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#directing all my brain beams at the turtles
protagonist-art · 1 year
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i started rise... it was bound 2 happen </3
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bonefall · 4 months
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post/734733274896809984/do-you-ever-worry-your-own-writing-might-come-off that makes sense. i was asking because i'm afraid of accidentally writing misogyny myself and i kind of admire what you do
Hmm... I wish I had better advice to give you on this front, but honestly, the only thing I can tell you is to consider the perspective of your female characters.
Women are people. They have thoughts and feelings of their own, so like... just let them have their own arcs. A lot of the worst misogyny in WC comes from the way that the writers just don't care about their girls (or, in the case of tall shadow, actually get undermined and forced to rewrite entire chapters), so they're not curious about their lives, or WHY they feel the way they do or what they want, or any direction for their character arcs.
Turtle Tail as an example. She'll often just end up feeling whatever Gray Wing's plot demands. She's gotta leave when Storm dumps him to make him feel lonely. She shows up again to love him in the next book. Lets her best friend Bumble get dragged back to Tom the Wifebeater, but is sad enough about her death to be "unreasonably angry" with Clear Sky, and then calms down and accept Gray Wing is right all along.
And then she dies, so he can have his very own fridge wife.
In this way, Turtle Tail's just being used to tell Gray Wing's story. They're not interested in why she would turn on Bumble, or god forbid any lingering negative feelings for how she didn't help her, or even resentment towards Clear Sky for killing her or Gray Wing for jumping to his defense. She isn't really going through her own character arc.
She does have personality traits of her own, don't misunderstand my criticism, but as a character she revolves around Gray Wing.
So, zoom out every now and then, and just ask yourself; "Whose story is being told by what I wrote? Do my female characters have goals, wants, and agency, or are they just supporting men? How do their choices impact the narrative?"
But that's already kinda assuming that you already have characters like Turtle Tail who DO have personalities and potential of their own. Here's some super simple and practical advice that helped me;
Tally the genders in your cast. How many are boys, how many are girls, how many are others?
And take stock of how many of those characters are just in the supporting cast, and compare that to the amount you have in the main cast.
If you have a significant imbalance, ESPECIALLY in the main cast, fire the Woman Beam.
It's a really simple trick to just write a male character, and then change its gender while keeping it the same. I promise women are really not fundamentally different from men lmao. You can consider how your in-universe gender roles affect them later, if you'd like, but when you're just starting to wean yourself off a "boy bias" this trick works like a charm.
Also you're not allowed to change the body type of any girl you Woman Beam because I said so. PLEASE allow your girls to have muscles, or be fat, or be old, or have lots of scars. Do NOT do what a cowardly Triple A studio does, where the women all have the same cute or sexy face and curvy body while they're standing next to dwarves, robots, and a gorilla.
Or this shit,
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If you do this I will GET you. If you're ever possessed by the dark urge, you will see my face appear in the clouds like Mufasa himself to guide you away from the path of evil.
Anyway, you get better at just making characters girls to begin with as time goes on and you practice it. It's really not as big of a deal as your brain might think it is.
Take a legitimate interest in female characters and try not to disproportionately hit them with parental/romance plots as opposed to the male cast, and you'll be fine. Don't think of them as "SPECIAL WOMEN CHARACTERS" just make a character and then let her be a girl, occasionally checking your tally and doing some critical thinking about their use in the story.
(Also remember I'm not a professional or anything, I'm just trying to give advice)
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submission4 · 1 year
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The Case of the Uncool Ghouls, Part 5
“So, my little guests, are you comfortable, bound as you are, in my domain?” came the Bishop of the Unholy Cross’ deep and sinister voice as Daphne, now joined by Velma stared back up at him. “You should have fled while you had the chance - like countless other snoopers.” The girls fixed the crazed priest with a ‘we’ve-heard-it-all-before-creep’ look. “I see you wenches are brazen,” the Bishop remarked smiling crookedly, “but you will regret your insolence.” He turned, laughing manically accompanied by his two supernatural goons.
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“What ghost uses the word ‘snoopers’?” Daphne asked derisively, after the horror show had departed into the dark, “at least not before we unmask him!” Velma remained tight lipped. “They may be fakes, but we are in a fix, Daphne,” she said seriously, “but I think I may be working these ropes loose.” Daphne clutched her friend’s hand. “Although Fred isn’t here to rescue us, I trust your scientific brain to get us out of this, Velma!” the young beauty whispered. “We don’t need Fred,” responded the bespectacled ghost hunter sharply, grunting with exertion, “we just need to escape and find a way to trap these costumed clowns! There!” Velma beamed in triumph as the ropes fell away. “And I have a plan!” she proclaimed turning to release her red haired friend, now smiling with relief.
