildias felt under-dressing, shirtless as he had been for days, would distract from the occasion. A black loose-fitted V-neck sweater was slipped into and tucked. The left sleeve hung, empty from down the elbow.

A text was sent Callum, warning of the impending chapter about to unfold.

Brett: Now that there was a plan in place, Brett turned his attention back to his other conversation with a bit less anxiety.

{Text to MJ} No, don't worry. I'm working right now

{Text to MJ} Are you free tonight at 8? We can meet at Guildias' house

MJ: MJ stared for a moment. He shouldn't have been surprised. Something in the suggestion of Guildias insulted him.

{Text} Yeah. I'll see ya then

Brett: {Text} See you then

{Text} Also, just out of curiosity, why are your eyeballs roasting?

MJ: {Text} Daylight sheriff

{Text} I have this skin condition see

{Text} Where everything hurts and I'm dying because daytime

Brett: {Text} Right, forgot it's the middle of the day only for me

{Text} Sorry about that

{Text} I'll see you tonight

MJ: {Text} Get some vitamin D for me

Brett: {Text} Will do

Now to attempt to finish his lunch and the rest of his shift despite the queasy feeling in his stomach. He also had to tell Bo that he would be home late.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” he sighed to his sandwich.

Guildias: Guildias unlocked the one and only entrance at 7:15 pm. Walked around the house once and stepped outside with a pair of brown octagonal sunglasses. The moon was warm and far too bright to ignore tonight. Its image a reminder of Peter Graham. Made him curious enough to message the gentle beast as he took a seat on the edge of the porch.

Brett/Pete: Brett was still busy working up courage in his car somewhere, but Pete not nearly as much. The pub was quiet tonight, giving him a chance to check his phone.

{Text} Fancy hearing from you

{Text} What are you up to?

Guildias: {Text} Growing things. Relaxing by moonlight and thinking of you.

{Text} But truly, playing the role of mediator.

Pete: {Text} Awww, that’s sweet. Growing things is certainly one way to put it

{Text} Who or what are you mediating?

Guildias: {Text} A lost relationship.

{Text} I strive to squash avoidable headaches.

Pete: {Text} Nothing breaks the ice like food and booze

{Text} Could help avoid those headaches

Guildias: {Text} If it were only so simple.

Pete: {Text} There’s gotta be something that’ll help

Guildias: {Text} Time and proof and willingness.

Pete: {Text} Sounds like you’ve got at least one of those if you’re being asked to mediate

Guildias: {Text} We shall see if that is the case.

{Text} You take care now.

Brett/Pete: {Text} You too, man

{Text} Sending you luck and good energy

Two things Brett was in sore need of as he pulled up to Guildias’ house. It was just shy of 7:30 but he hadn’t been able to drive around in idle circles any longer.

He just hoped Guildias wouldn’t mind.

Guildias: Guildias watched, raised his hand in wave, cigarette pinched between two fingers. He seemed to be favoring his right shoulder, elbow leaned against the porch. The sleeve of his left arm was mostly empty, laid flat over his abdomen.

Brett: Brett didn't notice at first. He waved back and cut the engine, got out just as he always did. It didn't hit him that something looked...not quite right until he was walking towards the house, and even then, it took him getting even closer to see that Guildias' left hand wasn't poking out of its sleeve.

And actually...that left sleeve looked empty, didn't it? Almost like....

"Wait, wh--where's your arm?! Sorry, hi, I just--hell, I broke my promise already."

Guildias: "It's alright." Less panic than expected of the timid sheriff. Another tally in his progression. More concern than fear.

"It was by design. You'll find me in proper form next week. For now, I would appreciate your tying the end."

Brett: There was definitely more concern, along with an avalanche of questions that he planned to keep to himself for the time being. "Yeah, yeah, of course. Just tell me how."

Guildias: "Just a simple knot. Not too tight. The dangle is rather annoying."

Brett: "You got it." Brett tied off the sleeve as neatly as possible, careful not to stretch the material too much. If Guildias really would get that arm back, that sleeve needed to look decent.

"There you go. That better?"

Guildias: Where it seemed the elbow was shook back and forth to test. Acceptable.

"Thank you. Now, would you rather we go inside?"

Brett: Brett took a seat beside Guildias. "I'm okay to stay out here a bit while you finish your cigarette."

Guildias: "Kind as always." He knew the answer, but still offered the cigarette anyway.

Brett: He shook his head. “Someday maybe, but not today. Thanks though.”

Guildias: "How prepared are you for what's about to happen?"

Brett: “Not nearly enough.”

Guildias: "What is it you want to hear?"

Brett: “I don’t know. Part of me still thinks this is all a trick somehow.”

Guildias: "I've been in contact with him for some time. I would not lead you astray for cheap entertainment."

Brett: He nodded. “I know. I guess I just don’t trust him.”

Guildias: "Why would you? You haven't seen him."

