#but I could care less about xxx since he’s an abuser as well so what would’ve been the point of calling attention to drake being a creep
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I’m sorry but I’m never getting over Kendrick mentioning Drake’s cats name in the diss track bro.
#what the fuck 😭#rambling#I’m done talking about the most of it online because white people and nbs have left a bad taste in my mouth regarding it I feel like#whenever any black shit or art goes viral we have to have the same conversations about how our art is also valid and I just- it’s over with#but my sister and I have been 🧠 in#I’m just glad that more people have gotten comfortable enough to start publicly calling out predators by name#regardless of what sorts of repercussions it’ll have for their careers#especially someone who’s as huge as Kendrick man#that really means something#he’d have to reevaluate the people he works with in the future tho regardless of their legacies (Dr dre…. Kodak black…. and recently#posting a vid of xxxtentation of him eluding to the fact that Drake had him assaulted)#but I could care less about xxx since he’s an abuser as well so what would’ve been the point of calling attention to drake being a creep#towards little girls for over a decade if he’s still willing to work with a convicted rapist y’know?#I’ll always be a Kendrick fan regardless he does show that he cares a ton about our culture and black people and the sacrifices that we#have to make in order to survive and so on… he’s always seemed like a positive guy#obviously you can’t put celebrities on a pedestal but you get it#he’s that guy#I always look forward to whenever he drops any music because I know that it’s going to be amazing and that he actually cares about what he#puts out into the world#he’s not a numbers guy either he just seems to put out what he personally likes and what’s dear to him and it’s always nice to see artists#put their soul into their work#and make themselves vulnerable enough to share with the rest of the world#he doesn’t that all of the time man
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Bad Blood Short Series Preview
Ransom Drysdale x Reader (Dad!AU) Preview
Summary: Ransom Drysdale, a man who didn’t make wise decisions in his teens. Wasting three years of his life in jail, he takes his freedom for another two. Little did he know, a woman he long ago had a thing for, ends up leaving him with a 16-year-old for the holidays. Hazel Rose Drysdale. His daughter.
This takes place after Knives Out. Family will be mentioned, there will be minor spoilers for Knives Out.
Warnings: Bad parenting, swearing, Ransom being an asshole, minor spoilers for Knives Out, angst, mentions of murder/jail, minor mental abuse, mentions of abortion/pregnancy, Mentions of suicide
Release date is unknown, release is closer than you think
Large thank you for @just-one-ordinary-fangirl who was excited for this series and helped build a lot of parts for this story!
I do not consent to have my work hosted on any second party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.
You turn your gaze over to the TV but you didn’t pay mind to it. The sounds of your neighbors playing music or their dogs barking above you. Hazel closes her book and sighs softly. “Oh mom?” She asks, you turn to her, raising your brows up. “Hm?”
Her hand rests on the table as she turns her body towards you, “There’s this musical coming into Oakland in December and I was thinking we can get tickets? I don’t know if you’re familiar with Hamilton.” You tried not to give Hazel the look of ‘I’m sorry’, you just stared at her blankly, trying to sound less of a bad mother. Sure the tickets were a bit over 50 dollars. You couldn’t even nod as you sighed, “We’ll see, sweetheart.”
Hazel turns away and picks up her book to head over to her room and you tried not to think about Harlan.
Yes, he was familiar to you. A famous author who published hundreds of books based on mysteries and murder. You weren’t there when Harlan was killed. But you knew someone at work who actually wrote the report about him. Police finding out about not only his suicide but his oldest grandchild was in jail for murder and arson.
You didn’t know much but you’ve read the report so many times. Harlan was a good author and you were happy to see your daughter read a book from someone who was related to her. Hazel never knew much about her father’s side of the family. You tried your best to keep her silent about it and she never asked once.
You remembered you had things that could make her brighten up. You stood up from your spot and made your way into your bedroom. You walked over to your closet and turned on the light to look up. Seeing a dark box written ‘Books’ on the side, you reach up and slid it off the edge and into your arms. You placed it on your bed and reached in for the book collection with Harlan’s name printed on every book.
You opened one and saw a small message written in cursive with his name at the end. Harlan always gave you the first copy and made sure you gotten them. His books made it into films and he gave you the movies and that’s where these old films laid in. Hazel will like to watch these over and over. “Ro, baby,” You call out.
You hear her call back and made her search around the apartment and met you in the bedroom. You turned and sat on the edge of your bed. “You love books, right?” You asked. Hazel nods. You placed your hand on the edge of the box, “These are special and old. It might not sound real to you but these are all first copies.” Hazel makes her way over and slightly gasps.
“They’re... Harlan books?” She pulls them out and opens the first book, “And he signed them!” Hazel looks up to you with a smile. Shockingly, it made you smile, “I want you to take care of these really good for me, okay? You can take them to your room and read them.” Hazel slams herself into your chest and hugs you tightly.
“Thank you, mom.”
You wrap your arms around her and held her there, placing a kiss on her head. “I love you, too, sweetheart.” Hazel wasted no time into bringing the books into her room. Her eyes scanned every letter written in the books by the author, himself. He kept calling you, sweetheart. Hazel wondered if you knew him really well. You collected every book from him and they were all first copies. The films were never used and they were amazing. Hazel began to pull each of them out on her bed and reached for the last book that was wider than the others.
Hazel lifts it up and sees the cute designs.
Memories.
Hazel turns around to sit on her bed as her fingers graze over the small stickers that were worn out. She read your name on the front of the cover and flipped the page over. Photos of her grandparents, your mom and dad taking you out to the lake. A couple pictures of you reading books. Your 15th birthday photo was very old and you looked just like her. Hazel flipped the next pages and the photos gotten bigger. And the months grew further on.
Pictures of you in a dress. Your junior year in a blue silk dress, your hair was perfectly done with a bit of makeup. Hazel had not seen you so beautiful with makeup on. With a small grin, she flips the page and there’s a photo of you again at what looked like your prom dance. Her grin slowly freezes when she sees someone stand next to you with a small grin.
His hair was slick back, his tuxedo was a matching blue and his bow tie was black. His jaw was sharp enough to cut paper. Hazel knew you had her at the age of 16, the date takes back a few months before your birthday. Hazel had to think he was someone you were with. A picture of carved initials with a heart around them.
The ‘R’ was carved along with your initial and in between your initials was a plus sign. Hazel grew more into the photos and kept going over the pages. The next photos never had the boy in the photos any more. But you had your hands on your stomach with a grin. You had to be about one month pregnant. But the boy you had in the other photos never appeared in these.
Then you happened to be in Oregon. You said you were born in Oregon and lived there since you were born. Where were you before? Hazel flipped a couple more and her photos came into view. Her baby pictures were old and very nicely situated. Hazel grins softly at the photos and opened the last page to have things slip out.
Hazel catches the piece of paper and small patch from a high school logo. She looks over the patch that must’ve came from a private school. She flipped it over and read it.
Hugh D.
MA, Boston
Hazel furrowed her brows at the name. Hugh must’ve been a different boy you dated. She reaches for the paper that was partially ripped in half and placed the two together like a puzzle.
Ransom
(xxx) xxx - xxxx
She read the letter and saw the added heart to his name. Ransom. Who was Ransom and Hugh?
“Honey! Did you want to finish your show?” You called out to Hazel. The teenager puts the things back in the book and puts it back in the box. “Uh... Yeah! I’m coming!” And she covered it up with the others and made her way out of her room into the living room. Hazel couldn’t help but think about who her dad was.
If you want to see this series and had the following chapters. Don’t be afraid to ask for a tag in my asks.
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Could you do some Todoroki sickfic (emeto if you can) where he just kind of pushes through and tries not to let anyone know because he’s only ever been treated like he’s weak and useless when sick. And when the other students in the dorms find out they fuss over him and he doesn’t know how to take being taken care of like that. Also I just found your blog tonight and I love it!
I have discovered that writing Todoroki is exhausting and writing Midoriya is plain weird and doesn’t feel right, but I enjoyed writing this nonetheless. Emeto isn’t really my niche and I find writing it hella difficult, so here’s an attempt.
This is like vaguely 2nd/3rd year, Tododeku and Kiribaku are established, and even though it’s not mentioned Mineta has been kicked out. Content warnings include referenced canonical child abuse, emeto, implied panic attack, and vague discussion of trauma left by mentioned child abuse
Now on Ao3!
Enjoy!
He wakes up feeling… off. That’s the only way he can really put it – he’s not in pain, his head isn’t swirling with unpleasant thoughts, he’s not reeling from a nightmare, he doesn’t feel ill. Just off.
So he tries his best to shake it off.
By the time lunch rolls around, there’s a persistent hum in his head. It’s distracting, and leaves him just a touch woozy, but he’s worked through much, much worse. It’s no big deal. He’s lagging maybe half a second behind everybody else today, but no one has commented on it, or asked about it, so he assumes he’s doing a good enough job at hiding it.
By the time Kirishima ropes him into a video game tournament, Shouto feels like he’s going to puke. There’s a churning pit in his stomach that makes him regret eating lunch, makes him regret eating breakfast, makes him regret last night’s dinner. Definitely makes him regret waking up.
It’s a well-known fact that video games are the one thing he’s genuinely terrible at, and no amount of Kirishima trying to teach him has improved his skills, so no one questions it when he surrenders his controller to Shinsou after three consecutive losses.
The room gets loud as Jirou gives her controller to Kaminari, like it always does as soon as someone gets the insane idea to pit couples against each other. Shouto retreats to the far corner of the big couch, decides to tough it out for a game or two. Leaving immediately would look suspicious, and someone might notice, so he sits quietly with his knees pulled to his chest and hopes no one will look at him twice.
Bakugou is staring at him from the other end of the couch.
It’s fine, Shouto tells himself even as a cold wave of anxiety washes through him. Bakugou continues to stare, face completely blank, and Shouto knows this is the one person in the class who genuinely does not care, but there’s something unnerving about his eyes. Maybe it's just the hollow bruises under them – Shouto knows for a fact Bakugou didn't sleep last night, because he woke up to explosions sometime around three in the morning, and Kirishima has been hovering worriedly all day – but the blankness of his expression seems very deliberately arranged. Observant. Shouto swallows thickly and tries to find something else to look at.
The motion on the screen makes his nausea worse. The shouting of his classmates makes his headache worse. He can’t concentrate on his phone. Bakugou keeps staring at him.
Shouto finally excuses himself quietly when he’s fairly sure he’s about to start smoking soon, because he can feel his control of his powers slipping. It's fine. He can let that happen once nobody can see him.
They can't see him weak. They can’t. He knows it’s irrational, because these are his friends and they care about him and he cares about them, but the thought of it sends him into a spiral straight down to such a dark place he throws it away before he can do more than scratch its surface. So he escapes into the stairs, not wanting to stand in the elevator, he can’t be still right now, and tries to look as casual as he possibly can.
He doesn’t even make it to the second floor before he hears his name from behind him. His heart jumps to his throat and his stomach drops, and it takes him a second to sort out that it’s his last name and not his first, and there’s no threat, no anger, no fire in the voice. He can’t help but freeze on his tracks anyway.
“Hey, man, you okay?” Shouto comes face to face with wide red eyes as he turns around; feels he can’t breathe with the rush of relief when it’s not piercing turquoise that greets him. Some of it must show on his face, because Kirishima takes a step back immediately and raises his hands up, concern clear in his expression. Bakugou is standing a few paces behind him, leaning on the wall and staring at his phone. “Because you don’t look like you are.”
Shouto feels sick. He doesn’t want to be here, he wants to be in his room, alone, so that nobody can see him like this, so that he can take the time he needs to pull himself together. He swallows and takes a breath.
“I’m fine,” he manages. He thinks his voice is steady.
“You sure?” Kirishima looks suspicious. Shouto knows he means well, really, he does, he does, but he just… God, he can’t do this. Even thinking about admitting weakness, let alone showing it, sends alarm bells in his head ringing, makes him see the floor of his home through tears, has his father’s voice in his head yelling at him for being useless, and his scar burns all over again, scalding water running down his face and the tears in his mother’s eyes–
His breathing is picking up pace. He’s gonna start crying. He’s gonna be sick. He’s gonna have a panic attack. His body is hot and cold on the wrong sides. He’s gonna– he can’t– he doesn’t– he can’t–
“Todoroki, shit, Todoroki, hey, come on, sit down, okay?” Something touches his arms, but it doesn’t feel like human touch so it doesn’t make everything worse. By the time he realizes it’s Kirishima’s hands with his quirk activated Shouto has already catalogued the touch as non-threatening, so he lets Kirishima guide him to sit down and push his head between his knees.
It takes him too long to notice that there’s steam coming off his skin.
“That’s it, man, just listen to me and breathe. You want me to get Midoriya?”
That sends a new wave of conflicting feelings through him – yes, he wants Izuku, yes, please, Izuku is good, would be great right now, but Izuku would just worry and fuss and worry and Shouto doesn’t want to make Izuku worry, doesn’t want to bother him, and besides, isn’t Izuku out training with Uraraka? Or was it Tokoyami? Why can’t he remember? Uraraka and Tokoyami are two totally different people who hang out with totally different groups and have totally different quirks and Shouto can’t remember which one of them his goddamn boyfriend is training with– did Izuku even say? He can’t remember that either.
“N-no,” he forces out. Realizes he’s been gritting his teeth. “He’s, he’s training, don’t bother him, it’s–”
“Okay, no,” Kirishima interrupts him. “I asked if you want him here. It’s about you. You’re the one that’s not okay, yeah? So do you want him here?”
It… makes sense, what Kirishima is saying. But it doesn’t. It does; he feels terrible and he would like to have his boyfriend here, and it’s what other people do, too, even in their class. It doesn’t; things like this can’t be about him, he can’t want or need things, how horribly selfish would that be of him.
In the end, he nods. He has to force the motion, to force himself to allow it. He’s still got his head between his knees, but he swears he can almost feel the way Kirishima grins at his response despite not looking.
“You gonna be okay if I step into the hallway for just a sec?” Kirishima asks. He hasn’t stopped touching Shouto’s arms, and the touch is somewhat grounding. He still has to put conscious effort into breathing, and he’s just a tad afraid he’s going to lose the focus he needs to keep it up if Kirishima lets go and leaves him alone with Bakugou.
There’s a steady tapping sound, almost background noise but not quite; a persistent, consistent tapping, volume just enough to be clearly audible even without concentrating. Just a bit louder than a clock. Not as sharp. Shouto is not entirely sure how long it’s been there.
