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coffeedepressionsoup · 11 months

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Somebody does love | MYG - They Meet

Pairing - Yoongi x F!reader

Summary - "What is grief, if not love persevering?" Two people are in love but that is not enough because sometimes loving requires courage.

This is the one where the two meet for the first time. Part 2 of Somebody Does Love.

Series Masterlist

Genre - fluff, strangers to lovers, eventual smut and angst

Word count - 3k+

Warnings - lil swearing, SMOKING IS INJURIOUS TO HEALTH! nothing else I can think of

Ratings - 13+

A/N - Apologies for the late update. But do let me know in the comments what you think of the chapter and what direction you want to see the narrative flow in. Also, this is not proofed, please excuse typos, tense, and grammar errors. And if you liked it, please please please engage with the post. Comment, like, repost. Your engagement is the sole reason I am pushed to write.

Your flight landed with a two-hour delay at 5 pm at the Incheon airport. After collecting your baggage and going through customs, you shot a text to your friend and waited near one of the cafes inside the airport for the crowd to die down. In about 10 minutes you lugged your bags behind you, pulling your mask further up your nose and pulling the bucket hat to right above your eyes.

It didn’t take long to spot Sammy. Dressed in all black, he had a casual gait that only he could have. It also helped that he carried a little cat poster. You could see his eyes crinkle with a smile as he saw you walking out, which mirrored your own.

“Oh it’s so good to finally have you here!” he said while hugging and slightly managing to lift you off the ground.

“I know. But I am so hungry and nervous and I have such a bad headache,” you mumbled into his jacket shoulder.

“Let’s get you washed, fed and rested. Come on,” he chuckled patted your back and took one of your bags before starting walking towards his car. Ah! His car. A black 2022 Maserati Ghibli Modena. One that he has been yapping about for months on end.

You honestly found it ridiculous. The inordinate amount of money people would pay to procure “luxury” items always confounded you. Sure, wealth commands a certain amount of comfort- Your brain stopped as soon as you sat down on the passenger’s seat of the car. Your ass was far more comfortable than it has ever been on any bed or couch that you have ever owned. Maybe you can allow yourself to see why someone would spend hundreds and thousands of dollars on a car.

Sammy closed the back of the car, with all your bags safely tucked in, and walked over to the driver’s seat. He saw you leaning back onto the seat with your eyes closed. He smirked behind the mask and sat down, swiftly starting the car.

“Still think this was an unnecessary splurge?” his mask had come off and he had that wide eye-crinkling smile.

“Maybe not,” you smiled to yourself. “How far is your place from here?”

“About an hour, with the school and office traffic now, some more.”

“My dead body will enter your residence, Kim Woosung,” you groaned and pulled at the seatbelt in annoyance. Both your mask and hat were now on your lap. Your head felt like the persistent beating of 500 drums all at once.

“Try to take a nap, I will play your sleep playlist,” he suggested.

You could not move another muscle to bother with a response. His reply was like a command. With your eyes shut, you shifted your shoulders to place your neck relatively comfortably. The last thing you remember is the comforting, low hum of white noise filling up the space around you.

_______________________

You walked out of the SNU campus, your colleague and friend Samairah in tow. She is the reason you are in Seoul in the first place. You met at an academic conference in Edinburgh when you were still PhD researchers. Dr Samairah Nazli is now a full-time professor of Gender Studies at the prestigious Seoul National University.

“It is just a contract for the coming academic year, Y/N! Come on! You will also get to spend time with Sammy.” You had scoffed back at your friend over the video call last November when she said her department wanted to invite you as a Visiting Professor for their newly-introduced Feminist Economics course and the existing Gender and Media course that a now-retired professor used to handle.

But a week later when you found yourself in a virtual meeting with the Dean, Department Head and the Vice Chancellor, the opportunity did seem intriguing. They did want to eventually offer you a full-time position. You would be tenured at 32! Also, you can work with Samairah again, after working on your first book together, you knew you would work together again.

And of course, you get to spend time with Sammy. One of your best friends. Kim Woosung of The Rose. But only Sammy to you. Crazy to think that you only met him about three years ago, at Friar Park of all places on the planet, but lord, did you love that dude to bits.

“Wanna grab a drink?” Samairah asks, as you both head towards the subway station.

“No, meeting the broker again.”

“This will be the 8th place she’s showing you?”

You shook your head as you dug in your pockets for the cigarette case. “No. Ninth.”

You lit a cigarette and said, “I really want to finalise a place and settle down before the semester begins.”

“Tough to do all that in what- 12 days now?” she counted the days mentally and grabbed the smoke you held out for her to counter.

“I wish I were a millionaire at times like these,” you took back the smoke and gave it a long drag as you stopped at the crossing. Samairah would go straight from here to catch her train and you will take a left and meet Hwang Seul-gi. Your realtor. Broker. Currently, the most important person in your life.

You could have opted to stay at the Siheung-Si staff residence for part-time and visiting faculties, but that would mean you would spend half the day in transit. And you hated transit. Motion made you sick. So yes, car trips with you are absolute joyrides for your friends.

You also wanted time to work on the manuscript of the next book you are planning. And you want enough time to sleep. God, you wish to have a carefree night of sleep soon. Not that Sammy’s guest room is bad, it is comfortable, and luxurious even when you consider the free cuddles from Woolfie, but it still is not a place of your own.

Although Sammy argued the opposite back when you told him about your year-long relocation to Seoul. He wanted you to live as roommates. Even offered you to pay for house-sitting in mirth, for all the times he would be away on tour.

Again, you loved the guy. But his social butterfly stages of self are something you could take in small doses. You knew what his schedule was like, how many people dropped by for work at his home studio, and even just because to share drinks. But a whole year of it would drive you mad. So Sammy finally gave up trying to convince you and connected you to Seul-gi.

The lovely Seul-gi who yet again showed you a wonderful place, reasonably near the campus. But the deposit itself would require you to sell both your kidneys, maybe an eye and even a good chunk of your liver.

It was almost 7:30 by the time you left the apartment complex and headed towards Sammy’s place. You could take a cab, but the crisp late February air made a nice weather for a walk. You were passing through a park, almost deserted at the time, when you heard a noise that alerted you.

It sounded like someone was struggling. Some animal. You could hear low grunts, probably a puppy or a kitten, but you looked around and saw nothing immediately. The noise continued so you stopped and tried to follow the direction of the sound.

You reached a bush at the side of the pathway and were sure that this was the location. But the sun was already down. Dim yellow lights sparsely lit the park pathway, enough for people to look and walk, but not enough to see within the bushes.

By the noise you could now tell that there was also a metal scraping noise, but barely so. You turned on your phone's flashlight but still saw nothing. You looked around but saw no one. Trying your best to not step on any of the plants, you entered the bush and squatted down with the flashlight.

“Hey, are you okay?” a low but heavy voice from above you startled you and the phone almost dropped from your grip as you stood up to see who it was. A man donning all black with a mask, a cap and a hoodie looked right back at you. Only his eyes were visible and the eyes were filled with concern. In the commotion of your entry into the bush and stomping around, ever so mildly within it had now increased the noise.

It sounded like a distressed kitten. You looked back down and could see one of the drainage grills under the dense foliage of the bush. You looked back up at the stranger and said, “I think a kitten has fallen into the drain.”

Before the man could respond, you squatted back down again and saw the drain and beady little eyes inside it clearly this time. You put down your bag beside you on the ground and put all your effort into pulling the iron rungs up. You could feel it move a little, but not enough to dislodge it.

“Hey baby, don’t worry. I will get you out of there,” you cooed through your laboured breath. By now, the stranger had joined you. You both exchanged glances and without saying a word you went in and pulled at the grille together at the same time. It seemed a lot easier with the two of you having pulled at it. With one arm, the stranger shifted the grille aside.

You peered down the drain and extended your arm to grab the kitten. The poor being was scared and cold and probably even more traumatised by all the strange and sudden commotion. You leant down completely, with your stomach on the ground and lowered yourself into the opening up to your shoulders to grab the kitten with both your hands.

The man next to you extended a cautious arm as if to make sure you don’t fall in. Well, the opening was not big enough for you to fall into. But you could get weirdly stuck. But soon he saw your body lifting up and his extended hand hovered over your body, never touching, but ready to help if needed.

You came back up with a feisty calico kitten in your hands who initially made a few tiny scratches on your palm but was now just shivering. The man beside you promptly took off the work jacket he was wearing over his hoodie and handed it towards you. How many layers is he wearing? A small part of your mind wandered, but you quickly grabbed it from him, giving him a thankful smile and wrapped the kitten up in the jacket and held her close to your body, for maximum warmth.

You looked down at the ground near your feet where your bag was and before you could bend over to grab it, the man swooped in and said, “I got this.”

After you stepped out of the bush, you turned to the man again and said, bowing politely, “Thank you for your help.”

“No problem at all. I have two cats of my own, I know the fear of losing them” he said in a calm but understanding tone. You looked at his eyes more closely while he talked, you could have sworn you had met him before, but didn’t know where.

You shook your head and replied, “Oh no, this is not my cat.” And then you explained the noise you followed. The man nodded his head and looked around probably thinking the same thing that you were. “Do you think the mother is around here somewhere?” you asked.

“If she were, she wouldn’t be too far away.”

You looked back down at the kitten, who had stopped shivering now but was still covered in a considerable amount of mud and dirt. You also considered checking if she was chipped and if the person could be notified if she was already a pet. “Do you know of any vet nearby? I am new here, so-”

“Yes, it’s on my way. I will drop you,” he held his arm out to point in the general direction of where you were headed to go back to Sammy’s. You started walking and the man joined you. Out of the park, and having crossed two traffic signals and taken two right turns, you reached the vet’s chamber. It was reasonably empty. You put your name in the register and waited.

The man sat in a chair next to you but one. He looked over to see you making conversation with the kitten. Of course, she won’t be able to say if she lost her mother or forgot her way home. But the sing-song voice you used clearly worked. He could see the large dark beady eyes of the kitten staring back at your face with wonder and trust.

He too looked at your face with wonder and felt a strange sense of trust and comfort. When he saw a person climb inside a bush at a more or less empty park on a random Thursday evening, he half expected it to be a madman. But when he peered in and saw the glow of a flashlight, he grew more curious.

He noticed how a part of your right elbow was scraped slightly, not that you seemed to notice. He also saw the muddy bits on your beige outfit. And then looked again at the kitten wrapped in his jacket, on your lap.

“Y/N,” the receptionist called out. You stood up and turned towards the man and gave him a curt nod. He blinked several times before nodding back at your retreating figure and gulped down a deep breath. Did you catch him staring? Even if you did, you didn’t let it show. Y/N. Y/N. He repeated the name in his head a couple of times.

It was only after the doctor examined the kitten and told you that she has no chips, and is healthy but is slightly malnourished, that you realised you have so far, that is almost in 30 to 40 minutes’ time, not once asked for the man's name - the stranger in black, now at pet clinic reception.

You just followed a stranger through a dimly lit park and ended up where you are now. When put that way, doesn’t sound like the safest thing to do.

The groomers had taken the kitten to another room to clean her up. The vet wrote up some supplements that the kitten could be given and asked you to wait outside. You walked out and saw the man, right where he was, hugging your bag on his lap, scrolling through his phone. Cap, mask and hoodie - still intact. You went up to him and sat in the seat next to him but one.

“Thanks for looking after my bag,” you smiled.

The man looked up at you and held the bag out, you could see the crinkles of his smile near his eyes. “Is she alright?” he asked.

You explained whatever the doctor said.

“Are you going to keep her then?”

Your eyes widened comically and then it dawned on you. You don’t even have a place for yourself. Where the fuck are you gonna keep her? And if the mother was still around, she would likely not be malnourished, so it is not like you can hope to reunite her with her mom.

Sammy would not mind, for now, you knew. But Woolfie? How would he react?

Seeing you stunned, the man chuckled, “You hadn’t really thought so far, had you?”

“Not really. My immediate instinct was to just release the kitten. But she’s so small and frail, I cannot possibly let her be anywhere else. But-”

Before you could say anything else, one of the groomers approached you, with the kitten now in a cosy, little carrier, all clean and dried. And he carried the jacket she was wrapped in, in the other hand.

You thanked him and then turned to the man next to you and looked guiltily down at the jacket on your right hand. “I am sorry about this. I will get it dry-cleaned and return it to you. And also, I am sorry I didn’t catch your name till now. I am Y/N Y/L/N," you draped the jacket over your other forearm and extended your arm for a shake.

“HI Y/N, I am Min Yo-,” he choked on his words before he cleared his throat and said taking your hand and giving it a firm shake, “I am Min Yong-Ho.”

You smiled back and walked out of the vet clinic. “I go this way now,” you pointed towards the left.

“Oh I go the opposite way,” you could see the hint of a smile but also maybe apprehension.

You had bought cat food worth a week, food bowls, a litter box, litter pellets and a small cat bed. You requested the store to deliver the items to Sammy’s address. In the meantime, you had texted the bare bones of your encounter to him. So he was ready to greet a kitten into his home by the time you went back and for the time being had locked his bedroom door, where Woolfie was fast asleep.

You nodded and asked the man, “So, Yong-ho, how do I return your jacket?”

The man looked around, eyes seeming frantic, almost like a deer caught in headlights. Until finally he pointed at a cafe on the opposite side of the road. “How about we meet at that cafe on Sunday evening?”

“Sure, I will bring back a spick and span jacket, I promise,” you said and asked, “6 PM sounds good?”

“6 PM sounds perfect,” the man nodded and waved back at you as you went your way - the kitten in the carrier in one hand, his jacket in the other and your bag, now draped as a sling across your body. He doesn’t know how long he stood there. But he kept staring your way for five seconds longer after your silhouette disappeared over the horizon.

Taglist: @majiiisstuff, @starlighttaek8, @yoongrace

#min yoongi #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts imagines #bts suga #min yoongi x reader #suga #yoongi fic #yoongi #agust d #kim woosung #suga x reader #suga fanfic #bts #bangtan #suga bangtan

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giyuulatte · 5 months

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alright i finally finished the uncanny counter 2 and…

hmm

my thots and spoilers below

THIS IS ALL MY OPINION AND IM BLABBING AND IT IS YAP TIME

it’s 1am so i’m a lil coocoo

once again all MY OPINION if anyone sees this

honestly speaking this season was alright. it def did not compare to season one, which i was expecting. yet it wasn’t up to par with it either. it felt like too much and not enough at the same time so it kinda fell flat to me

in season one everything was connected and there were very clear motives. from the bullying, so mun’s parents, the evil spirits, ji chung shin himself, and the corrupt government. and chung shin’s backstory made me feel for him which is what made him a great antagonist imo. like i loved him

but hwang pil gwang (slick back), gelly (hongjoong variant LMFAOO), and wong (just wong tbh)….mmph

i can’t really remember the beginning it took me 2 months to finish it but, dude and his crew showed up outta nowhere and just started creating chaos for funsies???? now don’t get me wrong, i’m all for villainy for fun but i just couldn’t get into for some reason with them. it just feels like their characters weren’t fleshed out enough for me to actually like them no matter how fine they are bc the whole crew could get it

and then we move to ma ju seok my adoring and loving husband. now this was something i could get behind. him going on a rampage trying to get revenge for his wife and baby, having enough rage to summon an evil spirit on his own??? like that’s what i’m talking about!!! i felt for him and wanted him to succeed bc that con man was also annoying as shit. i really and truly wanted him dead bc he was the absolute worst jfc

if the story only focused on him, and getting his revenge and having to take him down. and only him. seeing how far his rage could take him and what would happen ON HIS OWN without any outside manipulation pil hwang *coughs* would have been a lil more interesting to me and i think i would have enjoyed it more. ik pil gwang wanted his power n shit BUT WHY. like give me a reason.

