#after one million years i rise from my grave
Text
request: I was wondering if you could switch the roles, Like Leo or all the boys get into a bad situation, that quickly turns dangerous, When out of nowhere, Badass reader comes in and saves the day! With a mutant reader please, Like the reader is very big and scary, Or very short and goblin like 😈, Like a little menace. (And maybe the reader is very funny and immature🥺?)
🝮 “ target practice “
platonic!rise!leo x goblin!reader
author’s notes: i’m so distraught right now because tumblr forced me into light mode. My eyes: hurt, my pride: broke, my water for my noodles: boiling. Anyways, I hope you like this, requester, and my apologies for vanishing into the void for months :))))
word count: 2.2k
Beneath an orange morning sky, in a village of few citizens, a little green goblin was doing away with a crime. Mucked up hands shoveled the soft red dirt into a hole until it was full. Y/N smoothed out the dirt around them desperately. A muddy hand tucked red locks behind their ear, They had just now successfully buried away a certain accident or two involving 1.) explosives and 2.) their mother’s special pot. While it wasn’t entirely their fault, there was no way in hell their mother was going to be discovering this… Well, it didn’t even look like a pot anymore. It looked like a gunsman had released a thousand years of anger out on the poor clay vessel—and it basically was when you really think about it.
See, this particular goblin had been testing out newfound magic of theirs—runes that ignited the second it hit a surface. Hard. So of course their first plan was to get an arrow’s head, rune it, attach it to a bow, and begin target practice in the backyard. With the sun above as their only witness, Y/N pulled back on their bow, zeroed in on their target—an innocent knitted cat with buttons for eyes—and let go. The arrow struck within seconds, and an explosion followed shortly after.
A sinister grin played on their features, only to dissipate into pure fear as they realized the rock poor Missus Mittensmith, the plush cat, sat on had turned to tissue at the might of their magic.
Following the path of projection, Y/N could imagine their mother leaning up against a shovel before a dug-up grave very soon as they inspected the crime scene—a creamy soup was slopping down the windowsill, through the broken-open clay pot with teensy holes through it on the other side.
“ Ha-haaaah… Luckily mum wasn’t home, but.. “
So yeah, the obvious course of action was to take the evidence and bury it—no butt-whoopins tonight! Patting the soil in a desperate way to make it as inconspicuous as possible, you stood up and gave a few shifty glances around, checking for the coast to be clear. Atop a hill of red dirt, a grave in which no one but yourself knew about now existed. There was nothing to see for miles, or well, for at least a 16 minute walk from your house
“ Mission accomplished… But now what, I still want to practice… ”
As the guilty weight stepped off your shoulders, a heavy sigh of relief dragged out—only for your breath to hitch in your throat, stopped at its gates as you heard heavy footsteps come and stop behind you. A gasp from the mystery person followed.
A million thoughts raced by instantly. One thought played out a frightening scene, of Mother standing behind you. She was heaving angrily, eyes vibrating as they put two and two together and realized your crime. Oh please do not let that be the reality, you begged any unforeseen force. Who could be here? Please, say it wasn’t Mom, you pleaded to the deities while turning your head slowly to meet your demise…
Only, the one behind you wasn’t Mother—it wasn’t even someone familiar, not anyone from your village, at least. This dude was a yokai of sorts, of the turtle variant possibly, and boy did he seem like he was looking at a ghost right now.
“ hoo boy—“
The gap between him and you grew with each hesitant step he took backwards, both your eyes locked in a curious yet cautious gaze. Soon, he would twirl the incredibly-sharp, blue-handled katana you had long since caught sight of in his hand. Had it not been for the peculiarity of this interaction and how little time there was to respond, the weapon would have frightened you beyond belief. Some fearful thoughts weaseled into your head, like “ is he from one of the warring territories across the river? “ or “ had the gods favored this pot that much that they would cut me down at the scene of the crime?! “ and even a sly, quiet thought that rubbed its hands together mischievously, “ … can i practice my magic on him? “
Instead, the “ yokai “ pivoted and swung his sword, spooking out a flinch as you assumed you were his target. Rather than meeting your end, a swirling magic, elliptical and blue as the shifting sky above, followed the slice of his blade.
Now here’s where the true absurdity begins. Any normal person with a sense of self preservation would hightail it away as soon as this stranger turned his back. They would flee with their life, hoping to get away before their pursuer can strike them down!
But you? Why, this recent development of magic has to go somewhere, and why would it choose anywhere except straight to your head? Recklessly, your feet dug into the dirt, forcing your body up to follow the strange man through his portal.
Electricity passed over your body, shocking and tingling you—disorienting, even. When you were finally through, missing the portal’s snapping shut by just a hair, your body met the ground and rolled to the side, assuming cover behind some wooden crates. Your back pressed against it as your breathing attempted to sooth the thundering heart in your chest.
“ Ughhh…. Why’d I do that… And.. ”
With blurred vision, you rubbed your eyes a few times and took in the neon ‘scape surroundings. There were rich, vibrant purples, blaring yellow-hued lights, and reds dotting here and there. Wherever you were, it was far from the scene of home.
“ Where… am I? “
Curious eyes soak up the scene, taking in the sight of a purple-y blur dashing towards a weirdly dressed man, stopping short with skidding footsteps as a portal whirred from the villain’s hands. A little boy with odd clothing, unlike the others, stumbled through and slammed hard into the chest of the stranger with a shriek. As soon as the boy clonked into the other, there was a pop of sparkles and he was gone.
A red flash bursts, enlarging and swinging a fist towards the man, only to glitch and crackle until the form popped as yet another portal opened up and dropped a lady in different yet sort of familiar attire fell from the sky and was caught by the ruby stranger. She stared at the behemoth, shrieked, and then was enveloped in sparkles too, vanishing seconds later.
As you started recognizing these three may have been related to the one you followed, a battle cry of sorts dragged your attention over as you watched a boy in orange ignite fiery nunchucks and lunge them at who you deduced was either the bad guy, the punching bag, or a poor bystander. Before the villain could respond, the orange boy’s attack was disturbed by a random portal opened up. Out ran a girl in strange attire and a large hourglass wand, stumbling straight into and tumbling them both down to the ground. She, um… Well, she probably wasn’t related to the villain.
There was a glint of evil in your eyes as your palms came together, preparing to take an arrow and send it flying into the fray, successfully joining the battle for more than selfish reasons. Ducking back behind the crate, your hands readied themselves to reach for the familiar wooden arrows—that is, until someone’s name was yelled, loud enough to stir your intrigue.
Peeking from behind the crate, your eyes soaked up the scene of the villainous man in a strange outfit—the clothing was fitted, unlike that of the fashion back home which was composed of more flowing, breathable material. This figure wore black clothing, with sleek pants that followed the frame of his legs. It was such a strange get-up, but even stranger was the four mystic fighters that were now struggling amidst rope.
“ Leo, I told you I had it—I was going in for the hit! “
Grumbled a turtle-like yokai with bands of violet adding pops of color against their green skin. The next to respond looked like the blue you followed, Leo?— he groaning out annoyedly.
“ And I would have had it better, with more pizazz, if you hadn’t gotten in my way! “
“ Focus, both of you! “
“ Yeah, and who cares who would have had it when we’re all tied UP! “
The much larger figure growled out, banded with red and a sharp-toothy scowl, followed by the smallest of the four as he kicked his legs for emphasis.
Curiosity ran through your body, crackling and surging right on down to the flick of your ear as the current situation was a puzzle coming to completion in the moment: if they were the good—or mediocre—guys, now tied up, then that surely made the man in strange, fitted attire the bad guy, right?
And who better to practice magic on than the big baddie. The energy boiling inside of you manifested into a magic that just begged to be weaponized. It had to go somewhere; didn’t it? Yeah, so let’s do that, and then worry about this strange place later.
Great idea, surely nothing wrong with it.
Wait, bow, where is it? Frantic hands patted up and down before finally resting on the bow secured on your back. Thank god you had placed it there. Imagine being in this situation, empty-handed?
…
Where’s your quiver…?
“ I do say, perhaps you lot would be so much happier in another time and place, hmm? “
The figure circled the roped-up heroes, grinning as he clasped his hands and twiddled the fingers against themselves.
“ Oh, great, I’ve always wanted to be sent to another era by a villain in an ill fitting suit, he said sarcastically. “
“ Donnie! “
With narry an arrow in sight, you searched for the next best thing.
A nearby rock, unaware of its soon-to-come demise, was plucked up by your sneaky hands. Shaky fingers traced amateur lines, neater than the first set, but messier than perfect, until innate arcane energy illuminated the rock with fiery symbols.
A little bit of fumbling with the bow wasted time until you realized the rock wasn’t actually a good option at an arrow, but you know what it was good for?
“ Ah yes, to the Roman Empire I’ll send you lot. How does 1 AD sound? “
Before the dapper villain could even begin his send off, a rock clonked right into his forehead. There was a teensy tiny second in which everyone wore a confused face, except one whose blue hues, ignited in arcana, had immediately turned to the direction it came from. His gaze snapped to their villain as the projectile exploded.
Another soared by, clinking and exploding in the villains face.
Lo and behold, another followed, knocking him prone upon the ground, grasping his cheek in astonishment.
Rock after rock launched into the poor villain until it almost seemed like he was the victim now.
The brothers were quick to get themselves unbound, assuming positions in the face of a new threat. As the barrage of rocks came to an end, everyone stared at the darkness with curiosity, awaiting the emergence of the new player.
And there, from the shadowy curtains—metaphorically, of course— steps out the heavy steps of a green-skinned creature. Small yet mighty, an orange magic crackled in your eyes that narrowed at the villain as though he were the prey and you, his pursuer. Taking in your attire, each brother exchanged looks with each other until they all mutually held their scrutinizing gaze upon the horrible-poker-face worn by the brother in blue.
As you set sights on tracing random digits upon the villain in question (totally not seeing what happens), a certain someone was being interrogated for 1.) why was he looking so suspicious and 2.) why hadn’t you vanished like the others summoned by his power.
“ How was I supposed to know they’d follow me! “
“ Followed?! When are they from!? “
“ I don’t know?! “
Soon you were pulled away by the brother in orange.
“ Easy now. “
Whispered he, curious as to why you hadn’t vanished, but Orange’s priority now was ending the …. Well, this might as well have just been a one sided battle by now. You kicked and squirmed, the darkness leaving your eyes as dopamine levels lowered from the rather… unheroic attack. As the biggest brother saw you being brought near, he sighed and gave Leo a look that had him hushing instantly.
“ Alright, first rule, stop beating up Sir Time. Second… “
The red stranger seemed to be looking for words when Leo placed his hand on his shoulder and stepped in front, extending a hand to you.
“ Second, thanks for the hand. And third, well.. “
“ Oh you can thank me later, once you take me back home! “
Your ears flicked with a remainder of chaotic energy, grinning at the port along somebody who you assumed would return you home now!
Wait.
Mother’s pot.
“ Actually, never mind, I’ll stay here. So what are you guys? The Northern Tribes? The Eastern Savages? Ooh! The Emerald Rowdies? “
As the confusion in their faces calmed you down, an unsettling feeling found home in your chest.
“ …? “
The neon lights and strange contraptions surrounding you stirred a sourness. Coming upon the rooftop’s edge, you peered down at passing cars and humans.
“ I’m … far from home, aren’t I? “
“ What? Pssh, noooo… “
The portaling yokai was sweating bullets under your glaring gaze. Great, far from home, and closer than necessary to a liar. The nervous look melted away after a few moments, followed by a defeated sigh as he leaned against the edge and gazed across the neon canvas of his city.
“ Yeah.. But, with how hard you took care of Mr. Villain back there, he should be up for returning you home. “
Leo nudged you with a grin that could only translate to “ that’s your cue to laugh. “ A few ticking moments passed before you returned the gesture, leaving behind a rock with a teensy digit glowing on it.
“ Wait, what’s this—“
“ Sure, but I’m crashing with you guys til he’s up! “
“ IS THIS GOING TO EXPLO—“
A teensy explosion, just enough to send him stumbling backwards. You’re getting good at controlling the power output!
I guess target practice paid off.
#tmnt x reader#rottmnt x reader#rise tmnt x reader#Leo x reader#platonic Leo x reader#rise Leo x reader#Leonardo x reader#rottmnt leo x reader#tmnt leo x reader#rise leonardo x reader#rottmnt leonardo x reader#rise tmnt leonardo x reader#tmnt leonardo x reader
82 notes
·
View notes
Text
Groupie Love
Chapter Three ✿ Break Through
My blog is 18+ only. Minors DNI. 🔞 Don’t repost my work anywhere.
Series Masterlist
Series Summary: Your best friend’s band has been taking off, ever since you’ve both started uni. But when you come back from a semester abroad, you find yourself confronted with both: Your lingering feelings for your best friend Eddie, and unexpected ones for their new drummer, Billy; someone you also have quite the past with…
Words: 7.3k
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader
Chapter Summary: You’re still mulling over the events of last night’s concert, when Eddie calls with some very exciting news. But things are hardly all rosy as your tensions with Billy keep rising, and so does the need to confront him about it.
Chapter Warnings: More tensions, secret mutual pining and some angst. The usual swearing and teasing. Some more confused and hurt feelings. Slightly suggestive stuff and very, very brief hints of Billy's past abuse.
A/N: I'm so sorry about getting this chapter out just now! Things have been a bit stressful lately, but with my semester break in full swing, I should be able to write a bit more frequently!
Previous Chapter
“Well, look who’s finally decided to join us from beyond the sleeping grave.” Robin observes teasingly, once she notices you making your way into the kitchen, steps lazy and still traced with sleep.
You try to think of some kind of cheeky reply, but you come up completely empty, safe for a small, acknowledging grumble.
You’ve been in better moods before, that’s for sure.
But then again, considering you barely slept last night, it’s bound to be reflected in your current emotional state.
And that one’s a mess.
After the events of last night’s concert, you had gone back home again with your cheerful friends, but no matter how much you tried to stay present and participate in their usual banter, your mind would keep drifting off.
To Billy.
Because of course it would.
The way he looked with those two women curled up on his lap has etched itself into your brain, and that’s where it’s been lingering ever since. Your mind even had the audacity to play that moment back, over again and again; and somehow it never became any less painful.
Though you’re not sure why it felt like such a punch to the gut in the first place. It’s not like you have any right to feel, well, whatever it is you’re currently feeling.
It’s not quite jealousy, you think, but it’s still unpleasant. A sick feeling in the depths of your stomach that keeps bubbling up in the confines of your chest with an intensity that threatens to almost swallow you whole.
Last night you went through the worst of it, now it’s just a bitter afterthought, but you’d be lying if you said that the whole situation didn’t keep you up all night.
Because never in a million years did you think you’d see him again.
Never in a million fucking years.
And you feel silly that his mere presence managed to bring all of these memories and feelings back up, the happy and hopeful ones, as well as all the pain he’s caused you.
He on the other hand, doesn’t seem to remember, or maybe he just doesn’t care. And you wish you could say the same. That you don’t care what his reasoning was, when he promised to keep in touch and then never delivered.
Not even once.
But to your dismay, you do care.
Like a lot.
A lot more than you should.
And so, there’s still an intense bitterness surrounding yours and Billy’s past, one that stains your heart and the insides of your chest with a heavy, unpleasant, and almost acidic feeling.
A feeling that burned itself deep into your soul.
A feeling, that made you turn over and over restlessly in your bed last night. Staring at the ceiling, blinking away hot, angry tears as you tried to find a sensible reason for everything that happened.
Because despite everything, despite all the hurt that that Californian boy caused you, there’s still a silly, tiny little part within you, holding out hope that this is all some kind of big misunderstanding.
That maybe Jonathan was right, and you got it all wrong or something.
It's wishful thinking, really.
Actually, it’s more wishing than it is thinking.
Wishing that there’s an understandable reason for Billy’s absence of letters, calls, and replies.
A reason that doesn’t involve the hurtful narrative of ‘he simply didn’t want you around anymore.’
A reason that’s not the bitter narrative of how he might have been secretly relieved that you left; or how he might’ve found a better replacement in someone else after you were gone, and he just didn’t need you in his life anymore.
Discarding you and your shared friendship aside for the love and care of another.
And the problem isn’t that he probably made new friends in your absence. No, you would have been quite happy about that, actually.
The issue lies in the fact that he just abandoned you. He could have made new friends and still kept in contact. Hell, you managed to do the same; befriending Chrissy and Eddie rather quickly but spending most of your nights during the first few months glued to your desk to write to him.
To Billy.
Telling him how much you missed him. How much you missed his bubbly laugh and bright smile, his teasing words, and cheeky remarks.
How you missed the little things, like the shared moments of you two lying on the pink, fluffy carpet in your bedroom together, listening to the latest Queen record that you kept stealing from your parents. And you couldn’t stop your fingers from tracing his face, trying to count his countless freckles.
You used to have the patience of an angel back then, and Billy never really had any patience at all, so trying to get him to keep still was a challenge. He would groan and complain about wanting to do something more fun, like startling seabirds at the docks, maybe, or racing you to the beach on your bikes; but he would still comply.
He would try his very best to stop fidgeting as you leaned over him, tiny, inked-stained fingers tracing his sun-kissed skin, eyebrows furrowed in an act of deep concentration, tongue poking out between your lips, as you tried your hardest not to lose count or accidentally count a freckle twice or something.
Yet despite your best efforts, you would always get distracted and fail somewhere along the traces of his tanned skin, but that never stopped you from trying over and over again; and Billy would let you.
He would gaze up at you, blue eyes wide and mesmerized by how gentle your touch could be.
A touch that would always stand in such stark contrast to that of his father with such an intensity, that he’s held on to that memory for years like a fucking lifeline when things got tough.
A memory he still goes back to even now.
But you didn’t know of its significance then, and you certainly do not know about it now.
No. Instead, you found your mind mulling over all the possible reasons for why Billy just ghosted you, and why you’re haunted by the lingering feelings of resentment and hurt even now, with so many years past.
You want to hate him, you think. But you hate yourself even more for still caring so much and for craving answers even after all this time.
Why can’t you just let it go?
Let it go and move on like Billy so obviously did.
But he’s also not the one hurting, you think.
You are.
But did he not miss you at all?
Not even a little bit?
Not even enough to write you a single, fucking letter?
You feel yourself getting choked up again, in the middle of your shared kitchen space, and it’s Chrissy’s touch that pulls you back to reality as she engulfs you in a big hug.
The troubles of last night must have been still etched on your face, clear to witness for your closest friends.
If you look only half as exhausted as you currently feel, you’re quite the sight to see, you’re sure of that.
“Rough night?” Heather summarizes with knowing eyes, and you just muster a faint nod.
“Not the best one.”
Your dry reply has Robin stifling a small chuckle, before she makes her way around the kitchen counter, joining Chrissy in the hug, and naturally Heather joins in too.
You find yourself melting into the warm embrace of your friends, as Chrissy gently strokes your shoulder.
“Is this still about Billy?” She questions, although you suspect she already knows the answer.
Everyone in this room probably does.
Nevertheless, you find yourself nodding, albeit reluctantly, because it somehow still feels so silly to admit.
It’s just some guy, for fucks sake.
A guy you barely know anymore.
And yet, he sure has your heart and mind in quite the headlock at the moment.
“Did you talk to him last night at all?” Heather questions carefully, “Jonathan mentioned something along those lines in passing to me, when I was looking for you.”
“No, I didn’t,” you admit, voice quiet. “I had planned on it, actually but then-“
Your mind drifts off back to last night’s memory of him being, well, otherwise occupied, once more, before stating, “I guess, I just didn’t.”
“Why not?” Chrissy’s voice is soft, but it seems clear to her that this wouldn’t be something you’d set your mind to and then just forget.
“Uh, he just seemed a bit busy and-“
“Oh yeah, right! He was totally making out with those two girls at once, wasn’t he. God, I swear the idiot does that at almost every other concert.” Robin chimes in, and Chrissy frowns.
“What?”
“Oh, you know Chris. He’s all lady’s man and rockstar vibes. I mean, It’s not like he had any troubles getting girls before he started to join the band, but now, well, let’s just put it that way: He definitely enjoys his growing popularity and the offer of a no-strings-attached kind of a night.”
The frown on Chrissy’s face only deepens at Robin’s words.
“Was that what you witnessed, too?” She directs her question back at you.
“Yeah,” you mumble, eyes suddenly trained on your bare feet, and the cold stone tiles of your shared kitchen floor. Your fingers can’t help but play with the hem of the oversized sweater that currently engulfs your body like a big, soft hug.
It’s Eddie’s, and you had thrown it on last night, after your 500th restless turn in your bed, unable to sleep and keep your thoughts from racing.
It proved itself to be the only thing that managed to calm you somewhat down. The gentle smell of him still lingering faintly on the dark fabric; and you can still smell traces of it, even now.
“And what happened then?”
“Nothing. I just didn’t really see or talk to him for the rest of the night after that. I mean, what else am I going to do? Walk up to him while he’s feeling up two girls and be like, ‘hey, you really hurt my feelings over 10 years ago. Care to explain’?”
The quiet huff that leaves your lips is bitter, but you follow it up with a simple shrug of your shoulders, trying to shake the lingering hurtful feelings off.
“It’s whatever. I’ll be over it in no time.”
But your friends look rather unconvinced, and you can’t blame them. You hardly believe the words coming out of your mouth either.
“I hate to point this out, but you’re going to see him a lot now.” Heather states, “I think getting some kind of closure would probably be beneficial for you both, really.”
“Yeah, well, I tried talking to him and-"
"Okay but maybe a setting that’s not the after show of a concert would be more fitting.” Robin points out, and to your dismay, she might be right.
“Okay, fine. I’ll try talking to him again, but-“
There’s a sudden and unpleasant thought that pushes itself into the forefront of your mind.
“What if he doesn’t want to talk to me?” You whisper.
Because in all honesty, Billy really didn’t give you the impression that he was particularly keen on talking to you last night, and you feel already hurt enough. You don’t need any fancy add-ons to that.
“Well, if he gives you any shit, we’re giving him shit right back!” Heather states determined, and while you appreciate your friends enthusiastic support, you hardly think that’s going to help with the potential hurt that another confrontation might ultimately cause.
But you suppose that not confronting him would possibly have the same outcome, too. Either way, it’s going to sting, but at least you’ll have some closure, if you did talk to him about it.
So, it’s decided then, in your mind, that you’re going to give it another chance, and confront Billy, given that the moment’s right.
But god knows when that’s going to be, and there’s a part within you that hopes that the answer to that will be never.
“Uh, not to be insensitive,” Robin suddenly chimes up, “But we were kind of in the midst of our breakfast preparations earlier, and, uh, maybe we can talk and finish those pancakes at the same time?” She offers, eyes both apologetic and hopeful.
“Fuck, pancakes do sound nice.” You admit with a smile, and it doesn’t take long for you four to get back into the tasks at hand.
As usual, it’s pure chaos adorned with lots of laughter and little quips.
Heather keeps stealing from the pile of strawberries you’re cutting, and Chrissy and Robin are in avid disagreement about whether they should be doing the pancake measurements by heart, or strictly with the guidance of your pink kitchen scale.
And for the moment, neither Eddie nor Billy cross your still confused mind.
When Billy steps foot through the front door of his shared apartment with Eddie, Steve and Argyle, the sun is already up in the sky, and he feels like absolute shit.
Probably looks like it too, he thinks.
He spend the first few early morning hours in the bed of two girls whose names he barely remembers. They did manage to distract him from certain things for a while. But once everything and everyone was done and satisfied, those thoughts and feelings kept coming back, and he just had to get out of there quickly.
