#a universal collision side story
Text
Warning: This fic contains language, supposed major character death and injuries, inaccurate medical stuff as well as a lot of angst. Also there are some major spoilers for the 2012 Tmnt series. If any of this makes you uncomfortable I highly encourage y'all to check out my other works.
Winter.
It was a season full of wonder and magic. A time where people would gather around with one another and spend time with the ones they loved most in the world. Hiding away within their warm and cozy homes to sit around the fire and have a warm drink with one another, snuggled closely underneath blankets or sweaters and hoodies. Basking within one another's presence. Winter meant cold mornings full of sparkling snow and the air's harsh and biting atmosphere would play at those who were outside within it's elements. Winter was a season where the world would begin to shift into the magical pull of the holidays, where children and adults alike would have their spirits risen by the unexplainable enchantment of the season.
It was a season that the Hamato family had enjoyed quite a bit. Whenever winter would come to greet the busy and noisy streets of the lively City known as New York, the four sons of the family would eagerly sit beneath the drainage openings that lined the sidewalks and manholes, watching the flurry of snowflakes while bundled up tightly within their warm clothes and scarves while their cautious father would warmly watch the four children and their childish wonder filled looks as they enjoyed the season in the only way they could. From the moment they'd been able to walk and take in their surroundings, it'd become a tradition for the family of five. Master Splinter would keep an eye on the weather reports and the world above, awaiting for the first sign of the first snowfall of the season and once he was sure he'd gather his four small children and they'd watch the beautiful scene together, becoming swept within the magical and enchanting atmosphere.
It was one of Raphael's favorite things to do, though the red clad turtle would never admit such a sentimental thing out loud. But whenever winter would start to slowly creep up he'd find himself becoming excited to see that first snowfall of the season through those small little drainage holes that led to the world above them. To sit beside his brothers and watch the stunning sight sitting side by side with them, huddled together in a small little turtle pile with their father close by. As he grew older, he became a bit more embarrassed by these things such as touching and cuddling with his brothers, instead growing a bit defensive whenever it was brought up or when it damaged his pride. And for a good few years he'd remain like that, snapping slightly or being a smart aleck whenever he would become somewhat emotional vulnerable. His brothers of course were undeterred by his tough exterior and would always manage to rope him in with the tradition. And like many teenagers he'd grown to somewhat resent and take these moments for granted, never truly appreciating just how precious they were.
And now Raphael was paying the price. It was cold in the bathroom, the winter's harsh and chilling air biting into his dark scaly skin and causing him to shiver despite the blankets that were wrapped around his frame. Bathrooms weren't exactly the warmest place to be camping out in, especially in the harsh season of winter and within an extremely old farmhouse that was still within the process of being fixed up to be livable in. In fact the smartest thing that the fifteen year old could possibly do would be to head to his bedroom and crawl beneath the blankets that would undoubtedly protect him from the chilling he was experiencing. However this choice never once crossed his mind, never once did it ever make itself known to him. No instead he stayed put within the bathroom, sitting on the old chair that sat beside the bathtub next to him, refusing to leave the room despite how cold he was. Raphael's bright green eyes slowly turned their attention to the bathtub, taking in the figure that laid within its porcelain walls. Not thinking about he the red clad turtle reached over, sticking the tips of his fingers into the water, relieved to feel that it was still somewhat warm. Pulling his fingers out of the water Raphael leaned back on his chair, bringing the blankets that cradled his shoulders even closer to him.
Keeping his gaze on the unconscious form in the bathtub he took in the little details that he never noticed before. He took in the old and new scars that marred the lighter shaded scaly skin, the way the knee was bent in a somewhat weird position to help it heal from the trauma it received, to the cracks that decorated the chest plate healing themselves slowly, to the fading brusies that had painted the base of his throat. Raphael forced himself to look away from the person in the tub, and focused on the other things within the bathroom before he finally landed his sharp gaze onto the clock above the door. The hands of the ancient clock had settled onto the current time making Raphael suck in a somewhat shaky breath.
"11:49 huh....? That gives us about eleven, ten minutes before midnight."
Raphael muttered to himself his eyes slowly turning back to the person next to him.
"And when it's midnight, that means it'll officially be the beginning of Christmas. Ain't that some weird shit Fearless?"
Raphael asked his voice soft and tight, staring at the unconscious form of his older brother Leonardo. The eldest brother didn't respond to the second eldest, instead his eyes remained closed, his body unmoving save for the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Raphael felt a sharp pain hit him square in his chest as he was greeted with silence save for the gentle dripping sounds of the water from the leaky faucet. It was a sound that Raphael had grown used to, a sound of water and silence and soft breathing. It was a sound that at one time meant nothing, it now meant waiting for his older brother to wake up and end the oppressive and ominous silence that plagued the bathroom for the past few weeks. Throat tightening Raphael couldn't help but think about just how screwed up his life was. Couldn't help but think about how only a few weeks ago he'd been in New York City, living in his home with his father and brothers and April and Casey. Couldn't help but think of how simple and serene and peaceful his life had been only a few weeks ago.
'Where did it go so wrong...? Why did it go so wrong....?'
The questions buzzed about in his head, filling his mind with unwanted memories of that awful and horrific night. Memories of being powerless as he, his brothers, April and Casey were forced to watch as their enemy, the Shredder had murdered Master Splinter before their very eyes. Memories of watching his master, his father's body being tossed into the sewer system and pulled away by the fierce and raging icy waters to his death, of his brothers horrified screams along with April's and his own. Memories of Casey and Michelangelo holding him back from trying to kill the monster who took their father away from them, of Michelangelo begging him to come on and telling him that they needed to find Leonardo. Memories of an apartment living room and receiving the news that Leonardo was still missing, only to have his broken and beaten body thrown through April's window and right at his and his brothers feet. He could see it as clear as day, crystal clear and vivid, could still hear his voice and his brothers horrified shouts as they rushed to their unconscious and fatally injured brother. Donatello's horror filled gasp as he looked Leonardo over, Michelangelo's terrified voice as he saw the cracked shell. All of it on full display like a movie that he couldn't pause for the life of him.
Raphael's hands gripped the edges of his blankets, his knuckles turning nearly white from the strain. He felt his heart pound, the bump-bump loud in his ears as he recalled it all, as he recalled how he had to take the lead, recalled how he and what was left of his family had to retreat and escape from the city before the Kraang or the Shredder got ahold of them. Raphael's throat constricted as he was hit with a wave of anger, frustration, grief and guilt. His eyes burned and he found himself struggling to keep it together, to keep himself above the waves of his emotional turmoil. He should have been there, should have argued with Leonardo about going alone, should had known that something terrible would happen. He should have been there for his brother, should of had his back when he needed him the most. But he hadn't, he hadn't been there for Leonardo, just as he hadn't been there for Master Splinter. He had failed them. Raphael felt himself choke a bit on this knowledge the guilt and grief he felt hot and burning him from the inside out. Raphael felt his memories and emotions hit him at lightening speeds, drowning him and pulling him underneath their currents. Lost within the storm he didn't notice the two figures who had came into the bathroom until he'd felt a familiar embrace around him.
"It's.....it's okay Raphie......it's okay....."
A voice childish and full of tears pulled Raphael from his current position forcing him back to reality. Bright green eyes full of pain and grief met bright baby blues that were swimming with tears. Raphael sucked in a sharp breath as he realized that Michelangelo was the one hugging him tightly. Standing behind the orange clad turtle was Donatello, the tall turtle looking no better than his younger brother.
"Raph.....oh Raph it's okay.....we......we miss them too....."
Donatello said understanding immediately before he too rushed forward to hug their older brother. Raphael stiffened at the contact, enveloped within the arms of his little brothers who just like him were hurting and full of grief and guilt. Raphael found himself letting go of his blankets and wrapping his arms around his little brothers, clinging to them tightly as if he was afraid that they too would end up leaving him behind. The three brothers didn't say anything for a long time, instead just basking in each other's presence and remaining close to their comatose older brother. After what felt like an eternity the three brothers finally separated, their eyes slightly red and puffy. None of them commented on it, instead choosing to not acknowledge it. Donatello turned his attention towards the tub to check on Leonardo, his hands gentle and skillful as he did his checkup on their blue clad brother. Michelangelo sat on the floor by Raphael's legs and had reached into the tub to take hold of Leonardo's hand.
"Hey Leo.....I hope that your nap is going good and that you're getting better. I just wanted to say Merry Christmas bro.....and that we miss you....."
Michelangelo said his tone soft and full of forced cheer, but it was obvious that he was struggling to keep it together. Raphael felt his heart drop at what his little brother said and found his gaze snapping up to the clock again quickly realizing that yes it was now past midnight and that it was officially Christmas. His heart gave a nasty twist within his chest as the knowledge that it was truly Christmas and that Leonardo and Master Splinter weren't there with them, that this Christmas was the first one in their entire lives hit him. Judging by Michelangelo's shaking arm that was currently gripping Leonardo's hand and Donatello's tight frown on his face they were realizing this too.
"Mikey's right......we miss you Leo........please come back home soon....."
Donatello said his voice cracking a bit as he fought with his emotions. Michelangelo reached out with his other hand to give Donatello's arm a comforting squeeze earning a watery look from his older brother. Raphael watched them feeling like the world was crumbling around them.
"We're waiting for you to wake up Leo, so you better do it soon.....Christmas isn't the same without you here."
Raphael said gruffly, his voice wavering. The two younger brothers looked over at their red brother already understanding what he was saying. The trio of turtles went quiet after that, just sitting near their oldest brother in an attempt to reassure themselves that Leonardo was still there with them despite being in a coma, wanting nothing more than to be with him that Christmas morning. While they sat there silently, basking in Leonardo's presence as well as each other's the three turtles suddenly felt a shift within the bathroom and three pairs of eyes snapped towards the doorway. Standing in the doorway was April and Casey. The two human teens were obviously not okay, giving their own pained looks. April looked at the trio, her steel blue eyes full of understanding.
"Do you mind if we join you guys for Christmas?"
The red head asked, her voice soft.
"If not then it's completely fine bro."
Casey piped up his dark brown eyes full of sympathy. The trio of turtles looked at their friends their gazes softening at them.
"April, Casey you're both always welcome to join us."
Donatello said his reddish brown eyes full of exhaustion but sincerity.
"Yeah dudes, you're always welcome to join us and hang, especially on Christmas."
Michelangelo said his voice a little bit more lighter than it had been.
"You're family, both of you. Now get your asses in here we don't want to let anymore cold air in here. Leo needs all the warmth he can get."
Raphael said his tone serious and a bit more put together. April and Casey didn't need any further encouragement, already stepping inside the small bathroom and closing the door behind them. April was quick to sit herself next to Donatello, her blanket quickly extended to him to help warm him up. Donatello was quick to accept the silent offer already going to snuggle up against her. Casey meanwhile went next to Raphael, his own blankets wrapped around himself however he was quick to pass one of them to Michelangelo which the youngest turtle quickly accepted and wrapped himself up in it. Once they were all settled into their warm bundles and they were all somewhat close to their comatose brother, the group of five slowly began to grow sleepy, feeling somewhat relaxed now that all six of them were together. One by one they drifted off till all that remained awake was Raphael and Donatello. The two brothers were silent as they watched their remaining loved ones sleep, looking somewhat peaceful for the first time in the last few weeks. Raphael looked up at Donatello meeting his reddish brown gaze.
"So.....how's he doing?"
Raphael asked his voice soft and blunt. Donatello seemed to take a deep breath his expression exhausted and somewhat grave.
"I.....I don't know. If I'm being honest with the extent of Leo's injuries he.....he may never actually wake up....."
Donatello said giving the most truthful answer. The purple turtle watched as his older brother flinched slightly as if he'd been punched in the face, completely understanding the reaction.
'What a terrible way to find out about this......on Christmas morning of all the things.'
Donatello couldn't help but think his own gut sinking at the knowledge that Leonardo may never wake up. And he knew that Raphael was feeling the same way. Donatello didn't even want to think about Leonardo not waking up, didn't want to think about the possibility of his older brother remaining comatose forever. It was a possibility that should it come to pass Donatello as well as his family would never be able to recover from it.
'We can't lose Leo, we've already lost Master Splinter if we lose Leo too.....'
Donatello felt his throat tighten once more at the dreadful thoughts however he was snapped out of them by Raphael.
"He'll wake up. Leo's the strongest and most stubborn person we know, he's fearless and he's not a quitter. He'll pull through, we just have to wait for him Donnie."
Raphael said his voice strong and full of a belief that made Donatello stare at him in slight surprise. But the more he thought about Leonardo and just how his big brother was the more Donatello believed in what Raphael said.
"You're right. Leo will pull through. He always does in the end."
Donatello said trying to give Raphael a smile however his mouth wobbled slightly as he tried to hold onto hope. Raphael gave Donatello a small smile to help ease him and got himself settled into his chair careful not to wake up Michelangelo or Casey.
"Get some sleep Donnie, we've got a long day ahead of us today."
Raphael said using his best no arguing voice. Donatello yawned and nodded already knowing what his red clad brother was talking about. Snuggling up with April Donatello slowly drifted off as well leaving Raphael alone in the waking world. The oldest brother watched over his family for awhile, content on just being there with them. Raphael found himself gazing around the bathroom once more his eyes landing on the window and he caught sight of snowflakes fluttering in the darkness. He thought about the first snowfall of that year, how he and his family's tradition hadn't happened that year. He thought about how instead of him and his family being within the sewers to watch it they had instead had been in April's apartment and had ended up losing Master Splinter and Leonardo. Raphael felt his heart twist and he forced himself to get a grip, thinking about what he told Donatello. Looking back towards Leonardo, Raphael took in his older brother and his other family members, and how despite their situation they were still together and just how precious it truly was. As the hot headed turtle slowly drifted off he promised himself that as soon as Leonardo was awake and moving once more he'd make sure that he and his family would never have to have another Christmas like this one. He'd rather die than let it happen again.
~~~~~
Raphael Hamato sat within the lair, no longer fifteen years old but now a grown man of eighteen. The red clad turtle was relaxing on the couch enjoying the peaceful moment despite all the people who were currently within his home. Gazing lazily around he caught sight of Michelangelo and his younger doppelganger Mikey chatting away with one another and playing video games. Over by the pinball machines was Raph and Donnie who were cheering for Leo and Donatello who were currently going up against one another in the game, their voices full of excitement and free of the responsibilities that they usually carried. Sitting in the kitchen was April and Casey who were watching the two groups with amusement as they spoke with one another. However there was one person missing from these groups of turtles and humans. Raphael found himself sitting up a bit to try and locate the missing member of his small family however he didn't have to look for long.
"Ya know sitting all by yourself isn't the most healthy thing to do."
A voice crocking and full of teasing amusement came from beside him. Raphael flickered his eyes towards the source of the voice, bright green eyes meeting twinkling dark blue ones. Leonardo had sat himself down next to Raphael a smile on his face. Raphael gave a huff of amusement and sent his older brother a smirk.
"Never said I was going for the healthy way Fearless, plus I like sitting alone. It's peaceful, besides you can't judge me since I've seen you do the exact same thing."
Raphael said tone teasing. The red clad turtle felt his heart lighten up with content satisfaction when he was rewarded Leonardo's laughter. It was a sound that Raphael adored, a sound that wasn't heard too often these days and every time he managed to get a laugh out of him Raphael was filled with pride at having accomplished his mission.
"You got me there Raph. Well if you don't mind I'll just join you in your self assigned peaceful solitude."
Leonardo said with a bright smile. Raphael just snorted and waved him off.
"Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. We can enjoy the peaceful solitude together till one of our brothers disrupts it."
Raphael said as he watched Leonardo get settled into the seat next to him on the couch. The second eldest child couldn't help but notice just how relaxed Leonardo was, and just how grown up he was. He took in all the scars and all the nicks in his chest plate and shell, took in just how alive and well Leonardo was and he felt his heart soar with just how lucky he was to have Leonardo there with him and their family.
'After everything we've been through, after all the close calls and sacrifices we've had, we still managed to get through it.'
He thought pleased and happy that he still had his family. That Leonardo, Donatello, Michelangelo, April and Casey were still with him. As Raphael thought about it he couldn't help but think about all the trails they'd faced and all the precious moments that they all shared. As he thought about it a flash of memory hit him, of tiny turtles and their beloved father gathering beneath storm drains as they all watched the first snowfall of the season together. He thought about that precious memory and how he'd nearly lost the chance to have those kinds of moments with all of his brothers and before he realized it he'd opened his mouth and spoke up.
"Do you remember that tradition we all used to do back when.....when Master Splinter was still with us?"
Raphael asked not daring to look at his older brother afraid that he didn't remember.
"Tradition.....you mean the first snowfall one? Of course I remember it how could I forget it??"
Leonardo said his tone filling with a fond nostalgia at it.
"Yeah that one......I was thinking about it and......I think we should do that again this year."
Raphael said his voice getting a bit gruff like as he felt his embarrassment kick in. However his embarrassment didn't last long as he felt a hand pat his shell and was met with a beaming smile.
"That sounds like an amazing plan Raph, we'll do it as soon as the winter season starts."
Leonardo said his tone a bit crackly in his slight enthusiasm. Raphael went to say something before he felt a body tackle him from behind the couch making him lean forward with an oof.
"Dudes are we really gonna do the snowfall tradition?!? It's been ages bros!!!"
Michelangelo said his voice loud in his childish excitement. Raphael growled struggling to get his little brother off of him.
"Mikey get off of me you little-"
He began to growl out in irritation only to be interrupted by another voice coming from Leonardo's direction.
"I can set up the TPhones to keep an eye on the weather forecasts come autumn and I can upgrade my computer to keep a more detailed account for the first snowfall of the winter season."
Donatello said, leaning over the back of the couch as he watched Raphael and Michelangelo bicker somewhat in amusement as he spoke to the trio.
"That's a great idea Don, that'll help us keep better track and be more prepared."
Leonardo said sounding proud of Donatello's thinking. The purple turtle seemed to get flustered and was about to say something when they were all interrupted by another voice chiming in.
"Snowfall tradition? What's that??"
Mikey's voice piped up having followed his older doppelganger to see what was going on. Behind him were his own brothers who were all just as curious as him about what the older turtles were talking about.
"Only the best thing in the world little dude-!! Every year we'd watch the weather and see when the first snowfall would hit New York! Once we figured it out all of us would go to one of the manholes or drainage openings and watch!! It was one of the best things of the whole year!!"
Michelangelo said his baby blues sparkling. Mikey's own light brown hues seemed to catch the sparkle that Michelangelo's had and was quickly filled with just as much excitement as his older counterpart.
"Oh me gosh that sounds so cool!"
Mikey squealed with delight.
"I know right??? Oh dude you and your bros should totally join us it'd be rocking!!!"
Michelangelo squealed right back. The two orange clad turtles had quickly went off the rails in their excitement oblivious to their surroundings.
"Miguel I don't think that's-"
Donnie began to say only to be cut off.
"Is that it's still a bit early for something like that and we should probably wait before we all make any plans like that."
Raph said shooting Donnie a pointed look. The soft shell just gave his older brother an unamused look.
"It honestly sounds hella sick, Lee why didn't you guys say something this is like the most awesome tradition."
Leo piped up leaning on Leonardo who just gave him a bemused look.
"Never really came up."
The older blue clad turtle responded earning a mock offended gasp from his younger counterpart. At this point April and Casey had joined the group of eight, having caught what was being discussed.
"That sounds like a fun time! I think we should give it a shot and do it this year."
April chirped obviously getting a bit ecstatic about the idea. Casey was grinning widely next to her as he leaned on Donatello who gave a grunt but otherwise remained silent.
"Red's right that would be wicked to see."
The hockey player said. Soon the room was filled with voices and excitement at the tradition and plans on how they'd all go about. Raphael at this point had given up trying to get Michelangelo off of him and instead took in the sight of the people around him and realized just how truly lucky he was to have them in his life. He took in the sight of his brothers, of Donatello who was the mind behind them to Michelangelo who was the heart of their family, to April who was the inspiration, to Casey who was the carefree nature, to Leonardo who was the spirit of their family. He took them all in and thought of all the times that he'd nearly lost them, to all the times that they'd faced together, every moment, every fight, every challenge and tragedy and laughter. All of them they'd faced together, all of them they'd made it through. These five people were Raphael's strength and his very reason to keep going and he couldn't imagine life without them by his side.
But they weren't the only ones he was fighting for now.
No he was fighting for their younger counterparts as well.
Raphael had somewhere along the line had began to consider them apart of his group of those who he'd die for and just like his brothers he would do whatever he could to keep them safe.
'I've lost a lot of people within my life, and have nearly lost my brothers more times than I could count. But no matter the odds we'll always be together, because that's what we do.'
Raphael felt a small quirk of a smile on his face, a feeling of contentment filling him. However that smile was completely wiped off and replaced with flustered shock by Michelangelo's next statement.
"Hey we should totally invite Mona! She'd love it, and I bet she'd love snuggling up with Raph-"
Michelangelo began to say before Raphael's bright red face filled his vision.