Without even meaning to, he starts counting it. Pacing his breath to it. It’s easy; almost natural. Maybe he’ll stay on track even if Kirishima steps off for a moment.
Tap, tap, tap, tap. Breathe in four, hold four, breathe out four. Every exhale feels like he’s going to throw up, but it’s almost a background thought. He makes an affirming noise to tell Kirishima that he probably won’t spiral down if he lets go, so Kirishima pats his shoulder and tells him that he’s okay.
He’s not okay, but he also doesn’t start panicking again. He risks a look around him to see Kirishima take two steps up and disappear into the second floor hallway, and notices something that damn near messes up his newly-found breathing rhythm all over again.
Bakugou is still standing several stairs below, leaning on the wall. He’s typing something on his phone, and he doesn’t look quite as murderous as he usually does – tired, still, but his frown is considerably less deep than usual. He’s probably texting Camie, then, since it’s likely not Kirishima.
But the thing that really catches Shouto off-guard is the fact that he’s steadily tapping his right foot on the stair he’s standing on.
The rhythm sounds very purposeful.
Shouto is not going to chase that thought.
He keeps breathing.
XxX
Izuku is going to apologize to Uraraka later. He doesn’t make it a habit to just ditch his friends, really, but Kirishima sounded worried over the phone and he has barely seen Shouto all day, so he takes off running the moment he hangs up, leaves most of his stuff behind along with Uraraka as he puts his quirk to work.
He dashes straight through the common room and into the staircase, and almost collides with Kacchan, who graces him with a glare and turns his attention back to his phone. Normally, Izuku would say something to him, even just a greeting, or an attempt at placating his temper, but before he can say anything he spots Shouto sitting a few stairs higher. Kirishima is sitting next to him, close but not touching.
“Shouto.” The name escapes from his lips in a whisper before he can even think it. Shouto’s head snaps up, and Izuku has to restrain himself from launching at him with One for All activated; Shouto’s face is pale, almost white, and the fleeting look of terror that flashes in his eyes before recognition makes something clench in Izuku’s chest. Shouto’s breathing is labored; controlled.
Kirishima moves away as Izuku hurries forward, knees hitting the stairs so he can get his hands to Shouto’s face. Faintly he registers Kacchan moving past them to join Kirishima, and the two continue their way up the stairs. He’ll thank Kirishima later.
“Hey,” he begins, thumb coming to trace the edge of Shouto’s scar. Shouto shivers. “Talk to me, what’s going on? Kirishima sounded worried so I came as fast as I could, I need to apologize to Uraraka about that later, it was kind of rude of me to leave her there like that but you’re not okay, are you? She’ll understand, she’ll probably bring my stuff back too, I should probably text her, though, just to let her know, I probably won’t be going back anyway…”
“You’re rambling,” Shouto says, voice faint but a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Izuku snaps his mouth shut and feels heat on his cheeks. Then Shouto shivers again, and Izuku manages to see him swallow thickly before he ducks his head back down. He frowns.
“Sorry,” Izuku offers. “But really, what’s going on? You don’t look good.” Shouto doesn’t feel good, either – his skin is clammy, and just by touching him Izuku can tell he’s not in full control of his quirk. There’s steam coming through his now-damp clothes.
Until now, Shouto has been somewhat curled into himself, hunched over and hugging himself. Now, though, his grip on his biceps tightens and and he curls up some more, like he’s trying to make himself smaller. It pains Izuku, how Shouto always seems to try and make himself disappear when he’s feeling bad.
One day, once he’s graduated and established himself as a reputable and reliable hero, he’s going to punch Endeavor as hard as he can, and then he’s going to bring flowers to Shouto’s mom.
“I’m not him,” Izuku reminds gently, still tracing the scar. “Nobody here is. It’s okay.” It breaks his heart to even have to say the words, but Shouto takes a shuddering breath and lets it out slowly, so at least it’s a useful reminder. Shouto tends to forget, sometimes. And sometimes Izuku tends to forget that it’s all too easy for Shouto to follow that train of thought. So they’re kind of even, however that balance works.
“I don’t feel good,” Shouto finally whispers. He sounds almost scared. Izuku is about to start prodding further, ready for a guessing game, when he sees that same swallow-shiver combination he saw earlier.
“You’re sick?”
A shrug. A still moment. A hesitant nod.
“Okay.”
It takes some convincing, and some coaxing, and some help, but Izuku manages to get Shouto up and into the hallway. His room is closer, as opposed to Shouto’s which is located in the fifth floor, so Shouto agrees to relocate there.
By the time they make it into the room, Shouto is shaking, and also swallowing repeatedly. He hasn’t stopped hugging himself and he’s still hunched over. Izuku keeps a steadying hand on his back, but he doubts it does much.
He leads Shouto straight into the bathroom with little resistance. Shouto sits down against a wall next to the toilet, draws his knees to his chest and rests his head on them. His breathing is picking up again, and Izuku doesn’t know whether it’s anxiety or nausea or both.
Minutes tick by as Izuku draws patterns on Shouto’s arm and shoulder and rubs his neck, and Shouto’s swallowing becomes convulsive and he keeps shaking. One particularly harsh shudder runs through him and causes a patch of frost to spread on the wall. His breathing is becoming shallow.
Izuku doesn’t know how much time has passed when something finally happens. One moment they’re leaning on the wall and the next, Shouto is scrambling to get the toilet lid open. A sick-sounding belch makes Izuku wince, and is immediately followed by a retch. Shouto clutches the rim with white knuckles, and Izuku moves to hold him.
Shouto shivers against him and heaves, but brings nothing up. Izuku wraps his arms around him for support, both emotional and physical, and gently shushes him at the probably involuntary whimper that follows. Presses a kiss to his shoulder.
“Just let it happen,” Izuku mutters. “You’re okay, just let it out.” It’s like being in a sauna, holding Shouto like this when he’s not in full control of his quirk, but Izuku brushes it aside – it doesn’t matter how uncomfortable it is. Shouto is definitely far more uncomfortable.
Shouto shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut, but the following attempt at a deeper breath is interrupted by a gag. Izuku resists the urge to sigh, and instead continues muttering reassurances as he rubs Shouto’s back. Keeping him grounded in the present is important; vital, almost, Izuku would say. He’s witnessed too many times how things like this – feeling bad, vulnerable, not in control – tend to throw Shouto right back to his childhood.
He’s not profusely apologizing and promising he’ll do better next time, so what Izuku is doing must be working.
It takes a couple more minutes of heaving and retching before Shouto brings up anything, but when he finally does, it’s like he can’t stop. Izuku very deliberately does not look, instead focusing on trying to calm Shouto down. He runs his fingers through Shouto’s hair, down his spine, and eventually brings one hand to rub his stomach. Shouto whimpers at the contact but doesn’t reject it.
Izuku loses track of time. Shouto keeps dry-heaving for a good while after it’s clear there’s nothing in him to throw up anymore, and he’s shaking like a leaf. Izuku can’t tell whether he’s feverish or not; one of the few drawbacks of his quirk – even medical professionals have hard time with that, since Shouto’s temperatures tend to go haywire when he’s not in full control, which is almost every time he’s not feeling well.
When even the dry-heaving eventually tapers off, Shouto slumps lifelessly against Izuku. His eyes slide shut and his breath slowly evens out, and the shaking dies down. An occasional shiver still runs through him, as if as a reminder, but otherwise every sign of what just happened melts into exhaustion.
They sit on the floor until Izuku decides a cold, hard bathroom floor is no place for anything. Shouto is not asleep, not quite, but he’s well on his way there, so Izuku nudges him alert from his exhausted not-quite-slumber gently.
“Shouto, hey,” he almost-whispers, smiling a little as Shouto’s eyelashes flutter against his skin. “How are you feeling? Any better?”
Shouto makes a sleepy noise that could mean literally anything, and it sounds absolutely adorable; there’s just not much Izuku can do with that. Shouto’s eyes open more, left one somewhat droopy, and he maneuvers himself so that his face is against Izuku’s shoulder. “I’m tired,” he replies. It’s not really what Izuku was looking for, as far as responses go, but it’s something.
“Then how about a bed? Some sleep?”
Shouto makes another sleepy noise, though this one sounds distinctly approving. He makes no attempt to move, however. Izuku lets him be for a moment.
“That means we have to get up, Shouto,” he tells him.
It takes some effort, but not as much as Izuku feared or suspected it would. He could technically just lift Shouto up – he’s strong enough to carry him and has done so in the past – but he doubts the swift change in position and altitude would be of any benefit. So he helps Shouto up from the floor slowly, makes sure he doesn’t go suddenly white again now that some color has returned to his face, and carefully walks them out of the bathroom. He gets Shouto a soft, oversized shirt to change into (it’s probably Shouto’s own shirt that’s been left in Izuku’s room at some point, actually). Manages to convince him to drink some water.
Shouto seems to fall asleep the moment Izuku lets him do so, looking completely drained. Izuku likes the sight of him surrounded the All Might themed bedsheets – it looks right, like he should be right there. Like he belongs in Izuku’s bed.
Izuku texts Uraraka and Kirishima, and picks up a book.
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Ice Log, Audio Journal-Pryce
Some of the audio log of Pryce’s experiments with the children and Ho-oh and Lugia to get an idea of what happened
TW: child abuse
Day xxx Age of children-14
I’ve brought the two newest to the remote location where I am housing the legendaries. Since keeping them in pokeballs has proved difficult. The hex upon them seems to weaken in the devices thus I’m forced to have them housed. Both children have proven a great deal of loyalty. I find it time they meet the legendary pokemon I have housed, perhaps gain even more of their respect through this.
Day xxx Age of children-14
I have come upon an.....interesting discovery, but I am not sure what to make of it. I find myself in a situation akin to a horror movie since bringing the children to this site. They have come to me five times today claiming to hear screaming from the barn, and question how no one hears it. They say it’s human like. The only alive thing there is the legendaries. It has been less than a day of being here, how could they know anything?
Day xxx Age of children-14
I’ve refused them access to the barn, and am trying to nail down the cause. The more I look into it the more maddening this is. Carl and Sham have failed to hear anything. Both Will and Karen have come independently of one another to tell me. It disrupts their training as they show deep signs of distress when hearing these supposed screams. I have also found it often correlates to when tests are done of the legendary pokemon, or I am renewing the hex over them to hold my bond to them. I will try wait a bit longer to document more.
Day xxx Age of children-14
I have found no other explanation. Something about these children and the legendaries is connected. I must introduce them.
Day xxx Age of children-14
I let the boy go first. With his psychic abilities if something were to go wrong then I suppose he would have a better chance at fighting off the legendary Lugia till I could regain control of the hex. At this that is what I figured. However I was shocked to find how little he struggled. With the tidal bell in hand, and silver wing the hex seemed to instinctively latch to him. There was only a minimal struggle from Lugia before the pokemon succumbed to his control. Naturally I was taken aback as it took an hour for the bond to attach with myself, but this child had no issues. We are now seeing how long he can hold it.
Day xxx Age of children-14
It was roughly hour 8 that the child was finally loosing control, and had to reinstate the hex over the pokemon. Again he took to it naturally though seemed distressed while doing it claiming he heard the pokemon screaming again. All we heard was the usual pokemon cries, but he claimed to hear words. Naturally I told him I had held the hex longer and he’d grow in time when in actuality it took quite some time to get to his level. Now to see what the girl can manage, and if he has any luck with Ho-oh.
Day xxx Age of children-14
Note to self. Do not mix their pokemon. The girl shows the same aptitude with Ho-oh. Naturally she had the rainbow wing and clear bell with her also. When trying to introduce the hex to the opposing pokemon immediate chaos broke out. They seem to excel with one certain pokemon, and if trying to attach to the other the hex rejects them out right. Won’t be making that mistake again.
Day xxx Age of children-16
Tests with the children and their respective pokemon continues. They’ve grown exceptionally over the years with control of their respective pokemon. Not only can they control them outside an enclosed environment, but have intense battles with relitive ease in control. Rocket remains none the wiser.
Day xxx Age of children-17
I had hoped we’d find something by now. Some tangible explanation, but there’s nothing. We’ve preformed countless medical tests by now, x-rays, collected samples, the whole nine yards which I have kept careful documentation of. Hell we’ve even tried dental studies to see if there’s something, but nothing. No shred of explanation as to what is giving these children such careful control of legendaries. Their bond with the pokemon grows too. I worry they could revolt if I am not careful.
Day xxx Age of children-17
I originally thought it possible the boy’s psychic abilities had to do with his link to Lugia though that never explained why the girl failed to show any results to having say pyrotechnic abilities. I’m beginning to think the psychic abilities he has are wholly separate from the connection to Lugia. Despite this gap the girl has seemed to keep up in fighting abilities, impressively so. However that also drew me to question if there was a separation between the legendary connection and their strengths. The true kicker was what the girl said to me an hour ago. I was in my study and she knocked on the door coming in with some tea saying I could use some. Granted I have been stressed with the recent failure of Carl and Sham’s last mission, but I had not left my office nor did she know about this as they had called me directly. I asked her how she knew I was stressed, and she seemed equally curious on how she reached that conclusion before shrugging and claiming she simply,’felt it from me, and Will told her I likely wanted tea.’ I hadn’t thought about it before, but both her and the boy seem to do that often. She always seems to know how people feel, and he always seems to know what people want. I had taught them that as good manipulation tactics, but....they understood it so quickly, as if they already knew each time. If Lugia is the guardian of souls, and Ho-oh of hearts...I wonder....could that be translated to desires, and feelings?
Day xxx Age of children-17
I am more convinced of my heart and soul theory having tested them more and more. I wonder....how alike are they to the legendaries, what powers can they access?
Day xxx Age of children-18
I have begun to research into the tower burning. Where the beasts were resurrected. Medically we have still found nothing, and the children grow more apprehensive of these lab visits while I grow tired of them. I truly think now I maybe onto something in researching these legends. Ho-oh is capable of rebirth, correct? The only thing stopping me from bringing back my pokemon’s parents is Ho-oh’s cooperation in reviving them. That’s how I view it at least. Now to find out how it happened once to make it happen again.
Day xxx Age of children-18
It seems I am not the first to have this idea, and I praise my luck I am not. The ruins of Alph speak about the power in Ho-oh’s resurrection bringing up the cycle of life. Apparently there are ties to pokemon in Kalos as well, but Ho-oh is the beginning of this process the rebirth of life. So with those pokemon far past the final step it is time for rebirth.