But instead of driving home like he usually would, he found himself drifting without any real destination at all. It’s just him, his Camaro, some unknown road, and the deafening music blaring from his speakers. Driving like that normally helps him sort out his thoughts and feelings, but not this time around.
No, no matter how many turns he took, how much distance he tried to bring between himself and the city, and ultimately you too, there you still were, clinging to the forefront of his mind. Consuming him in ways, he didn’t even know were possible.
And he hated it.
He felt pathetic for the way you seemed to occupy his heart and mind, and try as he might to get you out of there, he just couldn’t.
Couldn’t stop thinking about you and Eddie, or the way you looked at him wide-eyed, with almost something like hurt written over the pretty features when you caught him with the two women on his lap.
But it must have been the shitty lighting deceiving him because there's just no way that you actually still care about him in any kind of capacity. Not after the things you did, and the way you moved on so clearly without a single, second thought.
Billy decided then and there to just keep driving, until the sun started coming up, and he made his way back home again, reluctantly.
Home.
A silly word for the place he currently resides in, but it probably is the most home he ever felt since California and losing his mom and, well, you.
He would never admit it out loud, but the roommate trio of Steve, Eddie and Argyle has been slowly growing on him.
They’re chaotic and they’re dumb and sometimes more than a little bit irritating, but they’re also not half as bad as he’s been initially expecting.
And there’ve been quite a few times where he’s found himself joking around with them, completely at ease, carefree, and without any real hostility or bite.
Billy enjoys those moments quite a bit, and a lot more than he might lead on. Because despite all the chaos, that place is a lot calmer than his family home.
And even when some disagreements do arise, they’re resolved in constructive ways, and not just by yelling, throwing things or swinging punches.
He still finds himself flinching occasionally when Steve calls his name rather loudly from the kitchen, scolding Billy lightly for forgetting to take care of his dirty dishes or leaving empty beer cans flying around again.
But it’s never more than a “Dude, seriously, we talked about this…” And maybe an annoyed glare or something along those lines. It certainly is nothing like it’s been with his dad.
And Billy finally has a place and the space to breathe, and to do things without the kind of repercussions that leave his skin littered with blue and violet outlines or scars, and to him that’s everything.
So, yeah, he quite likes the apartment he now gets to call home, even if those words still feel foreign on his lips.
Even when Argyle’s repeated Pass the Dutchie song has been going on his last nerve, or worse, Steve’s Olivia Newton-John and Cyndi Lauper record collection.
He and Eddie actually tried to hide them once. But for some reason, despite their best efforts, Steve still managed to find them effortlessly and managed to play them twice as loud, just to annoy the two obvious culprits for their dumb prank.
And while Billy was lying on his bed, rolling his eyes in displeasure at the sound of Cyndi Lauper’s raspy voice, twirling one of his drumsticks around absentmindedly, he found himself softly humming along to All through the night.
It’s not something he would ever tell anyone, but in the small confines of his bedroom, a space that’s so utterly his now, without the shadow and threat of his father looming over his shoulder, he feels safe enough to just be.
And sometimes that means humming along to a Cyndi Lauper song you normally swear you hate.
“I don’t think that’s how the song goes. It’s more of a, oh, hey Billy!”
He’s greeted by Jonathan and Steve, who are sitting in their open kitchen, noticing his presence quickly when he makes his way through the entrance, and Billy silently curses the layout of the apartment once again.
Slipping away unnoticed into his bedroom is hard enough with at least 3 constant presences around most of the time, but with the way the apartment is set up, it’s even more of a struggle, and he hates it.
“Wait, why are you guys up already?” He questions with a grumble, and both Jonathan and Steve give him confused looks, before Steve states, “Uh, buddy it’s like almost 11, why shouldn’t we be up? And where are you even coming from exactly? Because you kind of look like shit and-“
“Why don’t you come sit down and have something to eat?” Jonathan interrupts his friend quickly, patting the funky barstool next to him.
At the sight of the baked goods sitting on the kitchen island, Billy’s initial intention of making a straight beeline to his bedroom wavers, and he nods his head with a shrug.
Fuck it, why not.
“Jonathan was nice enough to pick a few things up from that new bakery two blocks down.” Steve explains, voice a lot brighter than Billy currently feels, even at the prospect of a nice breakfast right there in front of him.
The two boys keep talking, while Billy munches down on some doughnuts. He’s hardly listening or paying attention at all, so he doesn’t notice the occasional side glances Jonathan throws his way, or the slightly concerned look swimming in his eyes.
“Have you been out all night?” He questions once Billy seems to have finished his fourth or fifth doughnut.
“Yeah,” Billy mutters, while whipping some powdered sugar from the corner of his mouth.
“You’re telling me you’ve been with last night's babes the whole time?” Steve adds, wide eyes searching Billy’s, and voice a little impressed.
“What?”
Billy’s been slurping down some of the coffee Jonathan offered him, too, and he needs a moment to realize what Steve’s talking about.
For a brief moment, he thinks about lying.
He could just say, ‘yeah, sure,’ and that would probably be the end of that. But for some reason that doesn’t feel right. Not when he’s been gradually and ever so slowly making friends with those guys.
So, he just shakes his head, mumbling a quick and quiet, “No.”
“Huh, so where have you been exactly?” Steve keeps questioning, curiosity clear in his voice, and with another sigh, Billy mutters, eyes averted, “Just driving.”
If the answer surprises Steve, his face doesn’t show it. Instead, he just nods his head, seemingly understanding.
“Ah, I see.” He simply states, and he’s about to ask another follow-up question when the ringing of the phone startles all three of them.
“Oh, I’ll get that!” Steve chirps, before swiftly getting up and hurrying into the hallway, where their shared phone resides.
Things are silent for a moment after that, and Billy’s about to say a small ‘Thank you’ to Jonathan, but the usually quiet boy beats him to it.
“Have you talked to her?” He questions, and Billy’s so surprised, he feels like he needs to steady himself, gripping the edge of the island counter slightly.
“What?” He barks, because if Jonathan is talking about who he thinks he is, he definitely needs to back off.
But Jonathan says your name like it’s nothing.
Like it doesn’t have the weight of the world added to it.
Like its significance isn’t so heavy, it renders Billy’s tongue completely immobile and speechless.
Jonathan’s hazel eyes are now transfixed on Billy, and he finds himself gulping hard.
Why does it seem like that guy knows something he himself doesn’t?
“What are you talking about, Byler?” He huffs, but the anger in his voice isn’t really anger. It’s irritation and confusion, and, while Billy would never admit it, it’s also fear.
Because the last thing he wants is for the other guys to find out is how hungover he still is over you.
They’re going to think he’s pathetic, and that’s so not how he wants to be perceived. The fact that he’s still hurt by the things you did over a fucking century ago, is definitely not something he wants to share with the group, or anyone for that matter.
“I think you heard me just right, Hargrove.”
Jonathan’s voice is eerily calm. Or maybe it’s not eerily, Billy thinks. Maybe Jonathan always talks like that, but it still makes the small seed of unease in the pit of his stomach grow into something bigger.
Because there’s an implication that Jonathan’s making, like he should be talking to you.
Like there’s something of significance to discuss, something unspoken that needs to be addressed; and he hates it, not just because it’s probably true, but because Jonathan of all people seem to know about it, and it makes Billy question what exactly you’ve been telling your friends about him.
Or why you would talk to them about him in the first place, really.
It just doesn’t make any sense in his mind.
He’s no one to you. You made that quite clear, didn’t you?
But instead of bringing any of his irritations up, he decides to play dumb.
“Why would I be talking to her?” He questions, and Jonathan just gives him a disbelieving huff.
“Why wouldn’t you want to talk to her? You used to be best friends from what I’ve gathered.”
“Yes, well, we were best friends, ages ago. But I hardly know her now and-“
“Okay, but wouldn’t you want to get to know her again? Wouldn’t you want to catch up with her, find out how she’s been, what she’s been up to, anything?”
Jonathan interrupts him, and there’s something in his hazel eyes now that makes parts of Billy’s mind pause and spin at the same time, because there’s something earnest and almost urgent in them.
“What has she been telling you?” Billy finds himself whispering.
Oh god, he thinks, maybe you actually really hate him. Maybe you’ve been thinking he was weak and annoying from the start. Maybe after making new, and much cooler friends you’ve been resenting him for all the trauma he’s been dumping on you when you two were younger.
You were always taking care of him then, and maybe having new and somewhat more normal friends made you realize just how much of a drag your friendship with Billy really had been.
Billy hates to think how you might resent him so much now, that you actually want him out of your group of friends as soon as possible.
And it leads him to think that you might have been telling Jonathan some really ugly shit about him, in the hopes of trying to turn each of your closest friends against him.
It would be a complete 180 of your character for sure, but then again, he doesn’t really know you anymore, so-
“I think it’s best if you just talked to her about it yourself.” Jonathan states, pulling Billy back from his spinning and racing thoughts.
“Yeah, well I think this situation is entirely none of your business and I don’t know what she told you but-“
The bitterness that Billy’s been trying to hold back is now finally slipping through, but before he can finish his sentence, he’s disrupted by Steve’s sudden appearance and even more by his fucking yelling.
“Guys! Guys! You’re not going to believe this.” He exclaims, voice overflowing with excitement, and Billy and Jonathan just look at him dumbfounded because they need at least a little bit more informing in order to figure out what the hell Steve’s talking about.
“You’re not going to believe who just called us! I swear to god and every entity in the universe, this might be the best day of my life!”
“Steve, Steve, slow down! Who called?” Jonathan asks, trying to keep up with his friend.
“Mike! Mike called, can you believe it and-“
“Wait, Mike, the Wheeler kid?” Billy inquires utterly confused.
“What? No, of course not the Wheeler kid!” Steve huffs, almost offended.
“No, it’s Mike Milcher! You know the Mike Milcher.”
When his two friends just keep looking at him, completely clueless, Steve can’t help but sigh.
“You know, Mike Milcher from Capitol Records?”
This time both of the boys heads perk up.
“What?” Billy asks, disbelief written all over his sun-kissed features.
“Why would-“Billy doesn’t even dare to finish that sentence because there’s no way.
No fucking way.
“Yes!” Steve squeals, already suspecting where Billy might be going with this.
“They want to sign us to a FUCKING RECORD LABEL!”
There’s a displeased huff coming from the hallway at Steve’s outburst, and the brunette tries to lower his voice at least slightly.
“They want to sign us to a fucking record label.” He whispers, as if there was any chance that Jonathan and Billy missed those words the first time around.
“Eddie’s still on the phone with Mike, I think. Or maybe he’s already calling the girls because Robin obviously also needs to know, but, yeah, they actually want to meet us and-“
“Harrington,” Billy whispers, with a slight edge to his voice, “Is this some kind of dumb prank? Because I swear to god if it is I’ll-“
“It’s not a prank.” Steve reassures quickly, hands held up in a placid gesture.
“I promise it’s not. This isn’t something I’d joke about, certainly not like that! Besides-“
“We should really be getting ready.”
Eddie’s voice suddenly cuts through the kitchen space, and the smile that’s on his face is so bright and earnest that all previous doubts are surrendering in Billy’s mind.
Fuck, there’s no way.
“Are you-“
“For real? Yeah, Hargrove, I sure am! Mike Milcher wants to fucking sign us for Capital Records. He apparently saw our performance last night and now he wants to meet us and talk!”
The excitement in the room is almost tangible, and Billy has to stifle the urge to jump off his bar stool and join Steve in the little excited dance, that the brunette is currently performing enthusiastically.
God, this is an absolute dream come true for everyone. Even Jonathan is beyond excited, and he’s not even part of the band.
“Where’s Argyle? Because we definitely need to tell him too!”
That’s true, especially since he’s the unofficial fifth member of the group, playing the keyboard occasionally.
It’s not often, but some of Steve’s songs (derogatory) have a more typical 80s sound. And while both Eddie and Billy had been adamantly against the incorporation of any kind of synths at first, both of them had to fold eventually; and that’s where Argyle comes in, with a helping hand. Or two.
“Isn’t he down by the botanical garden again?” Steve suggests, and that assessment makes sense for everybody, so they decide to go and try to pick him up first, before meeting up with you and the rest of the girls.
“Geez, you really look like shit, Hargrove.” Eddie points out with a playful shove, while they’re all putting on their shoes in the hallway. “Did those girls really keep you up all night?”
Billy just grumbles something unintelligible in return, but the dark-haired metalhead isn’t done with his teasing yet.
“Shit, isn’t this the same stuff you’ve been wearing yesterday?”
“Since when are you part of the fucking fashion police, Munson.” Billy bites back, though there’s hardly any venom in his words, and Jonathan and Steve just roll their eyes at their usual banter.
Even in a one-of-a-kind situation like this, they still manage to push each other’s buttons, albeit rather jokingly.
You’re the first one to notice the boys stepping into the small café you all agreed to meet at.
You can’t quite refrain yourself from jumping off from your current seat, at the sight of Eddie, and running up to him excitedly.
Each and every one of the girls has been buzzing with anticipation and joy, ever since Eddie delivered the incredible news barely half an hour ago via telephone.
Robin’s especially antsy, but that was to be expected. She’s been playing with the strings of her hooded jacket nervously, tugging on one end, and then on the other one repeatedly.
But that’s hardly on your mind when you jump up into Eddie’s arms, hugging him tightly.
You’ve already told him over the phone how excited you were for him and his band, but you repeat those words over and over again, while you hold your best friend as close as you possibly can.
“I’m so, so happy for you, Eds!” You mumble against the nape of his neck.
“Thank you,” he whispers, voice a little emotional, but it’s quickly followed up by the more somber statement, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, though. We haven’t even talked or signed any contracts yet.”
“Yes, but you will be!”
Your current excitement is hard to curb. Especially considering that you’ve seen Eddie be so passionate about music from a young age. Last night’s concert had already been a dream come true, but this right now carries an even bigger significance.
“Either way, I’m so proud of you!”
Eddie feels himself smiling against your shoulder at your earnest words. and he can practically feel the blush creeping up his cheeks at your continuous praises.
Celebrations are definitely in order, that much is clear, and when the lot of you make their way back to your current spot in the café, there are a lot of hugs and congratulations and excited yelps and squeals.
Steve’s even planning some elaborate party for one of the upcoming nights, something that Eddie can’t help but scoff at.
They haven’t even talked in person to the guy from the record label yet. And while that Mike Mlicher had seemed quite adamant about his interest, Eddie doesn’t want to get his hopes up too much. Things can still change, and even the greatest plans can fall through, so he really tries to be careful with the amount of joy he currently lets himself feel and show.
The only person whose emotions seem to be at least a little bit dulled too, are Billy’s. It doesn’t really surprise Eddie, and he’s glad that there’s at least one more person around, that still has both feet planted securely on the grounds of reality, unlike everyone else, who’s chatting excitedly about the latest developments.
“You’re also having your doubts?” He questions, looking at Billy, brown eyes big, and understanding.
“What?”
Billy’s been so caught up in his own little thought carousel, he didn’t even notice Eddie eyeing him for the last few minutes, and he certainly doesn’t know what that guy’s talking about.
“You’re the only other one, who isn’t up and arms about the exciting news. It’s hard to believe it’s true, isn’t it? Almost too good to be true. I think I’ll only really believe it once I have it black on white.”
Oh, he’s talking about the contract thing. Yeah, sure, that’s a little bit difficult to wrap one’s mind around. But that’s not what’s currently on Billy’s; No, what’s actually on his mind is sitting a few seats across from him, eyes and smile bright, and voice beyond cheery.
Of course, he considers the record company’s offer as quite exciting, and Eddie isn’t wrong either; Billy also feels like he needs to curb his joyous feelings, because things can always go south, and he isn’t a stranger to broken promises.
No, he thinks, glancing over at you once more, watching the laughing lines crinkle around your eyes in unfiltered glee, as you playfully slap Chrissy’s shoulder; No, he certainly isn’t a stranger to that at all.
Eddie watches Billy’s face fall, for no apparent reason, or at least none that he can think of, and there’s a small voice inside him that’s growing slightly concerned.
The hushed question of, “Are you okay?” falls from his lips before he can even think too much about it.
It takes Billy a moment to realize that Eddie’s gentle words were directed towards him, and he tries to brush him off quickly.
“Yeah, yeah, Munson. Don’t worry about it. It’s just been a long day, okay?”
“But it’s not even lunch time yet.” Eddie observes, slightly confused, until he suddenly remembers something.
“Right, you were with those two ladies all night, weren’t you?”
But instead of a boastful smile, all that Billy’s lips can muster is a little sigh, and an almost displeased frown.
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Wait, so you weren’t with those ladies then?”
“Does it matter, Munson?”
That answer surprises Eddie. He was sure Billy would have at least something crude to say about his last-night-activities.
“Uh, I guess not. But isn’t the whole ladies-thing like, part of your personality by now?”
This time, it’s Billy’s turn to be stumped.
It kind of is a part of him, isn’t it?
Maybe not a part of his personality, he thinks, but certainly part of his brand.
But as of late, he’s been secretly disliking that whole reputation. It’s his own fucking fault, though, and he knows it.
He used to boast about getting laid quite a lot when he was younger. Maybe because he deemed those things more significant then, or maybe because he valued the respect he got from it quite a bit more.
It certainly seemed like a win-win-win situation back then.
Getting desired, and sought out and after by women, getting the approving clap on his back by his so-called friends, both real and metaphorically speaking, and getting the ultimate confidence boost because of it all.
But lately that whole appeal has been fading.
There’s been a steadily growing voice inside of him, that’s been a bit more critical about those habits and the underlying motivations behind it, and truth be told, they’re hardly healthy.
It’s an unpleasant confrontation, to think about the fact that he’s been using sex as a way to distract himself from feeling inadequate, worthless, or empty, rather than as the fun pass-time-activity that it’s supposed to be.
Instead, it just serves him as both, a quick distraction, and a fill for something he’s been craving all his life: The simple feeling of being desired and wanted.
And people want him, because he has a reputation; because he can serve as a handsome distraction from a boring marriage; because being able to say that you’ve been with him, is somehow newsworthy material.
And being wanted like that, even if it’s short-lived, even if it’s shallow, even if it’s selfish, and for all the wrong reasons, well, at least he’s being wanted at all.
But he’s never been wanted for who he is, only ever for who he’s being perceived as, and lately that hurts.
So, he’s been trying to slow that tendency down; get a hold of it; stop it.
But old habits sure die hard, and whenever he finds himself in emotional turmoil - which unfortunately is rather often - it’s easy to slip right back into it for a night; and maybe the next one, and the next one, and the next one right after that, too.
But he sure as hell can’t tell any of that to Munson, now, can he?
Instead, he simply shrugs his shoulders and tries to play it off.
Eddie, however, has the unfortunate ability to pick up on people’s discomfort, and Billy’s performance is hardly convincing, yet he lets it slide for now.
If Billy wants to talk about whatever is currently troubling his mind, he’ll seek Eddie out himself.
When there’s one thing he’s learned about Billy so far, it’s that pestering him about opening up rarely works.
But that doesn’t stop Eddie from wanting to help and cheer up his rather new, and still somewhat closed-off friend.
So, when he notices Billy’s repeated looks in your direction, an idea forms in his head. That guy probably wants to talk to you, he thinks, but the current seating distance between you two makes it too difficult.
Eddie’s here to help, though, and without any warnings, he calls your name loud and quickly, while gesturing his hand in a come here motion.
The look you give him turns from a bright-eyed smile to one of slight confusion. Especially once he scoots out of his current seat next to Billy, and offers that one to you instead.
“Thought you guys might wanna talk.”
There’s no malicious undertones in his voice. No teasing traces, or hints at the fact that he might know anything about your current tensions.
God bless, Chrissy thinks to herself, as she watches the interaction play out, and Eddie makes his way cheerfully towards her.
“Didn’t even need God to swap our places.” He jokes once you pass him. The pained smile you give him might have concerned him in a different scenario, but right now he just takes it as some lingering awkwardness you probably still harbor towards Billy.
The two of you sure have a lot of catching up to do, he thinks.
Come to think of it, he certainly does as well. Because you still haven’t really told him all that much about your relations to that guy, and Billy’s certainly been dead silent about you too; but now that he’s sitting down next to Chrissy, that’s not going to be a problem for much longer. She can fill him in on the scoops of everything that he missed last night.
“So, Chrissy,” he starts, as he leans over to the pretty blonde, who’s still trying to steal quick glances from you and Billy. “How exactly do those two idiots know each other again?”
This has to be hell, you think, as you slide onto the seat next to Billy.
When you said you would consider talking to him once the moment’s right, this was not the moment you imagined.
“Uh, hey,” you mumble, eyes suddenly a lot more interested in the swirly pattern of the cushions, and Billy’s swift answer is something you can only interpret as a brief acknowledging grunt, and then that’s it.
Great.
“Uhm, congratulations about the record deal. I mean, I know you haven’t signed anything yet, but that’s still quite exciting.”
“Yeah.”
So far, you haven’t even looked at him once, eyes instead trained on where you’re currently twirling one of your rings nervously around a finger.
There’s no words you can think of saying, and you don’t have the strength to glance up at the man in question either.
If you did though, you would’ve seen that Billy’s also looking anywhere but you; the loose fray strings of his jean-jacket suddenly the focal point of his universe.
You two just sit there quietly, letting the awkward silence consume you, as you both try to think of anything to say, that doesn’t end with an accusatory ‘Why did you leave me.’
Or abandon me, or hurt me, or forget me – just like that.
Was it easy at all?
Did I ever cross your mind?
Thoughts are plenty, but words aren’t.
At least none that you can muster saying out loud.
And so, silence it is.
With the current busyness of the table, that doesn’t really seem to stand out, and you even manage to drown out your bitter thoughts with Argyle's contagious laughter in the background for a short moment or two; Until the lingering silence between you and Billy grows so increasingly heavy, that the weight of it becomes almost unbearable on both of your minds.
Somehow there’s a topic change at the table, as Eddie voices his small, lingering doubts about the exciting offer, and everyone tries to ease his worries quickly and with much determination.
“Why would that Milcher guy be so adamant about wanting to sign you, and then not follow through, that wouldn’t make any sense, now would it?” You offer softly, and Billy just scoffs.
“Wouldn’t you be an expert on that.”
He mumbles with a bitter huff, voice loud enough for you to hear, but quiet enough to not draw anyone else’s attention.
What?
You feel your stomach hover in freefall, before dropping down quickly.
What is that guy even talking about, you think, but you’re too stumped to say anything.
Too stumped by the realization that he’s apparently angry with you.
You, for whatever reason.
And isn’t that rather bold coming from him of all people; like he has a leg to stand on after the way he hurt you.
Feeling anger bubble up inside of you too, now; you’re about to give that asshole a piece of your mind, because you’re not letting him get away with taunting you like that, that’s for sure.
But before you get the chance to even open your mouth, and let years of anger and resentment tumble out from between your lips, Steve suddenly calls out:
“Ah, shit! It’s almost 1:30! We really should be leaving, like, right now.”
There’s an on slew of, oh fuck’s and hurry up, guys! and good luck wishes, before you watch your five friends make their way hastily towards the exit.
You silently hope that they’ll make it to the meeting in time, without being late, yet you’re also still agitated from that weird interaction with Billy, mere minutes ago.
And as your eyes follow your friends, rushing quickly through the door, Billy is the only one to turn around one last time.
And for a brief second, you see the silently simmering anger in your eyes be reflected in his, as your gaze finds his in the crowded space of the small café.
It feels like déjà vu, you think, thoughts drifting back to last night’s interaction.
Only that this time around you don’t feel sick to your stomach.
Instead, there’s an untamed anger swirling around in the confines of your chest now.
