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wutheringmights · 2 years

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The Original “Call Them Brothers” Chapter 1 Draft

As many of you may know, Call Them Brothers wasn’t always this super serious war drama about Warriors’s being terrible. The plot bunny actually began as a rom-com about Twilight and Midna reunited, with Warriors thrown in the middle for comedic effect. I started writing this story until I realized that whatever I had going on with Warriors, Time, and Spirit was far more interesting. At that point, the draft was scrapped and I went back to the drawing board to form the story we know as CTB today.

I figured that in honor of CTB officially being one years old, I would share that original draft.

Just a few things before you start reading:

This is still a draft, so the standard of writing is not up to snuff (there is even a few notes I’d left to myself to google words I couldn’t remember)

You can actually see the exact moment I realized that Warriors’s relationship with Mask and Spirit had more depth to it than I initially realized

You can actually see a lot of the bones for some of the big concepts in CTB, like the civilian camp, Warriors’s cheating, and his relationship with the other soldiers

I had planned to name this version of the story “What They Call Hard Feelings” as a reference to the Lorde song “Hard Feelings/Loveless”

Instead of being the child, Mask was referred to as the youngster as a tribute to his in game title being “the Masked Youngster”

This ends mid-sentence

All that being said, I hope you enjoy!

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Link met Midna early in the war, but it took him much longer to really know her.

As an imp, she was haughty. She delighted in mischief in the same breath she cursed all those who know her. Around her, Link’s shield would disappear, only to reappear by the latrines. When he spoke, she would hum and count clouds. When he strategized, she would snort. At night, she would roam the army camp on the back of a magic wolf. The sickly glow of her eyes would scare the night watch. On more than one occasion, she had been confused for an enemy monster. Link always had to trek after her in the middle of the night to tell her to knock it off.

And she’d laugh. “Am I causing too much trouble, Captain?”

She always was, but she never stopped. She never even seemed to care.

Link knew from the history tomes Lana had given him that Midna was one of the Hero Spirit’s companions. In another life, she was his friend. It was why Cia’s magic had dragged her into this multi-era war to begin with. Yet her entire existence seemed devoted to making his life as difficult as possible.

That is, until the curse that had befallen her broke. The imp transformed back into the Twilight Queen.

Now her skin was moonlight blue, and those demonic yellow eyes glowed like soft embers. Her voice, once high and grating like a disturbed cat, was melodic like wind chimes. She was seven feet tall, and when Link looked up at her, it was with the inspired awe of seeing art for the first time.

She didn’t bother him after that. She brushed a hand over the crest of his shield, but did nothing more. When he spoke, she nodded and offered insight. When he strategized, she was silent.

Link was left with the sense that he never really knew her at all.

But he didn’t have a lot of time to devote to getting to know her. There were supplies to count and distribute. Troops to train, placate, and deploy. He had intel to analyze and war politicians to haggle. And he had Mask causing his own brand of trouble, as well as Spirits’ tinkering. Then Ravio kept on setting up illegal stores, and that Marin girl kept insisting she could help, and General Impa was breathing down his neck—

Link was busy. He had a war to run.

Except, there was that one night.

It started when Spirits had grabbed the crook of his elbow.

He was one of dozens drowning in endless rounds of beer, cackling with his troops around a bonfire. They weren’t due to head out again for another week, which meant it was time for his men to unwind. It also meant that Link was juggling strategy meetings alongside training and keeping the rest of the multi-era expats out of trouble. Enjoying time with his men—this was his time to make sure they knew he was on their side, and them on his. Link was careful to make sure that he didn’t drink too much, unless these @inappropriate men caught him off guard.

It was easier said than done. Like always, his men took their time off at the civilian camp. Military regulations dictated that anyone not a part of the Hyrulean forces could not dwell within a mile of it, so whatever nurses, merchants, and worrying families that trailed after the Hyrulean Army had to make due elsewhere—the civilian camp. It was a popular spot for soldiers to relieve their worries, and it was in the scrutinizing eyes of the public. Link could feel them all on his back.

A hand grabbed Link’s sleeve from behind. Link tensed until he heard a familiar voice say, “Captain?”

Link made a show of making an annoyed face, getting a few of his men to laugh, before turning around.

Despite being his distant predecessor, Spirits didn’t look a whole lot like him. The teenager was a short guy, thick-boned and strong. His cheeks were like apples on his round face, and his chin was non-existent. He still had stitches in his forehead from the last time he was in combat, though the thick threads were coated in a hefty layer of soot or oil or whatever else he needed to fiddle with machines all day.

In the orange firelight, Link could just make out where the oil still on Spirits’ hands stained his clothes, and for a long moment, all he could think about was how he was going to have to wash his tunic before bed. When he looked up, the sight of Spirits’ lips moving made him start.

“Come again?” Link said.

Some of the soldiers right next to him hollered with laughter and slapped Link’s back hard enough to make him lurch. Spirits just sighed and dragged Link away. Link went willingly.

They didn’t go far. There were a few logs set out for seating just within the light of the bonfire. The nearest civilian tent was a good distance away, but Link had seen the wife and children who live their already turn in for the night. Link let himself fall onto the log, groaning as the pressure left his sore feet. He took the heartiest swing of his flagon that night. “What’s going on, Engineer?”

Spirits huffed. “Help me find the youngster.”

Link almost groaned. “What’s he doing now?”

“Caught him trying to steal alcohol again. I tried to chase after him, but he used one of his masks to get away.”

Link nodded, taking a moment to curb back his exhaustion. He didn’t really understand how the engineer could sense people’s spirits. When they had first met, Spirits had taken one look at him and said, “Oh, so that’s what it’s like whole.” Spirits never explained what that meant, only claiming that the Hero’s Spirit seemed to change depending on the holder. For the Hero of Masks, it was both exhausted and littered.

Exhausted, like it belonged to someone much older than ten years old.

Littered, because different types of spirits seemed to cling to it.

Link didn’t know what that meant, but if Spirits was trying to pull a fast one, Lana would have told him.

“Can’t you just sense where he is?” Link asked.

Spirits sighed. “I would, but…” He nodded towards the encompassing forest.

Link follows his eyes. Whatever is there had escaped his attention. The firelight wasn’t strong enough to pierce through the tree line, but Link didn’t need it. He relaxed.

It was the Twilight Queen. At night, her long cloak blended into the shadows until she looked like nothing more than a trick of the light. Midna lingered at the edge of the civilian camp, no emotion upon her face as she wove through the brush. Her eyes glowed brighter than the fire, and they never drifted towards Link.

Midna didn’t even notice him as she meandered away, disappearing into the shadows.

“She’s a lot,” Spirits said cryptically, wincing the way he did whenever his sixth sense went haywire.

Link didn’t reply. He knew better than to comment on royalty.

“What do you think she’s up to?” Spirits asked.

Link shrugged and brought his flagon back to his lips. “One of her walks, I’m sure.”

Spirits thought about it for a moment. He twisted his mouth, as if his thoughts had turned sour.

“Speak, Engineer.”

Spirits shrugged. “She seems… off.”

Link shrugged. “She’s allowed to do what she wants.”

“No, not that.” Around Spirits’ neck was a silver whistle on a chain, and he toyed with absent-mindedly. “It’s just that—she’s not a light spirit, like you and me. She almost feels like a dark spirit, but something’s not right about that either. I don’t know. She just gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Well, that would have been important information to have known a while ago, Engineer,” Link said.

Spirits threw his hands up. “Sorry! I didn’t realize you would want to know—”

Link rubbed a hand on his chin, tuning out his boisterous soldiers and Spirits’ frantic apologies. He checked his surroundings again. His men were still consumed with merriment, but Link could see a figure weaving between their legs. A figure, though unclear, about the height and build of the youngster. Link smirked, but hid it away.

“I’m not doubting your abilities,” Link said, finally putting Spirits out of his misery. “But that’s not a good judge of character. You said yourself that the youngster’s spirit gives you the heebie-jeebies as well.” Link made quotation marks with his fingers, ignoring how Spirits face went from apologetic to unamused. “Besides, Lana said we could trust her, and I trust Lana.”

Spirits nodded. He took a long, calculating silence and cleared his throat. “Speaking of which—”

Link glared. “Don’t—”

“You haven’t said anything about her since you broke up.”

Link grumbled, looking away. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“What? Is she mad at you?”

Link brought his flagon as close to his mouth as possible, muttering, “She will be when I tell her.”

Link hoped that his troops were too loud for him to be heard, but the goddesses were not that kind. Spirits’ bushy brows furrowed. “You’re kidding.”

“It’s… complicated, okay?”

“You just have to tell her!”

“I’m not going to break-up with someone over letter when they’re the one maintaining the @area front. I’ll talk to her about it when it’s a better time.”

“And now it’s a good time for you to be screwing around with every girl you meet?” Spirits’ voice was stern, but even—a complete contrast from the way his anger jumped around his face like lightening in the sky. “Don’t break up with her? Fine. But that doesn’t give you a pass to be a cheating asshole.”

“It’s not like that!” Link snapped.

“Move.”

Spirits yelped. He flinched away from the youngster who stood behind him with a teeming flagon. Link laughed.

Link looked nothing like Spirits, and Mask looked nothing like either of them. His face was round, but only with youth. His eyes were big and blue, and his nose was even bigger. It stuck straight out, as if a doting nanny had pinched the tip and tugged it to a point. Given a growth spurt and puberty, he might grow into it one day.

A perpetual frown covered Mask’s face as he stepped around Spirits, taking a sip from his flagon as he dropped onto a spot on the log next to Link. “So—”

“Nope.” Link reached for the flagon, only for Mask to hold it out of his reach. “Hand it over, youngster. You’re not old enough for that stuff.”

“Fuck off,” Mask said.

“Hey!”

With his attention solely on Link, Mask didn’t see Spirits until it was too late. The engineer pulled the flagon out of his hands, quickly tipping it over and dumping the alcohol onto the ground.

Mask groaned, his large gestures making him seem bigger than he is. “C’mon!”

“You’re ten,” Link said. “You can wait until you’re older.”

Mask folded his arms over his chest, grumbling, “This is bullshit…”

Spirits turned the empty flagon in his hand, opting to toss it over his shoulder. He studied Mask for a moment, giving him a moment to recover. When the youngster continued to sulk, he sighed. “So,” he said casually. “Did you know that the captain is cheating on his girlfriend?”

Mask turned to Link. “The fuck, geezer?”

Link felt like he was going to scream. “I’m not cheating,” he said, but he was drowned out by Spirits recounting everything to Mask in a low voice.

When Spirits finished, Mask made a face. “Seriously?” he said, looking Link over with incredulous eyes. “You’d stoop that low?”

“I don’t need to justify myself to a ten year old,” Link said, knowing it was a low blow.