"Mikey-!!!"
The lair was filled with shouts and laughter and questions after that but if Raphael was being honest he wouldn't have traded it for the world. After all every moment he spent with his loved ones were moments that he'd cherish forever.
Not that he'd ever admit that.
*Writing practice, writing practice wooooo. To be honest I kinda based this off of my one post I'd made the other day as I'd been struck by the horrifying realization that Raphael, Donatello and Michelangelo had spent Christmas and New Year's alone without Leonardo and Master Splinter after the Invasion of New York's events. After that I'd decided to just start writing and it led me to this confusing mess lol. I honestly tried my best and lowkey I might end up rewriting this but who the hell knows lol. Anyways if any y'all read this I hope you enjoyed it!!!*
#my writing#ooc probably sorry#anyways enjoy i guess#i tried my best y'all sorry if this sucks dhdhdhdhgj#a universal collision side story#kinda#teenage mutant ninja turtles#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rise of the tmnt#tmnt#rottmnt#tmnt/rottmnt crossover#tmnt 2012 rottmnt crossover#rottmnt tmnt 2012 crossover#tmnt raph#rottmnt raph#tmnt leo#rottmnt leo#tmnt donnie#rottmnt donnie#tmnt mikey#rottmnt mikey#tmnt april#tmnt casey#tmnt splinter#tmnt mona lisa#raph x mona#mona x raph#i might rewrite this whole knows lol#probably not my best work because I'm lowkey exhausted mentally but I wanted to write so I just went for it lmfao sorry in advance
57 notes
·
View notes
Text
it's easy to ferry souls, not carry them
deep down in the realm of the netherworlds, there exists a rower who transports deceased souls from the land of living to the land of dead-
and occasionally lends an ear and a hand, in the event of yet another collision between their weary queen and her just as cheery suitor...
[uraume deserves a raise.]
▸gojo satoru x fem!reader; the tale of kore!gojo & hades!reader w a guest appearance by charon!uraume; uraume is a very nice parental figure to you [ooc!uraume but ehh]; the reader is honestly so sweet and hot-tempered...; the cutest doggy cerberus too is there!!!!; gojo satoru must be his own warning...; uraume does not like gojo [no parent [blood-related or not] actually wld]; fire hazards; 2k wc
▸ i've nvr read percy jackson and wtv i wrote here is based on my shaky knowledge of greek myths and stuff 😁😁 anyways, this header's from pinterest, these dividers are by @benkeibear and the characters used ain't mine. pls do not plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️
▸ belongs to series 'wreaths of asphodel' – same universe as the work 'hey, where is the pomegranate tree?' — but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!
"why is kore so set on marrying me, uraume?"
it isn't the ask itself which causes the rower to nearly lose grip of their oar– but the way it is spoken: soft, solemn and faintly tense. they look away from the endless expanse of the styx before, to find you staring at your reflection in the inky waters, features unnaturally crumpled.
uraume holds back a frown. "has her majesty considered asking the god the same?"
"i have asked him," you mumble, "but i did not receive any conclusive answer in return. the imp was being too vague– must be a trait learnt from those shifty nymphs always sticking to his side."
if your faithful follower detects anything except dislike in your words, they make no mention of it. merely humming as they continue to row the boat, "and may this servant know the question her majesty asked the god?"
"two," you mumble even more clumsily now; they take a beat to grasp it, too concerned by the way you drape yourself over the edge, nearly falling into the water as you say, "i asked him two questions— one, if he loves me; two, if he wants to have children should we get married."
shock must not be uraume's first reaction to these queries, yet it is— and for a moment, it isn't you sitting there anymore.
instead, it is a little girl, no older than seven or eight years, cherubic face fixed in a look of deep concentration and fascination while the rower narrates to her stories from times millennia ago–
only for the child to morph into a young lady– no, goddess– the very next beat... slouched under a regal cloak too heavy for her shoulders, under a royal crown too large for her head... that sweet innocence of childhood nothing but traces now, having been withered by the foul, dirty politics of those damned deities high up on that mountain—
"what answers did the olympian offer her majesty?"
"he said he would love me and sire my children if that is what i want— i asked if he wished anything out of our union— he said all he wanted is to be my husband–"
something between a frustrated sigh and an exhausted scoff erupts from you, becoming an opaque fog the moment it hits the frigid air of the underworld. uraume plucks the oar out the water to come sit next to you, letting the boat be driven by magic.
"you're worried," they state, forgoing all formalities in favour of giving you some much-needed comfort. you never much cared for stations anyways, quite unlike your elder brother, the former king.
"an unfamiliar friend poses more risk than a familiar enemy, uraume," you mutter, resting your head on their shoulder, "why do you think kore wishes to marry me so much, if not out of love or the prospect of the powerful offsprings we might beget?"
"marriage is not solely for love or for procreation," the rower starts to explain, mildly amused before it grows into sympathy at your baffled expression.
ah, they muse fondly, not unlike a parent watching their child witness the world seemingly the first time ever since they learnt to walk, you who presides over something as profound as death yet knows not of the trivialities of life...
"it can also be for many other reasons like–"
the remainder of the words skitter away from uraume— cerberus is playing with gojo.
the fierce guard of the netherworlds, the three-headed hound, loyal and dutiful to a fault: hades' dearest canine companion is frolicking with the god of life in a green meadow, that most certainly was not there so close to the stygian marsh, when they last—
"gojo is laughing," your remark draws them away from their musings, only to find a changed shadow over your countenance— pensive yet not thinking at all; almost as if you too are floating in the stale air of your kingdom akin the soft flower petals...
another ring of raucous laughter pierces the silence, mingled with a delighted series of barks— cerberus is busy licking gojo's face now, the olympian reduced to a puddle of giggles as he scratches behind the dog's ears.
his happiness so clear in the stretch of his grin and the crinkle of his eyes, very much the jarring contrast to the last time—
oh. oh, oh, oh–
"escape," the word leaves uraume in a sudden moment of realisation, as quiet as a breath but loud enough for you to whip your head back to face them, confusion engraved into your scowl. "escape?? what is that supposed to mean, eh?"
the rower feels their lips lift into an infrequent smile. "the god of life wishes to marry you to escape— from his mother, or from his many suitors, or perhaps from mount olympus itself."
"wha– how– hah," you breathe out a disbelieving little huff, "that is simply ridiculous. have you even heard yourself? that is ridiculous."
used to such resistance from yourself, even more from your brother, they move to state their points, only to beaten by you as you persist to speak.
"no one in their right mind will decide to come live in the underworld, no matter how overbearing their mother or insistent their suitors are. have you seen this place? it's too, too unlike the lushness of the earth or the grandeur of the heavens he has experienced. and–" you add, a harsh laugh accompanying it. "gojo satoru is a god. a fish might leave the water— but a god never steps a voluntary foot down that horrible mountain. never."
"but the olympian never truly lived on mount olympus," uraume says once they're sure you've completed your tirade, "and you are a goddess as well. why do you speak so ill of the heavens then?"
"why?" you echo the word. they nod, hoping you take the bait they've intended for you. you do.
"why, because that place is nothing but a shining apple with a rotten core!! everything is polished marble and glittering gold there. people constantly wave at each other, lavishing smiles and praises like there is no tomorrow. everything is so warm and bright— what a bunch of lies and liars!"
familiar fire burns in your aura, the immense heat making the waters erupt into boiling— uraume uses their powers to cool the river down, lest anything disturbs you.
you're too far gone in your rage to be shaken, however, continuing:
"but it never can hide the grime and dirt accrued beneath such shine and sheen. nor the vicious minds and crooked hearts of those deities up above– what lame excuses of gods and goddesses, hah. and you might think me to prefer the light and warmth up there— you will be sorely wrong, my dear uraume!! i much prefer the genuine darkness and frigidity of my beloved kingdom to the faux comfort of the awful mount olympus—"
"is there no possibility the god of life too despises mount olympus for these same reasons, milady?"
you open your mouth and close it, then open it again to let out a very aggrieved whine– momentarily transporting uraume to your younger days. the rower merely chuckles when you punch their arm lightly.
"you're the worst, uraume," you cry, getting up and moving to sit on the other end of the boat. the rower too rises but only to resume rowing the boat by the oar.
"you never spoke this way when sukuna was the ruler— only because his baby sister is the ruler now, and you think she is very stupid—"
"as much as i respect and revere lord sukuna, he wasn't one to listen to anyone else," uraume interrupts gently, "you do, though– which is why i spent so much time telling you this. i hope you did not mind."
"hey, no," you immediately wave away their concern with a wide grin, eliciting a smaller one from the latter, "i could never..."
another peal of laughter and barks rings through the otherwise-quiet. you abruptly trail off, the same conflicting expression from before on your face yet again. though not without a spark in your eyes, uraume notes, almost as if you're slowly learning how to solve the puzzle who is repeatedly offering himself to you.
uraume keeps the silence you initiate, choosing to row the boat while you keep staring at the assortment of hues near the stygian marsh...
until you call their name and declare, an odd firmness in your smile, "well then, it is decided. i shall allow gojo to stay here for as long as the god so wishes to, escaping whatever or whoever he is escaping. and i shall protect him from the latter, should it ever come for him."
a beat. your smile falls into something graver. "would it be better if i swore by the dread water of styx, uraume?"
"uh, um," the rower finds themselves at a loss of words, the first time in seemingly forever, and they have been around since titanomachy– but before they can recover themselves enough to formulate a proper reply, a giggly voice joins in—
"well, if my rose does that, i would consider myself the most blessed amongst all mortals and immortals!"
— and the waters surrounding the boat shoot upwards in a scathing geyser-like jet and steam— the ferocious queen of the netherworlds visibly torn between remorse and terror, as they offer uraume a stiff nod and gojo a horrified look, before vanishing in a wisp of fog.
the boiling waters of the river styx calm down only after a twenty-minute-long struggle by uraume, joined at the very end by gojo.
the latter looks positively delighted, when the former collapses to the bottom of the boat, exhausted beyond belief. "hey, charon. was that a result of your queen getting flustered by me, huh?"
yes, it was. it very much was, the sentences nearly slip past the tired rower's crumbling defences... until it hits them– who they serve, and who they don't.
uraume decides to throw back a glare and a lie. "her majesty was not flustered, lord kore. she was enraged at how you invaded the privacy of her weekly boat ride, intended to make her relax."
"oh, puh-lease," the god makes a face. the rower is certain he would have been punished in the pits of tartarus for all eternity, then some more were he to pursue you this way during your brother's reign, let alone disrespect you thus.
ignorant and insolent, he continues, "in few days time, i'll be allowed into the privacy of her living quarters; what is the privacy of her boat th—"
"you're lucky you did not make such outrageous remarks in front of the queen," uraume cuts him off, none too kindly nor gently, "if you did, her majesty would have certainly burnt you along with the boat to a crisp–"
"i know," comes the defeated reply within the instant. and while gojo is still not in uraume's good graces, the latter decides to notch him a level higher, considering the god of life accepts their queen's powers.
not many do.
he strikes a pathetically pitiful figure, uraume reckons, seeing him sit then slouch on the bench. "was she serious when she said she would protect me?"
your loyal subject nods, certain and solemn. "yes, she was. the queen is never careless when it comes to making promises."
"oh, that's reassuring," gojo says quietly— only to recline even further in the very next beat– an anguished, grating wail tearing from him to the stifling silence looming near the stygian marsh. uraume wonders if it is worth it to steer the boat towards acheron... then push him into its waters of woe...
they decide against it on catching the desperation worn by the god.
for all it is, it might nothing more than a ploy. yet something tugs at their mind to pause and listen when gojo howls, "why does my rose always scurry away after tilting my world on its axis? why does your queen always torment me like this, charon?"
uraume stares pensively at their face in the sacred waters of styx for a while. then heaves a mighty sigh.
certain, this exchange between the goddess of the dead and the god of life will impact not only your and gojo's respective worlds— but the general world and everyone else in it, as well.
did you know, in the actual greek myths, persephone was never called so before her marriage to hades? she got it only after, w the name meaning "bringer of death". her initial name was kore, referring to her being a maiden & the spring goddess.
the river styx was called the "dread river of oath" by homer– in both the iliad and the odyssey [greek epic poems], swearing by its waters is the "greatest and most dread oath for the blessed gods" -> this shows how serious the reader is towards ensuring gojo's safety and freedom, and how deeply this affects gojo as well [source: wiki 😇]
also: the reader is totally ready to jump into the water to swim away when she realises gojo was listening in on her conversations- but then she remembers she can js vanish away and so she does js tht— the queen of the underworld, and of escaping, hehe
also also: the reader is slightly jealous when she is talking of the shifty nymphs always sticking to gojo's side. [uraume identifies it; you think it is js your usual dislike to such frivolous things and ppl as flowers and nymphs etc.] [hades is emo imho 😊]
▸ masterlist
#gojo x you#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x reader#satoru x you#satoru x reader#jjk x you#jjk x reader#gojo fluff#jjk fluff#kit posts 📝
207 notes
·
View notes
Text
All These Years [Part 1: "Saturday Night"]
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader
Summary: You met Matthew Murdock unexpectedly at Columbia University and you couldn't deny that there was an instant attraction–for you. But for Matt, you became as close of a friend to him as Foggy did. As the years pass by, your feelings only grow for your best friend, but all you can do is watch as he dates and sleeps with every other woman on campus and eventually in New York City but you.
Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut
Word Count: 3.3k
a/n: Welcome to me starting yet another Matt Murdock series. This one isn't intended to be too long, but this story will be told in a series of installments (much like my series Falling For the Devil is). It will be angsty and there won't be comfort for a long while. This series will follow Matt and Reader briefly through college and then after, all the while Reader pines secretly for Matt. You can find the installment list for this series here. If you're enjoying it, please leave me some love!
Sprawled out across Foggy’s bed and lying on your stomach, you focused on your laptop on the mattress before you. Absently chewing on your thumbnail, you were trying to finish your assignment for class while simultaneously trying to tune out the Foo Fighters blasting from Foggy’s laptop just next to you. As you worked, your left hand dropped down the side of the messy bed, fingers feeling around for your beer bottle on the floor. A moment later you found it, your hand curling around the neck of the bottle and picking it up. You brought it to your lips for a long drink, eyes never leaving the laptop screen.
You often spent your Saturday nights hanging out in Foggy and Matt’s dorm because your roommate was usually fucking her boyfriend. It wasn’t a secret. So you usually spent the evening either drinking with the pair of them, working on assignments, or both. And usually both Matt and Foggy were here with you, their dorm room filled with the sounds of teasing jokes and loud laughter from the three of you. It was a ritual that you’d all always splurge on takeout, the room smelling like pizza or burgers or Thai. And that was how every Saturday night had gone since you’d met both Matt and Foggy. Except on the evenings Matt was out on a date.
Like tonight.
And on those nights, you always drank and worked on homework. Generally while Foggy sent you sad, knowing looks and occasional comments telling you to just admit your feelings to Matt, which then usually resulted in you denying your feelings wholeheartedly.
But the truth of it was, Foggy was right. You’d had feelings for Matt since the day you’d met him at the library six months ago.
Frantically your thumbs swiped across your phone screen, typing up a message to Professor McCarthy discussing the details of your current project. You were hoping to make some headway on it at the library today, planning to work in the quiet confines of the library away from your very sexually active roommate.
You were almost finished writing the message when you ran straight into something incredibly solid, your phone almost falling right out of your hands at the collision. But before you had the chance to even glance up and see who it was you had hit, a loud handful of heavy thuds rang out before a sharp pain shot up through your right foot.
“Son of a motherless donkey!” you shouted.
A loud snicker came from in front of you, but a very enraged librarian yelled out over the noise and drew your attention.
“We do not shout in the library, miss!” she scolded. “Keep your voice down or leave!”
You shot her a sheepish, strained smile as your foot throbbed in pain. She glared at you a moment longer before returning back to her computer, your attention finally focusing on who you’d apparently run headlong into. And then you’d almost jumped back in surprise, not expecting your victim to be the guy grinning down at you. He was wearing dark glasses which covered his eyes, but even despite that, you could easily see how attractive he was. Your mouth felt like it had gone dry instantly.
He was beautiful .
“Shit, I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I should have been watching where I was going, I’m sorry.”
“Quite alright. And I apologize for dropping my books on you,” he said, the grin never leaving his face. “Didn’t break your toes, did I?”
“No,” you said, a nervous laugh leaving you. “Let me just–”
You bent down to help him gather his books at the exact same moment he’d bent down to do the same, which resulted in the pair of you bumping your foreheads together. Standing bolt upright, your right hand flew to your forehead rubbing the sore spot as you cursed under your breath. An amused chuckle sounded before you, the noise drawing your attention.
“What? No more interesting curses that time?” he teased, the palm of his hand briefly rubbing his own forehead. “I’m not suddenly the son of a fatherless goat now?”
You flushed, shaking your head but unable to fight down the smile that was spreading over your lips. “Uh, no,” you answered. “Sorry, I uh, I can grab your books.”
“That’s alright, I can grab them,” he assured you.
“No, really,” you pressed, “I caused you to drop them, I can at the very least pick them up for you.”
“But I dropped them on your foot, and judging by the way you shouted, it sounded like it hurt,” he countered. “And, well, they’re my books. Makes me responsible for them.”
You watched him curiously as he finished with a shrug, wondering why he was so adamant to argue with you instead of just accepting your help. Eyes falling down to the very large texts he’d dropped on your foot, you skimmed the titles of them–and then immediately laughed. His head tilted curiously to the side in response.
“I’m missing something, what’s so funny?” he asked.
You gestured a hand at the texts on the ground by your feet. “Law student,” you said.
“Yes?” he replied, eyebrows rising above his glasses.
“No, I mean, it makes sense,” you explained, focusing back on his handsome face. “Why you’re arguing with me about something so ridiculous. You’re a law student.”
The corners of his lips twitched upwards at your words. “Are you implying I enjoy arguing, miss…?”
You bit your lip, hesitating for a brief moment before you offered him your name. And then you nodded. “Yes,” you told him. “I am in fact implying that, because you’re doing it again. Looking for something to dispute.”
He went quiet for a moment, his head still tilted a little to the side. Your eyes took the opportunity of his silence to take in the sight of him before you, studying the boyish grin still on his lips and appreciating what you could see of his face. Gaze dropping down, you noticed the way his dark tee-shirt fit his chest, displaying more muscle than you’d have expected on a law student. He clearly spent some time at the gym. You’d also noticed the cane in his hand and deduced immediately that he was blind and therefore thankfully couldn’t see you checking him out.
His hand reached out in the space between the pair of you, drawing you from your ogling of him. You curiously glanced back up to his smiling face.
“I’m Matthew,” he said. “But I go by Matt.”
Your own hand quickly darted forward, shaking his offered hand. The brief contact of his warm hand wrapped around yours caused your heart to hammer wildly in your chest, something nervous flitting around in your stomach. And then you quickly drew your hand back, too afraid to accidentally hold onto his for too long and have him thinking you were strange.
“Tell you what, if you tell me your major, I’ll let you pick up the books,” he suggested.
His offer caught you off guard and you laughed, shaking your head. “Oh you’ll let me pick up your books, huh? The ones that nearly broke my toe?” you teased back.
He flashed you a broad smile, the brightness of it lighting up his handsome face. Your mind momentarily went blank at the sight before you found yourself suddenly blurting out your major and then picking up his scattered textbooks from the floor.
Eyes still focused on your laptop screen, you lowered the almost empty bottle of beer sightlessly back down to the floor beside Foggy’s bed. You spent a moment typing a few things up for your assignment, but your hands came to a stop over the keyboard the moment you heard noise just outside of the door.
Your heart sunk to your stomach when your ears registered the giggling mixed with the sound of Matt's deep, rumbling voice on the other side of it. Foggy glanced up from his notes, his attention drawn to the sound, too, before you saw his attention shift down to you on the bed beside him. He took one look at your face and was shooting you an apologetic smile, his mouth opening as he was about to say something.
But then Matt and a pretty blonde came barging in through the door of their dorm and Foggy's mouth instantly closed.
"Oh, sorry, were we interrupting?" the blonde asked, eyeing you and Foggy.
"We were just studying," you told her, voice strained.
Her nose scrunched up as if the thought of homework on a Saturday night was just that repulsive. You bit your tongue as she wrapped her arms around Matt’s waist, drawing herself into his side. Something painful and sharp coiled in your stomach as you watched him smile and drape his arm around her shoulders in return, his own brows creased at your words.
"Really?" he asked. “That’s all you’re doing?”
"Uh, yeah dude," Foggy stated matter-of-factly. "We usually study every Saturday night. You know that."
The blonde laughed, turning and burying her face against Matt's broad chest. Jealousy flared like a fire in your veins–scalding hot and all-consuming. In the six months you'd known Matt, you'd watched him go on dates with a handful of different women. All of them beautiful. And you were always left wondering why you'd never been good enough to be asked on a date by him.
"Right, yeah," Matt said, flashing you both a smile. "I just forgot my scarf."