Day xxx Age of children-19
I have it ready finally. The ritual is set, and the girl understands her job. After tomorrow I’ll have peace again.
Day xxx Age of children-19
Perhaps I should of done more research into those Kalos pokemon. The ritual, as the listener to this, if anyone listens to this besides myself can safely assume it failed. I followed everything to the T, and I do think it went properly. At least somewhat. The girl entered a trance of sorts after seeming to fall unconscious. She was misty eyed, literally, and to be blunt I feared dead by how lifeless her body looked. However the carvings I made continued to glow, and Ho-oh continued to glow giving off an aura. Then cuts appeared on the girl, claw marks, gashes, simply various wounds. Everything seemed to cut out suddenly as she snapped to shaking and crying hardly noticing her injuries as she clutched herself. She spoke gibberish for a bit before calming enough to explain what happened. Apparently she entered some dark space with nothing around, but a door in the far distance, and Ho-oh desperately trying to pull away from it. The closer she got to it, and pushed the bird two voices told her to stop, that the living weren’t allowed there, it was too late the souls have moved on. Then they attacked. She doesn’t recall what attacked her exactly as they felt like shadows, but there was talons, hooves, a beak, and horns all taking blows at her till she couldn’t fight anymore. I noticed then Ho-oh was wounded too. For now healing. I will try again another time, she promises she can get to the door next time for me.
Day xxx Age of children-19
I have tried multiple times with the girl now. Each time she only comes back more injured, and shaken. I have continued research on the ritual since. I will integrate the boy with her this next time. Perhaps the two of them can finally reach some silly door.
Day xxx Age of children-19
Still nothing. Medical results yield again, nothing. There is something to this that is past our current understanding of science. The children grow no closer to this supposed door even together, and are continuously told by what I can only assume to be xerneas and yveltal that the souls of my pokemon’s parents are too far gone. They’ve already moved past. As infuriating as this is I have found a possible solution to my strife in my detailed research of legendary pokemon of this region. If I can not raise them from the dead which apparently requires some machine in Kalos, or give them the rebirth of new life as was done with the beasts then I will try something simpler, time travel.
#tw: child abuse#(home boy like: yeah time travel seems easier than raising the dead and weirdly he was right?)#headcannons#audio log
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Numb To The Feeling: A Klaus Mikaelson Imagine
Request from Anon: this is kind of a request but also sort of not... if you could do something inspired by/following the song “numb to the feeling” by chase atlantic that would be amazing! i personally think it’s a really good song for any of the mikaelsons but i just don’t have the motivation to write something for it myself. xxx thanks love! hope your day is well!
Hope this is okay for you lovely, and enjoy x
Want to hear the song? Find a link to it just below:
Numb To The Feeling
Heard you got a heart, let me see
I need you to split that thing with me
At this present moment in time, Y/N Y//L/N was struggling to see how Klaus Mikaelson could possibly be capable of loving anything. Then again, she didn’t exactly know what she had expected.
It’s not like she had never seen him kill someone before, never seen the blood coating his hands like a second skin, watching as he licked it off his hands, enjoying every moment as each drop sent a thrill through his taste buds. But it was the first time she had seen him do so since she realised she was in love with him.
He’d made her one of his a long time ago, using her as nothing more than his own personal slave for his own personal gain. Over the years, her hatred for the hybrid growing, she had contemplated turning off her humanity more than once, hating what he had made her, hating that she was now feeding on those whom she had once considered peers, hating that he found it amusing, telling her to lighten up and enjoy immortality.
But it was her friendship with his younger sister, with Rebekah Mikaelson that had swayed her. It was her friendship with Rebekah, the talks that they had shared, that made her realise that the adrenaline she felt when she was around Klaus, the thumping in her chest, wasn’t anger nor the desire to fight him.
It was love. Uncontrollable, unpredictable, impossible love.
For how could she possibly give into her feelings for him when he was the monster that she had spent years studying, the monster that cared about nothing than that that benefitted him?
Heard you're skipping meals, losing sleep
Well, I've been doing the same honestly
At this present moment in time, Klaus Mikaelson was struggling to see why Y/N Y/L/N looked at him like she did. Then again, he didn’t exactly know what he had expected.
It’s not like he had expected her to embrace vampirism with open arms, wanting to give into the urges that accompanied the disease that was so easy to spread, the one that he had wanted to give her from the moment he had seen her. But it was the first time he had seen her refuse him when he offered her the food that she often desired with an urgent haste.
He’d made her one of his a long time ago, only because he had fallen for her in an instant. He had wanted to give her immortality, wanted her to be by his side for as long as they both lived. Over the years, he had noticed her hatred for him growing, learning from Rebekah that she had considered turning off her humanity more than once, a stabbing pain in his chest never quite dulling when he realised that where he loved her, she wanted nothing more than to see him dead.
Yes, he loved her. Uncontrollably, unpredictably, impossibly.
For how could he possibly give into his feelings for her when he was the monster that she had spent years studying, the monster that she hated with every fibre of her being?
Well, I look like a fucking walking corpse, girl
Say the words, "R.I.P." 'cause
Over the week, Y/N noticed that Klaus was behaving less and less like the psychopathic hybrid she had come to know and love. He looked tired, and as much as she wanted to ask what was wrong, she couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling in the back of her mind that he would kill her on the spot, having become familiar with the idea that she was nothing more than an object to him.
So, she did as she was told, hating that she was fighting her urges to help, hating that she was in love with him of all people. Why couldn’t it be someone normal for once? Why did it have to be the most dangerous creature of all time?
And so she stayed with her mouth shut, knowing the damage that words could do, knowing that they had the potential to put her in the ground for eternity. She loved him by herself, loved him in her dreams, in the silence of the night when she knew he couldn’t read her thoughts, knew he couldn’t laugh at her out of pity and amusement at her humiliation.
My tolerance is going up
And I'm getting numb to the feeling, yeah
Over the weeks, Klaus noticed that Y/N was quieter than usual. She avoided his eyes, her usual tenacity gone; she no longer spoke back to him like the girl he had come to know and love. She looked tired, and as much as he wanted to ask what was wrong, he couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that she would start thinking he wanted something, that this was just a ploy to get her to do something for him, having become familiar with the idea that he was nothing more than an employer to her.
So, he carried acting like a tired psychopath, hating that he was fighting his urges to help, hating that he was in love with her of all people. Why couldn’t he be someone normal for once? Why did he have to be the most dangerous creature of all time?
And so he stayed with his mouth shut, knowing the damage words could do, knowing that they had the potential to lead to his downfall. He loved her by himself, loved her in his dreams, in the silence of the night when he knew she couldn’t read his thoughts, knew she couldn’t laugh at him out of pity and amusement as his humiliation.
And I've been abusing drugs
I'm getting numb to the feeling, yeah
It was surprisingly easy to become immune to unrequited love, as Y/N soon found out. All she had to do was bury herself into her vampirism, into her parasitic urges to kill and feed. Soon enough, she reminded herself of the man she loved, of Klaus Mikaelson and the horror stories that were his history. She found herself laughing, finally understanding why she thought he had turned her.
Finally getting what she thought she had been missing.
She could pass him now without wanting him to push her against the wall, for his lips to clash against hers, for his hands to wander. She could speak to him without straining her voice, without pain cutting her to the core when he looked at her with cold eyes.
Abusing her supernatural side made it better. It made her forget how she felt.
It made her forget that she was destined to be with Klaus Mikaelson, whether she liked it or not.
I need you to show me love
'Cause I'm getting numb to the feeling, yeah
I'm getting numb to the feeling
It was surprisingly difficult to become immune to unrequited love, as Klaus soon found out. He couldn’t bury himself into his vampirism, into his parasitic urges to kill and feed. Soon enough, he reminded himself of the woman he loved, of Y/N Y/L/N and the gentle nature that were her history. He found himself dejected, finally understanding why he thought she hated him.
Finally understanding what he thought he had been missing.
He couldn’t pass her without wanting to push her against the wall, his lips clashing against hers, his hands wandering. He couldn’t speak to her without straining his voice, without pain cutting him to the core when she looked at him with cold eyes.
Abusing his supernatural side made it worse. He couldn’t forget how he felt.
He couldn’t forget that he was destined to be with Y/N Y/L/N, whether he liked it or not.
Masterlist
#the vampire diaries#TVD#tvd imagine#tvd imagines#the originals#to#the originals imagines#the originals imagine#klaus mikaelson#niklaus mikaelson#klaus mikaelson imagine#niklaus mikaelson imagines#klaus mikaelson imagines#niklaus mikaelson imagine#klaus mikaelson x reader#niklaus mikaelson x reader#Joseph Morgan
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Gateway Drug | Part Thirty-Nine
Table of Content or Part Thirty-Eight
Read here on wattpad
Word count: 4K
Warning(s): Explicit language, Drug abuse
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PMRC DEMANDS CENSORSHIP, DEVELOPES A LIST OF THE "FILTHY 15."
1. Prince, "Darling Nikki", flagged for sex/masturbation
2. Sheena Easton, "Sugar Walls", flagged for sex
3. Judas Priest, "Eat Me Alive", flagged for Sex/Violence
4. Vanity, "Strap On Robbie Baby", flagged for sex
5. Mötley Crüe, "Bastard", flagged for violence/language
6. AC/DC, "Let Me Put My Love Into You", flagged for sex
7. Twisted Sister, "We're Not Gonna Take It", flagged for violence
8. Madonna, "Dress You Up", flagged for sex
9. W.A.S.P., "Animal (Fuck Like a Beast)", flagged for sex/language/violence
10. Def Leppard, "High 'n' Dry (Saturday Night)", flagged for drug/alcohol use
11. Mercyful Fate, "Into the Coven", flagged for occult themes
12. Black Sabbath, "Trashed", flagged for drug/alcohol use
13. Mary Jane Girls, "In My House", flagged for sex
14. Venom, "Possessed", flagged for occult themes
15. Cyndi Lauper, "She Bop", flagged for sex/masturbation
Tipper freaking Gore, the wife of the senator at the time, Al Gore, and bunch of other political housewives got their panties in a twist in 1985 and decided to demand artists either censor themselves when creating music, leaving no room for even the slightest hint at sex, drugs, alcohol, satanism, occultism, violence, language, or anything else almost every artist uses one of to express themselves in their music.
When musicians across the board practically told Tipper, the other wives, and everyone else that called themselves a member of the Parents Music Resource Center, to go fuck themselves, they decided to slap censorship stickers on records that contained any of the mentioned offenses.
Even John Denver got hit with censorship for his song "Rocky Mountain High."
It didn't shock me when my mother was photographed with Tipper after attending one of the hearings.
Mötley was invited to a hearing to defend their content and speak their opinions with a handful of others being censored, but they never batted an eye when the news first came out because they knew having an "X" or "XX" or "XXX" rating for violence, language, sex, drugs, alcohol, etc. would only make kids buy the record more. And it did.
"It's bullshit." I state, tossing the news paper article aside.
"It's politics." Fred replies taking a bite of his bagel.
"These womens' sex lives must be atrocious or else they'd be spending more time on their husbands' dicks and less time on these people's." I motion to the article with the list on it.
"Babe--"
"If these polotical lunatics spent as much energy taking care of their own damn kids, as they're spending attempting to villainize artists who're expressing themselves, they would realize that it's not Mötley Crüe's or anyone else's job to raise their children. If you're so scared of your kids trying all this stuff, have a conversation with them about it and tell them about it, honestly, instead of relying on the music they listen to, to properly teach them about it. And at the end of the day, they're gonna buy the record whether their parents want them to or not, and they're going to try all kinds of stuff, no matter who talks to them about it, if they really want to try it." I continue my rant, Fred, Doc, Nikki, Vince, Tommy and Mick all looking at me, waiting for me to be done.
"Are you done, Sister Christian?" Vince asks me and I glare at him.
"Viv, it's publicity. Who gives a fuck?" Nikki asks me. "The kids are gonna go for the nastiest rated album anyway. The more 'X's the better."
"Yeah, but the audacity of--" Tommy's teaching his hand around my shoulder and covering my mouth before I can continue and I look at him where he's beside me.
"I've got a headache. I'm hungover, Viv. I love you, but I don't need to hear a Vivian Bitch Fit right now." Tommy explains to me.
I just look at him like he's lost his mind for shutting me up, and he cautiously moves his hand away.
I give him a ten second reprieve before shouting, at the top of my lungs:
"The audacity of these people pisses me off!" I finish what I was going to say and Tommy and Nikki are both jumping out of their seats a little at the sudden shouting, covering their ears, wincing, before Nikki's looking at me, sharply.
I roll my eyes at him and he grabs roughly at my thigh under the table, uncomfortably sinking the tips of his fingers into my flesh.
Ignoring him, I take a sip of my coffee, as he glances around and stands up.
"I gotta piss." He tells us, but I know why he's going to the bathroom.
I wait for him to disappear past the "Men's Room" sign in the Denny's before I get up and follow after him.
I walk in, catching the tail end of him snorting a line, and I cross my arms, waiting outside of the stall he's in.
I hear the familiar "click" of a needle being uncapped.
"Nikki. It's 10:00 in the morning." I tell him.
"Fuck off."
"Nikki."
"Fuck off."
"Nikk--"
"Fuck off."
"Make me."
I wait for him to come out of the stall and do what I dared him to, but I just hear the sound of him sighing out in relief as opiate hits his system, drowning out whatever argument we were about to get into.
When he didn't want to hear me complain or try to talk him out of stuff, he would run to his favorite room in his mind: his heroin den.
If we were at home, he'd lock himself in the closet, with me begging him to come out.
He'd open the door for me right before passing out so he could at least say he tried.
If we were in public or at a hotel, he'd lock himself in the bathroom and do the same thing.
The sound of vomit smattering the floor has me wincing as he mumbles "fuck it" and opens the stall door, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Don't fuckin' give me that hit dog look." He tells me, moving past me to the sink, splashing some water on his face, smearing his already smeared eyeliner that makes him look like a raccoon that's been digging around in a dumpster.
"I'm not giving you any kind of look." I mumble, forcing him to look at me as I wet a paper towel and wipe his black-coated eyelids clean.
The smell of his vomit infiltrates my nostrils and I throw the paper towel away before pulling at his wrist to leave.
Being that he's perfected his magical potion, he isn't too jittery from the coke or nodding off from the heroin.
He's just quiet.
We leave Denny's and head straight to the airport to head back home, being they wrapped up the last show of the U.S. tour last night.