Mask’s hands turned into fists. “Big talk coming from you. You’re just using chicks to deal with whatever problems you have. Grow up.”

“You really think that low of me?” Link snapped.

“Call it as I see it.”

“C’mon,” Spirits said. “This isn’t a productive.”

“No, let the kid talk,” Link said, letting spite seep into his words. If he was in a war meeting, every single one of Zelda’s advisors would have his head for insubordination and a variety of other crimes that could be summarized as the-commoner-not-knowing-his-place. Here, in the ambiguous space where Spirits and Mask were his subordinates and his friends as well as himself in another life, he could loosen up a little and be mad. “Obviously he has such great ideas and all.”

Link could see Spirits wince, and it made him pause more than he wanted to admit. It dug into his chest and reminded him that he knew what he was doing, and he felt bad about it. He felt terrible, but it was one of many voices he’s had to mute these past few months. War did that, and Link hated it.

Mask counted on his fingers. “One, you start to stress out over some bullshit or whatever. Two, you seek approval from everyone. Three, when you ultimately don’t get it from Zelda because, wow! She’s a princess who does not have time for whatever shit you’re going through. You go off and get it from anyone who’s willing, and that just happens to be whatever lady is around. And five, Lana is just in the crossfire.”

Mask folded his arms over his chest, a large smirk on his face. “How’s that for you?”

Link sighed. It wasn’t the response Spirits and Mask weren’t expecting. Link didn’t care. “Alright, fine. You win. Happy?”

Before either could say anything, Link rose to his feet. He could feel his knees object, which really wasn’t fair. He was barely seventeen. He shouldn’t be old. “I’m heading back to camp.”

“Running away much?” Mask said right as Spirits’ shoulders fell.

“Don’t be like that,” Spirits said.

“I’m not,” Link said. He pointed to his sleeve where Spirits had left an oil stain. “Gotta get this out before bed. I have a meeting in the morning.” He could see the way regret burdened Spirits’ face even more, but Link couldn’t stop now. For once, it was nice to let loose a little. They would forgive him in the morning.

Link started for the path through the woods, bidding his men goodbye when he went to retrieve his lantern. The forest was dark, and his lantern was just bright enough to illuminate a few feet in front of him. It only made the rest of the forest seem darker, like a wall of impenetrable black. Soldier instincts demanded that he dowsed the flame and let his eyes adjust to the darkness instead, but he didn’t want the night watch to think he was a spy. A mistake like that would get him shot.

If he was traveling with a group, that wouldn’t be a problem. He should have dragged Spirits and Mask back with him.

Exhaustion settled over him. For someone so young, Mask had gone through too much. Yet he was always on the offensive, both literally and metaphorically. Link could not drag him away from a fight no matter how much he tried, and the youngster only got more vicious towards his allies every day. A kid like that needs someone to love him, to tell him that it was time to rest.

And Spirits—the guy had ten stitches in his head because he froze up in battle. He can wield a sword just fine, but he never wanted to. From Spirits’ stories of his life back in New Hyrule, Link extrapolated that the engineer was just that: an engineer the gods forced into heroism. Spirits liked working with his machinery, and Link should keep him there.

Except, Link was their captain and he had a goddamn war to run. He didn’t have time to give them breaks. He had to smother and burry the impulse to keep them coddled and safe. He needed them on the battlefield, and the pragmatic part of him he hated knew they needed to be vicious.

Link really needed a drink.

Link heard the

#past me describing warriors's relationship with spirit and mask: hey wait a freaking minute...#the original title being What They Call Hard Feelings is still something i think about #because it was gonna be about twi and midna's hard feelings but also warriors's hard feelings with spirit and mask #almost kept it in the new draft until the song by regina sparks (sp) came on and I was like omg. they were called brothers :(((((#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu #Lu fanfic #lu fanfiction #lu warriors #lu mask #lu time #lu twilight #lu spirit #lu midna #ctb #lu ctb #ctb birthday

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ayamturd · 3 years

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Hi! If the color requests are still open, could you please do Ranboo with Louis Blue?

Thank you in advance ^^

cornfield louis│ranboo

warnings: none, only fluff

pairing: irl platonic!ranboo

a/n: this is more dialogue heavy, i hope you don’t mind (it’s 3am and i’m a lil tired lol)

also ty for the request, ik it’s late but i really did love the concept for this color :3

‘colors’ m.list

“What the hell is that supposed to be?”

You were above Ranboo, leaning over his shoulders to look down at his rough artwork on the ground. He glanced up at you before adding more to the sketch.

“It’s a cat, obviously.” You gave him an incredulous look, eyes wide with your eyebrows furrowed; it didn’t matter the look you gave him considering he was still turned away from you.

While he was concentrated on his drawing, he noted the still silence and turned to look up at you again, surprised to find your eyes wide with concern and bewilderment. He took a double take at your serious expression and shifted so he could see you more.

“What?” He asked you the question directly, yet you were still focused on his drawing rather than him.

“No.”

Ranboo was now more confused to your single word response and leaned forwards with a hand raised as if to comfort you.

“No? No what?” You shook your head softly and finally turned your eyes towards Ranboo’s, almost apologetic at the sight. Your tone, however, was clearly amused at his original intent and the outcome.

“I’m sorry to break it to you, Ranboo, but it’s not obvious.”

Immediately, his once caring worry faded as he became quickly offended at your comment. The betrayal he felt and expressed made you laugh loudly as you rested both your arms on him to look closer at the sidewalk art.

You pointed to what looked like the body, gesturing widely to the area. “Like, why does it have so many legs?”

“Those are the whiskers!” His statement made you cackle harder, forcing you to tug your head between his neck as to smother your obnoxious laughter.

“Y/n! It’s not that funny, stop it.” Ranboo tried to be stern and feign hurt, but it clear that he was holding in his own laugh too.

You were wheezing at this point. Eventually, Ranboo joined in, and you both shook in laughter until you had literal tears in your eyes.

“Do you want help?” you asked, voice strained from the previous laughing fit but earnest otherwise.

“I don’t know what you could add to it, it’s already so perfect,” Ranboo joked. He handed the light blue piece of chalk anyway, and he moved so you could sit with him.

As you sat down, legs crossed, to observe the many changes it needed, Ranboo reached from behind you for another piece of chalk. He began to draw something else but stopped once feeling your heavy stare.

“What now?”

You glanced back to his original cat with a teasing smirk, and leaned onto your propped hand with a tilted head. “Are you really starting another when we still need to fix this one?”

“It’s not that bad!”

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagines #ranboo imagines #ranboo x reader #yams' colors

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chxrrysangel · 3 years

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Stark Tea Time

Summary || Morgan Stark drags Bucky to one of her legendary tea parties, Sam leaving him to drown in pink fluff and glitter.

Warnings || Bucky actually smiles

You do not have permission to post my work anywhere else

“Lay up Cyborg, live a little. It’s not like I’m gonna di—”

“Look! Sam, I drew something for you!”

The two men’s attention is diverted from their conversation as little Morgan Stark comes barreling down the hallway, paper flapping in one hand and an assortment of crayons in the other. Her hair is covered in little butterfly clips, strands adorned with a wide array of colors from the chalk dye strewn across her cherry wood floors. She’s wearing a massive tutu, dressing to the 9s in a blue ballerina costume.

Sam smiles at the little girl, always excited to see what she has to offer. Ever since Tony passed, all of the Avengers men have taken on a father-like role towards the child, always making sure she feels loved and cared for. It’s the least they can do.

He bends down to her eye level, giving her his full attention. The smile on Sam’s face is in complete contrast to the grimace adorning Bucky’s features.

“What’s up sweetheart? Whatcha got?”

The little Stark giggles in excitement, overjoyed to see her two favorite Avengers come to see her again. They’re always quite busy, saving the world and everything. So each visit is quite meaningful to her. They’ll never replace Tony, but they ensure that his memory and love for Morgan is something she’ll never lack. They’d all die before that happens, and she knows that.

She takes the drawing from behind her back and lays it out for both of them to see. It resembles some sort of bird-like figure, Sam thinks to himself. Next to it is a robot-type figure, not failing to notice the frown etched into his features with a Crayola marker. Shaking with excitement, the little Stark looks at the two men expectantly.

“What is it?”

Morgan sighs loudly, annoyed by their stupidity and lack of “artistic vision”. The two men have yet to figure out where she learned such a concept.

“It’s you guys! Duh!” Their mouthes form into an ‘o’ shape in understanding.

“Well it’s stunning. It’s absolutely beautiful Morg. You know, I might have frame this one actually. When you become a famous painter, this is gonna be worth so much money!” Morgan squeals, jumping around excitedly as Sam praises her.

“I think it’s kind of ugl—” Sam cuts him off by sending a small electrical current to Bucky’s arm, causing him to hunch over in pain as he’s being electrocuted.

“What he was trying to say is that it’s very avant-garde, meaning unique in the art world. Don’t worry little Stark, it’s a good thing.” Sam smiles at her encouragingly, hoping Terminator’s harsh words back there wash over her. She nods in understanding, James’s words already long forgotten.

The two men attempt to continue their conversation from before, discussing details about their next mission. There’s a hostage situation in the Palace of Westminster, the perpetrators threatening to blow the whole thing up with everyone in it. But before they can really strategize how to scope out the place, Sam feels a tap on his leg.

“Yes princess?”

“Can you guys come to my tea party?”

“Actually Morgan, we have to go so—” Bucky starts to say before being rudely cut off my bird-man to his left. Sam shoot daggers in his partner’s direction and the words die in his throat.

“Actually, I have to go take care of something really quickly. But Bucky can join you.” At those words, Bucky’s head jolts in his direction, giving Sam one of the meanest looks he’s probably ever seen. But the big man is all bark and no bite, so Sam just laughs in his face. Bucky’s fists tighten at his sides, thinking of all the ways he plans to torture and murder Sam when they leave the Stark house.

Morgan, on the other hand, is practically bursting at the seams. Bucky doesn’t know this, but he’s her favorite of all the Avengers, especially because his titanium arm reminds her of her dad’s suit. She feels closer to him when she’s with Bucky. Plus, they’re both kinda stoic, but it’s only an act in her eyes. She knows that deep down, he has a heart of gold.

Morgan takes Bucky by the hand, dragging him down the hallway back to her room. Meanwhile, Bucky looks back at Sam, pleading for some kind of mercy or aid. Sam, of course, provides no such thing and only cackles at his best friend’s misfortune. He says goodbye to Pepper, promising to be back once he finishes talking to Torres.

Meanwhile in a certain Stark’s bedroom…

Morgan bounced from corner to corner of her large bedroom, capturing all of the items she needs for this special occasion. It’s not often she has a guest for her weekly tea parties, let along James Buchanan Barnes of all people. She has to make a good impression if he’s ever going to come back.

