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thegreatestofheck · 4 years

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The Other Her [S. Snape]

warnings - angst, unrequited love (oh the horror) pairings - severus snape x reader synopsis - Severus Snape had two friends while he was at school. One, every body knew as Lily Evans. The other was you, an unknown student who wanted nothing more than to be noticed by your friend. You couldn’t help but compare yourself to the Gryffindor heartthrob every time he mentioned her name. a/n - TikTok saw this idea first. Yes, I have a TikTok and yes I made a Severus Snape pov based on this song. But now I’m going to write it because I can do what I want. Thank you all for your patience with me!

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You knew that being friends with Severus Snape meant being friends with Lily Evans. It was a prerequisite. Still, you found yourself shocked that even when she wasn’t around, her name was always brought up.

Sitting with Severus in the library as you attempted to study, you rolled your eyes as he mentioned her for the fifth time since she went to class. Your hand tightened around your pencil as you fought back the urge to lay him out flat if he said the word “Lily” one more time.

“The other day,” he started, staring down at the book he wasn’t really reading. “Lily and I-”

“Sev!” Your voice was strained as you attempted to keep yourself quiet. “I’m sorry, but I really have to revise for this exam. If I don’t pass....”

“You’re right, y/n.” He straightened himself and looked at the book with more determination. “I’m sorry.”

You sighed and tried to focus, but all you could think about was the way he smiled when he talked about her, or the way his eyes glimmered when they were together, or the way he barely laughed when they were apart.

It was impossible not to compare yourself to her. The way her long, red hair shone underneath the sunlight, her green eyes as kind as they were fierce. She stood up for others and she skipped through the halls. She smelled like cherry blossoms and summertime and cinnamon. Lily Evans was an incredibly talented witch, top of almost all of her classes, but she always had time to take care of her friends and dance in the rain.

She was everything a boy could possibly want.

You, in your own mind, were not.

Every time you passed her in the halls, she would wave and smile, knowing you as Severus’ other friend. She was proud of him for branching out and meeting knew people, but it was rare that she ever actually saw you. Her attention was almost always on Severus and his was always on hers.

I still remember the third of December Me in your sweater you said it looked better on me than it did you only if you knew, how much I liked you

A chill ran down your spine as you and Sev walked back from Hogsmeade, trudging through the snow. You had spilled Butterbeer on your sweater and then it was completely ruined when James Potter and Sirius Black decided that then was the best time to pick on your friend.

Defending Severus always meant putting yourself in the hot seat. You didn’t mind too much, but once your sweater was completely ruined by their onslaught of mud filled snowballs, not even your thick skin could warm you up enough.

“You want my sweater?” Sev asked, his arm brushing against yours as you walked.

“I’m alright, thank you,” you said to him and tried to smile. He raised an eyebrow in your direction and you sighed. “Fine.”

He pulled the green sweater off over his head and your heart skipped a beat. He loved that sweater. In the winter months, it was rare to see him without it.

“I’m sorry they ruined yours,” he said as he handed it over to you. You took it with grateful hands and a hidden smile before pulling it over your head.

Your heart thrummed in your chest as you walked beside him, enveloped in one of the few things he valued. And it smelled like him; the musk of the dungeons, the smell of spices and herbs and plants that he could name but you couldn’t, the slight twinge of burnt yarn from all his time spent bent over his cauldron flames.

Every part of you wanted to reach out and take his hand in yours, to show him that you were going to be there for him through everything, that you didn’t care where he came from or the things that had hurt him, that he was the most important person to you and you wanted nothing else than to spend the rest of your life with him.

But I watched your eyes as she walks by what a sight for sore eyes brighter than the blue sky she’s got you mesmerized

You thought Lily had gone home for the winter. She had a place to go in the winter months, a family to spend the Christmas holidays with. You and Sev did not. You spent your weeks at the school, revising for class, going to Hogsmeade, practicing potions. It was the time you valued most because Lily wasn’t there and Sev didn’t seem overcome by her absence.

But apparently not this winter.

“There’s Lily!” Sev said as you sat in the Great Hall. You whipped your head around to see the red-head, laughing with one of her friends. Your smile dropped at the sight of her.

“I...I didn’t know she was staying,” you said.

“Me neither,” Sev replied and you could hear his smile in his voice.

“She looks good.” You finally looked back at him and elbowed him gently. He tips of his cheeks reddened slightly and your stomach churned. He knew you knew that he liked her and you knew that if you didn’t tease him about it, he would know that you liked him, so you played along.

“She always looks good,” he muttered to himself, trying to look like he wasn’t paying attention.

“Yeah.” You looked away from him and back at Lily once again.

while I die

You were just being stupid. That’s what you told yourself. There was no reason to ruin a perfectly good friendship with Severus, your only friendship, actually, just because you got butterflies every time he looked your way or you felt your pulse quicken every time his hand brushed yours when you walked side by side. That was just the hormones. You’d be over it in a few months and everything would go back to the way it was.

So, why did it hurt so much? Why did you stay awake at night, staring blankly at the drapes above your head while sleep evaded you? Why did tears run from your eyes no matter how hard you fought them back?

You fell asleep to the dull ache of a knife being driven deeper and deeper into your chest.

You were just being stupid.

Watch as she stands with her holding your hand Put your arm 'round her shoulder, now I'm getting colder

You tightened your jaw to the point where it was almost painful. Sitting across the courtyard, a book in your hand, you watched as Severus hoisted Lily into the air. Both of them laughed loudly, as if sharing a secret together that you would never know.

It killed you inside because you knew she didn’t like him in any way other than a friend and he loved her. And he didn’t like you in any way other than a friend and you loved him.

A vicious cycle. No one would come out on top.

Still, the stone bench was colder when you were alone.

But how could I hate her? She's such an angel

There was something about Lily that made everyone love her. And that something was rather simple; she was kind. There was not a single soul that she did not pour her love and affection into.

The times she talked to you even she listened intently. She asked questions about your studies and your home life and if things were going better than they were the last time you talked. It never felt like small talk with your best friend’s best friend. It was almost as if she actually cared.

And she actually cared for everyone she came across. Every first year, every Slytherin, every house elf, every teacher, every creature.

The only time you didn’t see her smiling was when she was telling someone off for picking on Sev or performing a rather powerful hex.

Aside from being the kindest person you had ever laid eyes on, she was equally as powerful of a witch. There was no one you knew who knew their way around a wand as well as Lily. Even some of the professors seemed to be outmatched by her. It was frustrating and awe inspiring at the same time so see her cast spells so naturally, so casually, when you struggled to even produce some of the simpler spells.

Even then, Lily was willing to help you out. She took time out of her busy day to help tutor you. The grades you had now were because of her and her dedication to you.

How could you possible hate her when she was such a kind and wonderful person?

But then again, kinda wish she were dead

You couldn’t help but think that your life would be so much easier without her in it. If she had just been a normal muggle, every thing would have been different. She wouldn’t have run into Sev, she wouldn’t have started talking to him, she wouldn’t have come to Hogwarts. Everything would be fine and he would be yours.

But there she was, laughing and happy and just all around a wonderful person. And Sev was still in love with her.

You hated her and you hated yourself for it.

why would you ever kiss me? I’m not even half as pretty

It was weird when the three of you went out to Hogsmeade together. This time in particular. Sev was wearing his favorite green sweater again and Lily was wearing her favorite pair of boots that made her legs look longer. Her beautiful red hair was up in a ponytail, pieces framing her face. The snow on the ground somehow made her green eyes greener.

And there you were, walking a few paces behind the, silent. Sev elbowed her in the side as she laughed. You weren’t surprised when you finally got him to admit he liked her. Sure, you had already known about it for so long, but the confirmation still hurt.

Why wouldn’t he like her? With her long hair and her green eyes and her brilliant smile, you would be surprised if half the school wasn’t in love with her.

You looked nothing like her. Your hair was unruly and always messy and you never knew what to do with it. Your eyes didn’t shine and glimmer and glow in the light like hers did. Your smile wasn’t easy and perfect and wonderful. Everything that she had, you didn’t have.

It made you feel shallow to care so deeply about looks, but you couldn’t help yourself.

‘It’s not her fault she’s beautiful,’ you told yourself as you watched the two of them walk ahead. ‘I can’t hate her just because she’s prettier than me. It’s not her fault and it’s not mine.’

You gave her your sweater It's just polyester But you like her better

Walking out of Honeydukes with a bag full of candy, you felt your heart drop out of your chest and into your stomach.

Sev was pulling off his sweater and handing it off to Lily, who stood there with a smile as she shivered. Tears gathered in your eyes, biting your skin as the cold air blew against them. That was the one thing you had to hold onto, that he had given you his most beloved sweater that one day in the cold. But now she was wearing it too and, Merlin’s Beard, the oversized green sweater looked better on her than it ever would you.

You walked up to them as you shook away your tears. You could cry about it later. For now, you had to keep your wits about you.

“Thank you, Sev,” she said, pulling on the long sleeves to cover her trembling hands.

“Of course,” he replied with his usual sheepish smile.

“I’ll give it back once we get to the castle.”

“Keep it,” he said. Your heart plummeted even further. “Looks better on you than anyone else.”

You couldn’t stand around any longer. You had to get out before your emotions took you over completely. Dropping the bag of sweets into the snow, you turned around and pushed your way through the crowd of students. As soon as your back was to them, the tears in your eyes overcame your willpower and you started to cry.

Arms crossed and head down, you ignored Lily and Sev calling your name, hoping beyond hope to just disappear into the crowd before either of them could catch up to you.

You walked back to the castle by yourself, hoping to find some place to be alone and just let it all out. If you cried about it now, maybe all your feelings would leave with your tears and you wouldn’t like him anymore and you could just be his friend without wanting to hold his hand all the time.

“It’s just a stupid sweater,” you whispered to yourself as you hid in a bathroom stall. “Just a stupid sweater.”

No matter how many times you repeated those words to yourself, you still couldn’t stand to look either of them in the face. You knew Sev’s schedule well enough to know how to avoid him between classes. You didn’t know where Lily would be at any given time of the day, but whispers came before her and followed after her, so it was pretty easy to tell when she was coming your way. It was easy enough to skip meals and sneak into the kitchens to grab something every now and again.

It was almost a week later that you finally accidentally ran into Sev on your way to class.

“Sorry!” You said before even realizing who it was.

“y/n!”

You snapped your head up, eyes wide with fear at the sight of him. You spun around quickly to run in the other direction, but he reached a hand out to grab hold of your wrist. When he turned you around to face him, your heart began to pound wildly in your chest, roaring like an ocean in your ears.

“What’s been up with you?” He asked. “You’ve been avoiding me for days.”

“I have to go to class,” you said hurriedly, trying to step around him. He moved in front of you again.

“Talk to me, y/n.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Then why are you avoiding me? Lily and I are worried-”

“I don’t want to talk about her.” Your voice deepened, dangerously low. Sev looked taken aback.

“Did she do something to you? I’ll talk to her. I’m sure she didn’t mean to-”

“You gave her your sweater,” you said finally. You screwed your eyes shut tight so you didn’t have to look at the way he reacted. It felt stupid and saying it out loud sounded stupid, but it still hurt all the same.

“It’s just a sweater,” he said. You opened your eyes and a wave of calm suddenly passed over you. You shook your head before looking down at your hands.

“You know it’s not just a sweater, Sev. That’s your favorite sweater and you gave it to her like it was nothing.”

“You’ve been ignoring me because I gave her my sweater?” It was clear that he wasn’t understanding.

“I’ve been ignoring you because I’ve been in love with you for months and you’re too thick to notice because you’ve only got eyes for her and I just want to be rid of these feelings so we can go back to being friends, alright?”

Your voice rose without you meaning to. You were sick of dancing around it. You just needed him to know so maybe you could let it go.

By the look in his eyes, you could tell that he hadn’t even thought of the possibility. His cheeks tinted red, his mouth parted in confusion and shock. You let out a bitter laugh as you watched the ground carefully.

“Make sense to you now?”

“y/n, I-”

“I really need to get to class,” you told him, stepping around him again. This time, he didn’t try to stop you.

“Can we talk about this later?”

“I’d rather not.”

“I don’t want to lose my best friend.”

You watched him carefully, the way his gaze was fixed on the floor, how his hands tensed at his side, how his lips twitched ever so slightly. You gave him your best, soft smile, knowing that it compared nothing to Lily’s.

“You won’t,” you said finally. With that, you turned and walked to your class, feeling worse than you had the night before. Because now you couldn’t avoid them anymore, which meant you couldn’t avoid your feelings anymore. Now you had to be his friend despite him knowing how you felt and every time the three of you were around each other, the fact of your feelings would hang around in the air like weight against all of your shoulders. Everything was going to change.

I wish I were Heather

Maybe you didn’t want Lily dead. That would make Sev inconsolable. He would never recover. Maybe there was something else you wanted. Some other way, in some made up world, that you could be the one that he loved. If you were Lily, if you had been Lily from day one, Sev would love you then.

But you didn’t want to be Lily either. She got too much attention. You didn’t need everyone else’s attention, just his. You didn’t want to be Lily, but you wanted to be where she was in his heart. Whatever piece of his soul was tied so tightly to hers, you wanted that place. And there was no way you were ever going to get it.

#severus snape #severus snape imagine #snape imagine #young snape #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter fic #harry potter x reader #snape x reader #snape angst #heather #song fic #i just really love snape #you can pry my love for him out of my cold dead hands #idk if it's snape appreciation week yet #but this week im appreciating snape #marauders era

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impaladolan · 4 years

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Control Freak - Grayson Dolan

summary: after Choff production lines CEO (finally) retires, a new boss makes his way into Y/N’s world..

warnings: sexual references/undertones

a/n: another Grayson series, i can’t help myself :)) enjoy!! also, ily <3

Ugh, he was in one of his moods again.

The office cubicles were hastily bustling with nervousness and terror. At any given moment, the infuriated man, so-called boss, will be bursting through the double doors with a dark red tint across his cheeks and maybe even smoke out of his ears, if you're lucky.

Mr. Kidman has never been good with the whole "patience is a virtue" thing, he's a ticking time bomb at all hours of the day. Nothing ever satisfies him, nor remotely excites him, he just finds something to yell and scream about at some poor unfortunate soul and then continues his merry day. But today, he was furious. He had no empathy for anyone, even his favorite two little secretaries that wear push-up bras like a side-job. Apparently someone had brought him the wrong breakfast order and everything just went downhill from there.

Unlike all the others, you seemed calm and composed amongst all this mayhem, but only because you, and maybe two others, knew that 'Old Angry Kidman' was finally retiring. Yep, freedom at last. Well, unless the new guy, or girl, has terrible anger issues.

So you just sat at your clean and pristine desk, typing another draft and adding it to the plentiful piles saved on your work computer, while soundlessly chewing on a mint piece of gum that substituted for the absence of a tooth brushing the morning of. But your quick finger movements were hushed once Mr. Kidman, as predicted, flew straight through the doors with his signature fiery red face and sweat droplets dotting his thinning hairline. "Every body fucking up! I've fucking had it with all of you." He demands, majority of the room raising from their seats with caution. With his teeth tightly gritted and his lips in a fine line, he swirls his index finger in the air, motioning to all of his terrified workers.

"If it were my fuckin' decision, I'd have each and everyone of you pieces of shits fired and on the streets in point ZERO-TWO seconds. You all are fucking lucky that this is my last day here, son's of bitches." A man of few nice words, that he is. The nicest thing you've ever heard him say was thank you, and that was two years ago. His vulgar and aggressive attitude truly brings the worth of working this job down. If it weren't for the good pay and lack of any other remotely feasible company jobs, you would've quit a long time ago.

But alas, you still endure the inevitable fiery reign of his obstructive wrath on the daily.

Dolan is his name.

The new boss, that is. That's the only information you and the rest of the staff knew, besides that he's a male. He hasn't shown up for work yet, or even formally introduced himself. Hell, you don't even know what he looks like. But you were certainly nervous for his arrival.

What if he's just like Kidman, or worse?

It most certainly made you nervous to think that this new guy could ever be worse than Kidman. You were hoping and praying that the he'd at least value his workers and employees.

Everyone, on your office floor, was anticipating the days and hours of his big arrival. No one was certain of when he was going to show up, or if. But nonetheless you were one of the most nervous ones. You held the highest title among your coworkers, except CEO of course, but you were pretty up there when it came to business standards. Everyone seemed to like you as well, your kind nature and natural non-brutal attitude sure did make up for other people's. Of course, you didn't really have an office of your own, because you enjoyed the time spent with the people around you. You truly loved the relationship and humbleness you gained from it. At least you weren't a snotty bitch, right?

There were plenty of little rumors around the workspace that you'd become the new (and improved) owner of this whole entire manufacturing company. Specifically a well known fashion line, Choff. The floor that you, and many of the other leading workers, were on was basically the information database. But from time to time, you'd find yourself strolling through the other, more clothing/model filled areas. Just to see how things were flowing.

Which is actually what you're doing in this moment; running your fingers along the racks filled with hangers that held all the fitted clothing items. It seemed like fun to be down here, measuring and sewing the different outfits to the men and women, but it also seemed stressful. Everyone's always in a rush, with their exploding New York accents and their flailing around all over the place. It's pretty amusing to watch from afar, but you'd be scared to get in anyone's way. They'd probably just run you over and continue their day unaffected.

With that thought in mind, you abruptly come to a stop when you run into the muscular backside of someone, startling you from your stare on the tiled flooring. You uttered a few apologies, taking a step back and straightening your pencil skirt from its newfound wrinkles.

"Lost, darling?" Your eyes trail the floor before you until they're stuck on a pair of shiny dress shoes, attached to a pair of long legs and a broad chest. Your eyes finally landed on the remarkably handsome face, of someone you didn't quite recognize. It wasn't uncommon to stumble across unknown employees, but could it be him?

"Frankly, no." You shortly answer, studying his jaw-dropping features. He was indubitably perfect, without a doubt. With a nicely trimmed beard decorating his beautifully shaped jawline, and big hazel eyes that stared right back at your own, he seemed unearthly. Like he was God's favorite angel sent down from heaven, just to show you a glimpse of what it'd really be like inside the pearly gates. "Are, um, you?" You weren't exactly nervous, just mystified. His recent smile grew into what seemed to be a smirk, while his right side's dimple grew more prominent.

"I'd like to say that I'm not, but I sadly am." He shrugs with a chuckle, sending a wave of unbeknownst pleasure through your ears and fluttering down your spine, until the ends of your toes were satisfied with his deep and raspy voice. "Could you maybe show me around this gigantic place? I've been in need of assistance for the last hour or so." He questions you, dropping his shoulders back and letting his eyes roam your stature before drifting to the interior of the long hallway the two of you are currently standing around in. "I very well could, but I have a dreadful meeting to attend to within the next five to ten minutes." Actually, the meeting was in fifteen minutes. You just simply wanted to see the man's reaction, which wasn't what you though it'd be;

"Perfect, I'll be in attendance for that as well. If you'd so kindly lead the way, I would most appreciate it." He smoothly negotiated, stuffing his right hand, which was tightly wrapped with an expensive looking watch, into his pocket with another grin. He seemed very eloquent with his words and the way he addressed things, it has to be him?

"Do you mind me asking of your name?" You began as you started your trek back to where you came from, your heels quietly clicking from beneath you as you lead the way, him following close behind. "Dolan, Grayson Dolan." He quickly answered. Indeed you were right in thinking he was the new (and maybe improved) CEO of all Choff productions. "New head guy?"

He only nods, to yet another one of your endless questions. "And what's your name, darling?" He asks as the two of you stop at an elevator, his quick hand beating yours to clicking the slightly worn down button. "Y/N Y/L/N, direct head management under you." You relay before boarding onto the empty elevator, the doors closing moments after the two of you were stood side by side. You fidget with the ends of your skirt, staying as calm as possible under his stare that you couldn't help but shrivel under.

"Under me, huh?" You almost gulped at the sound of his double meaninged phrase. Smart guy, hm? Your heart started beating a bit faster the more you thought of his little statement. Your mind became a whirlwind of visuals and fantasies before you could even stop it. Just those two little words had made you all sorts of a mess, and he hasn't even done much of anything. "Don't get too worked up darling, we have a meeting to attend." He chuckles as he steps off the elevator that had opened only seconds ago. You just scoff, your cheeks reddening as you stride right past him, maneuvering through the expanse of people that had just left the staff room, in order for the upcoming meeting to advance.

The moment you were sat in the room and time had passed to where everyone had finally shown up, you felt that lingering feeling of eyes on you. A pair of hazel eyes to be exact, who was sat far from you at the end of the long table. For meeting him not too long ago, he sure did seem comfortable around everyone. It was entirely too soon for you to be liking him already, better yet imagining different scenarios with him as someone boringly rambled. You decided that you'd forget him for the time being and focus on your job, as much as possible.

Though it would be granted as difficult as time moved on..

"That's the conclusion of this meeting. I thank everyone for being here, and I especially appreciate your appearance, Mr. Dolan. I'm happy to say that things around here will continue a lot smoother than it did in the past. And I know most others would agree." Burt Wallace, one of the coordinators, concluded after standing from his seat to dismiss everyone with a nod. While everyone dillydallied in conversations with one another, you in the other hand, hustled straight out of that room and towards the same elevator you had used earlier. The moment you clicked the button, the doors opened wide and you hopped in, tucking yourself in the corner while you gained your breath. You smile to yourself at the successful 'escape' from any questions or perhaps a witty comment from a certain CEO on the loose.