One, you feel quite determined and justified to release the next time you cross paths with a certain Californian guy.
Oh, he’s definitely getting a piece of your mind when you see him again.
Next Chapter
_______________
And that’s it! If you made it this far, thank you!!
I know this chapter has been quite Billy-heavy, but I promise Eddie is also going to have his time to shine! Probably not the next chapter, though, because Billy and the reader will be finally having their much needed talk then!
Also, in terms of my uploading schedule, I want to give a small heads-up. I know I said that I’ll try to keep a weekly schedule, but that’s currently not really sustainable for me, unfortunately. I’m obviously still writing for this story, but there’s not going to be a super consistent schedule for it.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson#eddie munson imagine#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove x you#billy hargrove fanfiction#billy hargrove imagine#billy hargrove#billy hargrove fluff
81 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sing To Me (Rise Version)
(My personal head canon is that all the Leos love country music and will unironically blast it in the lair when their brothers are away).
(I wrote a 2k16 version of Leo).
Summary: Leo will die if his brothers find out he listens to country music. He's willing to keep it till the grave.
Warnings: Some swearing, Y/n uses she/her, personal head canons, fluff
To say it was embarrassing was an understatement; if Donnie found out that Leo like country music, he wouldn't hear the end of it. Yet, here he was, alone in the lair. Leo was still healing from the Kraang fight; having to take a lot of damage in the Prison Dimension. It took months for Leo to convince Raph that he was okay on his own.
Leo bounced his foot against the concrete as music flowed from his speakers. Leo hated cleaning, it was one of his least favorite activities, but he had nothing else to do. He needed to get his mind off of the memories that plagued his mind. So, music blasting in the background as his hands roamed around his room and put things into drawers.
---
You've been friends with the turtles for years. It wasn't long after April met them; being friends, April trusted you with the greatest secret known to man.
Your footsteps echoed off the sewer walls as you arrived in the lair; Raph called, saying that they left Leo alone and wanted you to keep him company. You immediately agreed to it; Leo was your friend; you'd do anything for him.
You approached the lair, shock running through your bones as you heard loud music originating from Leo's room. It wasn't the typical music he'd listen to either. Was this country?
You snuck your way near the door of the abandoned subway cart; you saw Leo moving around his room while singing. You lean against the entrance, smiling as Leo spun around his room. He stopped short; he saw your body in the corner of his eye.
His face felt like a million degrees as he turned to you, "Hey, what's up?" he asked, trying to be nonchalantly as possible.
"Since when do you listen to country music?"
"Uh...awhile," crashed to his knees. "Please, Y/n, don't tell Donnie, I hear the end of it!" he begged, "I'll do anything, anything!"
"How about a dance?" he paused,
"Huh?"
"Take it or leave it," he swallowed.
"Sure," you were only fucking with him. This is pay back for all the shit he's done to you, right?
Nervously, Leo wrapped his arm around your waist, the music changed, "Can you sing again? I really liked it."
"You liked my singing?"
"Uh-huh," okay. Now, he was definitely dreaming. Okay, this is okay, if it is a dream then why not, sure. Come on, Nardo, you're the Face-man! Do what you do best and sweep her off her feet.
"I'm booking myself a one-way flight; I gotta see the color in your eyes. Telling myself I'm going to alright, without you, Baby, is a waste of time. Yeah, our first date, Girl, the seasons change, it got washed away in the summer rain. You can't undo a fall like this, cause love don't know what distance is. Yeah, I know that's crazy." he chuckled, "But I don't want good, and I don't want good enough; I want, can't sleep, can't breathe, without your love!"
You stare into Leo's big obsidian eyes; you felt your heart race. "Front porch and one more kiss; it doesn't make sense to anybody else. Who cares if you're all I think about? I searched the world and I know now, it ain't right if you ain't lost your mind! Yeah, I don't want easy, I want crazy! Are you with my, Baby? Let's be crazy!" He laughs along with you, "Well, I don't wanna be scared; don't wanna know why. Wanna feel good, don't have to be right; the world makes all kinds of rules for love; I say you gotta let it do what it does! I don't want just another hug and a kiss good night!"
"Catchin' up calls and a date, sometimes I love that we're rebels, and we still believe; We're the kind of crazy people wish that they could be, and I know we're crazy, yeah! But I don't want good, and I don't want good enough; I want, can't sleep, can't breathe without your love! Front porch and one more kiss; it doesn't make sense to anybody else! Who cares if you're all I think about? I've searched the world and I know now, it ain't right if you ain't lost your mind; yeah, I don't want easy, I want crazy! Are you with me, Baby? Let's be crazy!"
Your bodies dances together, almost harmoniously. Your arms were tight around his neck as he spun you around his room, his hands tight on your hips.
"No, I don't want good, and I don't want good enough; I want, can't sleep, can't breathe without your love! Front porch and one more kiss; it doesn't make sense to anybody else! Who cares if you're all I think about? I've searched the world and I know now, it ain't right if you ain't lost your mind; yeah, I don't want easy, I want crazy; Yeah, look at us baby; tonight, the midnight rules are breaking. There's no such thing as wild enough, maybe we just think too much. Who needs to play it safe in love? Let's be crazy! Who cares if we're crazy? We gotta be crazy; I know that we're crazy, so let's be crazy, yeah!"
You covered your mouth as Leo felt like he was on cloud nine. He pulled you so close to his chest while dancing, he didn't realize how bold he was being. Leo swallowed thickly as he stared down at your lips, you stop laughing and look at him.
Both hearts racing in sync. Leo pulls you closer, his lips softly pressed against your own. It was unsure, you hum against his lips as you press forward. Leo smiled against the kiss before pulling away.
"I told you I could sweep you off your feet," he chuckled.
"Yeah, yeah; whatever you say," you whisper. Another song came on; he began singing again.
"Duffle bag, backseat; my dash, your feet. Those other side of the highway, headlights making you shine." You thought why not to join,
"My hand, your leg; playlist, playing; even though I haven't made it yet; I'd draggin it, droppin it, in my mind. You're a drive real slow; down no lane road; to a house on a hill where the wild things grow! You're a wake up in pajamas; not a trace of makeup on ya! You're a help fix her it; having breakfast with my mama; you're a take back home, home, home girl! Home, home, home girl; take back home, home, home girl; home, home, home girl!"
You started, "You're the kind I wanna take a ride with; sit by on a Friday night! In the stadium; lights side by side. All the lady's like, Yeah, she's doing just fine."
Your smile as Leo joined back in, "Everybody in the bleachers; they all gon' wanna meet ya from my teachers to my preacher! My little crowd pleaser; parading with you feeling homecoming cool, yeah! I wanna drive real slow, down a no name road; to a house on a hill, where the wild things grow! You're a wakeup in pajamas; not a trace of makeup on ya! You're a help her fix it; having breakfast with my mama! You're a take back home, home, home girl! Home, home, home girl; take back home, home, home girl; home, home, home girl!"
You gasp as Leo pressed you closer to his plastron, "You're a take back; You're a take back! You're a take back home; you're a take back home! You're a take back home girl. You got that down home homegrown, found on good ground soul; that down home homegrown, found on good ground soul. You're a drive real slow, down a no name road to a house on a hill, where the wild things grow! You're a wakeup in pajamas; no trace of makeup on ya. you're a help her fit it; breakfast with my mama! You're a take back home, home, home girl; home, home, home girl; take back home, home, home girl; home, home, home girl! You're a take back; you're a take back; you're a take back home; you're a take back home! you're a take back home; you're a take back home."
Chewing on your lips, Leo smiled, "Who knew you could sing?" You scoff,
"You're better."
"As much as I agree with you; you're not too bad yourself." You blush, as Leo pulled you over to the bed.
"Can I just lay on you?" he asked, you nod. His head pressed against your chest; you hum softly to him as you scratched his shell. It wasn't long before Leo fell asleep with you in his arms; unwilling to let go.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Songs used:
I Want Crazy (Encore)--Hunter Hayes
Take Back Home Girl--Chris Lane ft. Tori Kelly
#x reader#fanfic#reader insert#fanfiction#tmnt leonardo#rise of the tmnt#music fic#leonardo#rise leo#teenage mutant ninja turtles#head cannons
10 notes
·
View notes
Note
as a non-western and non-native english speaker, there are lots of things that millions of people think is common knowledge for everyone but to me isn't. some i even have to unpack and unlearn all by myself as i grow up and learn more and more.
she grew up in a country that has lots of sw*stika plastered around, there's even one right in front of the current jyp building, because hinduism is big in korea. whilst she probably does know issues abt the WWII (i mean, korea is still split if half bcs of it) and the n*z*s, i would get why she was desensitized with the symbol.
please note that i do not condone her actions nor ask you (or anyone for that matter) to forgive her because what she did was really hurtful esp since she's an influential celeb. im also not asking you or even other writers to write her again but at least see where she's coming from.
i don’t know how to tell you this but i quite literally do not care if she had no idea or was desensitized or whatever. not having ill intent doesn’t mean harm isn’t done. that symbol and the ideology behind it was part of a mass genocide event that has devastated the jewish population even to this day. the rhetoric from said mass genocide is still prevalent in society and antisemitism is consistently rising year after year after year, with violent attacks on synagogues happening more and more regularly, some of which happened to people i attend shabbos services with. when i went to rosh hashanah and yom kippur services last year we had to have security at every single entrance and you couldn’t even get in to the service if you hadn’t pre registered because of how dangerous it is. so i really do not care about her lack of education. the impact was the same. especially from her place as an influential celebrity, on tour in america, visiting a jewish owned business from what i hear. it’s unacceptable, regardless of intent.
not to mention, the shirt she had on did not have a swastika in the hinduism context. it was specifically the antisemitic, nazi hate symbol. it was also a very rare shirt she seemingly had to hunt pretty hard to find. and again, anything that looks even emotely like a nazi hate symbol, most jews are running in the other direction. because it is terrifying, and oftentimes means violence. this is so far beyond kpop drama, this has real world implications i don’t think many people are trying to understand.
she will never be in my good graces again. and if her “apology” was genuine, she would fully understand that. not that i think she gives a fuck about my opinion or anyone else’s, but someone who has done something bigoted (intentionally or not) and apologized should never be expecting forgiveness from the marginalized community they harmed. that defeats the purpose of the apology.
i know you mean well, and i’m not saying that nothing you have to say has merit, but i’m just trying to put this in perspective for you as well. the shoah and the imagery associated with it have grave connotations for not only jewish people, but many other groups impacted as well. one little apology cannot undo that damage.
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
They awake to the sound of singing. A soft and mournful tune, more of a spell really. Melantha would sing it to them whenever they'd get hurt.
Melantha. The train of delegates. The ceremony.
Their eyes fly open. The muscles in their abdomen tense in a feeble attempt to help them rise, but a wave of pain, and a gentle hand, stays them. With a groan, they fall back into their nest, panting.
Nest?
Their eyes dart around the room in an attempt to make sense of their surroundings. They’re in a medical bay, one of the private ones Starscream makes use of in Iacon's upper district, but instead of laying on a metal slab, they find that they're suspended, gently hammocked, in a web made from another's silk.
Familiar golden eyes stare down at them.
"Mel?" they rasp, throat dry from lack of use and moisture.
She gently shushes them and rests the back of her long black digits against a violet cheek. "I thought we'd lost you again," she intones in their native tongue.
It surprises Blackarachnia, how easily they can slip back into it despite having spoken neo-cybex and nothing but for the last four million years. "What happened? Why are you still here?" They pale. "Is Starscream alright? Is spark zero?" They list off a few more names, before Melantha lays a finger to their lips.
"Rest. Speak only when necessary. I will explain."
It, apparently, was a very poorly planned assassination, and one that was in very poor taste. He was swiftly disarmed and apprehended, but not before one shot left the barrel. It was meant for the Lord Chancellor, but it hit them instead.
Scalpel helped stabilise them for transport while Kalamity placated the crowds, and Melantha and Akantha had been taking turns giving them some herbal remedies and helping them feel comfortable.
“That rusty blade doesn't know everything about us, you know," Melantha adds with a soft huff.
Blackarachnia’s hackles rose. "Yes,” they retort with a glare, “but he's defended me in situations far more dangerous than this. And he is my tribe-brother."
Melantha's eyes widen with understanding. "The marking of the Web on his arm... our language—“
"He has undergone the rite. I had no doubt that he would take care of me. You, however--" Their scarlet eyes peer into the other's own. "Why seek me out now? Why stay? After Chela's death, after my own flight, I thought you'd be furious."
Melantha smiles sadly. "Do you think so little of me?"
"Tch. Well, you were always Mother's favourite."
A flinch, but the elder says nothing. She merely offers a gourd full of something sweet-smelling. Blackarachnia wants to refuse out of spite, but their throat hurts too much for that. They take an experimental sip before taking a few larger gulps. Nectar. A delicacy from their hive-dwelling cousins. Also a surefire way to ease any aching throat.
"Why stay?" Blackarachnia murmurs, wiping the back of their mouth with their inner wrist.
Melantha sighs, secondary legs twitching. "Perhaps... to atone. You were always the strongest and bravest of us, Pro-- Blackarachnia. You stood up to Mother. You reached for the stars. You gave of yourself for the betterment of others, while I-- well, I was terrified, even of getting between her and you.
I heard your cries in the cave, after she dragged you away from the festivities— the festivities held in your honour. I made up my mind to run away with you that day, but when I snuck away, you were already gone. I thought she had killed you, despite her claims. I-I mourned you. Every day."
Their expression darkens. "You could have sought me out after that. I know the tribe witnessed Chela's death. I saw you all skulking."
"Mother was gravely ill, and Venatrix named me her new successor. I had to help calm our people first. I had my responsibilities, and you had yours."
"I do not require responsibilities for happiness or fulfillment. I require connection, and I thought you had severed ours."
"It was not my intention." Melantha glances down at their injured side, fully stitched and wrapped now. Her lips purse. "I should have been a better sister. I realise that now."
Blackarachnia wants to say 'too little, too late' or something along those lines, but they're too tired. The ceremony hadn't gone as planned, and rather than being furious at the assailant, they find themself embarrassed. If they had worn armour, if they had ran through the crowd instead of around it, if they had done anything else-- They would have been able to prove to Melantha that Cybertronians were more than just a quarrelsome and war-mongering race.
Although… if the vases of native flowers and vials of innermost energon are any indication of how much space they take up in Cybertronian sparks, perhaps their sister already knows.
"So, what now? You've apologised. I've acknowledged it." Not accepted it. Not yet. "Will you go back to hiding in the dark?"
A tear traces the outline of Melantha's cheek, and their expression softens slightly. "No. I will do what I should have done aeons ago. Stand by you. Myself and all of us. That is... if you will have me."
Blackarachnia stares at her outstretched hand and then, slowly, grasps it. Melantha brings their fingers to her lips and then, choking back a sob, holds it to her cheek.
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Creative Project
The first site I saw on my voyage to ancient Egypt was the Great Pyramid of Giza, the largest of the Pyramids of Giza. The Pyramids of Giza were royal tombs built for the three pharaohs, Khufu, Khafre, and Menkaure. The Pyramid of Giza is the biggest Pyramid of Giza. The Great Pyramid of Giza's creation took about 20 years. Pharaoh Khufu was the pharaoh who created the Great Pyramid of Giza. The Great Pyramid of Giza is one of the "seven wonders of the world" and is the only one still standing today. Many people consider it to be the biggest building ever constructed. The original pyramid was 482 feet high and had four equal sides measuring 755 feet. There were about 2 million stones used to build the Great Pyramid of Giza. The stones used to construct the pyramid had polishing made with limestones. According to researchers, "Some of these stones are of such immense size and weight (such as the granite slabs in the King's Chamber) that the logistics of raising and positioning them so precisely seems an impossibility by modern standards." (worldhistory.com) The chief purpose of building the pyramids was to house the dead body of a pharaoh. The Egyptians believed that after a person dies, people would continue living in a similar world to the one on earth in the afterlife. During the burial ceremonies, people would leave all types of riches in the tombs of the pyramids because they believed it would help the dead person in the new world. A notable fact about the Great Pyramid of Giza is that there have been many grave robbers from the times of the construction of the pyramid to modern history. Some people believed that the pyramids were cursed and believed that bad luck would fall upon those who looted the pyramids. These ideas are what inspired modern movies like "The Mummy".
The second site I saw was the great Sphinx of Giza. The Great Sphinx of Giza came to be around the time of Pharaoh Khafre. The Great Sphinx is among the world's tallest sculptures having measurements totaling 240 feet long and 66 feet high. The Sphinx features a human head with a lion's body. There is a headdress covering the face of the sculpture with the face of the sculpture being Pharaoh Khafe's. The Sphinx was made to resemble the face of Pharaoh Khafre. It is one of Egypt's most famous landmarks. The sculpture was carved with a single piece of limestone. Historians don't know the exact purpose of the pyramid, but a lot of archeologists speculated that it was to guard the area it was in. The Great Sphinx of Giza is a monumental sculpture on its own, but historians believe that due to the proximity of other important constructions, it played a specific purpose in the layout of the area. Over time there has been a lot of damage done to the Great Sphinx of Giza due to normal wear and tear and possible vandalism. The nose on the Sphinx is no longer there and historians say either Napoleon and his crew caused the nose to fall or due to the aversion of worshipping the Sphinx, a Sufi Muslim leader destroyed the nose. There was a beard on the Great Sphinx of Giza, but it naturally eroded and fell off. Some signs lead historians to believe that the Sphinx was once multicolored. This is because there were relics of red paint found on the sculpture.
The third site I saw was the Nile River. The Nile River was essential to the rise of ancient Egypt. The Nile River flows 4,160 miles from eastern-central Africa into the Mediterranean. The Nile River provided ancient Egyptians with water to help make the soil fertile. The Nile River also helped the people of Egypt transport materials for building projects. Due to the Nile being a vital transportation route, Egyptians became skilled at building boats and ships. These ships transported important goods like wood, cattle, and vegetables. The Nile was vital to ancient Egypt because it was the main source of water in the desert, without the Nile there would have been a lack of resources regards to water. The Nile brought a unique opportunity for growth to the people of Egypt. The Nile would flood annually and depending on how much water was created silt(soil) would determine how much crops could be harvested that season. The natives had to be creative in creating tools to help create enough silt for a plentiful harvest. A form of water management practiced by the Egyptians was called basin irrigation. Basin Irrigation was a system that had the construction of water banks that created basins. Since water levels were so important to determine if the upcoming harvest would be fruitful, the Egyptians created a tool called a nilometer to measure water levels. This would help Egyptians know if they would have enough water to use for the season. The Nile also played a role in the construction of the pyramids in Egypt. The Nile was used as a means to transport the materials used in the construction of the pyramids. The Nile River also helped shaped Egyptian religious beliefs. The Nile was an important focal point in determining the Egyptian calendar because the first month of the calendar was determined by the flooding of the Nile. Egyptians even praised the deity of flooding, Hapy.
The fourth site I saw was the Hieroglyphs. Hieroglyphics is a system of writing using pictures as characters. Hieroglyphics could be read as pictures, symbols for objects, or symbols for sounds. The purpose of Hieroglyphics was to represent a royal individual or a special event with a picture on a wall. They can be found on temples walls and public monuments. Hieroglyphs were called the words of the gods by Egyptian people and were used mainly by priests. Egyptian Hieroglyphs were divided into four categories. Alphabetic signs represent a single sound, it should be noted that Egyptians didn't fully utilize vowels so some words may never be decoded. Syllabic signs are a combination of two or three consonants. Word signs are pictures of objects that are used to represent the object. Also, there are determinative signs, which are signs that help express an abstract idea. Early Hieroglyphics may have originated from the early art of Egypt. The symbols on pottery in Egypt are said to resemble hieroglyphics. Slowly through time, there have been advances in deciphering the Hieroglyphs in Egypt, but a big breakthrough came around 1799. In 1799 Napoleon's troops discovered Rosetta Stone. Rosetta Stone was a rock that had symbols carved into them. The symbols that were carved in Rosetta Stone allowed scholars to crack the code of Egyptian Hieroglyphics.
The death of Osiris is a major event in Egyptian history. According to history Set and Osiris were brothers of the divine original family of Egypt. Their father was Geb, god of earth, and Nut, goddess of the sky. They also had a sister named Isis, who plays an important role in the story. The story is told that Set is jealous of Osiris because Osiris is the king of Egypt. Osiris is known as the god of fertility and life while Set is known as the god of chaos and violence. This may have led the ancestor of Egypt to choose Osiris as king over Set. There was not a lot written about the reign of Osiris, but it was said to be a great time for Egypt. Some say that the Set vs Osiris battle was symbolism for the struggle between order and chaos. The story goes that Set tricked Osiris into a coffin where Set cut his body into a bunch of different pieces. Isis, the wife of Osiris, then looks for help to restore the dead body of Osiris. She is said to find a way to use her magic to restore all but one piece of Osiris and magically conceive a child named Horus. Horus would then Challenge his uncle Set for the throne of Egypt and later it is said he became victorious. This myth played an important role in the religion and worship of Egypt as Horus, Set, and Osiris were all worshipped by the people of Egypt at different times. Set in particular played an important role in ancient Egypt because he was the protector of Ra. It was said that Set used to protect Ra on his nightly voyage into the underworld by killing the giant serpent Apophis who represents all the evil in the world. Stories of these events and myths have been recorded in Hieroglyphics for historians to understand the History of the Egyptian people.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Not sure if this is what you had in mind but @navybrat817 here is one of my entries about what if Nat said goodbye to Bucky after the Snap was reversed...
Dear James,
If you're reading this then for all intents and purposes the plan to undo Thanos' Snap has worked, at the cost of my (perhaps others) life. I hope that you never receive this letter as I know the hurt and pain it could bring you should your memories return.
When you and I crossed paths in Washington while you were still the Soldat I felt such a turmoil of emotions: hurt, sad, angry and envious. Envious that you had forgotten me. For even the lack of memories Hydra caused you meant you were spared the pain of remembering what you and I had lost. You were the lucky one James, for your lost memories means that Hydra would not be able to use them to hurt you through your own feelings.
I learned a lot from you while I was your student: how to assess a threat, how to find my target, a multitude of ways to defend myself and to accomplish my missions at all costs. But most importantly I learned how to love again.
For those few years when we were training together and we had or missions in Paris abd Cuba and Madripoor. You might never remember how we danced on the little rooftop in Paris, or when you first taught me how to cook,or even the night we spent together in Rome, however I do remember everything. I spent every single moment since you forced me to escape the Red Room trying tofulfill the promise I made you: " That I would find my way back into tge light and I would love again.
I carried the love I had for you with me all this time. When Viena happened I knee you were not responsible and while signing the Accords felt like the correct course of action I knew better than anyone else that what had happened was not your fault.
You and I have been pawns for so many organizations for so long that I knew you were one of the handfull of people motivated enough ti try and stop the rest of the Winter Soldiers and Zemo's plans. It's why I had to let you and Steve go in Berlin.
Isn't it ironic that in doing so I also ended up getting some closure of my own regarding my own demons? That choice of betrayal has led me to be reunited with my family. Yelena noticed and teased me for "posing" when fighting but for more than 10 years that small pose was all I had left to remeber you by. I have had many regrets over the years, James, but you were never one of them and... and I hope I will find my courage if all goes well to tell you all of these in person...
Tomorrow we will risk our lives again to try and get you and Yelena and everyone else that we have lost. I hope that I get a second chance to tell you how much you mean to mehowever if I fail and you end up reading this letter then I'll ask that you do the same thing that you made me promise years ago when you helped me get to Budapest: "Live today for tomorrow James". Find tour peace and find yourself again. Know that you are loved and forgiven for all the past mistakes.