Your eyes watched as he felt along his nightstand, grabbing his dark scarf off of it. The young woman stood on her toes, resting her chin on Matt’s shoulder. Your heart ached at the scene unfolding before you.
"You know, my roommate is out," the blonde said to Matt, her tone suggestive and not quite quiet enough for you to have missed.
Your eyes snapped down to your laptop's screen instantly, trying hard to ignore that nauseous feeling churning in your gut as you bit down harder on your tongue. There was only one reason they'd be going back to her dorm with her roommate gone. You weren't stupid.
It's not like you didn't know that's what Matt was doing with all these young women he’d been going out with, but you usually didn't have to witness his conversations about it. You didn’t need to look up from your laptop’s screen to know what he was reaching for in the top drawer of his nightstand now, the blonde once again giggling from her place wrapped around him.
Gritting your teeth together, you fought hard to keep the burn of tears at bay. You would not cry over this. He was just your friend. He wasn't yours. He could sleep around if he wanted to. It’s not even like he was being an asshole about it–these women wanted it. And honestly, you couldn’t blame them. You had often wondered what it would be like to have sex with Matt. Or to even just be wanted by him, even for a moment.
You tried to focus on your homework, desperately attempting to ignore the thunderous pounding of your heart in your chest and the way Foggy was staring at you from the corner of your eye. You would not let this make you cry. Because it was just a stupid, silly little crush on your friend. That’s all it was. And it would eventually pass with time and you’d laugh about it someday with Matt, joking about how absurd it was to have ever thought the two of you could have feelings for each other.
“Enjoy your studying ,” the blonde said, her voice cutting through your thoughts.
You glanced up, watching as she sent you and Foggy a wave before leading the pair of them towards the door. Matt was laughing lightly, wrapped around the back of her with his cane folded up in one hand and the unmistakable gold foil of a couple of condoms hanging out of his back pant’s pocket.
You laid frozen on the bed, your heart further sinking to your stomach as your eyes lingered on their retreating forms. Eventually the door closed behind them, a loud giggle erupting before all you could hear was Foggy’s laptop still blaring Foo Fighter’s “Best of You” and feeling like you were being mocked by the universe itself.
Foggy’s hand on your shoulder caused you to jump on the bed, startling you out of your trance. Head whipping in his direction, you glanced up at him with raised brows. His own were drawn tight and low on his forehead, a deep frown set onto his lips.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
“Yeah, of course,” you instantly answered. “I’m fine, Fog. I told you, I don’t like Matt.”
His hand squeezed your shoulder gently as he whispered your name. “Then why are you crying?” he asked.
Right hand darting up, you wiped the back of it against your cheek. Unexpected dampness hit the back of your hand and you swallowed hard. Clearing your throat, you forced a smile back onto your face and turned your attention back to Foggy.
“I’ve just been staring at this screen for too long,” you lied. “Eye strain, you know? It’s a bitch.”
You pushed yourself up into a sitting position, turning and bending over to grab your beer from the worn wood floor. As you brought it to your lips to finish off, you heard Foggy saying your name softly again behind you. Swallowing down the beer you rose up to your feet, that forced smile still on your face.
“I’m grabbing another, you want a new one?” you asked, gesturing at his beer.
“Come on,” Foggy said seriously, glancing down at his laptop long enough to lower the volume of his music. “Don’t lie to me here. I’ve known you for months now. Everytime Matt is with some other chick you have this look on your face like someone punched you in the gut and then poured gasoline over your expensive programming laptop. I’m not blind like Matt, I see the way you look at him.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you muttered.
You made your way to the mini fridge across the room, tossing your empty beer bottle in the recycling bin the guys had next to it. Opening the door, you bent down and pulled out another beer from the case you’d brought over. Rising back up to your feet, you grabbed the bottle opener from the top of the fridge, popping the bottle cap off. As you took a pull, you turned back around and saw Foggy sitting on his bed staring at you very seriously, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Can you just be real with me for a minute here?” he asked.
You rolled your eyes, taking a step away from the fridge to lean up against the wall. “Fog, we’re just friends. Matt is my friend,” you stressed.
“But you like him as more than that, don’t you?” he pushed.
You ground your teeth together, your hand tightening along the bottle of beer as Foggy continued to press forward with his questions. That angry, jealous monster in your gut was thrashing inside of you, begging to be let out, but you tried to shove it down.
“He’s my friend,” you said sharply.
“Then why does it make you cry when he goes off to have sex with other chicks?” he pressed.
“I told you, I wasn’t crying it was–”
“Don’t lie to me,” Foggy cut you off, shaking his head.
“Fine!” you snapped, pushing off of the wall and crossing the room towards Foggy. “I like him, okay? I’ve liked him since I ran into him at the library and he shot that stupid fucking charming smile of his at me! But he only sees me as a friend, so it’s fucking pointless!”
Foggy’s face fell, his eyes softening as he stared back at you. You threw a hand out, shaking a finger at him.
“No, uh uh, don’t look at me like that, Fog,” you said firmly.
“Why don’t you say something to him?” he asked. “Tell him you like him?”
Your hand flew up, two fingers pinching the bridge of your nose as your eyes fixed upwards on the ceiling, fighting back tears. You really didn’t want to cry over Matt. Not tonight. Not again.
“Because he clearly only likes me as a friend,” you answered.
“You don’t know that!” Foggy exclaimed. “You’ve never told him how you feel!”
“Fog,” you began, pinching the bridge of your nose even harder, “I see you guys basically every day. It’s been like that for almost six months now. If Matt was interested, he’d have asked me out by now. But he hasn’t because apparently I’m not good enough for Matthew Murdock to ever–ever want.”
You couldn’t help the way your voice cracked on the last word, your eyes snapping shut as the warm flood of tears slowly snuck out of your eyes. There was a creak of the bed before you felt Foggy pulling you into a hug, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tentatively wrapped your arms back around Foggy.
“That’s not true and you know it,” Foggy whispered. “You’re vastly smarter and funnier and sweeter than all of those other girls he brings back combined. You’re a damn catch, inside and out, and I’m sure Matt sees it.”
“No,” you disagreed, shaking your head as a loud sniffle left you. “He obviously doesn’t feel that way. That’s why I’m just his friend , Fog. Nothing more. But I don’t–don’t want to talk about this anymore, okay?”
You pulled away from Foggy, wiping the back of your hand across your cheeks. Foggy had a sad smile once again on his face as he let out a little sigh, nodding his head.
“Okay, so what do you want to do tonight?” he asked.
You shot him a look, gesturing your beer at your laptop. “Have you suddenly suffered from amnesia? We’re working on homework.”
Foggy pulled a face, waving a hand at the open laptops behind him. “Fuck homework, let’s have some fun,” he said, a grin quickly appearing on his face. “You want to go to the bar? I can break out my awesome dance moves.”
You couldn’t fight the smile drawing its way onto your face as Foggy flailed his arms and shook his hips not very in sync with the song playing from his laptop. He abruptly stopped, his eyes widening as he gasped.
“Oh! Or we can get some late night noms!” he exclaimed. “You want tacos? I would kill for some tacos.”
“Okay, yes,” you grudgingly agreed. “Tacos sound like heaven right now and I really don’t want to work on homework anymore.”
“Yes!” Foggy exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air dramatically. “Finishing all of that can be a tomorrow us problem, but tonight–we feast!”
You laughed, shaking your head as you brought your beer to your lips. “Okay,” you agreed, “but let me finish this beer and save my work.” You took a long pull off of the bottle as you made your way around the bed towards your laptop. “And for the record,” you added, “I don’t think we can afford to feast, Fog.” You gestured your beer between the pair of you. “Broke college kids, remember?”
“You know what?” Foggy said, focused on turning off his music and closing out of his open tabs. “When Matt and I are rich lawyers and you’re a rich programmer, we’ll have a night feasting on tacos in honor of our college selves.”
A sharp pain hit you in the chest at the mention of Matt, but you kept the smile on your face as you finished turning off your laptop. You really didn’t want to think about him right now. Especially not with what he was doing.
“Sounds like a plan,” you agreed.
Bringing your beer to your lips, you chugged the last half of it down, hoping to drown and dull that lingering ache in your chest. When you’d finished, you pulled the bottle from your lips and shot Foggy a strained smile, one he didn’t quite seem to catch the pain in.
“Let’s go get some tacos, Fog.”
#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x you#matt murdock angst#matt murdock x f!reader#matt murdock x fem reader#matt murdock series#matt murdock fic#matt murdock fanfic#matt murdock
501 notes
·
View notes
Text
Best and Worst of both worlds (Part 4) [Choice: GO TO UNIVERSITY]
tw: yandere, slight injury
damn yall iam tempted to add a third mid yandere like not as slayer girlboss as Yves but not as cringefail Montgomery, but fr idk how to slot it into the story because i think its gonna get 2 crowded
anywahys enjouy and pleas id appreciate them reblogs
part 5
You gave him the address of your university. He may now know where you frequent, but at least he doesn't know where you live.
"Alright, buckle up."
--
"Here ya' go." He pulled up right to the entrance.
You muttered thanks, but as you were unbuckling yourself, he told you to wait for a moment.
You watch him fish a ballpoint pen and an old flyer from somewhere, he removes the cap of the pen using his teeth before scribbling something on the piece of printed paper. He took something out from the side pocket of his door before shoving it into your hands.
You opened your palm to see that he had written his phone number on a torn brochure of the countryside. You quizzingly looked at the crumpled $20 note between your fingertips.
"I'm... actually not done workin' for the day. I'll have to work extra hours to make up the ones I lost. I don't know how long you'll be here, but I bet you're gonna get hungry or thirsty."
You said that you can't accept this, it's a lot of money!
He laughed right at your face.
"Don't worry about it! I'm workin' full time, that's just a little change for me. You just focus on settin' your grades straight. I'll probably clock out at ten in the evening. Give me a call and I'll pick you right up if you're still here by then."
Well, if he insists. You shoved the cash and his number into your pocket as you opened the door. He got out and opened his trunk, he retrieved your backpack with a grunt.
"What's is IN here?" He mumbled as he found it abnormally heavy for someone of your stature to carry daily. You replied that it's your study materials, he only shook his head in pity.
"Are you sure you're alright on your own?" He helped you get your arms into the loops of your straps.
You assured him that you're fine and you're used to this. He opened his mouth about to say something, but you already took off running. You looked back and waved goodbye, he scratched his head in bafflement as to how someone like you can run that fast with that much load.
--
The next bus is in an hour.
Sitting under the bus shelter is definitely not ideal in this severe weather. You wiped the sweat off your brow.
The only place you know you could lurk around without seeming strange is the library or one of the university's many cafes. You checked the time, it's still just half past three in the afternoon. Yves doesn't leave until six.
The cafe it is.
You don't know what to expect, whatever they're selling is always out of your budget. So you never bothered going near it, as it only made you hungry and bitter that you weren't born into generational wealth. But since you're a rich person today thanks to... what was his name again? You had a small spring in your step as you made a beeline to the cafe.
Perhaps you were too excited, you were too fast and too distracted by the various blackboard easels around promoting their respective cafe's dishes. You weren't paying attention to the man leaving the establishment
You bumped into something, rather, someone. Your collision is followed by the sound of a hot liquid spilling and a metal clanking. You gasped, trying to take steps back but you ended up stumbling over your own feet, tripping over your own ankle and falling backwards.
A sense of deja vu washed over you as a strong arm wrapped itself around your waist, keeping you steady and unharmed. But your dignity is definitely bruised to death.
You were afraid to look up. You know who this chest belongs to. Who else would wear a black turtleneck in this scorching hot weather and not break a sweat?
You muttered apologies as he lets go, realizing that not only did you commit accidental assault on your biggest crush, but you also made him spill the golden brown, clear, steaming tea that he's probably looking forward to drinking.
He grabbed you by the wrist and began inspecting you for any burns. Your eyes trailed to his other hand, which is now reddened by the scalding liquid splashing onto his skin. His fingers are still wrapped around his half empty, reusable stainless steel thermal cup. The rubber lined lid is now on the floor, sitting still in a puddle of wasted tea. The smell of jasmine permeates the air and into your nose.
Once he deems you unharmed, he lets go. And you rushed to pick his lid up, flicking any remaining liquid off before nervously presenting it to him.
"Thank you." He plucked it out of your hands and entered the cafe again. Through the pristine glass door, You watched him talk to the employee behind the cash register, they nodded and accepted his cup. Soon after, someone came out with a mop in hand.
They smiled and greeted you as they placed the mop onto the puddle. You panicked when the staff opened the door and invited you in.
At this point, you wanted to run away and hide in a ditch. But Yves is staring at you as he wipes his injured hand with a cool, damp towel provided by cashier. There doesn't seem to be any discernible emotion present on his face, but when you tried to flee- even only a single step, he narrowed his eyes at you.
Defeated, you hung your head low and went in. Setting your kiloton bag onto a nearby chair before making the walk of shame to the counter.
You tried not to look at his face, knowing that you're going to burst into tears out of severe embarrassment and guilt. You went straight to the cashier and asked to pay for his replacement.
"No worries! You don't have to, we replaced his drink free of charge. It was an accident, after all!" She chirped.
That came to you as a surprise. Aren't they supposed to be money hungry? Well, whatever. At least you don't have to pay extra, but you asked about their pastry choices. You wanted to buy him something sweet to make it up for the bitterness.
"Right this way!" She walked to the display case. They all look exquisite, but you felt like your eyes are about to pop out of your head with the prices. Unfortunately for you though, the option which is the most presentable and the cheapest is a large slice of fresh cream fruit cake, for the price of exactly twenty dollars.
You tried to hide your hesitance as you told her you wanted a slice. Good lord, and you see people eating their baked goods every day. She prepared one on a quaint little ceramic plate, placing a miniature fork next to it.
"That will be twenty dollars." You bite your tongue to prevent yourself from grumbling, knowing that Yves has some sort of superhuman hearing. You fish the $20 out of your pocket and try your best to smoothen out the wrinkles.
The woman's customer service smile faltered a bit when she felt a little resistance trying to take the note from you. It took a few more seconds of you mourning and tugging it before you finally let go.
"Thank you!" She beamed again.
Finally, you have no choice but to face him. At least you have a plate of cake with you.
His gaze softened and the straight line formed by his lips was replaced by a pleased smile. You followed him to the table where you placed your bag.
He set his bag down on the chair next to him and took a seat. You placed the dish on the table, you're actually unsure if he wanted you here or left alone. So you awkwardly stood nearby, waiting for the next social cue.
"It's been a while since we last talked. I missed you." He purred. His words and body language is enough to tell that he's accepting of your presence. But you're still cautious, it could just mean he's being nice for treating him to a scrumptious dessert.
"Please." He gestured towards the chair opposite of him. "Take a seat. I would love to catch up with you."
It would be rude not to. You settled in your chair, completely disregarding the rule you set for yourself to not mingle with him.
The table is... smaller than you thought. You're physically a lot closer to Yves than you would like, the table barely served as a barrier between you and him.
"How have you been?" He asked while taking a bottle of hand sanitizer from his bag. Yves applied a decent amount on his palm and rubbed it in thoroughly, going gentle on his recent injury.
You said you were... fine. Not wanting to reveal too much about yourself. The last time that happened, you managed to act a like fool in front of Montgomery. You don't want to look stupid in front of Yves. So you threw the question back at him.
He hummed in response. "I suppose... it could be better."
Yves left it at that. You don't know what to say next, trying not to look at the fresh burn. So you apologized again.
"You're forgiven." He shot you a teasing smile. "How endearing of you, treating me to a slice of this decadent sweet." Yves picked up the fork to cut and retrieve a piece.
"And, It's my favourite. Why don't you have a taste?" He brought the fork closer to your face. You tried taking the utensil, but his other hand went ahead to hold your chin. Applying a gentle pressure to silently signal that he wanted you to open your mouth.
'Why is he like this?' You internally screamed as you allowed the detectability of the cake to sink onto your taste buds. You might be biased, thinking that the dessert is a thousand times better due to him feeding you. You thought that this is the best thing you ever ate in your life.
Your face is probably hotter than his tea at this point. Curling your toes in your shoes as the embarrassment becomes nearly unbearable.
He released his hold as soon as he felt a little tug from your head, knowing not to go too far with his actions; just enough to excite your growing infatuation with him.
You give him a thumbs up as you repeatedly wipe your face with your sleeve as if trying to wipe away the blushes under your skin. Your ears perked up at his chuckles, it was something that you would like to hear often. But you don't think it's worth having heart attacks over.
"Your classmates were discussing about the exam." He cut another piece for himself. You watched him with widened eyes as he used the same fork to eat the cake; daintily covering his mouth with his hand. Yves didn't seem to care that the utensil was smeared in your saliva and proceeded with his train of thought. "They were lamenting over it in the library."
Then, he stopped. Bringing his piercing gaze back up to you.
You freaked out, realizing that this is the cue for you to respond appropriately. You let slip out that the paper was atrocious and you were fully expecting to fail your course. Blood ran cold in your veins as you realized he now knows more than he should.
"That's a shame." He replied. "But, you're being unfairly harsh on yourself."
He was interrupted by a staff member handing Yves his thermos cup filled with his Jasmine tea. Yves thanked them and they went back to their post.
"You're clearly dedicated to your studies." He nonchalantly fed you a piece again, this time without having to hold your face. Only when you bit into a slice of strawberry among the fresh cream did you realize what you had done. Yves slid the metal fork out of your mouth and took another scoop for himself.
This is extremely unsettling how you suddenly felt that comfortable accepting his antics.
"I know you did well." He took his time chewing his food behind his fingers. "You will not fail."
You found comfort in his words no matter how much you thought he didn't know anything about your life. It was nice to have someone recognize your efforts for once without resorting to fake pity.
However, unless your marker accepts tear stains as coherent answers, you are definitely going to fail.
Though, there is a small part of you that found it weird Yves is so sure of himself. It almost feels like your valid worries are simply sleep talk to Yves. But in the end, you dismissed it and convinced yourself that he's just a huge fan of toxic positivity.
You and him continued the day chatting about each other. Mostly about you, though. There were many times that you caught yourself oversharing, the majority of which you either downplay or overplay depending if it made you look good or bad.
Yves would only have a mysterious, even knowing smile on his face when you grossly upsell some of your best moments. You don't know why you did that, maybe subconsciously you tried to impress him.
Eventually though, you don't seem to mind sharing forks with this man who you spoke to twice and counting in your life. You realize if he wanted you to shut up about something, he feeds you a piece. You were offended, but humbled because you would immediately realize how ridiculous you're sounding at that moment.
You swear, Yves must be a practitioner in the dark arts. He made you act in ways you don't normally do, you're unusually attracted to him and he always seems to know how to control you.
You made a mental note to check your bag for any stray crystals, strange leaves, rocks or jewelry when you get home.
Yves sets the fork down on the empty plate before taking a sip of his tea. He listens attentively to every word you tell him about your interests in your favourite colour, your favourite TV show, your favourite song-- things that you knew would bore just about anyone.
Because if someone you don't really know were to rave about whatever you're raving to Yves, you would be fucking bored out of your mind. Your friends and family would be bored too, why is Yves so different? You're completely self aware that whatever you're blabbering right now should cease.
But somehow couldn't stop for the life of you.
It was like a projectile vomit of words, you kept yapping endlessly while Yves nodded and occasionally interjects with his own opinion at the most appropriate times.
In the end, the only thing that snapped you out of this mania is overhearing one of the staff members complaining about having to take the filles trash bag out back.
You knew that food establishments usually do that at the end of the day and you were instantly reminded of something important.
His smile fell into a thin line again when you suddenly whipped your phone up to check the time.
Two busses has gone by and you're still here. The next bus is in five minutes.
You scrambled to gather your belongings, hopped off the chair, and said a quick goodbye to Yves- right after explaining that your bus was arriving soon. He didn't look too happy with your sudden departure, all he did was observe you unspeakingly with his posture straight. Both of his hands were resting on the table atop each other.
You felt chills down your spine as he looked straight into your eyes with no anger, no sadness, but none of that warmth from before.
It scared you, but missing the bus again scares you even more at this point in time. So you took off running, leaving him alone in the cafe.
He spent a few more minutes sipping on his stone-cold tea before, collecting his cup, standing up, and leaving the building. Yves closed the door behind him and from his handbag, he drew out a familiar piece of printed paper with a certain construction worker's phone number scribbled onto it.
Yves took his time to tear it to shreds with controlled, fluid movements of the wrists. He repeated enough times to give him a handful of thin, even strips. There was no way of knowing what the document was anymore, which satisfied him.
He dropped his handiwork into the trash can he walked past. Yves sanitized his hands before heading in the direction of your bus stop with slow, relaxed strides.
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere oc#yandere male#yandere concept#tw yandere#yandere x you#yandere oc x reader#male yandere oc x reader#oc yves#oc montgomery#yandere ocs x reader#male yandere ocs#yandere ocs#tw slight injury
66 notes
·
View notes
Text
Epiphany | CL16
Summary: Based on Epiphany by Taylor Swift (if you want to listen while reading it would add a nice gloom). Charles Leclerc's girlfriend works for the Ferrari F1 Team and faces the other end of having a driver boyfriend in motorsport after he gets in a horrific crash.