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Velma had her large magnifying glass out, following the ectoplasmic gloop along the wall of the corridor. “This belongs to the Mad Hatter, the crazy ghost who caught me.” the turtle necked girl stated confidently and clearly. “We are on the right track.” Daphne looked up anxiously. In the flickering light of a wall torch, she suddenly saw a terrifying sight - the cackling white face of the black hatted ghoul they had first encountered. “Velma! Look!” she cried, pointing a shaking hand in the direction of the apparition. Velma followed her companion’s gaze and swallowed. “Run!!” she commanded. The girls took off.
Sources: Jeff Zoet visuals; Spotify; Pinterest and Etsy
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remmushound · 3 years
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2012 casey being friends with 2018 donnie. Just think about it, please.
@assanmaharielsreblogs Casey poked his nose into Donatello’s lab to sneak a peek at the dorky turtle. At least, the turtle was dorky in his world. Here, he didn't know what the turtle was like. All he knew was that April seemed to have some sort of obsession with this Donatello (probably because of the eyebrows) and that couldn’t stand! Not while he was around and had been trying to woo April for years! He wasn’t going to lose her to a mutant turtle from another world, of all things!
“HEY!” Casey puffed out his chest and stomped into the room with a cocky bravery.
Donatello didn't look up from his screen, his three-fingered hands working a mile a minute on codes Casey didn't bother trying to decipher. “Hello, genderbent Cass who doesn’t live here nor sleep in this room.”
“I…” Casey was at a loss for a moment, an exhale making the exaggerated size of his chest fall back to normal as the cogs in his brain stuttered. “I have something to say to you, mister—!”
He walked up to Donatello and pointed an accusatory finger in his direction, but when Donatello stood up, the young human quickly flinched away.
“Oh god you’re taller than I expected.”
Donatello raised a painted-on brow and motioned to Casey with a bored expression on his face.
“And what, dear knock-off Jones, do you have to say to me?”
For a moment, Casey truly forgot why he was there. Come on! He told himself, this is Donnie! Sure, this version was taller and calmer (and frankly hotter) but it was still a Donnie! And no man of the Jones family would be afraid of some dorkish, sewer-dwelling mutant!
“Now you listen here, foureyes!” Casey shoved his finger in Donatello’s face. “April is my girl! Not yours!”
“Okay.” Was Donatello’s only response.
“Okay?” Casey repeated with a frustrated growl, “That’s all you have is an ‘okay’?!”
“What do you want, exactly?” Donatello crossed his arms.
“What I want is for you to leave April alone!”
“Alright.” Donatello shrugged and sat back down in his chair, immediately getting back to work as if nothing had happened.
“Wait, really?” Casey’s voice fell to a soft whisper as he didn't know what to do.
“Sure.” Donatello shrugged, “Don’t really care for your April much, anyway.”
“Hey-” Casey started to growl a warning.
“Don’t get your hockey pucks in a twist. I’m not interested your April.”
“You’re not?”
“No. I couldn’t care less if she or anyone else is interested in me, because I’m not interested in them. Unless their name is Atomic Lass, at which point I would gladly settle down and have three point five kids, any questions?” He said the last part so fast that Casey could hardly keep up.
“I have several.” Casey raised his hand.
“You get one.”
“Okay.” Casey took a moment to decide in his head which question to ask, before he finally pointed beyond Donatello, “Is that a jetpack?”
~~~~
“WAHOOOOOOO!” Casey didn't care that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing. It was fun, and that was all that mattered. The freezing wind buffeting his face, the feeling of weightlessness. Nothing beneath his feet— nothing to support him apart from the purple jetpack strapped securely to his back.
Donatello zoomed after him with far more skill and prowess than the young human, but with no less free-willed enjoyment as they flew around the skies of new york.
“THIS IS AMAZING!”
Casey gave a surprised shout and laughed as he flipped over awkwardly, and Donatello flew over to easily right him.
“Ohhhhh!” Casey looked down and his body gave a dangerous shudder at how high they were.
“Careful.” Donatello drifted past him casually, “If you get sick up here, it might reach terminal velocity by time it hits the ground.”
“Wait, really?”
Donatello narrowed his eyes. “No. But we will have a very angry vomit-covered New Yorker on our hands.”
“Oh.”
“And nobody wants that.” Donatello crossed his hands behind his head as he flew, “If you think flying is cool, then just watch this— oh, and don’t try to copy it or we’ll have to scrape you off the pavement.”