I will love you until the sun shines from the West ans the Moon rises at Dawn.
Yours, Natalia
Bucky finished reading the letter for what felt like the million time before looking at Nat's grave.
"Till the sun shines from the West Talia". One day I will tell you this in person again. He placed a small box with a ring on her grave before walking back to his bike leaving Nat's grave after one final glance.
#what if#buckybarnes#natasharomanoff#bucky x natasha#goodbye letter#@the-slumberparty#@navybrat817#Mine
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Nat king cole, Nature Boy
youtube
There was a boy.
A very strange, enchanted boy.
They say he wandered very far,
Very far,
Over land and sea.
A little shy,
And sad of eye,
But very wise was he.
And then one day,
One magic day he passed my way.
And while we spoke of many things,
Fools and kings,
This he said to me:
The greatest thing
You'll ever learn
Is just to love
And be loved
In return.
"How to stop time: kiss.
How to travel in time: read.
How to escape time: music.
How to feel time: write.
How to release time: breathe."
Matt Haig, Reasons to Stay Alive.
From:Fred Borges
The Present Final Ironical Solution Policy.
Peace please!
"Doug, you think killing is hard, huh? You wait in the bushes, the animal might outrun you or charge you. It's not easy to get your shot, hm?
Try healing something.
That is hard.
That requires patience.
You can break something in two seconds.
But it can take forever to fix it.
A lifetime, generations.
That's why we have to be careful on this earth and gentle!"
Salma Hayek - Beatriz at Dinner (2017)
Human Nature & There was a boy poem and song.
There was a Boy.
BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
There was a Boy; ye knew him well, ye cliffs
And islands of Winander! many a time,
At evening, when the earliest stars began
To move along the edges of the hills,
Rising or setting, would he stand alone,
Beneath the trees, or by the glimmering lake;
And there, with fingers interwoven, both hands
Pressed closely palm to palm and to his mouth
Uplifted, he, as through an instrument,
Blew mimic hootings to the silent owls
That they might answer him.—And they would shout
Across the watery vale, and shout again,
Responsive to his call,—with quivering peals,
And long halloos, and screams, and echoes loud
Redoubled and redoubled; concourse wild
Of jocund din! And, when there came a pause
Of silence such as baffled his best skill:
Then, sometimes, in that silence, while he hung
Listening, a gentle shock of mild surprise
Has carried far into his heart the voice
Of mountain-torrents; or the visible scene
Would enter unawares into his mind
With all its solemn imagery, its rocks,
Its woods, and that uncertain heaven received
Into the bosom of the steady lake.
This boy was taken from his mates, and died
In childhood, ere he was full twelve years old.
Pre-eminent in beauty is the vale
Where he was born and bred: the churchyard hangs
Upon a slope above the village-school;
And through that churchyard when my way has led
On summer-evenings, I believe that there
A long half-hour together I have stood
Mute—looking at the grave in which he lies!
Nature boy's concept:
Nature Boy- just a old school way of saying someone is a natural at things: women, wrestling, all the things that make a man great.
Nature boy's history:
The song Nature Boy was written in 1947 by eden ahbez and is partly autobiographical, basing it on his association with the groups who had adopted Naturmensch and Lebensreform philosophies. The story goes that in 1947 Ahbez attended a concert that Nat Cole was performing at the Lincoln Theater.
The song “Nature Boy” was a number one hit for Nat King Cole in 1948, selling 1 million copies that year. Since then, the song has been performed and recorded by hundreds of artists from jazz and other genres, including Frank Sinatra, John Coltrane, Miles Davis, Ella Fitzgerald, Sarah Vaughan, James Brown, David Bowie, and more.
Ahbez declaration:
All the money in the world will not change my way of life. Because all the money in the world could not give me the things I already have. Anna and I have learned that nature and a simple life will bring you peace and happiness. We sleep on the ground in sleeping bags in the California mountains and deserts.”
Anna was Ahbez’s wife. They married in 1946, and their son, Zoma, was born in October 1948, a few months after “Nature Boy” became a big hit. In the 1950s, they camped in Big Tujunga Canyon and other areas, and sometimes lived in ashrams in the Glendale area. They lived almost exclusively outdoors.
What and by all means represents, all these historic personalities?
Love and Nature!
Inspired by Naturmensch and Lebensreform whish main principles are:
Unsophisticated type of person, natural person.
And Lebensreform:
German generic term for various social reform movements, that started since the mid-19th century and originated especially in the German Empire and later in Switzerland.
Common features were the criticism of industrialisation, materialism and urbanization combined with striving for the state of nature. The painter and social reformer Karl Wilhelm Diefenbach is considered to be an important pioneer of the Lebensreform ideas.
What most we need now is love and the hermeneutic methodology that guides us to respond why do we exist, and based on this How do we exist?
Salma Hayek was light and right on saying: Healing is the most outrageous and challenging grey and heart matter's on earth, as destroying it is really the easiest solution or The Present Final Ironical Solution Policy.
So lets love, and care for and care about Human Nature or Boy Nature!
1 note
·
View note
Text
songs...like the silence of flooded houses
Earlier this year here in Montana the Yellowstone River was flooding down below the Carter Bridge. The river kept rising day after day until it was flowing through houses. They became like islands in the river and there was a strange awkward loneliness to them because these were places where people had been living (laughing, crying, love and death) only a few days before and now they were just part of the Yellowstone River.
Every time I passed by those houses on my way into town, I would get a very sad feeling and some words would come to mind. They were always the same words, "The silence of flooded houses." They repeated themselves over and over again. I soon accepted them as part of the way into town.
I'll use those words for something, someday, I would think afterwards, but I didn't know what that something would be or when that day would come.
Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the
church where the wedding has been,
lives in a dream.
Waits at the window, wearing the face
that she keeps in a jar by the door,
Who is it for?
Father McKenzie, writing the words of a
sermon that no-one will hear,
No-one comes near.
Look at him working, darning his socks
in the night when there's nobody there,
What does he care?
Eleanor Rigby died in the church and was
buried along with her name.
Nobody came.
Father McKenzie, wiping the dirt from
his hands as he walks from the grave.
No-one was saved.
One could say a million things about these songs. Your could go on for years talking about the Beatles. You could chop down a whole forest to make space for the pages.
Some of the songs in this book are like the silence of flooded houses.
This is all I have to say.
Richard Brautigan
Pine Creek, Montana
October 11, 1974
the introduction to The Beatles Lyrics Illustrated (1975)
1 note
·
View note
Text
“My son.”
Hearing him say those two precious words cuts like a knife. They echo off my heart and drop to my stomach like a pin.
“My son.”
How? You created him. You danced the dance we have danced for many centuries with a woman you broke as a last ditch effort to fix things. You broke her. You created him.
“My son.”
You say one thing and do another. Your tongue slithers between your teeth in a way that sounds like you might be unstable. Years of drug use and alcohol, I’m sure. You say it was just one dui but we know. We know. We know if the abuse and the drugs and the drinking. We know you. You don’t know us. You tearfully say you’re stuck in a place but you haven’t even grasped where you’re at beyond the four walls of a cell in a prison that is four hours away. You haven’t thought about it. You hoped we would drop it. You hoped we would let the system take care of your creation until you can get out and get your shit together. Unfortunately, your time has run out. You are bound for a decision that can’t be undone. You are destined to release your creation. If you don’t, you stand to lose. And we have no reason to offer anything else.
“My son.”
I want so badly to scream at you. I want to tell you that just because he’s biologically yours doesn’t mean he’s yours. Just because you didn’t know doesn’t mean we or he owes you anything. Just because you feel entitled to a life you created doesn’t mean you will do well once the responsibility is yours. He’s not something you can just return to Walmart if the fit isn’t just right. He is not some discounted item to be put on the end cap and if you decide it doesn’t go with your decor that you can just bring him back. He’s not a toy. He’s a life. He’s my son.
“My son.”
I watched in awe as the nurse placed him on the scale. “7lbs 2.2oz 19in long” short but good. He was red as a tomato. Tiny and warm. My instincts immediately kicked in as he was placed in my arms. Staring in disbelief at this tiny human. This tiny human that we waited so long for. I watched his little chest rise and fall. I watched him smack his lips and open one eye. I kissed the top of his way too big head. He was placed in the bassinet after a diaper change and we fed him. I watched my husband stare at this little being in amazement. He was here. He was ours.
“My son.”
They let us go home with him. We couldn’t believe it. With out any instruction on how to use the car seat, finally we got it figured out. Into our car. Into our home. My husband had to leave the bring back once of the hospital bracelets. I just stared at him in the silence. Tiny human. Our son.
“My son.”
A few days later, his birth mother relinquished her rights. She messaged me to let me know that you might contest this. We hoped you wouldn’t be this stupid. Here we are. She said he would fight with us. I held my breath and cried. I already loved my son.
“My son.”
I get the call that you contested. A million thoughts race through my mind. You’re that stupid. What if you win? Can you provide the better life from him? Beyond the four walls of your cell can you really be the best fit? “Idk why I havent gotten out. I can provide well. I want my son.”
“My son”
But can you provide for him with out a drink in your hand? What happens if he’s in the car when you drive the wrong way again? What does his future look like with you? You can cook him fancy meals but can you really and truly give him a life worth living?
“My son”
He’s my son. Not yours. Biology aside, you know nothing. You don’t know anything about him. You haven’t asked. Which is very narcissistic of you. This isnt about my son this is about you. Play innocent. Go ahead. Lie to the courts again that it’s just a dui. Watch as we drag every mistake up from your grave. Fuck you asshole. You don’t get my son.
0 notes
Text
Trust Ch 10
An Undertale Fanfiction
Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / AO3 LINK
Characters: Sans, Grillby, Papyrus, Royal Doggies
Setting: Baby Blaster AU
Contains: SAD CHILDREN. Mentions of child abuse.
Synopsis: In which the kids have a nice day with their BFF, Gnash is fed up with some shit, and good dogs are being good dogs.
TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of severe child abuse for this chapter
Bertram shivered, drawing the collar of his coat closer around his scaly neck. Of course, they would have to go to Snowdin, the bane of his existence. Scales weren't particularly warm in the snow and ice after all. He was still cold even when wrapped in several layers of heat enchanted clothing. Bah...to be a dinosaur...
There was a reason why scaled Monsters tended to live in Hotland. Still...Bertram was a little worried. He could almost swear that they were being watched from the shadows of the evergreen trees. He squinted into the darkness, but he could not see anything that proved they were being observed. Just flashes of white that could have easily been simple snowflakes in the wind.
“Are we there yet?” Alphys bounced about in the snow, barely able to stay calm as they walked. Alphys didn't seem to mind the cold so much in her excitement.
Since leaving their home she hasn't stopped talking about her friends. How nice they were. How cool they were. She was trying to talk them up, but every-time she mentioned the little bone children, Bertram felt a shiver of guilt creep across his soul. After all, his dear intelligent daughter had came to him for help and he had dismissed her.
Everyone in the guard had tried to comfort him about it, but in the end he still ignored a cry for help and he felt awful. His fault or not, it was his inability to trust his daughter that continued their torture. The conversation over the phone with their guardian hammered in just how fragile they were. It was stressed that they would all need to be VERY careful while visiting. So much guilt...it refused to leave him.
Under his arm he carried a present. Hopefully, it would be a good start to make amends with the skeletons. Inside were some cookies, simple butter and sugar ones. Bribery to the highest degree, but he hoped it would be good enough to at least make them a little more comfortable.
“Almost there.” He finally spoke. He reached out a clawed hand to hold his daughter close, a little paranoid with all this ice around. What if she slipped and hurt herself? That wouldn't do at all. He only wished that the 'being watched' feeling would go away. It had started ever since he set foot in the frozen town.
His old instincts flared nervously as he daughter held his hand and led him on, her ramblings a low buzz in his mind.
They were shortly directed to a pleasant little two story house. Seems that Grillby, the boy's guardian, was very well known and beloved in town. Just about everyone knew where he lived. The front of the house was fairly plain and simple. It stood out from the permanent Gyftmas decorations on the other houses for sure.
He hummed nervously, adjusting his coat and hesitantly knocking on the door. There was a sharp bark from inside the house before it went silent again. He had to wait a few seconds before the door opened and a warm draft of heated air spilled into the front step. Bertram's sigh of relief caught up in his throat when he realized who had opened the door. Despite knowing who he was, it was still a bit of a shock for Monsters old enough to remember the war.
Grillby, former Major General of the Royal Monster Military...Bane of Humans...The Flames of Vengeance.... ...was standing there, wearing a bright pink t-shirt with 'HOT DAD' written on it in a flaming font. Hot dad indeed.
“Hello...” The fire monster adjusted his glasses as he peered at the two dinosaurs before him. His gaze then turned to the smallest dino. “.....Alphys....I take it? Welcome to our home...”
“YEAH!” She squeaked and flailed her arms as much as they could under several layers of cloth. She vibrated slighted. “Are Sans and Papyrus in there? Are they okay? ARE THEY ALRIGHT? CAN I SEE THEM N-”
“Ah...yes....yes....they are fine...” The flame held up his hands to calm the overly excited child. “They are inside...but please....be careful as they are still regaining their strength...”
“Don't be rough with them, sweet pea.” Bertram smiled and patted his daughter's head.
“Please be aware...” The flame addressed Bertram next. “They do not trust strangers....it takes a long time for them...to warm up to people. And...no sudden movements...and no loud sudden noise. Don't try to touch them unless they...initiate contact first. And don't...stare at them.”
Seems there were quite a few rules, but understandable ones. “I understand, I'll do my best to not intimidate them.” The dino nodded his head. He'll do his best, even though his species were not known for being intimidating. Pastel friendly dinosaurs were the entire family line.
Grillby nodded and stood aside to allow the two to come in out of the cold. Both dinosaurs wiped their feet before entering the house. What greeted them was not children, but an empty living room. It was warm and pleasant enough and quite roomy. Scattered among the furniture were large cardboard boxes with holes cut into them. Holes big enough for a child to climb inside, he figured.
And then, one of the boxes wiggled and two pinpricks of white watched from the darkness of the hole.
Ah, there they were.
“Sannnnnsssssss Papyrussssssss!” Alphys ran inside, beaming behind her glasses. “Guys! I'm here!”
The box wiggled before two bone puppies burst forth from the cardboard! Yapping , they tackled the little dinosaur to the ground. Thankfully, her several coats cushioned the collision as she fell with a squeal. She laughed and giggled, trying to fend of the attack of happy licks and nuzzles. The two whined and snuggled up against Alphys, not letting her get up off the floor. She found herself trapped under the puppies!
In the end she gathered them both up in her small arms and hugged them. “Heehee I missed you guys.” She smooched them both on top of their bony crests, avoiding the bandage still on Sans's head. They whined in response and began to purr. Sans's tail was wagging so fast it could take out a small child walking behind him. And of course, Papyrus started screaming in delight. She hugged them closer, eyes closed to fend off emotions that threatened to spill over. Her very first friends were safe now...it was almost too good to be true. But here they were!
Both Grillby and Bertram watched the interaction, both ready to jump in in case there was a problem. But...they doubted they would need too. All three kids seemed to be fine at the moment.
Then, all three children jumped up and started chasing each other other through the house. Soon the house echoed with shouts and barks as the children were well...children. They ran about until they had worn away that brief burst of energy to sit with each other once again. The brief episode only lasted a few minutes, but felt like hours to the excited kids.
The children of course, completely ignored the adults in the room. Grillby took it to be a good sign.
“You guys look so much better.” Alphys smiled, panting to catch her breath as she sat on the carpet. “You guys have your own clothes and everything now! A WHOLE house! It's so big!”
“Yeah.” Sans had changed into his humanoid form (much to Bertram's shock!). “It's great here!” He sat shoulder to shoulder with Alphys, wanting to be in contact with her at all times. “And....you're okay too, right? You're fine?”
“Of course I am! See?” She shed off the layers of coats to reveal a pink simple dress. She held out her arms to show that there were no bandages or marks of any kind. She was whole and safe. Sans gave her a look over, before nodding with a satisfied smile. “That's good...”
“And now that I know where you live, we can visit a wholeeee bunch now!” She picked up Papyrus and cuddled him, who was still a bone puppy. Papyrus purred as he got held, closing his eyes and sticking out a manifested tongue. Alphys smiled and rocked the tiny pup. "We can have more than just slumber parties then!”
“What else is there besides that?” Sans tilted his head as he scratched at his bandage.
“Well, there's dancing parties and cake parties...oh! Maybe we can go out somewhere, like to the toy store! But I'd have to ask Dad and Mister Grillby first.” Alphys stole a quick glance over at her father and Grillby, before turning back to Sans. “Are you happy here with Mister Grillby?” She dropped her voice to a whisper “Cause if not...I can bust you out again.”
“Oh! No we're happy. See, Grillby is our dad now! ” Sans smiled. “This is the best place!”
“Heehee you have a dad now too? My dad is over there!” She'll point. Sans turned to look. Wow, the adult did look a lot like his friend, but more orange and...round?
Bertram turned away from a quiet conversation with Grillby , looking to the children. He startled. The eldest of the skeleton children was staring right at him. Sans stared with his wide white pupils...before suddenly his eye sockets went pitch dark.
The older dinosaur balked at the look. The action seemed to please the skeleton enough where he turned away and back to Alphys. There, they resumed their quiet conversation.
“Don't worry about that...it is...a defense mechanism.” Grillby explained. “He is...a nervous child. He relies on...intimidation to protect himself...”
“Ah well...yes of course. That makes sense...” Bertram swallowed. He did his best to tear his gaze away from the children, remembering the 'no staring' rule.
“If anything...he is accepting you rather well...” Grillby nodded. “He hasn't entered any...outright threat displays...lets keep it that way.” There was a soft warning undertone to the sentence, that one dad to another could understand. Bertram nodded with a swallow, watching the kids in the corner of his eye.
Alphys had taken out her phone and accessed her inventory. She proceeded to dump a large pile of building blocks and legos on the floor. Picking one up, she began to show the both of the skeletons how to snap them together. Papyrus was still too young to understand the concept of legos yet. But he seemed happy enough to turn some of the more brighter colored ones in his paws and sort them into piles. Sans picked up on it rather fast and he and Alphys laid on their stomachs and began to build a city together.
“Come, you can help me with lunch...and let them have some...quiet fun alone.” Grillby nodded to the kitchen.
“Ah yes...sure.” Bertram nodded and followed the fire elemental to the kitchen. He went slow as not to bother the children. To his relief, he was pretty much ignored as the children were far too busy with building to pay him any attention. It allowed him to catch a few snippets of their conversation as he passed.
“We need TWO candy shops, Sans.”
“Why two?”
“Cause two is better than one, silly!”
Smiling, he left the children to their playing. Time to help fix lunch.
It had not been a good time for Dr.Felix.
Confined to a jail cell ever since the laboratory raid, his only companions were his thoughts. Stripped of his clothing of status, he instead wore a simple orange jumpsuit, a mark of shame. Those he could deal with, but the harassment was a different story, from guard and prisoner alike.
Once it had slipped WHY he was in jail, the harassment has reached ungodly levels. Even murderers and thieves had no pleasant words to say to him once they found out. Even worse, he couldn't even rely on the companionship of his fellow scientists. They were all separated. Where the others were he couldn't begin the fathom.
Perhaps he was being given time to reflect on his deeds and repent...but that wasn't going to work. What was there to repent for? So, he festered in silence in the cold, dark cell, waiting for something to happen.
That is, until the captain of the guard came to 'escort' him to a interrogation room.
And that's where he found himself. His hands shook as metal cuffs dug into his arms. Cuffed to the arms of the chair, there wasn't any hope of escape. To prevent any further struggle, the metal of the cuffs hummed with magic. Magical runes woven in the metal were there to block all attempts of magic from a prisoner. Even his legs met the same fate, cuffed to the legs of the chair. And the chair itself remained firm, bolted to the floor. He was utterly trapped. They were not going to take chances with him.
He stared across the bare metal table at the fish monster sitting across from him. The room was dark. The only light came from a few bare light-bulbs scattered about. Their scant bulbs cast the sterile and gray room in harsh light. It was quite....uncomfortable. Felix kept blinking, after being in the dark for so long, the light was almost unbearable as he tried to adjust.
Gnash picked at his teeth with a claw, glancing at the imprisoned scientist. He was in his full armor, his polished sword sitting in hands reach. Clearly, if Felix did manage to try something, he would regret it.
“We've watched all the tapes.” Gnash finally spoke, breaking the silence. “We read all the notes. You and the others are looking at either life sentences, or if the king decrees, the death penalty. It depends on how good of a mood he's in...and I'll tell you now. Ever since he found about about this? His mood has been pretty damn poor.”
“It doesn't matter.” Felix's voice cracked, rough from not speaking for so long. Ever since his capture, Felix has resigned to his fate. There was nothing he could do to change any of it, so why bother? In the end he was a dead man no matter what he did. All it would chance was how quick and less painful that end would be.
“It does matter. Our King has sworn to protect ALL monster kind. And that includes the children you and your bastard of a leader made and tortured. He is not happy.”
“So? Let him not be happy. It doesn't matter anymore.”
“IT MATTERS TO ME.” Gnash slammed his fists so hard on the metal table, it left dents in it's wake. The sudden display of violence shook Felix out of his cool demeanor, causing him to gape in shock.
“IT MATTERS TO YOUR VICTIMS. Two which are still alive and WILL get their justice.” Gnash sucked a breath in through his sharp gritted teeth in anger. “You're lucky you are here right now and that I follow the law. Most of my men want you tossed to the Major General. Remember him? Flames of Vengeance? He'd annihilate you to the point where they won't even be able to find your dust. If he knew where you were, there would be nothing that would be able to stop him.”
Felix took a deep breath, despite himself he was shivering.
“Despite that, there is a chance for redemption.” Gnash casually withdrew his fists and checked over the armor, making sure they weren't dented. “We need to catch your bastard of a boss, and you can help. If you do, you'll avoid the death penalty for sure. That is the most we can do."
“No...I can't.” Felix finally spoke up, swallowing thickly. When did his throat get so dry? “I can't help you.”
“We need to know where Gaster is.” The Captain looked right through the cat, his yellow eyes narrowing. “And you need to tell us NOW.”
“I DON'T KNOW where he is!” Felix backed his ears and hissed. “He never told us about any other labs or houses he has. He could be anywhere!”
“Are you sure about that?” Gnash peeled back his lips in a silent snarl. “I've looked over your files. You've been working with Dr. Gaster for years. You were even in his same graduating class. You two were close. You must know something.”
“Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you.” Felix snarled back. He jerked forward in anger, stopped by the cold metal chaining him to the chair. His fur along his neck bristled from the interrogation. Seems he had found a sudden surge of bravery.
Gnash mealy regarded the feline coldly.
“Oh? And why not. He abandoned you and the rest of the team to face justice while he ran like a coward.” Gnash tapped his fingertips together as he started down the feline. “Odd, such loyalty for a...creature like that.” Gnash didn't want to quite call Gaster a man or a monster, he didn't deserve such terms anymore.
“Not so much loyalty.” Felix frowned, his ears pressed firmly against his skull.
“Ah, fear then?” Gnash leaned forward. “You know, we can protect you.”
“No...no you can't.” Felix chuckled, a bitter and deep laugh. “You can't. He can go anywhere he wants. He's a powerful mage. And, he has no conscious and only cares about the greater good...the BIG picture. What do you think he'd do to me if I spilled my guts about him? I'm surprised he hasn't killed me already. I am only a liability now.”
“But you're fine with him running loose.” Gnash quirked an eyebrow. “He's after the children, I'm sure of it, and you're saying you're are okay with that?”