TO ME hwang pil gwang and his crew added absolutely nothing to this for me. and gelly betraying slick back and all that other stuff just felt unnecessary to me. gelly not being able to do anything and literally almost every single time the crew showed up, and bc pil gwang wouldn’t help her. GIRLY STAND UP AND HAVE SOME RESPECT YOU ARE A BADASS TF YOU DOIN???? GET OFF YA KNEES

AND ms chu’s newest child lim jae yeol….why was he there??? and be honest. what did he do for the plot other than give ms chu another child and show her backstory

and then do hwi, lawd my sweet piano man. WE WENT THROUGH ALL THAT JUST FOR HIM TO FORGET HA NA IN THE END I WAS SO PISSED bc once again. what tf did he add. i feel like he could have been good to ha na, genuinely. imagine getting dumped by ya not girlfriend after y’all done hung out together and have each other hiccup remedies, and then getting attacked by someone who finna rap they verse in bouncy i am so dead

i understand they were trying to idk, give their characters more depth but pls

mo tak punching so mun was NAWT on my 2023 kdrama bingo card. and he didn’t even apologize for it!!!! i understand he was angry and upset bc he thought lost his partner and so mun was doing a bit too much but i just feel like that was outta character for him to do…. and for him to not apologize for it was just, what???

and don’t get me started on jeok beong. i was um, expecting a lil bit more. yoo in soo is a FANTASTIC actor. if you told me he was gwi nam from aouad before hand i would have passed out. THAT MF RANGE IS INSANE!! but, but, jeok bong could have been more. i love him to death but he stayed the same person the entire time. granted towards the end he did start meshing with the group a bit better and throwing ideas out and stuff but i dunno bruh. i was feeling him and not feeling him at the same time.

the same goes for kang ki young. baby if you say that was myung seok from attorney woo i would have passed out pt2. like he did his thang bc i deadass hated his character even tho he was looking good as hell

the lack of so mun’s friends also bummed me out bc i really like them and they are an important part of his life. wanted to see more of those three together as well. my found family was not found with them this season

but the counters dynamic was still a++ like that’s real family. teasing ha na and do hwi, ha na having to save so mun while he was in a coma, then going to yung to ask why so mun leaving, jeok bong calling mun his brother just *wipes tear* magnificent

and why tf did mun have to lose his powers again. we did that shit in season one there was no need for that tbh

nothing to say about ms chu god bless.

nothing to say about jang mool god bless.

mun going over seas and seeing wi gen’s daughter like ENOUGH.

just…. too much, and yet not enough at the same time.

but i still very much enjoyed 8.5/10 BAYBEE

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heliopauseentertainments · 1 year

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Field Check

Continuity: IDW1

Rating: General

Relationship: Megatron/Ratchet

Characters: Megatron & Ratchet

Summary: In which Ratchet runs Megatron through a quick neurological check after an injury.

Warnings: Ambiguous relationships

Crossposting: AO3 | DreamWidth

Fic below cut.

“Ratchet, this is entirely unnecessary.”

The medic decided to disregard Megatron’s protest as he passed his finger in front of the captain’s optics to see if he could follow it. An unfamiliar psychosomatic weight pressed down on his spark as he leaned down into Megatron’s personal space.

Just a quick neurological check, to see if Ratchet needed to haul him off to the medbay rather than leave him on the floor of the hallway.

Attentive red optics followed the finger just as expected.

“You’re the one who managed to get taken out by a minibot on a hoverboard.” Ratchet scoffed.

Luckily, most potential spectators had vacated the area when Megatron hit the ground. Only Tailgate lingered nearby, holding his hoverboard awkwardly like he was debating apologizing.

“If we’d known that was all it would take, the war would have ended much sooner. Now stick your tongue out.”

“No.”

Ratchet sighed.

“Well, you’re yapping, so your hypoglossal circuitry is probably fine. Swallow—Good.”

Megatron was talking without issue, could hear, and the optics and focal rings behind the glass seemed to be operating correctly. The focal rings were even rotating in a slow, clockwise spiral, a sign that Megatron was not actively in any distress.

If Ratchet wanted to be completely thorough, he would also pull out something pungent to check his sense of smell. However, under the circumstances, there were a few checks he could skip given the good signs he was already seeing.

“Turn your head and shrug—Good.”

It wasn’t Ratchet’s fault that Megatron had been knocked out cold for a few seconds when Tailgate’s hoverboard went wild and collided with the back of his head. No obvious external damage thanks to the helmet, but it should have also prevented a concussive reboot.

“Ratchet, I’m quite alright—“

“That’s up to me to determine, unless you want Velocity to pity you while looking you over.”

She was a good doctor, but her desire to comfort others sometimes outpaced her empathy.

Ratchet took a step back and gestured for Megatron to stand.

“Now on your feet. I need to check your balance and motor functions.”

Megatron got to his feet, but not quickly. He didn’t move with the same alacrity these days. Ratchet could sympathize.

Tailgate slunk away down the hall in Ratchet’s peripheral vision. That was for the best.

“Clap your hands—“ Megatron frowned at him in disapproval. “Yes, it looks stupid; just do it. You’ll have to do more stupid looking things before we’re through.”

Reluctantly, Megatron followed Ratchet’s orders, despite the embarrassing postures they would put him in: first clapping his hands together and then balancing on one foot, touching a fingertip to his nose and—

Well, the last step would be checking that the transformation cog was working properly, but Megatron’s had been medically locked in place to limit strain on his fragile internal components. Barring a new body, he would likely never transform again.

One more check Ratchet could skip.

The only thing more Ratchet could do would be to open Megatron up and make sure none of those delicate internals had been jostled too roughly. That would have been excessive and unnecessarily invasive for a bonk on the head. That and Ratchet had seen Megatron take far worse damage in the course of the Lost Light’s ridiculous adventures over the years than falling down in the hall.

He was fine.

Probably.

That unfamiliar weight on Ratchet’s spark lifted.

“Alright,” Ratchet said, finally setting his hands on hips. “I’m satisfied that you’re not in need of immediate medical attention.”

“I did tell you that from the start.” He did but he had also cooperated with whatever Ratchet had asked of him. “But I appreciate your concern.”

What Ratchet found odd, however, was nothing about Megatron himself, nothing about his seemingly good health.

What was odd was his own unexpected relief that Megatron was not injured.

Not that he had wanted Megatron to actually be hurt, but that sometimes it was still strange to be putting him back together.

All those years on opposing sides…. Ratchet hadn’t been sure he would ever truly be able to put that all aside, but perhaps he didn’t have to.

#fic #one shot #maccadam #idw1 #mtmte #megatron #ratchet #megaratch

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koifly · 1 month

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Taking the break back lol (I'm an idiot)

And that my guys is why you shouldn't make impulsive decisions while being emotional.

So uhm, this is a bit awkward

No break? I guess? Idk man, I'm still not reaaalllyyy well but I figured that taking a break off social media won't currently help me so eh, yeah. Cool.

But maybe don't expect a lot of art bc school started for me again and I'll be a bit busy with studying. But otherwise, usual optimism and content, life is beautiful, blah, blah, blah.

If anyone is curious how I'm doing after the whole tiktok-comment-section-drama idk, I'm just as fine as I was before, I just hope that those people will find some peace in their life and not waste their time on harassing strangers online. I'm personally fine with the fact that it happened with me getting kinda involved I guess, I just deactivated the comments to avoid any more unnecessary beef.

And just for all the people that are somehow involved in the drama, I wish that you all find peace, it will get better and uh, love and respect everyone. The world is far too beautiful to bring negativity into it anyway.

I apologize for yapping this much, just wanted to speak out my mind.

(Also don't be ableist. Not funny to harass ppl with mental disorders or physical disabilities, it really ain't.)

#koifly #james jayachandran #artists on tumblr #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta #yayyy #have a nice life #:3 #joy talking more than he should #once again #idk just rambling ig??

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melancholy-thots · 2 months

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Mobile Games? Mobile Games.

I have been dabbling slightly into this massive corner of gaming. Not really sure why it's never really grabbed me like other ways of gaming. I think it serves a different purpose. As is evident by all my other posts, I want to use my entire brain when I'm playing a video game. I want stories and characters and gameplay that grab me by the shoulders and shake me somewhat violently. And mobile gaming is for filling the small quiet moments in life that I prefer to keep small and quiet. That being said: look how cute these desserts are!!

Yes, like all good Zoomers, I am often seized by nostalgia or otherwise by the uncontrollable need to have a tasty little treat. Enter Pokemon Cafe Remix to fulfill both of those at the same time.

Just look at that art style. This game really is perfect when what I need is bright happy colors to kickstart my brain into functioning again.

I actually don't have any screenshots of the normal gameplay, probably because it's timed, but I really haven't seen anything like it. Maybe it's common in mobile games, but it's a shape-matching game where you drag the shapes across the touch screen and try to make as many of them touch as you can before lifting your finger. Extremely fun, though I'm always a sucker for a good match-three so grain of salt.

Oh yeah. I'm playing the game in French. So apologies to any non-francophones out there, but I promise there's nothing of note in any of these words. It's a mobile game. They want people coming back and spending money so there's daily rewards and there's a better version of this if you spend. I consider this level of monetization an endemic disease at this point. I would love if I could pay once up front and not deal with this, but the devs need to eat so I'll throw some money at these types of games every 10 or so hours that I get out of them.

Enough of me yapping. Look! I got my favorite pokemon! And it's wearing a little barista uniform! What a good little employee.

This just seems like an unnecessary workplace hazard. Having employees that are snack shaped.

#pokemon #pokemon cafe remix #Honestly worth a try #I haven't played in months #but I remember it fondly #I kind of fell off when they introduced having teams but then my team members didn't help at all #free rider problem and all that

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mxpseudonym · 4 years

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Too Many Questions

Pairing: Tommy x OC

Reader Gender Expression: Male Reader (if you don’t mind straight up characterization)

Length: 4406 words (allegedly)

Warnings: None

A/N: Very self indulgent, it’s just an idea that came to mind. I’m writing a part two because this was getting too long for a tumblr post. Part II is sappy and possibly spicy, we’ll see.

Edit: It was irking my soul that I split this piece into two parts so I combined them and now Part II doesn’t exist.

Tommy’s Betrayal

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Tommy's eyes snapped away from their leisurely journey tracing the lines on the man's face to his cool, unyielding brown eyes.

"Do you keep thinking about her because she was your last chance at salvation?"

The question was sharp and unavoidable. It was inappropriate. It was not a question at all, but a statement disguised in the most palatable way possible. Most importantly, it was telling. Who knew Tommy Shelby better than Jack Brewer? Only Polly Shelby, probably.

If he were honest, Tommy didn't even know how it happened. Jack was young, only just approaching his late twenties, yet he was the puppet master of London Town. His utterly charming but never quite polite disposition only helped unnerve gangsters and politicians alike when he monitored them like chess pieces. Rumors overtook facts, leaving the miraculous path Jack took from being a banker's apprentice to untamed royalty a mystery of folklore proportions. To add to it, Jack's boyish, handsome features made him unassuming.

"Don't mind the priss. He's just bein' a nuisance in the corner," Alfie Solomons grumbled as he led Tommy into the office. The rum runner nodded his head towards the back of his office, revealing a clean-shaven 22-year-old in an expensive suit.

"You're grumpy today, Alfie. You still skipping breakfast?" Jack asked, an airy arrogance to his tone. He didn't look up from the folder he was reading from while Alfie barked a sassy rebuttal, but when Jack did, his eyes locked with Tommy's. Suddenly he was standing and approaching the businessmen with an outstretched hand. His manner was as relaxed as his firm yet comfortable handshake. "Thomas Shelby, how are you? I'm Jack Brewer."

"I'd say nice to meet you, but I don't know yet." Tommy watched Jack's eyes sparkle.

"This has already made my day."

"Do you mind? We have a meeting?" Tommy motioned to Alfie, not bothering with many pleasantries. Jack looked to Alfie, a playful smile on his face.

"Alfie?"

"The kid's my partner anyway. He's a puppeteer and a walking omen if you can believe it," Alfie, in his own way, vouched for the boy.

"Anyone could have predicted the war between the Jews and the Italians. You just have to think," Jack said with a shrug.

"What kind of partners are you?" Tommy asked as he unbuttoned his suit jacket. Jack's eyes flickered down to take in his figure for a moment, not minding for a second that Tommy caught the motion. He even looked him in the eye after.

"Alfie provides security for me, and I help him out with projects here and there. He can let you know which ones."

"Ah, there's a lot of trust between you then." Tommy nodded.

"Not really. We just understand each other. If I were to betray Alfie, I'd lose business, reputation, and all the dark rum I can swallow. If Alfie were to betray me, it would be in vain, and I'd make sure he wouldn't be able to leave more than a glimmer of false hope to his kin when he passes. Right, Alfie?" Jack looked back to Alfie, his smile still reposed and bright.

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard you. Now quit your yapping and get over here, Tommy." Alfie motioned to the chair in front of him. Before he could, a hand reached out and placed itself on Tommy's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. It would have been warm if Jack wasn't seemingly wicked at heart.

"Don't worry, Tommy, I won't interfere. I've got work to do back here."

That was a good four years ago, and now Tommy sat shirtless on a chair in Jack's posh, surprisingly well-used kitchen. Just a moment ago, Tommy was musing about how he felt robbed. It took showing up at half past midnight with a knife wound to see Jack with mused hair, wiry glasses, and a long-sleeved thermal pushed up to his elbows. Now, Tommy was looking at that same boy as if he'd lost his mind.

"You've got a lot of balls, Jack, and you're toeing a fine line. Why would you say that?" Though it was a threat, Tommy in no way thought Jack would be intimidated. Just as he suspected, the young man remained unfazed by his tone as he clumsily splashed iodine on a cotton square.

"You've always wanted more than any man could have. You loved and married an aristocrat who betrayed you because she wanted the clean version of you, and you wanted to be that clean version. I believe we'd call that a pacemaker of sorts, someone to keep you going in a certain direction. Doesn't really work that way when you're the type to risk anything to meet your goal. But it was a good try. Be brave now," Jack said, mumbling the last part as he leaned in and focused on Tommy's arm. It was only a flesh wound, a narrowly missed shanking from a rival gang's guerilla attack turned into a jagged slash on his left bicep.

"You're an insufferable bastard," Tommy said finally.

"And you suffer plenty. Is that why you like me?" Jack's eyes shifted to meet the icy blue ones for a moment, and gave Tommy a cheeky smirk.

"When did I say I liked you?"