Standing like a dark looming giant,surrounded by tiny chairs and more pink and purple than he’s ever seen, Bucky is clearly out of his element. At 6’0 tall, he stands taller than anything in this room, standing neck and neck with the canopy bed in the middle. Morgan doesn’t take notice of his discomfort however, she’s just happy to have him. She whips around him, gathering her stuffed animals at the table and setting up the placemats for each guest.

Almost as if having an epiphany, the mini Stark girl gasps and runs out the bedroom, yelling that she’ll be right back. Bucky wanders around the room, taking notice of all the little trinkets and toys that he, along with the rest of the team, gifted to her over time. His lips contort into a ghost of a smile, reminiscing all the times Morgan screamed for joy every time they came bearing gifts. The gifts didn’t really matter to her, though. It was just their presence that set her heart into cardiac arrest and her cheeks aflame. They were her family.

Not soon after, Morgan returns dragging a more normal sized chair into her room. Bucky is surprised at this action, as the small girl is barely breaking a sweat. That is, until he noticed the two small gadgets attached the back of the chair, marked with Tony’s insignia. So little Stark is smart, just like her dad.

Morgan sets the chair down next to her own pink, fluffy and bedazzled throne at the head of the table. She sits down, motioning Bucky to take a seat and calls the tea party into session. Bucky’s eyes wander over the pristinely white tabletop, taking in the wide assortment of snacks. From shortbread, frosted oatmeal cookies, to cheeseburgers and mini sandwiches, you name it and she’s got it. The baked goods are Pepper’s doing of course, courtesy of her daily afternoon attempts to become the next Martha Stewart. Morgan doesn’t mind at all, eager to indulge in a daily sugar high as the designated guinea pig.

“Tea?,” the child offers, “it’s raspberry, your favorite.” James can’t help but blush as her consideration of his tastes. For a kid, she’s a pretty decent host. He quickly covers up his blush by coughing and nods firmly.

After filling up the China tea cups lined up around the table, Morgan moves towards introductions. “Bucky, these are my friends. There’s Mr.Whiskers, Genevieve, Fae, Natasha, Tony, and James. They’re very happy to have you here with us. They think you look quite nice today.”

James? As in… Bucky can’t help but blush again, honored that Morgan named one of her beloved stuffed animals after him. He smiles shyly, staring at the lavender Elephant across the table. The girl doesn’t fail to notice his smile, happy that he’s happy.