Next is Europe.
Once we land in L.A., Christmas music blares through the speakers of the airport and reminds me that it's already nearing the end of December.
Apparently Vince is reading my mind because he mumbles, "apparently time flies when you're in hell."
Amen, Vince. A-fucking-men.
The second Nikki and I get into the limo to take us to our house, he's busting out a vile of blow that's nearly empty.
"Fuck, I gotta get Jason over, asap." He tells himself and I rub my lips together.
"You know, we haven't even bought a Christmas tree since we've been married." I tell him, trying to distract myself from his previous comment.
"Yeah." He says, basically blowing me off and I reach the toe of my sneaker out and nudge him on the kneecap as he gets the tip of our house key and scoops some from the bindle, snorting a bump.
"Babe." I continue to tap his kneecap until he's got his hand around my ankle, loosely, stopping me.
"What, Viv?"
"What did I just say?" I ask him, crossing my arms.
He just blinks at me, smirking a little.
"I'll gladly tell you when I finish this." He holds the bindle up.
I lean forward and take it from him, holding it hostage when he attempts to take it.
"You'll get it back when I get a Christmas tree." I tell him, raising my brows.
"Are you fucking me right now?" He asks, chuckling, not thinking I'm serious.
"No...but now that you mention it, I want that, too. Then you can get it back." I add and he smirks.
By the time we get to a department store, get my clothes back on and his pants zipped back up, grab an artificial tree, lights and ornaments, and finally get to the house, it's nearly one in the morning.
"Okay, Saint Vivian, gimme my shit back." Nikki states, carrying the boxed up tree while I carry the bags of lights and ornaments.
"Put the tree up so I can decorate it and I will." I reply.
"That wasn't apart of the deal." He argues, his tone still light.
"Well now it is." I reply.
"That's cheating."
"I made the deal. I make the rules." I shrug.
"You're making me work for something that's already mine." His free hand pulls at my waist, turning me to him and I grin mischievously as he shakes his head a little. "That's it, Sixx." He tells me before crouching enough to wrap his arm around my thighs and throw me over his shoulder.
I laugh manically, partially out of fear that he'll drop me, but also because this is the Nikki I fell in love with.
Playful, lighthearted, aggravating but meaning well, Nikki.
He manages to dig his house key out again and unlock the door before stepping in and turning on the lights in the foyer.
"Baby, put the bags down for now." He tells me and I drop them as carefully as I can while he puts the box the tree is in, down.
He's walking us to the living room, laughing when he pretends to trip and I gasp, digging my nails into him like a cat holding onto its owner to avoid a bathtub full of water.
When he flips the next light on, he stops immediately.
My mind is in shambles for a moment as I try to put together why so many people are in my house once Nikki's nearly dropping me out of shock, not even hearing them all scream out, "surprise!"
Steven and Tansy are at the forefront of people as the explosion of glitter, a mixture of neon and pastel decor, an abundance of various alcohol options, scantily clad women, a handful of Nikki's friends he hangs out with outside of Mötley Crüe, and a big ass, two-tier cake with every curse word known to man written in pristine is cursive font on the sides of it is soaked in by mine and Nikki's eyes.
Steven's wearing a beer hat, smiling widely, while Tansy looks like a sallow Barbie doll, but she's still forcing out a grin for the sake of us, and everyone's waiting for mine and Nikki's reactions.
Nikki and I exchange looks, confused as ever.
"Why is it a surprise?" I finally ask, deciding it's best if I ask instead of Nikki, because all he wanted to do was come in, shoot up, have a few lines, fuck around with me some more, and pass out.
But instead he's being forced to socialize in his own house.
His safe place has been infested.
Steven and Tansy seem horrified that we don't understand the reason for the apparent party.
"...Because it's your birthday?" Tansy reminds me.
"And Nikki's was a couple weeks ago, but he wasn't here to celebrate it." Steven adds, his smile is long gone, his eyes focused on Nikki who looks like he could kill someone right now.
"Oh, right!" I pretend that I know that it's my birthday today, and everyone seems to let out a breath of relief. "It's been a long day." I explain, stepping to the two blondes, hugging them both tightly. "Thank you so much."
While everyone else starts going on with the party, music starting to blare throughout the house on the stereo speakers, cracking open beer, whiskey, and vodka, as girls strip down to bikinis to go swimming, Nikki's still standing at the door, the look on his face is a mixture or pissed off, disappointed, and "I need another dose."
"Babe." I say gently to grab his attention, hazel eyes looking to me as a jaw tightens. "C'mon, just for a couple hours."
"I'll be right back." He tells me, shoving through people to get to our bedroom.
I brush off his attitude the second I feel hands on my shoulders, squeezing them a little and I snap around to meet Duff's chest.
"Hey, birthday girl." He greets me cooly, and I'm hugging him before I can stop myself.
Something wet falls on my hand when I pull away, and just as I'm about to look around for whatever it was, his fingers that are sticking out of leather gloves that just cover his palms, are brushing at my face.
"What's up?" He asks me, furrowing his brows a little.
What is up? Why the hell are you crying?
"I-I'm happy." Is all I can say, chuckling, wiping more tears.
He knew it was bullshit. I was happy, sure. Happy to get the fuck off the road. Happy to get a break from Nikki and Tommy harassing Vince. Happy to get away from Doc's constant pressing for more tour dates to milk as much money as possible. Happy to be able to hangout with balls of optimism and sunshine like Duff and Steven and have Slash show me his pet snakes like he'd been meaning to, and for Izzy to tell me what music I should have been listening to, and for Axl to go on and on about Tansy but then completely deny he was interested in her because he was too much of a dork to just ask her out.
"I'll be right back, alright?" I tell Duff, looking around to see Nikki's nowhere to be seen.
"Okay." He tells me, swigging from a bottle of vodka.
I thread through people who tell me "happy birthday" and I thank each of them, genuinely, before opening up the bedroom door, and shutting it behind me, stepping to our bathroom.
"Baby?" I ask, seeing Nikki standing at the mirror, teasing his hair some more. "I had no idea they would do this." I tell him.
"I had no fucking idea it was even your birthday, apparently." He grumbles. "Shows how much I care, right? Husband of the year. Something else to be hung over my head anytime we get into a fight."
"Hey, I didn't even know it was my birthday. The guys didn't either. You've all been busy and working hard and tired. I'm not going to hold this over you, Nikki." I assure him, fixing a piece of his hair for him.
I didn't realize his pride was so hurt by the gesture Steven and Tansy made.
I found out later it was Duff who brought up the idea to Tansy, who recruited the Ken to her Barbie: Steven, to help her orchestrate it.
That was another indication to Nikki that he needed to slow down, forgetting his own wife's birthday, but he didn't listen to it a bit.
"I really don't want to do this shit, Vivian." He tells me, rubbing his eyes.
"And I do?"
"They're your friends." He sighs.
"What's mine is your's." I say as I kiss his cheek and he groans.
"You owe me." He tells me as I step out of the bathroom. "Matter of fact, I want my coke back."
"Um, I can't hear you, babe. I'm sure I will when these people leave." I tell him.
"Viv--"
"I-I think you're breaking up, I'll talk to you later." I keep going, walking to the bedroom door.
"I'll break something up when these people get the fuck outta my house!" He calls back and I shut the door behind me.
The night goes on as people play beer pong on the dining room table, dance on whatever and whoever they can, snort lines off any flat surface available, and chug whatever is in their cups, drowning pain and becoming oblivious.
I hate to break it to Nikki, but I don't want these people driving in their condition, so they'll have to stay here tonight or call cabs.
After a few hours, people are either pairing off or grouping off to go get laid, passed out, or too high to function properly and are just chilling out.
Steven's observing his work, drinking from his beer cans perched in his hat when I approach him, looking for Duff.
"Have you seen Duff?" I say over the music and he nods.
"Yeah, I think he's by the pool." He tells me.
"The pool?"
"Yep."
I furrow my brows, stepping to the French doors leading outside, seeing Duff and Tansy sitting down on the pool deck, talking
"Is he pissed?" She asks me, referring to Nikki, after I sit next to her.
"I would say go see for yourself but I don't want to toss you into the lion's den." I admit. "He hasn't come out all night."
"I'll go talk to him." She says. "If he's mean to me I'll just cry and make him feel bad like I do to Vince."
Duff and I exchange looks at her confident words before she's walking away in her neon pink bikini.
"Everyone calming down?" Duff asks in a slur, and I nod, glancing through the doors to look at the guests for a few seconds. "How does it feel to be twenty-two?" He adds, rubbing his nose and I raise my brows a little, glancing at the bottle of vodka he's been working on all night.
"It's weird." I mumble. "I was a senior in high school five years ago." The reality hits me and he raises his brows. "God, I'm old."
"You were seventeen your senior year?"
"In pre-k my teacher decided I was too smart for the class and vouched for me to be moved up to kindergarten, and it didn't take my kindergarten teacher long to convince the principle of the elementary school to let me start in the first grade since they hadn't really started in on their curriculum for the year." I explain.
"I couldn't even meet the basic requirements of alternative school." He tells me.
"You're a freaking genius, you just didn't apply yourself." I tell him and he shrugs.
"I had more important things to get done.
"I guess you did." I agree, gently scoring the bottle of alcohol away from him.
"I know you're tired of me saying this, but, Viv, you gotta get back to dancing."
"Yeah?" I ask.
"Yeah. I mean, imagine me giving up music for someone I'm in a relationship with so I can hold their hand or fucking babysit them or whatever. I mean, sure it shows I love them a lot, but it would just make who ever I was with look like a fucking bitch. And I've talked to Nikki before and he told me he didn't want you to quit dance and he wanted you to go to school." He explains. "Why didn't you?"
"I had more important things to get done." I repeat him.
"I don't know if you're selfless sometimes, or just not thinking." He says, before his face suddenly falls. "I sound like an asshole right now, I'm sorry." He apologizes and I shake my head.
"I'm not upset, I know what you mean." I assure him.
"Okay." He rubs his eyes again like a sleepy child.
"Do you need me to help you to bed?" I offer and he waves his hand at me a couple times.
"No, no, I got it." He assures me, standing up.
He nearly falls over.
"Yeah, I'm sure you do." I comment, helping him inside as he apologizes.
"I'm sorry I'm being out of hand right now, Viv, I don't get like this every night." He tells me as I open our guest bedroom and thank God nobody's in here, although it's obvious someone has been screwed to oblivion on the bed.
I just throw the blanket on the edge of the bed over the mattress and help him lay down.
"Thank you." He says as I pull his boots off and set them nice and neat on the floor at the foot of his bed.
"You're welcome." I reply, setting the garbage can beside him incase he needs it. "Goodnight."
I'm about to leave, but his hand gently grasps at my hand, stopping me.
"What is it?" I ask him.
"I'm really glad we met and we're friends, Viv." He tells me, grasping my hand in his like I'm going to walk out anyway and not listen to what he's got to say.
"I am, too, Duff." I say back, smiling a little. "Sleep tight, okay?"
"Yeah." He nods his head.
"Alright, goodnight."
I go to kiss him "goodnight" on the cheek, but my entire system and body locks up the second he misreads my intentions, and kisses me.
This sounds so counteractive to who I am now and what I stand for currently, and it was ignorant of me to think such a way back then, when so many people close to me were heavily affected, some of them even dying, by drugs and alcohol...but I use to wish I liked alcohol or drugs, or even felt drawn to them.
By '87 I'd had several miscarriages, my marriage was hanging by a thread after only being married for four years, I was having an identity crisis and my entire world was seeming to fall apart and it became routine to buy a bottle of vodka or whiskey, or pills, or blow and just stare at it--trying to convince myself to go for it--for an hour before pouring it out or flushing it.
The people around me, which by that point was mainly Duff and his band, started to pick up on this struggle I had. And although they knew I had to be in some kind of extreme pain to be considering reaching such lows, they carried an "if you don't laugh about it, you'll cry" method of pulling me out of such spells.
Anytime we would be hanging out and I'd opt to try something they were doing, they would call it the "Golden Question Game" because the "Golden Question" was always "is Vivian actually gonna do it this time?" and they wouldn't argue with me about it or try to stop me because they knew the answer would always be "no" even if I didn't think it would be.
I even made the reckless suggestion to try heroin, and got as far as Izzy getting it in the syringe for me, trying to explain to me how to shoot it, how to angle it, how to know I'd hit a vein, with Steven, Slash and Duff all waiting to see if I was that desperate for an escape.
Like everything else I would think about doing, I just sat on the floor next to Izzy and stared at the golden liquid in the syringe and thought, "who the fuck are you to get pissed and angry at Nikki and Tansy for their addiction to this shit, and how it's destroying them, and then turn around and do it yourself?"
I shot it into the air away from me, handed the empty syringe back Izzy, thanked him for letting me waste his time and dose of smack, went to the bathroom with Duff at my heels, and cried.
I never went through with any of it because I knew I would never, ever, come back from it.
I would've drank myself to death or drugged myself past the point of no return and would have ended up a statistic.
I just needed a new escape because my original high became a heroin addict, and December 23, 1985, had me realizing more about Duff than what I had noticed before: Vodka was a hell of a lot easier to be around than heroin.
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"It's Time For Her To Pay!"
Tuesday 26th January 2021
Hello again everyone! Hope you're all doing well! Monday's episode ended on such a huge cliff-hanger, I'm really looking forward to seeing what happens next! Do you think we'll end up seeing more of Jed? Will he become more involved in this current storyline between Frankie, Katy and The Carter's?! It'll be interesting to hear his story, we know that he's also been sexually abused by Katy and it was revealed that he was little Harry's Father. I'm hoping EastEnders will explore his story also, but we shall have to wait and see!
Covering this episode, the first thing I want to mention is Gray, Karen and Whitney. Since Chantelle's death, Karen has been an absolute saint caring and looking after her Grandchildren, sharing stories about their Mother when she was their age, treating to lovely meals and days out. However, regardless of her ongoing kindness, it looks as if Gray is getting more and more irritated with her, it seems that from his point of view that she's simply interfering with his children's lives. Karen had gone out of her way to buy some food for the children and treat them to their favourite dinner. As she excitedly informs Gray about her plans for Mack and Mia, you can see that Gray isn't best pleased about his Mother-In-Law's idea of a balanced meal. Interestingly, Gray appears to watch Whitney from across the Square as she fools about with Kush, as he approaches her you can see he has some kind of plan working away in his brain. In an attempt to stop Karen interfering with his children, he takes it upon himself to hire Whitney as a type of Nanny I guess, who will do the cooking and cleaning for them, doing the school run etc. Karen seems a little taken back by this but Gray reassures her that it'll leave her to do more fun activities with the children, taking them to the cinema or park. Karen agrees to Gray's decision but I feel that you can see deep down that she's slightly disappointed. The only thing I want to ask is, will Gray stick to his promise? Will he still allow her to see her Grandchildren?! I'd hate for Karen to be Gray's next victim, lets just hope that in time Gray's mask will slide and everyone will know about Chantelle and Tina!