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader
Genre: angst, fluff in the end if you squint.
Involves: A car accident, descriptions of injury, descriptions of a panic attack, crying, fainting, mentions of medical urgency and care, motorsport terms, hospital, blood.
Word count: 2,2k
This is a work of fiction. Any celebrity mentioned does not behave as written and I do not know them in real life. I am writing this story solely for my own entertainment and the marvel or comfort of any readers.
As this is placed in the Formula 1 universe, this does not refer to any real race, event or tragedy, nor do I want any incidents to happen in real life.
Her laugh echoed in his head along with the loud, piercing "beep" coming from his ears, every race y/n would knock on his helmet, asking for him to keep it safe. The team hadn't locked the Hans device to his helmet before the race, and his neck went way forward with the collision - but it wasn't the worst thing caused by it. The crimson F1-75 was slammed against the wall, the front wing was absolutely scrunched and missing some scattered pieces along the track. It was a red flag. The whole paddock went silent. His thigh was making him want to grunt in pain, but he couldn't make himself turn on his radio mic and voice what had happened, his vision was a bit blurry and he didn't want to make the injury real by saying it out loud.
Y/n felt paralyzed. Her whole body felt cold on the inside and it felt like her throat was slowly parting. She looked slowly at some engineers at the Ferrari pit wall and Binotto was already looking at her, half apologetically, half giving her permission to leave her work. Being a strategic engineer for the Ferrari team while dating their main driver felt like a dream until about a minute ago. While running rapidly in the track limits, she didn't realize what she was doing until some volunteers and the medical team stopped her, not far from the car. Her legs were now hot and her feet burning a little, she was panting, the huffs of air causing tiny vapor clouds to leave her mouth.
"Ma'am, please calm down, will you be the one accompanying him to the hospital?" Y/n listened to the question, her brain took some time to put the words together coherently, and she couldn't really answer anything right now. "I- I... I don't know, I need to see him," there it was, the ripping throat. It kind of burned. Her voice was heavy and breaking. "please."
An old lady was on his left, wearing the same red cross printed under the neon vest. She seemed a little more emphatic and put her arm around the distressed girl to take her closer. It wasn't right, what she was doing. But there was too much panic in her eyes for her to be able to proceed whithout seeing Charles.
Y/n was still a couple feet away from the car when the lady stopped her. The team was preparing to take the driver out of his seat via airlift, he had passed out. She frowned a little. Her eyes kept traveling fast through the whole scene; some people were already taking tiny pieces from the track, the medical car was stopped close by, already opened, the front wing was scrunched against the wall, and... his legs were accommodated by the front wing, there was too much of the car into the wall, what had happened? Her gaze flew over in his direction again, and, there was a vivid red by his thighs, staining the suit. Her breath started to feel and sound too fast, and that one old lady was already prompting her arms out in order to distance her again. Y/n turned to that first man from before "Si- Sir, I think he's bleeding out" Her eyes were completely wide, paralyzation hitting her again as she was basically being pushed to the side of the medical car. While the man lingered a firm gaze with her for a while, she tried to plea with a look. She couldn't cause any more fuss or delay Charles from getting the needed attention. The reality was suddenly hitting her too loudly, everyone was still there, everything was still expectantly quiet, attentive eyes, curious mouths, and a bunch of cameras filled the paddock. There was a whole Grand Prix taking place, this was her job as well, no place no scream or cry, even though she desperately needed to.
After that, everything seemed to go by in some sort of haze. Her mouth agape in a slight "o" while the driver - boyfriend - was taken out and put in a rescue board, everything happening too slowly inside her head. Y/n bit her whole lower lip in an attempt to keep tears at bay. It took a while to notice the man inside the medical car signaling with his hand for her to enter. After blinking her eyes strongly and shaking her head, in an attempt to clear both her thoughts and her vision of the whole scene going by, she went inside.
Though she was relieved she could be with Charles at that moment, by his side while he got medical attention, y/n thought she was internally falling down at the side of the man laid down, slowly breathing in and out, while a limited, few-people team was taking emergency care of him. His thigh was, indeed, bleeding, since there was a piece of the car that cut his skin in a deep flesh wound after being creased from the inside. One young lady in the car was setting some IV up but had her attention on the way y/n held Charles' hand through her safety latex gloves - med school did not ever cover being apathetic to the expression of fear in someone's face like that; the raw feeling of the woman on the other side of the car, making her reflect on how was the couple's life.
"Doc, I think he... How can we avoid more blood loss? I'm afraid he could crash out." She tried to say it calmly, in a low voice - if the woman couldn't possibly avoid for y/n to hear the team handling the trauma, she wanted to at least keep her from being startled. Y/n looked to her right, the man who was avoiding her to come closer before was in fact the doctor operating most of the damage control they could before getting to the hospital. Her eyes kept going wide, she looked from the man to the injury and avoided it turning her gaze to the door, she sniffed, hoping they could arrive soon.
Charles' situation was not bad after all, the surroundings after the crash, the dust, the unconsciousness, and the blood might have scared everyone along with the memory and the knowledge of how crashes can be dangerous in the fastest modality of motorsport. He needed a CT scan on account of the fainting, and after having his thigh cleansed and stitched, he was in a private room with his left leg up and a cervical collar, with the promise that Binotto would arrive as soon as possible after the race.
Y/n's scare, however, was barely minimized; although she had the news that all the procedures went fine and Charles himself was not further harmed, she had yet to get to see him awake. With only 20 minutes of her own body shutting down into some sleep after she was sent with him to a room, she dreamt of seeing his eyes, his smile, or even listening to his voice, though only in a bare grunt, thirsty for water - that, and only that, would give her the glimpse of relief she needed to end that day, to compensate, make sense of everything she saw, from the car starting to fail on a tiny screen to an unconscious injured boyfriend being carried around.
She was warned about the pain-meds Charles had taken before, and the scary IV was still there by his side, but still, y/n couldn't take her body away from the hospital bed, watching him closely, drawing every detail in her mind. She had decided to get away from the phone as soon as the important information was sent to those who mattered, desperately needing to get away from the drama.
Minutes after, when her chin was rested on the bed and her eyes were starting to give up on the promise of being there when he woke up, needing to surrender in rest after the agitated day, y/n felt a hand caressing her hair ever so slightly. Energy jolted back to her veins and she looked up quickly to find his semi-open eyes, that blue and green mixture barely visible yet and a weak smile forming on his lips. She giggled, reaching some sort of high before actually getting up and helping Charles to a sip of water.
"Sorry for the scare, little one" it came a little raspy, but she couldn't help letting out a huge sigh, and while her body relaxed, a natural "I love you" left her lips without any supervision. "What are you feeling?" she was worried about making him think or talk too much and had the knowledge that he needed to rest, but he was there, and she just couldn't help herself. "I'm... well, good, thinking of the circumstances, thinking a lot about what this means to the championship, though... It was an ugly crash and I got a DNF-" He stopped when seeing her expression, it seemed all involuntary, but she was frowning and lightly shaking her head "Okay, no, I'm sorry we're not gonna- we won't talk about the accident." He had fallen used to be very technical in conversations, mainly from interviews after races, but he knew y/n wasn't being technical and was probably overstressed to have witnessed the crash. He wasn't feeling all good about it himself, he got scared, but it was his job - to be there taking the high-speed risk.
"I asked Pierre to bring your favorite blanket," She said, chuckling through her nose a little. "the blankets here suck, and I thought you'd like it when you woke up..." She sighed again, it would probably not be the last time, she needed to let the fear out of her system and she was also too relieved for him to be there. "He's coming with Binotto after the race, but we'll need it back at home, so I need you to get up and going, okay?" They both smiled with the optimistic plea.
Y/n took a sip of water herself, before getting him some more. Processing the shock and the fear and the tears were no good, and now that they were subsiding, it left room for her mind to go back to the workplace and bring a little anxiety. She should be analyzing if there was something wrong with the car if it was a mistake or mainly if someone else had hit him, but she knew the team was making a good job at that. Charles reached his hand to her leg when he noticed it was bouncing. "You know, the painkillers are working fine, but having this beau in front of me is probably making it all even better." He stated in a foolish way of getting her in the moment again.
She laughed soundly. Thank God. Y/n placed both hands over his, caressing it a bit. "You're on morphine, amore. But thanks for the generous compliment. I probably look a mess..." Another sigh, they were both smiling now, exchanging glances.
They still probably had a while before everyone arrived, and Charles probably needed to sleep, but he refused to waste this moment with y/n, he refused not to show her that he was here and he was fine. He would hopefully be with her for a long time still; 3 summers was already feeling like so little when weighed out with how much they have lived together. Some would say that it took a scare in life for you to realize you need to take some things a step further, and, though he was basically on drugs right now, the ferrari driver wouldn't deny giving your future some thought.
"You scared me so bad... what would I do without you," she vented, at last getting rid of the final bad thoughts, clueless to the ones on his mind until the last bit, when they seemed to have gotten in sync. "I would not be alright, you know, I can't imagine a life without you." Charles shook any decisions off, sticking to the simple for now. "When I get out of here we're gonna do everything, we're gonna go for a walk, see the stars, and I'm gonna hold your hand... like this. We'll go to the little market you like, and buy something silly. I'll get you pain au chocolat from that little shop down there, and we could sit on the benches outside while we watch the fountain... people going by... and I'm gonna kiss you like I kissed you on our birthday."
She smiled, relaxed. At that moment y/n wanted to daydream with him for the rest of the day. "And where are you going to get the time to do all that, stronzo?" Another round of chuckles filled the room at the sound of his loud "I will!". "Yeah, but you need to rest, okay?" she offered, and he was about to insist for a while, but the girl beat him to it "I'll be right here, trust me I'll not leave your side. They would have to drag me away from your bed like in the movies." With that, and another wave of medicine effects hitting him, Charles relaxed offering her a last smile before closing his eyes again, and right there some sort of epiphany hit y/n about the essential meaning of it all. Him, being there, and the love they shared and the fun they had sharing jobs in the same universe. Just the sense of relief she needed before dozing off again, even if only for another twenty minutes, before everyone else arrived.
#charles leclerc#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc oneshots#charles leclerc blurb#charles leclerc x reader#f1 drivers#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 fluff#f1 imagine#f1 smut#f1 fanfiction#f1 fic#formula 1 fanfiction#formula 1#ferrari f1#scuderia ferrari#drivers x reader#f1 drivers x reader#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc angst#f1 fandom#f1blr#drive to survive#f1 x you
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
And you know I always want to hear more about the YJ WIP, so Young Justice: Fenix
I'm going to switch things up a bit here. For those who might not know, that's how I call a Jason-centric, longfic WIP of mine set in the Young Justice (cartoon) universe. It takes all four seasons as canon (it cherry picks re: the tie-in comics), and mixes some of my headcanons regarding Jason's character in it with some mainline comics canon that I don't think would apply to the show, but that serve my purposes. AND it throws in some dcau canon (but making it my own) for good measure.
Though the story is largely about Jason, the collision with his old life and the reunion with his family, it's told in multiple POVs. Mainly to advance the plot and not just write a navel-gazing Jason angst fest xDD. I thought I'd list the characters that get to have POVs, and tell you a bit of what they'll be bringing to the story. In order of appearance:
Talia al Ghul. The story opens with her! She's the main plot-mover, because she's in the thick of the actual conflict (vs. the new league of shadows + the light), preparing and moving pieces so things go the way they're supposed to. The dynamic between her and Jason is shaping up to be interesting too: it's different from how I see their comics relationship, AND different from the fanon mother-and-son dynamic. There's some of that, maybe, but due to circumstances and the large gap between him and Damian in this canon (nearly 20 years), he funcitons more as a parental figure than a brotherly one... cue spousification añsdklfjasdf. It's been fun to write.
Jason Todd. He's the main guy. He's going through it xD (also, this version of him didn't go into a pit, so he's healed the slow way and that's had an effect on him.
Dick Grayson. He's running point on The Superhero Side of things, as a leader, as a link between various sets of the plot, etc. His relationship with Jason is still forming. They are closer in age and (in my head) they actually shared time and space in the manor, as brothers, which makes some things easier and something more complicated. He also offers a counterpoint to Bruce (next one). In every instance we see into Bruce's head, we see that (although he rarely exteriorises it), he thinks about Jason. Dick doesn't, he has a mental block the size of a country. Until things come crashing down... very close to his birthday...
Bruce Wayne. He's there to suffer! I say this with affection because yj!Bruce is better than most Bruces but. I enjoy putting him through the ringer. I'm giving him angst about Jason, I'm giving him angst about Damian, I'm giving him angst about this-mysterious-red-hooded-guy... even about Alfred, and about other things I still haven't ironed out completely lmao.
Damian al Ghul. He's at the center of the conflict, what our mains are protecting above all. He's six years old. My goal is to strike a balance with his character, because otoh, yj offers a different version of the al Ghuls, which would change things, but I do love comics!Damian and the edges he comes with. His relationship with Jason tugs at my heartstrings.
Dinah Lance. She has a much smaller part than the ones above, but she has a couple of POV sections of her own. One of the first scenes I wrote for this fic was a therapy session with Bruce shortly after Jason's death, and I didn't want her to be in the fic *just* for that lol. She offers a little insight into the Senior League, into how (what in this world is) a very public child hero's death affected things, etc.
Cassandra Wu San. I simply find this (very, very different) version of Cass fascinating and wanted in her head. I wanted to show her perspective on the other bats, Barbara (who hasn't gotten a POV herself because this version of the character is simply more interesting through Cass's eyes) and Bruce in particular. And I also thought that, timeline-wise, it'd fit that she might've met Jason as the Red Hooded Ninja if they were in the League of Shadows around the same time. So that's fun.
Artemis Crock. I wanted someone on the original team to have a POV as well, and she was the immediate best choice. She can help move the plot on that side (here she's the new team leader), she has insight on the Shadows as well (Jade is also around btw!), I imagine as the teammate who Jason would've connected with the quickest, and we get to see some of her conflicting feelins re: an old teammate being resurrected... and not being the one she misses the most.
Tim Drake. He caused me a lot of headaches because a.) the show version of Tim is really... just there and b.) I started properly planning the fic at a time where I wasn't feeling particularly kind towards comics!Tim. Luckily for my peace of mind I got over that lol, but even then, that period made it so I put extra effort with this character and the result is that he has his own parcel of the plot LOL. Featuring undercover mission, archeology digs, among other treats for him. His dynamic with Jason is complicated (Jason has a lot of feelings that are really more about himself than about Tim, but Tim is sort of in the way of dealing with those lol), added with the fact that when they meet, Jason is still keeping his identity under wraps and he can't air all of that out... yet xD
So basically: the Waynes (though Tim wasn't ever adopted in this version of canon, in my head; his step-mother is still around) or inner batfam circle + Talia + one member of the team + one member of the JL.
ask me about my wips!
#replies#talking to the void#my thoughts#dc#dc thoughts#young justice#young justice wip#writing woes#jason todd#talia al ghul#dick grayson#bruce wayne#damian al ghul#damian wayne#dinah lance#cassandra wu san#cassandra cain#artemis crock#tim drake#artemis tag#ty!
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
1: Pilot
They say the matter of the collision between worlds, known as 'The Great Assembly', was the start of a new beginning.
New beginnings are a language familiar to you, though you've found yourself somewhat at a stale period of your life. So when you're offered an opportunity to break out of the routine for a bit you happily accept. After all, new beginnings are also new opportunities.
For you this means some new friends, an unreasonably hostile naga that seemingly despises you and the uncertainties of loss.
Gender neutral reader x monster (male naga). sfw. Next
The beginning of a new world order twenty years past, known as 'The great assembly', has caused not only a lot of issues, but also a lot of opportunities. The human condition and what it means to be a sentient person had changed forever, since two worlds collided and were combined into one. There had never prior to the great assembly been consequent proof of parallel universes, however when yours and the monster one collided on a twist of universal fate, all prior scientific hypothesis on the matter were even proven right, wrong, or rewritten.
For the assembly had happened, and the two worlds that collided proved to be similar enough that it allowed for minimal changes in physical place and geography - however the spaces used by people inhabiting those places were changed for good. Creatures of all shapes and sizes, of myth, of old folk tales, of regular fantasy suddenly became a reality. The media was at an outrage, telling of homes being suddenly 'invaded by monsters'.
That counted for both sides.
Humans have always had numerous perspectives, stories, legends, myths going on monsterfolk in all shapes and sizes - and the world, or well, your world, soon learned that the same was true for monsterfolk on humans. It seemed no matter the content, category, popularity of a human-written story, there was a monster-written counterpart, down to every last bit of literature. The great assembly was cause for an enormous influx in art of all kinds, and a gigantic population boom. The calamity that followed of rearranging the entire infrastructure of society was no less than an impossible challenge, and multiple fights, protests and political scandals ensued, while every single sentient being adjusted to their new reality.
The world, as a result, got a whole lot bigger.
In present time, things are more or less back to a regular state. There's still crime, fights and war, there's still love, education and work. Inter-species relationships can be as strained as they can be friendly, and there's still a shared general consensus of what constitutes a 'good' vs a 'bad' person. Some prefer to live in the urban, some prefer to live in the rural. Some work desk jobs, some are retailers, some are in school, and some are on the streets. The assembly didn’t care what race you are or where you live - everyone gets the same standing point in existence.
But most of all, the people of the world, monster or human, strive for a regular, fulfilling life.
So here you are, a desk jockey in a financial company with a non-fulfilling life, but not knowing how earn a wage to survive if you quit, and not knowing how to apply for something different. You job is secure, and you're not worried financially. Your office mates consists of a large mix of both humans and monsterfolk, and for all intends and purposes, it's a normal work environment. Sure, your minotaur manager sometimes bumps his horn on the door frames, the gnoll assistant always leaves papers they hand you with small accidental scratchmarks from their claws, and the interior design is shifting to accommodate people much larger and smaller than the regular human. But the working day, hours and hierarchy structure remains the same.
You're at your desk typing away when Irwin, a human coworker and, forced upon you, your closest friend, peeks up over your computer screen.
"Psst," he whispers in mock subtlety. "Pssst, hey. I got you an offering."
Irwin is a lean guy of average height, sporting an undercut and a nose ring. He's only a year older than you, though he often uses this fact to utilize a 'small vulnerable young coworker'-approach when addressing you. All in good fun, of course.
His desk is the one in a cubicle right in front of yours, and this isn’t the first time he’s used your close proximity to his advantage.
You cog an eyebrow at him. "That usually means you have some paperwork you want me to look at."
He dramatically puts a hand over his chest and gasps. "Why I'd never - can a guy not offer his precious office buddy a gift?" he feigns hurt, looking dejectedly at the floor.
"You can't. There's always a catch with you," you roll your eyes at him, but don't hide the smile on your face.
Irwin's always been one to get behind on work, but he's genuinely a nice person, albeit goofy and unstructured. How he's thriving in a desk job is beyond you.
"I want - to give you this!" he proudly presents a USB key. "The whole season of the mon version of that weird show you like so much. IF," he makes a show of holding the key just out of your reach, despite you not even reaching for it, "you look over the numbers on this sheet to make sure I got it right."
You groan. "Again? Really Irwin, have some faith in your abilities, I know you can do math!"
"Last time you saved me from returning 5000 bucks to the wrong customer! I'm paranoid, okay?" he leans over your desk. "And you're so good at it! You catch everything!"
You notice the calamity has earned a few stray looks from your office mates, who all seem to glance your way in amusement. This isn't the first time Irwin has been at your feet like this, effectively branding himself as the office clown. You wouldn't mind, if it didn't mean he consistently insisted on pulling you into his shenanigans. Out the corner of your eye you spot your manager Barney coming down the hallway. You'll need to get rid of Irwin fast to avoid an earful.
"Irwin -" you warn.
He catches the direction of your look and smiles dastardly.
"Pretty please? It's HD~" he tries to sell it, nonchalantly waving the key in front of you, staring with puppy eyes.
You sigh. It's not that you're actually particularly interested in the show he's downloaded for you. You've only told him a few weeks ago you were watching the hum version, and in passing mentioned you wondered what the mon version would look like. You do however find it quite endearing he noticed and remembered.
Even if it's for his own nefarious gain of getting out of paperwork.
"Hand me the USB," you relent finally.
Irwin beams at you. "You're the absolute best-test in the world!"
"I know. And you're a terrible co-worker."
"Oh, the WORST, absolutely horrendous, rude and disrespectful. I don't know why you put up with me, but I am eternally grateful."
"You're taking advantage of them being too nice, Irwin," comes a rumbling voice.
You look back to see Barney, in all his imposing glory, standing at the cubicle next to yours, and you try not to jump in surprise.
How did he get here so fast and silently on those hooves?
Barney stands about two meters, with horns and face of a jersey bull, and crosses his arms over his massive chest. You thank the stars he's currently not scowling at you, but Irwin shrinks a bit back into his own cubicle.