“So James, how do you feel about glitter?”

~~~

The doorbell rings sometime around 7:00, just after sunset. Pepper opens the door to a smiling Sam, carrying a mysterious box by his side. He just left Torres house, the two men agreeing to scope out the place just before dawn when everyone is still sleeping. That way, they can get a good picture of what it looks like on the inside without having to use night vision technology.

“What’s in the box?”

“Lemon Merengue. For Morgan.” Lemon Merengue is Morgan’s favorite dessert. So by bringing her some, Sam hopes that she’ll forgive him for taking a rain check on one of her illustrious tea parties.

“They’re still down the hall.” Pepper points in the direction of mini Stark’s room, before returning to her baking. Tonight, she’s trying devil’s food cake.

Even from down the hall, Sam can hear the chatting of two distinct voices, a deep scratchy one and a much higher, daintier tone. He shakes his head at Morgan’s complete lack of an inside voice when she’s excited. They must be having a blast in there.

To Sam’s surprise, Bucky actually seems to be enjoying himself. He stands in the doorframe, watching the two chat back and forth while a Disney movie soundtrack plays in the background. From the distinct piano, Sam recognizes Beauty & the Beast (also one of Morgan’s favorites).

Sitting down obediently, Bucky gives Morgan his full attention as she places puffy stickers on his titanium arm and adds little doodles to his real one. He smiles as he watches her drawing a picture of the two of them with princess tiaras and feather boas, just like they are now. She babbles away, telling him the details of the movie she wants them to watch together. It’s called Tangled, he learns.

Sam decides to leave the two alone, going back to help Pepper bake in the kitchen. Although, not before snapping a picture of the two together, reminding himself to print it and put it on the fridge. He knows that Pepper isn’t exactly the kindest person to be in the kitchen with, as she is very bossy and demanding. But he’d take that over ruining this special moment in the princess-themed room down the hall.

He can still hear the faint giggles and screams of Morgan, this time begging Bucky to stop tickling her. She pleads for mercy but he refuses to budge, only making her laugh harder and her giggles to bounce off the walls like they’re in an echo chamber. And to think, he was gonna say no earlier.

#sambucky #tfatws #sam wilson #bucky barnes #morgan stark #marvel #the avengers #winter solider fanfiction #tony stark #bucky fluff #pepper potts

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oh-lordy-lord-save-me · 2 years

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Mm yeah the lore for sky is rlly interesting I’m so glad they are giving us more with these seasons

I feel rlly bad for the mantas tho ;-; poor guys ;-;; they don’t deserve thissss 😭😭

Cosmetics are banger tho, I loveee the Russian vibe from them, it’s rlly cool

If I remember correctly there’s concept art for the golden wasteland by Tom Zhao on his website. It shows battery concepts and the “cages and refinery process” which is what i think is showcased in the abyss murals. I can’t show the image rn but notes on the drawings says that “light was drained out of creatures” and there’s “cages filled with waste.”

I recommend checking out his work as its very pretty^_^

Also I very much do enjoy the cosmetics. Especially the cackling cannoneer they have a special place in my heart <3

#ask #sky cotl

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passivenovember · 3 years

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You Look Stupid When You’re Sad.

Steve Harrington smelled of sour patch kids and unbaked cookie dough.

Billy didn't think it was a bad smell, exactly, just weird; intense, heady, and stuck to the walls of his brain. Doughy when the sunlight couldn't dry the track marks of Steve's sweat before nap time, heady when it got into Billy's system and stuck with him like the thrum of his heartbeat.

Wherever Billy went Steve Harrington was there. Like a shadow. A noisy, scrawny, wire-frame glasses wearing shadow that elbowed its way into the chair across from Billy's during lunch and followed him around at recess; three feet behind and always pretending to spot interesting shapes in the clouds when he thought Billy wasn't looking, but.

Billy was always looking.

It was so weird.

Steve was so weird. The way he made bright, happy noises when he was paired with Billy for station time, how he always drug his mat over from the other side of the room to sleep next to Billy when it was time to zonk out after second recess despite knowing that the spot was saved for Barbara, Billy's actual best friend.

She got nightmares and Billy liked to be there to hold her hand while she dreamed but every afternoon, without fail, Steve came wondering over with his lip stuck out in a question.

It was confusing.

Steve was so confusing. The way he hugged his mat to his chest, chin quivering with a little, "Okay. Sorry, Bills." Every time Billy slapped his hand on the carpet and growled that the spot was taken. Occupation, not reserved for pasty-kneed dorks with wire frame glasses, and.

Billy didn't want to make the kid cry, or anything, but he always managed to do just that. Paint himself as a bad guy.

Billy rubbed his forehead as Barb settled in on his left hand side one afternoon after such an altercation, smiling so big her lips disappeared behind the plastic frames of her glasses.

"What's wrong, Stevie?" She asked, and.

Billy tried not to be jealous.

Steve hiccupped, cheeks growing redder by the second. "I wanna nap with you guys but Billy won't let me."

"Hey, that's not--"

"You can sleep with us if you want to. Billy has a really big blanket, maybe he can share with both of us." Barbara looked at him expectantly, like. "Right Billy?"

And it was dumb.

It was so dumb, that they were staring at him with hopeful eyes and Steve's chin was still quivering and Billy didn't want to be the bad guy; he wasn't Mesogog and he didn't want to hurt the kid's feelings, but.

Steve Harrington got under his skin. With his soft hair and big brown eyes, always following Billy around and begging for the space to be made. Billy got clumsy and nervous when Bambi was nearby, and.

The idea of sharing space. Sleeping next to Steve with his chirpy little noises and warm soft hands, it.

Made Billy feel like he was breaking out in itchy red bumps.

No.

He would stick to his guns; the blanket just wasn't big enough for three people. But then, Billy's grumpy brain supplied, Steve could steal Barbara and keep her as his own best friend if Billy didn't let him stay, so. It was time to cut his losses.

"God, you look stupid when you're sad." Billy muttered.

Steve started crying again.

Billy really wished he'd stop that.

"I'm sorry, Billy. I know I'm dumb but I don't mean to be." Steve whimpered. He tucked his mat under his arm and made to get up.

And leave.

As if Billy would let Steve make him look bad in front of everyone, especially Barbara.

"Lay down, dork." Billy grumbled, tugging the blanket up around his shoulders and peeling it back for Steve reluctantly.

Harrington's smile was so bright it could've melted crayons when he settled in close, chirping happily as Billy pulled the blanket around them and tucked in on impulse. The room went dark, Mr. Talamantez reminding them to count butterflies if sleep wouldn't come.

It didn't.

Steve smelled too much like cream and sugar for Billy to get any rest at all.

"Whatcha making, Billy?" Steve asked, pink tongue poking out in concentration as he peered over Billy's arm at his art project.

A stack of pink and red construction paper was Billy's favorite thing in the world because it meant endless possibilities. Pink was soft and sweet, red was passionate and cool. Like hot wheels and firetrucks and hearts full of warm oven mitts, so.

He pulled the leaflets from his backpack during circle time and got busy, carefully folding the delicate paper hamburger style and then tracing swirly, dramatic lines for each heart on the page.

Valentines was Billy's most favorite day of the year.

Even more than Christmas, even more than his birthday, and only a little bit more than Halloween because on Valentines? The whole universe was covered in flowers and little tin wrapped chocolates and love hearts were the best thing for a kid to make with scissors.

Billy ignored Steve's tongue, turning his shoulders to the room. "I'm making love hearts."

"For who?"

"None of your beeswax."

"Okay," Steve said happily, grabbing a handful of markers and re-situating himself much closer than Billy would've liked. Steve's Nike's tapped the itsy-bitsy-spider on the rug as he declared, "I'm drawing batman on a surfboard!"

And Billy tossed aside his first ruined Valentine. "Oh cool, I don't remember asking."

"That's okay," Steve giggled. "Sometimes I get motor mouth. My Daddy says it's 'cause I'm a fruit."

"My daddy called me that sometimes before he got sick." Billy turned to glare at him. "That's not a good thing."

"It is to me!" Steve giggled again. He was always doing that. "I like Kiwis. My mommy packed some for lunch and I had them for breakfast. They're yummy in geek yogurt. They make me smile because they have beards!"

Steve cackled like kiwi's having beards was the funniest thing on earth and Billy wondered what there was to be so happy about.

He tried not to smile at Steve's dumb face. "I think you mean Greek yogurt."

"Yeah, probably. If I'm like a kiwi, that's alright, I think." Steve's tongue poked out again. "Surfboards make me think of you." He declared, and.

Steve smelled like toasted chocolate on s'mores, his hands somehow kicking up more of his sugary sweet odor each time he reached for a new piece of paper. Billy didn't know how he was supposed to get anything done when his circle buddy smelled like a chocolate birthday cake.

It was kinda gross.

Billy pulled out a sliver marker and traced Stinky Butt Max on one of the smaller Valentines, remembering to fold down the corners so the sensitive skin on her palms wouldn't get hurt when she inevitably started smacking him it.

The pink Valentine looked more like a chewed up Starburst gummy this way, but. Max wouldn't know the difference.

Steve peered over his shoulder again, cooing softly. Like a baby dove. "That ones pretty, Bills! Is Max your Valentine?"

"Ew," Billy wrinkled his nose like he sometimes did when Max needed a diaper change. "She's my baby sister, don't be an Ick Monster."

"What's an Ick Monster?"

"Somebody who makes weird jokes and says weird things, so." Billy shrugged, scrawling his mothers name on a second love heart. He poked Steve's tummy with his marker. "That's you, I think."

Steve giggled before slapping Billy's hand away, and. Watching him work.

After a while Steve inched closer. "So you don't have a Valentine?" He wondered, and.

Billy didn't understand the question. "Mr. Talamantez said we're all each other's Valentines so nobody feels sad."

"Yeah, but. Everybody has someone they want to smooch on Valentines." Steve started playing with his hair, fingers twisting waves in a sea of brown, like they sometimes did when he was nervous. "Someone they like best-best. Better than all the other kids."

Now it was Billy's turn to giggle. "That's icky."

"Smooching?" Steve's eyes sparkled. "It's fun sometimes."

"Like you've ever kissed anyone."

Steve looked offended. "Have too."

"Have not."

"Have too," Steve pouted, crossing his arms.

Billy began work on a third Valentine. "Who did you kiss?"

"Nancy Wheeler."

Billy snorted, not sure if he wanted to imagine Steve kissing Nancy Wheeler, or. Kissing at all.

Steve's chin started quivering. "You don't believe me?"

"No." Billy said lightly, capping the marker with a sniff.

Kissing was not fun. It was wet and violent and looked like it maybe hurt a little bit, the way he'd seen his mom and Susan kiss when he got up to go potty at night. Billy regarded Steve through easy, narrowed eyes; Steve wasn't the kind of boy who kissed like that.

"How come you're so weird?" Billy wondered.

"I like being weird." Steve said, reaching for a green marker to color in his surfboard. Steve nodded at the small pile of Valentine's strewn on the carpet between them. "You should put the love hearts on foam when you're done."

"I was already gonna do that, genius."

Billy wasn't already going to do that, but he'd eat a centipede before he let Harrington know he came up with a good idea.

"They could be superhero colors!" Steve hollered suddenly. He was so loud all the time. "That way your mommy and sissy can know that you love them because they're cool. Like Aqua-man."

Billy frowned, watching Steve fold his Batman drawing over and over again until it all but disappeared from sight. He leaned back against the wall with an eye roll, shocked out how much Harrington lacked any concept of taste, or.

Shame.

"Aqua-man isn't cool," Billy said. Because Aqua-man wasn't, he was like. The lamest of them all. "His only power is making the bad guys drown, at least the other heroes can punch really hard."

"Punching isn't always the best, though." Steve tucked Batman into the front pocket of his shirt, leaning into Billy's space. "Sometimes punching just makes the bad guys stronger. Like Wilson Fisk."

Billy frowned. "Punching works for Spiderman."

Steve considered this fact, pink tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth again. He thought really hard for a long time, as if Steve didn't have Spiderman socks on everyday at recess when he removed his Nike's to fill them with rocks.

Such a weird guy.

Finally, Steve smiled. "I like water, though. Your eyes are like water. From the fountain in the hallway, and like the lake at camp." Steve pushed his way into Billy's space, frowning with his head cocked to the side like there was more thinking to cross of the list. "You're very pretty, Billy. Like a cloud."

And.

Billy didn't have the words to articulate the way Steve's smell went a little crazy after that, like a bag of powdered sugar had caught fire from a signal light once he realized what he'd said. Billy waited for Steve to take it back, because.

Boys calling other boys pretty wasn't allowed in Mr. Talamantez' classroom, or. Anywhere else.

Steve didn't take it back.

"You wouldn't like Aqua-Man's water, 'cause you'd drown." Billy said, getting back to work on his Valentines if only for a distraction from the way Steve was watching him. "He doesn't control his power very well and sometimes the mean guys get hurt real bad."