The second thing I want to mention is Kathy. Being a Mother, it's only understandable why she's concerned for Ian. Not hearing from him for the past 2 days and the fact no one has any idea where he's disappeared to, he has simply upped and vanished. For a second time she confronts Sharon, convinced that she knows more than she's letting on. As Kathy goes to speak to Sharon, Peter voices that he's not the slightest bit worried about his Dad. His whole persona is "He doesn't care about us, why should we care about him?!". Regardless of his brother's attitude, Bobby does also seemed concerned for his Dad, acknowledging that has been missing for 2 days and no one knows where he is! He hasn't been in touch with anyone. Eventually when Kathy catches up with Sharon, she claims that Sharon knows where Ian has gone. I mean to be, she doesn't know where he's disappeared to, but the only information she does give Kathy is that they had a row and he simply took off. It's then that Kathy makes the very valid point that Ian hasn't taken any money with him and he only left with the clothes that he was wearing. Suddenly as soon as Kathy mentions contacting the police, Sharon attempts to reassure Kathy that Ian will be fine wherever he his, but then Bobby appears announcing he's already reported his Father as missing and the police are waiting for them to go the station to give a statement. Is Sharon's secret about to come to light?!
Thirdly, tensions are visibly rising between Honey and Jay! As they're sat with Janet as she makes celebratory cards for Ben and Callum for Ben's upcoming proposal, it's clear that Honey and Jay can't keep their eyes off of each other. They agreed that they want to give their relationship a go, but trying to be subtle about it is pretty difficult. As they reach out to take a hold of each other's hands, both Billy and Lola burst into the room, causing them to stop in their actions. However, it looks like Lola has an idea as what was about to happen, she glares at them with evil eyes as Billy interreacts with his daughter. Later on in the Vic, whilst Honey and Jay are alone enjoying a drink, Lola approaches them informing them she can no longer hide their secret from her Pops anymore. She makes a very valid point, how is it going to look when Billy realises that she knew about their secret, it would destroy him even more. She gives them an ultimatum, informing them that they need to inform Billy about their romance by the end of the week, and if they don't tell him, she will!
I think in my previous post I mentioned that I was finding Chelsea's storyline quite difficult to follow, sometimes I think it's quite difficult to tell whether she genuinely cares for her Father, or whether it's all a big act just to keep him on side. What do you guys think? Anyway, she takes it upon herself to visit the church in which Denise took Raymond and unfortunately spotted Lucas. She informs the minister that she hasn't seen her Dad for days, considering he's lawing low since his attack to keep her safe. She pleads to the minister to tell her what he knows. It looks as if the minister gives her information which leads her to a food bank of some kind, there we see Lucas grabbing some food and carrying rucksack - Is he homeless? Has he been sleeping rough? Lucas is stunned to see his daughter. After having a brief catch up, Chelsea heads back home to seek help from her Mother, however Denise is less than impressed when she asks whether Lucas could stay at her house for the time being. Denise states that if Lucas is meant to be lying low, then the best way for him to do that would be sleeping rough. She even attempts to remind her daughter that Lucas killed his ex-wife and then attempted to kill, why on Earth would she allow a murder into her home? Especially when she has young Raymond to think about! Unfortunately, Denise and Chelsea's heated discussion turns into a blazing row, which causes Denise to to yell at her daughter that she wants nothing to do with Lucas, to which Chelsea responds with that she wants nothing to do with her before storming out of the house. Interestingly, Patrick and Kim seem to overhear the commotion, whereas Kim completely agrees with her sister, Patrick has another suggestion - if Denise is continuously worrying about her daughter, wanting to know that she's safe and wanting to keep an eye on her, maybe the only way to do that would to allow Lucas to stay at their home. As he states "Keep your enemies close!"
The final thing I need to mention is Mick! After learning in the previous episode that Jed is also one of Katy's victims, it only feels right if Linda informs her husband. Gently she brings up the subject of going to the cemetery with Frankie the previous day, Mick seems surprised but allows his wife to explain. She informs him that it was just Frankie, herself and Jed - Katy went up separately, so she didn't see her. She eventually explains that she began to ask Jed about his relationship with Katy and Harry, and reveals to her husband that Jed was actually Harry's Father, he's 29 now which means that that Jed was actually 13 when Katy gave birth to Harry. Mick looks absolutely sick to his stomach as he realises that he's not just the only one who Katy abused, but then Linda drops the next bombshell that there are in fact more and not just him and Jed! Later on in the episode, Frankie visits her Father, questioning whether Linda had gone to the police after learning the truth about Jed, but interestingly Mick seems to inform her about when Linda was attacked by Dean - not going into too much detail, but explaining that she was attacked by someone who they thought wasn't all bad and was also a member of their family - getting to the point that when she informed the police it took a lot out of the family but it felt right for Linda, meaning that if Mick was to go to the police about Katy, it might help him cope. Frankie seems devastated as she realises her Father is leaning towards reporting Katy to the police, informing him that he only wants what's best for him and no one else matters, not even considering Jed. Later we see Mick walking through the Square, as he does, he notices Will playing on his own with a football - you seem to realise how innocent Will is, he has no cares in the world and just pure happiness - you seem to realise that Mick was robbed of his childhood because of Katy. Later when Linda finds him in the Vic, he reveals how felt while watching Will play, it seems to hit him hard that he was only Will's age when he was abused. It's at this point I think that now Mick knows that there are more victims, Katy needs to pay for what she's done, not just to him but to Jed and anyone else she has done it to!
Will Mick go to the police and report Katy? With all these separate storylines going on at once, I am really intrigued to see how each one plays out. What will happen between Honey and Jay, will they build up the courage to tell Billy about their romance?! What is REALLY going on with Chelsea and will Denise be able to cope with Lucas living under her roof?! I genuinely can't wait to see what happen next! EastEnders is getting better and better I think, the stories are really hard-hitting, gripping and intriguing that make you want to see the outcome. Thank you all for reading, I hope you all enjoy the rest of your week! Please feel free to leave me any comments or messages and I'll always respond! Thanks again folks! Love you all xXx
#eastenders#grayatkins#karentaylor#whitneydean#chantelleatkins#kathybeale#sharonbeale#peterbeale#bobbybeale#ianbeale#honeymitchell#jaybrown#lolapearce#billymitchell#denisefox#chelseafox#lucasjohnson#patricktrueman#mickcarter#lindacarter#frankielewis#katylewis#jed
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Good books
Almost a year later, I finally got Ten Count volume 6. I had to give myself a pep talk that it doesn’t matter if the bitch is part of the volume, just forget about her horrendous self.
In the end, my love for Kurose and Shirotani won and I bought it.
I am just so happy to have it in my hands!!! I love this manga so much! I can’t put into words how much I adore this series.
I also got Ameiro Paradox/ Candy Colour Paradox because I love that too. It’s funny as hell and is a wonderful read.
Did I mention how excited I am for Ten Count anime and Given movie? I can’t tell how thrilled I am that Given is getting a movie. I don’t know how many times I cried seeing Given anime, and the lyrics of the title song— just drive a knife through my heart why don’t you.
Fair warning, I am going to vent now. These are just some things which I don’t like in the slightest in stories and fandoms. If someone does, fine. Just remember, everyone doesn’t.
Let’s start with Ten Count. I saw some comments on a manga site that literally said the bitch ( I am not going to dignify her with a name. The slut doesn’t deserve it ) looked nice standing next to Kurose.
–She is cute even if she is evil.
–Yeah, I get what you mean. They look nice together.
I was shocked. I was so shocked. I was at a loss for words. Just because she is a girl some people are ready to forgive her for what she did and say ridiculous things like these. She ruined Shirotani in every way possible. How can someone even say that? I can’t put into words how disgusted I felt when I read that.
Do people even realise what OCD is? It’s not something to laugh about. What she and Shirotani’s father did, it wasn’t okay. I am glad Shirotani at least got the courage to talk to his father but that doesn’t erase the father was in the wrong too. Wasn’t he fucking a student?
My main problem is, why can’t people accept that some female characters are horrible? What’s with this crap of not calling bad fem characters bad? And she wasn’t even good looking, she was creepy.
The girlfriend of Halstead in Kyou Koi wo Hajimemasu, she was a monster. She actually said Kyouta tried to force himself on her when he didn’t do shit. She was the one coming onto him like some slag. She destroyed two boys friendship and what, we shouldn’t say she was bad because she is a girl. She was horrible.
I adore Hinohara Meguru’s works, I really do. I love love love Secret XXX and I am definitely going to buy it next April when it’s released. I adore Itsuki and Shouhei so much !!!
I will buy Therapy Game too because I love it. I am hoping Kamisama will be licensed soon. I really want to buy it. Rin is so darn nice, he has to be with Chiharu.
But whatever nonsense that was shown between Yuka and Shizuma—it’s unrealistic.
People don’t even look at people like Yuka after they break up with them. Regardless of the fact they are in same college or work at a same place.
It’s pathetic at best the way Shizuma says he is weak to her voice.
Not to mention she was a fucking stalker and what? They are friends? Even after what she did?
She was sleeping with someone else and they are still friends. She cheated on him, hurt him emotionally, hurt his feelings and he still talks to her.
Wow.
That’s not how the world works for any relationship.
Get out of here.
She was a bitch and I have a very bad feeling she and Shizuma’s other coworkers will create problems for him and Minato in the sequel being serialised now. Minato was so uncomfortable in the first chapter.
I don’t understand why no one said this is not reality. This is stupid.
If you want to defend female characters even if they are horrible and bad, fine.
But then, you shouldn’t write things like these : “This shows reality of gay couples.”
Pick up any tragic yaoi/shonen ai where one half of a couple marries a woman and the other is left alone. The reviews of the story have this line.
Those works are praised and applauded. Why? Is that really the reality of all same sex couples? Or are you just happy that one male got to be with a female.
If some people like reality so much, they should just go and see the news.
This reality factor isn’t present when female characters do horrendous shit (Yuka’s case). I didn’t see people saying, this is bull. Why does he even talk to her? And what the fuck does he mean by he is weak to her voice?
Dude, seriously. She cheated on you and you are weak to her voice????
This nonsense is present everywhere. Movies, books, novels, anime, manga.
Take Vampire knight for example.
The author should have been honest and said somewhere along the line she started shipping Zero and Kaname, but since Yuuki is the main girl she couldn’t put the two boys together. Zero/Kaname is a far better ship than Zeki or whatever Airen thing the author is trying to show now. It’s laughable at best, both Zeki and Airen.
I don’t like Ai, she loved Zero and now she is after his daughter. It’s weird.
Just because Ai is yume’s daughter doesn’t mean she is wonderful. I don’t like her or Ren.
You know what, it’s not even about like. I feel nothing for them. When I saw the new cover, I was like, yeah, it’s very pretty, and it’s very sweet. I am going to save the larger version when it becomes available.
That’s it. I could care less whether they are together or not.
Maybe there is a reason for Ai’s stupidity. She was raised among losers like Ruka and Aidou. Is it any wonder she ended up being weird as hell?
Ruka Souen was a horrible character, she was disgusting and I don’t understand why her husband, Akatsuki always threatened Kaname instead of talking to his oh so great love.
Dude, tell your girl to stop trying to get another woman’s man’s attention. Kaname doesn’t give a fuck about anyone except Yuuki Kuran, his love of life.
Ruka and Aidou were pathetic. The fucker even encouraged Zero to take Yuuki from Kaname, and this was supposed to be Kaname’s friend.
Yeah right. Hell, all of Kaname’s so called friends told Zero and Yuuki to get together, except, Takuma.
Have I mentioned how much I love the guy? He is the only real friend of Kaname. He had guts to say to both Zero and Yuuki what would they do if he said he had some reservations about their relationship. He brushed it off later though but at least he said it.
Except for Yuuki, Takuma and Seiren, Kaname held no feelings for anyone in this whole goddamn manga.
The only reason I am still reading this series is because I want my Yume happy ending.
Canon is shitty many times. Don’t force people to like a story or a movie. Or everything that happens in a story. Sometimes one just doesn’t like some things.
Whatever nonsense that was shown in avengers endgame (Steve–Peggy ). That was disgusting. It made my mother and me so uncomfortable that we didn’t even bother going and seeing the movie again. I saw infinity war twice but endgame – it was a horror fest.
If the movie makers wanted to show Steve with a woman that badly, well, Sharon and Natasha were right there. Why Peggy? It didn’t make sense and came off as creepy and gross. We get it, they became so scared of Stucky’s popularity that they had to show Steve with a woman. We get it.
For all three CA movies, Steve was all Bucky, Bucky, and Bucky. That’s it.
And he didn’t even talk to him in endgame. Right.
Steve/Nat was a good ship, they could have been together but what we got was some gross uncle - aunt - niece shit. Steve kissed Sharon right after Peggy’s funeral, that’s a fact. Where did his love go then?
Then again, this is the same character (Steve Rogers) who married female Tony Stark in one universe but otherwise fights with all male Tony’s.
God, could the writers get any more homophobic? Or maybe Steve saw Natasha Stark as a replacement for Peggy Carter too. I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. Brunettes, women.
Yeah, that does make sense.
That’s why I hate when people genderbent one half of a slash couple. It’s inherently homophobic. Stop trying to justify your reasons. Don’t give ridiculous excuses like you wanted diversity and all that crap. You are only making yourself look stupid and dumb.
This rubbish need for diversity never arose with FM couples. So, please don’t.
Where are Female Tony and Male Pepper fics, where are Female Clint and Male Natasha fics? Oh, sorry, they don’t exist. Neither do female Tony and Pepper.
If they do, they aren’t that popular. And I am sure female Clint and Natasha doesn’t exist.
But one can find plenty female Bilbo, female Harry, female Tony fics. All these OC females paired with males. They are OFC. They aren’t real.
Some people just can’t accept them (Thorin/Bilbo, Steve/ Tony) as an MM slash ship so they change their gender.