"Taking advantage – Sir, I would never! It's an equal trade, and effective usage of resources. I do my part, they look it over, and the company thrives on our shared effort!" Irwin argues.
Barney huffs. "And does you precious coworker here ever ask you to look things over?"
"Well, no, but-"
"Because they actually do their job properly and on time. If you'd planned this better you would have more time to look it over, and you wouldn't have to waste their time with YOUR workload. Do better next time."
Barney’s reprimanding is as always deadly and precise.
Irwin's shoulders slump as he looks to the floor. "Yes, Sir."
"Honestly, it's not an issue, it doesn't take long to-" you start, but Barney cuts you off.
"That's not the point. Irwin still needs to learn how to plan his things. Don't let him off that easy," he stands up straight. "But that's not the thing I wanted to discuss with you two, actually. If you'd come with me for a moment."
Barney turns on his hooves and walks away without waiting for acknowledgment.
You share a look with Irwin, who shrugs, whispers 'uh-oh!', and cheerily steps after your manager. You follow suit.
Barney’s office is fairly simple, consisting only of a desk, his working computer, and a pair of chairs stacked in the corner. He motions for you and Irwin to pick one out and sit.
He sits opposite to you behind his desk.
"In light of current events, the head of our department has called for what they adequately call a “consensus strive”,” Barney does quotation marks in the air as he says it with a sour expression. “Something about developing the company team to function better as a group. Apparently, there's been something stuck in the gears between each department in the company. Blame thrown around, deliveries on projects not met, deadlines not kept, the general bad blood.
"So the heads have gotten together, and they propose a solution: Each department sends some representatives to speak of the going-ons at a shared company wide conference-trip," Barney eyes both of you. "And I want you two to go as representatives for us."
Silence hangs in the air for a bit, before Irwin lights up. "For real? That sounds – well, awesome! Fun, even."
Irwin looks to you for your reaction, but you can tell by the excited grip on the arm of his chair that he's already dead-set on going.
"What exactly does a conference-trip mean?" you ask.
"It means you will be going on a trip with other representatives of different departments of the company for 5 days," Barney explains. "There will be team-working activities, cross-department meetings, friendly competition and the works. It takes place in the mountain range just outside of town.”
Irwin deflates just a little bit. "5 days? Isn't that – I mean, a lot of work can be done in 5 days," he notes, gesturing toward the rest of the department. “You sure it’s fine without us for that long?”
Barney eyes him. "Appreciate the concern Irwin, but it would be a good look for the department," he smirks. "Don't worry about your workload – it'll be here when you return."
"I bet," Irwin sighs, and Barney chuckles.
You offer Irwin a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before turning to Barney. "Well thank you for the opportunity Sir, but I have to ask – why us?"
"Irwin’s current level of focus suggests he would better thrive elsewhere for a bit, and you seem the only one capable of keeping him somewhat in line," Barney replies with a nonchalant shrug. “’sides, it’ll be good for you to get out and get some fresh air.”
Considering you and Irwin are nowhere near the top of the food chain here, you get the feeling he deliberately avoids the word 'expendable'.
“So, you in?” Barney asks.
Irwin looks at you with a pleading expression. Well, you’re not one to turn down an offer like that.
“You got it, boss.”
#colderwriting#monster romance#gender neutral reader#x reader#monster lover#naga#the beginning of probably one of the longest things I've ever written#also a huuuge wip#I may go back an edit things as this progresses to fit with the story as new things come up#but the whole thing right now is about 50k words?? how the#the great assembly#monster x reader
111 notes
·
View notes
Text
10 Best Deep Moon Quotes
The moon has captivated humanity for centuries with its enigmatic beauty and mysterious allure. As Earth's closest celestial companion, it holds a special place in our collective imagination. In this article, we delve into the depths of the moon, unraveling its secrets, and reflecting on its profound symbolism. Through a series of deep moon quotes, we explore the moon's impact on our emotions, spirituality, and the human quest for discovery.
>> Quotes Metal Poster Wall Decor <<
>> 500+ HD Quotes For Instagram <<
The Moon's Mystical Aura
The moon possesses a mystical aura that has inspired poets, artists, and dreamers throughout history. Its ethereal glow casts a spell on the night sky, evoking a sense of wonder and enchantment. As we gaze at its serene visage, we are reminded of the vastness of the cosmos and our own infinitesimal place within it.
Deep Moon Quote 1: "In the depths of the moon, secrets lie waiting to be discovered."
Deep Moon Quote 2: "The moon's silver light whispers secrets to those who dare to listen."
A Gateway to Self-Reflection
The moon's gentle presence provides a sacred space for self-reflection and introspection. Its tranquil beauty encourages us to delve into the depths of our own souls, shedding light on our hopes, fears, and aspirations. Under the moon's watchful gaze, we find solace and clarity amidst life's chaotic tapestry.
Deep Moon Quote 3: "In the silence of the moon, introspection finds its true home."
Deep Moon Quote 4: "The moon's tranquil presence reassures us that we are never alone."
The Moon's Emotional Tides
Just as the moon exerts its gravitational pull on Earth's tides, it also stirs the tides of our emotions. The moon's phases symbolize the ever-changing nature of human experiences—joy, sorrow, love, and longing. Its radiant glow acts as a mirror, reflecting the depth and complexity of our inner emotional landscapes.
Deep Moon Quote 5: "Like the moon, we have hidden sides that deserve to be embraced."
Deep Moon Quote 6: "Just as the moon influences tides, it also stirs the tides of our emotions."
Unveiling the Secrets of the Moon's Surface
Exploring the moon's surface unveils a rugged and desolate landscape, adorned with countless craters and scars. Each crater tells a story of cosmic collisions and the resilience of celestial bodies. These lunar markings become symbols of strength and remind us that even in the face of adversity, beauty can emerge.
Deep Moon Quote 7: "The moon's craters symbolize resilience amidst life's scars."
Deep Moon Quote 8: "The moon's craters are the footprints of countless cosmic stories."
The Moon's Spiritual Significance
Paragraph: The moon holds profound spiritual significance across cultures and religions. It serves as a celestial guide, inviting us to connect with the divine and explore the mysteries of the universe. The moon's serene radiance transcends earthly boundaries, uniting humanity under a shared celestial canvas.
Deep Moon Quote 9: "Beneath the moon's gentle light, we find solace and healing."
Deep Moon Quote 10: "The moon's celestial dance reminds us of the interconnectedness of the universe."
The deep moon quotes explored above take us on a poetic journey into the heart of the moon's profound symbolism. From its mystical aura to its role in self-reflection, emotional tides, lunar landscapes, and spiritual significance, the moon continues to inspire and captivate us. As we gaze upon the moon's serene visage, we are reminded of the vastness of the cosmos and our own place within it. The moon's beauty is not merely a celestial spectacle but a reflection of our own inner worlds, inviting us to explore the depths of our emotions, contemplate the mysteries of existence, and embrace the resilience that lies within us.
Whether we find solace in the moon's tranquil presence, draw inspiration from its ethereal glow, or embark on a journey of self-discovery beneath its watchful gaze, the moon holds a profound significance in our lives. It is a symbol of transformation, reminding us of the constant change that shapes our journey and urging us to embrace the unknown with courage and curiosity.
The moon's impact extends beyond its physical presence in the night sky. It resonates deeply with our emotions, aligning with the ebb and flow of our feelings. Just as the moon influences the tides, it stirs the tides of our own emotions, reminding us of the interconnectedness of all things and the ever-changing nature of our inner landscapes.
Exploring the moon's surface reveals a rugged terrain marked by craters and scars. Each crater tells a story of resilience and adaptation, reminding us that even in the face of challenges, there is beauty to be found. The moon's desolate landscapes become a canvas for our imagination, a reminder of the vastness of the universe and the limitless possibilities that lie within us.
The moon's spiritual significance is woven into the fabric of human history and culture. It has been revered as a celestial guide, a source of wisdom, and a symbol of enlightenment. Under the moon's gentle light, we find solace and healing, connecting with something greater than ourselves and experiencing a profound sense of unity with the cosmos.
In conclusion, the deep moon quotes shared throughout this article invite us to embark on a journey of exploration, reflection, and self-discovery. The moon's enigmatic beauty, its emotional resonance, its rugged landscapes, and its spiritual significance all remind us of the profound interconnectedness of the universe and our place within it. As we contemplate the deep moon, may we be inspired to embrace the depths of our own being, to navigate the ever-changing tides of life with grace, and to find solace, inspiration, and inner strength in the moon's serene presence.
>> 500+ HD Quotes For Instagram <<
>> Quotes Metal Poster Wall Decor <<
#quotes#deep moon quotes#inspirational quotes#inspiring quotes#positive quotes#life quotes#frases#motivational quotes#motivating quotes#short quotes#ao3#cute#good morning quotes#quote#fotos#instagram#desenhos#status#love quote tumblr#artists on tumblr#love quote for him#love quote for her#nature#moon quotes
48 notes
·
View notes
Text
For now, however, the Ta-383s seemed to be doing just what Hall though they would. For a few perilous seconds, they careened towards the border in direct collision with Hall and his wingman. Their collision course then gradually turned into a long, graceful right-hand turn, with all four fighters maintaining the irregular wedge formation the Germans called a 'schwarm' as their coursed morphed into one flying northward, directly parallel with Hall's CAP on the German side of the border.
And then there they were; two American fighters and four German ones flying within eyesight of one another on either side of an international border in the middle of a Cold War crisis.
-
Finally getting around to doing some actual stories in my Black Sun universe (working my way up to some bigger projects in the works).
You can go read the story, "Sunset Showdown", over on AO3 or on FA.
#KD's Art#KD's Writing#Black Sun#worldbuilding#alternate_history#alt_history#alternate_universe#alt_universe#AU#alternate_timeline#alt_timeline#furries#furry#furry story#furry writing
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
choi seungcheol
☾*‧₊ timestamp: (in)visible
๑彡 synopsis ┊ it’s 3:51 pm when seungcheol warns you to not fall in love with him.
๑彡 genre ┊ best friend!au
〔052022〕
⋆
☾*‧₊ even a fool knows
๑彡 synopsis ┊ seungcheol captures people’s hearts wherever he goes, but there’s really only one heart he dreams of capturing: yours.
๑彡 genre ┊ arranged marriage!au, unrequited love!au
〔052023〕
⋆
☾*‧₊ spaces between us
๑彡 synopsis ┊ you never want to cross paths with seungcheol again but, as it seems, the universe has other plans.
๑彡 genre ┊ secret baby!au, post-break up!au
〔2018, 072023〕
yoon jeonghan
☾*‧₊ we both know i loved you more
๑彡 synopsis ┊ while you love selfishly, yoon jeonghan loves selflessly — and now he’s suffering the consequences.
๑彡 genre ┊ unrequited love!au, rebound relationship!au, post-break up!au
〔062022〕
⋆
☾*‧₊ timestamp: photograph
๑彡 synopsis ┊ it’s 12:51 pm when jeonghan finally sees the scrapbook you made for him.
๑彡 genre ┊ slice of life!au
〔062023〕
hong jisoo
☾*‧₊ timestamp: never not
๑彡 synopsis ┊ it’s 9:14 pm when jisoo finally stops denying.
๑彡 genre ┊ demigod!au, greek mythology-inspired!au, percy jackson-inspired!au
〔102022〕
⋆
☾*‧₊ in the dark: dusk | dawn
๑༄ overview ┊ you ask the moon for two favors: one out of selfishness and another out of love.
๑彡 genre ┊ strangers-to-lovers!au, arranged marriage!au
〔082023〕
wen junhui
☾*‧₊ farewell letter: winter’s truth
๑彡 synopsis ┊ you left junhui a letter with everything you couldn’t say.
๑彡 genre ┊ musician!au, your lie in april-inspired!au
〔012019, 072021〕
kwon soonyoung
☾*‧₊ timestamp: constant
๑彡 synopsis ┊ it’s 6:27 pm when you miss your last chance to let soonyoung go.
๑彡 genre ┊ best friend!au, unrequited love!au
〔092021〕
jeon wonwoo
☾*‧₊ timestamp: encumber
๑彡 synopsis ┊ it’s 7:31 pm when wonwoo offers to set you free.
๑彡 genre ┊ royal!au, marriage proposal!au, moon lovers: scarlet heart ryeo-inspired!au
〔012021〕
⋆
☾*‧₊ selene’s concerto
◎༄ overview ┊ an eclipse sent you back to the present of your ancestors: straight to the clutches of the royal princes and those that want the throne for themselves. will you survive?
◎༄ genre ┊ time travel!au, royal!au, moon lovers: scarlet heart ryeo-inspired!au
〔092021 -〕
⋆
☾*‧₊ timestamp: inverse
๑彡 synopsis ┊ it’s 6:36 am when you let wonwoo go.
๑彡 genre ┊ royal!au, greek mythology-inspired!au
〔112023〕
lee jihoon
☾*‧₊ farewell letter: journey to the past
๑彡 synopsis ┊ fate brings you and jihoon together for a last journey before you become strangers once more.
๑彡 genre ┊ post-break up!au
〔052020〕
⋆
☾*‧₊ until the end of time
๑彡 synopsis ┊ like the hands on the clock, the story of jihoon and [first name] will go back to the start.
๑彡 genre ┊ reincarnation!au, see you in my 19th life-inspired!au
〔122022〕
lee seokmin
☾*‧₊ say the word
๑彡 synopsis ┊ your exhaustion (and sudden crush on a certain bartender) somehow led you to your soulmate.
๑彡 genre ┊ soulmate!au, bartender!au
〔052022〕
⋆
☾*‧₊ timestamp: rain
๑彡 synopsis ┊ it’s 10:45 pm when seokmin watches you leave.
๑彡 genre ┊ slice of life!au
〔082023〕
kim mingyu
☾*‧₊ all roads lead to you: diversion | collision
๑༄ overview ┊ you tried going against fate because you thought mingyu deserved someone better.
๑༄ genre ┊ soulmate!au, idol!au
〔062020〕
⋆
☾*‧₊ timestamp: dive
๑彡 synopsis ┊ it’s 9:16 am when a stranger offers to hold your hand.
๑彡 genre ┊ slice of life!au, stranger!au
〔122022〕
⋆
☾*‧₊ my future in your eyes
๑彡 synopsis ┊ mingyu still holds onto you, even after all this time.
๑彡 genre ┊ divorced!au/ex-husband!au, post-break up!au, exes-to-lovers!au
〔022024〕
⋆
☾*‧₊ forever by my side
๑彡 synopsis ┊ mingyu still honors the love signified by his ring, even after all this time.
๑彡 genre ┊ divorced!au/ex-husband!au, post-break up!au
〔022024〕
xu minghao
☾*‧₊ private entry: out of billions | one of billions
๑༄ overview ┊ you and minghao are just like raindrops in each other’s lives.
๑༄ genre ┊ slice of life!au, stranger!au
〔112020〕
⋆
☾*‧₊ timestamp: parallel
๑彡 synopsis ┊ it’s 8:10 pm when you beg minghao to love you.
๑彡 genre ┊ arranged marriage!au
〔052022〕
boo seungkwan
☾*‧₊ timestamp: infatuation
๑彡 synopsis ┊ it’s 3:24 pm when you confess your feelings to seungkwan.
๑彡 genre ┊ slice of life!au, graduation!au
〔102022〕
chwe hansol
☾*‧₊ timestamp: cur(r)ent
๑彡 synopsis ┊ it’s 11:12 am when the flow leads you back to hansol.
๑彡 genre ┊ post-break up!au
〔022022〕
lee chan
☾*‧₊ timestamp: fated
๑彡 synopsis ┊ it’s 8:35 pm when chan asks you about your soulmate.
๑彡 genre ┊ unrequited love!au
〔062022〕
#third satellite#seventeen#seventeen x reader#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#seventeen oneshots#seventeen fanfics
117 notes
·
View notes
Text
Warning: Major injuries, a few scares and all around chaos. Also most likely inaccurate medical advice/information. If any of this makes you uncomfortable I highly encourage y'all to check out my other works.
Boredom, it was something that Michelangelo was extremely familiar with. Despite having three older brothers who he could mess around with or training in the dojo with his father or going to his room with all of his comic books and toys, there were still moments where the young turtle would get bored. And when boredom hit Michelangelo was a force to be reckoned with. Which is how he'd started on the current mission that he was starting. The young five year old turtle toddler had decided to start climbing things to see how high he could get before he'd have to climb back down. So far he'd managed to climb onto a chair in the kitchen by himself, managed to climb on the walkway rails that sat at one of the entrances of his home, and managed to nearly get to the kitchen counter before Raphael had came in and nearly scared him half to death and unknowingly deterring him from trying it out.
After that moment Michelangelo practically ran out of the kitchen leaving a confused older brother behind within it. The small orange clad turtle had ran as quickly and quietly as he could before he was sure that Raphael wasn't going to follow him and question him about him being in the kitchen. After somewhat hiding out in the pit area in the living room and not hearing his red clad brother coming after him for at least twenty minutes the youngest turtle finally relaxed and came out of his hiding place completely bummed out.
'Now I'll never know if I can climb up the kitchen counter....'
The turtle thought feeling a bit frustrated as he walked out of the familiar living room. Michelangelo glared a bit at the ground, annoyed that he was going to be bored again. As he glared at the ground he thought about what he should do next before an idea hit him.
'Maybe Donnie will do something with me.'
The turtle thought brightening up at the thought of his older brother hanging out with him. As Michelangelo ran to get to his brother's bedroom to see if he'd come and play with him the orange turtle stopped suddenly when he caught sight of the dojo and its opened doors. Curious the little turtle changed his course of action and made his way cautiously towards the dojo. Bright blue eyes peered in through the doors, expecting to see his father meditating within as he usually did. However to his surprise, his tall rodent Sensei was no where to be seen. All that greeted him was the familiar tatsumi mats and weapons that decorated the walls and the small shrine of Tang Shen and Miwa that sat within the corner. Michelangelo felt his curiosity grow and without thinking too much about it stepped inside the dojo.
'Wonder where papa went....?'
Michelangelo mused somewhat searching for the familiar figure in the dark red robes and familiar face of whites, browns and blacks. When he didn't see him the child somewhat slumped a bit before his gaze finally landed on a familiar sight. Sitting within the middle of the dojo was the family tree. The large tree stood amongst the room, its branches overhanging and filled with bright green leaves. It was tall and had been there for all of Michelangelo's life, and it was a well loved and taken care of tree that his Sensei Master Splinter took great pride in. As the young child looked at the large tree a sudden idea hit him, completely kicking his original idea of seeking out Donatello to the curb.
'What if I climbed the tree....?'
Michelangelo thought suddenly excited and giddy as the urge from earlier to try and climb things from earlier came back full force. The small turtle didn't even hesitate, instead making his way towards the large tree and its dark trunk to try and climb it. Gripping the bark and getting a good holding on it the youngest Hamato son began to climb up the large and sturdy tree, enjoying the thrill he'd received from doing so. He'd never been allowed on the tree, Master Splinter was very adamant about it and got very upset whenever he'd catch one of the boys trying to climb up it. He never knew why his father was so against it, seeing as how he was having the time of his life.
"This is so cool-!"
Michelangelo breathed climbing higher and higher until he'd finally reached the tree branches that hung over the dojo. Hoisting himself onto it Michelangelo perched himself onto it, relishing in the ecstatic feeling of actually accomplishing it. With a beaming grin on his freckled cheeks the little turtle sat on the branch for a few moments just basking in the feeling of pride and boyish excitement. After having his fill Michelangelo went to start his dissent down the tree when he finally took in just exactly how high he really was. Eyes going wide Michelangelo suddenly stiffened as he looked downwards towards the ground which now seemed like it was miles above the ground. A sudden feeling of fear hit him as he froze, and he couldn't move instead gripping the branch with his three fingered hands. However as he went to move himself to get a better grip he stumbled slightly causing his body to go forward. Michelangelo let out a startled shriek and he grabbed the branch to steady himself, his heart racing a mile a minute.
"H-help...! Someone help me-! Sensei....! Papa-! Raphie-! Donnie-! Anyone-!"
Michelangelo began to say his voice growing a bit hysterical as he struggled to keep himself on the tree branch. The once fun adventure and thrill of breaking his Sensei's wishes was now a terrifying experience to the five year old and he wanted more than anything to get down. Big large tears started to fill his eyes as he trembled with fear. He just wanted to get down, he didn't want to die, he wanted to get out of this tree and be on the ground again. As he broke down in his terror he failed to notice the person entering the dojo at that moment.
"Mikey?!? What are you doing?!?"
A voice childish and horrified came from below. Michelangelo's teary baby blues snapped towards the ground and were met with wide and scared dark blue ones.
"L-Leo....."
Michelangelo whimpered as he gripped the tree branch, relief hitting him as he saw his older brother Leonardo. The oldest Hamato son had already made his way towards the tree looking all in the world spooked as he stopped at the tree trunk.
"Mikey-! Are you okay-??"
Leonardo asked frantically as he took in the terrified and teary eyed gaze of his little brother. Michelangelo shook his head finally bursting into tears as he held onto the branch for dear life.