Jack thought to the many times they'd spent together in offices, various properties they owned, hotel rooms, and the occasional Bently. He nodded and gave a knowing smile.

"You're right. I'm presumptuous."

Jack could have just about anything he wanted- a spontaneous parade that would block traffic or a shady election alike. But despite their murky history, it was no secret that his favorite carrot on a stick was Tommy Shelby.

Jack would be dead if the tables were turned, and Jack had done what Tommy did to him. An attempt at betrayal that was now years old but still fresh in Tommy's mind by the power of something akin to regret. But Jack was a different breed of man, one that Tommy yet didn't have a grasp on.

"If you hadn't tried to betray me, you wouldn't be the opportunist I thought you were. And that would have been disappointing," said Jack after revealing what he knew back then, which was everything.

He didn't ask Tommy for so much as an apology. Instead, he was here handling Tommy like he was made of glass. Tapping the iodine against thickened skin was almost too gentle. It was unnecessary. Still, Tommy sat quietly and took it because it was past 1 AM now, and he was tired, and he liked it. In the glow of the kitchen lights, Tommy let his shoulders relax and his mind wander.

He always figured he'd end up at Jack's actual apartment. Not a safe house or his third most frequented London flat, but his real home. Thinking back to when Jack first opened the door, Tommy wondered if he'd gotten one over on the man. Jack looked surprised for a moment before rolling his eyes, holding the back door open, and telling Tommy the entry cost was getting his wound dressed. It wasn't every day he could outsmart Jack. Tommy spent a considerable amount of time pinpointing the address he'd been quietly holding onto for the better part of a year. Using it now gave away some leverage, but it was worth it to see this side of Jack, calm with the haze of sleepiness inside an equally quiet house.

Were they opposites? He often felt a pang of dreadful isolation, even when his family was bickering around Arrow house's large dining table. But Jack seemed so content in his home alone, not a soul around. He'd even sent his small staff of three away on holiday for the week to avoid being asked if he wanted tea throughout the day because it drove him up a wall.

Would he like to be in a place like this, Tommy thought? Padding through the house barefoot, a warming drink in hand. The bigness that signified luxury traded in for the gift of holding a conversation with someone in the next room and smell what's cooking from his bed. And with Jack. That would be something.

"That's why you let your guard down, isn't it?" Jack brought Tommy's mind back to the present as he finally secured the bandage. He always did that. "You're not usually this careless. Were you thinking about absolution? Did you see her again?"

"You talk too much. And thinking you're always right's going to get you killed."

"No, it's not. Aren't I right anyway?"

"No."

Jack hummed, looking Tommy over for a moment. He leaned down, one hand grasping Tommy's wrist, letting his fingertips graze over the delicate skin. The other found its place on Tommy's thigh, only the smallest indention made from his fingertips.

Jack leaned into him, centimeters away from allowing their lips to brush. Instead, he inhaled softly. His nose grazed against Tommy's cheek, then his jaw, down his neck to his collarbone then up again. Tommy could feel his heart rate speed up. How could this youngin possibly get a rise out of him like this?

"You don't smell like opium anymore, Tommy. I'm proud of you," Jack spoke softly in his ear and let his thumb stroke the inside of Tommy's wrist. Those for words made Tommy's chest leap. "That means you aren't hallucinating her because you're high. And it seems like a little more than just residual love."

"You shouldn't talk about her that way. You of all people don't have the right."

A warning.

Jack pulled away far enough to see the glossy eyes of the man he let in. It was a strange feeling to be looked at with undeserved tenderness, Tommy thought. Moreso, it was unusual to be cared for.

Are you sure you vetted your new house staff properly?

Did you take precautions at your new factory?

That ciggy's not your lunch, is it?

Whether in meetings, in passing, or on purpose, there were always questions for Tommy. And when Jack felt Tommy exceeded his usual recklessness, he let him know.

And now, Jack was asking more questions. Prying. He tilted his head slightly. A warning from Tommy Shelby wasn't to be taken lightly, no matter who you were. Jack just happened to take the weight in stride.

"I shouldn't talk about Grace like what?" Jack asked.

"Like you know how she was in this world, and how she stays with me now. You don't know anything about it."

"Tommy, you know I'm thankful to her for taking care of you. I was at the wedding, wasn't I? No ill will. This isn't about her anyway; it's about you. Who else do you talk to about her? You just keep it in, don't you?"

"Gonna refer me to another head doctor? Don't waste your breath," Tommy scoffed.

"I'm going to refer you to the best psychiatrists I know as long as we both shall live. I'll make you sick of me."

"Too late."

"Well, I have nothing to lose then."

Jack straightened, reminding Tommy that he was being held only because he missed the feeling as Jack went to the liquor cabinet. He muttered something under his breath as he grabbed two glasses. That's right.

Jack was condescending, smug, even mean at times when it came to business. But when it came to Tommy, the one who sat shirtless in his kitchen with his shoulders relaxed and eyes carefully observing him, Jack had never spoken words too sharp at him. It was unnecessary, Tommy thought, because he could take it. But perhaps it was more of Jack not wanting to treat him in a way that Tommy had to brace himself to take.

"That'll help you sleep," Jack said, placing the drink in his hand. Tommy stood, gulping the small amount of brandy with ease.

"Where am I sleeping?"

"So, you want to stay?" Jack raised an eyebrow. "I can call you a cab."

"Come off it, it's unbecoming to not host a guest in a house like this," Tommy motioned around him. The phrasing made Jack's cheeks warm. Unbecoming, like some sort of debutante being scolded.

"Is the most becoming thing to do offering you my bed?" Jack leaned in close once again, giving Tommy his big eyes full of faux innocence. When he wasn't in his high-end suits or talking quite frankly, Jack had to capacity to look adorable.

"Aren't you being presumptuous?" Tommy asked. Of all the things he could have said, Tommy didn't expect that to be the one that made Jack reel back like he'd been hit. The young man moved to lean against the wall and pointed to the stairs.

"I have several guest rooms. I don't know if the beds are turned down or what that even means, but they're there."

It was late, Tommy remembered, and Jack wasn't energized enough to keep the banter going on. Not like this. Jack took a sip of his drink and waited for Tommy. He was always waiting for Tommy.

"Is your bed turned down?" Tommy asked.

"I just told you I don't know what that means," Jack said, setting down his glass then stretching. He let his arms rest above his head. The motion revealed a toned stomach and just how low on the hips Jack's cotton bottoms actually hung.

"So you'll have to come to check for yourself, old man."

At nearly 2 AM, the only thing either of them had the energy to do was sleep. Any other revelations about Jack would have to wait until morning, and Tommy wasn't disappointed.

As he moved Jack's head from his chest and arm from around his waist, Tommy found that Jack was dead to the world when asleep. He was also prepared no matter what, evident by the new toothbrush and folded note sitting in an empty glass on the bathroom counter. The message read, 'Tommy, suit in closet, red hanger.' Did Jack know he'd wake up before him? Tommy scoffed but dressed anyway.

"What the hell are you still doing here?" Jack said through a yawn as he stumbled into the dining room at noon, where Tommy was sitting with a book and a coffee cup.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"It's fine. Taking all that smoke in your lungs is probably going to kill you," Jack said, motioning to the cigarette that was still smoking in the small ashtray on the table while he passed through to the kitchen.

"Taking its time, isn't it?"

"Don't say that. You're the only one making this fun."

"What?"

"This whole race to the top we've got going on in this city. Or the world, I guess."

"You don't have a legacy you want to leave behind when you grow old," Tommy asked. A moment later, Jack was standing in front of him with two water glasses and no willingness to accept no as an answer when he encouraged Tommy to drink.

"I'm not growing old. Someone'll get wise and kill me off before that."

Jack was as confident about this as everything else he said. He was more cynical than Tommy thought. He thought back to the one time he asked the man about the war and if he fought. Jack's answer always intrigued Tommy. Jack averted his gaze, and before quickly changing the subject, he said, "Just a bit." Whatever happened, Tommy figured it changed him.

Jack sat and made no mention of how the table's head was always his place, but Tommy could have it for now. He pulled a pastry from a dish sitting in the middle of the table and placed it in his mouth to free his hands. One picked up the paper that had clearly been read through, and one shamelessly commandeered Tommy's coffee cup. A bite of the buttery crust washed down by the coffee that made him grimace gave Jack the energy to try and read the paper. Tommy watched as the young man shuffled the pages, becoming more disgruntled by the minute.

"Why did you do this?" He asked Tommy, exasperated as he tried to find which loose insert continued the front-page story. Once he gathered it, he folded it together correctly and took a large bite of his pastry, only to be interrupted. Tommy tried to smother his growing smile and laugh to no avail. "What?"

"You're a brat."

Jack's eyes widened. He blinked for a moment, both because he never expected Tommy of all people to call him that and because he'd never seen the gangster laugh so heartily before. His mouth still full, Jack asked to clarify,

"A brat?"

"Through and through. Fussy from the moment you woke up," Tommy chuckled again. Heat crept up Jack's neck and face, but he let himself huff in amusement.

"I'm just particular."

It was a surprisingly eventful news week- horse races fixed to perfection and hollow speeches from political figures made to the public. And yet Jack found himself more interested in the unchanging man before him. He rested his chin in his palm and took Tommy in.

It was true that he hadn't expected Tommy to show up on his doorstep. But, if Tommy hadn't found his address by now, he would have been disappointed. Showing up like he did, however... Well, Jack had wanted to invite him on his own accord.

The whole thing with the Changrettas and ultimately Solomons was finally over, and Tommy could come back to him in London. They'd planned to meet on Tuesday, something about golf. Yet here, Tommy was instead, being somewhat of a nuisance. He hadn't asked if he could smoke in the house and didn't ask where the coffee was before he made. Not to mention, he handled his grouchiness with a bite of his own. A smile reached Jack's eyes and radiated through his body- this was an excellent second choice. It was like Tommy belonged there.

Almost.

"Try not to look so enamored; it's off-putting," Tommy spoke, not looking up from his book on... political influence? Something happened...

Jack reached out and placed a hand on Tommy's neck. His fingers moved up to feel the texture of his ridiculous hair cut, finally earning a glance. Jack could only imagine what Tommy would look like if he actually grew it out. The newspaper was an afterthought as Jack leaned over from his chair and pressed his lips against Tommy's. Soft, chapped, and chaste, but just what he needed all the same.

"Do I put you off?"

"All the time."

"Why are you wearing this?" Jack's hand moved to the collar of Tommy's shirt. Well, the shirt he got Tommy. The suit itself was expensive; a Belgian tailor with magic hands met Jack's requirements from the light gray color to the silver cufflinks.

"Didn't you tell me to?"

"Mm, I did. But if you're staying, then I'm just going to get you out of it."

"So straightforward."

"Says the man whose means of seduction involve alcohol, white lies about petrol, and some variation of 'let's fuck.'"

"Didn't say it was a bad thing."

"I'm making more coffee."

Jack had only placed his (formerly Tommy's) mug on the counter when the well-dressed man caged him in from behind.

"Are you not going to keep your promise?"

By nature, Jack was fearless in a way that surprised Tommy. If one believes death to be an inevitable luxury, there isn't a situation that could faze them much. In Jack's mind, either the consequence was easy, i.e., death, or it was difficult but something he'd get over at some point. Either outcome led the young man to do precisely what he wanted always.

The first time they kissed, they stood in Jack's office. Tommy was leaned against his desk, and Jack wasn't shy about leaning into him. Now in Jack's kitchen, he held that same energy. Turning in Tommy's arms, Jack wasted no time pressing their lips together again, with the older man meeting him halfway.

Tommy wasn't exactly sure how Jack managed. His kisses were dangerous- straightforward yet teasing, intense yet languid. It was helped only by the fact that they fit well together. Hands cupped a young man's face as a bold pajama-clad thigh moved between legs to press against the front of trousers. Thoughts of money were pushed aside as an expensive waistcoat was clenched between eager fingers, now a simple tool with a single-use: making them closer.

Even when he was dangerously close to light-headed, Jack considered this a worthy moment to push himself. The short breaths passed between kisses would have to suffice for now. For all Tommy called Jack bold, the young man couldn't help but let out a chuckle at how expertly dominant Tommy could be. A hand pressed to the small of his back, moving Jack and his eager thigh that brushed against Tommy's trousers closer while kissing down his neck.

"Enough," Jack breathed. Tommy looked up, unsure what he meant until Jack pushed their lips against each other again and let his hands rest on Tommy's belt. "Do you want a bed or a couch? Because I could have you right now, and I will if we go further."

The couch was closer.

Tommy's ability to concentrate was dwindling with each undone button. Open-mouthed kisses landed on every inch of available skin, making it a battle of moving fast enough to continue and not getting overwhelmed by so much contact after being touch starved. Maybe that was Jack's strategy. Sharp pain sinking into his shoulder made Tommy wince. It was a reminder that he'd been gone for a while. It was illogical and unnecessary to aim for exclusivity in whatever they called their relationship. Surprisingly, that's what made it all the more desperate.

"If I have a craving for Tommy Shelby, it doesn't matter who's around."

Jack ran a tongue over the indents of his canines and dragged it up his neck to stop and bite Tommy's earlobe.

"Hurry up," he breathed his command.

"Did something happen?"

"When?"

"I don't know." Jack shrugged and tapped his cheek. Irritatingly patient, he was. They were in front of the fireplace in the den now, a fur blanket draped over them both as they laid in their underwear. Early afternoon sun poured through the windows, illuminating the swirling smoke that left Tommy's lips.

"Then why ask?"

"Because I could know, but I always like to give you a chance to tell me voluntarily. It makes me feel less like you'd be lying to me every day if you could," Jack said, always casual, before stealing Tommy's cigarette. "Go ahead."

It wasn't that Tommy was interested in lying to the man all the time. In this instance, it was more that this was a problem Tommy got himself into and had to get himself out of. A problem that Jack had no doubt predicted like he predicted everything. Tommy thought back to his business with the Russians. Jack's first time in the Shelby Company Ltd. offices and Tommy's first time seeing the young man's face drop happened concurrently.

"Tommy," Jack almost sang his name, which only added to the tension. Tommy was a child about to be scolded for doing something he shouldn't have. "Am I too boring for you, Tommy? You had to go to the Russians?"

"A pest, always. Not boring though," Tommy said as he cleared his throat. He went to light his cigarette, giving it more concentration than required. Looking up, Tommy almost paused at the expression in Jack's eyes. There was no smile, genuine or otherwise, only the man he'd heard the haunting rumors about. What was the look he was getting? Annoyance? Disbelief? Frustration?

Instead of speaking on whatever it was, Jack placed a hand over his mouth and looked away. He swore under his breath and mumbled a few words before looking back. Maybe Jack should have told Tommy he was stupid and that the plan wasn't worth it. Doing something like this would be the nail in the coffin for any hopes of an utterly above-board business. But Jack, for once, chose his battle.

"That Tatiana Petrovna knows everything about you. The details of you being a widow, your brand of tobacco, the way you like to sin," Jack said instead. "And don't leave any weapons around. She's crazy."