It’s MM Slash. No matter how many times you write in fics, this is Fem Harry, this is Fem Tony, Harry is a girl. This is not slash in capitals.
Stop.
You are only coming off as desperate, nothing more.
Stop trying to undermine the MM slash ship. It’s a slash ship, it will always be slash.
Is there any female Ron and male Hermione story? Yeah, Granger wouldn’t look like a God now would she if Male Hermione attacked female Ron because Ron didn’t want to date him?
Another example.
Let’s turn Merope Gaunt into a man and have him rape Tom Riddle Sr who is a female. No one would give a fuck if Merope was abused then. Merope raped Tom Riddle Sr and I am still astounded by the fact she was portrayed as a tragic figure while Tom Riddle Sr was shown as arrogant.
Excuse me?
Nobody cared about him in the books. Did he deserve to get raped for months by Merope because he was what? A man? Arrogant? Fuck off.
Since she was abused that gave her the freedom to douse the man with Amortentia for months to make herself happy. What rubbish excuse is that?
He owed her nothing. If she was abused, that doesn’t mean he was obligated to like her or care for her. And after what she did to him, he made a wise decision to run away from her.
Merope Gaunt traumatized Tom Riddle Sr. The man never married, even after escaping from her. His fate was even worse than Merope’s.
I can’t believe that this was completely swept under the rug. No one felt sorry for the man. All sympathies were for Merope.
Many things in HP don’t make sense. Couples, characters, their decisions etc.
Its fine if many people love it but there are many who don’t like it too. Stop trying to tell everyone what they should like or not. If someone doesn’t, respect that.
Genderbending one half of a slash couple is annoying and irritating. It’s homophobic and will remain that. All the dominant male keeps on saying in those dumb fics is how much they want to fuck the female/genderment male or are enamored with her chest and body. It’s revolting to even read that.
And of course they want lots of babies. That’s a must. Hetero sex and babies. That’s the crux of almost all gender bent fics. The dominant male wants to see the OFC with his babies.
Great!
Slash haters don’t hate this, do they? Isn’t this fetishizing female anatomy? Or have you actually deluded yourself into thinking female Bilbo and female Harry exists.
They don’t.
Harry Potter is a boy, so is Bilbo Baggins. Hell, Tony Stark is a man except for in one universe.
Steve can’t fall in love with Tony if he is a male. What did he fell for then? Fem Tony’s body?
Gender bent isn’t even crack, its worse than crack. Either these original character females are docile and nice or are BAMF’s like anything.
And don’t say don’t read if you don’t like it. Why not? Why shouldn’t we make fun of these stories?
These same people have the audacity to whine about slash ships on many platforms. Even in FM stories MM is not shown as something normal. I’ve come across many FM stories which literally made me want to throw something at the screen. Some were blatantly insulting to same sex relationships.
And let’s not forget genderbent FM stories which have this rubbish line: we are okay with fem slash, but not with MM slash.
Okay, fine. Good.
What the hell does that even mean?
Hmm, maybe that’s why genderbent FF couples don’t exist. This change is only meant for MM.
Right. Wonderful.
Yikes !
This ridiculous sentence is written on many fic writers profile and these same people changed one half of a MM slash couple into a female, with this lovely sentence at the beginning of their stories: This is not slash. It’s not SLASH. We can’t stress enough, it’s not slash!
How many times do these people have to tell themselves that it’s not slash?
It’s MM slash and will always be that.
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Not Guilty- 2
murder mystery’s back! im having too much fun with this story guys
Link to chap 1 in case you need it
warnings: albert being a human disaster, abuse of the word ‘milk’
ship: ralbert, platonic spalbert
word count: 1680
editing: lmaoooo no
Chap 2
When Albert gets to the precinct the next morning, he’s wary to find a wrapped parcel on his desk that looks suspiciously like a sandwich. He pokes at it, frowning when he sees a singular smiley face drawn on the underside in black sharpie.
“Hey, uh, Spot?” He calls, looking up when he hears his partner’s chair roll out from his desk and subsequently poke his head around the low wooden wall that separates their cubicles.
“Yes, honeycakes?” Spot’s expression is the face of innocence and Albert’s stomach churns.
“Did you-” He stumbles, gesturing to the presumed sandwich, “Is this for me?”
“It’s on your desk, isn’t it?” Spot smiles, rolling back into his cubicle.
Albert sighs, taking off his messenger bag and jacket and sitting heavily in his desk chair. He cautiously unwraps the white paper to find a loaded meatball sub sitting in the middle of a napkin. There’s a sticky note placed delicately on the fluffy white bread and Albert plucks it up, squinting at the words:
Sorry you didn’t finish your sandwich xoxo Spottie
He laughs probably too loud and sticks the sticky note on his desktop, right next to the note from Jack that reads: ‘I’m sorry for stealing your pants, I had brains on mine’ after Jack had taken his extra pair of slacks from his locker when his got spoiled at a crime scene.
He takes a bite of the sandwich, pleased to find that he can still stomach his favorite Gianno’s special after yesterday’s events. As he chews, careful not to get any tomato sauce on his shirt, he plucks a sticky note from his own pad and scrawls out: Thanks, Pop Spotcket. Love u, dear xoxo and tosses it over to Spot.
A moment later, Spot snorts indignantly, “‘Pop Spotcket’? Really? Does anyone actually use those anymore? The only person I know who has one is my niece and she’s eleven.”
Albert rolls his chair so he’s in Spot’s cubicle, sandwich still in hand, “I have one, asshole. They’re useful. Anyway, thanks for the sandwich. How’s it looking at Gianno’s?”
Spot sighs wearily, placing a stack of papers down and turning from his computer to look at Albert, “Eh. They’re closed today. I stopped by this morning to pick up some evidence left at the crime scene and one of the waiters asked if I wanted anything and I remembered that you didn’t get to finish your lunch yesterday so…”
“Thanks, man,” Albert says, mouth full. Spot wrinkles his nose and tells him not to speak with food in his mouth. Albert rolls his eyes, “Anyway, evidence? What’s new?”
“Nothing really,” Spot says, “Just Wiesel’s receipt from his last meal. Wasn’t really much on it, but it gave us a sure timestamp that lines up with our original record, so at least that’s set.”
“Good,” Albert shoves the last bit of sandwich into his mouth, licking his fingers.
“Yeah. Saw our boy there, though.”
Albert raises his eyebrows, “Higgins?”
“Mhm.”
“How’s he?”
Spot shrugs, “Didn’t talk to him. Kid looked like shit. Well, more shitty than yesterday if that’s somehow possible. Kept sending cute little glares my way, fucking ray of sunshine, that one.”
“Christ,” Albert grimaces, “I’m convinced he’s a player in this debacle somehow. I mean, he seemed genuinely surprised when he found out the vic was Wiesel, but too many strings lead to connections on his end.”
“Yeah,” Spot agrees, “I dunno, I say we dig a little into Wiesel’s other relations as well. I feel like there’s a gap here somewhere.”
“Toxicology came back,” Albert says after a pause.
Spot looks at him, eyebrows raised, “And?”
“Sarin poison in the blood. Stab wounds were post-mortem. Someone wanted this shit to look messier than it is.”
“Interesting. I wonder who’d go through the trouble of poisoning, then following up with a physical attack. ‘Specially in a public place. S’kinda risky.”
“That’s what I was thinking, but whoever it was, clearly knew what they were doing.”
“Clearly…”
XXX
Albert never understood why there was such a wide variety of milks in the world. And why, in this moment, he can’t find any simple fucking 2%.
He scans over the selection again, bypassing the almond and oat milks and skimming over the fritzy lactose free shit. There’s strawberry milk and chocolate milk on display and even horrifyingly enough, mint milk, but no fucking 2%. It’s not even like this fucking bodega is big enough to warrant having so many milks.
He just wants some damn normal person milk!
“Excuse me, detective.”
Albert doesn’t startle. He doesn’t. He’s a trained law enforcement officer and detective. People like him don’t fucking startle. But, he is on high, professional alert when he turns around to see Antonio Fucking Higgins standing behind him, eyebrows raised in what’s probably amusement and hands shoved in his pockets.
Albert makes a strangled noise, eyes working on their own accord as they trail down Higgins’ body. He’s sweaty, looking like he just came from some sort of workout, and a pair of tight adidas running pants hug his legs in all the right places. He’s in a tank top today, somehow doing his arms more justice than the grey shirt he’d been wearing yesterday. A hat sits backwards on his head, doing little to tame the curls that are trying to sneak out of the stupid hole where the strap meets the fabric. He looks hot and it’s unfair and Albert’s never been ashamed of his sexuality, but right now he’s wishing that he could reign in his gay ass a little bit because aside from the fact that Higgins is a bit of a prick, he’s also a suspect and that’s, like, number one in the Book of Nope for cops of any kind.
Higgins is still looking at him, but now there’s a small crease of concern between his eyebrows, “You alright, man?” He asks, “You look kinda like you’re having a heart attack. Do you have any chest pain? Your left arm feel numb at all?”
Albert shakes himself, morphing his expression into something he hopes looks less like Gay Panic, “Yeah, sorry, I-” He splutters a bit, then shuts his mouth with a click.
Higgins scoffs, “I just need milk, man, you mind?”
Albert starts, hastily stepping out from where he was definitely blocking the milk selection and watching as Race grabs a carton of-- fucking 2%. How did he find it so fast? How did Albert not see it? He’s supposed to be the one trained to look for details others don’t see!
Trying not to flush, Albert reaches out and grabs a carton as well and Higgins looks at him again, laughing, “You were standing here for a long time, dude, I thought you were gonna murder the milk for a second.”
“Couldn’t find the 2%.” Albert mumbles, blushing harder when Higgins laughs louder.
“Real good reconnaissance there, detective.”
When Higgins is laughing, his face changes into something a whole lot more pleasant. Not that it was ever unpleasant (the dude’s got a jawline of a god), but some of the hardness in his eyes and shadows on his face go away and for just a second, he looks like the 25 year old he’s supposed to be. It’s nice, Albert thinks, ignoring the way alarm bells are going off in his head.
“Shut up, Higgins, I’m tired. Some of us have to read about murders all day, so excuse me if my milk finding skills aren’t the most refined.”
Higgins’ face softens and the smile in his eyes turns into something else that Albert doesn’t want to dissect, “Race.”
“What?”
“Higgins is my dad, not me. And I don’t like the name Antonio very much, so if we’re gonna be talking more, be it over murder or milk, call me Race.”
“Race?”
Higgins--Race--winks, “That’s a story for level five amici.”
“Oh, okay.”
They pause for a moment and even though Albert’s not drunk, his inhibitions seem to flutter away from him against his will as he blurts out, “Drinks sometime? Would- uh- would you wanna get drinks sometime?”
And fuck-fuck- SHIT- what are you doing Dasilva? What the fuck?
Race considers him for a moment, “Not that I wouldn’t hit that,” he nods to Albert’s body and Albert flushes. Damnit with the flushing! He’s 26, not some flouncy high schooler, “But I don’t think that’s a good idea, detective.”
Albert nods, “No, yeah, honestly I don’t know why I asked- uh-”
“Relax, don’t have an aneurysm, it’s okay. I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now.”
“No no, you’re right. Absolutely.”
There’s another pause, then Race smiles apologetically, “I gotta go get the rest of my groceries. Take care.”
Albert cringes internally at how fucking painfully awkward this exchange has been, “You too,” he says, watching Race retreat to the wine aisle. He takes another moment to gather himself, then goes to the checkout line.
XXX
Albert turns up the volume on his TV, pleased with the quiet solitude of his apartment for the night. He doesn’t love living alone, but it’s been a long couple days and he’s been looking forward to a night to himself since he’d woken up that morning. Just him, some thai, and the Animal Planet playing reruns of ‘It’s Me or the Dog’ all night. Fucking self care.
He’s just yelling at some dog owner on the TV for feeding his pug 24 eggs a day and watching as Victoria Stilwell chews out the greasy fucker when his phone rings on the coffee table in front of him.
Groaning, Albert mutes the show and chugs down a few sips of beer, before picking up the phone and answering with an annoyed, “Someone better be dying.”
There’s silence on the other end and Albert pulls the phone away from his ear to check the caller ID. It’s Spot. Shit, someone might actually be dying.”
“Spot? Everything okay?”
Spot sounds sheepish when he says, “Well no one’s dying, technically…”
“But…”
“There was another murder.”
“Shit.”
-
Race went straight home after the bodega, right? RIGHT!??!? stay tuned ;)
thanks saph for ‘pop spotcket’
thanks for reading, chiefs
hmu to be added to my tag
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#newsies#newsies fic#ralbert#spot conlon#racetrack higgins#albert dasilva#hehehe#murder boys#and#detective boys
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Anonymous submitted:
Help
f/20 okay so my bestfriend of about 7 years has been dating this guy for over 2 years, he’s physically and mentally abusive towards her and i’m so sick of it. she tells me she’s not in love with him and there isn’t even a spark between them two but i think she stays because ever since primary school she’s been through a lot of traumatic things no one should grow up with and he’s always been there for her through all of it so that’s why i think she chooses to stay but even so it’s just getting to a point where it’s ridiculous. he claims he loves her but he’s not considerate of her feelings at all like he just does not care and physically beats her sometimes too. she’s tried (not really) to leave and he just cries to her about how much he loves her and doesn’t want to lose her. another reason i think she stays is bc he makes her feels wanted and needed ? every time they argue i don’t even know what to tell her anymore because i’m always just repeating myself. i feel like it’s just one of those situations where she can only leave when she’s ready to and it’ll happen with time, but it’s just being dragged on. she knows she deserves so much better and talks about how she can’t wait to find someone one day who makes her so happy but still chooses to be with this abusive person. i’m just so over it and there’s nothing i can say or do to persuade her to leave. i just don’t know what to do anymore he’s the worst person on earth and she deserves the world. i just don’t understand ☹️
abusive relationships are incredibly complex and multi-layered and there can be so many reasons why someone may not be able to leave just yet ): the two reasons you think she stays with this person are likely to be true, there’s comfort and (ironically) a sense of safety in staying with what you know. sometimes there’s physical safety to think about when leaving -- if he’s already physically abuse now, it’s terrifying to think what he could be capable of if she actively tries to leave. there’s the financial aspect to think of as well -- if your best friend is relying on him financially, it can make it even harder again to leave.