“I'm fine with him doing what he needs to do.” The cat looked away.
“And that is?”
“Freeing us all.”
“Yes, free us all on the backs of tortured children. I'm sure our King would be delighted.” Gnash's voice dripped with sarcasm and withered patience.
“The King would rather us all waste away by waiting for humans to drop into our laps. At least Gaster has a proactive approach.”
“Hah! Proactive indeed! Tell me, what did he do to convince you that maiming babies was the right path to take?”
Felix grit his teeth and looked away, refusing to look the Captain in the face. He had no answer to that.
Gnash tsked. “Such a shame. A brilliant mind, wasted by following a psychopath. Keep lying to yourself enough and eventually you'll believe it. How long did it take for him to begin his experiments? You must have had an inkling of how wrong they were. We have the tapes you know...so we know about how much they screamed for help even as they turned to dust in their cages.”
Felix closed his eyes, wishing he could cover his ears and shut it all out.
“You must have felt something when you assisted Gaster in breaking their little bones. Or forcing them to train until some died of exhaustion. Or perhaps, you felt a little twinge of guilt when Gaster gave them injections. Injections that would make them scream for hours. Hours and hours of screaming. SURELY, that must have caused you some inconvenience, eh?”
“Stop.” Felix growled.
“Or how about when they started falling down or were born crippled? Gaster shoved them into tubes to prolong their suffering. Or how about cracking their heads open and messing around inside of it like you would a toy. How about the times you wouldn't feed them to measure how long they could last? Measuring how long it took for them to start dusting must have been a tough task."
“STOP.”
“How about when one of earlier children learned enough common to call Gaster 'Dadda''? And how he immediately killed them. You were there in the tape, you saw it all. That look on that poor kid's face when he pulled out the hammer-"
“STOP. STOP!” Felix roared suddenly. “SHUT UP! FOR ANGEL'S SAKE SHUT UP!”
Gnash scoffed. “Oh really now? Did I touch a nerve there, sunshine?”
“I'm done talking.” Felix leaned back, his face hard. “Take me back to my cell. I'm done.”
For a while they only stared at each other in complete silence. Gnash sighed and shrugged.
“That's fine. You don't have to talk to me. Instead, you can talk to him.” Gnash inclined his head towards the door. “A very, special guest indeed. Why, he even insisted he come talk to you and your buddies. But, we kinda wanted to keep you all alive for proper interrogation first.”
“Talk to wh-”
And then the door opened, the light washing out the figure, until they stepped forward. They had to duck, their great bulk and armor was not one made for smaller door frames. And then, stepping inside carefully to not his horns on the door-frame, was the King of monsters.
Dressed in his armor and cape, his trident clenched in his paw, the King surveyed the room. His eyes flashed blue and orange as he frowned. His aura of strong magic was enough to even make the Captain of the Royal guard flinch under it's power. King Asgore stood, regarding the disgraced scientist with both cold fury...and disappointment. It was almost like disappointing the best Dad in the world, and Felix felt his innards twist in icy discomfort.
Felix's breath caught in his throat. All bravado, all thoughts of the King being weak...a fool...died, paralyzed with fear.
Asgore walked forward, leaning down. His voice, deep and powerful, rocked with the undertones of sadness and restrained rage.
“Now....let's talk.
With two monsters helping in the kitchen, lunch was ready in record time. Grillby couldn't help but miss the children's presence as he cooked. Sometimes they liked to sit and watch, asking questions about cooking. For now though, it was important to let them catch up with their friend. Bertram proved to be a capable cook, explaining that it was just him and Alphys. SOMEBODY needed to be able to make food.
In time a simple meal found itself put together. Mashed potatoes, meatloaf, and some mixed roasted vegetables. Grillby set out glasses of milk and plates for the children. Satisfied with the placement, he went out to fetch the skeletons and dino.
And what a sight greeted him!
Sans and Alphys had on rhinestone encrusted skirts, glittery tiaras, and bows. In both their hands they had little plastic wands. Clearly, Alphys has brought plenty of items with her, including dress-up props. They were trying to stop Papyrus, who was crawling around their lego city. He stopped once in awhile to shove buildings into his mouth to chew on. He left a trail of colorful plastic collateral damage in his wake as he crawled. He babbled nonsense words as he picked up another building and started pulling it to pieces. Papyrus clearly was having the time of his life!
“Quick Sans! Use your Pup Power COSMOS ATTACK.” Alphys posed dramatically, spinning carefully to not step on a lego with her bare feet. “Or the city will be LOST!”
“Uhhhh.” Sans was clearly trying to learn this 'game' as he was going along. “Uh...uh....COSMOS ATTACK ACTIVATE! ka-powwwww! Whooshhhh!” He pointed his wand (both had hearts on the ends!) at his little brother.
Papyrus didn't seem to care. He spit out the building he was chewing on and reached over to grab another in his little hands. "Ababa Ba!"
“Pap, you're suppose to fall over!” Sans tried to whisper. “That's cheating!”
Papyrus simply started chewing on the legos again. “Bloo aaaaaahhh bab!”
“IT ISN'T WORKING! WE MUST COMBINE OUR POWERS!” Alphys went to strike another pose, before she paused. Sans looked up to see where she was looking, before breaking into a smile.
“Hi dad!”
“Hello Sans...what are you three playing?” Grillby smirked as he looked over the wreckage. Seems the building block city they were building has fallen to ruin. Papyrus of course was in the middle of it.
“We're magical girls...I think! With....with...” Sans frowned in thought, trying to remember the rest of it.
“Magical girls with superpowers we use to save the day!” Alphys chimed in. “We spin around and get wands and crowns and dresses and MAGICAL POWERS!”
“Yeah I'm a space magical girl, and Alphys is a mecha one!” Sans beamed.
“Oh I see. .” Oh no, this was too pure and innocent. Grillby's flames turned a warm golden color to reflect his mood. “And how did that go?”
“We were protecting the city but...I don't think Papyrus knows how to play too good yet.” Sans looked over at his younger brother. Said brother started smashing buildings down and scattering pieces everywhere. “He's a cheater.”
“I am sure he'll be...a more involving playmate when he is a little older.” Grillby chuckled. “Now, it is time for lunch. Little ones must eat....even magical ones.”
Grillby has spoken the magic words It seemed! Sans picked up his brother and all three children made their way to the kitchen. Being magical girls was hungry work! The mess of legos and building blocks lay scattered all over the living room floor. He would remind the children to pick them up and put them away after Lunch.
A flash of movement at the window caught his eye and breaking his current train of thoughts. When he went to look, there was nothing there.
There was a brief surge of paranoia...before he relaxed. The dogs were on the case. They were guarding the house. He had no choice but to trust them and he did. He has known the Canine guard unit since they were all puppies. All good and dedicated dogs. And if someone did manage to get through them, than they would sorely regret coming here.
With that, he left for the kitchen, prepared for whatever might happen.
After all, prepare for the worst, but hope for the best.
The Dogi crouched, hidden in the snow. They had traded in their usual black cloaks for white ones, becoming almost one with the snow around them. They were trained in the art of stealth, almost becoming one with the wilderness around them. They have stopped in their small patrol area to peek inside the house they are guarding. So far...so good. Grillby was burning brighter than he has for years. It was good to see him happy, him and the children too. They aimed to keep it that way.
They were sure that the adults knew that they were being watched.
Of course, they don't mean to cause discomfort, but they had a job to do. And that job was keeping an eye out over the family. They wouldn't put it past Gaster to attempt to retake his 'property', and if he tried, they would be able to catch him.
Dogamy glanced over at his wife. She was looking tired and he was feeling so too.
“Dear...we've been at this for a while now.” He began softly.
(“Yes. We have.”) Dogaressa's reply was short, her dark eyes scanning the area around them.
They have taken refuge in the shadow of the wood. It offered superior natural camouflage. It's position also allowed them to set up ambushes and trap if need be. Lucky for Grillby, his house was close enough to the wood to offer such natural protection.
“When Lesser and Greater come to relieve us, you are getting some sleep.” He looked over to his wife . “You haven't slept at all these past few days.”
(“How do you expect me to sleep, where there's....that thing...running around? He had no problem hurting these puppies, what makes you think he would have issue hurting the other pups in town?”)
“I know...but we're only two dogs. We have the whole canine unit out now. We can't do anything if we're too tired to fight!” Dogamy placed a paw on his wife's shoulder. “You know it, it's one of the first things they drilled into us at the academy.”
Dogaressa sighed. (“I know...I know...”)
Their conversation cut out when a low short howl echoed from town. The Dogi tilted back their heads and howled back. Two loud barks was the swift reply, drawing closer from the center of town.
Part of what made the Snowdin guard so effective is their long distant communication. In no time at all, Greater and Lesser Dog approached from the haze of snow. When they saw their two commanders, they snapped crisp salutes.
<”Lesser Reporting in!”> The shorter dog panted, his tail wagging in excitement.
<"Greater reporting in! News from the Big Captain!”> Greater loomed over the other three dogs. With his magical armor, he was the biggest and strongest out of all the canines in raw physical power.
(“Good news I hope?”) Dogaressa glanced at her husband. He looked back before squeezing her shoulder again.
<”Yes! Yes!”> Lesser vibrated, his neck extending a few inches. <”Bad scientists talked! Secret bad scientist holes are being found now!”>
“Excellent news!” Dogamy grinned. “See 'Ressa? Things are looking up.”
<”Won't be long now!”> Greater opened his small jaws in a wide doggy grin.
Dogaressa allowed herself a smile, a rare thing since the case began. (“Then I suppose you'll be taking our posts for the night?”)
Both Lesser and Greater saluted and nodded.
“Alright then, goodnight you two.” Dogamy took his wife's hand and began to lead her back to the barracks for some shuteye.
<”We will!”>
<”We'll keep our noses to the air!”>
Satisfied, the Dogi melted into the darkness and vanished from view. It was time for them to get some well deserved rest.
Lesser and Greater drew their weapons and assumed their posts. They weren't made for stealth, but their white fur and light armor helped them blend into the snow. If anyone came around, it would be clear that the house was being guarded.
There they would remain steadfast and faithful, watching over the house before them.
They are good dogs! Best dogs! Maybe if they were good, they would have time to go and visit the bone puppies! They liked the puppies! They were good dogs too!
They wagged their tails and panted, keeping a watchful eye over the house.
Good dogs!
Best dogs!
Hours had past since lunch and dinner, and the children had a blast. Of course they played some more, running around and yelling likes kids tend to do. Bertram had given the boys his gift of cookies, but to his surprise they didn’t eat a single bite. Sans briefly vanished upstairs with the box when he thought nobody was looking. When he came back down he was box-less.
Hrm.
The boys were then introduced to popcorn, anime, and dancing...in that order. Sans found that he liked the anime, but not so much the dancing. He wasn't quite used to all the noises and movement yet, and found himself getting a little anxious. Sans grew up in sterile gray walls and little to no stimulation...cartoons and music were still a little overwhelming for him.
Luckily Grillby seemed to have a sixth sense now to Sans's moods and casually suggested that they all sit down for a story. It was getting late after all, and the children were beginning to wind down. Sans and Papyrus had low energy to begin with, but even Alphys was getting tired too. To Bertram, she had played harder than she has for a long time and for once, was properly tired out.
So Grillby sat down, his flames crackling and popping gently like an old warm fireplace. He cracked open an old dog eared copy of 'Winnie-the-Pooh', a human book about little stuffed animals that lived in a wood. Like most books, it was recovered from the dump and restored at the local library.
Since taking in the kids, Grillby has found himself slipping there when he can. They had quite a few books that came from the surface about humans, but the children seemed to like them despite it.
Still a good story is a good story, no matter where it comes from.
Eventually, the stories were over and it was time to get ready for the 'slumber' part of the party. Grillby made a bed up on the couch for Bertram as the kids ran to brush their teeth and get changed for bed. Papyrus was still too young to brush his own teeth. Last time he tried he ate half a tube of toothpaste before Grillby could stop him. In time, teeth were brushed and PJ's were put on and good night's were exchanged.
And Sans was oddly excited despite his fatigue.
“Come on! It's time for bed!” He began tugging on Alphys's hand, trying to drag her to a room down the hallway.
“I know it is! Are we going to your room?” She was a little perplexed as she allowed herself to be dragged along. Papyrus had already ran ahead, seemingly eager for bed.
“Yeah! Wait till you see it!” The older skeleton could barely contain himself, his white pupils sparkling with joy. They didn't have long to go before all three were inside the room and Sans pulled back the curtains on his bed.
The lights were on and the stick on stars glowed a soft green, making Alphys gasp a little!
“This whole room is yours!?! Wow!” She looked around the toy and book filled room. It seems that the skeletons had begun to decorate themselves. Crayon doodles began to cover some lower parts of the walls along with the odd sticker or two. It felt homely. Much better than a cage that’s for sure.
“I knowwwwww! It's all ours! And we didn't have to do anything for it!” Such a concept was still a little beyond Sans, but he knew he was happy. He picked up his little brother and tossed him on the bed. Papyrus squealed and bounced on his side of the bed as Sans climbed in after him.
“Come on Alphys!” Sans beamed and held open the curtain for his friend.
“Ah! Coming!” Alphys quickly climbed aboard and Sans closed the curtain behind her.
Here in the darkness, the lights and the glow-in-the-dark stickers seemed to make the dark space into a whole other world. A warm and dark world none the less, but pleasant. Sans turned on a moon shaped touch-light and for a moment, banished away the darkness. Sans grinned, happy to finally show off something that truly belonged to him and his brother.
“Guys...this is so cool!” Alphys had ideas already on what to do with her bed when she got home. Curtains and lights were awesome!
“Heehee yeah...and if you get hungry...” Sans reached up into the wooden 'rafters' of the top bunk and pulled out the gift box of cookies. Seems that the wooden beams offered plenty of places to hide food and trinkets. Alphys could catch a glimpse of other hoarded treats now that she knew where to look. Thankfully they all seemed to be sealed in packages. She didn’t want to sleep in a crumb filled bed!
“Nah, I'm good, your dad is a good cook. I ate too much.” She giggled in response. Shrugging, Sans stuck the box back in with his other stash.
“He's the best cook.” Sans could only agree. It had taken time, but now he was able to appreciate all the new food and flavors now that he wasn't so sick anymore. Grillby had explained to him that after a period of starvation, it takes a while for someone to be able to eat well again. Luckily for Papyrus, Sans had always made sure he ate first, so his little brother wasn't burdened with such a problem.
He felt proud of himself for being able to ask for seconds today, much to his father's happiness.
“Yeah he is! I mean, my Dad is a good cook too.” She'll chuckle in response.
“I guess...Dads are just good...right?” Sans blinked.
She nodded. “Yeah! They are pretty awesome...heehee.”
For a while they sat together for a while, Papyrus crawling on them to seek attention.
“I'm...” Alphys started. “I'm glad...”
“Hrm?” Sans tilted his head, picking up his brother and cradling him on his lap.
“I'm just...so happy you guys are here now...” Alphys teared up despite herself. “I was just...so worried...”
“I know...but...it's good now right?” Sans for once, looked hopeful. “Dad said...he won't let anything happen to us...and I trust him.”
“True...Dad said that Mister Grillby is really strong.” Alphys wiped her face with a smile. “I mean, even if he doesn't look it.”
“Just what are you saying about my dad?” Sans quirked a brow ridge.
“That he's a nerrddddddddd.” The dino giggled.
“.....” Sans blinked. “What's a nerd?”
Alphys laughed and proceeded to explain the whole concept of 'nerds' to Sans and Papyrus, only to witness them slow blinking and nodding off after the five minute mark.
Well, she DOES tend to get a little long winded when explaining something.
“GOSH! Fine, I'll explain in the morning!” She giggled and grabbed the pillow she brought, laying down.
Only then to find herself pinned down by two purring bone puppies.
“NO! At least let us get under the covers first. Goshhhhh!” She struggled and giggled, trying to pull up the covers but the pups didn't want to move!
Outside of the door, Grillby listened with a smile until the laughter turned into soft snores. He wasn't quite spying, more like being a little paranoid, and wanting to be sure everyone was safe and sound. When he was sure the children were both asleep, he made his way down the stairs where Bertram was making himself comfortable on the couch.
“Thank you for staying.” Grillby began. “Are you comfortable?”
“Oh I am...thank you. And it's no problem...I mean...two adults keeping an eye out is better than one.” The elder dinosaur nodded.
“Mhmm...” Grillby walked across the room to look out the window again.
“So...still no sign of the guy...right?” Bertram pulled up the covers to his chin, but was still very much alert.
“No...but they will catch him….or I will.” Grillby sighed and closed the blinds, checking to make sure everything is locked up.
Bertram simply turned over on the couch, keeping his ear pointed towards the door. “...good night Grillby.”
“...Goodnight Bertram.” Grillby nodded, switching off the lights and making his way back to the stairs. “If you need anything, I will be upstairs. Sleep well.”
“Thank you, I'll try too.” Bertram sighed and settled down, watching as the fire elemental vanish upstairs. The absence of the fire plunged the house into darkness.
He knew that none of them will be getting much sleep that night.
Gaster stepped out of the rocky exit, frowning as his shoe crunched in the snow. So...they've run all the way out here, to the very edge of the underground? Hrm...Snowdin was still quite 'wild' after all this time, with more wilderness than town. It would make sense for beasts to seek out where they belong.
He glanced at his device, the blips on the screen pointing up to the Northwest of town near the tree cover. He was ready to step forward and continue his trek when a soft howl echoed through the cavern.
It was shortly answered by three short barks.
Ah yes, the mutt guard. Gaster wasn't a fellow who particularly liked dogs, but still admired their abilities. After all, he sought to emulate such traits in his creations, particularly the obedience and eagerness to please. But unfortunately, they have proved too willful for that. Failures, all of them.
Oh well, the E3 group should see some improvements, once he gains his experiments back. They would be the new basis for a new line, and maybe this time he will have a properly functioning group, moving up from alpha phase testing to beta phase testing.
He shook his head, he was getting ahead of himself. If he wished to regain his creations, he would need to find away around the guard. No doubt they have a special interest with his creations, due to their current puppy-like stage. And he knew better to cross such a bond unprepared.
Tsk. How unfortunate. He was already falling behind his time table with all these setbacks.
With no access to his main laboratory, he would have to start again, and he needed those two to do so. After all, does one not need a prototype before making a new version?
His musings were interrupted again by another howl and he frowned.
Well...looks like he must make a tactical retreat for now and come up with a proper plan before executing the extraction of his subjects.
He would need to find an opportunity to strike.
And thankfully, he is a patient man.
#trust#keetah writes#baby blaster au#gasterblaster au#undertale#fanfiction#sans#grillby#papyrus#alphys#gaster#babyblaster au#next chapter is going to be a doozy#happy valentines day to everyone#after one million years i rise from my grave
128 notes
·
View notes
Text
"Mom, are you a drug dealer ??” - Batfam x Fem!Reader
Synopsis : “(Y/N) Wayne, Gotham’s biggest drug lord ? What will her husband, who works closely with Batman, think ?” said the headline in today’s paper. And you’re not sure if you should be fuming, or bursting out laughing. Oh, oh mother of all misunderstanding. It definitely doesn’t help, that your children think this situation hilarious.
As usual comments and reblog are very welcomed, and I hope you like this little story ! :) :
My masterlists : @ella-ravenwood-archives
_________________________________________________
You could see him, there, out the corner of your eye, that infamous smug look on his face. And you were currently trying to ignore him, drinking your coffee and pretending to read a book.
Infuriating. The boy was infuriating.
And he knew it.
Dick smirked, knowing indeed full well that you weren’t able to completely ignore him and how he kept staring at you, clearly waiting for you to ask him what was going on.
But you refused. Stubborn.
You were not going to play this game. Not today. You woke up on the wrong side of the bed, had a tough day at work waiting ahead of you, and getting annoyed at your son that early in the morning was not on your schedule.
As if he cared. Little sh*t.
He knew what he was doing. He’d done this kind of thing a million times ever since he first came into your life, barely eight years old and already too smart for his own good.
Finally, realizing you weren’t going to react at him obnoxiously looking at you, he says, a hint of mischievousness in his voice :
“Moooooom” and you know he’s about to tell you something just to mess with you. You hear it in his intonation. This is a “Mooooom” that means : “I’m about to say something that is going to piss you off, and I’m gonna have fun doing it.”
And so he continues :
“Are you aware there’s rumors spreading fast that you’re apparently one of Gotham’s most prominent drug lord ?”
There’s a short silence. You know, the time for you to process what he just said. And then you slowly put your book down. Turn to him, trying to stay as calm as possible (because WTF IS THAT RUMOR ??), and say, the tension in your voice palpable :
“Excuse me ?!”
He nods, taking a fake grave expression, showing you the headline of one of Gotham’s most famous newspaper, and answers :
“Oh yeah. There’s pictures of you going in dark alleys with packages and all. Very sus mom.”
He knows he successfully just got on your nerve. His condescending tone, his expression that seemed to say : “really mom ? I expected better from you”, and the fact he most definitely was telling that to you JUST to irritate you.
Yes. Mission : success, as you exclaim :
“Wh-OH HEY ! You know why I do that !!”
************
Yes. Of course he knows. Is that going to stop him from getting a rise out of you though ? Hell no. He always thought it was amusing, when you’d get annoyed at him. He LOVED to push all your buttons, and he was probably, amongst your children, the best at it.
Although, they all had quite a talent to get on your nerves when they wanted to.
Contrary to popular belief, you were far from being a perfect mother. Sometimes, whether on purpose or not, your kids annoyed you. You didn’t have an endless amount of patience. Not every day was rainbows and sunshine, sometimes you weren’t in the mood.
And your kids ? Well, if only they didn’t have the joyous hobby of purposefully seeking you out when you were in those moods, just to annoy you further (the point was to get you very mad, so you’d evacuate your bad mood, and then you’d feel better...and it worked every time, you’d get incredibly irritated, and then things would just diffuse by themselves).
Jason
Oh my God JASON. That little...
Jason was a MASTER at annoying you on purpose. He never did that when he was a kid, too afraid you’d send him away if he was too much of a nuisance (a thought that genuinely broke your heart).
But after he died and came back to life ? After all the hurt he went through, and the resentment that neither you nor Bruce killed the Joker ? Well, even as he slowly came to forgive you, he would sometime get small revenge by being a brat.
Leaving his dirty close RIGHT NEXT TO THE LAUNDRY BASKET. He’d never fully close drawers or cupboard doors. He’d always put back empty bottles in the fridge. He was the greatest at stealing every single phone charger in the house. He’d tell you that he needed something just after you just went grocery shopping. He’d leave the shower curtain just outside the bath, so that the entire bathroom was a goddamn swamp...Any petty thing you could think of ? He would do. Just to annoy you.
And it worked.
Whether he thought it was funny when you got mad, or because he just wanted to act out a little revenge.
It always worked.
Damian and Tim
Damian and Tim worked in a team, to manage to piss you off. They, in fact, perfected their technique so well that it was impossible for you not to get annoyed at them.
They did it when they were bored, to get a rise out of you, which they found very amusing (as long as you didn’t actually got angry, cause you were scary when angry...but annoyed ? Oh that, that was fun).
Yes. They were very proficient in the act of “squabbling”.
Getting into arguments with each others over the most trivial things ever. It had the great tendency to exasperate you. Just the other night, they were taking great pleasure into arguing with each other over who had the most french fries in their plate. They LOVED to argue over literally nothing, because they knew it greatly irked you, which they just found funny.
Cassandra
Your daughter was an angel, wasn’t she ? Always so nice, attentive to others, caring...Yeah. Yeah she was all that. But she also wasn’t perfect. And when she was bored, she’d often purposefully get on your nerve so you’d take care of her.