Brett: “What if I’m still not able to after I do see him?”

Guildias: "Then you don't have to see him again. But you will have faced him."

Brett: Brett nodded again, taking a deep breath for good measure. "Conquer your demons and all that, right?"

Guildias: "Or leave them as tar on your body."

Brett: "I've got enough tar already. Don't want anymore."

Guildias: "Good man." The last of his cigarette depleted, Guildias forced himself to his feet.

"Shall we?"

Brett: He could feel the knots begin to form in his stomach as he stood. Every part of him wanted to get back in his car and race back home so he could hide under the covers, but his feet would carry him inside after his domitor.

MJ/Guildias: There was no concealing the sound of MJ's Harley. Its classic intention could be heard a quarter mile through the muffling trees. A sound which did nothing to spur Guildias from his languid arrangement on the stiff couch. Only in the silence of the engine did the Setite rise to his feet.

"Remain comfortable," was his only command as he approached the door.

Brett: It was like flipping a switch; or it would be, if Brett hadn't already been so nervous. First sign of that bike coming toward the house and the stress sweat started, the knots in his stomach tightened to the point of discomfort, fight or flight activated in every possible way.

If he spoke one of them would win out, so he just nodded. Never mind that comfortable was the farthest thing from what he was feeling right now. He just wanted it to be over. He wanted to have faced it without having to face it.

MJ/Guildias: Guildias greeted MJ at the door. He needn't explain. For this to be their meeting ground, MJ knew there were unspoken rules. Don't approach; be gentle with the ghoul. The look in the Setite's eyes told him to behave, and without prompt he nodded.

MJ's first thought upon laying eyes on the sheriff was that of a porcelain doll. Without smoothness and impossible complexion. Brett Parker was a delicate creature. His arms and chest had since filled and firmed. Everything else was distinctly the same. It was as though Guildias had done nothing but indulge the ghoul in vitae. His initial feeling was that of anger, but then like a slap remembered the deed which brought them here.

He decided upon a simple greeting, uttered softly, apologetic in inflection.

"Hey."

Brett: Brett didn't make eye-contact or get to his feet. Instead he picked a spot somewhere in the region of MJ's middle and gave a jerky nod in greeting and something that could reasonably pass for a smile.

"Hi." His voice had lost its ease in an effort to keep it from trembling. It was stiff, just like all the rest of him.

MJ/Guildias: MJ exchanged a glance with Guildias, looked to the emptiness of his sleeve and scoffed. The logical path to take was that of avoidance. For at least five minutes.

"Ya hear how that happened?"

Brett: He shook his head. "I didn't ask, I just tied."

MJ/Guildias: "Oh ya did that?"

"Is that a story you wish to hear?" Guildias asked.

Brett: He really, really doubted that a story that ended with Guildias losing an arm was something he wanted to hear, not even on a good day. But it was probably best to keep the conversation going, otherwise it would stall and the space would fill with tense silence and that was worse.

"Sure."

MJ/Guildias: MJ held his hands up in submission, then down slowly at his sides before taking a seat directly across. Guildias took to the arm of the couch by Parker's side. The Ravnos began to explain his visit, his friend Abel Harrington, and the idea to rescue a child they had suspicions had somehow fallen into through the Gauntlet into another realm. He then held both hands to Guildias.

"I couldn't go in. Had t'play security guard. But if ya ever saw Poltergeist ya got an idea of the goo they were covered in when they got out."

"The child is safe and healthy, according to news," said Guildias.

Brett: Brett had to fight to keep from leaning against Guildias for safety and comfort, but he appreciated his domitor’s nearness nonetheless. It was exactly the sort of thing Guildias would do.

At least the story provided plenty of distraction. There were parts of it—most of it— he could scarcely believe, things that sounded too fantastical to ever be real. He probably wouldn’t if he had any other job and didn’t watch TV.

“I remember hearing about that kid when he first went missing. Every law enforcement agency in the state got an alert. Glad he’s okay.”

MJ: "All in a night's work. Should give Guildias a superhero name. Somehow I've been dubbed Aquaman." He remembered giving Xavier his name, but couldn't for the unlife of him remember how he'd been worthy of his moniker. Something to ask when this was over; something to take his mind off of the meek look in the sheriff's eyes.

"M'sorry," he finally said.

Brett: After having braved enough to look at MJ’s chest, Brett seemed to lose his nerve and looked down at his hands instead. He had them clasped in his lap, knuckles white with the effort to keep them from shaking.

At a loss for a response, he remained silent.

MJ: "Ya don't have t'say anything. I know I fucked up. Ya looked at me like I was some... dangerous stranger. Thought if I could make ya laugh." He imitated a heartbeat. "N'then I had no thoughts. I know more shit happened, but I don't have it."

Brett: For a moment he swore he could smell lavender again. More than once a passing whiff of it had sent him into a panic, made him horribly ill. It was forever linked with that night in his mind. But apparently only in his.