Jack was good at being one step ahead or quickly recognizing when he wasn't and course correcting. But, though Tommy knew Jack wasn't a stranger to killing a man point-blank, there was still a grit that he was missing. Too eloquent and methodical to handle the Italians from New York. So he told Jack everything and how he was victorious using his Romani prowess. Jack wasn't the only strong one.

"Ah, so you're here because Polly threatened to lock you out of the safes again if you didn't take a holiday," Jack mused. That was his real question from earlier. Why the hell are you still here?

"Something like that." Tommy nodded.

"What are you going to do when you start shaking again? And hearing things?" Jack asked, offering the cigarette to its original owner.

"I'll deal with it if it happens, and it might. Nothing gin can't fix," Tommy said. He reached for the cigarette, only for it to be snatched away and tossed into the flames.

"That was a test. You failed." Jack rolled to his side, propping himself up on his forearm.

"I'm not sick, hm? I've shut the door on the war. I'm not Arthur. I can manage." Tommy could feel himself warming with anger, no, defensiveness at the idea that everything he did was to be questioned.

"I'm not letting you run around here like a dog catching rabies."

"You don't have a say in as much as you think you do," Tommy reminded him. Jack smiled in response, his eyes lightening up. He shifted his fingers then brought them to Tommy's temple in the shape of a gun.

"Go to a doctor, or I'll kill you myself. Bang."

He made a shooting motion then pulled his hand away, blowing imaginary smoke from his fingers. Tommy wondered if Jack ever made jokes. No matter his tone of voice, he always said what he meant and meant what he said. There was no getting out of this.

"What, are you my father now?

"Would you like that?"

"Christ,"

"Not quite him, either."

Tommy Tag: @soleil-dor; @amysteryspot; @captivatedbycillianmurphy

Peaky Blinders Tag List: @lilymurphy03

#Idk what this is but it felt nice to write #Peaky Blinders Fanfiction #Tommy Shelby Fanfiction #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby x OC #Tommy Shelby x male!reader #Tommy Shelby x Male!OC #Tommy Shelby imagine #Peaky Blinders imagine

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ghoulishhusband · 3 years

Text

I just realized I can actually talk here. Like this is my account fuck u

Fucking uhhhhhh, hi ig lemme ramble abt my God ocs yea?

Ignore this part if you don't wanna hear (likely) unedited rambles lol it doesn't matter

CW: neglect/abuse, assholery/narcissism, manipulation, tread lightly!

read the under cut owo

Also don't steal my art I'll fucking?? Fight you????

I have three main gods that I wanna talk abt especially bc they've been on my mind lately.. Less get it, side notes are in (parentheses) and are bolded cause I have perception issues whoo I don't want it to jumble together is my point lol

First up is my asshole,

Giodine

they/them (preferred)

god/godself (i like pronouns that fit my characters, so I'm giving a bunch away for one night only at--)

ID : Giodine is colored with gold-ish yellow skin and ginger hair. Their eyes are a muted purple and they have tiny eyebrows. Their lips are a muted brown and are full looking, their nose is sharp and points down. They have wings for ears and is wearing a blazer with a long-sleeved, collared shirt underneath it. The background is beige with a yellow square and a dark purple square partially encompassing it. It is signed GH (for ghoulish husband), Spork, 21.

(lemme know if that helps at all! I'm sure I can do better so lemme know!)

If they look weird here it's bc I accidentally made their face too long but believe it or not this is in fact just a doodle Ik I'm so fuckin talented babes.

Anyways, they're basically the first God to ever exist on my version of earth (though even that is fickle rn, world-building is hard unless I hyper-focus on it, and haha Guess What I Haven't Been Thinking About) and they're very egotistical and selfish. As I'll probably yap about later is how they're manipulative as well, especially to another God I'll mention, and very neglectful to the other... other one.

Their partner(professionally), or fiend as they call him, is sam who for the first few eons was, unsurprisingly, absolutely terrible to him. A few tender moments are few and far in between in what could only be described as a completely rancid relationship. I'll describe giodine's side and in sam's lil ramble, I'll describe his :]

I have to explain this because it's a big part of the lore and how they can't work together, even when one of them is very much near The Void (technical death for gods) BUT basically, with Sam, giodine created purgatory. The issue here is that they basically seduced sam into doing it. Well, even if they hadn't, sam was in lesbians(happy pride month lmao) with giodine and would've done it anyway. But the ISSUE is that with the creation of purgatory came complications. See, my gods have to take time to develop into their power, and considering giodine was first and sam was around 666th.. you see the issue. Sam wasn't into his complete power yet and thus lost a giant part of it that went into purg.

See, giodine saw no problem with this (until much later, they do get a VERY SLOW BURN redemption arc cause this ain't even the worst of it), they got what they were aching for out of them and thusly had no need for..sam. They laid him in the spot where she was made (fwi it isn't inherently sexual, it can be, but literally, they just merged together-- taking bits and pieces of each other (which sam did not have enough of) and earth and light yadda, yadda I'll post the story I wrote for that later if I'm up to it) and left him there in the grass.

Again, they saw no problem with that, the deed was done, they didn't care anymore. A common issue in their qualms, sam and Giodine. They did find an issue in Sam finding an issue in the lack of aftercare, which resorted to any message going to or coming from sam going straight to his assistant and going back through them for a couple of thousand years. They found that infuriating-- how could he not face them over something so small! and for years?! it was ridiculous. After forcing a face-to-face meeting, a heated proclaim of hurt from sam, and a bitter agreement to meet up every now and again, they got what they wanted from him. Again. It was a business after all, there was no point in making it harder than it needed to be.

Giodine doesn't necessarily like boundaries and tends to overstep sam's frequently. They also don't like his reaction to his boundaries being long jumped over, which thusly ends up in disgruntled messages being sent back and forth between them and his assistant for a month or three. It slowly gets through to them, but they tend to say some stupid shit and if they want sam to stay, they have to try and avoid mentioning how "overly sensitive" he is to something that happened eons ago.

(quick mention, there isn't like. time. here. so in all honesty, giodine probably counted earth days instead of Heaven 'days' to get that) Soon into their arrangements to meet, they seem to get on at least tolerable terms, obviously, a few meetings where neither of them feels like going apeshit and taking proper shapeless (or in sams case, he's got a newfound form for ANGER OO just for giodine 🤗) forms isn't going to fix a grudge that has yet to be apologized for by the way. But it's a start to a very long process down the road. Tolerance.

Giodine as an entity is very fickle and rude and demanding. They tend to have a short temper that no one else is allowed to have or comment on-- They were the first therefore they were the most important!

This is very obviously an issue. But it's mostly directed to purgatory. Almost all of their seething rage is pointed towards the poor entity, she's barely been alive yet and they already seem to hate her for things she doesn't know how to do. Honestly, I don't think Purg will ever fully forgive them for the unnecessary abuse of her character, but just as Sam and Giodine get on better terms, they had barely just begun fixing the hole in their relationship. As of now, Sam/Giodine don't have any minor plot points with purgatory other than the major one so I don't have a lot to say about their relationship right now. Maybe one day.

I'd go into details, seriously, but I just wanna ramble about their relationships with each other and their impact on each other's existence. Hope you don't mind a few secrets 😉

But, now, it's time for a new God, one I think most people take a liking to...

Sam (Samuel)

He/him

ID: Sam is surrounded by clouds in the light blue, fading to a darker blue sky and the yellow sun. His horns are a darker beige, which is being highlighted by the sun shining down on him, he also has pointed ears. His skin is red which is very prominent in the sun. His eyes are completely yellow, his hair, beard and mustache are also black. He has an orange scar crawling up to his Adams apple. His wings are a darker grey which is also being highlighted by the sun. His nails are painted black and his hand is holding up the black fabric barely covering his shoulders. Around the painting is a gold and red shaded frame with swirls complimenting each side and a crystal at the bottom of it. It is lightly signed GH, for ghoulish husband.

Sam, Sam, Samuel.

If you don't realize right away, Sam is basically Satan, he's the ruler of hell

Like how giodine was the first to appear on earth, as mentioned before sam was 666th for funnie reasons. Sam was made from bugs, dried blood, and sunlight which sounds pretty gross, but he's far from it. He's a silly, yet neat, guy. He wears Hawaiian shirts and khakis (not around giodine lmao) for cryin' out loud! how bad of a person can he be? Apparently to giodine (for a while obviously) he was the most retched entity to exist. This very much hurt him considering the amount of fake care they showed him before. With a mixture of confusing feelings (which wasn't supposed to be a thing but Univerce went "lmao you'll be fine" and left... short explanation, Univerce is the Universe and is the entity who simply builds these planets and gods that'll appear there and leave them to their own devices, xyr not extremely important in this story. Nor would they care.) and feeling used, he decided that no he wasn't going to take that.

If there is one thing Sam knows how to do is to self preserve himself, even if that means getting passive-aggressive notes sent to him every once in a while. While this period, Sam was surprisingly the least productive (unfortunately giodine knew this and eventually mentioned it in one of their meetings which made him hide away cause like hell giodine was going to be critical of /him/) but he managed. It wasn't terrible, but unfortunately, Sam being able to talk it out with someone who does practically the same work as he does and gets newer, more helpful ideas was better in the long run.

Unsurprisingly, Sam was the first to initiate the healing of his and giodine's relationship but it wasn't reciprocated. Who would've figured, aye? Giodine kept pushing it back onto him and ignoring any progress that could've been made before. Which was frustrating.

The painting above was 'painted' by giodine, which is sorta where their relationship gets somewhat on an understanding of each other. Giodine gets to take a deep long look into who Sam is and tries to express it but it never fit him, it makes them realize that they never really-- truly got to know him. And all it does for Sam is make him even more confused about his place in giodine’s mind. He figured it's another fluke to get him to do something, so he ends up distancing himself when they start actually reciprocating his friendship advancements.

Suddenly, like a flash, Sam was forced to stay with giodine which is where the majority. I'll explain.

Sam...isn't actually the ruler of hell. Anymore, anyways depending on the timeline. His and purgatory's relationship has always been complicated, she always avoided him, and when they talked she always seemed scared of him. So in the end, they've never been close. Distant. Sam always wanted to talk to her, he made her, but if she didn't want to talk to him he wouldn't force it. But imagine his surprise as Purg singlehandedly took over hell in a hazed frenzy.

And not only that, had a personal vendetta against him!

Well, that would be the only explanation to Sam considering how he ended up broken and barely 'alive' at the hands of her. Horns broken and in tatters, pain and almost obliterated it felt like a hate crime. He didn't know what to do when he made it to the office, Purgatory was creating chaos outside his door and barely being able to breathe he felt like it was the end. So he called giodine.

Purgatory

She/her

ID: Purgatory is surrounded by flowers that are dark grey and white. The light fades down into a dark green. The light shines down on top of her straight, white hair that has yellow flowers tucked into it. Her skin is a dark brown and has a orange-ish yellow scar on her shoulder trailing up to her neck. Her skin is also highlighted by the sun. In one of her eyes, her sclera is black with an orangey, glowing iris. As for the other eye it it has a white sclera and the same, glowing orange iris. She has wings for ears, one dark grey and one white along with beige horns. She has a white fabric covering her chest. The frame is gold with white accents, but also has vines and moss crawling up the side.

(may have goofed a bit and forgot to color the sclera of her other eye white but ignore that pls)

Purgatory was made by Sam and Giodine, but to her it felt like a mistake. Why make someone that you’re going to be terrible to, she believed. Giodine seemed to hate her and eventually made her section almost obsolete because she simply wasn’t able to keep up with the backlog that she wasn’t taught to deal with. Not only that, she didn’t have any help with any of it, it was almost like she was expected to just do it on her own. Until Death came along to help, but that’s not what we’re going to be talking about right now.

And also, Purgatory is Purgatory yadda, yadda, I wont insult your intelligence.

Giodine’s thought process (other than wanting to be Real Close to Sam and once that thought filtered out, promptly ignored it) was that all the extras that don’t fit in either category of their thought of good and evil they’d go to her. (doesn’t matter cause in Sam's system it filters through ‘levels of assholery’ and depending on how bad you are you either just vibe in the upper city under rule of capitalism and possibly many under paying jobs or being actually tortured for his amusement if you’re just evil. Morally grey. Anyway, it could work p well in heaven if giodine wasn’t such a damn stickler.) But in the end, every day, less and less people ended up in purgatory, leaving her with barely any people and more verbal abuse from giodine who ‘HAS to take them or they would be more dead than they already are’. You see the pain she has to go through, right?

~Idea section, this is probably not canon anyways so dont take it serious~

My thought is that another oc (BA, you may have heard of him idk) takes over simply because Purg took multiple hims from alternative timelines (which isn’t allowed but what’re they gonna do, undead a dead clown? multiple times from multiple timelines???)) because she adored him and they figured ‘well we gotta redo purgatory may as well do it like this’ and make him a demi-dead-god. i think thats a cool idea right? anyhoo

~Idea section over uwu~

Purgatory overall is a fairly timid character, she doesn’t like conflict, is easily overwhelmed, and generally keeps to herself. She doesn’t see the point in being in any drama if she’s just going to be yelled at and scolded even if it’s not about her. The only way i could describe her taking over hell is this:

She was tired. She was angry and after feeling like nothing was in control or in her hands, she snapped. Why doesn’t she get anything or get to be ‘all powerful’ but they do? She knew if she took on Giodine she’d likely get thrown to the void, but sam? He felt fair game. Considering her fear of both of these gods, she planned and got her courage up to take him over. She had considered negotiations but in the end, she ended up going into a haze and ruining everything in sight. She was more powerful than she thought and once she started, she didn't stop until Death restrained her and Sam was already in pieces at God’s doorstep.

The aftermath was fuzzy for her and for everyone really. Godine was planning a take back hell while actually worrying for sam, sam was planning for a retirement, and she was being consoled while trying to get in contact with sam to apologize. Giodine wouldn’t dare let her talk to him, until she just showed up in their office. She didn’t have a problem with Sam, honest, she just was going to take shit over, but it got out of control.

Spoiler, Sam took her apology and they actually became.. somewhat closer after reaching an understanding.

I wanna say that giodine took them being okay and sam retiring as good as sam did about purg running hell, but they didn’t. Giodine and purgatory actually barely got along in the first place, and only begun ‘working’ on their bitterness toward each other because they both had sam to encourage it. I can’t say for certain if they’ll get better, as theyre both undying and have time, but I’ll just say for now its uncertain.

Also, Death is Purgatory’s girlfriend after all of that lmao.

And.. yeah, i hope this makes sense and that you like my drawings and ramblings about my lil story in my head, i guess this is my way to develop it without just keeping it to myself cause god forbid i keep things to myself hshsh. If you made it to the end, thank you for taking the time to read and attempting to process everything, and even if you didnt read and just looked to look at my art thank you to!!

I may post some art over on @ghoulishhusbandart cause.. it was my art account before i completely forgot about it but i might reboot it! But if you wan art NEOWWW follow me on insta (ik cringe lmaoo) by the same name as this account @ghoulishhusband or just click that insta link! also ignore the fact that giodine is the only one without a portrait, maybe I’ll replace it the next time i draw but im graduating on monday and my dad’s coming TOMORROW?? so i won’t have too much time to do it... but i hope you like my art anyways :]

ok!! ty!! ily!!