“Bored.” She’d say repeatedly, and then proceed to sigh every two seconds, right in your ear, up until you paid attention to her.
Oh, and she always ALWAYS stole your favorite clothes, never to be returned..
Duke
Duke was insidious in his way to annoy you. There was ONE thing he’d always do, because he thought it was funny to see you and Bruce panic and rush :
Every time there was an important school event, or somewhere you had to be for him, he’d remind you barely half an hour before said event and pretend like he told you about it ages ago, and you forgot. It was always nerve wracking, to suddenly have to find free time. And it was particularly frustrating, because he would enjoy himself way too much during those times.
Damn brats.
So,yes. You weren’t the perfect mother. And although you often felt a pang of guilt when you were annoyed at them, you also were aware this was normal and that you couldn’t always be at your best.
Especially when they were purposefully getting on your nerves.
Like right now, as Dick thought it extremely funny that you were accused by the Gotham Sun (one of the city’s most infamous tabloid newspaper) of being a prominent drug lord !
************
Obviously, you were panicking over it. What if this sprout Gotham PD to put their nose in your business ? What if it lead to them discovering the truth about your family of vigilantes ?? Oh, and the fact your eldest son was finding it so amusing didn’t help.
“You out of all people know why I do that !”
“I do. But the people of Gotham don’t.”
His smirk is even wider now, and you’re fuming. How dare he make light of this very important situation ?! Especially since he knew the truth.
It became a habit, over the years, that during some nights, you would bring food to your family while they’re on duty...You certainly never expected the media to completely misunderstand your totally normal back and forth in dark alleyways late at night !
Taking food to them was the only sure way you knew they’d eat (of course, you wouldn’t go out when there was immediate danger in Gotham, just during normal “shifts”).
Dick was fine with everything. Ever since he was a little boy, he had a great appetite and it was sometimes a wonder to you how he never gained weight. Sure, he worked out a lot, but you also often saw him eat his entire meal, and then eat whatever his siblings didn’t finish...You all called him “the garbage can” when he was eating. He’d literally finish everyone’s plate, no matter what was in it. So bringing him food was easy, anything would do.
Jason had always been fond of burgers. You know what’s the good thing about burgers ? You can make declinations of it infinitely. Make different kind of patty (meat or veggie), change the kind of bread, the filling etc. That meant that although he always asked for burgers, he often had a diverse food option available to him whenever you’d do your little delivery service.
Tim was a picky eater, and was the toughest to cook for. Things had to be at a certain temperature or he wouldn’t eat it (he had sensory issues). He didn’t like change, and often ate the same meals, which had to be cooked by you or Alfred, or he just wouldn’t eat it.
Damian loved your veggie sandwiches, and anything from the falafel place on fifth avenue. He wasn’t a picky eater, as long as there were no meat, he was pretty much good. He always thought your cooking, even the most rudimentary of things, was delicious.
Cassandra was a huge fan of gyozas, and you would always bring her an assortment of it, whether homemade or not. Shrimps, chicken, pork, veggie...She loved it all, and it was quite impressive how much she could ingest, given her size.
Duke had fancy tastes. Ever since he came to live with you and Bruce, he’d discover a cuisine he never got to try before...And it stuck with him. What other kid would ask for caviar sandwiches, lobster rolls and other high end salmon for dinner ? It amused you greatly, and honestly, you were glad he found a new passion in food. He even followed gastronomy blogs now. So you’d bring whatever he wanted to him, often using your billionaire status to not rise suspicion in the fact that you’d ask fancy gastronomic restaurants to “take away” their meal. They just took it as another caprice.
Bruce ? Bruce would take anything you gave him, quite like Dick. However, unlike his son, his children often had to remind him to eat his food, as he had a tendency to get too entranced in his work. Your kids definitely snitched on him, and so, so he wouldn’t make you mad, he took a habit of eating the things you brought him automatically. How many times a thug was taken down by a Batman who had half a sandwich in his mouth ? Probably too many times.
Yes. You had a little “Batmom’s food delivery” thing going on, driving all around town as your kids and husband were often scattered all over the place, to give them their meals.
In retrospect, yeah. To anyone outside your family, this probably looked a little shady ! Who saw you ? Oooh this was dangerous.
If someone noticed you were going in dark alleyways late at night, with packages in your hand, and then would come out without them, it could be dramatic for your family. What if you were actually followed ? And people saw you give the food to your family ? They’d surely discover their identities in no time !
This was terrible. And oh you wished your son wasn’t cracking himself up right now, thinking about how people might believe now that his mom was a drug dealer !!
It true, that it was funny to think about. (Y/N) Wayne, prominent figure in Gotham’s charity scene, wife of the richest man in the city and one of the richest person in the country, often seen as an excellent mother and faithful wife...dealing drugs during her free time ?
You could see the irony in it all. How this “drug” thing was drastically going against the image you wanted to give the media (a false image of course, because you always appeared “perfect” in public, but in real life, you were often quite a mess. Or, in other words : human).
Bruce and you carefully crafted your public figure for years, for it to be completely shattered by this rumor...
It was even worst, that in the headline, they were involving Bruce and his possible reaction to discovering you were supposedly dealing drugs ! For sure he would have to make a public statement, and how to explain your late venture into Gotham’s dangerous streets ?
Damn the media, and their nosy journalists. Who even noticed you were doing this ?? Who noticed you, in casual close and not even using one of your many fancy cars, at 3 am, roaming the city ??
You were going mad, and while you were overthinking everything, your son kept imitating the media and inventing more and more outrageous possible rumors about you (”(Y/N) Wayne, definitely cheating on her husband with Batman”), driving you even madder.
************
It was infuriating how everyone but you seemed to take the news lightly.
You were now all around the breakfast table, and the news of that tabloid title quickly spread. Of course it did. Dick made sure the first thing every one saw when coming in the room, was that said newspaper.
“Mom, are you a drug dealer ?!” Tim exclaimed, fakely shocked, taking an over the top tone. Damian, who was right next to him, added :
“And you were my role model ! I’m so disappointed...If even you are bad, who can I trust ?!”
He had a knack for theatrics, and his siblings giggled as he splayed himself on the table, as if he had fallen into great despair.
“And you dare to lecture me...How ironic.”
Jason said, shaking his head in a way that was so obnoxious to you.
“And I thought you were a respectable woman. The disillusion is too grand for me to even fathom it.”
Duke and his high and mighty way of talking make his siblings burst out in laughter, while you’re boiling inside. How dare they make fun of you in such a serious situation ??
“Mom. No chill.”
Noooo, et tu, Cassandra ? She was clearly enjoying the events too. And if you weren’t so annoyed, you would be touched by how close your kids were. How they had such a great “partner in crime” dynamic, getting along so well. Ah, if only they weren’t ganging up against you right now !
“Am I going to have to arrest you ? I do recall you don’t mind handcuffs though...”
Bruce says, smirking (a kind of smile way too similar to Dick’s, that definitely got on your nerve). And you’re pretty sure you just reached a level of annoyance like never before.
“Ew dad, what the Hell ?! Can you not ? Breaking the mood a little here..”
If you weren’t so annoyed (and worried), you would’ve definitely taken the perch Bruce was extending to you, and play into it, acting all lovey dovey with him so your children’s want of messing with you would vanish, disgust taking its place instead (followed by them quickly leaving).
The fact you don’t react though, shows them you’re actually worried and worked up and...they drive the nail into the coffin even further.
You were their mom. They loved you. Deeply and dearly. But did that stop them from driving you absolutely crazy, and messing with you ? Absolutely not. They knew that this situation was actually nothing serious (rumors about your family were plenty, and they always died down quickly).
And hey, let’s be honest, you messed with them often too. So let them have their fun a little. Dick continues, taking a pensive voice :
“Mmm, this could be honestly a problem.”
And then, all “hell” break loose as they each give a little comment, infuriating you more and more :
“Yes, what if there is a police warrant to search the Manor ?”
“Frankly mom, I expected better of you.”
“Right ? I’m so disappointed. This could be the end of everything for us, all because you weren’t careful enough.”
“Honestly, we could’ve lived without your food’s delivery anyway.”
“Moooom, drugs ? Really ?”
“Are you a drug dealer mom ? ARE YOU ?”
“You know what we do to drug dealers right ?”
“ARE YOU A DRUG DEALER MOM ? TELL US THE TRUTH ? ARE YOU SELLING “OREGANO” IN THE STREETS ?!”
Oh. Oooh little sh*ts.
The hyperbolic way they dramatized everything, and how their tone was so condescending and over the top...This was it.
This was the moment that they got on your never so bad, that everything slowly diffused itself. You know, like how a kettle suddenly goes into hypertension, “screaming” loudly, and then stops when the water is fully boiled ?
This moment always came, when they purposefully tried to annoy you (which might be their ultimate unconscious goal ? To make you feel better ? Who knows, there was also the very real possibility that they just liked to drive you mad).
You’d get obviously upset, which amused them. They’d push your buttons to the max. You’d talk back to them, to their great enjoyment. And then, poof.
It was over.
They left, snickering, content that they managed to get the better of you.
You sighed, frustrated at yourself that they, once again, won.
And it was over.
“Every time, huh ?”
Bruce said, also pretty amused by the way your children could get you to your boiling point in no time (and to be fair, they also drove him crazy on purpose).
“Yeah. Every freaking time.”
Rumors of you being a drug lord was definitely going to be used by your children to get on your nerves. If only you’ve had had a head’s up ! You turn to your husband, your eyes narrowing at him :
“You knew, didn’t you ?”
He acts all innocent, and answers :
“Knew what, exactly ?”
“About that article ? No way you wouldn’t know before it was printed. You know everything.”
“Do I, now ?”
“Bruce...”
“What if I knew ? What are you going to do about it ?”
Oh. Oh your husband too, could be a little sh*t. He definitely knew about it. And didn’t tell you because he knew what your kids would do. He knew they’d notice before you, and use it to mess with you.
“You know, my heart, you better be careful. You won’t know when, nor where, but one day, I’ll take my revenge.”
“Mmm, weren’t you the one that told me revenge is a fool’s game ?”
“Was I ? Can’t recall.”
“You’re getting more suspicious every second, maybe you really are a drug lord, my love.”
You glare at him, as he wraps his arms around your waist and bring you closer :
“Just you wait mister Wayne, there’ll be hell to pay.”
“Mmm, I’m awaiting with great expectations.”
One last smirk, one last sigh from you, and then you’re kissing. Deeply, and passionately. Because you have a lot of stress and frustration to release.
But oh, if he thinks a good kiss will make you forget...
************
You don’t know why you worried so much.
Or why you let your children get the better of you like that.
Of course Bruce would’ve had a contingency plan. Of course, he would keep an eye on the only newspaper he didn’t own in Gotham. They had a tendency to spread fake news about your family. And in a way, it did a great disservice to them, because nowadays, less and less people took them seriously.
Their bias against Bruce Wayne was showing too much. Like that ridiculous time their headline stated : “Bruce Wayne, is he Batman ?” which at the time everyone thought was SO ridiculous ! Nobody could fathom the famous “Brucie Wayne” being this hyper-violent vigilante Batman. Plus, at the time, both of them had been seen at the same place at the same time (thanks to Alfred). In a way, the fact this newspaper, which was owned by none other than Oswald Cobblepot, was always trying to defame your family, made it easier to discredit it.
It did came close very often to ruining everything though. Fortunately, Bruce always had a plan.
Like right now.
There was no point in pretending you guys hadn’t heard of the rumors. In fact, playing dumb right now would only confirm the Gotham Sun (Cobblepot’s newspaper) claim that you were guilty. So Bruce called a press conference, and in a very Bruce way, turned the situation around completely.
You were reminded, once again, why you loved that man so much. You knew he hated to speak publicly, but unfortunately often was forced to. When it came to you though ? He didn’t find it hard to speak. And he spoke very well. A little scary in a way, how manipulative he could be at times. How he could turn a situation to his advantage, just with his words.
The fact that the rumor of you being a drug lord came from Oswald Cobblepot’s newspaper made it easy to disband it.
First, because again, the bias against your family was well known and often made people suspicious of negative things posted about you all. But second, “The Penguin”s shady activities were a well known “secret”, and talking about his “alleged” ties to the narcotic industry in Gotham was enough.
Oswald Cobblepot was not a liked man. The Waynes though ? Everyone loved you. A little too much at times (it made making any kind of mistakes very scary, because you would risk disappointing a lot of people etc etc).
Bruce let you speak, and you explained that yes. You were the one going in alleyways with packages...for the homeless of Gotham ! You had no involvement in drugs ! It was actually a well known fact you hated drugs ! After what happened to your family...(everyone loved a good sob story).
It was true, that when you brought food for your family, you always left some for people in needs. And it was easy to believe, for the people of Gotham.
They knew your family. They knew how involved the Waynes were in bettering the city.
And so the story ended, the rumor vanished...Except in your home.
This thing about you being a “drug lord” just became another way for your children to mess with you, and annoy you to great length.
Damn brats.
_________________________________________________
I was thinking about what the Batfam eat when they spend long nights out, and how neither Alfred nor Batmom would actually let them skip a meal and...here we are. I hope you liked this ! Comments and reblogs are always beyond appreciated <3 !
Also, I was thinking about how sometimes, my brother and I purposefully annoy our mother (and it works each time) just because we think it’s funny when she gets mad over small things, and whether the Batkids would do it too haha. And I think the answer is : definitely. So I added, last second, a little part about it.
#Batmom#Batman x Reader#Bruce Wayne x Reader#Batfam#Batfam x Reader#Nightwing x reader#Richard Grayson x Reader#Damian Wayne x Reader#Battinson x reader#Robin x Reader#Jason Todd x reader#Tim Drake x reader#Cassandra Cain x reader#Duke Thomas x Reader#Red hood x reader#Batfamily x reader#Fem!Reader#Batman imagine#Damian Wayne imagine#Tim Drake imagine#Richard Grayson imagine#Jason Todd imagine#Cass Cain imagine#Batmom x batfam#Battinson#Older one of course#(because I just watch The Batman movie and I can't imagine anyone else while writing fics right now)#(and it makes sense how I write Bruce for him to be an older Battinson he's mainly based on comics where Bruce was like that in his first#years)
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
I really like the way that The Owl House is handling Hunter’s trauma.
In Hunting Palismen, the way that he was able to just talk to Luz so freely was a nice touch that it’s heartbreaking to see the way he just stops himself from talking about Wild Magic. Wild Magic is clearly a topic he’s passionate about and wants to talk more about and probably would love to talk to Luz about it.
This is without mentioning when he gets back to Emperor’s Coven.
In Eclipse Lake when he glances at Luz’s messages to Amity, he just assumes the worst despite meeting Luz and should know that she would never threaten anyone in a million years. But his thought process is so clear. If Belos loves Hunter and treats him this way, then that must mean that Luz would treat Amity the same way if actually loves her.
Later, when he realizes that there’s no blood, he says “I’m digging my grave.” This isn’t a normal thing to just say. He’s clearly scared of what Belos is going to him that he prefers death. Then when’s fighting Amity, he’s clearly not in his right mind. Especially when he shouts “you really wanna help? Then give me that key!”
Every time I rewatch this fight I just want to give him a hug.
Next time when Hunter shows up is in Any Sport in a Storm and even though a lot of the scenes are played more for humor by poking fun at how disconnected he is from everyone else, it’s still an insight into his personal life.
He’s so brainwashed into thinking that the Emperor’s Coven is the best choice and just simply doesn’t understand that working all year, and waking up before the sun rises are all positive things. It’s really no wonder that he has eye bags.
His brainwashing is also clear in Hollow Mind. When he and Luz look through Belos’s memories. There are so many clear signs that what Belos is doing is wrong and evil but he still gives Belos the benefit of the doubt (even saying that Belos doesn’t have guilt).
Then Belos reveals himself and flicks his hair made me teared up.
(Even while typing this out and seeing this gif play repeat hurt to watch)
Growing up, my mom found a bunch of events for me to take that have talked about domestic abuse and how to identify it. And she mostly able to find those because of her job and if not for those events, I’m almost positive I would’ve missed a lot of these signs. So I’m really happy that there’s more characters, like Hunter, that are experiencing domestic abuse in this way. Especially since TOH’s demographic is for young kids and hopefully some kids that may be in the same situation as Hunter (or even the Blight kids for that matter) can see the position they’re in and realized that they are being abused.
But something else that makes it easier to see the abuse is by seeing the difference of how Eda treats Luz.
Eda hates the Azura books but she allows Luz to talk about them and read them because she knows that it makes Luz happy.
She has so many potions around the house that constantly drinks even though she hates the taste. She also still takes responsibility for herself whenever she does cause damage as the owl beast.
Whenever Luz makes a mistake/does something dumb, Eda uses that as a time to give Luz advice (my favorite one being “ Look, [Luz], everyone wants to believe they're ‘chosen’. But if we all waited around for a prophecy to make us special, we'd die waiting. And that's why you need to choose yourself.”)
When Luz wanted to go to school (even though Eda hated the idea) she did her best to get her in after undoing all the damage she did as a teenager.
After hearing how sad Luz was that she didn’t get a Palisman, she and King were out all night and stole palistrom wood just for Luz.
Eda constantly goes above and beyond her adoptive daughter.
If Eda was in Belos’s shoes, she would’ve never sent Hunter to fight the Selkidomus and if she did, she at least go with him. He would probably talk nonstop about Wild Magic (even if she got tired of hearing it). If the Owl Beast ever acted up, she would do her best to keep it tame and even if couldn’t, she would still apologize for any harm that came to Hunter. If Hunter went on his own to get Titan blood, she would lecture him about not doing dangerous stunts like that but would still be proud of him for what he did.
#toh#the owl house#hunter#toh hunter#belos#emperor belos#philip wittebane#eda clawthorne#edalyn clawthorne#luz noceda#tw mentions of domestic abuse#tw mentions of child abuse
187 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello ! Could you do a harry × hufflepuff!reader with the promps 6 ans 14 ? Thank you !😊😊
A/N: Hi! Sorry if it’s a bit long... This was the first request I got off anon, lmao
ENJOY!!
Prompts used:
6. 'Don't make me hex you into the next year! ' 'I'd like to see you try.' 14. ‘My Ammortentia smells like you...’
Strawberries: Harry Potter X Hufflepuff!Reader
It was just another day in Slughorn’s Potions class, you stirring your cauldron while daydreaming.
‘Who do you think yours will smell like?’ asked Luna. ‘I feel mine is going to be a Crumple-Horned Snorcack.’
You stuffed your knuckles into your mouth to prevent yourself from giggling. ‘I, um, don’t know.’
‘What do you smell? I know it’s weird... for you, having a soulmate or whatever.’
See, that was one of the things you adored about Luna.
You couldn’t possibly keep a secret around her, somehow, she just knew. But it also allowed you to seek her consolation at times without having to embarrass yourself by telling her what it was.
Why?
Well, she was Luna Lovegood after all.
You were one of the best potion students, and were fairly good at all your other classes, Luna and Cho kept asking you why you weren’t a Ravenclaw.
You just hoped your Potion skills could help you find out who you were meant to be with...
You swallowed, snapping out of your daze. ‘Uhm, yeah, not sure. Hope it’s someone nice.’
‘That’s sweet.’ Luna remarked in her same, breathless voice.
You smiled.
‘Alright, now, time’s up.’ Slughorn clapped his hands together. ‘Who wants to share what their Ammortentia smells like? Miss Diggory?’
You cursed internally. ‘Yes, Professor.’
You took a sniff. ‘Sir, it’s, um, treacle tart, um.... pumpkin juice? Yes, and...’
You sniffed again.
‘... muddy grass?’ You spoke.
‘Very good, miss Diggory!’
‘What was it?’ Luna asked as you left. ‘The muddy grass?’
‘Can you stop doing that?’ you joked. ‘It’s freaky.’
‘Don’t change the subject Y/N.’
You sighed. ‘It smelled like, I dunno like quidditch robes or something. Maybe it’s a sporty guy.’ You mumbled.
You didn’t have to specify who, it was Luna.
‘How do you know what boys’ quidditch robes smell like?’ Luna questioned as you whacked her with your book.
-----------
You traced shapeless patterns on the grass, softly caressing your yellow scarf with your other hand.
It was a scarf you were very proud of.
Your brother had given it to you, and it was the last thing he ever did give you, to be completely honest...
Your tiny ‘revisit’ was interrupted by a sneer behind you.
‘Hey Diggory, who did your potion smell like?’ Malfoy asked in his horrible, drawling voice. ‘Longbottom?’
‘I seriously don’t understand what you’ve got against Neville.’ You spoke. ‘And no, if you must know. It smelt like someone else.’
‘Bet it was a grave.’ Malfoy sniggered. ‘Oh, where’s your brother?’
You tensed up immediately, but stroked your scarf to calm down.
‘Patience is one of the most important qualities a true Hufflepuff should possess,’ Cedric had told you. ‘And you, Y/N/N, are one of the best Hufflepuffs I know.’
‘Where is he?’ Malfoy continued.
‘Shut up.’ You spoke through gritted teeth.
‘It’d be nice if he’d passed some of his qualities onto you.’ Pansy lazily called. ‘At least he was good-looking. Look at you, bag of pickled toads.’
‘Shut up, prat.’ You warned.
‘Blimey Diggory... is your brother dead?’ Malfoy asked. ‘I didn’t even notice...’
That was the last straw.
‘
Oh, fuck patience.’ You muttered under your breath, lunging at him.
‘Argh!’ Malfoy groaned as you socked him square in the stomach. ‘Geroff me, you lunatic!’
‘What’s going on?’ Harry, Ron and Hermione had approached you.
Understanding the situation, Ron and Harry both seized either arm of yours while Hermione ripped Draco off of you before both of you could hex each other too badly.
‘Get-off-me!’ you snarled in Harry’s face.
‘No.’
‘GET-OFF-STUPID-PRAT-’ you struggled against his firm grasp. ‘IDIOT-CEDRIC-NOT-FUNNY-’
‘What exactly are you trying to say?’ Hermione asked, confused.
‘Shut up Granger, I don’t want to talk about this.’ You spat, snatching your bag up and ‘accidentally’ whacking Harry with it, before leaving.
-----------
‘What happened?’ your friend, Hannah had asked when you had stormed into the common room.
‘Malfoy.’ You curtly answered. ‘And Potter.’
‘You know, I don’t see why you hate him so much.’ Ernie walked up.
‘Who doesn’t hate Malfoy?’
‘No, no, I meant Harry.’ He spoke.
You groaned.
This was a subject they’d brought up millions of times.
‘He is a prat, for one.’ You began. ‘He’s so bloody proud... all the teachers fawning over him, Slughorn calling him ‘special’, heck, even Snape would be happy now that he’s suddenly become excellent at Potions. I reckon he cheats off Granger.’
‘Nah, Hermione isn’t like that.’ Hannah said.
‘And he is thick-headed.’ You finished.
‘Oh, is that it?’ Ernie smirked. ‘You’re jealous of him?’
‘OI!’
-----------
‘Good morning.’ Professor McGonagall crisply greeted. ‘In the five years you’ve been with me, you have learnt that Transfiguration is not a topic to be messed around with. And as you start your sixth year, I expect you all to behave more mature with this subject, especially you, Mr. Smith.’
Zacharias Smith scowled at her.
‘Now.’ She continued. ‘Who remembers what I had told you all at the beginning of your first year at Hogwarts? Miss Diggory?’
‘Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts,’ you recited, trying to imitate her voice. ‘Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned.’
The class howled with laughter.
‘Charming, Miss Diggory.’ Professor McGonagall sarcastically remarked, but you could’ve sworn you saw the corner of her lips twitch.