Steve kept right on talking. "I wouldn't be a mean guy though," He reasoned, sliding impossibly closer on the alphabet rug. "I'd help him fight crimes. Like Captain Underpants!"

And.

Billy had nothing to say to that, sucked in and drowning by the way Steve's eyes were glittering.

"You're a weird guy, you know?" Billy breathed.

Steve's giggle went right to Billy's tummy, teaching it to do backflips, somehow.

"That's okay." Steve said, reaching back for a fresh piece of paper. "You'll remember me better and maybe you'll ask me to be your Valentine."

Steve's hair fell across his eyes, head bopping along to whatever song he was singing to himself today. His lips glittered like a frosted donut. Like he'd been eating a strawberry ice cream cone instead of confusing all the boys around him.

Maybe you'll ask me to be your Valentine.

Huh.

Billy started work on a new love heart and pretended not to notice.

On Tuesday morning Billy woke to the smell of pancakes and fresh squeezed orange juice.

Maxine was already up.

Her long red hair was piled on top of her head in two Princess Leia buns. Susan had put in little heart clips and the pink dress Billy's mommy had made special was already covered in mashed banana and something that looked like magic marker.

She was all ready for Valentines day.

Billy didn't understand why they bothered trying to make her look dainty when Max was more interested in destroying Billy's favorite toys and starting fires.

She sat on the floor of the room they shared together, sucking her thumb and playing with Billy's favorite race car. Her wet, chubby fingers made the blue Camaro shine brightly with spit and Billy felt like his face was burning up.

"Hey," He said, rubbing at his eyes. "Hey, you're getting spit all over my--"

"Race car!"

Max held it out to him triumphantly. Billy frowned, moving to grab it from her chubby little fist. "I know that's my race--"

"It's a blue car," Max said thoughtfully. She looked at him, like, "Blue cars are my favorite."

"It's my favorite too--"

"Can we share?" Max wondered, putting the little wheels on Billy's knee and letting the car zoom back and forth. He imagined that Evel Knievel was in the drivers seat wondering why his car wasn't first in the race.

She looked happy, like always, to be playing with Billy's toys.

He sighed. "Yeah, I guess we can share. It's Valentine's Day."

Max seemed to enjoy that. "I like today!"

"You do?"

"Yup," She said happily, little chubby fingers tangling in Billy's hair because he hadn't brushed it yet. "Candy and sour gummy worms and kisses from cute boys!"

Billy glared. "You're kissing cute boys?"

"Uh-huh!" Max hollered. "Lucas gave me a dandelion."

Billy thought long and hard.

About Valentines Day and all the things that came with it. The pink shirt that hung pressed in his closet, fresh cupcakes with plastic rings, a bag of Scooby-doo Valentines Susan had picked up at the market for all his classmates, homemade love hearts at the bottom of his backpack. Three with red foam, one with a delicate lace doily, and.

Kisses.

Max was getting flowers and kisses from a boy.

From someone special.

Billy took the race car from Max's hand and drove it around, thinking about boys with brown eyes and soft hands.

Maybe you'll ask me to be your Valentine.

"Wanna eat some breakfast, Max?"

"I had 'nanas." She said with a smirk.

Billy hummed, standing to get dressed. "Mama probably made chocolate chip pancakes, you don't wanna eat something special?"

Max's little red eyebrows pinched together. "I can have yours?"

And.

Billy didn't know what was so necessary to her about taking everything that was his. Playing with his toys, sleeping in his pj's, eating his breakfast, it was like Max didn't know how take something and make it her own.

Billy pulled the pink shirt over his head, feeling every bit like a turtle when Max did the same with the collar of her dress.

"You can have my pancakes." Billy concluded, puffing out his chest. "If you'll be my Valentine."

"You don't have a boy to kiss?"

"I might," Billy picked the race car off the ground with a smile. "This is practice for when I see him at school. So, will you be my Valentine?"

She thought about it.

Long and hard, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth, before nodding with her entire body. "I think he will."

Billy sighed. "Really?"

"If you give him sour gummy worms and smooch his forehead he will," Max said.

And.

Maybe things would turn out okay. Billy nodded, grabbing the race car and driving it across Max's forehead, careful that the little plastic wheels didn't get stuck in her hair.

From the stucco ceiling of the classroom beautiful strands of silver and gold hearts painted a mirage of stars.

All the desks had a rose and a cardboard mailbox intended for the delivery of Valentines and at the center of the room a table filled with cupcakes and strawberry Capri-sun packets. Preparation for the party this afternoon, and.

Mr. Talamantez had turned their space into a glittering, perfect fairytale.

Billy hugged his basket of Valentines close to his chest and tried not to search for Steve before dropping his backpack at the cubby station.

He was right in the middle of tugging his special sweater down over his head when Barbara scooted in next to him, pretty in a little pink jumpsuit.

She handed him a tiny, delicate giftbag full of chocolate hearts and dinosaur erasers, smiling from ear to ear as Billy hugged her nice and tight before handing off something he had made special. A tiny paper crane his mommy helped him fold, and a bunch of rainbow goldfish sat nestled in a basket of paper Mache.

They were her favorite snack in the whole world and Barbara was Billy's favorite person, so it seemed fitting.

She hugged him and Billy smiled, peering around the room for a head of wavy brown hair. "We could share our presents with Steve," He muttered, like. It wasn't a big deal or anything. Billy tugged on the sleeves of his red sweater and tried to stay cool. "Where is he?"

Barbara pointed to the book shelves.

Steve was sat under a string of twinkly lights, shoulders tucked against the pillows Mr. Talamantez set aside for circle time. His face was buried in the crook of his elbow, and.

He was crying.

Of course he was crying.

Billy felt the Valentine in his pocket grow heavy.

Barbara said, "Steve broke his glasses, maybe you could make him smile?"

And.

Billy wanted to do that. Longed to make Steve giggle and chirp with happiness like the annoying little Meadowlark he seemed be. It would be so easy to. Walk over there, tap Steve's shoulder, and say the words.

Pose the question.

Will you be my Valentine?

Steve was making huffy, nervous little noises when Billy came to a stop beside him.

"Hey Harrington, playing with all your friends?" Billy sneered, confident that Steve would giggle like he was did, but.

When he finally turned around his face was red and puffy. As if he'd been crying all morning and all night, too.

"What do you want, Billy?" Steve whispered.

He sounded sleepy. Spread thin, like the last spoonful of jam on burned toast.

"What's wrong?" Billy asked carefully. "What happened?"

Steve sat and rubbed at his eyes, chin wobbling as more tears spilled over. "My daddy broke my glasses." He whispered.

And Billy hated it.

He always hated when Steve cried but today. Right now, he.

Felt like he had to do something about it.

Billy took the love heart from his pocket and sat down next to Steve, cuddling back into the pillows until their shoulders were touching. It took all of five seconds for Steve to settle in next to him. Roll his head back against the wall until he was looking at Billy with a question in his eyes.

Steve looked at Billy's shoulder and back up at his face, like.

"Can I--"

"Come here, stupid." Billy grumbled, Pulling Steve in until they were cuddling on the pillows.

Steve chirped. It wasn't his usual sound, light and airy, it was.

Thick.

And heavy.

Like a blanket sopped with rain water. Steve buried his face in Billy's neck. "I don't have any Valentines to give this year."

"That's okay."

"I made something special for you," Steve whispered, pulling back to study Billy's face. "I know Mr. Talamantez said we weren't supposed to, but--"

"Will you be my Valentine?" Billy's stupid mouth said.

Steve blinked at him, and.

Billy wanted to hide in the bathroom for thousand years.

Steve pulled away to sit crisscross-applesauce. Facing Billy, like this was something important. "Huh?"

Billy mirrored him, tucking his hands away so they wouldn't shake when he held out the love heart.

It was pink. Big and bright and outlined with a white doily that Susan helped him glue around the edges. Billy had dug through Max's box of stickers for the one with Winne the Pooh, the one he'd been saving for someone special. Winnie was covered in tiny valentines, eating right out of a jar of honey with a butterfly sitting on his nose, and.

Billy had thought it was perfect.

He worked for hours on the font. The saying that made his mommy laugh when he read it to her; you're bear-y sweet. Be my Valentine.

Steve took the love heart in his hands, and.

Didn't say anything.

Billy frowned. "I just. Remember you asked me to be your Valentine, or. For you to be mine. And--" His hands were shaking again. "It's stupid. God, this is--"

Steve leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

It was gentle. Like the brush of butterfly wings, barely there and then gone before Billy had a chance to really register the movement, or. Think about what it could mean.

Steve wasn't crying anymore when he said, "I'll be your Valentine."

Billy's brain took a minute to catch up. "Huh?"

"I'll be your Valentine, Billy." Steve giggled, staring down at the love heart once more. "This is so cute. I loved Winnie the Pooh when I was a baby. My mom always put me in footie pajamas that had Eeyore on them. And tinker bell too, sometimes. You could've put the Red power ranger on there instead. He's my favorite--"

Billy sat back against the pillows.

He was learning that Steve Harrington was weird.

Like a puzzle with one piece missing, or. An empty tube of bubble mix. Steve was colorful and loud and all over the place with opinions. He shined bright and loved hard, and.

Sometimes it was best to sit back and listen.

Happy Valentines Day!!

I really just sat down and wrote this. Wow. Anyway--thank you for reading and supporting my work. Your comments and endless kindness keep me going when I don't always feel like trucking on, and I wanted to do something to remind you that if this was an elementary school classroom I would give you so many lollipops.

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #valentines day #first kiss #kidfic #soft billy hargrove #I know I'm late #but I love ya #and I will everyday #so really #everyday is valentines #not to be a fucking sap #but it;s true

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 3 years

Text

The Art of Flirting

Corin doesn't really know how to flirt. He knows the technical term, that some are very good at it, but he's never had the skill. Usually others had approached him, not the other way around. Until now Corin has never found anyone interesting enough to make him want to put in the effort.

So now he's in a relationship (which is still mind-boggling to him) and Corin has no idea how to flirt with his partner.

This becomes painfully apparent to him one day as he's lounging in a chair in one of the common rooms with Leave-it and Zev'sonya at opposite sides of the newly acquired sofa, each with a datapad in their hands. Clearly Zev'sonya is in an exceptionally good mood as there is no trace of the usual frown on her face and at one point, she actually reaches over and lightly prods at the blond's thigh with the tip of her boot.

When Leave-it glances up from his screen and over at her, she quickly acts like she had never moved at all and stares intently at her own screen. Leave-it watches her for a few seconds, curious, but eventually returns to stare at his datapad.

She does it again. He looks up faster. She acts innocent even quicker.

The concept of a playful Zev'sonya is as unsettling to Leave-it as it is to Corin and the blond seems hesitant to push his luck and slowly turns his attention back to the screen yet again.

Corin lifts his eyebrows when he sees Zev'sonya grinning when her prodding Leave-it gets no reaction so she starts sliding her foot up and down his thigh.

In a flash, Leave-it grabs her ankle, holds her leg there, before looking over at her with an increasingly confident look on his face. “You want something from me?”

Zev'sonya doesn't flinch, merely tilts her head and maintains both eye-contact and her scary smile. “I don't know.” She pulls her leg free with a sharp movement, but there is no anger or disapproval in her face, just a challenge. “Can you deliver?”

Corin is wondering if he can sneak out of the room without them noticing him, it is pretty clear they've forgotten all about his presence and this is getting awkward, but then Leave-it reaches out to grab Zev'sonya and she jumps up on her feet to dodge him.

She tries to make a run for the door, but Leave-it is incredibly fast. He vaults himself over the back of the sofa, gets between her and the exit, and hoists her over his shoulder while she makes an almost ladylike squeak of surprise.

Corin expects her to get angry, maybe even lash out, but to his surprise she just cackles and lets him carry her out of the room. Huh. Okay. Flirting, such a weird mystery to him.

And same goes when Raga joins him and Paz during a morning work-out and just hovers for a while before she ends up sparring with her riduur.

Paz is trying to show Corin some of the tricks he's been trying to teach him, but Raga doesn't really cooperate and at one point she even flips Paz over her hip and slams his back against the floor.

Wide-eyed, Corin takes a step forward to ask if he's okay and offer him a hand up, but then Paz sweeps out his leg and sends Raga tumbling to the floor next to him. This is bound to end in a fight, right? Corin feels his stomach tighten anxiously and he's looking for some way to defuse the situation when he hears both Mandalorians, just lying on the floor, break out into a shared laugh.

Paz gets up, offers Raga a hand, which she takes, and pulls her up on her feet. She uses her grip on his hand to shove him against the wall, hard enough so it echoes through the room, and their armor clink as she pins him there with her own body.