You sigh happily to yourself, watching the doors close again until a hand is stuck between them, pushing them straight back to reveal the man you were somewhat avoiding. "Care if I join you again?" He asked, but he still entered otherwise, clicking one of the many buttons to make the door close. "Did I have a choice?" You almost scoff, feeling his shoulder brush against your own as he stood in the same spot he had previously stood in. "Nah, not really, but I like to seem like a little bit of a gentleman." He answers, the roll of your eyes substituting for the internal scoff that you hadn't let out. The two of you rode in silence for what seemed to be eternity, only the faint sounds of your breaths being heard. As soon as the elevator door clanged and opened, you made a beeline out of there and hustled toward your organized workspace like there was a snake chasing you.

"What's the rush?" Ana Rita, one of the only tolerable women in this entire building, asked as you ducked under your desk. Even though you hadn't looked back to check, you had a feeling he'd follow you, or worse, ask you to meet him in his office. You weren't exactly sure why you were hiding from him, he seemed pretty nice. But he truly intimidated you. Not in a competitive way, more so a physical way. "And why the fuck are you down there?" The redhead crinkled her brows as she looked down her long nose at you. "Just, shhhh!" You bellow quietly, covering your pursed lips with your index finger.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Hot man, six o'clock! Get your ass out of there!" She violently whispered at you, frantically tidying herself for the "hot man," presumably Mr. Dolan as you had predicted, approached your desks. You tightly hug your knees from under your desk, praying to god that he wouldn't somehow see you. "After noon, sir, may I help you?" You cringe at the seductive tone lined in her voice, something that Mr. Dolan unfortunately probably gets a lot of. "I'm looking for Ms. Y/L/N, I have some issues to discuss with her." Yet again, his girthy voice made you sigh with comfort. It's extremely calming to listen to.

"She's actually right here—" Ana, the little asshole she is in this moment, points straight at you as you plead with your eyes and shake your head vigorously. You suddenly see his handsome head peer over at you, his brows scrunched with confusion. "Uhm, cords were messed up, gotta fix them." You awkwardly chuckle, patting the outlet box stuffed with all your monitor's cords. You bring yourself out from below your desk as the two stared at you, dusting your front side and settling down in your office chair with a nervous smile.

"I'd like to have a word with you, in my office."

(masterlist)

#dolan twins #dolan twins smut #dt #dtfan10m #ily #ethan dolan #ethan grant dolan #grayson dolan #grayson smut #grayson dolan smut #grayson fluff #grayson dolan fanfic #Grayson #grayson x reader #graysonbailey #dick grayson #grayson blurb

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meenah-chan · 3 years

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Quintessence

A Lucifer x MC's Over-protective! Sister fanfic

3.4k words

Genre: Angst

Trigger warning: use of violence; read at your own discretion.

Quintessence

(noun.)

purest essence of a thing.

the intrinsic and central constituent of its character

most perfect embodiment of something

“She is my greatest treasure. If it is for her safety and happiness, I'd gladly sell my soul without any regrets.”

“.. I'm certain you're the most capable for the task and no one else.”

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

A refined silhouette of a ginger-haired female emerged from a black Bentley. With a cold breeze welcoming her, the silky-smooth hands instantly felt cold. Her pale cheeks redden as she puffed out a white mist. Trailing down the cold pavement as she left the parking lot, with only the moonlight as her guide. But the freezing darkness of the night is the least of her concern.

Despite working for two straight days, exhaustion doesn't bother her, for she is brimming with pure delight and excitement.

A week worth of work is done. Now I can spend another 5 days with her... Smile was plastered on her face and warmth enveloped her chest.

It's been 2 weeks since MC, her sister, returned for the wedding of their parents and decided to stay at her place. She should have gone back to her school dorm abroad a week ago, but chose not to. It is slightly since it is semestral break in her school but mainly due to a quarrel between her and 'the Mammon' or whoever he is. Apparently, he used her debit card without permission and withdraw big time only to lose all the money to his compulsive gambling.

"What a total jerk..." Is the only thing that left her mouth when MC told her about the issue. But oh well... Thanks to that fiend, I'm able to spend longer time with my ball of sunshine...

Grinning to herself, she reached the entrance of the apartment building only to be welcomed by the shivering back of a familiar white-haired, tan-skinned guy in brown leather jacket.

She only saw him once in a picture but there's no mistaking it.

"Excuse me mister, please don't block the way." It's the jerk, Mammon.

What a pain. I shouldn't have let him crossed my mind, then he might not have been here...

"Huh?... Oh, hey you. Do 'ya know the PIN number for this gate?" He arrogantly asked.

She just raised an eyebrow. "Why would I tell you?"

"Hey, watch your mouth human. I'm asking here nice—"

"You're Mammon, right?"

"Huh? How'd ya kn—"

"MC have no business with you. Leave before I call the guards."

"I'm MC's sister. Now if you excuse me." She passed by him and tapped her ID to the sensor to enter the building, only to be stopped by a firm grip.

"Stop interruptin' me! And who're ya? Ho—"

"Sister? My human have no sister..." He squinted his eyes, observing her. "You don't look at least alike! And why wouldn't she pick up her phone for 2 weeks already...? Don't tell me... You kidnapped her, don't you?!"

Her blood started to boil from his words. "Your... human? And you said you have no contact with her. How did you know she's here?"

"Of course through GPS, duh." Stating as if it's the most obvious thing to do, her thread of patience finally snapped.

"What...GP...S? You tracked my sister with GPS?! Are you out of your mind?! You demon..." She hissed, shaking his grip off her.

He reached to her shoulders and whispered to her ears, "I can kill you this instant, you kidnapper. So if you value your life, then scamper away. I'm taking my human." He stride pass her into the apartment but in just a few steps, he heard a beeping sound followed by the words, "MC, to the car! Use the emergency stairs, NOW!"

"Demon?" Yet, in response to her reaction, his eyes glinted as if having an idea. "Then what if I really am a demon?" Suddenly, a pair of twisted horns stuck out his head. Wings flapped on the small of his back. His clothes stupendously changed as he emits a bloodcurdling aura, instantly frozing her in horror.

And before he knew it, he was lying on the cold asphalt outside the establishment, holding to his horn and tail from the throbbing pain due to the back throw he barely comprehended.

Snapping a glare back up, he saw an ferocious aquamarine orbs of the lady.

A reaction he doesn't expect. And as if to shake his senses, he watched her tearing on the length of her deep blue pencil skirt up to her hips.

"Oi! Why are you stripping?! Are 'ya a pervert?!" What's she... No, that's not how humans strip, is it? Or does it? Why would she do that? Mammon is perplexed, flustered of the sight before him.

"Why would a demon dawdle around my MC...? What are you planning to do with her? You dare touch a single strand of her hair and I'll drag you to the pits of hell myself, you pervert stalker of a demon!" She snarled at the man on the floor, making Mammon's turn to feel infuriated.

"You..! You're getting into my nerves! That's it! I'mma shred you to pieces!" And he dash towards her.

Wrong move. Just a few inch of grabbing her, he met a heavy blow from her right foot to his gut, squeezing the air out of him. Before he could even recover, she followed with a left high kick under his chin. And then he realized...

Ahhh... So that slit is for a high kick...

Mammon flew, without even using his wings and plummet on his back, unconscious.

That'll... buy us some time. Ahh, right, MC. I should contact her. She should be on her way to the car already—

"Haahhh..." A sigh stopped her halfway her phone. A man clad in black long coat, with black hair parted to the right and ruby eyes emerges from the shadows. "Really... What a troublesome brother..." He mutters to himself, but enough for her to hear.

Brother... Another demon... She clicked her tongue. She knew her chance to escape is gone... but not her sister.

She clicked her speed dial and slid the device onto her right ear. But why? What did her sister to have a demon or two come claiming at her as theirs? Just why?

"MC, why... Ahh, no." It doesn't matter. Tothing matters right now but her beloved's safety. "There's a spare car keys under the car trunk cover. And please throw away your devices. Leave now. And please do not return to your school anymore. It's a dangerous place for you." Unlike before, calmness spread to the tips of her fingers. The only thing she needs to do is hold the bay until her sister leave the vicinity and find a safe place.

But this guy... He's different from the first one. It'll be tricky to hold him off. She scanned him on her peripheral vision.

"Hmm? Did you say MC? Do you perhaps, know her?"

"MC? Hmm... Well, do you?" She smiled at him as if nothing's wrong.

"MC is one of RAD students and an officer of the student council. She's also an important friend. Well, anyways. What happened to this guy here?" The black-haired man kicked the stray arm of Mammon, still in his demon form, to his chest.

"Him? Who knows? He's already here when I arrived." Her eyes smizes as her smile widens.

"He is? Maybe my eyes did fool me when I saw you throw and kick him."

"Yeah? All I said is he's here when I arrived. You did saw it, so why bother asking?" She chuckled at the man.

An amused smirk lines on the man's face. A glint of ominous energy dispersed in the air but didn't faze her a bit.

This causes a wider grin from the male. "Ohhh... You're quite interesting." It's first someone actually bite back at him other than his brothers—namely Satan and Belphegor, and a human woman who met him for the first time nonetheless. She even managed to withstand his intimidation with a smile.

"You knew who I am, do you?"

"Yeah, you're that thing's brother, aren't you? By the way Mr. Demon, I have a question for you." And she's completely aware what I am... Intriguing...

"What is it, Miss Human?" He narrowed his eyes, inspecting every movement her muscles make. Yet, in split second he is eyeing him, her smile suddenly crumbles into horror, which also appalled him.

What did she just realized I'm a demon..? No, she not looking at me anymore... He followed her line of sight and fall to one shadow a few meters behind him.

"Alexa, Lucifer... and Mammon?" A familiar voice rang, calling his attention. "What's happening?"

"MC... Hmm, So you're Alexa.." he returned his gaze, only to find the woman disappear from her spot. She stealthly dashed through his blind spot and hiding MC behind her.

"You hardheaded child... Why are you still in here?" She asked irritably, not removing her eyes from the threat in front of them.

"I'm worried! There seems to be a danger and as if I'm gonna leave you behind. You even said my school is dangerous." MC pouts. "So what's happening? And why is Mammon knocked out and in his demon—" she flinch from her own words.

"D–Demon cosplay!" She laughed nervously, slowly glancing to her sister, only to be petrified by her death stare.

"MC... You knew something about them, don't you?" Terrified, she shifted her gaze to the man in black. He raised an eyebrow, smirking in amusement.

"Lucifer! This is no time to make fun of me! Tell me what happened?"

"It's because of this idiot here," he kicked the demon on the asphalt again, "Taking off here, making trouble and misunderstanding. He even called Miss Alexa here your kidnapper and picking a fight."

MC sighed and glance back at her sister. The stern expression is not there anymore but she is clearly disappointed.

"I didn't inquire you of your sudden disappearance nor the transfer overseas since I know you don't want to talk about it. But I can't really ignore it anymore based on the current circumstances, so spill everything. I have the right to know, right Mr. Lucifer? Or should I call you Mr. Vice president?"

"Lucifer will do. Well, I suppose... Go on MC." Through his confirmation, everything is uncovered to Alexandria. From how she got in RAD, why she is brought there, the program she is undergoing and how her life goes in Devildom.

"What a troublesome program... Out of all the million students..." She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

As MC finished her story, gloom filled her chest.

If only I knew that'll be my last day in Devildom, I should have— "Alright. She'll continue the exchange student program."

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, confused of the older female's decision. "Hmm? Are you sure?"

"A–Alexa?!" MC gripped and shooked her sisters shoulders vigorously. "What? You'd rather not? Then that's more ideal."

"No! I love Devildom! I'd love to continue studying in RAD!"

"Hmm, figures." She ruffles the younger's hair. "But... I also have my conditions." She shifted her gaze to the demon in black.

"Let's hear it."

"First, I'll be going with her." She held the head of the younger sibling, "I can't ensure her safety if I just leave her in a place swarming of predators."

"That's acceptable. Diavolo's approval won't be hard on that matter. And... The next one is?"

"The final condition, I'll tell President Diavolo myself." Lucifer cocked an eyebrow.

"Come again? Why—"

"My sister's safety is on the line. I won't compromise for something less. Or if you want to end the exchange student program right here, I'm also fine with it." Ruby and Aquamarine orbs bores through each other—the prior one pulling out first.

"Alright, since I'm in no position to make a decision about it."

"Come on. Just let me change my clothes. I'll also prepare my things for a moment."

"Sis? You mean, right now? And change clothes... Ahh!! Your favorite skirt! What happened?!"

"Long story. Anyways, I want to settle this as soon as possible. And these two here came to get you anyways."

"I only came here to clean the mess this idiot made."

"Yeah, yeah. If you say so... Ahh, and call me Alexandria. Only my sister could call me Alexa."

----

They reached the Devildom few hours before the morning manifest. At the request of Alexandria, they went straight to Diavolo's residence, the Demon Lord's Castle.

"Welcome to Devildom, Alexandria. I am Diavolo. It's a pleasure to hear that a human like you wished to stay here."

"No, your Highness. It is of the greatest honor to meet a Crown Prince such as yourself, Master Diavolo." A deep curtsy from her gave Lucifer a pleased and impressed smile.

"Oh wow, as a human, I never thought you'd be well informed." Diavolo raised his eyebrows.

"Not at all, your Highness. I just figured it out along the way through your household." Her second statement astound the prince more.

"Amazing... What a curious person you are... Anyways, I heard your case from Lucifer. Tell me your second condition and I'll do my best to satisfy it."

"Then," she looked straight to his eyes, "I want you to make a pact with me," Everyone in the room but her and Diavolo froze from her statement.

"Wha—" MC wobbled on her feet.

"Wait a minute, you impud—" spite Lucifer, standing a few feet away beside Diavolo.

"—or that's my initial plan, but learning of your status in Devildom, that'll be a impudent request on my part." only to be cut off by her. "This concept of pact, it's similar to its meaning in the human world, I presume?"

"Hmm, yes it is, as far as I know." Replied the Demon Prince, serious expression now on his face.

"I see. Then, instead of your Highness making a pact with me... he might be more suitable for the task?" They followed her gaze not far off Diavolo and lands to the demon of pride.

He was repulsed of her sudden attention. "What did you say..?" His horns emerging, his set of huge, dark wings materializing. Despite having his respected Diavolo being beside him, he isn't called the Avatar of Pride for nothing. This shamelessness is just too much. "You, an insignificant human, wants to make a pact with me? Aren't you full of yourself?" Dark matter fill the atmosphere.

"Yes, well... I think a pact is a bit.." Diavolo winced.

"I know I'm asking for too much. But if I won't do this much, I can't protect her. I'm powerless against a demon."

"Hey stop there, human." The sin of greed butt in, "If that's yer' problem, then the Great Mammon here is already in pact with MC so this talk's settled." She looked at him for a second and squinted her eyes. "No, you won't do."

"You—"

"A demon who easily robbed her off all the money she worked hard on earning were definitely not cut to protect her, no– he's a threat to her well-being. Just any other demon won't also do. And this little girl is far too reckless to think of her own welfare. I can even imagine her throwing herself in front of raging demons." The little girl and her greedy demon were rendered speechless.

"That's.... True..." Diavolo and MC's acquaintances sweatdropped. That actually happened...

"Human's life is more fragile and shorter than you beings. I can't consider her pacts can keep her safe."

"I'm also trying my best to trust your race, but this is as far as I could. After all, I already witnessed two demons baring their fangs in front of me. I need an insurance, a bond I could actually hold on to."

"Even if you can't trust us, we also can't trust your words. What do we know? You may use my pact with ill intention. Pacts are absolute. A demon can't decline their master's orders." Lucifer's growl shakes the ground beneath her.

"I don't need you to trust me. Pacts are absolute, so do is the deal within it."

She faced the pair of burning crimson eyes skinning her alive. "I vow to use this pact solely for her safety and no one else. Should I go against it, you can have me. My soul, my whole existence; you can have everything of me."

"Wha—!! A–Alexa?!" MC's voice fell on deaf ears.

"She is my greatest treasure. If it is for her safety and happiness, I'd gladly sell my soul without any regrets." Unwavering, with no sense of lie nor fear her eyes ablaze, sending shiver down his spine.

He felt something: as extreme as as his revererence to the future Demon King; as intense as his fondness and affection towards his brothers.

Throughout the the moment they lock stares, she invades his senses, until she broke it to return her attention to the prince.

"So, is it possible for her to study here or not?"

"Are you sure? You'll really put your life on line?" With seriousness, Diavolo emphasized the weight her offer bears.

"Yes." A single word yet an embodiment of resolution tugs the corners of Diavolo's lips in admiration.

"Now that said it like that, everything makes perfect sense. I commend you. If I'm not tied with my responsibilities in Devildom, I, myself, might have accepted your proposal. That being said, Lucifer is the one who will decide as he is the one who will took on the duty." They returned their focus on the embodiment of pride, no longer in his demon form.

The said man then step towards her. When she's only inches away, he reached out to the stray ginger strands resting near her eyes and took it with feather light touch out of her face— with a malicious grin and expression is plastered on his face.

He took her chin in his thumb and index finger, pulling her face so close their noses almost touches and stares directly through her eyes, "Really? You'll give me everything? Your soul, your body? I can have it all?"

The fire that took him in a moment ago reemerges, without any signs of fear at all. "If I broke my promise, do whatever you want with me."

"I have a question. Out of all the demons here and the whole Devildom, why did you choose me?"

"I can feel your strength and great sense of responsiblity. I'm certain you're the only one who can do this task." Lucifer chuckled from her answer.

"You really know your way with word don't you? Just remember one thing. In this pact, I'm not your possession. You'll belong to me, is that clear? Just make one wrong move and your very existence will be mine."

"If by that you mean you will abide by the contract and do everything you could for MC then alright, I am yours." He let go of her chin and took a step back.

"Very well. I, Lucifer, am making a pact with you." The very instant he finished his words, a bearable searing is felt onto the center of her chest, right above her heart. She unconsciously held onto her chest from the foreign sensation.

"Ohh..? What a good spot for the mark to appear." Lucifer chuckled.

"Hey human," Mammon wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "That's incredible! 'Ya sure tied Lucifer around your finger! Now he can't do everything as he pleased. 'Ya know we'll make a great team. I'll teach you how to use the pact then let's take down that prideful man."

"How about this..." She grabbed the shoulder above her own. "You'll pay MC full or I'll bury you deeper than the pits of hell? I won't be needing Lucifer's powers to do so." Another hand grabbed him and when he looked up, a menacing Lucifer is towering over him.

"Let's not waste anymore of Diavolo's time. Mammon, let's talk about that debt once we get home."

MC held the hem of her shirt wearing a wry expression on her face. "Alexa...uhh..." The lady stared at the teen before reaching out to touch her cheeks.

"Ow–Oww, Owwie! Wec go!" The teen tried to pried her fingers from pinching her cheeks. "Ouch.. that hurts. You didn't have to do that.." MC pouts, massaging both of her throbbing red cheeks.

"That face suits you more."

"But still... I'm..."

"Hey, don't think too much or you'll exhaust your remaining braincells." The older female giggled.

"Hey... That's not nice..." Her little sister pouts again.

"Of course, I'm not a nice person after all." She gave her a subtle smile.

"MC, Alexandria, I'm not waiting any further." Lucifer called in the doorway, literally dragging Mammon's body by the collar.

"Let's talk about it later. Right now we should get some rest. I haven't been sleeping for two days you know. And you didn't sleep last night." Alexandria reached out for MC's free hand. "Let's go."

"...Hmm!" The youngest showed her usual bright smile that brings relief to her tightening chest.

Posted at last! Hahaha.

The idea of this story came to me in my busy schedule (and meh, I chose to write it during that time cause procastination called me.)

I did this first over my drabble "Dawn to Dusk" so this is actually my first story after half a year of not writing (I did a book in wattpad, but it's not Obey Me related)

I want to right a character different than our usual MC for a change, yet I don't wanna remove her out of the picture completely (or I'll die thinking to whom am I gonna pair Alexa 😆)

The flow so far moves the way I imagine it to be, though I don't know if Alexa's personality end the way I wanted it to be. And MC's name sure gave me a headache, so I was like, "meh, let's call her MC so everyone don't blend her character with Alexandria." I also initially want to make Alexa a "reader-insert" style but didn't because of the same reason.

Formatting sure gave me a hard time 😂 Took me 30 minutes adding that 'keep reading' button and fix that picture jumping to the end like an annoying grasshopper.

I've already started Chapter 2, meeting the 5 other demon brothers. 🤭🤭

If anyone have any suggestions, recommendations, request or violent reaction, you can reach me in the Ask box~~

Chapter 2, click here

#what a bloody chapter #i'm so rusty #obey me #obey me shall we date #om!#obey me lucifer #obey me swd #obey me masters #obey me lucifer imagine #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me luci x reader #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x oc #swd lucifer #om! Lucifer x mc #om! lucifer x reader #meenah-chan~~

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bldreamer · 4 years

Text

LOOK | MorkSun

Dark Blue Kiss : MorkSun

Summary: Five times Sun is surprised by Mork’s appearance. One time they surprise each other. Genre: Fluff. Hurt/Comfort. 5+1. Warnings: Tiny mention of power tools and stitches(?)