#ghoulishrambles #ghoulishsporkocs #man this is weird lmaoooooo #THE CUT DIDNT CUT IM SORRY #Man I should've edited this before ppl could see it I'm so sorry if it's a mess shshhs #I keep adding tags bc I have more to say but I wanna pin this but I don't wanna remove that Palestine post just for my ramble so #I'll just reblog it every once in a while

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acanvasofabillionsuns · 4 years

Text

got a fascination (with you)

for @heavenly-roman!! happy birthday bennie!!!!

many thanks to @ratherstarryeyed for being a fantastic beta ( ˘ ³˘)♥ (and also to @figurative-siren-song for helping me with a scene!)

you can find a little bit of background here if you want! it’s not necessary to read to understand this fic but it might clear up a couple minor details!

Summary: Roman and Janus have a Tragic Past. (Roman’s words) (Janus would like to know who this guy glaring daggers at him is.) Warnings: accidental misgendering, vandalism? Wordcount: 2509

“Hey, who’s that?” Roman asks, knocking Remus’s shoulder with glows and nodding towards the guy.

“Hm?” Remus turns. “Oh, I don’t know. V brought ‘em, said they wanted to try it out or something.”

“Hey, new guy, what’re your pronouns?” Roman cups glows hands around glows mouth to shout, because Respecting People’s Pronouns.

“He/him,” the guy calls back.

Virgil gives both of them a death glare—probably for shouting when they’re trying to sneak around, but to be fair it would be awkward to walk up to him solely to ask his pronouns and not his name or anything else before walking away, and glo’s not close enough to ask without shouting—so Roman yells back, “Cool!” and then flashes Virgil a wide grin and mimes zipping glows lips. Virgil rolls his eyes and pointedly turns away from glow.

Roman’s smile is even wider as glo turns back to Remus and announces, “Score one for annoyance points!”

“How high are you going for this time?”

“Double however many he gets, at least.”

Remus snorts. “Good luck.”

“Thank you!!” Roman says, ignoring the fact that Remus thinks glo will actually need it. As if.

Glo grabs a few random cans of spray paint out of the bag (which is conveniently by Virgil) and sets two of them upright on the sidewalk and one on its side between them. Glo grins at glows handiwork, then digs through the bag to find the can glo wants.

“Who took the regal red paint?” glo hisses.

“Oh, sorry, did you want it?” Virgil asks, smirking as he turns to glow. He shakes the can victoriously and whispers, “Point.”

Glo squints at him and stands up, letting glows gaze drop down to the aerosol rendition of genitalia and then looking back up at Virgil, watching as his eyes follow Roman’s and then widen and narrow in quick succession.

“Point,” glo echoes triumphantly, snatching the can and definitely not running over to Remus. That would imply that glo’s running away, when Roman is simply evading any potential retaliation.

Someone snickers, and Roman looks around to see New Guy laughing. Glo hopes he can tell by the way glows eyes scrunch up that glo’s smiling at him. Judging by the way his eyes scrunch up too, he does. Glo nods at him, gets a nod back, and then goes to work.

About an hour later, Virgil’s phone beeps, and everyone packs up the supplies and gets ready to make their escape.

“Sonic?” Roman calls to the others as glo and Remus get in their car. No one protests, and so Remus pulls up a route to the nearest one as Roman gets glowself adjusted in the driver’s seat.

Five minutes later and they’ve reassembled at the picnic tables of Sonic. Everyone’s discarded their masks now that they’re unnecessary, and Roman looks around for New Guy, more than a little curious to see what he looks like under the mask and if glo recognizes him.

And once glo spots him, glo definitely recognizes him.

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

“I like your shirt,” someone says quickly. Roman turns around and spots a boy staring at glow. The boy nods as they make eye contact and hurries off to class.

“Thank you!” Roman calls after him.

Glo goes into glows next class with a smile on glows face.

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

“Oh, hey, that’s the guy that complimented me earlier!” Roman tells Remus.

“Where?” Roman points, and Remus scrunches up his nose. “Dude, that’s Janus.”

“So?”

“So, he’s always sarcastic? I don’t know if he even can say something straight,” Remus says. Roman’s about to joke “a fellow gay!” when Remus tells glow, “He was probably being sarcastic and making fun of you or something.”

Oh.

The want to joke drains out of Roman. Glo’s sad for a moment (glo’s not really sure why), but then it flips to indignation, and glo huffs.

“Well, jokes on him, because an insult isn’t really effective if the person you’re insulting didn’t get it,” glo scoffs.

“Yeah, I really don’t know what he was trying to accomplish there,” Remus says, then shrugs and moves on. Roman casts one more frown at Janus before following.

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

“You!” Someone calls. Janus turns to see someone—he recognizes him; he’d made him laugh at the start of the… get-together? He doesn’t know what to call it, and anyway he’s seen him in the halls around school a few times besides that. He thinks he has an R name?—stomping towards him.

“Me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes!”

“What about me?”

“You complimented my shirt one time!” Is that... supposed to be a bad thing? Roger’s (?) frowning at him, so he guesses it is, though why is a mystery.

“I’m sorry?” Janus tries.

“Remus said you were being sarcastic!” Robert (?) complains, throwing a finger at another dude who looks similar to this one and also more familiar. He and Janus share a class, but they’ve never really talked in it, so where he got the idea Janus would snark at someone’s shirt when he doesn’t know them, Janus doesn’t know.

He sighs. “Look, I wouldn’t waste my time insulting someone who I’ve only ever seen in passing. They wouldn’t get it, so there’d be no point.”

“Unless they have a brother who shares a class with you, and therefore can explain that you were being rude!” Ruben (?) exclaims. Janus wonders if he knows how stupid that sounds.

“Dude, I didn’t even know Remus had a brother!” Janus tells him. “And that would be a lot of effort to put into a comment that I just said in passing.”

Roy (?) downright scowls at him, crossing his arms with a huff. “Remus doesn’t have a brother.”

“Oh,” Janus says, immediately backpedaling. “Sorry.” They sniff, but their shoulders relax a little so Janus counts it as not a total mess. “Can I ask what your pronouns are?”

“Glo/glow,” glo says, and glo looks a little sheepish now. “Sorry for accusing you; I shouldn’t have judged you so harshly when I don’t even know you.”

“You shouldn’t’ve,” Janus agrees, “but I accept your apology.”

Glo smiles, uncrossing glows arms. “Do you think we could maybe start over?”

“Sure?”

Janus isn’t really sure what glo means by that, until glo sticks glows hand in his face and chirps, “I’m Roman! I use glo/glow/glows/glowself. It’s nice to meet you, Janus!”

“Nice to meet you too? Janus, he/him.”

Roman’s smile has progressed to a beam, and Janus thinks maybe he’d made a mistake somewhere along the line.

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

Roman weaves glows way through the crowd, looking around for Janus. Glo thinks about the situations leading up until now and winces. Glo should’ve known better than to think badly of someone glo didn’t even know! Glo’s fixing that now, though.

Glo spots Janus and makes glows way over to pop up next to him.

“Hi, Janus!”

“Hi, Roman,” Janus says, sounding slightly exasperated. And Roman knows that that’s probably because glo has insisted on befriending him and that maybe it would be better if glo just left him alone since it doesn’t really seem like Janus wants to be befriended, but Roman is Determined to make it up to him, okay, so Janus doesn’t really get a choice in whether he’s Roman’s friend or not.

“I was wondering if you wanted to come to the next Sonic excursion with us?” Roman leans in and winks a few times to make sure glows meaning gets across. “The plan’s looking like we’re gonna go on Friday right after school, but if you wanna come and can’t make it, I’m sure we can reschedule!”

Janus raises his eyebrows. “What, you’ll change the entire plan if one person, who isn’t even really part of the group yet, wants to come but can’t?”

“I mean… yeah?” Roman says. “It wouldn’t be as much fun if we knew we were excluding you when you wanted to join.”

“Huh.”

Roman waits a moment to see if he’ll say more, then prompts, “So?”

“I’ll join,” Janus says, and glo fistpumps before realizing that maybe glo’s coming off as too enthusiastic.

“Sorry,” glo tells him, rubbing the back of glows neck sheepishly.

“No need to apologize,” Janus waves glow off, squashing a smile. “Don’t you have class?”

“Oh, hey, I do!” Roman realizes, pulling out glows phone and wincing at the time. “I gotta go, bye Janus!”

“Bye!” Janus calls after glow, and Roman smiles to glowself as glo races through the halls. Glo thinks glo’s got a pretty good shot at befriending Janus.

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

This is a disaster. Janus thinks he might actually be friends with Roman. He doesn’t know how. Last he checked, Roman was still vaguely annoying, like a puppy who kept yapping at you to play when you were trying to concentrate on something else. But they didn’t have any classes together, and they didn’t often have time to talk in between periods, so Roman hadn’t been able to bother him for very long unless they hung out outside of school, which also didn’t happen often.

But then Janus had been added to the vandalism group chat, and Virgil had started pulling him into his hangouts with Roman and Remus, and now Janus has to deal with the fact that he actually likes hanging out with Roman. Disgusting.

The best way to immediately deal with it is, of course, to drop his head onto his desk with the most dramatic groan he can make, so that’s what he does.

“What’s wrong?” Virgil asks, poking him.

“Help me,” Janus says, swatting at Virgil’s arm when he tries to poke him again. “I think I actually like Roman—”

“Duh,” Virgil tells him, like the horrible, horrible friend Janus just realized he is.

“—‘s company,” he finishes, sitting up so he can swat at Virgil from a better angle. “What do you mean, ‘duh?’”

“I mean, it’s really obvious that you’ve got a crush on Roman and you need to actually do something about it.”

“I don’t have a crush on Roman!” Janus protests. He tries to think about how that would even work. He likes spending time with Roman, sure, and yeah, Roman’s got an objectively nice face, and it is really cute to see glow light up when one of glows favorite songs come on, and— “Oh my goodness, I’ve got a crush on Roman.”

Virgil bursts into laughter. Janus is going to disown him as a friend.

“You knew? You knew and you didn’t tell me and you just let me make a fool of myself, probably, oh my god, how big of an embarrassment have I made of myself without realizing it, Virgil, stop laughing and help me, you’re the worst—why do I have a crush on Roman of all people, oh my god—”

“Janus, calm down,” Virgil tells him, while still laughing, which fails to help Janus calm down in the slightest. “It’s okay, Roman’s as oblivious as you, somehow, and you haven’t embarrassed yourself at all except just now. I hope you know I’m never letting you live this down.”

Janus hisses at him. Virgil bursts into laughter again, and Janus lets his head thunk back against his desk.

This is a disaster.

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

Roman is Very Excited. Janus agreed to come over and watch Monsters Inc. with glow! Well, glow and Remus and Virgil, but still!

“Dude,” Remus says, throwing something against Roman’s head that glo decidedly doesn’t look at, not wanting to know what it is. “What’s got you so excited?”

“The movie!”

Remus snickers. “You really want to be Janus’s friend, huh?”

“Yeah!” At first glo’d just wanted to be his friend to make up for misjudging him, but now that Roman’s gotten to know him, glo has even more reasons to want to be his friend. Janus is clever, sharp-tongued, talented, and even though Roman now knows he’s a dork who makes atrocious puns when he sees the opportunity, Janus still emanates Cool vibes. Not to mention how pretty he is, or how cute he looks when he’s snickering to himself over the terrible pun he’d just made, or— “...Wait.”

“What?”

“I don’t think I just want to be his friend,” Roman says slowly, feeling for the truth of it on glows tongue. Glo thinks about kissing Janus and, no, yeah, Roman has definitely gotten off the platonic feelings train. “Yeah, no. Dammit.”

Remus bursts into laughter.

“Remus! This isn’t funny!” Roman grabs the nearest wouldn’t-do-serious-damage object—an empty Coke can—and hurls it at him. “Stop laughing and help me!”

“Don’t know what you want help with, Roenby!” Remus practically sings. “I’m not the one who caught feelings!”

“I didn’t catch feelings! They hit me in the face! Just now! Stop laughing at me!”

Remus is a terrible brother and very lucky Roman is too busy trying to figure out how glo wants Remus to help to smack him in the face with a pillow. Roman lands on “Plan. Help me think—wait, no, you’d be terrible at wooing. Nevermind!”

“Hey!”

Roman sticks out glows tongue and zooms to glows room.

“I could woo if I very well pleased!” Remus calls after glow.

“No you couldn’t!” Roman calls back, slamming glows door to ensure that glo got the last word. Ha.

Brother sufficiently bothered, Roman turns glows attention back to Janus, scrambling around for something to use to write. Glo finds a marker—not ideal, but there’s no time to worry about things like whether glo has the perfect writing utensil— and then digs around for something to write on. It’s only when glo’s about to scribble down ideas on an already-full page of school notes that Roman forces glowself to slow down and think. Realizing glo has a crush doesn’t suddenly put glow on a time limit, and speeding around to make a plan and start wooing Janus will likely have less-than-optimal results, as evidenced by the nearly-just-destroyed-glows-notes thing.

So, although part of glo wants to run to Janus’s house (which… glo doesn’t even know where that is) and serenade him until he either agrees to be glows boyfriend or rejects glow, Roman turns on some music, pulls out glows colored pencils and Enchanted Forest coloring book, and spends the next ten minutes tuning out everything else with the sweet tunes of Beyonce and colored pencils swishing against paper. By the time glo’s done, glo’s calmer, ready to think through making a plan to woo Janus, and has a bomb-looking new page done.

As it turns out, though, making plans to woo someone is difficult. Glo comes up with ‘subtly gauge his interest’ easily enough, but then what? Confessing? Straight Gay up telling Janus glo likes him? No thank you.

Instead, glo expands upon the first part, until glo has:

Step 1 - call him pet names

Step 2 - see how he reacts to the idea of them dating

Step 3 - ???

Step 4 - profit

This is definitely a foolproof plan, glo decides. After all, by the time glo’s done the first two steps, surely glo’ll have come up with what to do next!

chapter 2

#happy birthday bennie ily!!#next chapter should be posted soon #my fics #my writing #ts roman #ts remus #ts janus #ts virgil #roceit #creativitwins #platonic prinxiety #platonic anxceit #sanders sides

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prairiesongserial · 4 years

Text

Windfield Pass 9

TW: Amputation

Anna and Marge both looked like they might faint.

“You might have guessed by...our impolite appearances, that Owl and I have had a hard journey,” Agnes began, slowly. “We ran into some trouble in the waste, on the way from Pickton. Owl was badly scared by a mutie. A Weeper.”

Agnes felt ill, besmirching Selkie’s name after she had saved their lives. But it would all have been for nothing if Owl lost her placement in Windfield.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Anna said, taking one of Owl’s hands. “You must have been terrified.”

Owl frowned. “Agnes was more scared than me. I’m not afraid of anything. Selkie is nice, and I rode on her back.”

“Selkie?”

“The motorist,” Agnes managed. There was no opportunity to tell Owl to shut her mouth, not without seeming extremely suspicious.

“Strange names down in Pickton,” Marge muttered.

“That’s not true,” Meredith said, getting upset. “Owl told me she was friends with the muties in the waste, and she’s probably a mutie herself.”