Corin glances around, a little awkwardly, getting the feeling that this isn't the angry kind of fighting, and considers just trying to sneak his way out of the room.

Raga says something in Mando'a that Corin doesn't understand. His brain translates it into 'one more', which doesn't make sense, so he must have gotten some words mixed up.

“Corin.” Paz rumbles, not turning his t-visor away from Raga.

Corin straightens his spine. “Yes, sir?”

“Get out.”

“Yes, sir.” He doesn't hesitate to obey. But as Corin flees, he is yet again reminded how terrible he is at flirting. He had no idea that was going on in that training room. He needs to get better at this flirting thing. For Din.

That very evening Corin ends up having to take a shower after the little bean spits all over his shirt after trying a new orange and purple fruit that he clearly did not like. That is when Corin discovers how he'd managed to throw that stained shirt on top of his night shirt. Great. Here he is worried about his flirting skills when he's a mess with no clean shirts. That means laundry tomorrow.

Pulling on his loose sleeping pants, he needs to get new ones as these keep sliding down his hips, Corin towels his hair dry for a little while before entering the bed room. He can go one night without a shirt, the air is warm and Din will be there if he needs extra warmth.

Speaking of which, Din is lying on the bed, sans armor, and his t-visor turns to lock on Corin when he steps into the room.

“Everything go okay?” Corin asks as he draws his hands through his semi-wet hair, knowing the child is just a couple of doors away with Mose and Junior and yet can't prevent himself from asking.

Din nods, but doesn't speak. Strange.

Now worried about Din, Corin walks over and sits down next to him on the edge of the bed. “You okay?”

Din nods again. But he seems tense?

Corin places a reassuring hand on Din's thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You sure, ner kar'ta?”

This time, Din's nod is barely visible.

Corin gently runs his hand over the soft fabric across the tense muscle there. He's not entirely convinced, Din seems too tense for everything to be okay, but he doesn't seem angry or scared so it can't be too serious. Which means he will just have to wait for Din to tell him in his own time. Corin trusts him.

Getting up, Corin walks over to crawl into bed from the other side and settles next to Din, who exhales a long, very slow and controlled breath.

So, yeah, flirting... Maybe Corin can ask Leave-it for some advice? Or Kiergan? Surely someone in this castle can help him tease Din a little?

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #Din Djarin #Corin the storm trooper #Corin Valentis #Leave-it #Zev'sonya #Zev-it #Raga Saxon #Paz Vizla #Raz #King Oblivious #the one-shots start coming and they don't stop coming

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nelllraiser · 3 years

Text

those magic changes | eddie & nell

TIMING: before nell was yoinked into the hellscape. LOCATION: gallows grove. PARTIES: @specterchasing & @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: eddie and nell have some much needed post-highschool catching up while a spawn tries to catch them up. CONTAINS: sucidal ideation (eddie’s general disregard for his life).

The Bend, also known as the bad part of town, also known as Eddie’s favorite part of town, looked particularly derelict the day he and Nell decided to meet up. The sun hung low overhead, threatening to swap places with the moon at any moment. Meanwhile, within the depths of the sewers, an especially hungry vampire awaited the transition with rapidly diminishing patience. His sire botched his shot at immortality, making him a mindless spawn but, what he lacked in brains, he made up for in brutality.

Eddie parked outside a stretch of abandoned homes only a few blocks away from the spawn’s location. He took a sweeping glance at his surroundings, but there was no one in sight. His hand slipped into his back pocket and retrieved his phone before texting Nell in search of an update.

[Text to Nellspawn]: It’s 7:46 and we agreed on meeting at 7:45.

[Text to Nellspawn]: If you hate me, say it to my face, coward. ):

Nell crept up to Eddie’s car like a cat, making not a single sound as she ducked below the side of it- for once grateful that she was shorter than was ideal. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she smirked as she read the illuminated words on the screen. In the blink of an eye she was jumping from her hiding spot into Eddie’s window, slamming the screen of her phone against the driver’s side window of Eddie’s car as she yelled out. “I got your text!” Hopefully he’d at least jump a little. Or maybe she’d be so lucky as to get a small little scream that she could mock him for.

Out of nowhere, Nell popped into Eddie’s peripheral vision and his heart leapt into his throat. He jumped in his seat, clutching his chest with wide eyes. “Holy fucking shit,” he breathed. As he gradually calmed down, his expression of terror turned into one of utter disdain. Eddie rolled down the window, glaring up at Nell. “Hey, could you do me a favor and stand in front of my car for a second?” he asked. “I promise I’ll make it quick.”

Nell practically cackled as she watched the fear very possibly shave a few years off Eddie’s life, sticking her tongue out at him through the window. “Surprise! I could tell you’re really happy to see me. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone look like that since the time I saw a toddler witnessing their first boggart going in on the peanut butter aisle of the grocery store.” Just in case he didn’t pick up on what she was insinuating, she made sure to rub it in. “Get it? I’m comparing you to a toddler. A small child.” Rolling her eyes she took a step back from the car door, giving him room should he choose to open it. “As if your car would stand a chance against me. I’m made of steel.” For a moment she flexed her arms in the classic pose, though you couldn’t begin to see anything past the looser sleeves of her jacket. There was simply something about seeing Eddie that made her feel as if she were as careless as the day she’d left White Crest. As if all the terrible things since then hadn’t come to pass. He was clean- a slate that wasn’t marred by being present for any of the atrocities of the past year or so.

Eddie willed himself to continue glaring at her, but the truth was that it felt good to hear her laugh again. Like most, Eddie viewed high school as hell on earth, but drama class with Nell gave him a sliver of hope to hold onto each day. “You’re three feet tall, you don’t get to call me a toddler.” Eddie rolled the window up and stepped out of the car. “It might take a few tries, but you know what they say about wills and ways,” he said, finally giving in to the urge to grin. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw her—graduation, maybe. Those years were more blurs than memories at this point. “Fuck it,” he said before taking a step closer and pulling her into a hug.

“I am not!” Nell stomped petulantly against the ground, not entirely helping her case. “I’m just saying if the toddler stroller fits you- who am I to argue?” Nevertheless her own grin was still bright on her lips, feeling lighter by the second the faster she and Eddie fell into old ways. It’d been..shit- it’d been almost six years, but it felt all too easy to pick up where they’d left off. “Yeah- they say Penelope Vural has the strongest will and the best ways, and no car’s ever gonna stop her.” Her laugh was lighter, less sharp as he stepped forward for a hug, and she embraced him back without hesitation. “I can’t believe you’ve gone soft on me, Carridine,” she teased before her gaze flickered over his shoulder to the nearby cemetery. “So you’re still stupidly bent on getting yourself snacked on in there?” One of the things that she and Eddie unfortunately had in common was that they were nearly impossible to sway once they’d made up their minds to do something idiotic. And she wasn’t keen to watch while White Crest swallowed up the friend she’d only just reunited with.

She hadn’t changed, not from what he’d seen so far. It felt like stepping out of a time machine and reliving a period in his life when the most pressing issues he faced revolved around timed tests and peer pressure. “It’s your fault for leaving me, Vural,” Eddie replied, giving her a tight squeeze before stepping back and shoving his hands into his jacket’s pockets. “It’s not stupid if you film it, then it’s art,” he said as he backed up a few steps closer to the rear door of his car. He turned on his heels and pulled the hand before ducking in to grab his filming equipment. “Besides, we might not even run into anything worthwhile,” he said with a shrug as he pulled the bag’s strap onto his shoulder.

The physical scars Nell had gained since seeing Eddie were tucked away under layers of clothing, always prone to the cold. Thankfully it seemed the scars on her soul had seen fit to fade into the background for the moment being as well, leaving her to freely bask in the warmth of Eddie’s company. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about going to cry in a Subway again,” she joked dryly, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m pretty sure that makes it more stupid, actually.” If this had been six years ago she most likely would have been all for diving headlong into a cemetery, and she’d still do that if it was only her going in. But there was another life at stake here as well, and it wasn’t one she was willing to risk. “Yeah- we’ll see.” She was too jaded at this point to feel optimistic about not running into something lurking in the cemetery, already knowing vampires loved to lurk in their shadows. She’d brought a stake just in case, more than ready for if things went south.

“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it,” Eddie advised in response to her comment about shedding tears in sandwich shops. His hand raised and mimicked a flapping jaw at her next comment. Whether or not his plans were stupid, it wouldn’t stop him. His already poor decision-making continued to deteriorate with each passing day. He told Bex he would be careful but, as much as he didn’t want to disappoint her, he didn’t know the first thing about showing caution. And, frankly, he showed no interest in learning. Eddie’s outlook on life made being alive out to be more of a chore than a priceless gift.

“You wanna do an intro for the channel?” he asked, digging out his camera. “Or did you somehow become the type of person who values anonymity?” Eddie’s brow raised at Nell as he walked passed her en route to the cemetery.

“No- I don’t think I’ll be trying it, thanks. I would, but it makes it a little hard since I have something called dignity. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t expect you to be familiar with the concept. I will keep knocking it, though,” Nell teased, that same playful glint still making a home in her eyes. “Wow!” The word was stretched out as long as she could make it last, offense plain to see in the way her eyebrows had raised towards her hairline. “I can’t believe you just admitted you don’t watch any of the TikToks I make for the newspaper. You think I’d be doing that if I valued anonymity?” She still wasn’t sure how she’d managed to land the job, reveling in the pay and benefits for the minimal amount of work she did.

“You’d be lucky to have me in your intro!” In another moment she was parroting the old intro she’d seen on his channel the times she’d tuned in, letting the words fall none too sweetly as she poked fun at him. She was pretty sure the camera wasn’t even out yet- but that didn’t have her hesitating.

“Dignity,” Eddie mused, sounding as if he were trying to dredge up the definition from deep within his memory banks. “You’re right, I’m drawing a blank. Is dignity the reason you got drunk at Hayden Dane’s house party and asked everyone for soap to appease the bathroom demon? Yeah, I don’t think I have that.” He shrugged all the way up to his ears. It didn’t occur to him that a demon actually did take up roost in Hayden’s bathroom, explaining why his house burned down two days later. Eddie knew a lot about ghosts and decidedly less about infernal imps.

“There’s a pretty big difference between newspaper TikToks and showing your face on a YouTube channel exposing White Crest’s supernatural underbelly,” he replied with a glance. “Most people don’t want to be associated with it. I actually watch your content all the time. It’s… kind of how I learned you were back in town and had been for a while.” A year of radio silence. No point acting like it didn’t sting a little.

At the sound of Nell repeating his old intro back at him, Eddie clutched his chest in despair. “No,” he whined, turning to face her again. “Let it stay dead, Nell. I’m not that person anymore.” The camera in his hand raised in her direction. “Here’s your chance at YouTube fame. If you embarrass me, I’ll get your house haunted.”

Nell rolled her eyes fondly at the memory of the little Bannik that she’d found in Hayden’s bathroom, having been utterly thrilled to stumble across a demon in her drunken state. It had been in the midst of her beginning to acquaint herself with the demon species and portals— so of course she’d been all too eager to find some soap for the little creature. “You’re lucky I was there to appease the bathroom demon. You all would have been long gone if it wasn’t for my quick thinking.” Were Banniks actually all that dangerous? Absolutely not. But Eddie didn’t need to know that.

“Mhm- White Crest’s supernatural underbelly,” she repeated dryly, still not all that pleased that Eddie had made it his life’s mission to single handedly crack open supernatural secrecy. “You know that’s a great way to get people killed, right? What you’re doing with your videos and stuff?”

Stepping through the threshold of the cemetery, Nell’s mouth was already propped open to give her next quip of a reply when a chill ran down her spine. Whether it was the product of being attacked from the shadows one too many times, or an actual premonition- she was suddenly quiet. She began to scan the tombstones with a sharp eye, as if something might be lurking behind them. Then...a low snarling sound, and Nell realized she’d been right to have come as Eddie’s personal bodyguard. “Shut up,” she hissed, already trying to pinpoint where the sound was coming from, a hand slipping one of her hidden stakes from its hiding place.