A/N: I miss MorkSun. @kdramama thank you darling x

When Sun notices Mork sitting on the couch by the window of the cafe, he has to do a double take. He’s still in his uniform, brow creased in deep concentration, pen in his mouth as he chews on the cap. The coffee table is covered in textbooks and his calculator is resting on his thigh as he jams his index finger mercilessly into the buttons.

It’s not the first time Sun has watched him do his homework in the cafe. So that’s not the thing that surprises him.

Sun smiles, holding his pad and pencil for extra smugness.

“Can I get you anything, sir?” he asks in his perfect customer friendly tone.

Mork mumbles something Sun thinks sounds like a combination of ‘No’, and ‘Go away’. But he can’t help himself to tease a little more. He’s enjoying the view far too much to leave so soon.

“You can’t sit here if you don’t order anything, I’m afraid.” He taps his pencil, pressing it to the paper. “So, what can I get for you?”

Mork pulls the pen out of his mouth and looks up through his thick lashes. Sun can actually pinpoint the exact second where his glare falters and he realises Sun isn’t going anywhere unless he plays along for a moment or two.

“Iced tea, and a restraining order,” Mork grumbles.

“Restraining order?”

“Mh,” Mork hums, “There’s an annoying barista harassing me.”

Sun grins. “I bet he’s handsome though.”

“And he’s really humble about it.” Mork turns back to his papers, pushing his glasses back to his brow. “His personality needs work, if you ask me,” he mutters, jotting something down.

Sun pouts. “You’re so cold,” he says.

“Was there something you wanted, P’?” Mork asks, distracted. “Or do you just enjoy bugging me even on my day off?”

Sun chews on his bottom lip, feeling a little sheepish all of a sudden.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” he says, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“Surprise.” Mork pushes them up his nose again, as if on instinct because Sun has brought them up.

Sun won’t say this aloud, he values his life. But the glasses are undeniably cute. Slim black frames, soft round lenses, and a silver bridge curved across Mork’s nose making him look equal parts adorable and sexy.

“Don’t get used to it,” Mork tells him plainly.

“Oh?”

“I get my new contacts in a week.”

That means Sun gets to see Mork wearing them for the next five or six days at least. He isn’t disappointed in the slightest. Specifically at the thought of tugging Mork into bed and taking them off for him before they kiss.

“What happened to the old ones?” Sun asks out of curiosity.

“They were making my eyes itch,” Mork comments, clicking his calculator and turning his nose up, apparently unhappy with the answer it gives him.

Now that Sun looks past his lenses and the blue glare they’re giving off, he can see Mork’s eyes are a little red and irritated. He wonders if the AC is making his eyes dry and he needs to turn it down or change the filter. He makes a note to do both before morning.

“I like the glasses,” Sun mentions discreetly. “They make you look distinguished.”

Mork looks up past the reflective lenses. “Distinguished?” he asks slowly, like he knows what Sun is getting at but he’s still curious.

“Like a sexy librarian,” Sun tells him.

Mork sniggers. “Pervert.” There’s a faint pink glow that blossoms from his cheeks and Sun can’t help but grin at the sight. “Hurry up with my order or I’m going to Boss Cafe to study.”

“Yes sir, coming right up sir.” Sun jots something down on his pad. “One iced tea, coming your way,” he assures with mock urgency, tearing off the paper and putting it down on the coffee table.

He walks away back to the kitchen to make Mork’s drink. He looks up from behind the counter to see the boy reading his note.

-Stay over tonight and I’ll show you how I feel about sexy librarians.

He doesn’t miss the smile that spreads across Mork’s face as he tucks the note into his top pocket, going back to his homework.

Mork starts growing his hair out some time around monsoon season.

His fringe is the only thing that’s different at first. It gets too long to lay over his forehead and Mork flicks it out of his eyes about a thousand times an hour until it's long enough to tuck behind his ears.

There’s an awkward stage where Mork grumbles about cutting it until Sun finds a new niche in threading his fingers through the long strands and brushing his thumb over the hairs at the nape of Mork’s neck in the quiet moments when they’re alone.

When it almost touches Mork’s jawline and starts to curl at the ends, Sun jokes he’ll have to start wearing a hairnet when he’s working.

The next morning Sun comes out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist to see Mork in front of the mirror, attempting to pull the front half of his hair into pineapple looking sprout at the top of his head.

It’s ridiculously fluffy and Sun hadn’t expected it to be so wavy when he started growing it out. It makes Mork look like a completely different person than the arrogant troublemaker he used to be. His rough and jagged edges softened into something warm and content.

Rain has taken to calling his best friend Mushroom Head and Sun often watches fondly as his boyfriend puts Rain into an unforgiving headlock and drags him around the cafe. It’s the only act of violence Sun permits under his roof.

“Need some help?” Sun dares to ask, despite being on the receiving end of a glare in the reflexion of the mirror.

“This is your fault.”

“My fault?” Sun echos, taking the hair tie from him without prompt.

“You told me I’d look good with long hair.”

Sun frowns. “I did?” he questions, racking his brain for that particular memory.

“You were drunk,” Mork says.

“That doesn’t sound like me.”

Sun manipulates him so he can reach the top of his head. Raking his fingers through Mork’s long hair and gathering the front section into his hand.

“You said I’d be as fluffy on the outside like I am on the inside.”

“That sounds like me,” Sun agrees. Drunk him anyway.

He twists the hair tie and makes a small if slightly messy looped knot on the top of Mork’s head. He steps back to admire his masterpiece, smiling at the cute hairstyle and Mork’s grumpy face below.

“You look adorable,” he beams, proud of himself.

“I look stupid,” Mork complains, not even looking in the mirror. “I’m going to the barbers on my lunch break.”

Sun wonders if the sounds of his shattering heart reach Mork’s ears. If they do, he doesn’t seem to care.

“Mork,” he cries, reaching for his hand.

“Shut your face, I owe Rain 500฿.”

“You guys had a bet going?”

Mork nods, disgruntled. “He bet me I couldn’t last six months looking like a mushroom.”

“Then wait until it’s been six months,” Sun tries to persuade but the expression on Mork’s face tells him he’s not backing down.

“It’s almost summer. I’m going to suffocate under all this mess.”

It’s probably true, Sun hadn’t realised Mork could have so much hair.

Sun pouts, Mork’s hand cupped in his own.

“Don’t cut your hair. Please,” he moans. “Please, pretty please, Mork.”

Mork shoves him away with his elbow, like Sun’s whining is the most annoying sound on planet Earth -it probably is- and says, “Give it a rest,” reaching for the doorknob.

Mork keeps the topknot in even after Rain outwardly cackles in his face and Sun follows him around for the entire morning sulking. He switches between pleading aloud and throwing him sad puppy eyes whenever their eyes meet but to no avail.

Sun is thoroughly heartbroken when Mork unties his apron and grabs his wallet and bike keys from behind the counter just after one in the afternoon.

Almost an hour later he comes back with decidedly less hair and less curls than he’d had that morning. It's a shade or two darker without the sun lightened ends. Neat at the back and longer on the top, catching on his eyelashes and Sun carefully pushes the fringe from his eyes.

It’s still just as fluffy.

“How does it look?” There’s a hesitance to Mork’s words, a nervousness about the way he holds himself.

Despite being in a state of mourning, Sun can’t help the smile that spreads across his entire face. He doesn’t deny Mork looks breathtaking. He twists his boyfriend around, hands on his hips so he can tie the apron around at his back.

“You have a tan line on the back of your neck,” Sun tells him with a small chuckle, brushing his fingers over the pale skin at his nape as he ties a knot in the neck of the apron “You look very handsome, boyfriend,” he whispers into his ear.

Mork smirks at him when they’re back facing each other, slipping something into Sun’s hand. “500฿ says you can’t pull off a top knot.”

Sun opens the hand as he walks away. It’s the hair tie Mork had had in earlier and he grins, eyes following his neatly trimmed boyfriend across the cafe.

“Oh, you’re on.”

The sight of the bandage around Mork’s hand makes Sun’s stomach drop to the floor. Especially when Rain trails into the cafe behind him with a sullen expression and a split lip.

Sun forces air into his lungs, taking a slow and calculated breath before he does something stupid like start throwing accusations around before he knows the full story. He’s made that mistake one too many times. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel like throwing up as his brain leads him to the most obvious places when the two boys shuffle towards him.

“We know what this looks like,” Rain starts and the sound of his voice alone makes Sun jump out of his skin.

“And what does it look like?” Sun asks, his voice more level than he would have thought.

He clenches his jaw, preparing himself for the worst but hoping for something better. A good excuse at least.

“P’Sun, it’s not what you think,” Rain assures. “I promise.”

Mork glares at him, looming large while Rain shrinks under his gaze. A stiffness that falls over the cafe, like time gets stuck and Sun can hear his own blood pumping in his ears.

“It was an accident-”

Mork throws his unbandaged hand at the back of Rain’s head making him yelp.

“Dude, what was that for?” Rain rubs the back of his skull. “I said I was sorry.”

“For the tetanus shot.” Mork wacks him again, gaining another yelp. “And that’s for the stitches.”

Sun puts down the tray he’s holding -it’s starting to wobble- and places his hands on his hips as he waits for the full explanation. Eyebrows raised, looking between both boys.

“I was using a saw in the workshop and this idiot,” Mork growls, “Decided it would be hilarious to jump out behind me. You’re lucky I didn’t slice my whole hand off and make you eat it, asshole.”

Rain’s eyes widen and he shudders, knowing his friend isn’t kidding. Sun is still trying to digest the part about the saw.

“What happened to your face?” he asks instead, working himself up from the smallest injury.

Sun highly doubts Mork punched his best friend, but it’s nice to have confirmation. Even if it sounds like Rain deserved it.

“He jerked his elbow into my face when I jumped him,” Rain complains, poking the cut with his tongue like he’s the terribly injured party in the whole thing.

“Be grateful P’Sun made me promise not to use violence anymore.” Mork clenches his good fist. “Otherwise you’d be scraping yourself off that saw.”

“Mork, darling,” Rain pouts.

Mork raises his hand, looking like he’s about to give Rain another head wack when Rain’s phone starts ringing -they all know who it is- and he skulks off to the side to answer it.

“Manow,” he whines into the phone. “Mork’s scolding me.”

Mork’s nostrils flare, glaring holes in the back of Rain’s skull as he walks away towards the stairs, trailing his backpack along the floor as he goes.

“Come with me,” Sun says, grabbing Mork’s arm and tugging him towards the couch by the window of the cafe.

He makes Mork sit down and gingerly takes his hand in his lap, holding it with the lightest touch, unsure where the injury is specifically under the thick bandages that go from his wrist to the knuckles of his fingers. Stark and white, contrasting with Mork’s tanned skin.

“It’s fine, I went to the clinic on campus,” Mork says, answering the question Sun hasn’t even asked yet.

Sun winces, looking from Mork’s face to the bandages. “Does it hurt?”

“It’s okay. Just a scratch,” Mork shrugs, letting Sun hold his hand without complaint. “The nurse said to keep it dry and change the dressings tomorrow.”

Sun furrows his brow, studying Mork’s face for a moment. He reaches out to feel Mork’s forehead with the back of his hand.

“You look pale,” he says, despite not finding much -or anything- of a fever.

“There was a lot of blood,” Mork comments flippantly like it’s the most throw away thing in the world.

“You said it was fine!” Sun scolds.

“It is.” Mork taps him on the cheek. “You worry too much, P’.”

“You make me worry.” Sun tuts, pursing his lips and he brushes his thumb over the edges of Mork’s bandage. “Don’t do any lifting with this hand, and make Rain clear your tables.”

“No arguments from me,” Mork shrugs.

“Sit down if you feel lightheaded.”

“Anything else?”

“Don’t scare me like this again.”

Mork’s face curls into an all too pleased smirk, “You thought I’d punched someone, huh?”

Sun weighs up his options of telling the truth verses how effective a bold face lie would be.

“You really have so little faith in me?” Mork questions, because apparently Sun took too long to decide his silence is answer enough.

“No,” Sun pouts. “But you can’t blame me.”

Mork huffs a short laugh. “Well, at least you didn’t yell at me before hearing me out.”

“It’s progress?” Sun offers with a weak grimace.

“Sure, P’. Whatever you say.” Mork pushes to stand, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. “I’m going to go get changed before my shift.”

“Yell if you need help,” Sun says, and he’s not even being naughty.

“I cut my hand, not had my arm amputated. I think I’ll manage.”

“Tell Rain he’s on toilet duty for the rest of the month for his sheer stupidity.” And for giving him a mild heart attack.

“You’re the boss,” Mork mock salutes him.

Sun sighs, lying back against the couch. Those two idiots are going to be the death of him.

“What’s this?”

Sun holds the pendant around Mork’s neck. It’s hard to see in the dim lamp light as Mork looks down from on top of him, the chain hanging in the air inches from Sun’s face. He knows instantly it’s different than the dog-tag Mork has always worn.

“It was cheap at the market,” Mork mumbles. He leans down, the metal pendant cold as it touches Sun’s skin and they share a chaste kiss.

“Is it what I think it is?” Sun breathes when they pull apart and Mork threads his fingers into Sun’s hair.

“Like I said, it was cheap.”

“It’s a sun,” Sun says.

“I thought it looked cool, don’t read too much into it.”

“You’re wearing my namesake around your neck?” Sun hums, not ready to let it go.

“It was a happy coincidence.”

“Some would call that fate,” Sun muses.

“You’re so cheesy.”

Sun grips the pendant and pulls Mork back down into him. He tastes of the hot chocolate Sun made for him downstairs before they clumsily stumbled up to the bedroom.

“Did you choose it for me?”

“If I say yes will you shut up, P’?”

Mork doesn’t wait for an answer before nuzzling into Sun’s neck, placing soft kisses from his ear down to his collarbone. He doesn’t like leaving bruises. He’s much more tender and gentle than Sun would have ever imagined but he loves it. Adores it. How careful Mork holds him despite the strength in his hands.

“Yes,” Mork admits between kisses. “It’s for you,” he murmurs. “Sap.”

“It suits you,” Sun tells him, bliss swelling from his chest as he trails his hands over Mork’s shoulder blades. “I love you,” he says, breathless and content.

Mork doesn’t return the sentiment in actual words, but the tenderness he gives Sun that night is more than enough.

Sun almost falls over a chair when he sees Mork coming down the stairs.

It’s the cafe’s grand reopening after Sun decided it was a good idea to remodel the whole place after the new year. Luckily he has a boyfriend and a brother, both of whom are good with power tools and a paint roller between them.

Sun had attempted to make himself useful over the last several weeks, but he was quickly demoted from project leader to the mere drinks maker when the two delinquents in his care pointed out that there’s a reason why Sun is a barista and not a carpenter.

Rain whistles behind him, eyes on Mork as well as he approaches, grabbing himself a glass of champagne -the cheap stuff, Sun was poor before the remodel, now he’s bankrupt- on the way.

Sun has so many things he wants to say, so many things he wants to do to this boy.

“You own a suit?” he manages to squeak out and he’s worried if he grips his own champagne flute any tighter it will shatter.

“I didn’t before today,” Mork shrugs, sipping his alcohol.

“You look…”

Sun trails his eyes over Mork’s form from head to toe. Mouth salivating. Mork is dressed in a royal blue suit with a pointed black collar, a black shirt, and matching tailored pants. He’s even wearing patent dress shoes and they shouldn’t be sexy but for a boy who wears nothing but faded henleys and Vans sneakers, it’s everything Sun never knew he wanted until now. He wants to rip the jacket from his muscular frame and weave his way into his neatly buttoned shirt.

“P’? P’Sun?” Mork clicks his fingers in front of his face. “You okay?”

Sun blinks, looking at his glass and wondering how much he’s drunk this evening.

“Huh, what?”

“You’re drooling,” Mork says, and Sun reaches for his chin so fast he almost slaps himself in the face.

He is in fact drooling. The corner of his mouth a tiny bit damp from saliva. And he’s supposed to be the dignified one.

“Are you having a stroke?” Mork sniggers.

“Maybe,” Sun admits, fingers reaching out to smooth the slight kink in the shoulder of Mork’s jacket. “You look incredible.”

Mork smiles, “You don’t look so bad yourself, I guess.”

Sun looks down at his own attire. He’s also wearing a suit, but it's grey and boring and he feels a little underdressed as the host now he’s standing beside his boyfriend, adorned in blue that brings out the golden flecks in his eyes and matches with the new blue of the Blue Sky Cafe.

“Do me a favour?”

“Mh?” Mork hums.

Sun leans in closer, his warm breath next to Mork’s ear, the scent of his cologne warm and woody. “Keep the jacket on until I take it off you later,” he whispers.

Mork chuckles, draining the rest of his glass.

Sun suddenly wishes the party was over and he could have his way with his impossibly suave boyfriend.

+1.

It’s late. The moonlight casts a haze over the otherwise dark room, the curtains blowing in the cool breeze from the open window.

Sun is lying on his front facing the wall, arms tucked under the pillow and his cheek smushed into the fabric. He blinks, wondering what woke him from his slumber. It feels like hours have passed but given how black the sky is, it’s probably been less than one.

He feels a faint touch on his left shoulder blade. Warm fingers moving over his skin and the markings there. They swirl with the lightest trace along the intricacies of the lines, so gentle it makes the hairs on Sun’s neck stand on end. The once rigid hands moving with ease and grace, outlining the black markings with beautiful familiarity.

Sun keeps still and lets himself enjoy it for a while longer. Quiet moments like these are precious to him.

“Are you having fun?” Sun asks against his pillow eventually.

“Mh,” Mork hums, unsurprised he’s awake. “I like it.”

Sun turns his head so he’s facing the room and more specifically, the boy beside him in his bed.

“Nong Mork,” he smirks. “Are you flirting?”

Mork tuts. “You wish.”

Sun takes a moment to study his face.

“Everything okay?” he asks, “It’s late.”

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Nothing to worry about, old man.”

Sun huffs a quiet laugh, fondness spreading throughout his chest. He turns his body over and rests his head on his hand as his eyes adjust to the dark room and the features of Mork’s face become clear.

“What’s so funny?” Sun asks when he notices the faint smirk across his pink lips.

“Still hard to believe you have a tattoo.”

“Why is that?”

“You’re so vanilla.”

Sun won’t deny he makes every effort to live his life with the safety bars firmly locked in place.

“I wasn’t always,” he says, finding Mork’s hand on the sheets and lacing their fingers together.

Mork snorts. “I can’t picture that either.”

“I was worse than you, trust me.” Sun studies Mork’s fingers. They’re softer than they used to be. “I put my father through hell.”

“So the tattoo was at the height of your teenage rebellion?”

Sun shakes his head, “No, that was just before I opened the cafe actually. I’d got my act together by then but I thought it could bring me good luck.”

“That sounds even harder to believe,” Mork says. “That you would waste money on a stupid superstitious tattoo when you were trying to open a coffee shop.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Sun counters. “I have a coffee shop and I even gained a boyfriend because of it.”

Mork pushes him on the shoulder. Sun knows if he turned the lamp on he’d see the boys cheeks flushed.

“Did it hurt?”

“I suppose.” He doesn’t remember actually. It wasn’t a pleasant time in his life and he regrets not getting it when he was in a better place. It’s worked out in the long run but it's taken a long time for him to look over his shoulder without his chest aching.

“Did you cry like a big baby?”

Sun chuckles. “It hurt a lot less than when you’re applying antiseptic to my face.”

“Where did you get it done?”

“Some place my friend's brother owns,” Sun says, twisting the silver ring around Mork’s thumb. A gift for the News Years just gone. “Why are so curious all of a sudden?”

Mork shrugs. “Thinking about getting one.”

“Really?” Sun says, surprised.

“I’ve always wanted a tattoo. Just never had the spare cash to pay for it.”

“Where would you get it?”

“I wanted something on my arm for a long time.” Mork traces their entwined hands on the inside of his forearm, just below his elbow. “But I guess it would be better if I got it somewhere hidden.”

“I like that,” Sun tells him with a knowing look. Thinking about being the only one that would have the privilege of seeing it. “But it’s up to you. It’s your body.”

Mork blinks at him, looking like he’s taken aback slightly at Sun’s words.

“Did you expect me to talk you out of it?” Sun guesses with a smirk. “I’d be a bit of a hypocrite don’t you think?”

Mork huffs. “Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

He has a point.

“Do you have a design in mind?”

“Haven’t thought that far.”

“We could get one together?” Sun grins, waggling his eyebrows.

Mork’s eyes widen and he looks mindly horrified for a second before he narrows his brow and glares. “I’m not getting a couples tattoo with you.”

“It would be cute.”

“It would be over my dead body.”

“Fine,” Sun grumbles, pouting. “Will you tell me? If you decide what you want?” He doesn’t like the idea of Mork slipping off by himself and coming back with a fresh bandage and a sore patch of skin.

“Sure,” Mork says.

Sun looks over at the pile of clothes scattered across his bedroom floor starting at the door.

“Do you know where my t-shirt is? I’m cold,” he pouts, hoping the look is enough to get Mork to reach for it.

The boy just sighs, tilting his head and not falling for it as Sun would have liked. There’s a hint of something he can’t quite put his finger on in Mork’s eyes however. Disappointment, maybe?

Sun raises his eyebrows. “Unless you plan on admiring my stupid superscician a little longer?”

“Shut up.”

Sun bites his lower lip. “You like it that much?”

“So what if I do?” Mork says, rising to the challenge.

“Nong Mork,” Sun teases, squeezing his fingers to clasp the boy's hand a little tighter.

The boy glares, but there’s no heat behind his eyes. “I think I preferred it when you were sleeping.”