“Now, Meredith, that’s a terrible thing to say...” Marge said. But she was looking more and more uncomfortable. “Let’s sort everything out with Mayor Willin, yes, he’ll get everything straightened out…”

Marge urged them toward the door, apologizing to the still stunned Anna. Owl sulked as she was called away from the barrel, and Agnes was beginning to promise that they would go back for the kidney beans later, when she stopped short. As the bell on the doorframe tinkled behind her, Agnes realized that the streets had changed in the small group’s short absence. A party of hunters was stumbling down the main road, travel worn and miserable. They bore one of their own on a stretcher fashioned from rough hewn branches and prairie grass, dogs yapping at their heels. People spilled out of their homes and businesses to watch the procession.

The dogs scared a scream out of Owl, and she hid behind Agnes.

“Nothing to fear,” Agnes told her, in barely a murmur. “Don’t say anything else about Selkie, hear?”

“Why?” Owl said quietly. “I like Selkie. Is Selkie bad?”

Agnes squeezed Owl’s shoulder, then approached the hunters.

“Dr. Hopper,” one of them said in amazement. “You were supposed to have left. Hey, it’s Dr. Hopper!”

The rest of the hunters - few in number, only three - stopped and crowded her.

“Can you save him?” the man asked. “Damn Llorona got him.”

Agnes inspected the man on the stretcher. Selkie had ripped one of his arms to ribbons. It seemed so unnecessary, until Agnes realized it was his right arm - it would likely be his shooting arm.

“If he loses the arm, maybe,” Agnes said. “Get him inside, anywhere, and bring me a belt, and the town mason. And something that can cut stone.”

Agnes had done field amputations twice before, and only one of those patients had lived. It was an exhausting operation, and it had been so many years, she wasn’t sure she could do it anymore. She would have to take an unorthodox tack.

The hunters scattered. Agnes heard her name, heard whoops and hollers of an almost religious bent, one of the hunters calling back, “We’ll make today Hopper Day if you save ‘im, Doc!” The hunter’s friend hit him in a friendly, though chiding way and said, “Don’t say that, idiot, you aren’t the mayor.”

The hunter who had asked if Agnes could save the man on the stretcher stayed behind. He donated his own belt, and helped her drag the wounded man into Anna’s general store. Owl watched in awe, along with Meredith. There was no time to worry over them, though Agnes did wonder how Owl would feel if she found out her beloved Selkie had done this.

“Why is he like that?” Owl asked, creeping closer.

Agnes cinched the belt tight below the wounded man’s shoulder. He looked bad - his fellows had been dragging him for days. There was no way they could have gone through the Windfield pass with a stretcher in tow, which meant they had braved the mountains too, or perhaps cut north through mutie territory. It had been as hard a journey for them as it had been for Agnes and Owl.

Owl reached out and touched the man’s shoulder, as if she couldn’t believe he was real. The man’s eyes rolled to look at her, and he smiled - or maybe he was baring his teeth.

Agnes gave Owl a sharp look, and she drew her hand away.

“Save the arm, Dr. Hopper?” the wounded man said, breathing shallowly.

“Certainly not,” Agnes said. “If you live you’ll be lucky.”

The man squeezed his eyes closed. Shortly the other hunters returned, the town mason in tow. She was a young woman with deep-set eyes and brown curls twisted back into a sensible bun. She was still tying her stone-working apron on as she passed through the door.

“My God,” the mason said, fumbling with the knot. “Dr. Hopper, I - ”

Agnes searched the woman for her tools. She had brought a masonry chisel, perhaps misunderstanding her task. Behind her, two hunters staggered under the weight of a strange contraption which must have been a wet saw. It was operated by pedals and gasoline, and barely fit through the door of the general store. Agnes might have been better off calling the butcher for a cleaver. But no, she couldn’t trust the strength of her arm, nor could she trust the resolve of the butcher - or anyone else - to make a clean chop. The saw, on the other hand, cut clean, regardless of the resolve of its user.

“Alright,” Agnes said, and gestured to the mason. “You there, you can use that thing, so that’s what you’ll do. You all in the back, hold him still, at a right angle for her, and listen to everything she says.”

“You aren’t going to do it yourself?” the wounded man asked nervously. “But you’re the doctor.”

“I’m also an old woman,” Agnes snapped. “Get started.”

The mason’s hands trembled as she got her contraption ready. The hunters scrambled to move their compatriot into position. And Agnes herself chose the line onto which the mason would lower the saw. She checked the tightness of the belt.

“Someone run to the nearest house and bring me a shovelful of hot coals,” she said. “Anna, get a basin ready with strong spirits, set it nearby with a rag - a clean one. Owl, get my pack. There’s a little vial with a red syrup…”

She trailed off, thinking of the symbol Selkie had drawn for her. She had never identified herself with any of her tools. The symbol for doctor or medicine in the northwest was an intersection of green lines at a right angle. But to Selkie, it was this, this little tincture that took away pain. The most superficial of her tools - but the most empathetic. It was funny that Selkie had chosen painkiller to represent Agnes, when Selkie had been the one to necessitate its use today.

The general store buzzed with movement, the wounded man breathing shallow, anxious breaths with his arm posed just so under the saw blade. In seconds, Agnes had all she needed before her. Coals, alcohol, bandages.

“What is that? Why are you doing that?” Owl asked from underfoot. “Agnes, why is he like that. Agnes, what is that thing?”

“Give him a healthy swig of the syrup, Anna,” Agnes said, ignoring Owl. The wounded man was distracted by the vial, and at that moment Agnes silently signalled the mason, who fired up the saw. In less than a second, it was done, the wounded man too surprised to scream. At least for a moment.

“Hold him still,” snapped Agnes. She moved quickly. With heat from the coals, alcohol, and many layers of bandage from her pack, the wound was soon sufficiently clean and cauterized.

“Mason, thank you,” Agnes said. “Go home and have a drink.”

“Thank you, I will,” she muttered, stunned. And she left, staggering onto the porch.

Mechanically, Anna retrieved a mop and attended to the blood on the floor. Bodies moved this way and that in the store, mostly silent, cleaning up or caring for the wounded man, muttering in low voices about where to take him, and who would care for him. Agnes thought she caught a strange, mistrustful look in one of the hunter’s eyes. But he soon left, and Agnes put the thought out of her mind.

The general store began to clear out, leaving only Agnes, Owl, and Anna behind. Meredith had gone home as soon as the excitement was over, and Marge, likely overcome with the need to tell someone about the goings on in Anna’s store today, had left long before.

Anna dragged her mop bucket outside to dump the bloody water in the grass. Agnes watched her carefully. She was a narrow, strong woman, who set to a task, no matter how gruesome, with grace and hard work. And apparently she wanted a child. Most in Windfield had had parenthood thrust upon them, and made do. And their children made do, too.

Agnes cleaned the blood from her hands and clothes with a damp rag. Owl had appeared at her side at some point, watching Anna clean blood from the floor with more rapture even than Agnes, lost in her reverie.

“Why did you do that to him?” Owl said solemnly. “Why did they cut off his arm?”

Agnes reached down and squeezed Owl’s hand.

“Sometimes you need to be hurt more in order to get better,” she said.

“Oh,” said Owl. “I don’t get it.”

Anna returned with a fresh bucket of water. Agnes let go of Owl’s hand and stepped forward to meet Anna at the door, where they wouldn’t be overheard.

“In the last hour you’ve had enough excitement in your shop for several weeks,” Agnes said.

Anna leaned back against the doorpost, letting the mop lean next to her.

“No thanks to you,” she said. She wasn’t hostile, just honest. Agnes liked her.

“It would be silly to ask you to commit to Owl today - I’m sure the mayor can place her temporarily somewhere until someone in town adopts her. Or until someone sends word to me to find placement for her somewhere else.” Agnes smiled grimly. “Allowing Marge to handle a delicate affair was my mistake.”

Anna offered her half a smile in return. She slapped the mop back against the floor and resumed cleaning. The woman was exhausted. Agnes supposed she had better go.

“Come along, Owl,” Agnes called, re-shouldering her pack. “We have another errand or two before the day is done.”

Reluctantly, Owl pulled herself away from the rhythmic motion of Anna’s mop and followed Agnes out the door.

Windfield Pass 8 || Windfield Pass 10

#story

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isthisimportant · 5 years

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Hi! SPN ship please? Straight female. INFP Taurus. Dramatic. Lazy. Random. Sarcastic. Hard-headed. Stubborn. Dorky. Nerdy. Clingy. Moody. Temperamental. Guarded. Needy. Witty. Genuine. Dancer. Bookworm. Otaku. Movie lover (action, crime, thriller, fantasy, rom-com). Music lover (alternative rock, pop, country, and Broadway show tunes). Coffee fiend. Has a huge sweet tooth. Easy to annoy but hard to truly anger. Dog person. I also tend to get nervous and stressed easily. Thanks!

Hey anon! Thank you so much for my first ship request. So without further ado, here you go.

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Character I ship you with:

Dean Winchester

Word count: 824

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Dean Winchester was a sophisticated man, contrary to popular belief. He was very different from what one would perceive him to be upon meeting him. He had a lot of layers to his personality. And underneath the layer that suggested he was a plain womanizer, was a man who just wanted to be loved. True, he did pleasure the frequent one night stands and the shameless flirting but what he really wanted was that solid relationship with someone who connect to him emotionally. And he did find it. He found it with you.

At first, Dean thought you were just like any other hunter he'd met: badass with a hell of a lot of attitude. But as he got to know you, he began to discover so much about you that made him fall for you. He loved how you stuck to your ideals: ideals you'd taken up from all the characters in the books you read. He loved how you stood up for the people who mattered to you and worked to make things right, whatever the odds may be. He also enjoyed the little things about you: like your taste in music and movies. There was always minimal conflict whenever you two hit the road together. Eventually, he got the courage to ask you out. Which brings you to where you are today. Two people in an established relationship who'd literally, kill for each other.

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

There you were, lying on your bed, absorbed in the book you were currently reading. You and Dean had just argued over something he considered to be “stupid and unnecessary”. You didn't think it so. You see, there was one tiny thing Dean didn't particularly love about you: your undying love for dogs. He was himself indifferent to them and never really saw anything appeasing about them. He despised them and never really wanted anything to do with dogs, especially if it involved living with them.

You, on the other hand, loved them to death. You were always one to stop and pet strange dogs on the street while Dean rolled his eyes and patiently waited for you. He was tolerant, if not anything else. And you badly wanted one of your own. You had tried your best to sell the idea to him, with zero success every time. You had even taken him, without his knowledge, to an adoption centre to try and evoke some kind of empathy out of him given the sad state of the dogs there. However, he hadn't shifted from his stance.

But, you being the determined and strong-minded individual you are, went and got a dog for his birthday. You had hoped that he wouldn't be able to resist or say no if he could just see the other side of things. But Dean still refused and didn't budge even when you copied the puppy’s expression and doubled the cuteness displayed.

This was what made you two fight and call each other things like ‘stubborn' ‘fussy' and ‘selfish’. You knew it was his birthday but what could you do if the man was too damn self-willed. You flipped the page, sulking in boredom and frustration when you heard a knock on your door.

“Y/N", his voice came from the doorway.

You didn't say anything in reply, not wanting a recap of what happened earlier.

“Y/N, I'm sorry.” Still nothing. Dean sighed and you could hear him shifting awkwardly.

“Look, I know I was... selfish", you could hear how it pained him to accept that, “and... insensitive”, he used your words, “and I am sorry. And-" Dean couldn't finish because he was interrupted by sudden yapping coming from somewhere near him. You put down your book, in an instant and looked at Dean and the basket in his hand.“Well, I guess he's gonna finish my apology for me, then.” He said, placing the basket down and lifting a sheet covering the source of the sound. You slowly edged nearer to the basket and kneeled down, peering at it with uncertainty and anticipation. Your eyes lit up when you saw an adorable ‘(favourite-dog-breed)' playfully barking away at almost everything. You laughed and scratched its ears as it gently nuzzled into your hand.

You realised you had completely ignored Dean and stood up to meet his gaze. You smiled softly and tip-toed to place a soft kiss on his lips. He sighed into the kiss, glad his plan had gone smoothly. You pulled away and asked him, “You'd do this for me, Dean?”

He shrugged. “It can't be that bad.” You frowned. “What about the ‘smell' and the ‘mess' and the ‘constant need for attention'?” He chuckled and looked at the puppy. “Nah. Little guy's worth all that.” You grinned and hugged him. “Besides, after living with Sam all my life, I figured this can't be any worse.” He joked and rested his head on your shoulder. He'd do anything to keep you happy and that was obvious.

**************

A/N: Ah! Sorry for the cheese! I really hope you like it. Thank you so much for requesting.❤ Requests are OPEN, guys.

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miraculouskpop · 5 years

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MKP Series | Ladybug and Wolf

Chapter IIII: Wolf Boy Yapping

Sehun stumbled across the room with his hands buried into his face. Or what felt like his face. Either way, he couldn't feel anything with his senses going into overdrive. A huge migraine invaded his space and amplifying every single cell inside his brain.

His senses are going insane.

Too many scents are invading his nose. Coming from different directions, different smells and it’s overwhelming him. Sehun blinked, but everywhere appeared fuzzy. It happened so suddenly- he, he's not even sure if he…- wait, did he? Sehun tripped over his own two feet and fell to the cold floor. His eardrums rattled when the dishes clanked and trinkets shuffled, and pressed a hand against his ear…- wait a second.

… W-where are his ears?!

Tufts of thick hair covered the sides of his ears, and as his fingers combed further, Sehun panicked. He couldn't feel his ears, just more hair. He’s not going crazy, is he? Oh damn, this is bad. And then, he remembered. “...A-Apollo?” He whimpered. And yet, all he can hear is the students outside the dormitory, and it sounded incredibly loud as hell. Footsteps, doors slamming, shouting, laughter, music and television playing throughout the rooms. He can hear it all. Sehun tried to stand, but the headache clamped down on his mind. Dang it! Ugh, who knew being a hero meant suffering in pain? Within that moment, Sehun regretted even acknowledging the old man. He must've been a creeper looking for young victims to seduce...

That old man had something to do with this.

"Apollo..." Sehun could hear his heart rattling against his chest, and suddenly, he blinked. Something's different. By something, Sehun meant that he's different. His midnight pajamas completely gone, replaced by what seemed like a costume. Sehun slowly, but surely stood, carefully trying to process everything. He looked down at his newly adorned grey gloves, metallic watch bound by his left wrist, white paw prints trickling from his hands to forearms. The gloves were connected to his entire suit made out of spandex, and Sehun quickly walked to the bathroom. Ignoring the headaches, Sehun desperately needed to see the truth. Or rather, the result. And honestly, Sehun didn't even need a light to witness himself in this entire getup. In the darkness, Sehun saw himself with clarity. Eyes blazing with a passionate topaz hue, and his average black hair transformed into platinum blonde. Woah. He stood in shock, wondering if the young man in the dark gray mask was actually himself. He touched the harden mask protected around the edge of his face, observing the intricate designs of the curved mask. And then, the moment Sehun flicked on the lights-

“Holy crap!”