I had a best friend (also of 7 yrs) who was in an abusive relationship, I really can understand where you’re coming from. it was so draining and exhausting to see someone you care about suffering, and try your best to help someone you care about but nothing seeming to work.
the best thing to do at the moment? as harsh as it sounds, distance yourself a little bit. you don’t have to cut her off or ignore her or anything! but your well-being is important too. spend lots of time looking after yourself, put time and energy into other friendships too, give yourself happy things to look forward to?! that way it balances out the negativity and stress connected with the best friend at the moment, it makes it a little easier to manage the conversations about the boyfriend when they come up.
it sounds like what your friend needs more than anything is someone to talk to? so you don’t have to give advice as such, just let her talk and get it off her chest. if she directly asks you “what should I do?” then maybe give brief advice? but for the most part, just listen and let her talk -- helpful for her, and less draining and exhausting for you. all the best, I hope your friend is able to keep on fighting and leaves him soon xxx
- tash
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C is for Complications
Prompt: Sent to the Wrong Printer
A/N: I originally aimed for this to be funny, but the muse had other ideas. Set in between 2x06 and 2x07. Enjoy!
Word Count: 2.7k
Tagging: @thebookjumper, @olicityhiatusficathon, @scu11y22, @mel-loves-all, @dust2dust34, @releaseurinhibitions
Also available: on AO3.
xxx
I love you.
The words had been rattling around inside her all morning, really ever since they had gotten back from Russia, ever since she’d told him. You deserve better than her. You deserve better. You deserve...to be with me?
Felicity shook her head, as she attempted to focus on the swarm of emails currently cluttering her inbox.
Mr. Queen needs to read the updated proposal. I have attached a copy to this email...
Since Mr. Queen could not be bothered to attend our last three meetings...
Please inform Mr. Queen that as CEO he is responsible for…
Felicity puffed out her cheeks in attempt to relax herself, as she swiftly typed a response to all the emails labeled “URGENT.” And she’d thought hacking into the FBI had been stressful.
She did glean a small amount of pride, though, in being the sort of gatekeeper to the CEO. She was protecting him, just like she protected him every night that he was on the streets, sending warnings about what lay ahead, deterring unwelcome complications, like street cameras recording him taking his hood off in a well-lit alley or the timestamp similarities between Oliver Queen leaving a scene and The Arrow arriving.
If only she could deter other, emotional complications so easily.
As degrading as it still was, playing secretary by day, never before had she been so grateful for boring office work as she was today. Answering trivial complaints and scheduling an unnecessary amount of meetings that Oliver was “required” to attend kept her busy, kept her mind distracted from the way her heart pinched strangely every time she paused long enough to remember standing outside Oliver’s hotel room...and watching Isabel Rochev saunter out of it.
Felicity wasn’t blind. She knew Oliver’s reputation. She’d seen it firsthand with Helena and Laurel and...and now with Isabel.
But that was before. Before she started working with him. Before he became her friend. Before he became...something more.
When exactly had she let herself care about Oliver Queen so much? When had he become so important?
And yet, somehow, she was pretty sure she’d known for a long time that what she felt for Oliver was too much, so far beyond too much. And that weird, nervous thrill that fluttered inside her chest whenever she remained in Oliver’s presence was specific to Oliver himself. He’d tried all his usual playboy antics on her at the beginning; and even though she’d seen right through them, they’d still sort of...worked?
Because the man she’d gotten to know over the past year was different than anyone she’d ever met. He was better than he pretended to be. He was real. There was so much depth and goodness and honor in his soul that he kept hidden from the world, from his family...even from himself.
And she didn’t understand why.
Oliver Queen was the biggest mystery of her life, and she both loved and hated him for it.
Love.
Oh, that dreaded word again.
Did she really...love him though? She couldn’t afford to. After all, he’d said so himself, caring about someone given what they do every night...it could only bring more pain. She’d already lost so much, her father and Cooper and now….
Felicity swallowed.
Now it was too late.
She cared about him too much to let go now.
That was why she’d stayed, even after they’d found Walter, wasn’t it? The mission was important, but so was he. He was important, but so was the mission. Over and over, every night, she wrestled with her priorities, with his stubborn and reckless behavior, with her inapt and unreturned feelings for him. Sometimes, it was like her mind and heart were at war with one another, like she was the one living a double life. And yet other times, when he’d pause and rest his hand on her shoulder like that, so gently and still so surely, and he’d look at her with such a softness, like his eyes were calling out to her to save him from...something. Himself? She wanted to know the secrets he only told her in stares.
His gaze often left her jarred...and left her craving more.
Her shoulder always felt so cold when he finally had to pull his hand away.
Since the day she’d found him bleeding in the backseat of her car, Felicity knew that what she felt for Oliver Queen--what she continued to torture herself by feeling for him--went so far beyond admiration or friendship.
Oliver was never just the cute, rich castaway who pestered her occasionally with petty, life-changing requests and lied to her face with a charming smile plastered to his own. Somewhere along the way, she’d started needing him, too.
I love you.
Those words rushed through her when The Glades came crumbling down around them.
I love you.
Those words ricocheted inside her chest as Oliver’s warm body smacked against hers, pressing her deeper into the Lian Yu grass, after so many months of not seeing him, of not knowing if he was okay.
I love you.
Those words gutted her to the core as she turned and walked away from him at a hotel in Russia, bitterly muttering “even when it makes no sense whatsoever.”
It still didn’t make sense. And she was still bitter.
And she still loved him.
There. She’d finally indulged herself in not only thinking the words but in allowing herself to linger in them, to let them fill her, to let them hurt her.
Since last year, Felicity had been trying to avoid, deny, or explain away her feelings for Oliver. And now, finally putting a name to it was alarming and yet...soothing in a way she couldn’t explain. It was terrifying and freeing. It was exhilarating and exhausting.
Because he would never feel the same way.
Too bad she couldn’t just write a code to undo everything.
Like getting zapped with a spark of electricity, an idea suddenly came to Felicity. And since she was indulging her thoughts...she might as well go all in.
Pulling up a new blank document, Felicity stared at the empty white page, watching the vertical cursor blink at her over and over, nagging her, taunting her.
Finally, she gave in.
She had to do it. Just once. Just to tell someone, even if that someone was her computer.
Before she could stop herself, Felicity hit eleven keys, typing out three words.
I love him.
There. That wasn’t so hard.
Felicity jumped when the phone at her desk suddenly rang, and she answered it promptly. While speaking with the head of HR department, Felicity quickly minimized the document on her screen and ignored it for the rest of the morning.
Shortly after lunch, while Oliver was still out of the office with Thea visiting his mother, Felicity dared to open up that document once again and stare at those three aching words.
It wasn’t enough.
It wasn’t personal enough.
Felicity hit the backspace key three times and tried again.
I love you.
Gnawing on the inside of her cheek, still unsatisfied, Felicity typed out the final five and most important letters, the letters that, for better or worse, remained etched on her heart.
Oliver.
With a little nod to herself for a job well done, Felicity hit “print” and started making her way over to the sleek and overpriced printer in the corner--
“Felicity!”
She froze at the sound of his voice. Feeling guilty and caught off guard and flustered beyond measure, Felicity took a moment to try to compose herself before turning around and staring the source of her current emotional dilemma right in the face.
“What!” Her voice sounded more like cry for help than a question, so she tried again, clearing her throat. “What?”
Oliver frowned, clearly picking up that something was not quite right with her today. He didn’t know, right? He couldn’t know. How could he know?
Ridiculous man, why did he always have be so observant at the worst times?
“Meeting. Conference room.”
Right.
She sighed once with relief as she followed him directly into the conference, like the obedient assistant that she was.
Well, if Oliver remembering a meeting time on his own didn’t show her how off her game she was today, then she didn’t know what would. Thankfully, he was too busy to ask what was actually bothering her. Still, Felicity’s heart decided to badger her for the next two hours. She could barely pay attention to her notes in the beginning. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. She chanted the words like a mantra, keeping rhythm with her pen tapping against her notepad.
But by the time their meeting ended, it was nearly sunset, and the first wave of crime in the city had already begun. Felicity never made it back to check her printer until the next day, and by then The Count had broken out of prison.
xxx
“Oliver, what are we doing here?”
“I just need to grab something.”
Oliver led Felicity through the long aisles of the evidence warehouse, stacked to the brim with boxes and old files. He’d been here before, though under less pleasant circumstances.
“Are you sure we’re even allowed to be in here?” Felicity whispered. “I mean, as us...not, you know, the other us.”
“Well, Lance was able to pull few strings and said that it would be alright,” said Oliver. “We just can’t touch anything other than what I came here for.”
Felicity stopped in her tracks and pouted her lips in that adorably alluring way of hers. “I think you might be abusing your power there, Mr. Mayor.”
“Promise not to tell my secret?” He winked at her, taking a moment to run his thumb once more over the new ring on her finger, nestled against the one with the diamond. He still hadn’t gotten used to that cool, smooth, perfect texture against her skin. He doubted he ever would get used to it...to them.
“Only if you promise to finally clue me in on why we’re hanging out in a dusty evidence warehouse in the first place. Not that I don’t appreciate the lighting aesthetic, but I think if we stay here too long my allergies are going to start flaring up.”
“Well, I can’t tell you. I have to show you.”
Oliver smiled as he pulled her along a little further, down a few more rows, following the path Lance had instructed, until finally they came to the item he’d been seeking. He could tell when she spotted it, because she let out a small “oh” at the sight.
His old trunk.
Releasing her hand, Oliver quickly worked to undo the lock and lifted the lid. His hand stumbled against various items inside until it finally rested on another small box tucked into the corner of the trunk, exactly where he’d left it years ago.
As he pulled out the small box, Felicity gave him a skeptical look. “Please don’t tell me we came here just so you can grab some magical island herbs.”
He chuckled, opening the little container and finding a folded piece of paper inside.
She frowned in amusement as she watched him begin unfolding the paper before her eyes.
“A secret message from your family?”
“Something like that,” he answered.
Taking a deep breath and keeping his gaze fixed on her, Oliver slowly turned the paper around and waited...waited until Felicity spotted the familiar words on the page.
I love you, Oliver.
She stilled when she saw them.
“You know what this is.” It wasn’t a question.
“Where did you…? Oliver, I can explain--” She reached to snatch the paper from his grasp, but he quickly moved it out of her reach and patiently folded the note back up like it was the most precious thing to him--and in some, small way it was--before safely tucking the note into his shirt pocket.
“I don't want you to explain.”
Felicity licked her lips, seemingly flustered in a way he hadn’t seen her in a long time, as though this was four years ago and they weren’t married and he hadn’t told her he loved her yet.
“I-I don’t understand. How did you get that?”
“I um…” Now came the tricky part. He needed her to know why he brought her here tonight, why this one piece of paper had been a lifeline for him in the midst of chaos and darkness and...having to walk away from this woman standing before him so many times.
“I found this in the printer in my office, the night The Count almost…” he paused, swallowing heavily, avoiding her eyes. “The night I killed him.” The night I almost lost you.
“Wait, you said you found it in your printer?”
That was not what he was expecting.
Oliver looked up, frowning, confused by her tone.
“All these years, and I sent it to the wrong printer? Granted, I hadn’t exactly been thinking straight at the time, but still. How could you find this and not tell me? Why not just throw it away and put me out of her misery and...ugh, this is embarrassing--”
“What? Why?” He rushed close to her, his hands coming up on their own accord to grab her upper arms near her shoulders, his thumbs running in circles to try to soothe her.
She visibly relaxed under his touch. “I just…I never meant for you to see that. It was supposed to be for me, for my eyes only. It was just something I did to…”
“To what?” he asked.
“To try to let you go. Because I had all these inappropriate feelings--not inappropriate inappropriate, just feelings about my boss that were not returned--”
“That you knew of. That either of us knew of.” Oliver sighed, drawing warmth from her presence as he so often did, drawing strength from the familiar trust he saw plainly on her face. “I suspected that the note was from you, but after just telling you I couldn't be with someone that I could really care about, I just...I didn't know how to tell you I'd found it. And then The Count tried to hurt you, and then Barry Allen showed up and you went away and things got…”
“Complicated?”
“Yeah.”
Felicity offered him a tender smile. “Welcome to my world.”
“I didn’t know if you wanted me to know or not. And for a while, I didn't...I didn't want it to be you. Every instinct inside me told me not to let you in...not to let myself care about you. Everything I learned on the island, that you can’t trust anyone but yourself, that caring about people gets them killed.... Russia showed me that. The Count showed me that. Slade showed me that.”
“But you still kept it?” she asked softly.
Oliver shook his head, barely understanding why he did it himself. “I guess there was a part of me...a bigger part than I wanted to admit...that wanted this, wanted to be with you, even if I thought that could never happen.”
“Oliver…” Felicity breathed, reaching up to caress his cheek and hold his head in place, keeping him grounded, keeping him whole.
“I just wanted you to know that I knew. And I’m sorry I wasn’t ready...before.”
“Oliver, it’s okay. That’s all in the past. And we made it here, didn’t we?”
He sighed a laugh. “Yeah, I guess we did.”
“And I’m sorry, too.”
Oliver started. “For what?”
“For writing you basically the shortest love letter that ever existed.”
He laughed, his chest feeling suddenly lighter and fuller, as only Felicity could ever seem to bring him. And as he leaned down, she met him halfway, and he kissed his wife deeply, right there in the middle of the abandoned corner of the evidence warehouse, the note that she’d written him ages ago pressed between them, right against his heart, where it belonged.
When they finally broke apart for air, Felicity was smiling as she wrapped both her arms around one of his. But when he started moving, she paused. “You’re just gonna leave it?” She nodded to the trunk.
With one final glance at his past, Oliver nodded firmly, sure of his chosen future, sure of one half of his life standing beside him and the other half hopefully sound asleep by now back home.
“I don’t need it anymore,” he replied. “I have you.”
#ohfat#olicity hiatus fic-a-thon#olicityhiatusfic#olicity#olicity fic#how I love thee: a to z series#my stuff#shelley does fic
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Imagine Finally Being Free of Your Demonic Curse
(S/N):
First, Second
Requested(zbhoubinaIs)- “It's wow, I'm surprised by this suite, I love your work, I hope not to be abused but you want to make a last game and I leave you carte blanche, please”
~
The sky's were clear of any cloud; perfectly blue and just that. Birds chirped and the sounds of crashing waves in the distance accompanied them. This deserted, well almost deserted, island was quite a contrast to the bustling city just across the water. For you, it was completely serene, practically un real, but that could be due to your now cleansed body. Cleansed in the sense that it was finally your own anyways.