“Then let’s sleep,” Sun says, tugging his hand until he begrudgingly lies down. “I love you,” he murmurs when they’re facing each other.

“Mh,” Mork hums in return. “You’re going to wear that phrase out.”

“Maybe I’m saying it enough for the both of us.”

It’s not a dig. He knows how Mork feels, in fact he knows how the boy feels before he knows it himself. It’s just he’s more of an ‘actions speak louder than words’ kind of guy and Sun can’t help but admire him for it.

“Night, P’.”

Sun brushes the fallen hair from his eyes. “Sweet dreams, Mork.”

He feels Mork shuffle closer, not touching, because Mork isn’t a cuddler, at least not for longer than five seconds under extreme circumstances. But he’s close enough that Sun can feel the heat of his bare skin and the warm breath from his lips.

Sun wants to lean over and place a kiss on that pink mouth, but Mork looks tired and he doesn’t want to ruin the moment of quiet stillness that settles around them. And so Sun closes his eyes to the boy's soft face and lets himself drift off, knowing by the sounds of the slow breaths, Mork is already ahead of him.

~Fin.

#morksun #sunmork #dark blue kiss #podd suphakorn #Fluke Gawin #PoddFluke #my writing

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chronicbatfictioner · 3 years

Text

Exchanges & Compromises - Chapter 14

The ride to the Wayne Manor the other day was uneventful. That is unless one counted the times where Damian had peeked at Tim's tablet and saw the financial report, and suggested that Tim let the Algol Enterprises acquire Drake Industries.

"No thanks, I'd rather have full control of it," Tim said.

"It will be more beneficial for a good size of masses if you have larger capital." Damian reasoned.

Tim glared at him. "But then I won't have full control, will I? So no. I'll keep your offer in mind, but not now, thanks," he replied.

"Am I the only one feeling strangely inadequate here?" Dick quipped. "I mean, we have two minors discussing business, and we, two adult men, looked on not even understanding what they're talking about."

Jason had to stifle a laugh at that.

"Do not worry, Grayson. Once I get into the WE books, Jason or I shall explain to you the intricacies of running a multi-national and multi-faceted business." Damian remarked. Jason bit the inside of his lower lip at Dick's nearly imperceptible eye-roll.

Dick glared at Jason with a betrayed look, "You understood what they were talking about??" he demanded.

Jason shrugged slowly, "I'm his legal guardian, dude. I didn't get hired just because I looked pretty!"

"While I am certain Drake would not mind to hire you just to look pretty, Grayson, I do not understand why you must insist on presenting yourself as a dumb oaf..." Damian commented.

"That's part of his charm," Tim replied, snickering. "That, and his ass. For the record, I didn't hire him for his brain."

"I'm a security guard at the Drake Industries' owner's home," Dick replied haughtily.

"Technically, he's the receptionist of my apartment building. But everybody else thought of him as my bodyguard because he's ripped." Tim explained.

"Ripped?"

"Muscled," Jason explained. Damian was not one for slang just yet. "Most people who got hired as security guards would be fat ex-cops or really skinny juvenile halls graduates, yeah? Does it still work that way here?"

"Unfortunately. That's why most people thought he's like, an 'ex-special forces' security guard for me to keep me from getting kidnapped like my parents." Tim elaborated.

"That would've been a hoot." Dick quipped. "Even without me present, I'd really like to see people trying to kidnap you."

Tim threw him a feigned-hurt look. "How cruel. I've been nothing but facetious and kind to all. Why would they want to kidnap me?" he deadpanned. "Plus, they'll have their respective faces shredded to bits by Mama. Right, ma?" Tim added, calling out to the front of the limo.

Catwoman - without her costume, turned out to be a woman named Selina Kyle - was driving them there, clad in an official suit and jacket and hat of a limo driver. How and why Jason did not know. But given the fact that Tim's parents were kidnapped while in a private jet, he reckoned that Tim would have had rather more rigorous security set up for himself. While Jason was yet to be sure what kind of relationship Tim has with Catwoman - similar costume notwithstanding; he was quite certain that said relationship would have been pretty close and public.

"Nobody gets to mess with my kitten and get away with nary a scar," she replied through the opened divider. "Now, we're half a mile out, because you pretentious rich folks have to make things difficult and far, far away from anything logical. You boys better are on your best behavior, yeah?" she added, referring to the fact that although they had come from Drake House right next door, 'next door' consisted of a few miles of long and winding road between each properties' gates.

She sounded like a mother preparing her sons to meet the Sunday school teacher, and something ached in Jason's heart. A flashback of his own mother, came to fore - Catherine Todd. She might have died succumbing to her own heroin addiction, but she was not a bad mother to start with. She tried to raise him with good values - values often mocked by their own neighborhood. Good manners that didn't matter much around the block, at least until Talia found him and brought Jason to her home. Also, the unshakable faith that there were still good people in the world, and there were people trying to make it better for them.

He wondered how is it that Tim could be so lucky with having two 'mother' figures like Catwoman and Oracle, complete with a biological mother who nearly had it all - especially when it comes to funds. He briefly wondered what it would have been like if his mother was rich.

Then he looked at Damian, sitting up straight in his seat, pretending not to notice the gates opening in front of them. He inhaled slowly, realizing that if his mother had been rich or had lived, things would have been much different - and much worse - for Damian. He mentally braced himself, running all of Tim's schemes briefly through his mind, until the car stopped in front of the Wayne Manor's front door.

The door was opened by a butler, a tall old man with a pencil-thin mustache and grey hair. For an untrained eye, Dick seemed to be the only one out of place, as he looked around and gawked over the extensive driveway and majestic fountain, the regal oak door, and the as-regal butler right in front of it.

For Jason, he knew that Dick was scoping the area, remembering the layout and/or cross-checking it with images that Tim had shown them.

"We are here to see Mr. Bruce Wayne," Tim introduced, formally handing a business card to the valet.

"The formality is quite unnecessary, Master Drake," the butler replied. Jason thought he could see a hint of amusement in the butler's otherwise stoic expression. "I know who you are quite well."

"Ah, but this is not just for me, Alfred," Tim replied, smiling. "The card is his," he presented Damian. "the other two are his minders. I'm just here to introduce them." While Damian, Jason, and Tim knew that to enter a 'high society' family home one cannot simply just walk in through the gates; Barbara was a little surprised at this, and Dick had snickered unabashedly.

'Alfred' accepted the card and read it, and now Jason was sure that there was a slight uptick on the man's eyebrows. "Mr. Damian Al Ghul. I see. Kindly enter, gentlemen, I shall consult the Waynes." Alfred intoned, stepping aside to allow them in.

They were ushered to the foyer, and left to wait there as the butler went to fetch whichever Wayne might be at home. So far, so good; Jason thought. Tim already ascertained that Bruce, the walking-disaster who was said to have broken his leg a few days ago while playing polo, would be home. So would Bane. Dr. and Mrs. Wayne were in the Alps, somewhere. As a common societal norm, Alfred should call for the master of the house - and that should be Bruce Wayne.

It took a few minutes, but Bruce Wayne came hobbling down on a cane - followed by Bane.

"Bruce," Tim greeted him because of course, Tim would be on a first-name basis with him; that 'high-society' boy.

"Tim Drake, in the flesh. To what do I owe this pleasure?" Bruce Wayne chirped, shaking Tim's hand as if it was a pump-handle. Tim's face didn't even change, but Jason could see a scowl beginning to form on Damian's face.

"Well, I reckon this should be a blood-family issue. They came to me because, as you might have heard, I have had some dealings with Algol Enterprises." Tim said. "There has been a tragedy, apparently."

"Oh yes, I've heard. Ra's and Talia... who would have expected them to be in such tragedy... I am sorry for your loss, son," Bruce leaned a little toward Damian with an expression of most-sincerity. Yet Jason observed the scowl on Bane's face, followed by Tim's stealthy, nearly imperceptible eye-roll.

"My thanks for your condolence, and am as sorry for your loss, father." Damian retorted, cutting straight to the case.

Jason would swear that he could hear a single surprised chirp of a bird somewhere in the vast area of the manor in the silence that followed. Broken only by a guttural roar.

#Tim Drake #Jason Todd #Dick Grayson #Damian Al-Ghul #Selina Kyle #Alfred Pennyworth #Bruce Wayne #Bane #JayTim #batless!au

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theangrypokemaniac · 4 years

Text

I'll state from the beginning that the images below display the sort of sweet synchronicity to which only love can give life:

MaAndPaShipping is the best ship, and here are five reasons why:

1. It Made James

Like the boy do yer? Ever felt the slightest tingle of warmth at the mention of his name?

Well get down on yer knees and give thanks to his mother and father for gifting him to the world!

Where would we be without their remarkable commitment? Could James have grown into the dandified dream boat of your desires if deprived of the safety provided by his parents?

Had they not brought him up, he'd be dead, The Dog of Flanders fantasy made reality. If miraculously he survived, foraging in the wild is not conducive to a foppish personality.

Is that to yer fancy? No? Then let's have a little respect. The luxury Ma and Pa gave enabled his macaroni tendencies to reach such heights.

Their love created him! How can it not be celebrated?

You lot would ship Jessie's parents but you can't, because she has no dad, and I don't suppose you'll ever assent to his obvious identity of Windy Miller, although 'Jessie Miller' has a wonderful ring to it, so what can be done?

Should a Pa Jess be conjured for the purpose, he still buggered off, didn't he? Where's the allure in a faithless git?

I can't comprehend the obsession with Ma Jess. As soon as here she's stiff, and what is there to remember but coercing her daughter into eating snow?

Hey, I named her. What more do you want from me?

I'd rather have the living, visible ancestors, if you don't mind.

Yeah, says the history fanatic.

Why not make the most of the chances offered, and follow a devoted couple whose love made a difference to your existence?

2. Canon!

There are many ships which I find repulsive for involving depravity, or absurd as the subjects haven't met, or don't inhabit the same fictional universe.

Video et taceo: I see and I say nothing.

Neither does anyone. Forcing decent folk in to incest, bestiality etc. is quite alright.

Perverted ideas are left alone, but woe betide a Rocketshipper, because that's offensive.

It may be the only original ship left standing, with proper evidence and sanctioned by Nintendo, but no, it's fair game for undermining. People pick at your arguments, quibble constantly and NEED to register their objections NOW. You MUST be made aware of opposition. You're not to be permitted your views the way those with twisted tastes are indulged.

Why, out of tens of thousands of combinations, does making Jessie and James an item provoke hostility?

The strength of negativity actually serves as validation, for why be so concerned if it's an impossible relationship?

However sick they are, I'm not anti any ship. I can't muster sufficient interest to do it, and if I scroll on, I forget. I certainly don't attack those responsible.

Anti-Shipping is inherently nihilistic for promoting loneliness. They aren't against Rocketshipping through wanting Jessie and James to be with someone else, as an alternative is not readily available, so the outcome of it is neither finding a companion.

MaAndPaShipping attracts no sourpuss silliness, for 'tis canon beyond question. There's nothing about being 'just friends' when married with a son.

How's the state of your O.T.P.? Not looking too clever I expect, and what's your contribution: wishing, and hoping, and thinking, and praying?

Cast it off! None of that longing is necessary in these quarters, as MaAndPaShipping is a fait accompli.

Hallelujah! Wallow in that Love!

Don't you yearn for at least one ship that all of us accept by default, to the extent these aristocrats are spoken of as a single unit?

Across the internet, Ma and Pa are bracketed as 'James's parents', never 'he' and 'she', always 'they', barely counting as distinct characters. That's how undeniable the love is between them. Sheer indifference has awarded it a blessing from everyone.

MWAH-HA-HA-HA-HA!!!

Of course, now I've drawn attention to it the moaning will start, but we all know a spoilsport when we see one.

If they had any legitimate complaints they ought to have mentioned 'em before this piece highlighted the marriage!

Except it won't have occurred to 'em previously, proving the eternal, indissoluble quality of MaAndPaShipping.

You get good value with this one.

Find a post referring to Ma and Pa as individuals and I'll have written it, for that's what you call ironic.

3. It's a Fine Rocketshipping Proxy

I was at primary school when Pokémon hit the West like the bright, bearded meteor it is, atomizing all competition for a child's attention.

I have shipped Jessie and James before I knew anyone else did it, unaware shipping was even a thing.

There are other pairs where I think: 'That seems to fit', but it's incomparable to what I feel for them.

It is part of me. I bleed it.

I have shipped it longer than most Tumblerries have dwelt upon the earth.

I used to believe, what with the hints and manga finale, that this resolution was inevitable, and all I had to do was wait.

Well I've been patient for two decades now, thus when I look at the modern incarnation, and realise it's no nearer to that goal, and instead is further away, waiting starts to wear a bit thin.

I resent the lack of appreciation shown to the fans by the cretins in charge, how any meagre shippy inclusion is done not with an interest in deepening bonds, but with the blatant cynicism of moulding us into performing monkeys dancing to their manipulative tune.

I dislike being treated like a sea lion, expected to clap me flippers at the wave of a fish, or as a panting dog begging at top table, where, because they're desperate to maintain the status quo, every scrap flung down from above now comes with an Anti-Ship kick in the teeth, just to be sure nothing progresses. Not whilst the franchise can still be milked for all it's worth.

I have lost faith Rocketshipping will happen. What passes for Pokémon today carries not the remotest indication of any intention on the so-called writers' part to finish it that way.

Even if it did, it's not my Team Rocket, it's those skeletal, gargoyle bastardisations. My Jessie and James never got the reward they deserved.

I'm somewhat in the market for a replacement. Beneath this loathsome carapace of acid and ice beats the tender heart of a true romantic, and it must have an outlet!

Shipping Ma and Pa provides a certain spurious relief, because it's as close as you can get to Jessie and James without it being them, both biologically as his parents, but they're so similar to the duo it counts as proof in itself.

Holy Matrimony! is prime Rocketshipping territory, not merely the balloon lift, but many slight additions are as important, like the haircuts matching.

Ma and Pa are therefore Jessie and James in the past, present and future:

The past for representing Jess 'n' Jamie gone Victorian, and we've all wondered how that'd turn out.

The present as it's there right now, absent of suffering the shameless whims of morons to get what you want. 'Tis yours to savour.

The future as a glimpse of Jessie and James once married with children, and they agree:

That's how they play it given the opportunity!

What, James in blue, for his and Pa's hair, and Jessie wearing purple, like Ma's, with a red shawl for her own, and Ma Jess's orange earrings to copy the beads?

• Money!

• Bun!

• 'Tache!

• Classy pad!

• Fancy gear!

• Pampered pet!

• Identical cups of Earl Grey!

4. Original Blend

Ma and Pa have only got two fans! We care more than the entire fandom has in twenty years!

Rocketshipping art is ten a penny, so why not display a pioneering spirit, sharpen up those pencils and be inspired?

Let your mind expand and marvel at the possibilities of these unchartered territories, and I'll reblog it if it's nice.

Pay attention to the condition of it being nice. I'm not putting up with any old toss.

Real Ma and Pa is what I want too, not those Sinnoh coffin-dodgers.

It's never been done! Every drawing breaks new ground!

I don't like fan fiction, but I wouldn't say 'no' to that either. Recall the 'nice' stipulation again.

Come on, be the first amongst your friends and get ship shape!

5. It Gives Us All Hope

Suppose your favourite amour one day became canon: you imagine that's the end of the matter?

Well it ain't.

Between Ash, Misty, Brock, Jessie, James, Gary and Tracey, there are three-and-a-half out of fourteen parents (Flint doesn't count as a complete man) and one out of twenty-eight grandparents, and that's not enough!

If the series drew to a close with your beloved couple apparently walking into the happily-ever-after, there's no guarantee it'll endure. In fact, the odds are they'll split up within a few years and leave another generation to fend for themselves or starve.

That's right, so don't presume the final episode is all you need to worry about. Can you rest easy knowing it'll go pear-shaped once the camera stops rolling?

It's futile soothing one's worries with:

Oh, but they know what it's like to be alone. They'd never inflict such stress on their children.

Oh really?

Look at that poor showing of grandparents. Either Pokémon has a system reminiscent of the sci-fi film Logan's Run, where everyone over thirty is vapourized, or these disappearing maters and paters were themselves victims of abandonment.

I bet when they settled down, they thought it'd be different for their kids, they'd make sure of it, but no, off they went down that same route of feckless self-indulgence, and that's being kind assuming they intended not to repeat history.

Depressing eh? What's the good in any of us surrendering to romance, real or otherwise, if love is but a mayfly of emotion, and all dreams are doomed to die?

Then Ma and Pa arrive, and suddenly the storm clouds part for a ray of heavenly light.

It's not only that they made the effort in what was probably an arranged marriage and have stayed together from youth, it's that they've stayed together when no one else has, which augments its value.

When separation is commonplace, sticking it out becomes rarer and rarer as any belief in the sanctity of wedlock erodes with every failure.

If they didn't bother, why should I? What's the use when it won't work?

Once that idea enters your head, it's over, and your gloom-laden attitude fulfils itself.

Society is collapsing about Ma and Pa's ears, but they persevere nevertheless, refusing to buckle under the turgid malaise engulfing the arrogant and weak.

It's bloody beautiful, man!

You may suggest an environment of supreme wealth erases normality, and to their class and time period divorce is still taboo, so they don't really have much of choice but to remain wedded.

Ah, but it's not as if they simply tolerate one another for appearances, or carried on for the sake of their son (which is more than anyone else did besides), not when he walked out on them.

They've been married longer than James has lived, so at least eighteen years (don't all squeal at once), and they're still blissfully contented!

They hold hands!

They use terms of endearment like 'dear' and 'my precious'!

They were made for one another!

They work as a team!

They want the same thing for James!

It could bring a stone angel to tears it's so beautiful!

See what success can be achieved when you try? When you endeavour to love the one you're with and make yourself worth loving in return?

Better that than chucking 'em at the first sign of trouble.

Ma and Pa is such an irrevocable union even the despair of losing their only child failed to tear 'em asunder, and that'd defeat many, but not this husband and wife.

Be grateful, for it means all is not in vain.

It doesn't have to be misery and pain: love can last despite the pressure of a wretched, hollow culture bent on self-destruction. Your ship might just succeed too.

God bless 'em for keeping the magic alive!

...

Why do I have the presentiment that I'm going to regret encouraging support?

#maandpashipping #team rocket #ma james #pa james #ma and pa james #james #jessie #james's mom #james's dad #james's parents #rocketshipping #kanto #holy matrimony!