Ears. By ears, he meant seeing two animalistic, furry-ass ears perched on the top of his head. What the heck is this? Is this what Apollo meant by releasing his inner wolf? His ears twitched, and then twitched again. Dang it, why are his ears constantly twitching?! Ugh, stop it! Sehun pressed against his newly found animal ears, and felt incredibly weird feeling his hands above his head. A silver hoodie hung above him with a flowing cape flowing from behind, all attached by what seems to be a simple dog collar. Black streaks marked the sides of his waistline to his thighs, and Sehun couldn't help but to brush against the black utility belk. Entwined with the belt was a gray shawl, wrapped around his midsection and, well, supposedly the tail dangling between his legs.

"Oh my god." He whispered.

He's officially a superhero. Well, maybe not superhero, but he looks freaking awesome. "Apollo?" He called again, yet heard the tangled noises strangling his ears.

My apologies.

A voice deep and brusque infiltrated his mind, nearly scaring the living daylights out Sehun. "Where the heck are you?" Sehun had no clue where the little furball went, and hearing voices inside his head creeped him out.

As of current, I am apart of your conscious.

Wait, what?!

"Why are you inside my head?" Sehun hissed. He felt incredibly embarrassed talking to himself, but he had no other choice.

Actually, you do have choices. And I can hear majority of your thoughts, I just choose not to respond. Regardless, I am here to guide you to proper heroism and how to conduct yourself as a miraculous holder.

Wait, so he can think to himself?

Precisely.

Okay, this is weird. Well, whatever. So what now? I guessed I transformed into... This. Sehun still felt the headache throbbing from the back of his head as he returned to the kitchen. Everything still felt so surreal to him, turning into some wolf boy smelling different scents, mostly garbage and sweaty bodies.

You leave the facility to experiment with your abilities. However, refrain from any unnecessary fighting. Then again, I honestly doubt you would be fighting anyone right now.

Okay, but first he needs some medication...

Sehun walked towards the kitchen cabinet and whipped open the door. Only to find it completely empty.

Damn.

I heard that. A hero must see the logic of the situation at all times for better improvement. Also, your headache will eventually fade as your body adjust to its amplified abilities.

Okay, fine, whatever. Sehun snorted, walking towards the door to leave-

I wouldn't recommend that route. It's too public, and many will see you. The window will be the best exit.

... Wait.

You want him to jump out of the window?! "Are you freaking serious right now?" The least thing Sehun needs is broken bones, a ruined face, and death looming over him.

Of course! Did you honestly think I will allow yourself to be exposed? You must be stupid.

"No way in hell I'm doing that! Apollo, you must be joking. I can't even walk two feet without a headache, and you're asking me to jump out of a window?" Don't the furball know how deep that fall is? Having the audacity to call him, Oh Sehun, a natural genius, stupid? The teenage tsked, feeling less interested in this entire idea. He might as well ditch this whole ordeal and call it quits.

Sehun, that is the first step in testing your new abilities. Risk is absolutely necessary! How can humanity prosper without curiosity and experimenting new ideas? We would still be in ancient times had it not been for risk! Well, and wars, death, devestation and other forced situations. You must place yourself in uncomfortable situations to truly understand-

Okay, he gets it. Geeze, no need for an hour long lecture. Sehun grumbled to himself, treading towards the tiny window and peered from it. Down below looked really low, and maybe a good twelve foot drop. His stomach lurched, and Sehun didn't deny the fear crawling through his skin. Should he really be doing this? After all, he might be hallucinating from diet restrictions and excessive vitamin consumption. Damn, he can feel his heart getting jittery again. Too far, too deep, and not enough reassurance. The newly transformed hero felt uncertain, eyes gazing down the possible death of the ground. "I-..." He stopped himself, afraid of speaking what he genuinely felt. Fear.

It is alright Sehun. I am here with you, and I will protect you.

Although it was a sappy statement, it was enough to push Sehun. He released a sigh, and without further notice opened the window. His heart leaped inside his chest when the fresh wind smacked his face, the midnight moon shining its light upon him. Oddly, his headache went away along with the brewing fear, and the teenager climbed over the window. His combat boots dangling from below, Sehun threatened Apollo with death if the little furry didn't rescue him.

And then, Sehun jumped.

He fell so quickly, Sehun was certain he'd die right then. The drop did horrors to the young boy, and Sehun nearly screamed. His stomach churned and twisted, did a barrel roll and became a meme. He's going to die! But before Sehun landed to his death, something unexpected happened. Gravity shifted, the harsh wind becoming lighter and stomach softening from its cries. It felt like soft pads beneath his feet, and without realizing it, Sehun landed carefully onto the ground with a gentle thud.

. . .

Still resting on his knees, Sehun stared at the ground in shock. "W-wha... What just...?" He couldn't bring himself to believe it, and everything happened so suddenly-

He fell from a window, and had survived! "Oh my god!" He's alive! And not smothered into the dirt! This... This is amazing! Apollo then told him how he needed better faith. Sehun stood tall and proud of his accomplishment, eager to explore the midnight town with his abilities. But before Sehun could dwell further on his excitement, a unique scent captured his nose by attention. No, it wasn't the intensity of the mowed grass and crisp emission of smog. The spoiling dumpster ten feet behind him and different smells of the human body all intermingled with musk, salt and grossness. At least, on this property it is...

No, it smelled incredibly... What's the word for it? Sweet. It smelled sweeter than lavender. A flowery touch to vanilla, maybe? Regardless, it really freaked Sehun out. Nowhere on this masculine, male-ridden property had feminine qualities whatsoever: no flowerbeds, no perfume, no trees, no girls, so where could this smell be coming from? Apollo inquired to follow the smell, and Sehun couldn't help but to agree.

Run. Follow it.

Sehun's instincts yapped at him to follow the scent. Don't allow it to fade away. He can't allow it to fade away- he must follow it! The teenager tried to control himself, but it felt incredibly difficult withholding his growing urgencies. It grew inside his gut, expanding further as Sehun stood his ground. But eventually, Sehun crumbled to his instincts and ran.

Running. Faster than Oh Sehun could ever imagine. Faster than a human being, wind fighting against his entire body as he sped through the fields into the neighborhoods. His abdomen clenching and body unaccustomed to this unusual experience. An adrenaline rush coursing through his veins as his feet pushed past normal speeds. No human being can run twenty five miles per minute, and when Sehun jumped he found himself soaring high above the post lamps.

This feels amazing.

The inner child locked away was freed. Freedom! The chains completely broken, and for the first time in Oh Sehun's boring life, he laughed.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #miraculous kpop #miraculous ladybug tales of ladybug and chat nior #au #kpop #exo #f(x)#fanfiction #fiction #fanart #bts #blackpink #twice #chapter four

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fandom-monium · 6 years

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In Your Eyes - Episode 2

Soulmates - Heterochromatic Eyes AU: In which the soulmate system isn’t everything it seems and Shouto could be the only one who sees it.

Previously in Episode 1

Something about you pulls at Shouto’s heartstrings almost painfully and his eyes widen, pupils dilating.

Walking up to Inasa, your voice is calm as you begin to scold him. “Inasa, you should be more careful. I get you’re hot-blooded and all, but you need to chill. You get hurt over the littlest things.” You sigh, pulling out bandages and antiseptic from your bag. You begin to tend to his wounds before reaching the stadium.

“Sorry, (Last Name)-chan. I’ll try to be more careful,” Inasa promises. He pats your head, grinning wider.

You swat his hand away and frown. “Don’t try. You will be more careful and stop being so extra all the time. Seriously, I can’t keep patching you up for dumb things like bowing.”

Your eyes don’t meet. Hell, you didn’t even look at him, but the way his heart pounds like a drum says it all. Heat creeps up his neck slowly. His heartstrings feel like they’re being pulled and he almost groans as his chest aches, but it’s unlike any time he’s been injured. It’s more urgent.

Shouto decides he doesn’t like you.

During the exam introduction, Shouto keeps an eye out for a familiar head of (hair color) hair but finds nothing. He's not interested in you or anything. More like curious about your quirk is all. How can it effect him at long range? Is it some type of heartbeat amplifier like Jirou's? That would explain why he heard his heart pound in his ears at your presence. It must be powerful if it can affect him with such distance. At that, Shouto deems you a dangerous opponent, prompting him to avoid any Shiketsu students.

He dismisses the disappointment when he doesn't see you during the first trial.

But it isn't till over half way through the second trial he sees you again.

Shouto grimaces. Gang Orca is right in front of him. Yet he can't land a decent attack because Inasa keeps distracting him with words. Stupid, unnecessary words. Every time he attacks, Inasa does too and they cancel each other out, missing their targets. It only fuels his irritation and serves to further distract him. Shouto grits his teeth, trying to concentrate on Gang Orca.

Inasa spouts some bullshit about his relations with Endeavor or something. Shouto doesn't care. All he wants right now is to pass this trial, but he can't with Inasa yapping in his ear. Shouto and Inasa exchange a few unkind words before they attack at the same time again.

As expected, the heat makes the wind rise, but this time the wind carries the fire towards Shindou. Still paralyzed, he struggles to avoid from the nearing flames.

Midoriya and you choose to jump in at that moment.

Midoriya grabs Shindou by his vest and vaults away from the flames ."What the hell-"

"-are you doing!?" You finish for him, landing in front of Shouto and Inasa. In a single motion, you raise your arms in a defensive block. Walls instantly rise from the earth. One by one, thick slabs of rock surround Gang Orca in towers. You've caged them in a stone enclosure, preventing Gang Orca and his henchmen from nearing the casualties for now.

"(Last Name)-chan, you're here!" Inasa notes.

(Last Name). Shouto stares at you in shock, his gaze switching between Midoriya and you. Your tense back faces him as you scan the walls you've built. There's a loud banging coming from the other side, and the walls rumble. They're trying to break through.

Shouto openly gawks, his heart jump starting again. God, there’s your damn quirk again. He shakes his himself out of his stupor, not wanting to show your effect on him. What the hell is this?

He glances at Midoriya, who is dragging Shindou away. His self-destructive friend seemed unaffected by your quirk, despite being in close proximity with you. Maybe you were purposely targeting him?

But you pay no attention to Shouto, turning to glare at Inasa. "I just told you to stop being extra, and what do you do? You get extra, you idiot. You have a bone to pick with someone, do it after the exam. This isn't the time for dramatic dialogue. What's more important here, saving lives or fighting with fellow heroes?"

You're right, Shouto thinks, ignoring the pain in his chest. As his heartstrings pull towards you, he looks at the battlefield. Debris and broken earth lay at his feet, and the sounds of screams and battle cries echo through the stadium. Other examinees carry casualties out of broken buildings and piles of rubble.

Shouto's here with one purpose. To pass the Hero License Exam. He has to set aside his differences with Inasa for now, so he can do his part. Protect the citizens and divert the villains away from them. He accepts that he can't simply get passed his issues with his father. He can't forget about them just like that. Inasa is right. He became what he hated. It's his fault that this happened, and he wants to make things right.

Then Inasa and him are paralyzed by Gang Orca's Sonic Wave attack, his body limp in his large hand.

A distance away from you, part of the wall crumbles into a doorway and like a broken dam it floods with Gang Orca's henchmen. You yell back to Midoriya while he drags Shindou closer to the casualty site. "They're coming!"

Have to think fast. You turn back, slamming your palms into the ground at the same moment Shindou does. The ground under Gang Orca's henchmen breaks, catching them in the violent torrent of rock as Shindou sends a shock wave into the floor. Then the earth quakes and rumbles at your command. It splits apart into a dark chasm. Gang Orca's henchmen fall in.

"Now then," Gang Orca drops Shouto's body. He begins walking away. "Guess I'll finish the wind-user off and give my boys a hand over there."

Hitting the ground, Shouto knows he's competed with Inasa with no purpose. He's shown no cooperation. He can't become a hero like this. He hopes Inasa's thinking the same thing. Their eyes meet. No words spoken.

Shouto's fire and Inasa's wind roar to life.

The wind lifts the flames as they planned. It swirls and traps Gang Orca in a raging inferno.

"A prison made of fire and wind, a nice idea. If I was the average villain, I might give up, or cry. Or maybe beg for forgiveness," Gang Orca comments, pouring a large water bottle over his head. "However, the moment you attacked me, I had already worked out my next move. What if that wasn't the case?" A shock wave disperses the wind and fire. He bellows, "Well? What do you have planned next?"

Nothing, damn it. Shouto grits his teeth, his face pressing into the hard earth. The jagged stones dig into his cheek. He tries to regain control of his paralyzed body.

Using the smoke screen above to hide, Midoriya comes to the rescue and drops an axe kick on Gang Orca. Gang Orca blocks with his arm as you follow up. You step in front of Shouto in a defensive stance before you stomp your front foot. A chunk of rock 20 times bigger than you shoots up from the earth and floats in front of you at the ready. In a swift motion, you hurdle it at Gang Orca, forcing him to push Midoriya off and dive away. You don't stop there. You outstretch your arms, palms facing the ground. The earth quakes and like the waves of the ocean, the ground begins to move. You hands tremble before clenching into fists.

Like the Red Sea, the ground under Gang Orca's feet part, and he's swallowed into the earth.

.......

The Hero License exam is over, and changed in their school uniforms, Class 1-A returns to the center of the stadium for their scores.

Everyone passes except Bakugou and Todoroki.

"Hurry up, dumbass." Shouto hears a familiar voice command. Then a deep, exasperated groan.

"Todoroki!"

Shouto turns to see Inasa and you walking over him. His heart jumps to his throat and suddenly, he can’t breath. He hopes it’s not because of Inasa because he’s had enough of his shit.

Inasa pauses a couple feet in front of him, but you shoot Inasa a glare. You shove him closer towards Shouto.

"I'll wait for you," you tell Inasa walking off to join the rest of Shiketsu Academy. With your fading presence, his heart calms and Shouto breaths a sigh of relief.

Inasa towers over him and stares for a moment, face showing no hostility. Then he slams his head into the ground in the lowest, most odd bow Shouto's ever seen. Inasa apologizes for making him fail the exam.

Shouto's taken aback by his change in demeanor towards him, but he doesn't accept it. He reasons with Inasa that it was him who basically made them fail without even realizing it and thanks him for helping him. He’s realized some important things about himself.

When his friends find out he didn't pass and comfort him (except Mineta, that bastard), Shouto and Inasa share a brief silence. It's not uncomfortable, although Inasa is still bowing awkwardly.

By sun down, everyone leaves the stadium. Class 1-A of Yuuei Academy wait for their bus to arrive, and even the Shiketsu Academy class lingers with them, waiting for their own. There's no hostility anymore, more of an acknowledgement, of each other's presence or strength? Who knows. Shiketsu's bus arrives first and they board.

As Shouto watches your back disappear through the bus' double doors, he realizes he forgot to thank you for earlier.

He wonders why his chest aches as he watches you leave.

.......

It's the middle of summer vacation when Shouto sees you again. It's the hottest day of the season. The sun beats down on the earth, yet the sky is clear blue as if everyone’s not suffering. If you tried you can see the heat waves in the distance. The summer weather prompts him to wear shorts and a cotton button up shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He leaves the top buttons unbuttoned. He knows he could just use his quirk to save himself from the heat, and he does, but his hair still sticks to the back of his neck.