You grinned to yourself.
‘Now, as Miss Diggory said.’ She spoke. ‘There will be no messing around. I demand silence as I declare... the Gryffindors shall be joining us today.’
You knew by ‘silence’ she meant your groans.
You stuffed your handkerchief into your mouth before groaning quietly.
The red-scarved students made their way in.
McGonagall began assigning partners.
‘Weasley with Macmillan, Brown with Smith, Granger with Abbott and Potter... with Diggory.’
‘Not with him!’ you yelled at the same time as Harry yelled ‘Not with her!’
‘Yes, definitely together.’ The Professor mumbled.
You scoffed as Harry sat next to you, both of you glaring daggers at each other.
‘Look, I don’t want to fail this subject.’ You warned. ‘My career depends on it, so will you try to act civil?’
‘Yeah, I’ll try.’ Harry sneered. ‘Do you even have a career plan?’
‘For your information!’ you hotly began. ‘I do. I want to become an Auror.’
‘Auror?’ a small flicker of interest flashed in his eyes but vanished as you rolled your eyes and turned to your work.
Harry sniffled.
He paused, terror rising up inside him.
He croaked out. ‘Do you... can you smell strawberries? And vanilla?’
‘Oh.’ You frowned. ‘Um, yeah, the strawberries would be my shampoo and... the vanilla would be my lotion, why?’
‘No reason.’
---------
‘Oh, merlin’s arse.’ You muttered, trying to get past a horde of boys wanting to ask you to Slughorn’s Party.
You knew they didn’t like you; they just wanted an excuse to attend it.
‘FOR THE LAST TIME, SOD OFF!’ you yelled, shoving past.
They still followed you.
You ran to the library, where you met a certain Chosen One.
‘Don’t mind me.’ You huffed. ‘Please, I’ll do anything, just don’t tell them I’m here!’
Harry opened his mouth to say that it was alright, but stopped as a smirk settled on his face.
‘No.’
‘What?’ you asked. ‘Merlin’s arse, please! I told you, I’ll do anything!’
‘Anything?’ he cheekily asked.
‘Anything.’
‘Hmm... let’s see.’ Harry smirked further, thoroughly enjoying himself.
'Don't make me hex you into the next year!' you warned.
'I'd like to see you try.'
Brandishing your wand, you tried thinking of a jinx while Harry stood there with an amused expression on his face.
‘I’ll tell them you’re here.’ He said lazily.
‘Oh, alright!’ you snapped. ‘You win, I’ll give you whatever you want, now let me hide!’
‘Promise?’
‘Promise, MOVE!’
You dove behind a shelf and stayed.
Meanwhile, Harry was having the time of his life.
He wasn’t going to rat you out to those guys anyway, but there was something on his mind and he couldn’t pass up the perfect opportunity.
As a stampede of boys rushed over, Harry realised why you were so desperate to hide.
‘She’s not here.’ He coolly spoke. ‘Try the Hall.’
‘How should we know you’re not helping her hide?’ a Ravenclaw demanded.
‘Have you met me?’ Harry sarcastically said. ‘I don’t help my enemies.’
Yes, as lame as it had sounded, they seemed to buy it.
‘I don’t help my enemies?’ you questioned, climbing out of the shelf.
‘It... it sounded cooler in my head.’ Harry muttered.
You supressed a giggle. ‘Well, O’ Chosen One, what can I do for you?’
‘Er, about that.’ Harry began. ‘I wanna ask you something first?’
‘Yes?’
He smirked again. ‘Do you actually have a date?’
You covered your face and groaned. ‘No, they don’t even like me, they just want to get out of detention or come to the party, most of them.’
‘Mmhmm.’ Harry said distractedly.
‘Do you have a date?’ you shot back.
‘I will, by the end of this hour.’ Harry nonchalantly replied.
‘Whatever.’ You huffed. ‘What do you want.’
‘Be my date for Slughorn’s Party.’
If you had been drinking water, you were sure you would’ve spit it out.
You opened and closed your mouth like a goldfish.
‘What?!’ you finally sputtered.
‘Be my date for Slughorn’s Party.’ He repeated.
‘No.’ you stated. ‘No, no, no way, no.’
‘You promised!’
‘WHY DO YOU WANT TO TAKE ME?’ you yelled. ‘Take Ginny Weasley or Cho or something.’
‘But I want to take you.’ He said.
‘Why?!’
‘Our deal did not include so many questions.’ Harry cut off. ‘You’re coming, that’s final.’
‘Oh, well, fine!’ you snarled, stomping off.
Damn your loyal arse.
----------
‘I look ridiculous.’ You remarked, looking in the mirror.
‘Nonsense, you look amazing!’ Hannah squealed. ‘I’m so jealous, I wish I could go too.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’ You muttered.
You were wearing a(n) F/C dress, complete with your H/C hair falling elegantly onto your shoulders.
‘Oh, I forgot to ask.’ Hannah spoke, ‘Who’s your date?’
‘You do not want to know the answer to that question.’ You said. ‘Believe me.’
Hannah shrugged. ‘You look hot! Have fun!’
You walked in the direction of the Gryffindor common room, waiting for your ‘date’ to come along.
‘Hurry up, Potter.’ You muttered.
As if on cue, a voice sounded behind you.
‘Someone say my name, Diggory?’
There he stood, in all his glory, Harry Potter, the Boy With a Large Smirk Plastered Across His Face.
‘Can you not do that?’ you whined.
‘What?’
‘That weird face.’ You spoke. ‘It’s annoying.’
‘My apologies. Shall we, m’lady?’ he offered you his arm in mock-kindness.
‘Of course.’ You played along, taking it.
‘Where is this positive energy when you threaten to break my arms almost ten
times a day?’ he quizzed in amusement.
‘Shut up.’
---------
Boring.
That’s how you were feeling.
You desperately wished you hadn’t agreed to come to this stupid party.
Harry seemed to notice your gloomy mood.
‘What’s wrong?’ he whispered.
‘Look at this.’ You muttered in disgust. ‘Look at all of them, sapping over each other when they barely know the other.’
He laughed. ‘Wanna slip out?’
‘Where are we going to go?!’ you asked in exasperation.
‘I know somewhere.’
---------
‘The Astronomy Tower?’ you questioned.
‘I like coming here when I’m bored.’ Harry shrugged. ‘Looking at the stars calms me.’
You nodded, understanding.
‘Let’s... sit.’
You sat down as Harry copied you, settling down next to you.
‘This is nice.’ You remarked.
‘What is?’
‘Not having to fight with you.’ You explained as Harry laughed.
‘Maybe we just assume too much.’ He suggested, causing you to giggle.
It was a sound pleasant to Harry’s ears, and for some reason, he wanted to hear it again.
‘I never asked.’ He began. ‘And I’m sorry. How have you been, er, holding up?’
He didn’t need to explain, you understood.
‘I’m fine.’ You answered. ‘I do miss him, awfully so, but... nothing’s changed much.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that it’s still the same.’ You explained. ‘Nobody comforts me. Nobody knows me as Y/N Diggory, my best friend or Y/N Diggory, the girl from Hufflepuff, none of that. I was always Y/N Diggory, Cedric Diggory’s stupid younger sister. And now I’m Y/N Diggory, the late Cedric Diggory’s mourning sister.’
‘Oh. That’s... well, at least you’ve got your parents.’ Harry mumbled.
You let out a mirthless laugh. ‘I’d trade places with you, then. See, it’s the same at home. I’m just... an extra waste of space. Even mum and dad preferred Cedric. I’m the useless one, you see. Next to their beautiful son Cedric, I was always second best. Y/N. Their second-born. The less talented one. The stupid one. The non-attractive one.’
Your voice cracked a bit at the end, but you composed yourself. ‘I’m being thick, you probably think I’m stupid.’
‘I don’t think you’re stupid.’ Harry muttered. ‘How come you never cry? Like Cho, I mean.’
‘Because I don’t want to appear weak for him.’ You sighed. ‘You see, as much everyone preferred Cedric over me, I still loved him. I loved him quite a lot, actually. He hated it when I cried. I remember once when we were young, Cedric fell out of a tree and hurt his leg so badly, I started crying because of how bad it looked. He didn’t have any of it. He always told me, ‘Whatever happens, Y/N/N, don’t cry. You’re strong. You’re tough. And I can’t bear seeing you in tears. If and when a day comes where you cry because of me, I swear I will never forgive myself.’ And there he was such an idiot. Put his name in the Goblet. Went along and got murdered by Voldemort, didn’t he?’
Harry didn’t speak, so you continued.
‘I just wonder.’ You whispered. ‘You know, if he’s watching us this very moment. Somewhere from up there.’
You gestured to the stars.
Your head was turned towards the sky, but Harry couldn’t stop staring at you.
‘And so I know.’ You said, ‘I know if I cry, he’s up there somewhere, feeling disappointed in me. I don’t need anymore of that. I’ve had enough of ‘Diggory’s sister Y/N’ and ‘The ugly one’ or ‘the useless one’ it’s maddening.’
‘I don’t think you’re useless.’ Harry whispered. ‘Nor ugly. And you always were Y/N Diggory to me.’
‘That’s a bit consoling.’ You mustered a weak smile. ‘Thanks.’
At that moment, a familiar smell made it’s way to your nose and you gasped.
‘Your hair.’ You shakily whispered. ‘It... it smells like fresh, muddy grass.’
‘Oh.’ Harry flushed. ‘Er, yeah, sorry, I had Quidditch earlier this evening.’
‘Oh my god.’ You muttered. ‘No way.’
‘What?’
‘If I tell you something, Potter.’ You began. ‘Don’t make fun of me.’
‘I would never.’
You swallowed. ‘I think...My Ammortentia smells like you...’
Harry didn’t speak.
‘Go ahead, laugh.’ You muttered, trying your best not to cry then and there. ‘Run away. Hex me or something.’
Harry couldn’t think straight.
Your delicious scent was ever-so inviting, the strawberries fresh in your newly shampooed hair.
His gaze kept unwillingly flickering to your soft-looking lips, covered in a light tint of cherry lip-gloss.
As the lips he was looking at pressed themselves into a think# line, his gaze shifted towards the rest of your face, and to his horror, you were crying.
‘No, no, no, no!’ he said quickly.
‘What?’ you hiccoughed a little, ‘Go ahead, call me names or just leave.’
‘No, Y/N!’ he pressed. ‘Don’t cry, no please. I didn’t mean... no, I was just thinking. I think my Ammortentia smelt like you too.’
You let out a tiny gasp.
Neither of you knew what you were doing, somehow, your lips had messily collided and were now moving in sync.
You brought out a hand and tangled it into Harry’s untameable hair as he softly caressed your cheek.
Both of you parted, lips swollen, gasping for breath.
‘Well...’ he began. ‘That was unexpected.’
382 notes
·
View notes
Text
again and again and again ; ushijima wakatoshi
pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader
synopsis: every august 13th, a void opens in your chest. the universe is one sick bastard.
tag(s): soulmate!au, very angsty, equally fluffy, reincarnation!au, prince!ushijima, rebel!ushijima. android!ushijima, dad!ushijima, pro-volleyball player!ushijima ; warning(s): lots of death n dying, suggestive themes, light profanity ; wc: 4.8k
a/n: happy birthday ushi!!! inspired by cloud atlas and the raven cycle but you don’t have to have seen either to understand this fic. tbh it’s just a bunch of different au’s tied together by the strings of fate lol. a thousand thank you’s to @dorkyama for beta-ing!
TOKYO, JAPAN, 2020
It’s another August 13th and Ushijima Wakatoshi might die today.
Glumly, you push away the plate of breakfast in front of you, cross your arms over the new space, and rest your forehead down as if in front of a grave.
“Please,” you beg with eyes shut. “Let Ushijima Wakatoshi live today.”
(You’ve whispered this phrase infinite times–– so often that it has a home in your mouth like a cavity.)
SOMEWHERE IN WASHINGTON, 2012
When you first meet Ushijima–– the first first time–– it’s evening and you’re lost in a meadow somewhere in Washington. Where exactly doesn’t quite matter and, even if it did, you wouldn’t be able to remember. At least, not at this moment. Because you see something most peculiar.
Under the half-lit sky, in the glade of overgrown sweet vernal grass and marigolds and daisies, a figure stands paler than the moon overhead.
The body belongs to a young man dressed in a sweater and slacks. His dark hair parts on the side, stopping right above a pair of firm dark eyes. Thin lips press in a perfunctory line, sharp nose radiates an aura of authority.
And yet, he looks lost.
“Hello?” you call out. The boy doesn’t respond, only continues to hover in the middle of the clearing with the same confounded expression on his face. So you ignore the pounding of your heart in your chest and inch closer until you’re just feet away, shivering. It’s a strangely cold day for July, you think.
“Can you tell me your name?” you ask. Seconds pass in silence as he stares past–– no, through–– you. With your thudding heartbeat and shallow breaths still the only sounds in the meadow, you realise that you may have to try something else.
Gently, you touch the pads of your fingers to his shoulder. A fresh wave of ice floods through your veins, raising goosebumps all over your skin. More curiously, though, your fingers fall through said shoulders. It feels like plunging your hand into a bucket of ice.
Eyes wide, you lunge backwards. A ghost?
No, ghosts aren’t real.
(If that’s the case, then what is he?)
At your touch, the boy’s head jerks up. Life floods his gaze. Blinking, he says, “Ushijima.” His voice is low and smooth, but quiet. Firm. He looks around the meadow as if seeing it for the first time.
“Is that all?”
Ushijima’s focus returns to you, this time with the addition of furrowed brows. His eyes are fixed on you in a way that makes you feel as if he’s reading your soul.
“That’s all there is.”
A million questions race through your mind and before you can decide which to ask first, his incorporeal figure vanishes from the meadow.
And you’re alone again.
Oddly enough, the way back to your aunt’s house comes naturally to you. Once inside the ancient wooden manor, you realise that the feeling that guided you back was the same that had led you to the meadow in the first place.
Then, you wonder, had you truly been lost?
Aunt Risa’s an eccentric woman in her thirties, always yabbering on about Mercury in retrograde and events that are yet to happen. Grandma had been the same. Clairvoyance, or what everyone claims is “clairvoyance”, supposedly runs in your family. You wouldn’t know, though, because apparently it skipped your mother. Coincidentally (or not), she’s extremely proud of her normality. And she’s also extremely proud that you, supposedly, are normal, too.
It’s safe to say that you don’t see your mother’s family often.
Still, she sent you here from New York to “connect with your roots”. And even though you know that’s a cover for “raise hell somewhere else for one summer”, you let yourself consider that it means getting acquainted with the mystic mumbo-jumbo you’ve ignored all these years. After all, nothing normal can explain what just happened in the field… right?
Good thing Aunt Risa isn’t normal.
“That’s Glendower’s Meadow you were just in,” she says with a twinkle in her eyes. “Lies atop a very powerful ley line.”
Ley lines, you learn, connect places around the world through electromagnetic forces. They are also able to transcend time, gravity, space… all forces that cannot be seen.
Aunt Risa adds that they do more than just connect places. “Soulmates countries apart can step on any point in the same line to see each other. It’s been said that the power ley lines emit is so strong that even soulmates worlds and years apart can meet in these little pockets of energy. Guess it tides you over til you’re destined to meet.”
Somehow, everything she says makes sense and doesn’t at the same time. Soulmates? Magic? None of this is real, is it?
“Now,” she continues, “it’s odd that you can use ley lines, though. Remember how you couldn’t tell a black jackal from a swan the last time you read tea leaves?”
You frown. At seven years old, you hadn’t exactly been trying.
“I guess there is something supernatural about you! You can’t deny how magical it is to have a love that transcends lifetimes…”
You don’t hear the rest of what she has to say. “Lifetimes?”
“Yup. Soulmates are the only people in this universe who go through reincarnation. The Universe is a hopeless romantic, letting her children fall in love again and again and again.”
And this explanation satisfies you because you’re sixteen, a little naive, and the Universe has never failed you before.
(She will.)
July passes in a honeyed haze: you spend every day with a content curve to your lips, thinking about a boy with eyes and hair dark as night.
Aunt Risa doesn’t have the heart to tell you that she’s seen his future in this life. And when you step out the creaky wooden door for the last time, ready to go back to the bustling jungle that is New York, she calls out to you with an expression you don’t yet recognise. “Don’t you worry, hun. You’ll see that Ushijima boy again.”
But not like this.
You’re about to get out of bed and dress for the first day of school when an out-of-control eighteen-wheeler runs his driver’s black SUV off the road. Ushijima Wakatoshi dies on August 13th in his timezone.
As it happens, you feel a strange sense of loss settle in. It’s like you’d been driving on the highway and just missed the last turn home.
(You’ll learn in the next life that you, in fact, do not have the gift of foresight. But you do have the curse of memory.)
PARIS, FRANCE, 1749
The year is 1749 and sunlight pours through the windows of Ushijima Wakatoshi’s second-floor bedroom.
In this life–– your second life–– you are a brilliant composer. The Universe, as you’ve guessed, follows no rules, no directions. Doesn’t even spare a glance at a linear timeline. Or perhaps, it’s time that isn’t linear. Either way, you try not to think about things out of your control. Life is good now.
At the sound of your fingers waltzing across ivory and ebony, Ushijima slowly sits up in the king-sized, soft linen sheets falling to reveal his chiselled torso.
“Good morning,” he rasps, a content smile tugging at his lips. “You look enchanting as always.”
The melody stops. Between the lid and music rack, your eyes meet–– his gentle, yours mirthful. “You flatter me,” you deny with a cheeky grin. Still, you rise (wearing his robes, Ushijima notes) from your seat and stroll over to your lover, pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth. “Happy birthday, darling.”
“Thank you,” he murmurs against your lips. “I live another year just for you.” Ushijima really means that–– in fact, he believes with his whole heart that he was made for you and you him. There’s no other way to explain how your bodies mould so perfectly together, how you understand each other without even speaking, how time feels like it doesn’t exist whenever you’re around. Your meeting at Duke La Trémoille’s ball could only have been the work of Fate’s nimble fingers.
(It was. A ley line runs underneath the Duke’s family château.)
You hum, thankful that this time you have the privilege to love him as he lives. Your last life was spent agonising over the only memory you had of him. “And what does this day have in store for the man of the hour?” The words that leave your lips morph into bubbling laughter as he moves aside on the bed and pulls you into his embrace. Still giggling, you kiss his bare chest, relishing in how secure his arms feel around your waist.
“Mother is hosting a ball tonight in my honour,” he says. That you are not invited to, he doesn’t add. He doesn’t have to, though, because you know that she doesn’t approve of you. Not being French is the main reason why, but there’s also the fact that you’re a musician. A talented, accomplished, royally recognised musician, sure, but that doesn’t change how at the end of the day, all you have to your name is inked paper.
And Ushijima Wakatoshi is first in line for the throne of France.
“Ah.”
It’s hardly fair for you to feel slighted–– you knew what you were getting into the second the Crown Prince, notorious for his aloof nature, invited you to Versailles to perform for him and his friends.
(In his defense, Duke Tendou had forced his hand by threatening to throw a fit in front of the Queen, but only after he’d seen the painfully restrained wonder in the prince’s eyes.)
Still, you yearn for something more.
Ushijima feels your body stiffen in his arms and knows the moment has soured. “You can never be Queen of France,” he murmurs into your neck. Shivers crawl down your spine the same time tears prick at your eyes. “And I can never give you a throne.” It’s not the throne you yearn for.
“I know.” You curse whoever the lucky girl will be. And you curse Ushijima for reminding you that she will definitely not be you.
“I can only promise you my heart.” He presses his lips to the side of your neck. “My undying devotion.” A kiss to your exposed shoulder. “And my soul in every life we meet.” His hand slides under your chin and turns your head towards his. Soft lips move against yours while the pads of his fingers wipe away the tears that had spilled over your cheeks.
“Toshi, I must say that the literature tutor your mother hired is doing a marvellous job,” you murmur once you pull apart.
A short breath of amusement leaves his nose. “He’s only polishing a gem that already exists,” Ushijima counters.
You smile slyly, another witty remark ready to launch from your mouth, when three sharp knocks at the door cause both of you to freeze.
“My friends, the Devil approaches.” Tendou’s faint voice travels through the opulent front door.
Sighing, you slide off the bed and tug your day dress on. Without being asked, Ushijima ties the laces in the back together. “Tell your mother I said hello, won’t you?” you tease, kissing him deeply on the balcony.
“I’d prefer not to think about my mother with your lips pressed to mine, darling,” he replies.
You giggle softly, and with one leg dangling off the balustrade, say, “And careful not to wear yourself out dancing, Toshi. Expect a visit from me later.”
His sonorous laughter rings through the air as you jump and land deftly on the freshly cut grass below, running the whole way back to your humble apartment in the eleventh arrondissement.
Regrets of not sneaking into the ball will burn into your brain after Tendou arrives at your door later that evening with a faraway stare on his face.
Towards the end of the ball, Ushijima Wakatoshi is led away from the dance floor and into the gardens by his scheming younger brother Goshiki.
He doesn’t return. The beloved Crown Prince of France dies on his twenty-first birthday with a dagger in his chest and poison in his veins.
With two lives under your belt, you reach the cruel understanding that in every life you live, August 13th is the day that Ushijima Wakatoshi dies again and again and again.
In a sense, memory is foresight.
NEO SEOUL, 2144
Tomorrow, the Union Revolutionary Group exposes the government for their crimes against your people.
But tonight, your head rests against his chest–– a habit you picked up sometime after Germany, 1943, even though you are presently in Neo Seoul, 2144. To be honest, you’re not sure if it’s even 2144. Neo Seoul’s calendar isn’t like the one you went through your first few lives with and you’re certain one year here is equivalent to two back on the Earth you knew… or something like that. Either way, every August 13th passes under your nose without detection. Every day passes uneasily, because although you never truly know when anyone dies in any life, you really don’t know when he will in this one.
But hearing Ushijima’s heart beat firmly manages to take the edge off yours. Every pulse is a murmured confirmation that everything is still okay.
You jerk back when he stirs from sleep. Disorientated, Ushijima blinks at your dimly lit figure before registering that it’s you. A confused expression crosses his features. What had you just been doing?
“Is everything alright?” His voice is raspy with drowsiness but he sits upright against the headboard anyway.
“Yeah.”
“No, it’s not. Tell me what’s wrong.” Nothing ever slips past him–– at least, not when it comes to you. Still, you bite your lip and contemplate if it’s worth mentioning. Three years of working alongside the renegade Commander (and hundreds more from other lifetimes) have taught you that words of comfort do not belong in Ushijima’s vocabulary. But it’s the night before you, the only known freed Fabricant working with the Union, are going to expose the Unanimity’s enslavement of Fabricants to all inhabitants of Neo Seoul. And…
“I’m scared, Wakatoshi.”
He thinks you’re talking about tomorrow. His eyes dart to the holographic digits floating throughout his room. 12:02 AM. You’re talking about today, then. He’s not wrong–– you are afraid of today. But you’re also afraid every day.
Ushijima pauses, wondering what to say. He’s never felt fear the same way others do. Others might only see a myriad of ways they can fail or die but he simply sees a chance to prove himself. A chance to emerge victorious. “If you let yourself be scared,” he says, “then you lose without fighting. Fear is a wasted emotion. Even at your last breath, you should never be afraid.”
As you mull his words over in your head, a section of your hair falls in front of your face. Ushijima’s fingers twitch. Would it be too much to––
“Then what should I feel instead?” He stills.
The question hangs in the air, thickening until the spacious room feels suffocating. Normal people–– people you knew a couple of lifetimes ago–– would probably say something like “love” or “hope” or even “don’t”. You think Ushijima might, too.