Eddie eyed Nell skeptically. “Uh-huh,” he uttered. The likelihood of Nell being right about the soap-loving fiend was actually pretty high, but Eddie didn’t care to admit that. He much preferred giving her a hard time, and the feeling seemed mutual enough to dissuade any guilt.

“You know what else is a great way to get people killed? Keeping them ignorant,” Eddie retaliated without missing a beat. “So long as I try to avoid outing individuals, I’m pretty sure I’m in the clear.” This was an argument he knew well, the beginning of it anyway. People didn’t usually bother trying to correct him once they knew how firmly he stood his ground. They saw him as a lost cause, he saw them as uninformed.

Nell seemed on-edge, which Eddie didn’t understand. As much time as he spent in graveyards, he never developed a sixth sense for danger. Mostly, out of lack of interest. “Yeah, that’s a great intro,” he deadpanned. The sight of a stake made him lower his camera. “What are you doing? Now’s not the time to showcase your Buffy cosplay.” He didn’t hear the growl over his own voice.

Nell had never backed down from a fight, argument, or otherwise in her entire life, her stubbornness and determination matching Eddie’s in a way that hadn’t been fully explored quite yet. After all, they’d agreed on most things in highschool, but as was often the case with the supernatural— things got far more complicated when it entered the picture, and relationships were no exception. So she was more than ready to fire back a retort before another growl pierced the night air, and she shushed Eddie once again. “I said shu-” But her words didn’t meet and end as the spawn finally leapt from the shadows taking advantage of her momentary distraction to begin its attack.

Rolling in a smooth and practiced maneuver, Nell clutched the stake like a lifeline in her hand staying low to the ground as she readied her magic should she need it. “Don’t move,” she gave Eddie another command as she tried to draw a large circle around the spawn with her footsteps. But the thing had taken one look at the stake in her hand and decided to go for the easier target. In the blink of an eye, the spawn had shifted course, turning towards Eddie with bloodlust in its eyes.

Eddie let out a startled laugh at the sight of the vampire, his usual reaction to imminent danger. He instinctively raised the camera as Nell momentarily outsmarted the beast. Asking her where she learned a maneuver like that would have to wait.

“Gonna have to deliberately disobey that order,” Eddie said once the spawn locked onto him. A familiar surge of adrenaline flooded his system and Eddie jouked to the right, an outstretched hand commanding a small cross to fly from a nearby grave into his grip. He was lacking in the faith department, but desperate times called for desperate measures. “Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off,” he chanted as he waved it in the spawn’s direction.

The raising of his camera wasn’t lost on Nell, and she shook her head in disbelief as the spawn tore after Eddie. Really? Even now Eddie was trying to get a shot? “You can’t upload a video if you die, dumbass!” Nell yelled, already hot on the spawn’s trail while it flew after Eddie like a bat out of hell. Which...wasn’t actually all that terrible a description of the lesser vampire when Nell thought about it. At least her friend had enough sense to arm himself with some religious memorabilia, though the spawn had yet to spot it while being far too intent on having its next meal.

The creature was faster than Nell could have ever been without a hunter gene or otherwise, but thankfully she had her own tricks up her sleeve. Casting one of her oft-used spells when it came to fighting, her speed was instantly buffed, and she became a blur even quicker than the spawn. The burst was enough to get her on top of the spawn and send herself barreling into the side of it, trying to find purchase with her stake. She was by no means all that large of a projectile standing at only 5’2 and having a slight build, but the momentum she’d gathered was enough to shoot the spawn off its path. The spawn was quick to recover, snapping at the hand that held her wooden point and clamping its jaws down on her wrist. With a curse falling from her lips, the weapon was forced out of her hand.

“What the fuck?” Eddie exclaimed when a Nell-sized blur collided with the vampire. Questions piled up, giving him a reason to outlast the encounter. The spawn recalibrated with deadly quickness, and blood subsequently flowed from Nell’s wrist. As much as Eddie liked to pretend situations like this fit his laissez faire narrative, he couldn’t stand idly by while someone he cared about bled for his mistakes.

His camera hit the ground while his feet carried him to Nell’s side. With little regard for his own wellbeing, Eddie pressed the cross to the side of the spawn’s head. It sizzled against the wrinkled skin, sending the creature reeling backwards with a shriek.

“You dropped this,” Eddie said breathlessly as he floated the stake to Nell’s uninjured hand, hoping she would take hold of it. He stayed next to her, holding out the cross to hopefully keep the beast at bay long enough for Nell to plan out her next move. But it looked hungry and Eddie couldn’t imagine it had much patience.

Nell grimaced while she did her best to ignore the injured wrist, giving Eddie a grateful nod as she caught the stake he’d floated in her direction. She couldn’t deny that she was enthralled by the encounter with the spawn, and she would have been enjoying herself even more if Eddie hadn’t been involved in the crossfire. Not for the first time, she felt like she was back in the Ring, fighting for her life and the winnings of those who’d bet on her. She couldn’t deny that she missed the rush of battling for her life, and the roar of the crowd.

The cross move had been smart on Eddie’s part, and Nell supposed she should at least count herself lucky that he knew enough to know what had the ability to ward off vampires. “Just go-” she began to say, unwilling to risk Eddie’s life any further. She didn’t wait to see if he’d obeyed, once again rushing forward with a speed she shouldn’t have possessed. The stake in her good hand plunged forwards through the spawn’s chest, but her efforts were fruitless beyond making the creature even angrier. At the last second it’d darted to the side, shifting just enough for the point to miss its heart.

With a growl of frustration, Nell decided she was done with trying to hit a moving target. She kicked a leg into the air to hook it behind the thing’s head, using her momentum to swing herself up by the crook of her knee until she’d sat herself on the spawn’s shoulders, hands placed on either side of its head. “Just gotta bring the inside out,” she reminded herself as she gripped her magic tight. She could feel it’s sludge-like blood responding to her will as it’s head began to fill with more than it could hold. Pulling her hands from the creature’s head, she tugged on the blood she’d pooled, bursting the spawn’s head in an explosion of brains and viscera. With the remains of the spawn painting her front, she slipped from it’s twitching body, catching her breath while she looked to see where Eddie might have gone.

Nell told him to go, but Eddie couldn’t look away, let alone move. She climbed the vampire with precision and put a bloody end to it. He went momentarily slack-jawed. “What the fuck?” he breathed, sounding like a broken record. Eddie trudged towards Nell, remembering a final obstacle stood between him and the answers he wanted so badly. He placed the cross in his back pocket, making a mental note to return it to its rightful grave before they left, and reached out for her injured wrist.

“Can I take a look at it?” he asked timidly, wanting to make up for the harm he caused her. “Or do you have some kind of spell for that, too?” He eyed her curiously, fine with either answer. If she had a handle on her blood loss, he would need to figure out a new way to make tonight up to her, but he could work with that. “I think the best I can do is a band-aid, anyway.” He offered her an apologetic shrug.

Nell fixed Eddie with a disapproving look the moment she realized he hadn’t actually moved an inch since she’d told him to leave. “You know- usually the best way not to get killed is to listen to me.” Mindlessly, she let him take her wrist, not entirely having expected him to ask for it, but offering it nonetheless. Her head tilted in amusement as he mentioned spells, realizing he’d already pegged what was going on. “You mean you’re not buying the whole- I just got really buff after highschool or something like that?” To be fair she had gained more muscle, but it was of a leaner make than anything a bodybuilder might have.

“Well- it’s not really...a spell but-” As he eyed her wrist she willed the blood to clot where the skin had been broken, once again flexing her bloodkinesis as the wound scabbed over. “I can just do that for the most part. I never really learned a lot of healing.” She gave him a smile anyway, coming down from the high of the kill slowly but surely. “You can still put a band-aid on it though, if you want,” she teased, though thankful for his concern.

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” Eddie replied flippantly. For Nell’s sake, he kept his indifference towards death light-hearted. Whichever way the wind blew, Eddie didn’t mind much. Either he lived another day, or he didn’t. In his opinion, both options seemed eerily similar. “We can play pretend, if you want, but I’d rather pick your brain about magic.” He knew another spellcaster, Bex, but she didn’t seem as advanced as Nell. “God, how did it take me this long to figure it out?”

Nell healed herself, in a sense, and Eddie’s eyes widened with delight. “So cool,” he said, catching her gaze again. “You don’t have to coddle me. I get it, you’re all tough and scary now. Way beyond band-aids.” As he spoke, he meandered back to the grave he’d stolen from and returned the cross with a quiet apology. Ghost or not, they deserved more respect than he’d given them.

Returning to Nell, Eddie knew better than to think they’d walk back to his car without a good lecture. “I’m fully prepared to be scolded now, by the way. Hit me with your best shot.”

Eddie might have thought his jokes about dying were landing decently, but Nell’s face didn’t so much as twitch into a smile as he spoke the words. After the last year...after the last six years she knew that death wasn’t a joke. She supposed it made sense that Eddie would have a skewed vision of it as a medium, but that didn’t mean she had to encourage him. Maybe he’d feel differently if he’d watched someone he loved die, woken up covered in her blood with her headless body lying next to him on the ground. Shaking her head to dispel the dark memory, she simply sent him another stern glare. “No fun in dying, really.” She wasn’t going to entertain his frivolity when it came to his life. But magic was easier to talk about, and something that wasn’t tainted by her trauma. Her voice grew lighter again, curious to know what he himself was curious about. “Sure- what do you wanna know? Or how much do you know already? It probably just took you so long cause you couldn’t see around your giant hair,” she teased, leaning on an old laugh.

Another little smile crossed her face while she watched his reaction to the magic, always thinking it endearing the reactions of those who were less acquainted with it. “Actually I’ve always been scary and tough, thank you very much,” she joked with a wrinkle of her nose— even though she’d gotten in more than her fair share of fights in highschool.

Picking up his busted camera from the ground, Nell thumbed some dirt from it’s lens before taking a closer look, trying to figure out if a simple repair spell might have it back in working condition. He’d asked for a lecure, and she was left wondering when she’d become the kind of person who doled them out. “This isn’t a game, Eddie,” she began seriously. She should have known the levity of the start of the evening wouldn’t last. Not in a place like White Crest. “You can’t just waltz into supernatural infested areas without protection. And you shouldn’t be doing it in the first place.”

Nell didn’t laugh, but that was nothing new. Eddie understood that most people took death more seriously than he did, and he knew they had their reasons. On the other hand, their solemnity didn’t invalidate his indifference. He preferred not caring, it made life easier. The subject-change suited him just fine, however. “The conditioner I use doesn’t help either, eats at the brain cells, y’know,” he said, going along with her joke. “I’ll be honest, I don’t know much. Magic’s fascinating, but I’ve always been satisfied with the whole telekinesis thing, so I didn’t do much digging. So, feel free to talk to me like I’m an idiot, not that you need my encouragement,” he teased.

“Taking on a vampire is a little different than maiming Cindy S,” he playfully corrected her. Eddie knew Nell had never been a push-over, but this was groundbreaking as far as he was concerned.

As expected, she provided words of warning. He nodded along absently, his eyes fixed on the camera in her hands. If he kept up at this rate, he wouldn’t be filming for much longer, anyway. Lack of equipment meant lack of content. “And, why is that?” he asked curiously when she finished bending his ear. He figured he knew the reason, or at least the jist, but he wanted to give Nell the benefit of the doubt. Maybe, her reasoning wouldn’t be as boring as everyone else’s.

“We both know that’s a lie because you don’t have any brain cells to eat,” Nell commented dryly, wishing they could have stayed in the sun of their earlier conversation, the lightness of it having been reminiscent of simpler days. But these weren’t simpler days anymore, and apparently the spawn and whatever bullshit this town would toss out next hadn’t wanted her to forget that for more than the half an hour it’d taken for her and Eddie to get here and get into the cemetery. “You know telekinesis is basically just another form of magic,” Nell supplied, remembering saying something similar to Blanche. An ache of longing shot through her as she thought of her best friend, wishing they could be physically closer, but knowing that Whtie Crest had essentially sapped the flush from her friend’s cheeks, and the joy that was meant to color them. “It’s cool you can work with it though since not all mediums can.” She assumed he knew as much. “But magic…it’s built on a few core things...intention, will, focus…” She didn’t know if this was the best place for the conversation the more she looked around. For all they knew there could be another spawn lurking, or a fully fledged higher vampire who was thirsty. “We should talk about this somewhere else, though.”