“You don’t remember,” he said to the floor.

MJ: "I was two people. One that wanted t'love ya, the other wanted to... have ya."

Brett: “Which one is here?”

MJ: "Both."

Brett: “How?”

MJ: "Threat of death can do a hell of a lot. I became we became I." His hands came out then fell to his knees. "I keep tellin' people I'm not Victoria. I'm not MJ."

Brett: That didn't really answer his question, but he wasn't sure he really wanted an explanation. Some questions you just didn't want the answers to.

"Who are you?"

MJ: "I'm in this body, so you can still call me MJ, or Mayhew, or asshole. Whatever works."

Brett: "So you're still named MJ. Who are you. Why'd you send me that letter in the first place if you didn't even remember what you did?"

MJ: "Ya didn't deserve what happened. I know that much. Isn't that enough?"

Brett: "Would it be for you?"

MJ: "If it meant anything t'ya."

Brett: "And what is it that you want from me?"

MJ: "T'know you're okay."

Brett: "You sent me the letter weeks ago and I'm just now here with you. What does that tell you?"

MJ: "M'not askin' for forgiveness."

Brett: "It would be meaningless if you were."

MJ: "It'd be a child askin' forgiveness for the sins of the mother."

Brett: "It would be meaningless because you wouldn't know what you were asking forgiveness for."

MJ: He placed both fists together. Exactly.

Brett: Brett’s gaze fell to the floor.

So. This was it. This was as close to closure as he was ever going to get. He got to feel unclean for the rest of his life and have nightmares and panic attacks while the person who made him this way got...nothing. MJ got to be a whole new person, free of the burden of that night while Brett was left to shoulder it alone.

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting or if he was really expecting anything. It wasn’t like he had any reason to. That night had broken him in a thousand different ways but he was fully aware that from a vampire’s perspective, the whole thing had been his fault. For refusing. For being difficult. For believing, just for a moment, that he was a person who had the luxury of saying no. Life had already taught him that that wasn’t a word he could say anymore. He was a ghoul.

And ghouls didn’t get to say no.

Brett sighed. “I don’t know what else to say.”

MJ: "Ya ain't - Ya don't have t'say anything else. I'm... I'm glad ya let this happen. Us," he motioned between them, "but this wasn't for me. If someone did what - I want ya t'feel... safe again? I had a whole speech planned out, but I can't. That shit feels empty."

Brett: He shook his head. “I don’t. Feel safe. Not anymore, not for months.” Despite his progress, he still had bad days. When those bad days were really bad, they led to bad weeks.

The scent of lavender or pumpkin, a stranger touching him in public, a nightmare, a shadow on the kitchen tile out of the corner of his eye, the sight of blood; it felt like anything was liable to set it off.

MJ: "What d'ya want me t'do, Brett?"

Brett: That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? What could MJ do that would change anything?

Brett sighed. “Unless you’ve got a time machine...nothing. This is for me to deal with.”

MJ: "I ain't got one of them. Don't think it'd do ya good." Without thinking, he rubbed the back of his head. A tingle there akin to an itch.

Brett: “Sure as hell wouldn’t hurt.”

MJ: "How long's it been? What ya do since then? Ya'd lose all that."

Brett: “That’s easy to say for someone with no memory,” Brett said to the floor.

MJ: "Yeah, but I still got people."

Brett: Good for you, he thought, sounding sarcastic even in his mind. Why was he still here? There was nothing more to say, and they'd established there was nothing more to do.

He'd done it, he'd faced his demons, and all he'd gotten was the knowledge that his demons had gotten off scot-free. It was, as he'd said, for him to deal with.

Away from here.

"I'd like to go home now," Brett said, turning his head toward Guildias but not looking at him. He felt...defeated. Sounded it, too.

MJ/Guildias: "No one here will stop you," Guildias said. This was all for Brett Parker's peace of mind. Face the fear, as he'd encouraged for months. This chapter had finally reached its end.

MJ nodded, felt the safest route was stillness. Let Brett command the room and leave at his own accord.

"If ya wanna talk, or need me t'do somethin', ya got my number."

Brett: Brett acknowledged both of them with a nod and got to his feet. He couldn’t conceive of a situation where he’d want to turn to MJ for a favor or sympathetic ear, not now. Perhaps not even in the near future. But he supposed the offer counted for something in some cosmic sense.

That was about as much graciousness as he could muster at the moment.

He gave a sedate farewell to his domitor, gave MJ a vague grunt of acknowledgement, and let himself out, giving the couch where MJ sat as wide a berth as he could without clinging to the wall.

He wasn’t up for company, didn’t want to bring this mood and this...this home to Bo. So he’d drive around until he could find someplace quiet to be with his thoughts where no one would talk to him.

#Facing Demons chapter #brettmparker #anedendarkly #petegraham

2 notes · View notes