After the horrifying incident about a month ago, all of your friends had done anything and everything they could to help you, especially Optimus. He had missed so much stasis, staying up late to research what he could about the supernatural. It got to the point where Ratchet had to pull him away from work instead of the other way around. It didn't stop him of course, the blue and red bot still put in much of his time for you, but some how also managed to care for himself. If he could skip a meal or take a short nap though, than that's what he'd do. You were his main priority, and seeing the leaderly Cybertronian so focused and determined, his teammates wanted to put in just as much effort as him. You had a special place in Optimus spark, earning you just as much specialty amongst loyal friends.
It took time, but eventually someone did find a cure. A woman who had dealt with others of the same special abilities several times in her long life could take out the dark entity within you. Professor Sumdac paid for her flight to come over from a neighboring state. After being told of your situation she was lead to the Autobots ship beneath Lake Eerie. Optimus wasn't too sure of her at first, but the woman paid him no attention and quickly got to work. It took her an entire week to completely cleanse you, as she put it. She explained that your powers weren't dark themselves, but the spirit clinging to them was. It was like a parasite; attracted to your supernatural powers when you were born, and feeding off of them after taking refuge within your own being.
When the lady had finished, and you were free of any evil darkness, she had received a thousand thanks from practically everyone. She only waved and went about her way. However, even with you having your body all to yourself, the mayor of Detroit requested that you take leave away from the city for a few months just to be sure. Optimus was very upset about this, feeling like they were over reacting and offending you in some way. With some calm discussion a compromise was made and that's how you ended up here on Dino Bot Island. The Dino Bots didn't mind you in the least, with Prowls convincing of course, and often minded their own business, roaming the island and what not.
As you enjoyed the feeling of fresh air blow through your hair, metal foot falls sounded close behind you. You payed no mind, thinking it was just Grimlock come to ask if you'd like to join him and his friends, but when an all too familiar voice spoke you quickly looked up over your shoulder.
"How are you doing?"
You smiled brightly at the concerned voice of Optimus Prime as he took a seat next you on the ledge of the cliff you resided upon.
"I'm feeling great! I've never felt so. . .so light!", you explained whimsically, out stretching your arms as though you were about to take off.
Seeing you like this made a smile appear on the Autobot’s face. He did notice a significant difference in you since your body became your own. Before the incident even happened, you always looked tired, strung down by some invisible weight. While you were very beautiful then, you just didn't have as much radiance as you did now. It was like a flower having been deprived of sunlight for so long, and then blooming out like an umbrella to catch the very missed rays of the sun. Optimus was so happy that you were better now. He had been so caught up in trying to care for you that when you were healed he actually felt almost useless. Like his job was done and he's no longer be needed. However, even after you had been freed of the dampening demons inside, you were still fighting a horrible battle with yourself; guilt.
While you put on a facade to show how thankful you were, and you were thankful, for the help that everyone gave to you, you still ultimately broke down when alone. Especially when it was just you and Optimus left on the ship. He had left to get you something to eat, and when he came back you were in a fetal position on the ground. It gave him a near spark attack and rushing over he realized that you were fine, save for the tormenting cries that bellowed from your small person. You cried and cried, about how you deserved no forgiveness, about how you didn't mean to hurt anyone, about how terrible you felt, about so many bottled up emotions and thoughts that boiled during your time of 'healing'. Optimus simply held you close, letting you release all the tension inside you before he felt it was the right time for him to speak. He told you that he could never not forgive you; saying that that wasn't you who hurt him so you have nothing to be forgiven for in the first place. He spoke of how he knows you didn't mean any of it, because none of it was your fault to begin with. Optimus cradled you and comforted you, telling you how he could never see you as anything less because of what happened only a month ago.
"It's beautiful isn't it?", you murmured, watching the setting sun.
Optimus nodded, staring down at you with lidded optics,"Sure is. . ."
Of course, he was not referring to the beautiful sunset over Detroit. No, he was referring to the one he saw not as someone who wielded demonic powers, but one who wielded the powers of their own light; you.
~xXx~
(A/N: This was a fun lil series to do, and I want to thank @zbhoubina for these wonderful request idea’s!)
#tfa optimus prime x reader#optimus prime x reader#tfa optimus prime#optimus prime#transformers animated#transformers animated x reader#transformers x reader#transformers imagine#transformers animated imagine#reader insert#reader imagine#drabble#human reader#freedom#demonic powers#request#requested#imagine#@zbhoubina#imababblekat's writing
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Got asked about BioWare fandom and prime numbers... (Also a specific request for Mass Effect on #1)
1. What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get?*
Aside from any crackship... I don’t think any of them is quite at the level of ‘don’t get.’ I don’t care for certain relationships, but I generally can understand what would make someone ship them. It helps that, with the variety of romance options, I can at least get where they come from. Hell, as much as I hate the pairing, I understand where Anders/Fenris emerged from. I firmly believe it has a less than zero chance of being anything more than a hateful unhealthy abusive shitshow, but I understand where it comes from.
I think the closest to ‘not get’ I have is Ryder/Cora, which is really just out of the fact that, despite her being a romance option in the game, I really seriously genuinely feel that she should not have been one, that not only would her characterization be tightened by this no longer being on the table, it would allow her to be more of a rival/antagonistic element to Ryder’s decisions, by not having her developing feelings for Ryder while also not seeming to care for them. Though I’m not sure Ryder/Cora counts as a fandom OTP, since the overall impression I’ve gotten of her as far as fandom cares is a resounding ‘meh’...
Maybe I’d throw in Dorian/Cullen here, but I think what I don’t “get” in this is that people will ship this, but when I express a desire for Male Inquisitor/Cullen, I’m ‘changing his sexuality’ and that makes me ‘just as bad’ as anyone who’d change Dorian to be romanceable by a woman... Yeah, let’s not even go there.
2. Are there any popular fandom OTPs you only BroTP?*
Warden/Morrigan. I just really see Morrigan needing the Warden as a friend more than a lover. At least considering that I’m over here playing male Wardens (because I stand by Morrigan being a bisexual woman and it is bullshit that she’s not a romance option for female Wardens). I think Morrigan is in a place where she needs, first and foremost, someone who wants nothing from her but her friendship and companionship, things she’s never been asked to offer before. Sex, sure, she’d use that as a weapon. But to offer her someone who she can be vulnerable with, who doesn’t want to use her at all... That’s new territory for her. The Morrigan/Warden friendship is a greatly unappreciated dynamic.
3. Have you ever unfollowed someone over a fandom opinion?
Not that I can recall. I generally won’t follow someone unless either we share the big ones or they show that they’re respectful of those who disagree.
5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?*
Not really in the BioWare fandom. As a general rule of thumb, I try and cultivate my experience to enhance my love, not have it undermined.
Though (dis)honorable mention to the Shakarian fandom - I’m a male Shepard player through and through (since, y’know, gay guy, rare chance to play a M/M relationship in video games), but it’s like some of them are TRYING to make people hate the ship, given the way that they’ll push Shakarian to the center of the stage and tear down Kaidan. These are also usually the people who hardcore push this belief that female Shepard and Jennifer Hale are empirically ‘superior’ in every way, too, so they can bite me twice over.
7. Is there anything you used to like but can’t stand now?*
I think the closest that counts is Dorian, in that I wasn’t thrilled or wowed by his romance in Inquisition, but would probably have given it another go, if not for Trespasser having him declare the relationship would be long-distance, no discussion allowed. After that, the luster wore off of the character for me, and I really can’t stand him, don’t WANT to see him have the cameo that they shot his romance in the foot to set up.
11. Is there an unpopular character you like that the fandom doesn’t? Why?
I’m going to stick Kaidan in this category - when BioWare themselves is misspelling his name on their official merchandise, I’m pretty sure that counts. Though, as my tag for her indicates, this is an Ashley Williams appreciation blog, and the fandom hates her too...
As for the why... Kaidan is the trilogy character most like me, which is what always draws me in to a romance - let me romance this idealized version of myself with the dashing hero, give me that confidence boost that there’s someone out there who I’d be attracted to who would return those feelings. And Ashley, legitimately, is hated for bullshit reasoning that I will have no part of. She’s fun, badass, and literally doesn’t deserve the hate she gets - if these people who are pissed about her MAYBE killing Wrex REALLY cared about him, they’d do his damn quest and recover his grandfather’s armor.
13. Unpopular opinion about XXX character?
I don’t like Dorian. I think he’s a shallow character with limited (if any) development in Inquisition, who is raised on a pedestal because of the novelty of a gay character of prominence in a media generally devoid of them entirely, as well as a vocal performance that gives him more personality than his writing offered. And his story is a paint by the numbers story I’ve seen a dozen times over that brought nothing worthwhile to the table that hadn’t been brought before, and it only exists to do the emotional lifting to make the audience feel bad for Dorian, rather than genuinely attempting to make the audience care. AND that he’s there first and foremost for the straight female audience to have a ‘pet gay best friend,’ with no care or concern for the gay audience.
17. Instead of XYZ happening, I would have made ABC happen…
How long have you got? Kaidan in ME1, Alistair, and Cullen as bisexual romances (in Cullen’s case, for all Inquisitors, so I don’t have to give up my Adaars) are the big ones, but I’ve got a list a mile long of things that if I had the power, you BET would have happened.
Though, at the moment, Andromeda DLC is right around the top of the list too...
19. What is the one thing you hate most about your fandom?
Lordie... The utter toxicity. You have to do, say, and choose JUST RIGHT or face a million people coming for your head. And, of course, that ‘just right’ position is impossible to attain. There will always be SOMEONE who doesn’t like what you do in your games and will want to rip you a new one for it.
23. Unpopular character you love?
Kinda the same question as #11, but I’ll give a different answer anyway - Gil is unpopular for understandable reasons. It’s clear his story wasn’t a priority for his writer, and it’s a mess of homophobic elements that consulting actual gay people could have prevented. Still, as a character, I love him. He deserved better than he got, especially when the patches did nothing for him and the cutting of any DLC for Andromeda prevent any kind of authorial saving throw, but I will love him all the same.
And try and fix a lot of these problems through fic.
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13, 18, and 19 for the salty meme, please!
This’ll be fun! I’m going to ramble a lot here...
13. Unpopular opinion about XXX character?
Zira is actually a more interesting villain than Scar.
They’re both well written, but Zira strikes me as more unique and terrifying, especially as far as Disney villains go.
Scar is a good foil to Simba (like Scar, Simba initially has a childish, idealized idea of what it means to be king), and his willingness to throw anyone under the bus to get what he wants makes him pretty scary. However, he’s not as interesting once he gets what he wants. After he becomes king, he becomes more childish than scary. Not a bad villain by any means mind you, but not the most gripping one either.
Zira on the other hand... she scares me. She’s terrifyingly unhinged, especially considering she’s in a Disney movie. She’s still calculating and cruel, like Scar, but she takes things to a whole other level. She weaponizes her children (and straight up abuses them!!!). Scar has lackeys too, but his treatment of the hyenas strikes me as less frightening. Both parties clearly have something to gain in his case (Scar gets the throne and the hyenas get food, at least at first). With Zira, while Kovu would have gotten the throne and her pride would have gotten to live in the Pridelands if she had succeeded, things don’t feel as balanced since Zira would still control her pride with an iron paw and her children would still be treated as mere tools, almost certainly dealing with more of her abuse regardless of how things went.
Basically, Scar and Zira are both tyrannical in their own way, but Scar is less interesting since his behavior seems less extreme, or at the very least it’s not as disturbing to me since I still can’t get over the fact Disney made Zira as terrifyingly abusive as she is. Physical abuse (striking Kovu), emotional abuse (treating Nuka like utter garbage and neglecting him until he was literally dying), raising Kovu in such a way as to give him no concept of what fun is... sheesh. The only other characters I can think of off the top of my head who were that mindblowingly awful as parents is Rasa from Naruto and Show Tucker from Fullmetal Alchemist. Granted, I almost always stick to child friendly works, but still...
18. Does not shipping something ‘popular’ mean you’re in denial and/or biased?
Definitely not in denial, but definitely biased.
Everyone is biased in some way whether they support popular ships or not since people tend to value different aspects of relationships more than others. What makes two characters seem like a good match to one person might not seem compelling to another, and that’s without even getting into how people interpret characters’ personalities and such differently.
For example, I tend to like ships where characters help each other work through trauma and/or start off as friends before slowly becoming romantically involved over a long period of time. Meanwhile, I don’t care about characters’ physical attraction to each other much, and I often find relationships both in real life and fiction extremely rushed to a frightening degree. This is reflected by my own romantic experiences (it took me three years of being best friends before I felt any romantic attraction to the only person I’ve ever been interested in, and we went through a lot together in terms of emotional baggage), so there isn’t a doubt in my mind other people have biases too regardless of who they ship.
19. What is the one thing you hate most about your fandom?
I’ll discuss a couple of my fandoms since I don’t have a main one.
It bugs me how fixated the Naruto fanbase is on the portrayal of female characters and, on a related note, ships. I agree Kishimoto could have done a better job with them, although I do think the issue is exaggerated to at least some degree (for example, I don’t think people acknowledge how freaking awesome Temari is enough. The fact she could summon Kamatari as a genin still amazes me considering how strong of a summon he was). I wish the fanbase discussed other aspects of the work more, whether negatively or positively. It feels like there’s a lot people don’t discuss in favor of tearing into one or two topics.
For Pokemon, it irks me that the fanbase seems so creatively sterile. People regurgitate many of the same opinions without bringing much new to the table. Sure they do at least try to add their own spin on things like new evolutions they’d like to see, but I seldom see anything super memorable or creative, which is a shame since their are plenty of aspects of the franchise that have a lot of room for more creative and original content. Maybe I’m just watching the wrong Poketubers...
I wish several things I like had more active fandoms. For example, Craig of the Creek is amazingly fun and has a great sense of childlike wonder, and Speechless is basically More of This Please the show, at least for me and other people with disabilities. I’d kill to hear more people talk about them!
In general, I hate how focused on romance many fandoms are. Romance isn’t a bad topic to explore by any means (although I often have trouble getting invested in it myself), but I’d like to see more aspects of works explored in depth. Give me more explorations of family dynamics, more deep friendships, and more brief yet interesting interactions. I prefer when romance is at most a subplot, so it can be frustrating to see it brought to the forefront at the expense of many other things.
Thanks for asking! Feel free to ask me other stuff or message me any time (just about had a heat attack when I got your asks since I’ve been a fan of your fics for ages now).
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