“Cindy S fucking deserved it,” Nell joked in reply, honestly having half forgotten the way she’d broken the snotty girl’s nose while in highschool until Eddie brought it up. “And she was already halfway to being a bloodsucker with the way she acted.”

Nell’s annoyance grew as he seemed more preoccupied with the camera than herself. “You’re not even pretending to listen,” she accused, the displeasure plain in her voice. “Because you’re either gonna end up dead or have someone else end up dead or get hurt.” She waved her wrist as a reminder, not above using it in a moment like this. “And maybe you don’t mind being a ghost, but it’s not fucking fun for the people who care about you.”

Hearing Nell refer to something he possessed an innate knack for as ‘magic’ brought a grin to Eddie’s face, a grin that grew larger when she called attention to how rare of a gift it was. Telekinesis wore him out more often than not. Even now, he felt the dull throb of an oncoming headache making itself known. But, despite the pain and exhaustion, Nell’s opinion made him feel proud. “Yeah, it can be a little tricky,” he admitted, thinking back to Willow propelling him across her living room. “Right, right, totally. Time and place, I gotcha.” Eddie wouldn’t have minded loitering in the cemetery until daybreak, but Nell was the one recovering from a vampire bite.

“Yeah, well, all busting her face accomplished was convincing her parents to let her get a nose-job.” Eddie pursed his lips at the resurgence of long-ignored memories. Present day left a lot to be desired, but nothing could convince him to relive high school.

Eddie opened his mouth to assure Nell he usually went on these adventures alone, but her next comment caused him to immediately slam his jaw shut. His brows knitted together as he considered her. He wanted to argue, to insist that no one cared about him enough for it to matter. He would’ve used her as an example, calling attention to how long it took her to reach out to him. If people cared so much, they would act like it, and he wouldn’t feel so alone. But, admitting to feeling that way would’ve made him sound pathetic.

“I’m not gonna die, don’t be so dramatic,” he said, turning away to start walking towards his car. “I’ll try to be more careful.” Eddie hoped she wouldn’t call his bluff. “Do you need a ride?” he asked over his shoulder, eager to change the subject.

“A new nose job, and the satisfaction of leaving me and my friend alone,” Nell jokingly corrected. Cindy had been one of the ones to make fun of Blanche and the way she seemingly spoke to herself at times when addressing a ghost. She wasn’t necessarily proud of the temper she’d had in highschool, and referring to it as past tense was most likely generous— but she liked to think she’d improved from the even more violent youth she’d been. Besides, she’d break someone’s nose for Blanche any day.

“You don’t know that,” Nell rebutted instantly, still annoyed at how lightly Eddie seemed to be taking everything. “You know White Crest loves to eat people up and spit them out.” How many people had gone missing or been killed in their highschool class alone? Too fucking many. Perhaps she was leaning a little too hard on her personal feelings when it came to the matter, tired of watching people she cared about die, but if it made Eddie live another day she wasn’t opposed to tough love. “There’s a thousand and one things out there that could kill you, and you’re throwing yourself at all of them. I’m not being dramatic.”

After years of separation, Nell couldn’t tell if his words of being more careful were sincere or something he’d said to placate her, but she figured this was another conversation they shouldn’t have in the middle of the cemetery with beasts potentially lurking in the shadows. “I’m not done with you,” she clarified, not wanting him to think he’d gotten out of this. “But I’ve got my bike that I need to take home. Thanks for the offer, though.”

White Crest’s history didn’t bother Eddie. He coped with his surroundings by romanticizing how capricious the town was rather than fighting against the inevitable. When people questioned him, he often wondered what made them so certain they knew how he should live his life better than he did. Whatever it was had yet to be explained to him in understandable terms. He didn’t want to argue with Nell anymore.

“I said I’ll try to be more careful,” he reiterated.

Eddie stopped when Nell politely turned down his offer and turned to face her. It only felt right to pay proper attention to their goodbye. “Don’t mention it,” he deflected. “It was good seeing you again, Nell. Fingers crossed, next time will be a little cozier.”

#// BLESS FRANKIE for being so goOD #ch:eddie #wickedswriting #chatzy #those magic changes #suicide tw

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shanta-shinso-vantablack · 3 years

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SHINSO MEETS VANTABLACK

(Art drawn by Keiid, this art does not belong to me.)

SHINSO: After a long day Shinso dragged himself to the library. He decided to get in some studying before turning into the dorms. Ignoring the commotion of 1-B students on the other side of the room, slightly irritated, he scanned the psychology section, pressing a curved finger against his bottom lip in thought. Crouching down he reached and pulled out a book by its spine. The spine read The Lucifer Effect. It was a classic, the whole idea of it being the difference between good and evil. Shinso was obsessed with the concept, reading it about a hundred times. He felt that if he understood what exactly people perceived as evil, then he’d be able to avoid it. Shinso wasn’t keen on changing his behavior, he already felt restricted to what emotions he could actively express as to not scare or unnerve people, as stupid as it sounded. He stood up with his choice, briefly scaling the section once more. Maybe I could pick up a book on behaviors later. He thought curiously, Todoroki’s cold shoulder in mind, frustrated that he couldn’t read that icy stare. Shinso thumbed open the paperback book and skimmed it with his dead, amethyst eyes, gradually becoming more invested with each word, drowning out any other sound while taking in every ideal. VANTABLACK: Vantablack had just passed the history section as he subconsciously entered the psychology section, quickly coming to a stop. It’s Him, Vantablack thought, as he noticed the lavender haired boy. The first time he took notice of him had been at the sports festival during his match with the enthusiastic green-haired kid from class 1-A. His interest in Hitoshi Shinso had immediately peaked at that point. A quirk that allows one to control one's mind... How taboo. Shinso hadn’t won, nor did he advance in the final tournament, though even still, Vantablack knew that his quirk was one to be revered. Shinso was an anomaly, and Vantablack was all about the unknown. It fueled every fiber of his being. He made his way quietly towards Shinso, looking to see what book it was that he held in his hand. “Keh” he cackled softly, drawing Shinso’s attention. “‘The Lucifer Effect’, good choice,” Vantablack spoke with a slight nod and a grin that showed his white teeth beneath his charcoal black lips. “Though I think one that would be of great use for you would be ‘Obedience to Authority.’” Vantablack reached for it leaning in close to grab it from beside Shinso’s shoulder. He gave Shinso a smug smile as he held out the book. Vantablack was surprised that they were nearly the same height, Shinso had seemed so tall and foreboding from the stadium. “The name is Shihai Kuroiro,” he said with a sly smile. “Though please, call me Vantablack.” SHINSO: Shinso flickered his cold stare towards the source of a low cackle that snapped him back to reality. His lazy expression fell upon a boy who resembled the abyss himself, his blinding white teeth pulled into a confident grin. Who was this? Shinso thought to himself, quirking an eyebrow at the stranger, his expression being less than pleased to be bothered. He narrowed his cold stare at the boy. Obedience to Authority? What exactly was this guy implying? Shinso thought to himself, aggravated at the suggestion. Shinso shifted away awkwardly as the boy reached for a book on the shelf beside him, still a bit taken aback by the remark. Shinso sneered at the boy as he held out the book and introduced himself with a sly grin. His name was Vantablack? One of the 1-B students who were making a commotion, what did he want? “Actually, I’ve already read that. Not my style of book, er- ‘Vantablack’.” Shinso replied curtly, rubbing the back of his neck as he scanned Vantablack, studying his body language. Shinso couldn’t help but feel put off by him, something about that smirk was unnerving. His dark features absorbed any visible expression he may have had. “Is there something I can help you with?” Shinso asked with a stern tone, waving off the book he was offered. VANTABLACK: Vantablack wasn’t surprised by Shinso’s caution. He expected nothing less from the aspiring hero. This was the kind of person he had hoped he’d be. He tucked the book under his arm rather than putting it back. “What I found most fascinating about the book was how much power words hold over one's mind. You don’t even need a quirk to convince the masses to do unspeakable evil.” Vantablack smirked at the thought. He was staring directly into Shinso’s amethyst colored eyes, who’s attention appeared to finally be won. “And yet, people choose to be afraid of you because they are afraid that they would be convinced to do evil deeds.” He ran his tongue along the edges of his teeth before he continued. “What they fail to realize is that what they should be afraid of, is being evil by their own volition. All it takes is one powerful voice, and people are quick to abandon their morals. Manipulation is a powerful tool, but only to those who are weak minded. And people would rather not admit to their weaknesses.” Vantablack was pleased to see that Shinso was holding his breath. He continued on, "So now that we've established that a quirk is unnecessary to manipulate the minds of the weak, that leaves your quirk good for another thing..." Shinso's eyebrow lifted ever so slightly, "Manipulating the minds of the manipulators." SHINSO: Shinso blinked a few times, resting his expression from annoyed to confused. This guy was… something else. Who says this to a stranger? Besides even being a stranger, Vantablack’s demeanor changed drastically. Shinso thought he was just some random person trying to make friends, but he certainly seemed to have some kind of agenda. Whether it was a good or bad one, Shinso had yet to tell. Vantablack’s piercing, pale eyes gripped Shinso’s attention, wild with passion as he spoke. That mischievous smirk remained prominent against his void features. He was ready to completely ignore Vantablack, but he seemed to pique his interest. Shinso slightly lifted his eyebrows and straightened his confused expression to that of intrigue. Using his quirk to manipulate the manipulators? Shinso hummed in amusement as he topped off his speech. Someone has been watching too many action movies. Shinso thought to himself, loosening his lazy features amusingly, but something about his words stuck with him. “Quite the philosopher. Tell me, what exactly did you expect to achieve by sharing this with me?” Shinso asked rather bluntly, his curiosity piqued, flashing a challenging stare at Vantablack’s eager expression, almost daring him to continue. What exactly were his intentions? VANTABLACK: Vantablack gave a soft cackle that led into a sigh. For one who hated being mistrusted, he sure was hesitant to give an inch. “Just some food for thought,” he whispered in his raspy voice. He gorged himself with every feature of Shinso, he wanted to take it all in. From his dark circles around his eyes, to the way he carried himself. Vantablack made sure to memorize each and every detail. These details would become useful one day. How exactly, was yet to be determined. Vantblack relaxed his position, stretching as he did and let out a drawn out yawn. “Well you look busy, so I won’t disturb you any longer. Once you’ve had time to ponder over these words, I’m sure you’ll find me again.” Vantablack began to turn away when his eyes noticed one particular book on the shelf. A classic, he thought as he placed a black finger on the top of the spine and pulled it from its home. With it in hand, he turned back to Shinso and placed the book on top of his copy of ‘The Lucifer Effect’ without giving him much choice in the matter. “I also recommend this book, it’s an… Intriguing read. I think you’ll like it.” He gave a small wave over his shoulder as he sauntered away. Glancing to check Shinso’s expression as he read the title of the book he had handed him, ‘Live, Love, Laugh.’ SHINSO: Shinso’s cold, challenging expression remained unfazed by Vantablack’s cackle. Just some food for thought huh? Shinso’s mind began whirling as he digested the words, still unsure of the intention behind them. He scaled the void features of the boy beside him, his relaxed posture and now seemingly relaxed expression from what he could make out remained open and friendly, the way he spoke however, was a different story. This guy certainly enjoyed being coy. Shinso thought to himself, lowering his features back into a dead stare as he watched the white haired boy pluck a book from the shelf. Before he had the chance to wave Vantablack off he placed a book in Shinso’s hands, disregarding any protest he may have. Shinso looked down at the book, dumbfounded at his persistence. Live, Love, Laugh? He blinked, puzzled by the interaction, looking up once more to see the boy turn back to flash him a sly grin as he waved. “Thanks, I guess?” Shinso muttered under his breath, flipping the book over to skim the back, his eyes wide with curiosity and bewilderment from this brief exchange. Vantablack, whoever he was, definitely knew how to make an impression. “Might as well.” he decided, huffing in defeat as he took both books to an empty table, curiously opening the one he was given, hoping to find some answers to Vantablack’s vague words. [END SCENE]

#mha #bnha #roleplay #rp #fanfic #hitoshi shinso #shihai kuroiro #shinso #vantablack #fluff #my hero academia #mha class 1b #Keiid Shanta

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