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smile-files · 4 years

Text

heya folks

gonna write a long post about the nicest person i know who i’ll probably never see again :’[

it’s an interesting story, but i wouldn’t blame you for not wanting to take the time to read it. do what you’d like!

it was after 7th grade just ended; i wasn’t in the best place emotionally, things kinda sucked. i was excited for camp, however, something i always looked forward to. i got placed in a bunk and stuff, of which there were 4; i was happy with the counselors, too (their names were ariel and jared). i was kinda bummed that one of my favorite counselors, named eli, wasn’t working there as a counselor anymore - he still worked at the camp, but whatever position he had i didn’t see him around as much.

at camp i would carry around a drawing notebook and a fanny pack, in which i had pens, pencils, the like. i soon noticed that another counselor, named shai, had a fanny pack; no, we didn’t ‘bond’ over it or whatever, but that’s one thing that made him grab my attention.

my camp is a ramah camp, which is a jewish camp; one of the activities that we’d have were a kind of elective we’d sign up for, called ‘shiur’ (literally means work), which integrated jewish learning with some activity - sometimes it’d be calligraphy, or pokemon, or super heroes. during first session i chose the pokemon shiur. normally, during the shiur period, counselors would go off and have a meeting. but, for some reason, shai would always hang out near where we’d have our pokemon shiur. i knew, of course, that this was because of julian.

i don’t know a specific reason why, but camp ramah tends to have a good number of autistic kids going there; some of them have a specific ‘caretaker’ of sorts who are with them to make sure they’re okay. my sister had one, my friend abby, and julian - shai tended to be with him and made sure he was okay. (something i find fascinating about julian was how he loved drawing road maps and signage)

it just so happened that julian picked the same shiur as me both sessions -pokemon in first and super heroes in second - so shai tended to be around. in this way i got to get to know him.

he noted my art on several occasions - he said that i’d be good at doing henna considering how frequently i’d draw on the back of my hand; when making the banners for color war, he said he’d abduct me so i could do the banner for his team (no abducting ever occurred, lol)

shai is a very funny person - i don’t know his mbti type, but i’m dead set on him being an nf. he was nice to be around, and i keep describing him as ‘supportive’; no wonder why, considering the circumstances of most of second session.

near the end of each session, we would have an overnight trip we’d go on (for two nights, three days). on the first trip, shai unfortunately wasn’t able to come for whatever reason. it was still a fun trip, but i still missed him.

come second session, however, and things would be different - shai was able to come with us on our trip to baltimore! i ended up sitting in the back of the coach bus, and shai was sitting across from me. something i noted is that he’s one to ask ‘you okay?’ a lot. and i mean a lot.

on the first day of the trip, we went to the national aquarium, got caught in a downpour, and watched an orioles vs yankees baseball game in the rain. we arrived at the synagogue we were staying in and went to bed; i got my typical 7 hours of sleep.

the next day we went to six flags! i chose the slow group because i’m a wimp. i had been wearing my galaxy hoodie at the time; when we stopped to have lunch, shai seemed concerned about me. woop

we went back into six flags after lunch; at one point we went on some raft ride type thing, and we were sitting on a bench in the sun to dry off (we’d gotten drenched). i was still wearing my hoodie (which, i may note, is rather thick). eventually shai’s group came around and they sat next to us on the bench.

shai checked the temperature on his phone, which was 90 degrees farenheit, so he said that i should probably take off my hoodie; i was only convinced after the “do it for me” thing that people do that just sells it. note: after his group left i put the hoodie back on lmao, now that’s a story i tell a lot (along with the story of eli having gone illegally ziplining with jesus)

that night, for whatever reason, i slept terribly. i fell asleep at 10:40 and woke up 48 minutes later, at 11:28. i was left sitting in the dark, super bored; i watched counselors walk in and out of the room, i counted to 1000, i went to the bathroom to sing to myself, i looked out the window. either way i had to wait 8 hours for everyone else to get up.

by this time this was the last day on the trip, and we were going to go to an elderly home. we packed up our stuff, something i did quickly. i then kind of wandered aimlessly around the room, waiting for everyone else to finish. this prompted another ‘you okay?’ from the shaister.

i managed to nap on the bus, but only for half an hour. we eventually got to the place; we were going to talk to them, give them ceramic gifts that people had apparently made, and that one kid who can play any song on the piano by ear just went off.

you may know that i’m a rather shy person; this, for whatever reason, felt like any party i’d ever been to - isolated and very anxious. there were a number of girls who said they were scared, but they weren’t shy - they were just scared of old people or something. shai convinced them that old people are not scary, then came to console me; he noted that people used the pun of “shy” and “shai” sounding similar on him a lot, but now he could actually use that himself. he didn’t pressure me to do anything i didn’t want to, and even suggested going outside if i really felt uncomfortable. i probably should’ve gone outside, but i didn’t. eventually we all went outside anyway to have rita’s ices, but i didn’t want any.

i’m pretty sure that’s all the trip stuff, but there’s more afterward. there are some stupid inconsequential things that i just find kind of amusing, to say the least. for one thing, there were these tacky plastic champagne glasses that the counselors had for whatever reason; there was this show going on, and everyone was bored out of their minds. shai just gave me one of these stupid glasses with no context, for the lulz or whatever. my response was to draw a smiley face on it with sharpie and give it back. he found this rather amusing.

one day i brought this shark plushie to camp, whom i called ‘smore’ because he looked like a marshmallow. shai insisted it was a piranha just to annoy the heck out of us, an argument that lasted two days.

another thing, one of the counselors was going to be leaving for israel before camp ended, so we had this whole thing where basically you could give a shoutout to anybody and thank them; i decided to thank the counselors in general, as most teenagers wouldn’t tolerate leading around a bunch of loud middle schoolers; shai knew i was a rather shy person, so he said that it was a very good thing of mine to do.

my age group was actually an amalgamation of several age groups - rising 6th graders, rising 7th graders, and rising 8th graders. being in the latter group, i was going to take part in some stupid graduation. and, you see, we all had to write speeches for it.

i wrote a speech, whatever, which mostly consisted of thanking counselors (in general i get along better with figures of authority, eg. counselors or teachers or whatever rather than fellow kids). i was very worried about the whole ordeal, but i did it; afterwards shai said he was proud of me for giving my speech despite how anxious i was about it.

and note how i never outright told the guy how anxious i was about any of these things - he’s just the type of person who knows; i always value people like that, given how i never tell anyone anything :’]

when it came to the last day of camp, i wanted to make sure shai knew how thankful i was for everything he did for me. i didn’t know a single other person who was half as validating and supportive of me as he was. but, being me, i couldn’t just tell him. no, i had to make a hand out of pipe cleaners, write a card, fold it up and make it look like an ice cream cone, put the folded card into the hand, and then awkwardly give it to him.

he initially said he’d read it later; but soon enough he read it and then i got a shai hug. yea!

welp everything after camp sucked! before school started i was so worried how i’d cope with my dumb issues without shai being there; i came to miss him a ton. like really, a ton.

before that summer, i had camp dreams like, heck, maybe once or twice a year?

but since that summer of 2019, i’ve had ~15+ camp dreams. i really missed him. i longed for the support he’d give me when i was anxious, for the knowledge that somebody understood me. i eventually started having headaches a lot, so i came to ‘think’, “oh! he’s trying to telepathically talk to me!”

i never did believe that to be the case, but imagining that i could talk to shai was comforting. every day i’d talk into my hand, telling him how my day went, asking him about his, and sometimes singing him a song or something. this came to be a normal thing i did routinely. i would get worried when i didn’t get headaches for a while, as i perceived those as him ‘responding’, so i would think i did something wrong.

i would frequently worry about if i’d ever see him again - i had no way of knowing if he’d be a counselor at camp this year. then covid-19 came and i knew he couldn’t. at some points it really bothered me how much my mental health revolved around this person who i knew for around 2 months and who i’ll probably never see again.

as of now, i still do miss him. i still had camp dreams. i literally had one last night, where i saw shai and was trying to call out to him, but he didn’t hear me. i still do ‘talk’ to him, but it’s not like i think i’m actually speaking to him. but heck, if it’s comforting to me, there’s no reason not to.

but really, shai seems more like a figment of my imagination now. it’s been a year since i’ve last seen him. was he ever real?

i would draw him sometimes, imagine what it’d be like to talk to him again. how i wish i could talk to him again.

there are so many silly little things i remember about shai - his poofy hair, his aviator sunglasses, how his fanny pack had writing on it in red sharpie and had multiple sunscreens in it, how he almost got hit by a cookie...

shai is the nicest person i’ve ever known, and it’s a shame that i’ll probably never see him again. he’s the kind of person i want to be - i want to be able to understand people and cheer them up when they’re upset. i want to have poofy hair and call people ‘bud’ unironically...

oh to be you, shai...

(oh wait, i know he exists because apparently you can find his channel on youtube and his pfp is his face... the only thing on it is one comment saying “thanks for subscribing” lmao :’])

if any of you know who i’m talking about, or think you do, please tell me!! :’0

thanks broskis *sob*

#ramble #long post #shai bocarsly if you're out there i miss you so hecking much aaaaaa #wait i already had that tag?#oh #when the heck did i use it before?#:']

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anne-lister-adventures · 4 years

Text

Wednesday, 12 March 1840

5 35/’’

11 50/’’

Reaumur 10º on my table (our breakfast and washing and writing table – Our only one) at 6 1/4 a.m. Quite ready – Washed and at breakfast at 5 55/’’ – Not bit here tho’ abundance of the sort of beetle and another sort of little insect likish a small beetley (hard back) ant? Do these larger insects that the people never seem to disturb and that swarm on the walls, keep them free from insects of worse kind, bugs &c.?

Just after breakfast Gross came in flippantly saying ‘a great misfortune’ – Beginning to enlarge upon breaking my St. P-[Petersburg] thermometer – This too bad – The loss too great – I never uttered ∴[therefore] his talking useless, and he wisely went away – A-[Ann] never uttered about it then or afterwards – Nor I –

Gave a blue note (= 5/-) to the old woman of the house (the old mother?) – She very well satisfied – One of my old thin leather gloves missing – Must have fallen out of my fur glove in the Prince’s Kibitka last night – Seeking it (the glove) detained us a few minutes – The only thing I have lost since Norway – Domna lost her little sac with p.[pocket] handkerchief scissors pins and needles &c. &c. = 4/-? She said, on Sunday night at Kopanowskaya (vide bottom of p.[page] 70) – off from Soroglazinskaya at two minutes before 7 – Ha Волга, on the Volga –

(станица Замиянооскя) at Zamianowskaya at 9 1/4, a poor and picturesque little fishing village – Unpainted board, little, cottage-like Station House but the best house in the village? We might have slept there – Neat little church – Had slept most of the way to here – Much snow in the river latterly – Fine morning – Not much wind – Have written all the above (in pencil in my note book) without glove on without my warm hand getting starved or even cold – Proof how much warmer it is today than yesterday –

Wattled farm yards – Hay stacked on the tops of the sheds, but little to be seen now – 2 Calmuc tents in farm yards – Large iron cauldrons lying about – Using for boiling fish grease – An undulating desert of fine red sand all immediately around the village – On rising ground at a little distance there seems a roughness as if of some low shrubby vegetation –

Off at 9 3/4 down again upon the Volga – The village lies along the sand bank close above the river – The right bank has sometime since lost its boldness (from Tzaritzine) – It is now little different from the sandy bank on the left side – Wherever a stick will grow, there is willow which fringes both banks more or less – Read Russian Grammar and sleep – Right bank low bare sand as last station – Left bank low but a line of wood –

At 12 1/4 Lebajinskaya (the village and good church at some distance) – Station House – Lone house – Large unpainted-board Government Station House, the Imperial Eagle as usual in the pediment of the front end – Forlorn – Getting out of repair – A sort of fosse all round the house, to clear it of the surrounding sand, now 3 or 4 ft.[feet] higher than the bottom step of the 5 or 6 up to the ground floor – As if the sand avait envie de l’engloutir – Sauntered about on the bare sand hillocks while we changed horses – The very desert of the great Zahara – Fine red sand that must blow about terribly – Picked up some of the white prickly low stuff that every where covers the sand where and as much as anything does cover it hereabouts – They say there is pasturage at some distance –

Off at 12 40/’’ at 1 25/’’ pass near under little village left bank – Is it not on an island? Our route yesterday and today has seemed very much au milieu du fleuve – At 1 50/’’ the Courier called attention to a man and boy going at a good rate on a huge camel – The 1st we had seen – The Prince’s (Prince Cerdebjab de Tumen) people, from near his garden – The large wooded island alongside us (left – a little distance) all belongs to him – In fact, he is Sovereign Prince of the Calmucks all along from here to Astrakhan –

The camel female – À double bosse – When fat, each boss stands upright – Now that the animal is poor, and hard-worked, and has just had a young one, these bosses hang down like 2 thick flaps (perhaps 8 in.[inches] broad and 9 or 10 in.[inches] long?) when they stand upright said George the animal is four archines high – Now she is only 3 – I should guess her to stand now (to the top point of the shoulder) 6 ft.[feet] 6 in.[inches] English that is 19 1/2 hands high! I asked if she was one of their tallest – Yes! And certainly the one we saw a little while afterwards stood 2 or 3 hands lower – This man has 2 camels – Some have 20 – The laine George called it woolly hair, is cast every Spring and is worth 16 Rubles per pood – She herself is worth 100/- all this took us 12 minutes the long line of wood near (left) is an island belonging to the Prince – Gave the man a 20 Silver Kopek piece – He well pleased – The nose of the animal pierced thro’ the ligament above the nostrils and a smooth hair cord run thro’ to which the cord (rein) is tied, and by pulling this the animal lies down for the people to mount or dismount – She chewed her cud all the while –

A Kalmyk and his camel. (Image Source)

We had been about 7 or 8 minutes in our Kibitka again when Nikolai (the Courier) called our attention to a fishing party – We alighted again, and stood from 2 10/’’ to 3 5/’’ over the square hole in the ice intently watching the outdrag of the net – The draught of fishes – It reminded me of the N.[New] T.[Testament] the manner of this being probably much the same as in the time of our Saviour – The net seemed never ending – They had got some little of it hauled out when we arrived, and it certainly took 3/4 the time we were there before we came to the end –

The mesh seemed about 1 1/2 in.[inch] square yet 2 moderate sized frogs and good sized prawn had not escaped – The net was a good deal torn yet there was a tolerable draught – Some hundreds of fish – Perhaps a tank of 2 cube yards would have held them

2 yards x 1 yard and 1 yard deep – There was one Poisson Blanc = 20 lbs.[pounds] at -/80 per lb.[pound] at Moscow might be had perhaps for 2/- here on the spot – This the most valuable because they salt this kind – There were 2 or 3 Sadocs nearly as large as the Poisson Blanc, or perhaps that would weigh said George 15 lbs.[pounds] and the Courier bought one (Sadoc) for us = 10 lbs.[pounds] and another sort of fish that George seemed to call something like Lyash – All the fish taken were of these 3 kinds – The latter not much valued – Our Sadok = 10 lbs.[pounds]) -/15 and the other fish was given? – There were about 30 men – Pay 25,000/- per annum for the right of fishing here – A certain extent of river – Could not learn how great – Water here about 2 archines deep and ice (said George) 1 a.[archino] thick –

Fishing on the Volga, near Astrakhan. (Image Source)

Off again at 3 5/’’ – At 3 50/60 at Dowinowskaya – Neat red-yellow painted board Station House at this end of village on our left – We had never stopped before having our Station on our left – It seemed as if we had got to the other side of the river – How is this – Neat white green roofed church – Village apparently small and not good – Merely a fishing village –

Off again at 4 1/4 – At 5 1/4, left, near, island of willows and a few Calmuck tents among them – By and by pass close left a line of Calmucks sitting on their hams on the ice, each (5 or 6 yards apart) at a little round hole not a foot in diameter (perhaps 8 in.[inches] diameter) fishing – Great breadth of river – Perfectly flat, sandy banks – The Cathedral seen at some distance and a church or 2 far in the distance ahead as if the Town or another Town extended far down the river –

We seemed to come within the precincts as it were of Astrakhan at 5 3/4 and at 6 1/4 we stopped at the address given us by our Postmaster at Jenotaiewsk – Full! Drove on and inquired at 2 or 3 places – No Inn – Not a lodging to be had – What to be done – Sent to the Chef de Police – Very civil – Came and offered us his house for the night – Accepted with reconnaissance – He spoke a little French – Thankful –

Astrakhan seen from the Volga in the late 19th century.

At 7 1/4, having waited an hour in the street and fallen 1/2 asleep, chez lui – A good salon and large anteroom – In clover – But long in getting tea – I lay on the sofa – Our fish (non Sadok) was to be boiled – But as it turned out the Cuisinier was out – There was no fire, no anything – And I had completely finished tea and lay some time on the bedstead they had brought before the fish came after 10 – A-[Ann] had waited for it – I tasted and then went on eating – Excellent – Never tasted such fish – Fresh – Fat – Full of roe – Well boiled – It was A-‘s[Ann’s] thought to keep it for breakfast – Had Domna at 10 50/’’ – Fine day –

[in the side of the page:] thermometer broken

[in the side of the page:] on the Volga all today –

[in the side of the page:] Camel

[in the side of the page:] Fishing on the Volga

[in the side of the page:] Station on our left

Page References: SH:7/ML/E/24/0043 and SH:7/ML/E/24/0044

#anne lister code breaker #anne lister #ann walker #moscow to baku 1840

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cryoculus · 5 years

Note

Can you do a part 2 to the ushijima soulmate thing? Please?

← Part One

Part Three →

» Word Count: 4,736 words

I’m sorry this took so long! This work is also cross-posted on AO3 and it’d mean a lot if you left your feedback on this post or in the link! Make sure to read part one first because this won’t make a lot of sense if you don’t~

***

“Are you really sure this time, (Name)?”

The dubious ring to Mei’s words was borderline offensive, but given all the false alarms that you’ve put her through, you figure that the tone of voice was entirely warranted. You heaved a dreamy sigh as you fell onto her bed, arm resting on your forehead.

“I swear it’s him, Mei-chan. I can feel it in my gut!” you proclaimed.

“Uh-huh,” was Mei’s enthusiastic response when she turned her swivelling seat around to face you. “Are you just going to pretend that you didn’t say the exact same thing the last time some stranger thanked you?”

You stuck out your bottom lip in a pout at her pronounced disbelief. “I-I don’t know! It’s just that, when I talked to Ushijima-san earlier, it’s like—agh!” Burying your face in her pillows, you let out a frustrated groan. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“I’m just looking out for you; you know that.” Mei exhaled a long breath through her nose before getting up to sit next to you on the edge of her bed, stroking your hair. “I’ve seen you give your heart out to a bunch of people who turned out to be the wrong person already. I just—I don’t want you to keep making the same mistake over and over.”

Her voice held a hint of remorse, possibly for her prior indifference. But you knew more than anyone else that if there was anyone who was as engrossed with your soulmate as you were, it would definitely be Mei.

You shifted on her mattress, sitting upright as you stared at the words scrawled on your inner wrist. Not everyone had the reassuring soulmate mark on their skin; not even Mei. Most would call you special, some even said you were lucky. But you’ve always believed that having a generic set of words that anyone could utter to you on a daily basis was more of a curse than a blessing.

To add even more insult to injury, you were a terribly hopeless romantic. The moment a person would say, “Thank you,” your heart almost always skipped a beat, launching you into the mindset that you’ve found your match. And no matter how many times your hopes were smashed into pieces, you’d continue to think that the next person would definitely be the one.

It was no different when one of Japan’s top five aces greeted you with the same words.

Knowing from experience that the best thing she could give you was time to contemplate, Mei left you to your own devices as she worked on the homework assigned a week ago from her desk. Sighing, you wondered how she had the unceasing motivation to balance her school work and her volleyball career at the same time.

“(Name)-chan? Mei? Dinner’s ready!” Mei’s mother knocked softly on her bedroom door.

“We’ll be down in a bit!” your friend replied, putting down her pencil to stretch out her arms. When she observed that you were still deep in reverie, Mei brought her hand on top of your head in a playful smack.

“Ow!” you lamented, rubbing the sore spot tenderly.

“Quit overthinking,” she chided as she yanked you by the wrist, forcing you to your feet. “If that guy really is your soulmate, then I’m sure he already figured it out. I say you wait it out just until he makes the first move, as all gentlemen should.”

You shot her a wary gaze. “Mei-chan, I don’t think the concept of first moves is exclusive to a single gender…”

“Fine, fine.” Mei rolled her eyes. “But all this time you’ve been the one initiating all those failed attempts. Who’s to say being a little more patient won’t work in your favor?“

There’s a preemptive pause in your conversation, and the gears click stupidly in your mind the following moment. “Mei-chan, you’re brilliant. Why didn’t I think of that before?”

“To be fair,” she began as she turned the knob on the door, “even if you’re a genius on the court, you’ve always been a special kind of dumb, (Name). Always barreling down life’s challenges head first.”

“Yet you love me.” You smirked, heading out of her room ahead of her.

Mei let out a wistful sigh. “Sadly, I do.”

***

On the first day of the playoffs, you ran into an ex-boyfriend.

You anticipated crossing paths with Oikawa one way or another whenever these tournaments rolled around. It happened every year, and you long suspected that he was doing it on purpose. A better part of you insisted that it was all coincidental, but from what you’ve gleaned from his personality in the short time you were together, Oikawa could be as petty as he wanted without feeling any sort of shame. It was no different this year.

“Yoo-hoo, (Name)-chan!” Oikawa called out in that irritating sing-song voice of his, slinging an arm around your shoulder with a nonchalance that didn’t suit your ill-fitting history.

You muttered a string of profanities under your breath. Damn it all. You just wanted to buy an energy drink from the vending machine in peace. Mei, who doubled as your personal bodyguard when the cunning setter tried to talk you into dating him again, stayed behind in the locker room to help your coach with some of the matching schedules for the day. You were defenseless!

“Oh, hello, Oikawa-san,” you said through gritted teeth.

Oikawa simpered, rubbing his cheek against yours. “Say, captain-chan’s nowhere to be seen. Who knew I could get to talk to you for more than ten seconds! Lucky~”

Scoffing, you pressed your palms against his chest, roughly pushing him away. He returned your gesture with a faux-angelic pout that made you want to slap him across the face. After your break-up, you slowly began to understand why Iwaizumi was under the threat of high blood pressure all the time. This guy was insufferable!

You could almost feel a vein popping in your head. “What do you want this time, Oikawa-san?”

“Maa, maa. No need to be so formal with me.” He waved a dismissive hand. “You called me Tooru-kun back in the day. Can’t we go back to those times, (Name)-chan? Give me another chance?”

“I believe (Surname) does not want anything to do with you, Oikawa.”

The familiar sound of Ushijima’s deep-set voice made your lips part in a muted gasp. Shiratorizawa’s ace emerged from one of the adjacent halls, hands stuffed in the pockets of his track jacket. His face was unreadable as he eyed the both of you intently. Oikawa, however, wasn’t as composed.

“Tch, you always want to stick your nose in every aspect of my life, don’t you Ushiwaka?” he snapped, that casanova façade of his immediately crumbling at Ushijima’s interference. “Why don’t you try minding your own business sometime, yeah?”

Ushijima hefted an eyebrow at his uncalled-for animosity. “Why don’t you refrain from preying on unsuspecting females? I believe Iwaizumi is not fond of that behavior of yours.”

“Iwa-chan isn’t my mom,” Oikawa sneered, but his cheeks flushed at Ushijima’s blatant reproach. “Y'know what? Go on ahead. Defend (Name)-chan ‘til the day you keel over, Ushiwaka. See if I care! She doesn’t give two shits about anyone besides her soulmate anyway.”

The setter’s words lanced through your heart without a moment’s notice, making you gulp nervously. You couldn’t even dish out some unapologetic remark as he strode back to where he came from. The words eluded you regardless of how strongly you loathed Oikawa, and you only noticed you were shaking when Ushijima placed a strong hand on your shoulder.

“I suggest that you don’t listen to him,” he told you, eyes roving over your trembling form. “Oikawa has always been…difficult. I know that very well. Were you in a relationship with him in the past?”

“Yeah. We were first years. I didn’t listen when people told me that he was a notorious prick.” You sighed, leaning against the wall as you tried to calm yourself. “That naivety came and bit me in the ass one day.”