"N-no-! I'm not okay...! L-Leo I....I can't get down-!"
The younger turtle sobbed out as the older turtle stared at him in shock and fear. But just as quickly as the look appeared a new look came onto the other five year old's face. A look that he'd unknowingly have with him for the rest of his life.
A look of older brother determination.
"It's okay Mikey, I'm here. Everything's gonna be okay I promise. I'm gonna come and get you just don't move."
Leonardo said his small face scrunched up in a fiery determination as he began to climb up the tree himself, wanting nothing more than to get his little brother down and safe onto the ground. Michelangelo's eyes went wide as he watched his big brother, the brother who followed the rules and never disobeyed Master Splinter's wishes, completely disregard them as he too climbed up. Before Michelangelo knew it Leonardo was already on the branch, his gaze focused solely on Michelangelo. The oldest Hamato son carefully moved closer towards the youngest Hamato son, reaching his hand out towards him.
"It's okay Mikey I'm right here, just take my hand and we'll get down safely."
Leonardo said his voice soft and calm. Michelangelo shook his head trembling.
"I-I can't-! What if I fall-?!"
Michelangelo began to say before Leonardo interrupted him.
"You're not going to fall. I won't let you fall, I'll never let you fall Mikey. You'll be okay I promise. Trust me."
Leonardo said his voice strong and serious for one so young. Michelangelo stared at him, his trembling calming down somewhat as he looked at his big brother. The orange turtle had no idea why but for some reason he knew deep down that Leonardo would never let him fall. With that reassurance Michelangelo finally gave a shaky nod, his tears and sniffles slowly down.
"O-Okay....."
Michelangelo said his voice small and scared but trusting as he began to slowly reach out to meet Leonardo's out stretched hand. The youngest turtle had just managed to grab onto Leonardo's hand when the sound of a loud cracking filled the dojo. Everything moved in slow motion for Michelangelo as he felt himself begin to fall, the branch having broken underneath him. His heart froze as he fell, horrifically enough dragging Leonardo with him. The youngest Hamato son let out a scream of terror as he and the oldest Hamato son went free falling. Michelangelo closed his eyes not wanting to see him and his older brother hit the ground and die. However his eyes snapped open when he felt Leonardo yank him into his chest plate harshly, his hands coming up to shield Michelangelo from harm as he flipped them over while they fell, putting himself beneath his little brother. Michelangelo couldn't even process what had happened before they both landed onto the dojo floor harshly, the orange clad turtle landing on top of his blue clad brother who had taken the harsh impact of their free fall. The sound of a sickening crack, like a brittle branch snapping in half filled the dojo, along with a shell slamming into the floor and another shell.
Michelangelo panted the adrenaline high as he pushed himself up realizing that he hadn't even touched the ground. No the one who had touched the ground and taken the blunt force of his body landing on him was Leonardo. The blue clad eldest child held his little brother tightly within his arms, though now that Michelangelo was able to see one of his brother's arms was bent at an awkward angle, and already bruising. Leonardo's eyes were closed and his jaw was tight as if he was in pain. A feeling of dread hit Michelangelo as he realized what Leonardo had done and he'd paid for it. Practically going hysterical again Michelangelo scrambled off of Leonardo being careful not to move the arm that was hurt. Tears filled his vision once more as he gently shook Leonardo's uninjured shoulder.
"Leo.....Leo.....! Leo please get up.....! L-Leo.........."
Michelangelo said his voice cracking as he didn't get a response from his unconscious and injured older brother. The child's thoughts raced within his mind making his panic grow.
He'd kept his promise.
He didn't let you fall.
He should be okay so why wasn't he waking up??
Was.....was he......?
Michelangelo swallowed the hysteria finally hitting its peak and he did the only thing that his five year old mind could think of.
He screamed.
~~~~~
Master Splinter had just gotten back from checking the surrounding areas of the lair, making sure that no one had gotten too close when the sudden sound of a blood curdling scream reached his sensitive ears.
"PAPA-!!!!!"
A voice full of terror and fear and tears filled the lair, a voice belonging to his beloved youngest son Michelangelo. A sudden feeling of cold dread filled his heart at the scream having never heard such a terrified sound coming from his baby boy. Is was a sound that should have never been made.
Not while he was alive and breathing.
Splinter didn't even think, he only moved fueled by pure parental instinct and the desperate need to see if his sons, his babies were safe. He raced towards the direction of where he'd heard Michelangelo's blood curdling scream, to the dojo, noticing that already rushing into the same room was Raphael and Donatello. His two sons had the most terrified looks on their faces, looks that should never be there in the first place. The two five year olds saw their father rushing towards them their eyes filled with childish fear.
"Father-! What's wrong why is Mikey screaming-???"
Donatello asked as the large rat followed closely by his sons rushed towards the dojo.
"Father I can't find Leo-!!"
Raphael spoke up an uncharacteristic tone of fear appearing in it. Splinter didn't answer them only focused on getting to the dojo. Finally after what felt like an eternity Splinter and his sons finally entered the dojo and the sight that greeted them chilled Splinter down to his very bones. Sitting on the ground sobbing and gripping his brother was Michelangelo. The youngest son was hysterically crying, clinging desperately to his brother as he sobbed. The brother being gripped in question was none other than Leonardo. His eldest son was laying on the ground unnaturally still, his right arm bent in an unnatural manner, purple colored and swollen and obviously broken. His eyes were closed and other than his jaw being flat in a line of pain he didn't move, not when Michelangelo pleaded with him to answer him, not when he was being shaken. He remained completely and utterly still almost as if........
Splinter felt something within him break, the air in his lungs being stolen as he rushed forwards, hearing Donatello's horrified gasp and Raphael's terrified cry of Leonardo's name coming from behind him. He felt like he was running through molasses, as he ran to his two children's sides.
'Please....please if there's a god or deity listening out there please don't let my son be......! I can't lose him, I can't lose another child-! Not after Miwa, not after Tang Shen-! I wouldn't be able to bare it-!'
He pleaded praying to anyone listening to him as he finally made it to Michelangelo and Leonardo's sides. The orange turtle's head snapped up seeing his father and he burst into tears again his words rushed and barely understandable.
"Papa-! It's all my fault I shouldn't have climbed the tree-! And.....and now Leo's-!"
Michelangelo sobbed out as Splinter checked Leonardo over. The large rat about collapsed with relief as he felt the familiar heartbeat of his eldest son, pumping strong and clearly.
"Father is......is Leo.....?"
Donatello asked from behind him, his voice small and trembling as if he was barely keeping it together. Splinter turned to his other two children and saw the fearful looks on their faces. Forcing himself to remain calm and strong Splinter spoke.
"Leonardo is fine, he's just unconscious. But he needs medical attention immediately. His arm is broken and I need to set it before it heals wrong."
Splinter said already taking charge of the situation. Staring at his three shaken sons he set them to work, knowing that the distraction would help.
"Donatello I'll need you to get me the first aid kit and to clear off the bed in the spare room. Can you do that for me?"
Splinter asked making his purple clad child snap his wide and spooked reddish brown gaze to him.
"H-Hai father I'll get right on it!"
Donatello said the five year old already running out of the dojo to complete his tasks given to him. Splinter then turned to Raphael who was shaking slightly and barely keeping himself together.
"Raphael I need you to get me some splints and some ice for your brother's arm to help bring the swelling down. Can you complete this task?"
Splinter asked keeping a close eye on his second eldest son. Raphael's bright green eyes snapped up to his father, a whirlwind of emotions flying around in them. His son didn't answer instead just nodding before taking one last look at Leonardo and Michelangelo and then heading out to do his tasks. Splinter took a deep breath relieved that Raphael was listening to him, already knowing how fiercely protective his red clad five year old was. Finally he turned his attention to his sobbing youngest and placed a gentle hand on his shell to help calm him down.
"Breathe my son, Leonardo is alright. I need you to explain to me exactly what happened and how he'd broken his arm."
Splinter said his voice calm yet stern as he looked at his youngest. Michelangelo gave a small hiccupping whimper before nodding already calming down with his father's presence there. Satisfied with this, Splinter gently picked up Leonardo from the floor careful not to jostle his broken arm, and then with his other arm he picked up Michelangelo before carrying his two babies out of the dojo and into the spare room.
~~~~~
Michelangelo Hamato sat on couch staring at his hands in a shocked stupor. After Master Splinter had came home and had taken Leonardo into the spare room to fix him up, everything became a blur to him. All Michelangelo could think about was the way Leonardo had held him when they'd fallen and how he'd taken the brunt of it. It scared him, having Leonardo do such a thing and he'd told Master Splinter just as much when the large rat mutant finally asked him what had happened. Michelangelo had told him everything from his climbing in the kitchen to the climbing of the tree in the dojo. He told him about how Leonardo had saved him, crying brokenly as he recalled the promise that Leonardo said. Master Splinter listened quietly, his aura full of disappointment and yet soothing. After the youngest Hamato son told his story Master Splinter took a deep breath rubbing his eyes in an exhausted way.
"Michelangelo, I'm very disappointed in you and your choices. I had told you as well as your brothers many times to not climb the tree in the dojo. Yet you disobeyed me and as a result Leonardo was hurt."
Master Splinter said his voice stern and soft, full of the anger of a father and the disappointment that he felt for his son's choices. Michelangelo sniffled wiping his puffy eyes to stop his tears.
"I-I know Sensei I.....I should have listened and.....and now Leo's hurt....! I.....I didn't want him to get hurt....! I'm sorry Papa......!"
Michelangelo said his voice trembling and full of regret and sorrow. Splinter's gaze softened at hearing his son's regret and with a gentle yet firm hand he pulled his son close to him and hugged him.
"I know that you didn't mean for your brother to get hurt. My son you must understand that choices have consequences. And depending on the choices those consequences can be more than we're willing to pay. I want you to learn from this and use this experience to teach you to think before you act. Do you understand my son?"
Master Splinter asked his tone soft. Michelangelo nodded hugging his father tightly as be buried his head into his chest. As the father and son hugged one another Donatello and Raphael who had been eavesdropping gave each other a small look. The two were extremely upset by what had happened, and they never wanted something like that to happen ever again. Seeing Leonardo on the dojo floor like that had scared Donatello and Raphael. Donatello when he'd seen the scene had never felt so useless in his entire life. The purple clad turtle had wanted to help his father out in helping Leonardo out so badly, but he had no clue what to do. So Donatello could only watch the whole thing, powerless to help his big brother and to help Michelangelo who was falling apart the entire time. Raphael on the other hand.....seeing his big brother, his best friend on the ground like that had completely ruined him. Raphael at that moment felt like he'd failed when he'd seen the scene, when he'd seen Michelangelo crying and Leonardo hurt and unconscious. It angered the red clad turtle, who wanted nothing more than to protect his brothers, to be completely useless in doing so. Raphael hadn't been there to keep them safe and as a result Leonardo was hurt. The two turtles felt angry and scared and full of guilt at having been unable to help when their brothers needed them the most. As the red and purple turtles stewed over this the sound of their master's voice snapped them out of it.
"Raphael. Donatello, why don't you come and join us?"
Master Splinter said his voice full of knowing. Raphael and Donatello exchanged startled looks and embarrassingly made their way towards their father and little brother. Master Splinter took in the sight of his two other children and opened his arms inviting them into the hug. Raphael and Donatello didn't hesitate to launch themselves into their father's arms, clinging to him and Michelangelo tightly, sniffling a bit themselves.
"Is.....is Leo going to be okay Sensei.....?"
Donatello asked his voice small. Master Splinter gave him a small squeeze of reassurance.
"Yes my son, your brother will be alright. Other than being sore with his arm, Leonardo will heal up in no time."
Master Splinter said his voice soothing and confident. Donatello relaxed at this knowledge trusting his father's words. Raphael just clung to his father obviously distressed.
"Is there anything we can do to help Leo?"
Raphael asked his childish voice full of frustration. Master Splinter gave his other son an understanding look and squeezed him too.
"The best thing to help your brother is to let him rest and to keep an eye on him my son."
The rat explained knowing how hard it was to not be able to really do much. Raphael seemed to begrudgingly accept this, obviously not happy with the answer. The four mutants remained within their embrace for a moment or two before Splinter finally let them go with the intention of making them dinner. Once their father was gone and in the kitchen the three brothers looked at one another quietly and in silent agreement they made their way towards Leonardo's bedroom. Three tiny toddlers quietly made their way towards their older brother's bedroom, opening the door and slipping inside it. Once all three of them were safely inside they made their way to their sleeping big brother's side and carefully began to climb into bed with him. With delicate movements they avoided moving his broken arm which was now in a makeshift sling and snuggled into the large bed, all of them desperately wanting to be close to their older brother. Once they were settled in the three turtles one by one began to drift off into a light sleep.
~~~~~
Leonardo woke up to feeling incredibly warm and incredibly sore. The oldest turtle slowly blinked and saw his arm in the sling, the events of the dojo coming back in a hazy manner.
'Oh that's right......me and Mikey fell out of the tree in the dojo......'
Leonardo thought going to sit up when he finally noticed the three bodies surrounding him. Fast asleep and snuggled close to him was Raphael, Donatello and Michelangelo. Leonardo felt himself grow warm with happiness and went to settle back in when he caught sight of Michelangelo moving slightly.
"Mikey...? Are you okay?"
Leonardo asked his voice a whisper just in case Michelangelo was asleep. The orange clad turtle turned to look up at Leonardo, his baby blues shimmering with guilt.
"I'm......I'm okay.......I just.......Leo I'm so sorry it's all my fault that you got hurt....."
Michelangelo whispered his guilt and sorrow leaking through. Leonardo felt his heart break at the tone and with his good arm gently patted Michelangelo's head soothingly.
"Mikey, you don't have to apologize. You didn't know what was going to happen and neither did I. All that matters is that we're okay. So please don't beat yourself up over this little brother."
Leonardo said his tone sincere as he gave Michelangelo a tired but small smile. Michelangelo gave his older brother a small look, snuggling closer to him and Leonardo let him knowing that Michelangelo needed it. The two didn't say anything else, instead drifting back to sleep knowing that the other was okay and that all was forgiven even if it wasn't spoken out loud. As the youngest turtle fell asleep he couldn't help but make himself a promise.
'I'll keep you safe big bro, just like how you do to me, I'll always be there.'
And with that Michelangelo fell asleep surrounded by the warmth of his big brothers.
*I don't know what this is I guess it's a little side story???? Like as I was writing this I was thinking like A Universal Collision type of universe but like before stories???? Does that make sense?? Anyways it can also be a stand alone, I just wanted to have some Leo and Mikey stuff don't mind me too much lol, might make one involving the Rise boys idk we'll see. Sorry if this sucks y'all. Anyways if any y'all read this I hope you enjoyed it!!!*
#my writing#ooc probably sorry#anyways enjoy i guess#i tried my best y'all shshdhdhfh#teenage mutant ninja turtles#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rise of the tmnt#tmnt#rottmnt#tmnt 2012#tmnt 2k12#teenage mutant ninja turtles 2012#tmnt leo#tmnt mikey#tmnt raph#tmnt donnie#tmnt splinter#turtle tots#a universal collision side story#can be read as a standalone though#this probably sucks dick and i apologize in advance for this lol#i don't know if I'll continue this we'll see
61 notes
·
View notes
Text
High School Lit Tournament Side C
Of Mice and Men: They are an unlikely pair: George is "small and quick and dark of face"; Lennie, a man of tremendous size, has the mind of a young child. Yet they have formed a "family," clinging together in the face of loneliness and alienation. Laborers in California's dusty vegetable fields, they hustle work when they can, living a hand-to-mouth existence. But George and Lennie have a plan: to own an acre of land and a shack they can call their own. While the powerlessness of the laboring class is a recurring theme in Steinbeck's work of the late 1930s, he narrowed his focus when composing��Of Mice and Men, creating an intimate portrait of two men facing a world marked by petty tyranny, misunderstanding, jealousy, and callousness. But though the scope is narrow, the theme is universal: a friendship and a shared dream that makes an individual's existence meaningful.
The Grapes of Wrath: First published in 1939, Steinbeck’s Pulitzer Prize-winning epic of the Great Depression chronicles the Dust Bowl migration of the 1930s and tells the story of one Oklahoma farm family, the Joads—driven from their homestead and forced to travel west to the promised land of California. Out of their trials and their repeated collisions against the hard realities of an America divided into Haves and Have-Nots evolves a drama that is intensely human yet majestic in its scale and moral vision, elemental yet plainspoken, tragic but ultimately stirring in its human dignity. A portrait of the conflict between the powerful and the powerless, of one man’s fierce reaction to injustice, and of one woman’s stoical strength, the novel captures the horrors of the Great Depression and probes into the very nature of equality and justice in America. At once a naturalistic epic, captivity narrative, road novel, and transcendental gospel, Steinbeck’s powerful landmark novel is perhaps the most American of American Classics.
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dynamic Dauphin Island
A fringe of barrier islands runs parallel to the coast of Mississippi and Alabama, protecting the mainland from the pounding waves of the Gulf of Mexico. The easternmost of these islands, Dauphin Island, is a 14-mile-long landmass that guards the mouth of Mobile Bay, Alabama. It serves as a stopping place for migratory birds and frequently changes shape.
Barrier islands are constantly evolving. Their beaches and spits get shifted, built up, and torn down by the natural ebb and flow of currents and tides. In 2005, powerful storm surge from Hurricane Katrina cut a hole through the western side of Dauphin Island. A 2023 image of the island (above-right), acquired with the OLI-2 (Operational Land Imager-2) on Landsat 9, shows a sandy peninsula extending into the Gulf from the eastern part of the landmass. This peninsula did not exist 20 years ago.
“We could call it the peninsula-formerly-known-as-Pelican-Island, but I think Pelican Peninsula sounds better,” said Scott Douglass, a coastal engineer and emeritus professor at the University of South Alabama. Although Pelican Island has moved around for centuries in the same general location, in 2008, the island moved so far north that it welded onto Dauphin Island.
The joining of these two islands was no surprise to Douglass. In 1994, Douglass documented tidal currents pushing the sand of Pelican Island northwest, onto the western beaches of Dauphin Island, and he projected that the two islands would likely merge in the next decade or two.
Barrier islands in this region have crashed into Dauphin Island before. Douglass studied maps and charts dating back to the early 18th century, which show small barrier islands have collided with Dauphin Island twice in the past: in the early 1700s and again in 1852. Douglass hypothesizes that this kind of collision occurs at roughly 150-year intervals. As sediment builds up on the sandy shoals offshore in the Gulf of Mexico, a new island eventually forms and gets pushed north until it joins the larger Dauphin Island.
“This is geology happening right before our very eyes,” Douglass said after reviewing the satellite images. “And because this phenomenon is so rare, it’s something that your grandparents probably didn’t see, but maybe your great grandparents.”
The joining of these two barrier islands has replenished sand on Dauphin Island’s beaches, which have been receding in recent years from erosion. According to Douglass, who has been helping to inform and assess projects aimed at protecting the island, the merger has essentially been a natural form of beach nourishment.
NASA Earth Observatory images by Lauren Dauphin, using Landsat data from the U.S. Geological Survey. Story by Emily Cassidy.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Random-Mailbox's Favorite Sailor Moon Fics - Week 18 - High School AU
This post’s theme was suggested by the wonderful @lilliebellfanfics (check out her works on AO3 and FFN (links to her profiles are in platform names) since they do not fully overlap and trust me, you don’t want to miss them!). She just started posting her Dendy AU shorts too, so definitely worth a look.
High School AU, from @floraone ’s matrix (here is the post with it for reference), is a fun way to explore the dynamics between Mamoru and Usagi in a more age appropriate setting for Anime based stories and more in line with Manga characterizations.
As always, my apologies in advance for spoiling some of these for you (Fic Titles are linked to either FFN or AO3 entries).
Wool you love me already? – @midnightdrops
The story set in an AU where Mamoru and Usagi are great friends and classmates right from the start. It starts with Usagi telling Mamoru that she would like to confess to someone she likes in their class, which is why she cannot tell him who it is. She even enlists his help in making sure the confession goes to plan. The catch? Mamoru is the one she will be confessing to.
(side note: make sure you are logged into your AO3 account to access this story, it has been locked down with all the scraping and reposting on other platforms without writers' consent)
Box of Chocolates - Chapter 3: Day 6: Alternate Universe – @kasienda
Instead of Mamoru springing going to Harvard on Usagi and just leaving, in this story he comes up with an alternate plan – he suggests Usagi joins him in the US and attends a high school near his campus, so he doesn’t have to be away from her for as long. Her parents agree to their plan as long as their conditions are met – Usagi passes all her classes for the fall semester AND gets good scores on her TOEFL exam to prove to them that she is ready.
Time After Time – @idesofnovember
In this almost sickeningly sweet multichapter, Usagi transfers to a new school part way through the school year to get better guidance in her Arts pursuits, and is introduced to the school president on her first day. He is someone she has known when she was little and was one of her best friends, however, she lost touch with him. But does he remember her and promises they had made?