Shouto waits for his friends to arrive in the mall plaza. Friends. Such a new term to him. It feels like forever since he last had—oh wait. He didn't have friends till now. Thanks, Dad of the Year, for the amazing childhood.

"Ah, Todoroki-san!"

Oh no.

Shouto turns to see you making your way through the crowd towards him. And yet again, his heart leaps into his throat and he almost chokes. Your goddamn quirk again. You adjust the dark sunglasses over your eyes, smiling and waving at him like you've known each other forever. Ugh, too bright. He rubs his eyes before facing you again. "(Last Name)-san, it's been a while." He cringes at his hoarse voice.

If you noticed, you don’t mention it. "Yeah, haven't seen each other since the Hero License Exams," You respond, halting in front of him. You gaze at him attentively. "Oh, how'd you do? Inasa told me that you didn't pass because of him. I'm sorry for the way he treated you."

Shouto sees his reflection in your tinted lenses. You're close. Too close. He shoves his hands into his pockets and takes a small step back, making it look like he's just relaxing. He's far from relaxed. His heart pounds just like when he first saw you. But he refuses to give you the satisfaction of letting you know of your Quirk's affect on him right now.

"You have nothing to apologize for. I passed the retake anyway," Shouto answers, his voice casual. He internally congratulates himself.

Your smile widens. "Thank goodness."

"And you, what are you doing here?" Shouto asks, swallowing. He hopes you don’t notice his chest heaving.

"I'm just grocery shopping." You lift up two large, reusable bags. Shouto blinks. They look heavy as they strain from its contents weight, but you carry them like feathers. You put them on the floor.

He raises an eyebrow at you. "Right, so, aren't you a bit far from Shiketsu Academy?"

"I'm just visiting family here. What about you?" You grin, crossing your arms over your chest. You lean in. Shouto leans back. “Are you on a date?"

"No," He answers too fast. He ignores the warmth that spreads across his face. His heartbeat roars in his ears and he groans inwardly. The summer weather was getting to him, wasn't it?

You giggle, "I'm just kidding. No need to get all defensive."

"For your information," Shouto sighs. "I'm waiting for my friends. We're supposed to hang out today."

"Ah, I see," You bend down to pick up your bags, "I'll leave you to it then."

Shouto isn't sure what made him say it. He could have just let you leave, but no. He had to open his mouth. He usually thinks more rationally. This is a new low. "Here, let me help." Shouto's fingers brush against yours, and he nearly drops the bag.

You chuckle and thank him.

Well, no turning back now. He fumbles with the (heavy, shit, how strong are you?) bag and clears his throat, "So, where do you want me to carry these?"

"Right! Um, I'm actually not done with shopping yet—"

"I'll walk with you then," Shouto suggests before he realizes it. He wants to slap himself. Better yet, ice his mouth shut before he spouts more ideas.

You gaze at him with uncertainty. "Todoroki-san, you don't have to."

Curse summer. The weather was making him act out of character. It has to be. Shouto shakes his head as his head rushes to find an answer. "My friends aren't here yet anyway, and it's... it’s the least I can do to repay you."

You raise an eyebrow. "For what?"

"For protecting Inasa and I during the License Exam."

You stare at him, taken aback. "I didn't think you'd remember that," You admit, scratching the back of your neck.

"How can I forget? You were amazing going up against Gang Orca," Shouto states as-a-matter-of factly. What else can he say? It was the truth. He shrugs. "I didn't get the chance to thank you at the time. Might as well make up for it now."

"I appreciate it, Todoroki-san." You flush, facing turning pink. From the heat? Maybe, but Shouto feels something bloom in his chest. Why and what? He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t like it.

He can tell your eyes crinkle behind your sunglasses as you smile. He wishes he brought his own. You're going to blind him at this rate. He opts to look ahead.

"Shouto."

"Huh?" Your eyes widen in surprise.

He isn't sure what made him say it. He has no idea where the stupid, foolish idea came from, but Shouto gathers the courage to glance at you. "Just call me Shouto," he repeats.

"O-okay! Then you can call me (First Name)." You flush deeper and smile, wider than before and—damnit. Shouto turns away again. He feels his face warm up. Before it shows in his face, he uses his Quirk to cool his body temperature.

You shiver. "Brr. Why's it so cold all of a sudden?"

"No idea," Shouto replies nonchalantly. "So, where to next, (First Name)?" His lips twitch upwards. He likes the way your name rolls off his tongue—wait—no he doesn't. He presses his lips into a thin line.

You blink, as if you forgot what you were doing. "Oh, yeah, I need to get—"

.......

Subconsciously, you both lean into each other as you began chatting. Neither of you notice the small group of teens hiding behind a corner nearby, watching the whole interaction between you two.

"As expected of our strongest," Yaoyorozu gawks, a hand over her mouth as she blushes.

Next to her, Kaminari stares, eyes wide. "Todoroki, you sly dog."

"Shut up, Idiot," Jirou snaps, kneeling on the ground. Her Earphone Jack is plugged into the floor. "I'm trying to listen."

"Todoroki, you're truly manly, helping someone in need," Kirishima praises, tearing up. He sniffs and wipes the tear away.

Mina cheers as she jumps up and down, "You go, Todoroki!"

"It's so nice to see him take an interest in someone," Uraraka comments. She claps her hands together. "Maybe he'll open up more."

"Half n' Half actually has balls. Didn't think he had it in him," Bakugou sneers, crossing his arms over his chest.

Uraraka smacks his shoulder. "Bakugou, don't say that!"

The blond puts up his fists in an offensive stance. "Hah? You wanna fight, Uraraka?"

The teens shush Bakugou in unison before turning back to spy on Todoroki and you. Bakugou shuts his mouth. He huffs, grudgingly joining them.

Iida shakes his head. "Shameful. Just shameful. You should be be more respectful to Todoroki's privacy," He says as he peeks around the corner like the rest of them.

Midoriya sweat drops, watching his friends (and Bakugou) huddle at the corner. Fidgeting, he suggests, "Guys, this is wrong. We should just give them privacy."

"Who the fuck asked you, Deku?" Bakugou bellows, making the boy flinch.

His yell echos through the plaza, attracting people's attention. The group of teens curse.

.......

Like most of the people in the plaza, Shouto and you look up in the direction where the scream came from. He spots several heads of familiar hair peeking behind a corner not far from you. They shift and move as if they were being shoved. Shouto sighs and his brow furrows.

You laugh, "I suppose those are your 'friends'?"

Shouto nods, his face solemn. "Unfortunately, yes," he glares at the heads bobbing behind the corner.

"Well, wouldn't want to keep them waiting," You advise, taking the bag from his hand.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine," You wave him off. "Thanks for trying to help. I'll talk to you later. Bye, Shouto."

"Yeah, bye," Shouto says. He doesn't notice the hint of disappointment in his tone.

You walk off, waving goodbye. Shouto returns the gesture as he watches you till your back disappears in the crowd. Then he grimaces, turning to walk to where his friends are hiding.

As he nears them, Shouto hears someone instruct, "Quick, act natural!"

He turns the corner and finds his friends in the most awkward positions he's ever seen them in. Yaoyorozu is posing a like a model. Whistling a tune, Uraraka and Mina lean against the wall looking anything but casual. Kaminari and Jirou are pretending to try on women's clothes in the open shop next to them while Kirishima struggles to restrain Bakugou from leaping away. Iida and Midoriya stand in the clear, ashamed.

"Hey, Todoroki-san," Midoriya greets him, shifting his weight foot to foot.

Steam rolls off Shouto in clouds as he tries to remain calm.

He's far from it.

"Eh? Is it getting hot in here?"

"Wait, wait, we can explain!"

"Todoroki-san, using Quirks in public is illegal!"

"So, did you get their number?"

Something in Shouto snaps.

"Ahhhhh! Too cold! Too cold!"

"Hot! Hot!"

"The hell, Half n' Half!?"

Shouto's friends spend the rest of the day trying to gain his forgiveness. Then he realizes.

He didn't get your number.

Damn it.

.......

Episode 3 NOW AVAILABLE!!

Hope you enjoyed! Finally, some interaction between Shouto and the reader.

I honestly don’t fully understand how school schedules work in Japan. They have school during summer?? Can someone explain it to me?

If you have any suggestions, ask box open or pm me?

Check out my one shots

#todoroki shouto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #shouto todoroki #todoroki shouto #shoto todoroki #todoroki shoto #my writing #soulmate au #soulmate alternate universe #mini series #Shouto #todoroki #shoto x reader

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weekendwarriorblog · 4 years

Text

Happy Effin’ Anniversary to Me!

I was going to write something as part of this week’s upcoming Weekend Warrior, because I’m celebrating a couple personal anniversaries this month. Maybe “celebrating” is too strong a word, because there really doesn’t seem to be much to celebrate right now.

Sure, I’m pretty darn happy I’m alive seven years after getting a stem cell transplant for the acute lymphoblastic leukemia (ALL) that very nearly could have killed me in 2013. I’m also still thrilled to no end that the good doctors of the James Hospital at OSU were able to find me a great stem cell donor like Michael Levin whose stem cells have helped give me a super-strong immune system that I feel can fight off anything (including COVID-19). But all of what I went through in 2013, and 2014, and 2015, and that I’m STILL going through with all of the long-term damage done by my leukemia and its treatment – stuff I’ve mostly kept to myself -- just doesn’t really seem like it was worth it anymore.

That brings me to my second anniversary…

As of this coming week (October 10), I’ll have been writing about movies for 19 years (!), mostly reviews and interviews and such, but up until 6 months ago, I was writing every single week about the box office, how movies might do at the box office, how movies did at the box office, etc. And I spent a LOT of time researching and analyzing and writing about these things over and over, week after week, with only a few gaps (like for that aforementioned leukemia treatment and stem cell transplant).

Right now, the box office is pretty much dead, and that’s because theatrical moviegoing is dead, and no one in any level of the movie business or in any level of government seems to want to do anything about it, except sit at home cowering and/or watching their substandard junk stuff on streaming or “virtual cinema,” if you prefer. Virtual indeed.

I have made my feelings pretty clear on this subject. In fact, I’m one of the few people who has constantly been putting my ass and neck on the line to convince people that going to the movies can be done safely, and what do I get for it? I get called names, have insults hurled at me, lost fucking friends – a few of them who I actually kinda liked, too – and here we are, six months after movie theaters were shut down in New York with absolutely zero sign that the governor will ever fulfill the promise he made months ago about “reopening the valve.” New York City has been in Phase 4 for over two months and he finally allowed indoor dining in NYC that the rest of the state has been able to do safely for months. No, apparently Cuomo has had the same lame-ass bullshit shoved down his throat about movie theaters being “death traps,” the same fucking yapping #FilmTwitter big shots going on and on about, “Oh, no, I need to protect my readers from themselves by warning them that if they go see a movie I write about in theaters, they will DIE!!!”

I have this great new job at Below the Line that I really like right now, but I’m still just sitting in front of my laptop every single fucking day for 12 to 15 hours trying to keep watching and reviewing movies in this far from ideal setting just for YOU, the five or six people who are reading this right now. So yeah, if I seem to be rather ornery on social media whenever a studio chickens out and decides to move their summer 2020 release to the summer of 2021, presuming things will be better by then and that there may be any movie theaters left then… (and with apologies to Steve Martin)… EXCCUUUUUUUUSE ME!

Sure, I make a joke, but I’m pretty darn pissed off right now, but especially from the amount of lame-ass big mouths who are constantly pushing back at me anytime I make any sort of comment about movie theaters reopening safely, and not just on Twitter either. I’ve made my case. I’ve written thousands of words and offered more than sufficient proof to allow people to make their own decisions.

If you don’t want to go back to movie theaters than don’t go. You do whatever you want to do, but don’t give me shit when I request and yes, even demand, that I am given the right to do what I want to do, and that’s to be able to see movies in theaters again without having to get on a train to Connecticut or New Jersey. There are about a half dozen movie theaters sitting empty and dormant within walking distance from me, so the fact I have to go into another jurisdiction is actually more likely to spread the COVID that a.) I don’t have, b.) have never gotten and c.) don’t plan on getting anytime soon.

The way things are developing and with no new strong new releases being offered to movie theaters, they’re just going to start shutting down again out of lack of money to run them. It’s already happening and people who have made a pretty penny getting WAY overpaid for what they do for a living i.e write about movies, just like I’ve been doing for 19 years, they seem to be celebrating every single time a movie is delayed. Every day this goes on, it seems even less likely movie theaters will ever be able to reopen. Not because they’re unsafe but due to the corporations trying to save their bottom lines while firing thousands of employees.

I can’t tell you how much it bristles me to no end knowing that there are hirable movie writers out there being paid $100k+ a year, more than double what I’ve made at my highest paying job as a movie writer, to sit at home and complain about anyone who wants to try to get movie theaters reopened, get people out of their houses and into theaters so that there will actually be movie theaters left by the time the studios decide to release their oh-so-precious tentpole movies.

I commend Warner Bros. and Christopher Nolan because they tried to do something that no one else out there had the balls to do, and that was to release Tenet in a market that had been so downtrodden, first by COVID and then by the movie critics, that there was no possible way the movie could have made anywhere near what it would have made if this pandemic had never happened. And once again, the theatrical naysayers celebrate.

I have made every effort I can to support this business, even if it’s just doing a bit of unnecessary traveling to another state to help a business that has given me everything (but also nothing) for the past 19 years of my life.

Don’t worry. I’m not quitting. There will still be a Weekend Warrior next week probably with just as many reviews as I’ve been writing since the pandemic started. That’s over 150 reviews in the last six months, if you’ve lost count, and they’re all on my Rotten Tomatoes page if you don’t believe me. I have no plans on slowing down.

And what do I get for that hard work every week? No fame, no glory, and nowhere even close to the money as many of the people throwing out insults along with one or two perfunctory reviews a month just to keep their memberships in some critics group or other valid… all while they sit at home on their fucking asses watching movies on their fucking computer screens (probably in their underwear). Just like I have been doing. (I have worn pants most of the time.)

But yeah, if these people want to keep attacking me, if they want to argue and fight over every single one of my ideals and my own personal rights as a human being? If some idiot bonehead loser like [NAME REMOVED] REALLY wants to start a war with me, then guess what? They’ve fucking got it*.

As of today, October 3, I’m ready to start my war, and it’s going to make Mad Max: Fury Road look like fucking Babe: Pig in the City*.

Maybe if George Miller ever gets around to making another movie, HE can try to save whatever’s left of movie theaters. It will probably be something like out of one of his “Road Warrior” movies, because “movie theaters” will just be people sitting cozzily in their cars, hopefully wearing pants and watching movies on the side of a building from the “safety” of their gas-guzzling, ozone layer depleting cars. Hurray.

(*A. I’m not REALLY starting a war. I’m just fucking around, and B.) This was actually a bit of self-deprecating humor about the weight I’ve gained during the pandemic because I’m NOT running around the city trying to get to screenings as I often was during pre-pandemic.)

#TheWeekendWarrior Movies

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