Ushijima nodded in understanding, but didn’t try to probe about the specifics of your history with Oikawa, for which you were immensely grateful for. You’re aware of the setter’s blatant hatred for him, too, so if there was anyone that could sympathize with you, it would be Ushijima.

Well, one thing he probably couldn’t relate to you with was the fact that Oikawa was one of the many people you’d mistaken for your soulmate. Once you brought the matter up, the damn pretty boy had the audacity to laugh in your face. Apparently, Oikawa didn’t harbor any soulmate-identifying marks at all. He strongly believed that the whole thing was a sham, and even mocked you for believing in such. That was one of the worst break-ups you’ve had to date, and the fact that you’re bound to keep running into him during tournaments was something you were yet to come to terms with.

“You really didn’t have to stick up for me like that, but I appreciated it.” You spared Ushijima a sideways glance once you regained your composure.

“I simply did what I felt was right.”

A soft laugh rumbled in your chest before you fed the vending machine a thousand yen bill to finally make a purchase. You threw the ace a questioning glance over your shoulder. “Do you want anything, Ushijima-san?”

There was a momentary pause as he mulled over his response. “A Pocari would suffice.”

You punched in the buttons for two Pocaris and the machine dispensed just as ordered. Ushijima crouched down to retrieve the bottles while you collected your change. Once you shoved the coins in your pocket, the ace handed you your share.

“I will make sure to repay you sometime, (Surname),” he promised as he uncapped his drink.

“I’ll be waiting,” you joked, but from the solemn sincerity on his face, you figured he took your words at face value.

In the middle of the comfortable silence, you found yourself quietly scrutinizing the ace as he helped himself to his drink. You thought it was a sight that’s a little mundane for someone with Ushijima’s reputation, but it’s not like you expected him to drink Pocari out of a jewel-encrusted goblet. There’s just something about the domineering presence he harbors that made you forget the fact that he wasn’t some god that could overwrite your existence at the snap of his fingers. He was but a teenage boy unknowingly placed on a pedestal for his unrivalled talent.

And the same boy could very much be your soulmate.

“Ushijima-san, c-can I ask you something?” Your fingers wrung tightly around the cold plastic bottle, biting the inside of your cheek in anticipation. At the back of your mind, you could already hear Mei scolding you for your impatience. But the timing was too good, too precise, wasn’t it? Ushijima could have walked by a different hallway when Oikawa had badgered you into rekindling your relationship. Yet, he swooped in at the nick of time, like some higher order orchestrated his entrance just when you needed it.

The ace raised an eyebrow, humming a noise in acknowledgement. “What is it?”

“Um…” You exhaled a shaky breath that you hoped went past his attentive gaze. “I know this is a weird thing to ask, but—”

All of a sudden, the previously undisturbed atmosphere was filled with the sound of your obnoxious ringtone. You cursed under your breath, fumbling around your pockets to retrieve your phone.

“Where are you?!” Mei practically screamed when you accepted the call, causing you to wince at her sudden harshness. “Our game starts in five minutes!”

“Aha, sorry, Mei-chan. I ran into someone.”

“Don’t care. Get back here this instant.”

“You sound just like my—oh. She hung up on me.”

Sighing, you shoved your phone back as you cast Ushijima a sheepish look. The courage you’ve built up ebbed away like a retreating wave from the sea, but at least that analogy guaranteed that you’d return to give it another shot. “You know what? Let’s just save it for another time.” You flashed him an apologetic smile. “I have to get going.”

Ushijima nodded earnestly. “You best give it your all, (Surname).”

The send-off stunned you for about half a second. It’s probably natural for him to remember what you talked about just yesterday, but you didn’t think it would be significant enough of an interaction for the ace to bring it up once again. You swallowed thickly, jamming your clammy hands into your track pants as your cheeks warmed at his encouragement.

You were about to turn on your heels to jog back to the locker rooms, but before you could get further away, Ushijima suddenly grabbed you by the wrist. Your eyes widened at the contact; mostly because of how toasty his hand felt against your skin than the suddenness of his action. How could any human being be this warm in an indoor space—

“I’ll be seeing you at Nationals,” he declared as if his word was absolute, but it’s not like you questioned that fact. Shiratorizawa had this tournament in the bag after all. Ignoring the way your heart fluttered at his words, you nodded eagerly.

“That’s a promise!”

***

The Spring Interhigh Representative Playoffs always held more tension to it than the first Interhigh of the school year—it’s always been that way since your first year in Niiyama. Your coach said something along the lines of it being a team’s second chance for a ticket to Nationals if they weren’t fortunate enough to come out victorious in the previous tournament. Almost everyone who had been denied the privilege always came back stronger, which made defending the title of Miiyagi’s representative every year all the more challenging.

Unfortunately for them, you loved challenges.

“One touch!” you yelled once you managed to deflect the ball high into the air. Once you landed back on the ground, you shot Karasuno’s captain, Michimiya, a lopsided smile. She made a noise of frustration before settling back to position, anticipating the ball’s return.

That was close, you sighed. I was sure she was going for a feint there. Who knew good ol’ Tendou’s guess blocks could save a life.

“Nice call, (Surname)-senpai!” Amanai, one of the team’s wing spikers commended as she sent the ball barreling down the opposing team’s side of the court. Two girls in the front tried to block it out, but Amanai’s shot went through their fingers, landing cleanly on the polished floor.

The referee blew the whistle that signalled your team’s victory, and you let yourself collapse onto the floor in sheer euphoria. Those damn girls from Karasuno weren’t easy to snag a win from at all. So much for an easygoing first day.

As your teammates clamored around you for that last tip-up, you simply laughed off their praises, insisting that it was your intuition that made you act and it was Amanai who secured the win.

“That reaction time seemed awfully familiar,” Mei chuckled as she helped you to your feet.

You batted your eyes innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mei-chan.”

Your captain looked as if she was about to say some impudent remark, but then her cheery expression shifted to surprise, and then smugness. Leaning closer to your ear, she whispered. “Don’t look now, but lover boy’s watching from the stands.”

“Huh?” You tilted gaze around, only to be met with the same olive-hued gaze that never failed to mesmerize you every time.

Ushijima didn’t display any outward reaction when you saw him sitting with his team. If anything, it’s Tendou that looked more excited that you’ve noticed Shiratorizawa watching your team’s first game.

“You totally stole my move!” the redhead squawked loudly, his shrill voice echoing through the high ceilings. “Beautiful execution though! I approve, (Name)-cha—ow!”

One of his teammates sporting ash-blond hair smacked his shoulder, blatant irritation painting his features. “Can you shut up for once?”

“Never!”

As the two prattled on, you found your gaze wandering back to their captain, who was still observing you with a somewhat unrelenting intensity. You gulped as you raised a hand to give him a small wave in greeting. The gesture had Ushijima’s eyes widening by a fraction, but he still returned it with a small nod that made your lips stretch into a minimal smile.

You haven’t told anyone about your little scuffle with Oikawa in the halls; by extension, Ushijima’s rescue given that Mei was too antsy to think of anything else before the game. Now that she’s free of that burden until tomorrow, you considered telling her about the whole thing once you got back to the locker rooms.

(But a tiny, illogical part of you wanted to keep those few moments with the ace to yourself.)

“Senpai, it’s time to go!”

Realizing that the court staff was already making preparations for the next match, you rushed back to as your team headed back to the locker rooms. And even if you were flung into a conversation as soon as you joined the fray, you knew that Ushijima’s eyes never left you for a second.

***

Naturally, Niiyama snagged the title of Miyagi’s female team representative on the last day of the tournament.

It didn’t come off as a surprise to anyone, since your school had always been the favorite to win the playoffs each year. And as you waited for the awards ceremony, your coach insisted that all of you watched the finals game for the men’s division to kill time. Your team was seated on Shiratorizawa’s side of the court, and like all veteran spectators, a majority of the audience had their hearts set on the powerhouse school’s victory, yourself included.

Everyone trusted Ushijima to command the tides of favor whenever Karasuno gained the upper hand. He had the reliability of an unmovable ace, which made placing one’s bets on the team he’s in much easier because why wouldn’t Ushijima Wakatoshi go to Nationals on his last year of high school?

But as all kings did, Ushijima was struck with a downfall that nobody—not a single soul—had anticipated. At the end of the fifth set, Karasuno High put an end to Shiratorizawa’s long-served reign as the team who sat atop all else in Miyagi, and entitled themselves as your prefecture’s newest male team representative.

It seemed that not even the victors themselves could wrap their heads around the sudden turn of events. The impressive first year duo nearly screamed their heads off as the rest of the boys crowded that blond middle blocker who served as their first line of defense throughout the game. The poor guy had to sit out a set to get his fingers taped, too. You’ve been on the receiving end of Ushijima’s powerful spikes and serves, and you knew that putting a stop to them was no laughing matter.

But when your gaze meandered back to Shiratorizawa’s players, you could see some of them on the brink of tears. You supposed that the disappointment that made your stomach sink was nothing compared to what those who actually fought the losing battle on the court were feeling.

When both teams finished lining up to shake hands, the court was almost immediately tidied up in preparation for the awards ceremony. Your observant gaze never drifted too far from those boys in maroon. Some were letting the waterworks loose, but others retained a mask of neutrality.

Tendou, however, didn’t seem as sullen as the rest. You weren’t sure if your eyes are deceiving you, but the redhead seemed to keep throwing glances at that blond middle blocker from Karasuno. But you couldn’t quite keep your gaze transfixed on him when Ushijima was right there, head held high like he never once lost a war.

I’ll be seeing you at Nationals.

“What the hell?” Mei articulated in disbelief, and you honestly couldn’t have said it any better.

***

Not an hour later, yours and Karasuno’s teams were lined up on the makeshift stage, grinning from ear-to-ear as the respective awards were handed out. The sporadic glare of camera flashes left spots dancing behind your eyes, but you couldn’t spare another thought at the uncomfortable sensation. Even if it wasn’t your first time heading to Nationals, the assurance that you’ll still be playing to represent the prefecture was all too surreal. You felt as if nothing could make this day any better.

“For the Niiyama Girls’ High School volleyball team, may we please call Miss (Surname) (Name) to step forward to be recognized as the Most Valuable Player.”

The audience applauded at the mention of your name, but the first reaction garnered from you was, “Say sike right now.”

“Shut up and take it, you idiot,” Mei elbowed your side. “Everyone agreed that you’re the one who practically carried the whole team.”

“Mei-chan, I couldn’t have done anything significant without you guys! Amanai scored a lot. E-even Iruka!”

“Senpai, give yourself some credit,” Amanai chided, shaking her head.

“B-But—”

“Alright, just like we practiced,” Mei intercepted before you could utter another protest. “On three. One, two—”

“Three!”

Your teammates crowded behind you in the cramped space and shoved you forward where the organizer, Sato Daiki, was already standing by Karasuno’s MVP. (He was the first year middle blocker who you found out went by Tsukishima.) You yelped at the sudden propulsion, keeping yourself from toppling off balance, and you could see that Tsukishima brat snickering none-too-discreetly.

“Congratulations,” Sato remarked with a warm smile, and you ducked your head a little so he could hang the complementary medal around your neck, muttering your sincere thanks.

In the preceding moment, you were required to pose for a photo with Sato and the men’s division’s MVP, so you flashed a grin that you surprisingly didn’t have to fake. You held the look for a few seconds, until your eyes caught a familiar figure watching from the stands.

Tendou seemed to be speaking to Ushijima about something, throwing animated gestures towards the vague direction of the ceremony in his usual Tendou fashion. His captain was composed as usual, but Ushijima looked like he was listening to his friend’s prattling, nonetheless. The sight made your toothy grin tone down into a lopsided curl of your lips.

In spite of that, the fact that Ushijima was sitting there and not standing here with you only reminded you of the promise that you didn’t really set to stone, but still looked forward to regardless.

When you sauntered back to your place in line, Mei almost immediately noticed the shift in your mood. “You alright?”

You nodded too vigorously to be considered sincere, and at the same time, your eyes managed to catch Ushijima’s even at the distance that separated the both of you. He held your gaze for a few moments before his mouth curved into a rare smile you’ve never seen him wear at all.

Forcing down the trepidation that swelled in your chest, you chuckled shakily, hoping Mei would let you off the hook just this once.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

***

Once the ceremony came to an end, you immediately bolted out of the gym before anyone could reel you back. You ran through the hallways and climbed up the staircase that led to the stands, not caring for those you rudely bumped into. That familiar surge of adrenaline thrummed in your veins as your heart practically screamed, It’s him! It’s him! It’s him!

To hell with Mei’s sentiments on patience. To hell with diving headfirst into uncertainty. You could feel it right down to your core that Ushijima Wakatoshi was your soulmate, and if you had to postpone your long-awaited union any longer, you’d lose your mind. Now that the playoffs were over, who knows when the next chance to finally own up to your suspicions will come?

As you rounded the corner that led to the destination you had in mind, you all but crash into a rigid frame. But before you could stumble to the floor, a strong arm managed to catch you mid-fall.

And that’s how you found yourself staring into the viridian green of Ushijima’s eyes up close and personal.

Though you wished to stay frozen in that moment for as long as possible, Ushijima—ever the gentleman he is—steadied you with both his hands, concern lining his features.

“Yo, (Name)-chan!” Tendou waved from behind him. “That’s funny. Weren’t you just down there a minute ago…?”

Ignoring Tendou’s question, you turned to the ace without a moment’s delay. “Ushijima-san! About the thing I wanted to ask you about the other day…”

It’s him! It’s him! It’s him!

And just like the other day, he mirrored the same expression he wore just before Mei’s phone call interrupted you. “Ah, yes. What would that be, (Surname)?”

For a moment, the considerate expression on his face beat your resistance into futility. All this time, you were too afraid to look him in the eye because you’ve always thought Ushijima’s stares were all-consuming. The fear of opening yourself up to the wrong person once more constantly loomed over your head. But for some, inexplicable reason, you knew that it wasn’t the case at all.

You inaugurated the meeting, eighteen years in the making, with a simple show of your inner wrist.

“Are you my soulmate?”

Ushijima stared closely at the two words marked on your skin. Thank you. A simple phrase that you heard on a daily basis. A phrase that cost you time and effort from people that didn’t deserve both.

And it’s the same words that Ushijima graced you with when you first spoke to each other.

It’s him! It’s him! It’s him!

White silence saturated the air for a moment, for a second, for a minute—until your hope steadily dissolved back into dread. Why was the curiosity in his eyes morphing into an inscrutable stare that you didn’t want to be on the receiving end of? Why did he look like he was about to—

“I am sorry,” Ushijima murmured with a discretion that forced apart the ridges of your breaking heart. “I believe you have the wrong person.”

“Oh,” was your automatic response, like the one word you could use to summarize the crushing dejection you felt was a simple oh.

You pulled your wrist back, hiding it behind you as your nails dug into your skin. You tilted your head back, praying he didn’t see the tears glinting from your eyes.

“Sorry, sorry.” You hastily wiped away the evidence of your rejection. “I should be used to this by now, hahaha! I mean, I get it wrong all the time, so…” Your voice trailed off when you noticed Ushijima still gazing at you with that irritatingly diplomatic tact of his. “Just—forget I said anything. I’m really sorry to have bothered you, Ushijima-san.”

Before Ushijima could say anything in return, and before you could make a bigger fool of yourself, you turned back to the direction you came from, and left.

***

The drizzle of the shower head beating against your face easily masked the salty tears that slid across your cheeks. Each drop against your skin came in consistent intervals that only served to branch off the liquid emotion streaming from your eyes.

You wondered, if Mei had seen you now, would she still ask why you were crying? No, you weren’t crying. You were just taking a hard-earned shower after a long day. There’s definitely nothing more to it!

(You were so sure. You were so, irrevocably certain with him.

But you were also sure with Oikawa, with Yukihira, with Takahashi, with Watanabe, with—)

Your fist flung, and it hurt—smashing against the wall. You felt a wave of pain electrify through your nerves, jolting your arm, and yet it was nothing. You felt the hit, but nothing else. Just the water dripping down your hair. Just the shower clearing into view.

“No.”

You stared at the wall as you took a few deep breaths—in through your nose and out through your mouth.

“No more..” You turned the shower knob. You didn’t feel the thumping of the water on your face anymore. The tears have gone and so did the weight of it all.

It was time to move onto better things.

***

← Part One

Part Three →

#haikyuu!!#ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu fanfiction #hqfanfic #ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #soulmate au #haikyuu hc #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #hqscenario

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redhoodssweetheart · 5 years

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Vintage Tattoos Part Two

Genre: Alternate Universe, Tattoo Shop AU, Vintage Shop AU, Romance, Fluff

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: A few swear words

Description: Bucky owns a vintage clothing shop and you own a tattoo shop right next door. Bucky’s had a crush on you since the moment you stepped into his shop over two years ago, but you were in a relationship with someone else. Now that you’ve broken it off with your significant other and all of Bucky’s friends are telling him to go for it.

Taglist: Open

The day started out very differently for you and Bucky. You felt like you were going to explode from excitement, and Bucky felt like he was going to throw up.

Bucky was excited, but he was nervous as well. The idea of puncturing his skin so that ink could be placed there scared him to no end. He hated getting shots, and while he knew this wouldn’t be like getting a shot it was the only thing he had to compare it too.

Sam wasn’t helping either, “You actually told her you wanted to get a tattoo? You?” He broke down laughing.

Bucky shot him a glare from his stool behind the counter. Sam had stopped by that morning to deliver coffee to Bucky and one thing led to another and he told Sam about the tattoo. “I knew it would make her happy! Stop laughing!”

Sam was doubled over clutching his stomach because he was laughing so hard. “I’m sorry I’m having flashbacks to Steve.”

Steve had also been like Bucky, then he had met Peggy and his fear of getting tattooed magically disappeared. Bucky had teased him about it and said it was only because he was sweet on Peggy. Steve hadn’t denied it.

When Steve had gotten the tattoo Bucky and Sam had been there and seen every wince and cringe that Steve had done. “You will not be there when I get tattooed,” Bucky announced.

Sam stopped laughing, “Come on man!”

Bucky shook his head, “Nope, my mind is made up. You and Steve will not be there and I’ll make sure Y/N kicks your ass out if you show up.”

Sam sighed and picked up his coffee, “You’re mean, I’m gonna go tell Y/N.” He turned and walked out the door.

Natasha looked at you and saw the goofy grin on your face. “All right what’s got you all happy?”

You looked up from your desk, “What’d you mean?”

Wanda looked up from her own tattoo that she was working on, her twin brother Pietro had come in to finish his sleeve, her and Pietro’s interest was piqued. “Yeah, you do seem very happy this morning.”

The door opened and Sam strode in all smiles as well, “I hear you finally got Barnes to agree to a tattoo.”

Everyone looked at you stunned by the news. Peggy was grinning, “How did you do it?”

“I didn’t,” you said with a shrug. “He sent me a text last night and told me that he wanted to get a tattoo and that he would let me do it as long as he approved of it.”

Natasha flashed you a smile, “He likes you. He would never let any of us come at him with a tattoo machine.”

You waved a hand, “I just finally wore him down is all.”

Sam snorted, “Whatever you say, Y/N.”

You turned back to your drawing, biting your lip trying to hide your goofy grin. Maybe Bucky did like you back. Maybe after all these years you two would actually get together.

The others continued to talk about Bucky and his tattoo, but you drowned them out. You were working on several designs for Bucky, none of them would be his, but you wanted him to see your range and it was good practice for you. You were working on a cartoonish looking skull, cartoon style drawing wasn’t your strongest suit but it didn’t hurt to practice.

When Pietro was done he leaned over your shoulder to look at what you had been working on for the past several hours. “I like the dragon, would you tattoo that one on me?”

You looked up at him and said, “It’s just a practice one but if you want me to do a dragon for you then let me work out a few and see which one you like the best.”

He dropped a kiss on your head, “You’re the best.” He began to hurry out of the shop and said a quick, “Hello, Bucky!”

You turned and saw Bucky standing there a slight frown on his face. Your stomach dropped a bit, “You’re backing out aren’t you?”

His eyes met yours and they widened a fraction, “No! No, sorry it’s just been a long day.” He came over and pulled up a stool so he could sit beside you. “What’re you working on?”

“Nothing in particular, I was just trying to practice some different styles to see which ones you liked the best and go from there when I start to actually design the thing.” You chewed on the end of your pencil, Bucky watching you as the wheels turned in your head. He knew you were a perfectionist and you were trying to find a flaw in your work.

His eyes fell on the drawings spread out in front of you, he took note of the dragon that Pietro had mentioned. It was the most realistic looking one out of all the tattoos that you had drawn. He had always liked tattoos that had a realism to them over the more cartoonish ones. Although he did like the two sharks on your thigh that had the cartoon look about them, he had caught a peek of them one night when you had worn a dress with a slit up the side. He shook his head, he should not be thinking about that night right now. “I like the more realistic ones,” he said finally, drawing you out of your thoughts and back to him. “Somethin’ about the way they seem to come alive on a person makes them all the more cooler to me.”

You smiled a soft smile, you had always liked the realistic ones as well. “All right, I can do that. Do you have any ideas about what you might or might not want?”

Bucky chewed on his lower lip trying to decide what he didn’t want. “Nothing overly complicated. Somethin’ simple, ya know?”

You jotted down some notes on a blank sheet of paper with his name written on it. “Do you have anything that means anything to you?” You always liked it when tattoos had meanings behind them, the stories that people could tell.