Graduation - @celticreeder
When even Andrew bails on attending Darien’s graduation, Serena makes sure that the day is a special one for him, attending the ceremony and inviting him over for a celebratory dinner with her family. But what happens when Darien has to go abroad to study?
Our Secret Notebook - luna-magic-2005
Mamoru was headed to the roof to brood in peace, when he gets armful of Usagi, rushing to their art class. While quickly picking up books she dropped in their collision, she forgot her notebook. Having read it, Mamoru starts leaving notes for her inside it, passing it back-and-forth.
The Longest Trip Ever - Serenity-hime
Usagi, the girls and Mamoru are all doing one week exchange to the US, relieved to get away from fighting Youmas. Except that's where Dark Kingdom chooses to strike next. Without knowing Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Mask's true identities, our duo must balance secrecy with trying to save everyone.
The Golden Boy of Juuban High - @uglygreenjacket
Student council president Mamoru and Usagi have been sneaking around for months, making out all over the school. Usagi getting sick finally makes Mamoru confront his feelings, but in true anime-centric fashion he royally screws up communicating them.
That's it for today! Next week's post will cover some "Slice of Life" stories for @lilliebellfanfics!
Here are the links to the previous Tumblr posts in these series to explore more amazing works based on different themes - make sure to check them out if you haven't had a chance! (Click on title name to go to the post) - I will keep updating the list every week as new posts come up:
Week 1 - Groundhog Day
Week 2 - Established Relationships
Week 3 - Sex Positivity
Week 4 - Unfinished Stories
Week 5 - Darker Stories
Week 6 - Potions 🧪
Week 7 - Reveals
Week 8 - 👻Halloween🎃
Week 9 - Wrong Perceptions
Week 10 - Non-Senshi AU
Week 11 - In-Progress Fics
Week 12 - Mutual Pining
Week 13 - Enemies to Lovers
Week 14 - Slow Burn
Week 15 - Christmas Part 1 - Ugly Christmas Sweaters and Santa!
Week 16 - Christmas Part 2
Week 17 - New Years
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
Wayfinder - Part 2
Part of The Syndicate AU Series
Mafia!Yuta x Street Racer!Y/N
A/N: Part 2! We finally meet Yuta! The next chapter will be the first part of Taeyong’s story, so stay tuned. Thank you guys for showing the first chapter so much love - it means the world to me! - Love, M
Tag list: @scuzmunkie (Let me know if you want to be added here!)
SERIES MASTERLIST
Despite the persistent curiosity whispering in your ear you managed to go the entire race without meeting a single one of the mafia members present. Judging by the way Jaemin was glued to your side before the race and how Jeno hovered during - Renjun's intention was to keep you separated from Taeyong and his three accomplices.
All you'd learned were the names to go with the faces. Taeyong, Mark, Johnny, and Jungwoo.
Half of the eight-strong inner circle.
Renjun must've wanted to get a solid read on their intentions before exposing his whole operation just in case the deal went sideways. An effort that you couldn't help thinking might be futile when dealing with organized crime at this level.
The inner circle's influence was cast over the entire city like a massive spider web - a system of strings connecting them with those that owed them their loyalty and those who owed them favors. All they needed to do was tug on the right thread. With an information superhighway that large they could very well know everything about everyone already.
Maybe you'd been very foolish to think you could be a part of the night life of this city without it bleeding into your quiet existence during the day. The collision of your two worlds was starting to look more and more inevitable.
Even with your mind full of distractions the race went exactly as planned.
You and Mina pulled off the win almost effortlessly. The only real competition was a driver from out of town in a monster of a car, but Mina's Mazda had no trouble overtaking it with the maneuvers you suggested while watching through the live feed from her dash camera.
Jaemin finished half a second behind her in his gorgeous Corvette Stingray - a ride you'd happily steal if you knew you could get away with it.
The Neos certainly got a good show.
You, on the other hand, had been bored completely out of your mind.
Of course you would always be grateful for the security that came from working with Renjun, but now how your driver performed in the races was being determined by someone else. Whether Mina placed first or last was all strategy to make money and keep the crowd happy.
Success no longer came from being the best - It came from following orders, and each victory felt more hollow because of it.
You chaffed against the lack of autonomy - missing when you clawed and reached for the finish line with every fiber of your being because it was what you wanted, even if it was only through giving guidance over radio.
Really acknowledging the change would have to wait, because Renjun needed you to be a unified front right now. There was no room for the doubts you were starting to feel.
Thankfully, the universe decided to throw another distraction at you.
After winning the race you received an invitation to the midnight gala the other half of Taeyong's inner circle must've been hosting while he attended the races.
Apparently the crime lords wanted the winning team to attend with Renjun, something about a show of good faith, but it was obvious they just already knew who in the organization was in cahoots with Jun when Jaemin secured an invite as well.
In a surprising and kind of disconcerting bit of foresight one of the men, Mark, had handed Mina two gowns in garment bags as he left at midnight.
It had taken half an hour for both you and Mina to hurriedly get dressed and throw yourselves into her car - still trailing behind the boys by quite a few minutes.
Why this party had to be on the same night was beyond you.
Now you were climbing the grand staircase alone while Mina parked her car, because she certainly wasn't going to trust the valet with her baby when she never even let you drive the thing.
Your anxious fingers smoothed out the fabric of the blue gown you'd instantly fallen in love with for it’s soft off the shoulder sleeves and gathered waist. It was probably the most beautiful item of clothing you'd ever worn, and definitely the most luxury judging by the high-end name on the label.
Secretly, you already hoped you'd get to keep it.
While passing through the crowd outside the hotel entrance the usual murmurs that followed your movements met your ears, and as you walked you caught snippets of your greatest moments being retold with awed reverence.
Your skills brought attention from around the world, attracting new challengers, and in Renjun's eyes there wasn’t much else he could ask for from his sponsored navigator.
To survive this party you needed to let the acknowledgment of your talent fuel you ego. Feeding their admiration and confidence into the darkness within you that reveled in notoriety, you collected all of your nerve and drew your false persona around you like a cloak - dressing yourself once more in the costume of the genius navigator.
A detailed ruse that allowed you to feel like more than you were.
Your fingers trailed your mask, finding comfort in the familiar contours. It was a delicate, sculpted work of silver – an upgrade from the simple cloth ones you’d worn back when you and Mina were on your own. Renjun had it made specifically for your first race on his personal line up.
Thus - the silver dragon had been born.
Someone confident, sensual, and completely unlike yourself.
Feeling centered again, your eyes swept the room from your new position in the entry hall. It was a massive space washed warm and golden in the glow from hanging chandeliers - the skylights above them showing just a hint of the night sky outside.
Mina caught up to you, but her greeting was cut short when she was frozen by intense eye contact with Taeyong, who had chosen a vantage point on one of the carved marble balconies overlooking the crowd. You had a vague memory of seeing him speaking to Mina before the race, and from the looks they were exchanging you could only guess where it was going.
Organized criminals do tend to stick together.
She sent you an apologetic glance that you waved away with a look that said 'go have fun', so she slipped into the fray to make her way to him. You trusted her to handle herself.
As you moved further into the space you still caught the occasional glance directed at your mask.
For the first time, you felt a bit uncomfortable behind the silver. Those gathered outside had heard of you, but to the elites in the ballroom you had no reputation – you weren’t “the silver dragon”. That larger than life person was easy to find in the dimly lit night, but in the warm glittering hall you felt small again.
Surprisingly, a smile crossed your face at the thought while you grabbed a drink from a passing waiter.
Another thing you hadn’t really admitted to yourself was that the secrecy and the act wasn’t as fun as it used to be. It was exhausting to heave up an iron front every evening to then tear it down again in the morning.
A tinge of sadness fell over your features right as you caught the gaze of a man across the crowd.
Except he was far different than the others.
He was maybe the most beautiful man you'd ever seen, and the connection between you crackled with a kind of electricity that stole your breath in a way you'd never felt before.
He held you attention with authority and blatant curiosity until a teasing smirk tilted up the corner of his mouth, shaping his expression into one of mischief. It reminded you that you were staring at a stranger, so you quickly turned away from the boy who you were certain was a member of the inner circle.
No one else could hold that kind of easy dominance in their eyes.
Embarrassed and flushed, you tilted you mask up just enough to down your entire flute of champagne, an expensive year no doubt, and began to walk a circle around the room. A majority of the guests were swirling gracefully on the dance floor to the Bach you recognized flowing from the live string quartet.
Then more people started to notice you.
The glances turned into stares, then staring turned into whispers hidden behind raised hands. Knowing they were talking about you made your hands shake when you set the empty glass on another waiter’s tray. Before you could convince yourself to turn around and leave - your thoughts were interrupted.
"Well, you're new." A voice rumbled behind you.
You turned to face who had approached you and recognized him immediately.
Up close you could drink in even more details.
His hair was a mane of warm chocolate brown, long enough for the curls to just brush his shoulders. Multiple piercings decorated his ears, and the relaxed way he wore his suit told you he had a much more devil-may-care attitude than the other polished, sharply dressed patrons. Several of his shirt's buttons were left undone revealing layered necklaces laying over smooth, bronzed skin that you tried not to let your eyes trail for too long.
Your first impression was correct. He was the most beautiful man you'd ever seen.
Dark eyes locked onto yours through the mask and you got the uncanny feeling he could see right through you - like any illusions about you shattered before him, so any words that could’ve escaped you caught in your throat.
"I would recognize someone I'd seen before behind a mask, but you I don't." He explained after your silence with a raised brow that told you he'd noticed your appraisal. "Do I get the honor of knowing your name?"
That smile sent your heart right into your throat. Captivated, your mouth opened almost unconsciously and you had to bite your lip to keep the syllables of your name from escaping. He'd said maybe two sentences and already your resolve for anonymity was crumbling alongside your false facade.
He didn’t seem to mind your hesitation and offered you his hand. "That's alright, you don’t have to tell me. Dance with me instead?"
The gentleness in his eyes kept you from refusing flat out, but it was the genuine, hopeful lift of his eyebrows that convinced you to step forward and place your hand in his. Familiar callouses, the ones that came from handling firearms, greeted you on his palms.
You looked up at him and your voice finally returned to you when the silence carried on too long to be comfortable.
"I would like that." A simple response. You were here after all, you might as well enjoy a dance with a dashing mafia scoundrel and sate just a touch of your determined curiosity to understand them.
His grin broadened at your voice. "Ah, she speaks at last."
You laughed thankfully at his ice breaking and followed his lead onto the dance floor. "Sorry, you took me by surprise that's all."
"I didn't mean to scare you." He stopped in an opening between the couples already dancing and when he turned back to face you the warmth in his eyes was magnetic. Wow. "My name’s Yuta."
The name suited him perfectly, and you tested it out in your mind - committing the shape and feel of it to memory. But still you clamped down on the impulse to say your own name despite everything inside you saying you could trust him.
Yet instead of pushing Yuta gracefully moved past the subject with tact. As a mafia elite you were sure he was used to forcing information out of people, but it seemed like with you there was an exception.
Yuta took a few steps closer, his gaze never wavering, and when you could just catch a faint whisper of his cologne he rested the hand not holding yours on your waist.
"May I?" He asked.
When you nodded, once again speechless, he pulled you nearly flush to his chest, and you hoped he didn’t hear the gasp that passed your lips. From there he eased you into a waltz as the music slowly transitioned to a new melody.
You were thankful to find Yuta’s lead forgiving. His grip easily adjusted to support you in the moments you faltered, so the steps were at least somewhat graceful. A flush threatened to redden your face because of the affect his warm, steady hands were having on you.
Comfortable silence stretched for a few seconds before he spoke up again – dipping his head closer to your ear to keep the conversation private.
"This is your first time waltzing, isn't it?" Despite not seeing his face you could hear the smirk in his voice.
"Is it that obvious?" You admitted, embarrassed at it being so apparent.
"Painfully." Yuta answered, continuing in a exaggerated whisper. "You've stepped on my toe three times."
Your heart jumped and an apology started to bubble out of you, but with one quick movement he spun you into a turn and you landed naturally back into his arms - eyes locked with his once more.
"But I'd say you're a natural." He spoke softly and looked as affected as you had been feeling for a moment before the flirtation blended back into him, mixing with this new earnest aura. "Is this your first gala as well?"
It took you a second longer than him to change directions back to normal conversation. You had to admit that now this dance was about more than satisfying some selfish curiosity about the mafia. It was about Yuta. Only him.
"I can't say I've ever been to a party like this." A party full of the biggest names in organized crime, one of which was a man making you dizzy with his attention.
Almost like he could read your mind amusement lit up his face. "How do you like it?"
You weren’t sure how to answer. If your assumption was correct it was his party, so you didn’t want to say you felt completely out of place, but you also didn’t want to lie to someone you were starting to hope you'd see again after this night.
So, you went with a noncommittal response.
"It's… very different from my usual crowd." As soon as you said the words you knew what question was coming next.
As expected he settled onto the topic. "And what might that be?"
The pause that followed almost made you abandon being truthful, but when he took in a breath to again change the subject for your comfort you interjected before he could. "The street racers. I'm a part of Renjun's crew."
You drew back to gauge his reaction, and his smile told you he was pleased that you'd chosen reveal more about yourself to him.
"So, you're the famous navigator Taeyong mentioned.“ The familiar way he spoke the leaders name confirmed for you he was a member of the inner circle. Knowing that your reputation preceded you, that you'd impressed Taeyong, gave you a bit of your fire back.
“What gave me away?” For the first time you were the one teasing him, and it definitely didn't go unnoticed.
“Word travels. You're the most talented navigator in the country, yet no one knows your name or face. Only the silver mask." He tapped your jaw lightly, and you found yourself wishing you could've felt the touch on your skin. "I did detailed background checks on everyone else. I can tell you what Jaemin got on his 3rd grade math final, but you are the anonymous enigma.”
The teasing lilt in his voice and mirth in his eyes was all that kept you from making a biting remark about privacy.
“I wasn’t aware I’d become an urban legend.” The quip had an edge to it still, but he laughed at your words - a bubbly and intoxicating sound.
"Well." He started, pulling you closer again. "It's one of the many reasons no one can take their eyes off of you."
His voice had dropped as he said the words, the tone deep and honeyed, but before you could melt into the floor he spun you out again. Your dress swirled around your feet in an arc until he settled you back into his arms - your faces mere inches apart. He's good. It was obvious that Yuta was a master of this cat and mouse game. He understood social rhythm at such a deep level that keeping you guessing at every turn, interested at every moment, was easy as breathing.
And to you it was breathtaking.
"Are you sure they aren't looking at you?" Your voice was lighter than you expected, and he chuckled again. Yuta boldly dropped his eyes to take you in for a moment so long that your heart rate skyrocketed.
"No it's you." His focus settled on something over your shoulder. "Except for Renjun, he looks like he wants to run me over with his car."
"He'd use someone else's car." The response was automatic and jokingly casual, so when Yuta's brows shot up into his hairline you just had to explain yourself to keep the bit going. "He drives a fully restored 1965 Ford GT40. Those bumpers aren't cheap."
Yuta easily followed you up. "Well, it's nice to know he wouldn't ruin a perfectly good bumper to take me down."
His humor fitting so well with yours made you warm inside, so you decided to help him out with the overprotective glare you could practically sense being thrown at him from across the way.
"Turn us around and I'll take care of him." Renjun's hair made it easy to find him in the crowd. His concern wilted under the look you gave him, and one short silent conversation later he gave you a reluctant nod, melting back into the mass of people. You hadn't noticed that Yuta had turned to watch the exchange, but when your focus came back to him he threw his head back cackling. "What?"
"Remind me not to get on your bad side."
Something about that moment broke the last bit of your resolve just as the last bars of music played and the dance ended. What harm could your first name do?
"My name's Y/N."
His grin in response rivaled any other he'd given you before.
"It's nice to meet you, Y/N." Yuta lowered his brows seriously. "And don't worry, that stays between you and me. Renjun told us you want your identity classified - I promise you it will stay that way."
"Thank you." The courtesy he'd just given you was more than you'd ever expected. The rumors that had led you to giving this a chance might be turning out to be more real than you and Renjun thought.
"I know Renjun doesn't trust us yet, but-"
Yuta's voice faded to the background of your mind when you spotted a familiar face sporting a vile grin floating in your periphery. Your blood ran cold. Impossible. You whipped around but he was already gone - vanishing like a phantom into thin air, but you'd seen him and known he was real.
Panic stole your breath, crushing your chest under it's weight, and you began a new frantic search for Renjun. He had to know. Everyone needed to know.
He was back.
"Y/N!" Gentle hands caught your shoulders and you remembered Yuta was still with you. "What's wrong?"
Glass was shattering and raining down around you before you could explain that now the real monster was here.
#NCT#nct x reader#nct yuta#nakamoto yuta#nct yuta x reader#nct 127 fanfic#nct 127 au#nct mafia au#nct mafia fic#nct dream au#nct dream#NCT 127#nct 127 x reader#nct au#nct fanfic#nct fanfiction#nct 127 fluff#nct mafia#nct 127 mafia#nct yuta mafia
122 notes
·
View notes
Text
Wet Sand
Stone Gossard x OC
Chapter 1 - River
꧁•⊹٭𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚍, 𝚒 𝚍𝚘٭⊹•꧂
Summary: He was a punk, she did...punk. Can I make it any more obvious?
masterlist
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫
Notes: but tryskomys, I hear you say, you have two unfinished fanfictions and you’re just going to pull a non-existent sixth member of one of the most influential bands of all time out of your ass? and my answer is yes. i am about to do that. i hope that this can be read even if you're not aware/a fan of this type of music. maybe i can convert you, though? give it a try, it might win your heart over. i'd be honoured if it was through my story. (more notes at the end)
tw: swear words, flirting skills of a 9 year-old. cheesy meet-cute. like, rom-com style stinky cheese. hope you'll like it!
songs:
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫
1987, December
It’s late.
Probably already dark outside, the basement didn’t have any windows so there was no way to tell. Not that it mattered anyway, winter seemed to feast on seasonal depression so it made the sun go down even before it could properly rise above the horizon of the Seattle skyline.
She was grasping at straws though, looking for any excuse to bail. Excuse for herself, that is.
This was your idea, idiot. Sit and observe the local wildlife, you said. Serves you right.
She winced at her internal self-scolding as she looked around the room, scratching her forehead uncomfortably. It should be illegal to have this many people in one place. It just doesn’t seem right.
The human species has evolved from herd behaviour, but it seems like bars are a lingering relic of those times. Like a pocket universe where anything goes. A window to the past. Especially the mating calls.
She allowed herself to break the edgy facade she cemented on her freckled face and grinned, hiding the smug expression by taking a swig of the stale beer that she’d been sipping for the last hour.
A couple of teenagers, definitely not old enough to be in a bar, just walked - stumbled by. Their tongues were so far up each other’s throats that they probably reached into their eye sockets, too.
She managed to lift the lukewarm bottle of Budweiser just as they crashed into her table, minimalizing the spillage to a tiny puddle. They didn’t even seem to notice the collision, instead awkwardly taking a beeline to the restrooms.
Bless their hearts.
She snorted and wiped the liquid with the hem of her blue sweatshirt before cuffing the sleeves. There were many more odd couples similarly lost in their little worlds, some of them more one-sided than others. Her eyes scanned the line of people standing in front of the counter, either waiting for their drinks or simply chatting.
A surfer dude with a barely visible 5 o'clock shadow trying to woo a short brunette who seemed to be too drunk to realize he’s clumsily trying to slip a pill into her drink. Thankfully she seemed to be quite infatuated with his greasy blonde hair and wouldn’t look away no matter how hard he tried to bait her. In the end, her friend came up and dragged her away, leaving the guy to sit there like a lost kid.
All is fair in love and war my ass. Good riddance, prick.
The girl rubbed her eye and softly cursed when it stung. She forgot she had eyeliner on but it was already smudged, mixing with the purple circles under her eyes.
The bar was definitely going overboard with the heating, trying to make up for the coldness emanating from the brick walls, abused by the snowy breeze outside. The herd factor didn’t contribute to making the place more breathable either.
She took another gulp of her beer, pulling a disgusted grimace as the stale liquid moved down her throat. Her gaze moved to another group of people at the bar.
Two girls, one very tall and the other trying to make up for her average height with big heels, talking to a fairly good-looking guy who just seemed to enjoy the attention.
There was no way she could hear them from this distance, but the body language was a clear giveaway that they were trying to one-up each other, one outfit more colourful than the other, showing all the peacock feathers that matter to a guy like that - pompous, in a tight shirt and permed hair teased as far as they could go. She even felt like she could smell his nauseating pine cologne.
Oh, a little bandana too. Cute. Crawled right out of a Mötley video.
She snorted again, wiping a drop of beer that ran down her chin as she moved to the next couple. One of the lone strings of artificial light was pointing there, making it seem a lot more dramatic than it needed to be. Like a Renaissance painting.
She was just about to study the scene but her eyes flickered next to them at the sound of a shot glass breaking against the floor. She rested her back against the hard wall, welcoming the stingy sensation of the cold stone.
Ha, stone, what a grounding word.