But when Ushijima speaks, he says, “Feel right now.”
A shift in the moonbeam pouring through your surrounding glass walls casts a muted glow over your features, breaking through the darkness of the room. Ushijima’s olive eyes flash and fall to your shining lips.
His Adam’s apple bobs. Anticipation bubbles in your stomach.
You think that you might die tomorrow. He might die any day. What are you waiting for?
Feeling a fiery rush of blood surge through your veins, you close the distance between your bodies until the tips of your noses touch. Gently, your hand comes up to the back of his neck, feeling his pulse speed up under your fingers. He instantly reaches out, grips your waist firmly. Hot, uneven breaths fan across your face.
“What––”
“I know it’s forbidden between Fabricants and pure-bloods,” you breathe out, “but––”
Ushijima nudges his lips against yours. They move stiffly, unsurely, but it’s sincere. It’s his first kiss and it’s your… you’ve lost count by now. It doesn’t really matter, though. Past, future, or present, every one of his touches feels new.
Both of you might die tomorrow. But tonight, you both are so very alive.
And when his heart pounds, unmuffled, bare against yours, you are reminded to live now.
Twenty-one hours later, a laser beam whizzes past your ear.
“Go faster!” you shout over the wind, tightening your arms around Ushijima’s waist. “We have to get to the broadcast station now.”
“I’m trying,” he grits out, pressing his foot harder against the hoverbike’s pedal. You speed up, but only a little. “Fuck. Remember what I taught you about the laser pistols?”
“Always aim a little higher than you want to.” From the mirrors on the side, you see the corners of his lips quirk up. You reach for the gun in his belt.
Not a single police officer remains on your tail when you step foot into the broadcast station.
“We don’t have much time, miracle girl,” Tendou, a fellow Union soldier, says once you arrive. He punches the elevator button. Instantly, the chute opens. “Cameras have picked up on at least five Unanimity squads headed our way from the city.”
The sinking feeling that today out of all days might be August 13th suddenly weighs on your stomach. A shaky breath leaves your mouth.
Ushijima stops you before you can step in. Cupping your face with his large hands, the brunet gazes deeply into your eyes. “I believe in you,” he murmurs. “I believe in you.” His fingers brush against your cheekbones. You let your eyelids close, relishing in this stolen moment between two new lovers.
Ushijima presses his lips against yours, kissing you as if he’s trying to carve a message into your bones. He whispers his conviction one last time before stepping back and allowing Tendou to push you lightly into the elevator. The thought that Ushijima’s words allude to more than just faith nudges your brain as the two men grow smaller in your sight.
Halfway through your revelations, the Unanimity cuts through the metal doors of the station. Behind the glass panels encasing the radio room, you watch the shootout begin. Every bone in your body screams for you to join your comrades, but you remember what your orders are. No matter what happens, do not stop the broadcast. If the truth doesn’t come out now, the Union will have sacrificed everything in vain.
You will your voice to steady when Unanimity soldiers take out the Union soldiers hiding behind Tendou’s barricade.
You will your hands to unclench when Ushijima deftly slides over his squad’s barricade and tosses a plasma grenade towards a cluster of enemy soldiers, then picks off the survivors with his Union rifle.
You will your breath to endure when the brunet is blown back by a grenade tossed by another squadron. Ushijima’s cranium collides with the floor. His body stills; blood red as cherry wine pools around his head like a cruel halo. Swallowing, you push forth. You’re a soldier.
But you can’t help the way your throat dries or hands shake or lungs tighten when you see his head turn ever-so-slightly in your direction.
He smiles in his last breath.
(The Archivist asks if you loved Ushijima before you are taken away. You tell him you always have, do, will.
The Unanimity guillotine doesn’t scare you like you think it should. Knowing what and who waits ahead, it feels more like a kiss to your neck.)
QAASUURI, 3003
As you step out of the metal carriage, the ground beneath you begins to vibrate. This, as you’ve learned, can only mean that you are standing atop another ley line.
Olive eyes stare at you impassively when you look up. A dazzling array of awards and medals is pinned to his chest over a white military uniform. Compared to all the other soldiers around him, you gather that the deep purple cape over his shoulders means he’s someone important. Possibly your betrothed? You briefly recall another lifetime in which he’d been the crown prince of somewhere, and you, by a spectacular stroke of misfortune, had only been a composer then. Fighting back a smug grin, you muse that this time, you are a princess.
“Ushijima Wakatoshi, Captain of the Qaasuuri Royal Guard, at your service,” he says with a low bow. “King Washijou appointed me to ensure your safety during your courtship with the prince, your highness. These are trying times, especially with the war against Ibis.” Your heart falls. So it’s one of those lives.
Mustering the warmest smile you can, you curtsy and say, “Thank you, Ushijima. I hope we can get to know each other better.”
You do.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that the Qaasuuri are a race more android than human. But nothing about him feels artificial. He is as real as he was in Berlin. Atlantis. Cairo. Camelot. Hanoi. Olympus. Tallahassee. He feels as human, too.
You get to relearn the way his cheeks flare up when you call him Toshi and not Ushijima for his first time (force of habit)... and every subsequent time (at your pleasure).
You get to relearn his wry humour, how every-so-often his stony demeanour breaks after one of your quick jabs, usually in response to his agonisingly blunt remarks. (“You should have brought a coat, princess,” he notes with disapproval when you shiver in the chilly spring air. You promise him that you look better with hypothermia than in any Qaasuuri coat. An amused breath blows out from his nose. And though he doesn’t say a word more on the subject, his white jacket over your shoulders speaks more than enough.)
You get to relearn how his hands feel on your skin. The first lesson is your mistake: missing a step down the spiralling staircase on your way to dinner. Automatically, his hand grips your arm to pull you back. He uses a little more force than necessary, though, and tugs you into his firm chest. Neither of you can look at each other for the rest of the evening. The second is his mistake: reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you read in the palace library, somehow knowing it’s one of your pet peeves. Both of you freeze when his fingers accidentally brush against your cheek. Ushijima thinks he’s never felt skin softer than yours–– you think it’s been too long since he last touched you.
The third is neither a mistake nor just one of your doings. It happens on a cool autumn evening as the two of you walk through the palace gardens with your hands dangling haphazardly at your sides, knocking against each other again and again as if begging for an opening. Finally, you acquiesce. You slip your hand into Ushijima’s cold palms. And though nothing shows on his stony face, his heart whirrs like an overheating engine for the rest of your walk. He doesn’t let go until the iron palace comes back into view.
“We should stop,” he pants between fervent kisses, “before this gets out of hand.” You nip at his neck. “You’re betrothed to the prince––” you suck on the skin between his collarbones and throat, drawing a low groan from his lips “––and I can never give you a throne.”
You pull back, knees on either side of his waist, and stare down into his eyes. “I don’t want a throne.” Ushijima watches you with rapt attention. Sometimes you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he remembers. Slowly, you repeat his words from lifetimes ago. “I only want your heart.” An unreadable expression crosses his face. “Your devotion.” It’s not recognition. “And your soul.”
It’s conviction.
By now you’ve seen many breathtaking things: entire cities built from ice, the end of the ocean, a Venusian sunrise. None compare to Ushijima Wakatoshi with his pupils blown wide, hair tousled, lips flushed. Red with love.
None compare when he promises, “You have that and more.”
A pause.
“Show me.”
With an effortless flip, Ushijima’s muscled body hovers over yours, olive eyes flashing wildly in your dim chambers.
Amid fast breaths and guttural moans, amid steely olive eyes and parted lips, amid the subatomic space between your bodies, you feel it cloak your skin like armour.
Love.
(The Ibis storm the Qaasuuri castle one month before the wedding. Ushijima fights the invaders valiantly, superhuman modifications undoubtedly being of help. But there’s just too many of them. The last thing he tells you is to run. The world burns when you look over your shoulder, only to see a Ibisian sword drive through his heart.
The Qaasuuri are a race more android than human. But they still bleed the same.)
TOKYO, JAPAN, 2018
The oldest you ever witness him live to is thirty-two years old.
It’s the morning of August 13th and you walk into the kitchen to the sight of Ushijima Wakatoshi lifting your daughter up into the sky, spinning her little body around in circles, the pancakes on the stove slowly bronzing to a mouthwatering shade of gold.
“Mommy!” she giggles when she sees you. Leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed, you watch your husband set your daughter back down on the ground with a soft smile on his face.
“Sleep well?” you ask, ruffling her hair. She nods happily and bounces back to the stove. Her latest obsession has been cooking in the kitchen, though you’re not sure when exactly she moved on from “potion-making” in the backyard.
“Morning,” Ushijima murmurs, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your lips.
“Happy birthday, handsome,” you tease, leaning into his chest. As the words leave your mouth, the sunny morning haze cools into desaturated blue. But it’s been thirty-two years, you reason with a hard swallow. Maybe the cycle has broken. Your eyes dart to your daughter’s little figure on the stepping stool, her small hands gripping the spatula flipping a bronzed pancake over to its pale side. How would she…
You steel yourself, though a small fissure can’t help but open in your heart from the force.
She isn’t your first child and she won’t be your last. Time, you’ve learned, likes to play games, likes to set you on the same storyline again and again just to see if another ending will show itself. There will be more tomorrows and more yesterdays. There always is.
But that doesn’t make todays hurt any less.
Ushijima tilts his head to the side, olive eyes peering into yours. “Is everything okay?” He never misses (or missed) anything–– not when the two of you were heisting in Switzerland or revelling in Alexandria like Dionysians, not when you were crammed in the same codebreaking room during World War I or sailed across the Atlantic to your doom in 1912. Not now.
But you’re tired of carrying each bygone lifetime into the next. Willing yourself to forget the fact that you’ve seen him die again and again on August 13th, you put everything into the lie that slips your teeth: “More than okay.”
You choose to cherish the present.
“Order up!” your daughter exclaims, proudly presenting the plate of pancakes to you and Ushijima. “I even made one shaped like a heart for Dad for his birthday!”
With a grin, you come closer to inspect the heart-shaped pancake. “Excellent work, sous chef!” you compliment, tapping her nose lightly. It’s sharp like her father’s. She, however, inherited your eyes. You turn around to face your husband. “What does Head Chef Ushijima think?”
Smiling softly, he takes the plate from her hands and, without a second look, says, “It’s perfect. Thank you, sweetheart.”
Breakfast passes in a blur of laughter and honey.
(You think you have gone through another August 13th unscathed when night falls and all of your friends exit through the cherry wood doors of one of Tokyo’s finest restaurants. On the car ride home, however, your white SUV swerves to avoid a deer in the road and flips once, twice, three times.
You wake up neither a mother nor a wife.)
TOKYO, JAPAN, 2020
A subtle sigh of relief exits your lungs when Ushijima Wakatoshi enters through the front door at 12:01 AM, red Team Japan suitcase in hand. He’s back from the airport. More importantly, he’s alive.
“Did I make it?” he asks with an upturned corner of his mouth. His olive eyes are half-closed from the exhausting transatlantic flight and his muscles are still a bit sore from how vigorously he played the game against Argentina (Oikawa’s team, for god’s sake)... but he’s here.
And he can’t be any happier.
You know that he’s talking about the time, probably hoping to joke that coming home to you is the best birthday present he can imagine. In that regard, he technically hasn’t made it.
And yet, you leap into his arms and press kisses all over his face as you repeat “yes” again
and again
and again.
#ushijima wakatoshi#ushijima x reader#ushijima scenarios#ushijima imagines#ushijima fluff#ushijima angst#haikyuu!!#haikyuu#hq!!#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu!! imagines#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu!! scenarios#hq!! scenarios#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu!! x reader#hq!! x reader#hq!! imagines
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Love And Marriage
Spnquotebingo @spnquotebingo
Quote: You don't save a marriage by sleeping with other people.–Lucifer
Mostly Memory: slant/bold. Quote:small/bold
"What the hell, Anthony!" She yelled scaring both brunettes in the bed she shared with him. The women who looked half her age scrambled off the bed in a rush and ran out of the room getting dressed as she ran out the tower. This time she was throwing objects at the genius screaming and swearing every word under the sun. And yes this wasn't the first time, but its sure as hell will be the last. "How could you do this to me!? Time and time again I forgive and you do it again!!" She tried taking control of her emotions, but they over took her and laid everything out on the table.
Tony slipped on his clothes yelling back and forth with his wife. It was a screaming match that all of New York could hear. "Maybe if you weren't such a controlling bitch I wouldn't need to rush into the arms of a women that would get off my back!" He yelled back and she was stunned into silence. Tony continued talking. "Ever since we been together you've been trying to change who I am and I got sick of it, but you were America's golden girl I couldn't dump you. You just couldn't take the hint ,sweetheart." He finished his intoxicated words got the better of him, but drunk words were sober thoughts and maybe this is exactly how he felt after all these years.
"I want a divorce." She said her voice shaking not wanting to cry in front of the man she loved and she thought loved her back. "What?!" He turned on his heels and stared at her the shouting didn't sober him up, but those four words did. "What did you say?" He asked as if he didn't hear her. "I'm through, Tony. I'm tired of this back and forth. You said it yourself your not willing to change your partying playboy ways so I'm through." She said as she went to get her phone to call her brother. "I want a divorce." Those were the final words uttered to him before she stopped talking to him all together taking off the ring made from the metal of his original reactor the diamond glowing the same blue that lulled her to sleep. Y/n twirled the ring in-between her fingers a nervous habit after the years.
Steve got to the tower from his apartment along with Bucky and Sam. His two friends walked into her bedroom to hear Tony shouting and pleading for her to listen to him. Steve went to his sister as his friends pulled the thrashing man out of the room and to a different part of the building so he could cool off. Tony in the end didn't calm down and was getting violent to the point they had to knock him out and by then Y/n was getting packed with the help of Steve
The suitcase was harshly zipped up as she rushed closing it. Tears flowed freely down her face as she packed all her things well all the things she bought herself. She wasn't running, running was for cowards she was escaping before she drowned herself in whatever kind of love she once had with her husband. Y/n breathed in through her nose as her body convulsed with another fit of silent sobs. Trying to calm down she wanted to get think clear. Did she really want to leave? No, but he didn't give her much of a choice. The light tan line on her finger just further proved she wasn't turning back...not this time. Not even for him. Y/n needed time to think without the threat of the end of the world and out from under her now ex's crushing ego.
She was shacking with anger and in grief it happened again and she was done with it all. Tony fucking Stark her husband, lover, best friend cheated on her again for the third time that she knew of. Y/n saw it she was always there at the wrong time almost like he wanted her to see how pleased he was with another. Steve came out of the bathroom with more hygiene products. "How are you feeling? Are you okay?" He asked for what feels like the hundredth time. Steve knew Y/n wasn't okay he could see it and the sight made him want to rip Stark a new one. With a deep inhale she looked up at him with s slight smile as real as she could make it. "I'm okay I just need to get out of here. Fresh air. New scenery if possible." She said as she looked longingly at a picture on the nightstand not noticing that her brother left with her bags while she stared off. The picture was of her fifth date with Tony after being together as boyfriend and girlfriend for two years, a light festival their first openly public date for cameras to capture them together making it official. America's Sweetheart with a Playboy billionaire...that headline alone should have been the first of many red flags.
The memory played vividly in her mind. Her eyes shined like stars as she dragged him behind her. It was still light outside and the small park was crowded. "Come on, Tones!" She said excitedly as she dragged him along. Many people looked at them and whispered, but they didn't care. They spent the night talking about any and everything it felt so natural. Y/n stared into the sky on their picnic blanket having already painted her lantern with a good amount of wet paint still on her hands. "We've been on what feels like a million dates and this seems like the perfect one to ask you. Will you marry me?" Tony said holding a black velvet box with a f/c diamond ring. "I thought you'll never ask!" She pulled him into a kiss paint covering his cheeks as lanterns where released. He kissed back hands resting on her hips. "Let's go home Mrs.Stark-Rogers." Tony said with a smile. "Well come on then Mr.Rogers-Stark." He was once again dragged away. "No no no my name first Steve will not hold that over me!" Y/n giggled as the memory faded into a much older one.
The twelve year old girl was getting her hair brushed by her mother. "Mama what's love like. I know you love daddy so what's it like?" She asked it's been two years since her father died ,but her mother always said she stilled loves him. "Love is a amazing feeling that doesn't happen often and sometimes it can hurt." The blonde women said to her daughter she couldn't tell her wanting love cost more then giving it. "Why will it hurt?" The young h/c girl asked turning around. "You're to young to know right now, but at some point you will." By the time Y/n turned fifteen she learned that loving someone can hurt after she stood next to her brother and best friend looking at the slab of stone that marked their mother's grave.
The first time it happened she was pissed, but not at the right person at the time. The second red flag.. Screams are what filled the house as Y/n threw clothes at the tramp that was in bed with her drunk husband. She was so anger, but that just hid the pain she was feeling three years for him to cheat. After shutting the half clothes harlot out on the front porch of the Malibu home she stormed back to Tony. He stayed in his boxers on the bed looking dazed he was drunk. "Why?" Is all she could ask as tears fell down her cheeks. The billionaire stood up and walked toward her he wiped her tears. "I'll change. I promise." He kissed her head. She believed him she had faith that he couldn't change for them. After all Y/n did the same she gave up being a hero along side her brother because he told her he already worries about getting home to her as Ironman no need to add the stress of not knowing if she'll get home. So she hung up her red, white, and blue catsuit for him.
After a year Y/n sat in her art studio wear she sold her and other rising artist artwork after Tony said she shouldn't paint in the tower,she painted with her brother laughing messing with colors. She was thankful she put down plastic tarp beforehand a giggle rang out when Natasha walked through the door. Without saying anything she drops a magazine on the table of brushes next to Y/n. On the cover was Tony kissing some red head though a window tears welled in her eyes as she wiped her hands he eyes not leaving the cover till it was picked up off the table. Natasha comforted her as Steve took the magazine and paced. " Am I stupid for trusting him? Thinking he would change?" She asked as the waterworks flowed. "No ,if anyone is stupid its him. Ever since he came out as Ironman he thought he was untouchable. God imma kill him!" The red head said while Steve was flexing his hand not wanting to hit any of the stored art pieces. The third red flag for all to see.
The bus rocked back and forth as she looked over at her brother sleeping next to her. They were heading to the airport and he was going to see her off before possibly killing Tony. Speaking of she looked down at her phone and saw dozens of missed calls and hundreds of unread text. She felt that the world was so much bigger after leaving, after getting away from the place that no longer felt like a home. Turning back to the window a memory came to surface as a teenage girl sat on the bus watching old Brooklyn go by. She thought life was so slow she wanted to grow up faster and experience life. Y/n wanted to find love like her parents had. "What are you thinking about doll?" She turned and in Steve's place was Bucky her adoptive big brother. "Nothing important, James." She said with a sigh as the old modeled cares turned back to modern vehicles and yellow taxi's.
Tony woke up and ran around the tower while calling and texting his wife. "Friday track Y/n' s phone. He said as he went to the lab to get in his suit. "She's as NYC airline." The irish voice answered as he stepped into the suit letting it close around him. Before the hatch could open completely he was flying out of the tower to the airport. "Any idea which flight?" He asked wanting to get there before it's to late. "No boss, but the next flight leaving is heading for U.K and boarding in fifteen minutes." Time was running out he needed ever second he could spare. "We'll make it in ten." That night Ironman flew to save whatever he had left.
Y/n held her ticket in her shaking hands her breath uneven. Steve left after the bus dropped her off they said their goodbyes not making the separation hurt any less. Her thoughts came back to Tony all the good times made her smile, but the dark clouds took them over soon after. It felt so right to be in his arms thinking about the future they had with each other within seconds that became a distant memory. What's sad is she wants to go back wondering if she held on to those moments longer they'll last forever. The ring she slipped back on her finger weighed a ton. Y/n didn't have the strength to take it off not for good at least and this made her feel weak. Pain was heavy in her heart from the constant ache, but the little voice kept saying maybe if we tried harder he would have loved us the way we love him, maybe rushing into a relationship wasn't the best idea, maybe he's happier without us ,maybe not telling him about the positive test was the best option ,maybe...maybe.
A hand resting on her stomach she wanted to laugh, but that would have brought on a fresh wave of tears. She started off the day without Tony in bed and sicker then she's been since her pre-serum years. Y/n went to the doctor completely covered form any prying eyes and the test were clear she couldn't believe it she took about ten test in her studio bathroom before heading back to the tower. Howard warned her and Steve that the serum might sterilize them, but at the time both of them were to small and sickly and she knew getting pregnant might kill her anyways so they both agreed to it. Y/n wished she could hug the man today he made her better and let her have a gift she never thought was possible. A baby was growing inside her. Tony never really talked about kids and neither did she since that wasn't a possibility before, but the moment she held five of the clearer test she wanted to rush into his arms and have him be the first to know. That quickly fell apart that evening and now she's here.
The suit landed out side the airport and Tony immediately ran out of it into the building looking through his tented shades he followed the path Friday set for him rushing through security. "Now boarding flight A145 to United Kingdom. Ahora aborda—" The intercom rang out. He was running out of time. There he saw h/c hair one of a couple dozen in line due to the oddly timed flight. "Y/N!!" Many heads turned at the shout while so gasped and whispers started. She looked at him and froze. His eyes looked bloodshot and he wore baggy sweats and a AC/DC shirt. Turning back around she tried to get on the plane quicker, but a hand grabbed her arm. "Please listen to me. I'm so so sorry! I'm a fucking moron okay? I know I just keep screwing up between us and I know you're tired of me saying I'll change, but if it means I keep you in my life I'll do damn near anything." Tony's voice shook as his eyes welled with tears people crowed to see the Starks some seemed to clued in on the subject while others were lost. "You can't fix this Tony. There's nothing to fix between us you said your piece and actions speak louder then words there is no saving this." Y/n whimpered holding her hand in her own.
"I can save us, N/n! Please just give me a chance too. You and me against the world right?" She shook her head no as she looked into his brown eyes with her glassy e/c ones. "Wrong. You just don't get it do you? You don't save a marriage by sleeping with other people. And I gave you more then enough chances to change because God I changed so much for you!! I gave up saving people, gave up painting in the tower, stopped helping Pepper with business, stopped going to briefings, and so much more. All for you and you couldn't do one thing for me." With quivering hands she gently brushed the tears from his cheeks letting her hands go from his shoulders to his hands. "I loved you, Anthony. I always will have a special place in my heart for you, but clearly the same doesn't go for you." Y/n now held one of his hands bringing his knuckles to her lips giving them a chaste kiss.
She let go of his hand as she stepped back from him many of the passengers having already boarded the plane. "Don't say goodbye." He said voice small and weak. "...don't think of this as a goodbye. We just met at the wrong time in the wrong place. Maybe I'll come back to you and just maybe we can start again from the beginning, but until then this is a see you later." She turned and went on board as he stood their feet glued the the floor. Looking down at the hand she held the ring sat in his palm she left him with a piece of his heart while she took the rest with her. What is a marriage without love
————————————————————————————————————————————
A/n this is the second to last one before the full masterlist is posted. Fyi I wrote a happy ending and if it's really wanted I'll make a short one-shot of it but angst ending for now.
Next quote is a free space and I'm going ham!!!!
#spnquotebingo#tony stark#tony stark x reader#cheating#quote bingo#pregnant!reader#divorce#angst#no happy ending#steve rogers#Rogers!reader#bucky barnes#natasha romanoff#heart break
253 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
tristamtrondheim-blog
Untitled
tomb-du-ci3l
Sans titre
crystal-temp
hello there
jarache-onge
Bitácora cotidiana
royalspalaces
C R O W N