“My shop,” he said. “I’ve always loved vintage clothing, you know my ma owned that shop right?” You nodded, you knew that Winifred Barnes had owned that shop for the longest time until her passing several years ago. Winifred had meant everything to Bucky and he was devastated by her passing. “Becca and I used to spend all our free time there during the summer, me more than Becca. I loved seeing all the new clothes people brought in and hearing the stories behind them.

“There was this one time, I was about sixteen and I was sitting behind the counter. It was one of the slower days. Ma and I were talking and having a good time when this older woman came in with bags filled with old dresses from the thirties and forties. Some of them had belonged to her mother and family members and she kept them for sentimental value. She pulled out this one really pretty, red dress and said that her mother had worn that when World War II ended, she had gone to a club and partied all night. Said that her mother had found love that night.”

“Do you still have the dress?” You were so mesmerized by the story you had forgotten to jot down any ideas that could have come to you as he spoke.

He nodded his head, “I asked Ma if we could keep it, there was just somethin’ about that dress, I couldn’t bear to see it sold to someone else.”

“Can I see it?” By this point you had completely forgotten the entire reason for this little meeting between you and Bucky.

He stood and held his hand out to you, “Yeah, come on.”

He led you from the shop, allowing you to flick the lights off and lock up before open the doors to his own shop. You and Bucky wound your way through the racks of clothes, you hadn’t been in here in a while, but it seemed more crowded than usual. He opened the door that led into storage and his office.

He riffled through a stack of boxes before he found the one he was looking for. He held it out to you and you gingerly held it in your hands. It was a deep red, with a V-neck, and capped sleeves. If you put it on it would have gone all the way down to your knees. There was a simple black sash that hung down the sides ready to be tied into a bow whenever the dress was deemed worthy enough to wear again.

“It’s beautiful, Bucky,” it was simplistic in nature, but it was elegant and classy. Something that would have been popular in a bygone era.

“Take it,” he told you.

You shook your head, “I can’t, not after the story you told me. This dress has meaning to you,” your heartbeat quickened a little. You didn’t want to take something that was precious to him.

“I insist, you’ll look beautiful in it, doll. Plus Steve’s throwing a party for his latest gallery opening and he says that everyone needs to come in forties attire. It matches his latest works apparently,” he shrugged and gave you a lopsided grin.

You held the dress a little bit closer to your chest, “Well maybe I’ll be as lucky as the last lady that wore it and it’ll bring me the love of my life.”

“Yeah maybe,” he said a little bit sadly.

The two of you shifted awkwardly and glanced away from one another. Finally, you said, “Thank you for the dress, Buck. I’ll start brainstorming ideas for your tattoo.”

“All right, I see you tomorrow then?” He asked.

“Yep, do you… do you want to grab lunch tomorrow?”

“I’d like that,” he responded. “When’s a good time for you?”

“Sometime after one, I’ve got a guy coming in for some touch-ups.” The two of you started heading for the street. “You’re welcome to come by and watch me work. It’s been a while since you’ve hung out at the shop. Steve’ll be there. Peggy’s going to tattoo him.”

“Again?” Bucky chuckled. Steve had his entire back covered in tattoos that Peggy had done. “He was so afraid to get the first one and now he’s covered.”

You smiled, “Who knows, maybe that’ll be you.”

Bucky snorted and gave you a side eye, “No, don’t even get that idea in your head. You’re lucky I finally agreed to this one.”

“And I love that you agreed. You’re in good hands with me, I’ll take good care of you.” You squeezed his hand and flagged down a cab. “I’ll be gentle with you.”

He smirked at you, “Uh-huh, you’re scaring me, doll.”

“Don’t be scared, Buck.” The cab pulled up to the curb. “See you tomorrow,” you reached up before you could chicken out and kissed his cheek and then practically dove into the cab mentally cursing yourself.

Bucky stood on the curb watching your cab drive away with the biggest, goofiest grin on his face. You had kissed him, sure it was only on the cheek and maybe he was reading too much into it, but for right now he wanted to feel excited over this.

When you got home you had pressed yourself against the door of your apartment, your heart still going a mile a minute. Natasha and Wanda looked up from their TV show and gave you a confused look. “Why do you look like a deer caught in the headlights?” Natasha asked.

“I kissed Bucky on the cheek.” The two of them let out squeals and began demanding to know what happened. You told them about how he had given you the dress that had meant something to him and how the two of you had stood on the curb and talked for a few minutes. Then how you had kissed him before fleeing into the cab and coming home.

Wanda grinned at you, “I’ve got an idea.” She and Natasha shared a look that made you nervous, and no matter how many times you asked them what they had planned in their devious minds they wouldn’t tell you a thing. In the end, you gave up trying to get whatever it was out of them, you knew neither of them would crack no matter what you said. You would just have to wait and see what they would do and pray they didn’t embarrass you.

Wanda and Natasha started a group text between them, Sam, Steve, Peggy, and Vision. All of them wanting in on setting their friends up together. It had been too long since either of you had been together and they believed the two of you were perfect for one another, but the two of you were scared to do anything about it.

#Bucky x Reader #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes x Reader fluff #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Reader insert

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deahsohun · 5 years

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What Is Ensemble?

How Can ‘Ensemble’ Be Defined?

‘Ensemble’ can have a variety of interpretations, dependent on the situation it’s used in. The Collins English Dictionary (2009) brings attention to the Latin origin of ‘ensemble’ to mean ‘at the same time’. However, in Ensemble Theatre Making by Bonczeck and Storck (2013;7) they write ‘in our work, an ensemble may be a cast, a class, members of a program, students, amateurs, or professionals.’ which helps me to understand that no matter what the circumstance, ‘ensemble’ is used in relation to a group of individuals who come together in order to achieve the same goal. Although it is certain that individual members of the ‘ensemble’ have independent goals that they would like to meet, it is also found that they have a common ground which causes them to work together in order to ensure it is carried through, in turn making it a success. I believe that over time the true meaning of ‘ensemble’ has been lost, particularly in the world of theatre, as I often only see it being used to describe a cast of people who support main roles, when in actual fact, it is the entirety of the cast in a play, or is even relevant to builders on a construction site. All in all, whilst ‘ensemble’ in itself is defined, the people who make the ensemble up, cannot be. An ‘ensemble’ can and will appear at any point in life, there are ensembles all around us, everyday, which is something we fail to recognise. From the ensemble working at the on campus Starbucks, to the ensemble of flatmates working together to make the recent life changing venture seem less scary, the idea of ensembles are something that we have been a part of for a long time, and will be for a long time.

What Makes A Successful ‘Ensemble’?

If I was to be asked ‘what makes a successful ensemble?’ before starting at Bath Spa, I would have answered that it is simply having the co-operation and collaboration with one another to create synergy and order. But after the few short weeks of being here, it has become apparent that whilst those things are essential to creating a successful ensemble as they create balance, above all else there must be a deeper bond and connection between those involved -something that has been brought to particular attention in the work of Bonczek and Storck, in Ensemble Theatre Making (2013). Whilst reading through Chapter 1, ‘What Is Ensemble?’ of their book, their idea of ‘we hope for lightning to strike. Yet think about it: lightning doesn't happen by happenstance.’(pg.8) resonated deeply with me, as it had me thinking about the true roots that bind an ensemble. If we are all seeking the same end goal, then surely, no matter how different we may seem at face value, there is something deeper, something more that we have in common? There has to be a way for us to develop in one like-mindedness, where whilst we retain our unique individuality, we can put any and all judgement aside in order to produce and achieve the result we all desire. Bonzek and Storck make it clear that ‘...change is possible’(pg.8;Ensemble Theatre Making) emphasising that we should ‘...research it, create a plan, take specific actions, and assess those actions as you go...we sometimes hold back from taking action because we fear killing whatever good chemistry remains’(pg.8;Ensemble Theatre Making) this fear is something that I know to be true from my own experience as part of an ensemble, and I'm sure it is something heavily felt by people who have been/are too, as we have a sense of not wanting to hurt other peoples feelings, however from this it puts into the perspective that we have a duty as an ensemble member to do whatever it takes to make a situation work, even if it may feel like you shouldn't, everyone who is a part of the ensemble has the responsibility to step up and smooth out problems with solutions -and be one to ideas of hoe to doses well. ‘Fear of killing good chemistry’(pg.8;Ensemble Theatre Making) is sometimes needed in order to breakdown and re-build the ensemble in a way that everyones desires are met and understood fully, only after this can we move on to taking action and putting into practice what we feel needs to be done in order to succeed.

Within ensembles, or any part of life where we are presented with the opportunity to speak up and give our ideas or opinions, I will happily admit to the anxiety I feel paired with the fear of judgement that comes with it. It’s daunting -no one likes being wrong, let alone being told they're wrong in front of other people who they want to impress. I know I have a need to be validated, and a desire to be accepted by my peers; but this can often be my downfall. Out of consciousness of being told that what I have to say or think will be deemed as irrelevant or stupid, I often bite my tongue and hold back because the idea of rejection is far scarier than opening up -despite knowing in myself that feedback and criticism of my own ideas will be helpful in teaching me something. An ensemble should be a place that is safe. ‘We find that protection in the form of a safe ensemble. It is a place where, for better and worse, we can be ourselves and be accepted’(pg.9;Ensemble Theatre Making) this statement encapsulates why I love acting in general, and why I want to pursue a career into drama therapy, because having a space where you can fully just be, with no limitations is rare and so should be taken advantage of. Ensuring that the ensemble is fully un-judgemental and prejudice free allows for a space where members can feel at ease and ready to share ideas and express themselves fully, which in turn develops the ensemble into a more successful one as there are no limits to what people share, making possibilities endless and ideas to be built on and expanded to reach full potential. It is through a shared struggle, a common love, and gaining a deeper knowledge that takes any ensemble to the next level, allowing it to blossom into one that is successful -due to being fully reared by the minds of its members giving all of themselves to their craft, without any boundaries. In turn of being ready to fully express ourselves, however, it is also important to learn how to readily accept other peoples ideas fully, and welcome them with a positivity and open mindedness, so we ensure that everyone feels the same sense of ensemble as we wish to experience ourselves.

What Are My Own Experiences With Being In An Ensemble?

One key ensemble I was a part of which stands out the most, is last year when I was part of my high school’s production of Grease. Now, it isn't the fact that I was a cast member and the acting ensemble is what I remember most, but in the final weeks before we were due to perform, the set, which was a mirage of 50s/60s features like jukeboxes and poodle skirts was left un-painted after the art team refused to paint it. With two weeks to our first performance, 13 or so of us worked together to paint, sketch, outline and bring to life the backdrop of our set. Now, putting drama kids who could barely even hold a pencil the right way in charge of creating an artistic set was always going to have it’s challenges, but we made it work. Our drive to get it completed and make our already stressed director feel some sense of release was enough of a common goal to work together during our free time during the school day, and after school, in order to make it look somewhat decent. From begging for paintbrushes, to climbing scaffolding and standing on stacks of chairs, it is a time that I feel wholly represents the true nature of what makes an ensemble -because of how we handled the challenges. We played to each others strengths, listened to each others ideas and our constant communication with one another fuelled us to finish as efficiently as we could. Despite being in the midst of exams and having other life stresses, spending time in the school hall, painting vibrant colours whilst practising the Grease songs and dances was an escape from it all, and it became something we looked forward to just letting go of whatever else was bothering us -and something we all missed when the show was completed. Whilst I would say it was a largely positive experience, as we did indeed manage to put aside the dramatic bickering you’d expect from leaving 13 drama students alone with paint, we relentlessly worked together to complete what needed to be completed. The common goal was to have a finished background -we all took pride in our acting and in how our drama department at school was presented and so we wanted to do everything we could to help, but I also believe it was deeper than that. These were people who were also my fellow actors, we’d grown up and been around each other from 11 years old, we were in many ways a small family -and our ability to bond together in the face of what could have been a disaster, and take that risk was what resonates with me most. And perhaps it felt easier because we were all friends, or maybe its because we used our natural intuition that came with our actor/director nature to divide and conquer and complete our tasks on time, but either way, it is an example of a positive, hardworking, and dynamic ensemble that I always aspire to replicate the values when working in ensembles now.

Bibliography

Collins English Dictionary; 2009; HarperCollins; Glasgow.

Ensemble Theatre Making; Rose Burnett Bonczek, David Storck; 2013; Routledge, London (Page 7/Page 8/Page 9)

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mexican-texican · 6 years

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Terms Of Endearment

Characters: Megamind and Roxanne. That’s it. Words: 2,513 (pout) When it comes to spending (nearly) every waking moment together, after so long one gets comfortable with the idea of using different terms of endearment with their significant other. Even if they're not always nice. Or the other person has no idea what you just called them. Up on Fanfiction.net if you want to head that way, or not, because it sucks, you can head to my new AO3 account. Oh, and btw, this is a gift for @elf-kid2. Yo dawg I heard you like nicknames. Hope this cheers you up.

“What did you just call me?” she asked with a slit of her eyes. She had to put her book down to glare at him properly, her arm hanging low off the side of her now ex-kidnapping chair. Lowering the drill, he reached for the screws balanced between his teeth thinking the metal had muffled his voice (but knew he reached slowly in fear of having said the wrong thing). “M-ma puce?” he spit out, a lone screw tinkling a metallic laugh as it skittered across the labs cement floor. She stared, her hand hovering dangerously close over the toolbox next to her foot. “And that means what, exactly?” “I-is French, for ‘m-my flea?’ I didn’t, is not-” he broke off, his voice dropping to dust. “-I mean it- it’s better than cabbage, at least I thought so, and with, I, well- I thought it was cute,” he mumbled, his cheeks puffing in defense. Her eyebrows didn’t drop from their raised-in-confusion position, her eyelids closing slowly to rest on his response as she pursed her lips. And then she laughed, light and feathery in the way it tickled his chest whenever she did. She shook her head with a smile and pulled out the soldering iron he’d asked for.

“Good morning, min lille guldklump,” he said with his sluggish entrance into their kitchen, yawning the entire slump towards the coffee pot. “What’s a ghould clomp?” she asked over the oversized spoonful of cereal in her mouth. “A wha?” he asked with another yawn, one hand on the milk jug and the other pouring a stream of sugar into his mug. “Oh, a gold nugget.” She nodded slowly in thoughtfulness, processing his words and her breakfast. She made sure to clear her mouth before attempting a response. “What, am I not good enough to be a diamond or something?” He gave a low chuckle with a quirk of his mouth, his eyes never fully opening as he slumped his way back out of the kitchen. “Love, gold holds more value than a diamond. If the world ends, diamonds would be worthless. Gold will always hold monetary worth.” “So does food,” she retorted with a snort. “Fine, fine,” he chuckled with a wave of his hand. “Whatever you say, honey.” He stopped briefly next to her seat, leaning down slightly to press a kiss to her forehead before walking out into the lab. She couldn’t help but smile into her bowl as she stirred her cereal for another bite.

“Love.” “Ngh.” “Darling.” “Mmmph.” “Megs, sweetie, are you okay?” He snapped his eyes open towards her voice, darting them throughout the room to assess his situation. Sitting in his wheelie chair slumped over the desk, blueprints spread throughout, a wet smudge on one corner directly underneath him, his drafting pencil on the floor-oh no “You sure you don’t want to sleep in bed instead?” she giggled. “No, I’m okay. Got lost in the moment,” he insisted, waving her off and picking up the pencil from where it had fallen on the cement floor. She eyed him from where she’d been folding the clothes by the couch, the tip of the pencil scribbling away furiously into the desk through the papers and blueprints that littered the surface. “Well, as I was saying the committee found it irresponsible to be stretching the budget to invest in shifting between regional chefs and decorative dinning sets whenever a guest of honor would be expected in the hall, but I had to remind them that how the hell are we to impress an investor from South Africa if the most complicated thing coming from the kitchen is carbonara on fiesta-ware. Of course Herault still had two cents to put in what with the mishandling of the ball funding, he’s still upset you actually brought in a bouncy house, so he-” she looked over again, seeing him slumped over the paperwork in the same stance he was in just barely a handful of minutes earlier. With a laugh that was carried out in a breath, she unfolded the last thing she had squared over the top of the laundry basket and undid the heavy fabric over his slumped shoulders. “Asteri mou, you’ll be the death of me,” she whispered into his temple with a kiss.

Candles decorated the room with a soft embrace, precise placements scattered between loose flowers and tempting chocolates. Once having scanned the entirety of her adorned living room her eyes settled on her kitchen bar, a lone card propped against a bottle of red wine with a single sentence written across it, the candle light seeming to glow off the shimmer that made up the flowing script. a ghrá mo chroí He recognized her smile, the million watt beam she perfected for the public whenever she was facing the camera. He frowned. “Wuh- Is something the matter?” Tight lipped, she carefully raised her gaze from the wine bottle to meet his, that “I-don’t-want-to-hurt-you-but-I-don’t-know-how-else-to-put-this” expression never wavering from her face. “I, it’s-” She lingered with a frozen face as she thought out how to simply explain “I can’t read this.” He drew his eyebrows together, lifting the note card from its place on the bar between them and reading the words written in love out loud. It was her turn to frown in confusion. “Why, where did, what gave you the idea that it’s supposed to go like that?” “I, I don’t, understand-” “I mean you’re saying it right, you’re just spelling it, very wrong,” she declared. “…excuse me?” She takes the cardstock from his hand and holds it closer to her face, as if shortening the reading distance would suddenly clarify the unintelligible hand writing. “Well see, this one is missing the rest of the word, and this one isn’t even a word itself,” she pointed out, her eyebrows still furrowed as her finger gently underlined the sentence. “Where did you even?” she managed to ask before he interrupted with a toss of his hands and an exasperated huff, reaching for the bottle of wine to uncork it as ungraciously as his pocket corkscrew would allow. “I don’t understand, it’s supposed to be in true Gaelic, at least as far as Uncail Derry had been preaching over it,” he whined with a pop of the bottle’s cork following close behind. “Claimed that Gaelic was pretty much a one and done.” “Gaelic,” she stated with a deadpanned stare. “Tell me, where was ‘Uncail’ Derry from?” He paused briefly in between filling glasses. “Northern Ireland,” he practically scoffed. She reached out for a glass after he had taken his own. “Not to be a jackass about it, but your Uncle Derry was an amadán.” He practically inhaled his glass of wine through his nose. “Hey, I resent that!” he coughed out. “And I don’t,” she countered. “Sweetheart, there’s a fine line between Irish and Scottish Gaelic, but there’s a line.” He eyed the card in her hands with his apparently wrong declarations of love, her fingers caressing the letters with as much cherishment had it been properly written in the other half of her native dialect. There wasn’t a hint of discontentment outlining her features, no outward signs of having been put off for the evening, just a barely visible sparkle of endearment tucked away in the corners of her eyes. “Okay,” he sighed, the gentle tap of his wine glass meeting the marble bar top drawing her attention back towards him. He outreached his arms to take both of her hands in his, his fingers overlapping the cardstock with hers. “Then show me.”

“Duckie.” “No.” “Baby?” “Eh.”

“Hunny Bunny.” “Oh good god no,” Megamind sneered into his milkshake, fishing out for what seemed to be the sixth cherry out of the mound that sat against the rim of the glass. Roxanne smiled around her own straw, her feet tapping restlessly against his own underneath the table. They both took note of a couple making their way into the restaurant when one of the men stopped short and was sidetracked by something just as they neared the glass door. Already having walked up to the counter, the other man turned around in confusion before spotting their partner making way to a pet store across the street, and rolled his eyes while making way back to the front entrance, throwing the front door open with annoyance. “Turdblossom, come here!” was shouted through the diner’s door, and Megamind inhaled his cherry getting it promptly lodged in the back of his throat while Roxanne had coughed into her straw, thereby splashing everything within a three foot radius with cookies and cream droplets. Including themselves. In the corner of a mom and pop diner on fifth and broadway on a sunny Thursday evening, Roxanne was smacking the ever-loving crap out of her blue boyfriend’s back while tears of laughter ran down her milkshake stained cheeks.

There was only three more things to get on the grocery list before they were done. At least there was, until she looked up from the list on her phone over the grocery cart. “No,” she said sternly to Megamind’s pouting face. He gave a wordless grunt and a shake of the box in his hands. “I said no, you’ve had your limit for the week I am not adding more.” More wordless noises followed by flailing arms. The box being shaken more sternly. “Blue I swear to god if you don’t put down those pop tarts-“ Having taking her words literally, he dropped them into the grocery cart with an evil smile only a toddler would know how to utilize. She lunged for his arm as he made a run for the end of the isle, settling on flinging the box of pop tarts into one of the empty slots in the isle they were in. Making her way to the last of the items, her grocery cart bumped into the leather clad behind of her idiot boyfriend as she said “Stop being a butt and help me get the can of capers down from the shelf.” Until he turned around with arms full of Rice Crispies. “Nuh-uh, no- damnit put those back.” She stared him down, his determined stance never wavering. “Listen here you squiggly spaghetti, if you don’t put those back this instant I will call Minion and tell him to move all of your hidden snack spots you think I don’t know about to places where even you won’t find them.” Fear in his eyes and the decision to not call her bluff forced him to pace down the isle in not-exactly-a-sprint-but-definitely-not-a-brisk-walk to rid of the mound of marshmallow snacks in his arms. Formal speed-walking her mind brought up, and she bit the inside of her cheek before turning up to reach for the top shelf herself. Standing alongside Roxanne by the checkout counter, Megamind gave her a sideways grin. “Squiggly spaghetti?” he muttered amusedly. Her lips twitched with the ghost of a suppressed smile. “Sounded better in my head than limp noodle. The way you fight sometimes, looks like someone flopping a string of spaghetti in the air.” He should’ve been offended, tried to be, but he really couldn’t.