Stone, stone.
My kingdom for a stone…
She sang a little melody in her head before frowning.
“What the fuck?” she whispered to scold herself again, wondering if there are any brain cells left in her brain, considering they seemed to be rapidly dying due to the lack of oxygen in the room.
She realized she truly might not have much to work with at this point because she was starting to see colours that definitely weren’t there.
Is that a fluffy pink scrunchie?
The pair consisted of what seemed to be another mating ritual, but this time, she couldn’t get a read on the situation. At all. She just couldn’t concentrate, all her senses were fixated on that one scrunchie wrapped around a high ponytail.
She studied the flowing hair that cascaded around it. Long, a little wavy. Soft, considering they had an unnatural red tint near the ends, probably courtesy of a bad dye job.
Too soft. Unfairly soft.
She blinked a few times and squinted, unable to make out the face they belonged to as he was facing the bar, his shoulders shaking with a laugh. Broad shoulders. Angular.
She realized he was towering over most of the bar and wondered if he was really that tall or if it was just the phosphorescent scrunchie standing out like a black eye. She caught a glimpse of his hand as he moved his lanky arm to pat the blond girl next to him on the back, almost condescendingly. An unusual gesture for a mating ritual.
The blondie, courtesy of peroxide, was pretty tall as well, but his huge hand seemed to take up a bizarre amount of length of her torso.
The sagacious watcher darted her eyes from knuckle to knuckle, trying to count them as if she were making sure he didn’t have any extras. No, they were just very long. And elegant.
When she reached his fourth finger, graced with a simple silver ring, the hand disappeared into his back pocket, awkwardly sticking out as it didn’t really fit. She chewed on her lip to contain another smug grin.
Good riddance. That’s what you get for wearing tight jeans, you beanpole. Might as well wear stockings next time.
She quickly turned her attention the room again when she realized she held her gaze on his ass for way too long to pass it as simply observing the locals. Her breath seemed to hitch in her throat, so she sipped a bit of her beer to ground herself in the murky depths of socialization.
Hm. Grounding. My kingdom for a stone…
This time she visibly shook her head and a blush crept up her jawline, perplexed by the way her brain ridiculed her. And the image of the guy’s fingers burned behind her eyelids like a cruel brand.
They would look great wrapped around the neck. Of a Les Paul. The neck of a Les Paul. Not a Strat, that one is not thick enough for them. Fuck.
She looked again, this time he was facing the tall blondie next to him so she could see the little peak of his face. She didn’t want to, though. The hand was enough. Somehow her head screamed at her to look away, to find a different object of attention, just not this stupid beanpole. She couldn’t help it. The overly dramatic lighting hit the angles of his face just too perfectly not to look.
His forehead was quite prominent. His nose too, true aquiline shape. And a sharp jawline, clenching from time to time when he chuckled at something the blondie said.
Like a Roman statue.
She chewed on her lip again, this time a bit more harshly to silence her stained thoughts. She wasn’t sure about the rest of his face as the lighting only illuminated the most noticeable parts, but she could tell he had a very unusual kind of attraction.
Look anywhere else but his face. Or hair, or ass. Come on, there must be somewhere else.
She hyped herself up to leave his Roman nose alone and her eyes were already involuntarily falling back down his body, but this time she stopped at his torso. She sucked her teeth, trying to hide an amused smirk.
A white t-shirt, sleeves rolled up a bit. And a vest. Not just any vest. It was this grotesque mix of velvet, crochet and patchwork fabric, all sorts of different colours.
Really? With that scrunchie? Decadent.
She would’ve thought it was some sort of a bizarre Seattle trend if he wasn’t the only one wearing that. Somehow, it looked perfect on him, though. It hung from his slender shoulders like he was born with it, beaming under the sliver of light like one of those colourful kaleidoscopes kids buy in scammy souvenir shops. It must’ve been the way he was carrying himself.
He had this smug confidence around him, that was all she could make out. Otherwise, he was unreadable. Unlike the other guys around the bar, cool and unbothered.
Like a stone wall.
This time, her brain didn’t sing a stupid tune. She was too fixated on the way his nose scrunched whenever he broke into a smirk, raising his eyebrows as the blondie tried to articulate something. She was clearly trying to play it cool but ended up being flustered instead. He seemed to bask in it, though.
Figures that a beanpole with a scrunchie would be amused by some poor girl’s advances.
He does seem like he’s kinda into it, though. The way he bites his lip from time to time gives it away. And he’s definitely standing way too close to her.
She was so caught up in her crass analysis that she didn’t notice that the guy turned to face the room, leaned his palm against the wooden bar and scanned the crowd with a dissociated gaze. She thought she started seeing strange colours again when her vision blurred in a green haze. It took her a split second before she realized he was looking right at her.
The green was his eyes. Huge, protruding eyes lined with the slightest hint of eyeliner.
Shit.
Her head snapped to the restroom door, trying to avert her attention to anything else but the fact that she had been caught gawking at a stranger across a bar. The sudden motion made her neck cramp, so she reached up and poked it as nonchalantly as possible.
Very subtle.
Her eyes started wandering away from the restroom sign and she tried to not repeat her mistake. But he just stuck out of the crowd, with that stupid scrunchie and that stupid nose. It was like waving a diamond ring in front of a magpie.
Her hopeless gaze just ended up on him again. She was taken aback when she found that the glowing green didn’t move.
This time, he was the one to dart away when their eyes met, rapidly turning his attention to the blondie. He did it a lot more gracefully than her, but she couldn’t help but grin when he clumsily rubbed his neck.
She caught a glimpse of the tiniest crack in his composed facade before he brushed a stray hair away from his face and tucked it behind his ear. He leaned his elbow on the bar, coolness wrapping him around once again.
Strike one.
She could still see in her peripheral that he was looking around the room and she subconsciously followed his suit, like yawning when someone else does.
It didn’t take too long before their line of sight crossed again, this time they both knew better than to lock themselves in an unescapable staring contest and looked away before anyone could classify it as anything else but a coincidence.
Strike two.
She catastrophically failed at containing the smile that appeared on her face, quickly taking a sip of her beer to hide it in case he happened to look at her again.
The beer was getting warmer and warmer and that made the bitterness overwhelming, so the grin was exchanged for the typical nose scrunch grimace you do when you drink something that used to have bubbles in it.
The momentary lapse in attention caused her to involuntarily shoot him another look, but he was already studying her face with a lopsided smirk dancing on his lips. His eyes stayed the same, but somehow she felt the smile changed his demeanour.
Strike three.
He seemed to soundlessly tut and slowly shook his head as if he was deeply disappointed that she was making faces while drinking alcohol like a child.
Before she could stop herself, she mockingly repeated his grin and then stuck out her tongue at him.
Like a child. 5th grade flirting, very mature.
He closed his eyes for a second to compose himself and then turned back to the blondie next to him, unsuccessfully trying to hide a toothy smile with a gulp of beer, just like she did minutes ago.
If she could deck herself in the face, she would do it in a heartbeat. She would deck him as well for the tasteless taunt. She rolled her eyes at her own immaturity, but it was simply a knee-jerk reaction to his mischievous expression.
Pavlov’s beanpole.
She didn’t see that grin on his face when he was talking to the blondie. She couldn’t decide if that was a particularly good thing. The suave factor was exchanged for playful sarcasm and she was wondering if it was insulting or not.
Is he insinuating that I’m not worthy of his coolness like Miss Fast Times over there?
She automatically tried to smooth her messy hair down, putting a stray curl behind her ear.
Pavlov’s beanpole.
The curl just bounced back, joining the unruly sea that lined her face. Not that his lack of interest would be a big surprise to her, considering the out-of-place look that she was sporting.
The mousy fawn colour of the mop of curls was contaminated by a similar grown-out red as his, the sectoral heterochromia tinted one of her otherwise brown eyes with a streak of blue.
The satanic-panic-defying t-shirt with a red dragon didn’t help much, either. How could she compete with a girl-next-door-all-American sweetheart when she’d look like a stray raccoon from The Shire next to her and Mr. Beanpole who’s a whole foot taller than her?
Thank god no one’s heard me speak, they would stone me for foreign espionage or some shit. That’s it. One last peek and go home.
Oh.
The scrunchie disappeared from her sight and so did the peroxide blond perm, leaving a gaping nothingness in the stream of warm light.
Good for you, sweetheart. It’s not like you had to try or anything.
The watcher rolled her eyes at her bitterness and emptied the rest of the bottle in her throat, downing it like it was a shot. Another twitch of the nose, now accompanied by a stifled cough.
See, that didn’t even hurt. The elders of Hackney would’ve been proud. Fucking lightweight.
That seemed to be enough for that night, so she rubbed her eyes again and tried to mentally prepare for squeezing through all those cheerful people. The bony fingers were still lurking behind her eyelids, now joined by a pair of cheeky olive eyes.
When the vigorous rubbing stopped, she blinked a few times to make sure she did open her eyes, because the hands were still there. Right in front of her, leaning against the table, each fully wrapped around a dewy beer bottle. She looked up. The eyes were there, too, exactly as sly as before. Only even bigger up close.
Jesus Christ.
"Figured you’d want something you wouldn’t choke on. Seems like I came exactly at the right moment.”
His voice was a lot deeper than she would’ve expected, nasal and smug. The smug part was, on the other hand, just as she’d imagined. It was irresistibly annoying.
Don’t be rude, don’t be rude, don’t…
“Did that line ever work out for you?”
Oh well.
His smirk grew even wider, scrunching his nose just as she’d noticed before. Very irresistible. A chuckle rumbled somewhere deep inside his chest. It sent a jolt through her whole body, she was taken aback by the way her limbs jerked at his command.
Pavlov’s beanpole.
“I don’t know, that’s what I’m trying to find out,” he chirped, raising his eyebrows when she didn’t chuckle. Irresistibly punchable face. She felt like she was under a microscope, those saucer eyes inspecting her every move.
His face was properly illuminated now that he leaned a bit closer, making all those angles even more prominent.
The nose looked softer somehow, almost elven, the scrunchie twinkled in all shades of pink. She noticed that he had two almost symmetrical freckles on each of his cheeks, as well as on both sides of his chin. A Roman statue sculpted with a protractor. He raised his eyebrows even higher, challenging her to respond.
“Earth to Baby? Who put you in a corner?” he mused, waving his obscenely long fingers in front of her eyes. Measuring her entire face.
Pavlov’s…fingers? Quick, say something witty.
“Budweiser tastes like piss.”
Nailed it.
His laugh rang in her ears. She caught a glimpse of his teeth, observing the sharp tips of his canines. Even his teeth would cause a papercut.
“Different strokes, different folks,” he retorted, shrugging. She mirrored his movement.
“I’m not into golden showers, sorry,” she shook her head, putting on a pitiful pout. He let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head.
“In that case, I’ll be on my way, milady.”
He bowed and dramatically spun around as if he were leaving. She chuckled, a sound that made him spin back and lean against the table again, this time even closer, with another irresistibly annoying smirk.
Jesus. Do you know the term 'personal space', mate?
She tried to convince herself that she minded by leaning back against the stone wall. It was like he could hear the wheels turning in her head, raising his eyebrows on cue with her inevitable train of thought.
My kingdom for a…
“Stone.”
Her eyes popped open.
What the fuck is this fever dream? Can he hear me?
“Pardon?” she choked out. He narrowed his eyes at her.
“That’s my name.”
Huh?
“Oh. I wish I could help you with that,” she blurted out, regretting it immediately when his eyes lost all cheerfulness.
If there was an encyclopaedia of human expressions, that would be the picture next to the definition of 'puppy eyes'.
Before she could say anything, he raised his eyebrows again and broke into a wide grin, the suave coolness back in its tracks.
“Oh my god, your face. Don’t cry, Baby, not for me.”
Fucking beanpole.
She rolled her eyes so hard she might’ve pulled a muscle, letting out a heavy huff when he giggled. His hair bounced off his shoulders as they shook, waving a strawberry shampoo scent in her direction. That was enough to make a wave of blood rush into her cheeks.
Cool down, fast.
“What a gentleman. Can’t resist a beer from such sophisticated hands,” she shrugged, hiding the way her throat knotted with a soft cough. He just nodded, handing her the bottle.
His fingers seemed to be everywhere, and when they brushed against hers, she could swear her eyes went fuzzy for a split second. He seemed to notice the contact too, quickly offering his bottle for a clink.
“Cheers, Baby.”
“Chin-chin, beanpole.”
He snorted at the nickname, taking a swig. She followed, welcoming the harsh bubbling sensation only a cold beverage can bring. He tapped his finger on the wooden table.
“Can I sit?”
“It’s the Land of the Free, mate. Be my guest,” she nodded, raising her eyebrows when he cursed under his breath with a chuckle.
“Don’t spoil me, I’ll blush,” he reached for an empty chair in the cubicle next to them and sat down opposite her.
He folded his arms, trying not to take up all space at the table. She didn’t feel any less overwhelmed though, as his eyes were still darting around her pale face, very occasionally blinking in a slow, deliberate pattern.
“Thanks for the drink. Hope your lady doesn’t mind,” she narrowed her eyes, trying to look anywhere but his face. He raised his eyebrows for a second as if he didn’t know what she was talking about and then nodded.
“Oh! Oh yeah, I was waiting for my lady to sober up a bit but she got spooked when she didn’t see my face four times anymore,” he shrugged, not showing a single sign of defeat or self-pity. She knitted her eyebrows as she took a drink, tutting.
“I think it was the scrunchie, Stone,” she put extra weight on his name and he gave her the best pout he could conjure.
“Baby doesn’t like my scrunchie?”
“I think it’s cute, goes with the granny vest. But you know how it goes, different strokes…” she nodded sympathetically, her heart skipping a beat when his lips parted in a big “O” and he opened his eyes even wider.
How is that possible?
“You think I’m cute?”
Abort.
“I said your scrunchie was cute. Big difference, Stone,” she emphasized his name again, making him shake his head in disappointment.
“That’s getting kind of old. You’re running out of ammo. That’s like waving a big red blanket in front of me, so watch out,” he threatened with his index finger. She raised her palms in defence.
He scanned her arms, wondering how something so innocently small could make his cheeks inflame so harshly. He just started to imagine wrapping her hands in his when her voice tore him out of his thoughts. It was low and silent, velvety like a siren call. It undermined the whole 'innocent' thing.
“I surrender. I’ve just never met a person named Stone before. Might be a common name here, what the hell do I know.”
He managed to compose himself quite quickly, shooing dirty thoughts out of his head like unwanted pest.
“Let’s hear your name then, see how it stands the test of time. Kate? Audie? Marge?” he mused in a terrible English accent as he counted the names on his fingers. She mocked a laugh, shaking her head.
“Har har. Okay, Dick van Dyke, you struck me as a witty person. I’m disappointed.”
“Maggie?”
“No.”
“Agnes?”
“…no?”
“Aha! Adelaide! Maeve!”
“Do I look like your grandma? You’re the one who borrowed her vest!” she pointed at him, her voice changing pitch as she waved her arms around.
He smiled like the Cheshire cat, now being the one to raise his arms in surrender. She shook her head with a scoff.
“It’s Keeva.”
“See, told you.”
She reached up as if she was going to slap him, with a big grin plastered on her face. He flinched and raised his arms even higher, trying to contain the laughter that was rumbling in his throat.
“Your name is Kiwi and you’re…”
“Keeva!”
“…and you’re laughing about Stone? Baby, we’re in the same boat here,” he raised an eyebrow, clueless to the fact his Patrick Swayze routine impacted her more and more with every use.
Stop it, beanpole.
“Nobody calls me Keeva, though, thankfully. It’s Kiki. Easily disguised, unlike Stone, which sounds like a name from a Cheech and Chong movie, by the way,” she retorted, grinning in expectation as she noticed the single twitch in his eye that appeared before every snappy remark.
“Oh, ok. Kiki, as in the Kikimora, right? Kinda suits you, not gonna lie,” he smirked and she shook her head in disbelief at his blatant taunting.
“Lies, lies. Don’t try to deflect, Stoner, you’re the one with the weird name here.”
“It’s not just your name, though, I’ve heard things about you that you wouldn’t believe,” he shrugged, nonchalantly looking around the bar as she froze on the spot.
What the hell…
He looked at her again and leaned forward, motioning her to come closer to him, too. His saucer eyes scanned her with intense sincerity. She frowned but inched closer. He nudged her head with his cheek so he’d be closer to her ear. His hair tickled her carmine face, his warm breath like gasoline on her already flaming ears.
“I’m in your walls,” he breathed out, breaking into a wide pompous smirk when her eyes widened at his audacity. His aquiline nose brushed against her cheekbone as he sat back in his chair, clearly satisfied when she jerked her foot forward, kicking his shin with the tip of her worn-out Docs.
Pavlov’s Stone.
“Ow! I just can’t get enough of that thing you do with your mouth when you’re pissed off, sorry,” he snorted, reaching under the table to rub the spot she’d just hit. As if the blush could get any worse.
“I’m fucking with you. It’s a small world out here. A friend of mine has a band who was told by another band that a band that practices in the Potatohead hired some hot-shot English munchkin as a session musician for their EP. And that she’s wreaking havoc and corrupting the youth of Seattle with good ol’ evil rock and roll,” he shrugged. “And the friend told my band and I told another band…you know how rumours spread like wildfire around starving artists.”
Oh. So the fingers do wrap around a Les Paul. Figures.
“You trying to tell me that I get jobs because of you? My knight in shining armour, pleasure to finally meet the man who puts crusty toasts with a smear of butter on my table each night,” she did a quick dramatic bow and couldn’t help but smile at the way his eyes twinkled when he realized that he didn’t mistake her for someone else.
He’d hoped it was her. He’d be disappointed if it wasn’t.
“Anytime, Baby. If you behave, I might tell another band and you’ll get a slice of cheese on top.”
Is the 'baby' still a part of the routine?
“Charitable. Well, there’s a surprisingly big market for session musicians here. It’s not the most fabulous thing in the world, but I get to play and get paid for it, that’s all I could ever ask for, really.”
He looked so different when he was serious. Older. Stoic. Breathtaking. He nodded and Kiki knew Stone completely understood what she was talking about. It was in those damned eyes.
“Is it fulfilling?”
“What job is? I mean, I work in a café four days a week. When I get to go to the studio, sometimes they give me sheet music, sometimes they tell me to just do whatever, I do my part and go home. Hardly fulfilling for a musician, but you know…”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Stone nodded, focusing his distant gaze on the table.
He reached up to his hair and pulled off the scrunchie, letting the brown waves fall in his eyes before carefully tucking them behind his slightly pointy ears.
Her nose was hit with his scent again and she was glad his stare was fixated on the pink fabric he was trying to play Cat's cradle with under the table. He always got to the first loop and let it go again, the scrunchie was way too small for his hands.
“Are you in a band?” he asked, and for the first time that evening, he seemed to be a bit awkward, vulnerable even. It was endearing, another irresistible notch on his belt.
“Do I look like I have any friends?” she chuckled, relieved when he mirrored her smile. The sudden seriousness was overwhelming.
Can this guy do anything in moderation?
“Different strokes...but I’ve heard that you’re fucking great,” he let the compliment hang in the air for a few moments before striking her with another look.
Scrutinizing her. Pinning her to her seat again. She shook her head, hoping the short curls curtain at least a part of her red face.
“Not really. If I was, I would be in a band. I mean, I’ve been here for about a month now, so that’s a pretty short time to find anyone, but still…” she sighed. “I’ve had no time to go and see any gigs yet. I wanted to check out Soundgarden tonight, I’ve heard they’re playing Off Ramp, but…”
His eyes lit up so bright they swallowed her senses and made her lips part in surprise. She thought they couldn’t get any more mesmerizing.
There’s that misbehaving beanpole again.
“No way, are you stalking me? I’m going there, too.”
“Did you get lost on the way? We’ve both been here for hours,” she chuckled and took a drink of the beer that was once again indigestible. She pulled another face and that earned a deep, breathy laugh from him.
“I know a shortcut, Baby. We’ll get you a fresh bottle there, I can’t stand seeing your baby face in pain. Come on, chop-chop or we'll miss it! Jesus, when Chris sees you there, he’s gonna implode!”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫
i've never been too comfortable writing about real, actual people so if this is awkward, i'm really sorry, i'm working on it ♡ i try to take this as more of an 'inspired by real events' story, so we'll see what comes of it.
sincerest apologies to fellow Pearl Marmelade fans, my brain works in bizzare patterns. Please, don’t stone me. hehe. heh. get it? love you all!
#pearl jam fanfic#pearl jam fanfiction#stone gossard fanfiction#stone gossard fanfic#stone gossard x oc#90s music#pearl jam imagine#mother love bone#pearl jam#band fic#grunge fanfiction#grunge fic#lmfao i know all the grunge musicians hate the term#i just couldnt help it#fanfiction#fanfic#stone gossard
6 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
quirkaboo
Untitled
crippled-panda88
Untitled
tofreheatsticks
TOFRE heatsticks
dreamyfeminine
nakedness.
scherzyhamilton
Scherzy Hamilton