Leaning over the side of the mattress, he could see she was still dealing with the worst of the fever. “Amor,” he whispered, the back of his hand placed flat against her forehead. Her hair framed her head in a wild halo spread slick across the comforter where she slept upside down, feet elevated on the headboard. She hummed without movement. “Fofinha?” She stirred, coming to with a dazed start. Her eyes seemed to look without seeing, clouded over with sickness and sleep deprivation as she patted down the surrounding mattress in search of something. Before she could make a full sweep he grabbed her pillow by the headboard, the one that was more down than feather, and slipped it underneath to where he anticipated her hand would pat down next. With silent satisfaction, she crumpled the pillow to its familiar mound and shoved it underneath her head, never once coming into full consciousness. Just as easily did she wake up was she falling under the spell of sick sleep again. He chuckled to himself, low in the back of his throat as he crossed his arms and looked down to the dozed off bundle of mess and soft snoring that was the love of his life. “Tão Fofa,” he breathed out with fondness before walking out of the room and closing the door with a barely audible click.

It had been a crisp night, the air sharp with the bite of winter coming around the corner. Most of Metro City had hidden away once the sun had set, but it didn’t stop Roxanne and Megamind from camping out on her balcony with mugs of hot cocoa and a sherpa. Nestled in the comfort of her outdoor papasan was where Roxanne waited patiently for Megamind to come back outside from refilling the mugs, one arm outstretched towards her as he asked “These ones?” She reached out a hand from underneath the warmth cover of the blanket, a rushed and needy sound through her pursed lips as her hand grabbed for her mug. He handed it to her with a wiggle of his hips, trying to work in enough space next to her in the already cramped pillow bowl to warm himself up again. He hissed cold air though his teeth as they fought for dominance over the Sherpa, grunting and nudging until they settled on overlapping their legs and sitting nearly chest to chest for maximum coverage. After regaining some of Roxanne’s body heat, he furrowed his brows with a questioning glance towards her. “I, couldn’t completely hear you from inside, what, exactly, did you ask?” She furrowed her eyebrows back, a gentle twist of her wrist to indicate he had already answered her question with the mug in hand. “No, I mean, what did you say?”

“To, get the marshmallows?” she asked more than stated. He shook his head. “Before that?” “I know what’s missing?” “After.” “The marshmallows?” “Rox-anne,” he chided. She bloomed, a radiant blush that he hadn’t seen since their first real date. Not that all the ones as Bernard didn’t count, it’s just that, well, they didn’t. Not when he got to appreciate the reactions he got out of her when he was being just himself without the help of a disguise. The blanket slipped from his shoulder briefly when she leaned over the edge of the seat to set her mug down. He didn’t complain. She caressed his face with both of her hands, her head tilting to one side with a delicate smile growing on her lips. “Matia mou” was all she said with an endearing gentleness, her thumbs stroking the high cheekbones underneath his widened eyes. “And, what is that supposed to mean?” was his turn to ask in a whisper of his own. She pulled him down to place a light kiss on his closing eyelids. “My eyes.”

#I'M BACK FROM THE DEAD #AND I BEAR GIFTS #OF FANFIC #myfic #megamind/roxanne #Terms Of Endearment #Nickname game #established relationship #domestic fluff #super duper fluffy #i gave myself diabetes #Megamind is a butt #and Roxanne puts up with him because she loves him #For elf-kid2 #much love #hope it gives good feelz

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247krp · 7 years

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— Rejoice, little lambs! We have recovered our own Chase Park, spotted prancing about in the Northwest Side. I remember seeing him with The Nobodies back in high school, but I’m not here to spill yesterday’s tea. So straight to the rundown: can you say eccentric and frivolous? Apparently now he spends time as PHD student and an assistant lecturer in occult studies, and keeps skeletons buried at Bukdong Apartments, 601. But those won’t stay hidden for long, if you and I have any say on it. Welcome back, Starmye; we missed you so.

In case you don’t remember the devil’s name, here’s to refresh your memory:

chase never bothered with his clique’s rep, which was practically nonexistent to begin with. though indifference did not mean ignorance; the quirky male was well-aware of how fellow students viewed them - the nobodies. people from mundane families with lives that were truly nothing to write home about. until of course the scandal with capital s which had chase move away from his rather indifferent, cheerful and carefree attitude for which he was known within the school halls, towards a more serious disposition ( albeit fleetingly ). reason? cha sumin. the girl he called his witch affectionately, who was perhaps the only earthly attachment chase cared to think about on his off day. the two were always joined at the hip and if they weren’t, chase and sumin weren’t too far removed from each other considering their natural instinct to always be pulled in by the other. though, sumin was not the only person chase was involved with. in fact, chase involved himself with many people ( sometimes simultaneously ). enough to earn himself the name starmye - mr. enlightenment; the charismatic guy with the lopsided smile who sometimes uttered incoherent sentences, made that dreamy impression and followed his intuition even when it lead him into trouble. starmye was no timid personality, by far, and despite the harsh whispers about his appearance or his affinity with satanic practices, chase was a ball of light, floating through cheongnam without a care - and perhaps that was his problem. care too much and you become anxious, care too little and you become detached, not only from your own emotions, but those of others around you. so, the frivolous male hurt his little daydreamer. he did feel guilty about that though. did he?

Nevermind the memory lane though, the present is always the ripest fruit:

perhaps chase park was the one person who changed the least after high school period was over, maybe because his personality had always been quite stable. chase had never been discontent with the person he was, and although he’s made some mistakes in his student life, he’s learned to live with those and accept that, no matter how spiritual he may get, he’s still a faulty, earthly human being. especially the drug addiction which he suffered from as a teenager and from which he has recovered for several years now managed to ground him considerably. he is still a guy with his head in the clouds, a whimsical and selfish person, but he is now more aware of other people’s feelings. however, awareness does not indicate action and he is adamant to never change to adjust to someone else’s emotions or feelings. the odd guy is his own person, and quite self-reliant. chase remains opportunistic and devious; a person who only values the emotions from those he cares about. he has embraced gossip girl’s alias for him, feels flattered by it and uses it for his palm-reading business. in his day to day life, chase teaches at snu and works on completing his phd in his free time. though, he remains someone who wishes to seek his own definition of nirvana and lives life in the present, uncaring about the repercussions for the future.

But we are nothing if not open books – my job is to ensure you get to the best pages:

“tell me the story about how the sun loved the moon so much, he died every night to let her breathe”

they were a bunch of pretenders. an average middle-class family like any other, getting by on an equally average salary from a car salesman barely meeting his targets and a businesswoman only in name, running her online lingerie store with a small quota of customers. they had a son, as had been expected of them by proper korean grandparents with more say in their family life than they themselves did. as was custom in korean society. that son received a less than customary name but his expected arrival after years of failed pregnancies more than made up for that little mishap. chase was dressed in little blue and white striped button down shirts and similarly coloured mini jeans with neat little shoes because that was proper, and god forbid if the park family were seen as anything else than proper. the boy’s dress did not change as he grow older either. his hair, now grown longer, merely added to the snobby look with a neat parting. the boy’s mother wore pencil skirts and blazers to work, which was essentially a tiny office space in their small apartment right above the car dealer his father worked for. keeping up appearances, was the family’s long-lived motto. but as chase’s stiff-backed mother kissed her husband goodbye while gazing into hollowed eyes that revealed more exhaustion than affection, chase still considered himself lucky. his parents, despite living dull lives with run-down routines, loved each other - and chase park was infinitely loved by them combined.

"and so being young and dipped in folly, i fell in love with melancholy” ( edgar allan poe )

in the midst of all the pretense, chase went to school and then some. in order to fit in with the upper class families, who had pretenders of their own, chase was required to entertain the idea of after school class at an english academy, for which he was eventually enrolled. reluctance stressed the boy until one particular class sparked his interest. the boy had never truly had interests of his own, merely content to follow in his father’s footsteps. practically a carbon copy of his parent, chase sat still in the one class which told stories of hecate and asteria, hades and cerberus and the boy found himself indulging in mythologies of the world. somewhat educated in the english language, chase embarked on an adventure through the iliad and beyond. his fondness of greek mythology stretched to a fondness of mythology in general, in particular celtic myth where fairy lovers enchanted the boy into reading on rituals and exploring the existence of witches. history explained to him brutal hunts of real-life witches, who more often than not were fake or pretenders. fairies give magic to people, the books read; and fairies are in league with the devil. needless to say, chase found himself intrigued with the fantastical and upon finding witchcraft and its associated with demons, the boy was sold to a future in the occult.

“in order for the light to shine so brightly, the darkness must be present” ( francis bacon )

sure enough, the prim and proper son of the parks traded checkered button down shirts for plain t-shirts and dark trousers. they were neat in their own way and thus his family did not mind the change much. in exchange for their acceptance, chase continued studying and brought home top marks. it was not a big deal to the boy with above average intelligence, who finished his school work with haste to allow himself to dig deeper into the world of magic and darkness. it was truly a miracle how the occult did not affect the purity of his soul, but seemed to enhance it - make it stand out more. chase had always been a friendly kid, ready to play with the neighbourhood kids and shoot ball on the basketball court. now, he was that friendly, misunderstood kid, who lost a friend or two because their parents did not understand chase’s newfound talent for dark humour. it also wasn’t chase’s fault when one of the teens ran away crying over his short lifeline. it was in his palm, what was chase supposed to do? lie? no, chase was no liar though the experience had taught him to be more delicate with the truth, for it is often ugly and unappreciated. in mystical traditions, the secret isn’t that you’re not being told but that you’re not able to hear. chase understood that he lived in a different world than most people.

“the whole and sole object of all true magical and mystical training is to become free from every kind of limitation” ( aleister crowley )

chase floated; between heaven and hell, reality and imagination. he was a guy who looked at the stars, not to make a wish, but to sneak a peek at his ancestors possibly shining down upon him with vague messages of their own. chase believed in angels, both fallen as revered; and in demons, existing in both humanity and as beings of literature and religion. sometime during high school, chase stumbled upon an opportunity that let him visit and face his own demons and they kept him glorious company until the teen could not longer distinguish reality from dreams. he was in touch with his spiritual side, saw things that no one else could see but the skin he inhabited started to deteriorate and the body he was given started to fail him. chase laid off the intoxicants that gave him wings and resettled back on earth. the man’s academic career was promising though not in the preferred field his parents attempted to urge him into. while at cheongnam, his teachers had no clue how to deal with the weird kid in the back of class, there was one person who slipped him contact details of a particular professor at a certain university whom chase eagerly contacted. he got into snu within a week and started his studies on english literature and world mythology. he finished within four years and immediately fell into a research project that took up most of his time, leaving social gatherings a rare occurrence.

“life asked death, why do people love me but hate you? death responded, because you are a beautiful lie and i’m a painful truth”

in the sanctuary of his own shaggy apartment, chase lives his life as peacefully and exhilarating as he can. the sudden hobby of palm reading a service he grants to those who inquire. the man keeps his parents at a distance, not because he does not appreciate their company, but because he wishes to rid himself of most earthly attachments. they didn’t understand him when he was a teenager, and still don’t. they take pride in chase’s profession but not in his field of research. nevertheless, chase park is two sides of a coin; it depends on how you flip him, who you’ll meet. at work, he is seen as the odd one out but a cheerful fellow who you can rely on, sometimes. his students love him and his supervisor inspires him. chase teaches on world myths and beliefs, parapsychology and extrasensory deceits. he preaches the advantages of religion and a descent into occultism. never will it be clear what his own views are on the subjects he instructs. chase park is an enigma few understand, and that is okay. because he is the painful truth among beautiful lies that only a select few will seek and even fewer find. it’s up to you whether you assign him to be your demon or your salvation. but rest assured, it will be magical.

#247: accepted

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evenstevensranked · 7 years

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#45: Season 2, Episode 13 - “A Very Scary Story”

Annnnd, we’re back! Let the countdown resume. I know y’all remember this one. How could you not?! It’s THE ICONIC HALLOWEEN EPISODE!!! Lawrence Jr. High is holding free eye examinations on Halloween. But, instead of being legit eye exams, students are getting their eyes BURNED OUT OF THEIR SOCKETS?!

It opens with Ren seemingly home alone the night before Halloween watching some knock off of “Psycho.” I like this bit. She yells at the TV, “Honey, you’re getting chased by 6 mutants and you’re just deciding to take a shower?!” — Seriously, though. People in horror films make the dumbest decisions. I think the fake movie footage is hilarious.

Just then, the phone rings. Naturally. And now we get a knock off of “Scream” lol. Whoever’s calling distorts their voice and says “Do you like penguins, Ren? MAHAHAH!” and hangs up. I wonder who that could be. (Sarcasm) Ren is walking around holding a skillet as a weapon which is kinda funny. She looks so uncoordinated with it. Turns out it was just Louis calling from inside the house. Shocking. He comes jumping out at her making what’s supposed to be a “penguin” noise, I guess. I really don’t know. He kinda sounds like Doodlebob, honestly. Obviously, Ren screams and Louis has the audacity to ask “Ren, why are you so jumpy?!?!" I love this line and the way Shia says it. I use it a lot, lol. He claims he just wanted to show her his penguin jockey costume. The costume itself is a true a stroke of genius. But, I’m sure there was a less serial killer way to go about the reveal, lol. This episode definitely gets iconic points for that costume, though. People have gone as penguin jockeys because of Louis: x / x ...Incredible.

Ren is seriously a wet blanket here. She refers to Halloween as “childish dress up games.” What da heck?! Lighten up. You’re like, 14. I embarrassingly went as Hannah Montana for Halloween freshman year of high school, 2007. Bad idea. But just because I have tan skin and wore a blonde wig, everyone thought I was supposed to be Beyoncé. I constantly had to correct people. I WAS HANNAH MONTANA, DANG FLABBIT!!! The struggle.

Ren tells Louis that his costume isn’t going to scare anyone. I never thought it was intended to be scary in the first place??? Either way, Donnie comes walking in and Louis makes some more Doodlebob noises at him and Donnie runs away screaming “AHHH! PENGUIN!” Wow. I’m only mentioning this because I read a little trivia that Donnie originally walks in holding a basketball, but when they cut back to him he’s suddenly holding what looks like an inflatable toucan or something?! What?! How do you forget that Donnie was holding a basketball one second and then hand him an inflatable toucan the next?! I do not understand.

“Wait, what was Donnie the Sports Jock just holding?! It was probably a basketball or something because that makes sense. But, I can’t remember. HERE! Take this INFLATABLE TOUCAN!” ?!?! - Probably the actual thought process that resulted in this ridiculousness.

At school the next day, we see that LJH takes Halloween VERY SERIOUSLY. Stuff like this gave me unrealistic expectations. If you wore a costume to school growing up, you were a weirdo and people judged you. Not here! They have some intense decorations and the entire school is dressed up! Well, everyone except for Ren — who’s in a freaking pencil skirt and blazer, walking around making sure everyone gets an eye exam.

This school is more ~lit~ than most actual Halloween parties.

We find out that Louis and the gang are planning a prank for the cafeteria: Putting fake eyeballs in the turkey gravy. Yum. Louis shows them the fake eyeballs he bought and says he just got them in overnight from Chico. It’s a small detail but I like that he mentions Chico. The city is also brought up in an earlier episode. I always laugh when Tom tells Louis “I need to get my eyes examined.” Louis says “YOUR EYES EXAMI— Tom, how many fingers am I holding up?!” And Tom has to squint at the fingers RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIS FACE in order to give the correct answer.

“.......Two.” // “Exactly. Your eyes are fine.”

Okay, long story short: Basically, anyone who goes in for an eye exam comes out acting like a robot. Students are walking around with sunglasses on and are suddenly obsessed with drinking milk and following the rules. Tom is the first victim of Louis’ crew. He says “I suddenly got quite a hankering for the Moo Juice. It’s an excellent source of calcium for overall skeletal health.” I FEEL LIKE THAT LINE IS ENGRAINED INTO MY MIND FOREVER! Tom bails on the cafe prank and says “If something like this were to go on our permanent records, it would follow us for the rest of our lives.” THIS LINE NEVER LEFT MY BRAIN EITHER. I feel like this episode was actually Disney propaganda or something, brainwashing us into drinking milk and being good students. Not even gonna lie, when I was young this episode made me crave milk... and I hated milk. *X-Files theme song plays in the distance.*

Tawny and Twitty both get their eyes checked and start saying the same robotic nonsense Tom did. Louis is having none of it, though. He yells “TAKE OFF THE STUPID GLASSES!” and we get one of the most terrifying moments of our childhood...

This is still so disturbing. Show producers Sean McNamara and David Brookwell wrote this episode. I seriously want to track them down and make them explain what gave them the bright idea to traumatize children in this way?!

The classic Louis Scream kicks into full gear here. (see first image of the post) I’m laughing because I just noticed that as he runs away, he whips the butt of the penguin like “giddy up!” as if he’s actually racing on it… Oh my god. As he’s running he shouts “NO ONE’S TAKIN’ MY PEEPERS!” which I always kinda liked, haha.

Louis ends up spying on one of the “eye exams” and the process is revealed! Wexler and Tugnut zap the kids’ eyes and do in fact brainwash them with the milk and permanent record mumbo jumbo. Great.

Louis is now the only student who hasn’t had an eye exam. Wexler, Tugnut and the whole school are going after him. He calls home in a panic asking for Steve and Eileen to come pick him up before conveniently hiding out in the Penguin bathroom.

His family shows up within like, 10 seconds. Teleportation is the only explanation for this. Louis goes to get his stuff before leaving... but OH NO! Wexler and Tugnut greet Donnie, Steve and Eileen and make them go in for eye exams. This always made me soooo angry as a kid. I felt Louis’ sheer horror and helplessness here tbh. Just then, Ren pops out of nowhere and Louis explains the whole situation to her. She acts like she has no idea what he’s talking about, but all of the robot students start chasing them so she helps him find a place to hide.

“Safe?! For how long, Ren? How long before those eyeless, sunglass-wearing, milk-slurping zombies get in here?!” - ALL I CAN THINK OF IS THE WALKING DEAD. “DON’T OPEN. DEAD INSIDE.”

Ren leaves Louis alone to see if the coast is clear. WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?! Does she not see the horde of zombie students through the windows?! Regardless, Wexler and Tugnut appear and take Louis down to the school’s newly renovated torture-chic basement. (Louis: “When did the school get a dungeon?” Wexler: “Actually it’s an evil lair.”)

Ren was the ringleader this whole time. She comes walking out looking like THIS and Wexler and Tugnut refer to her as “mistress.” Okay, this is a little creepy now...

Louis looks at the wall and says “R.E.N.....? That’s gotta stand for something.” - I clearly remember laughing at this line when I was little for some reason omg.

Ren explains that they’re going to turn everyone into “Renplicates” (actual Ren clones) because the world would be a better place if everyone just followed the rules. Okay, maybe that’s true. But, you don’t need to morph everyone into cloNES OF YOURSELF PHYSICALLY!!! Seriously... whaaaa?! lol. Around here Ren says “Tugnut! Turn on the juice!” which Jim Wise recently admitted was an innuendo line that the crew laughed at off camera. Adult jokes on kids shows sort of creep me out though, ngl.

Anyway, everyone -- including their parents, step into the Renplicator and transform into Ren.

Everyone except... Louis.

HONESTLY WHAT THE HELL?!?! I never liked thisssssss.

That’s where the story ends. THANK GOD! Turns out it was just Louis telling Beans a scary story. “Beans, you wanted to know what happened last Halloween. So, I told you!” To which Beans responds:

One of the only Beans lines I like. (x)

And that’s it! There’s a bit at the very end where Beans tries to get away with trick-or-treating at the Stevens house several times by wearing a bunch of different costumes. Donnie answers the door every time and says things like “That’s cute, kid!” and “Haven’t I see you here before already?” IT’S CLEARLY FREAKING BEANS!

I never understood this. I know Donnie’s dumb but he knows who Beans is. They should’ve just had a random kid do this scene. Using Beans makes NO SENSE. Also, he already raids their kitchen all the time as it is. He doesn’t need to go “undercover” to get candy from the Stevens house, lol.

That’s the Halloween episode guys! Strangely, not as funny as I remember. Still a classic, though... obviously. I was originally going to rank it in the #30s, solely for the iconic value.. but, when I was deciding on what to put for #45 I just had to put this one here. It’s a “special” episode. So it’s difficult to rank it any higher than this since it’s just a fun one-off, silly, seasonally appropriate episode. Nothing furthers the overall arc of the series here, lol. That’s not the case for all “special” episodes... But, this one sticks out like a sore thumb in comparison to the other 64.

Did it scar you for life as a kid?! I have to say that this episode and “Don’t Look Under The Bed” (which Larry Beale/Ty Hodges starred in!!!) literally scared the living crap out of me. Apparently DLUTB has actually been banned?! Whoa. To this day, I’m still afraid of some demon boogyman hand grabbing at my ankle...

Thanks for reading! Chime in below.

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#rank #even stevens #a very scary story #shia labeouf #christy carlson romano #ren stevens #halloween episode #season 2 #tv #tv show #disney channel #don't look under the bed #louis stevens #review #old disney

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