The wings of Donatello’s jetpack retracted and the turtle fell with a scream of Fibonacci! His body naturally positioned into a dive, as if jumping from a board into a pool. Casey watched Donatello closely and roared cheers of encouragement at the daring fest, but when Donatello just kept falling with no signs of starting to pull up, Casey couldn't help the anxiety that grew in his chest. Halfway down, and further still. Lower than birds flew, and lower than buildings. Just as Casey was about to brace himself for an imminent impact, Donatello started to grow once more as he pulled up just before hitting the ground and accented in seconds
Donatello was back where he started in no less than two heartbeats. He shot past Casey and even higher than the Jones as he gave a whooping cry.
“And that’s how you do it Hamato-style babyyy!”
“Dude!” Casey flew higher to meet him, “That was wicked cool!”
“Well, I don’t like to brag— oh, who am I kidding? Yes I do! Praise me!” His eyes shimmered with excitement as he beamed and stared straight into Casey’s eyes.
“My Donnie could never be this cool.” Casey laughed at how adorable Donatello was with his pleading eyes. “He’s too busy trying to impress April to do anything like this! He makes charts and everything!”
“Hey, never discount the power of charts, my black-eyes fellow. They can be very useful. Though I must admit that Simp Me is rather disappointing.”
Casey almost choked on his spit as he laughed, clutching his stomach as his sides came into stitches.
“I mean, with a mind as big as a Donnie’s, why would he use it to impress a girl of all things? Seems kinda obsessively creepy, yeesh.” Donatello shivered.
“Well, he may be creepy, but you’re pretty cool, Dee.” Casey gave Donatello a playful punch on the shoulder as he annunciated the nickname in a teasing tone
Donatello brushed his shoulder off, but the smile on his face betrayed his enjoyment at the touch. “And you’re tolerable, Jones.”
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yourmoonanon · 3 years
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inbetween the inbetween | zero
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a/n: this will eventually be a 18+ fic. minors DNI. inspired by the inbetween. wc: 1.5k
Your world was on fire.
You watched as the explosives rained down one after another after another. What was once your home now lay a crater, growing deeper and deeper by the second. Unrecognizable. That seemed to be the only word that filled your mind - the only comprehensible comment that flickered through unintelligible screams resting against your vocal cords. The roaring flames licked and devoured every tree, ignoring the type and burning them to ash all the same. Smoke billowed into the sky, blending into the dark gray of night and robbing the view of the stars.
From inside the depths of war, someone screamed. Another laughed. 
If you hadn't sat on top of this very hill just the other day, on the way home from running errands for Karl, you wouldn't even be able to envision where your house once stood. Karl. The second word found you since the attack began, forming on your lips like a chant. He said to wait right here — how long ago was that? Where was he? You quickly found yourself in a state of panic, his name but a whisper until you could find your grip on reality again.
"Karl?"
With a short but blinding light, the man apparated in front of you, covered in soot and unrecognizable blood. His eyes were dull. You could tell he was close to breaking. This wasn't supposed to happen, he had said. Not in this timeline.
He gripped your wrist tightly, voice cracking as he yelled over the sound of destruction just meters away.
"Do you trust me?"
A loud crumble of foundation knocked you off your feet, back hitting the hot ground with a sharp crack. To your left, you could see nothing but orange and red flicker wickedly behind the thick clouds of smoke, ash invading your lungs as if the small remnants of wood and fabric were fresh air. There was no saving it. No saving anything — no saving anyone. The realization of loss hit you all at once, hands flying forward to fist handfuls of his charred sweater. You clung to him like he was the last piece of hope you had. At that moment, he was. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, a shaky prayer leaving your lips.
"Get us out of here."
Your body felt sickly sticky as the blinding light occurred again. Immense heat turned to a slight breeze, the crackling sounds of burning trees transforming into a soft piano melody. You cringed as you opened an eye, the darkness of night melting into something brighter — perhaps too bright. Pure, white quartz lined your vision in every direction, end rods lighting up a path deeper into the building Karl teleported you to. It hurt your neck to look all the way up, but from what you could crane, the quartz above you formed intricate arches, holes carved away to let in the sunlight. Through the beams of light, you could see the building creep even higher, breaking off into several thin points that poked at the clouds. The sweet smell of honeysuckle and fresh bread erased the previous stench of burnt wood and despair. The contrast between this place and the hell you just went through had your mind reeling. If minutes ago, you were in hell, then...
Karl dust off his white sweater - wasn't it purple just seconds ago? - as he threw you a wry smile.
"Welcome to the castle."
A handful of strangers dressed in all white ignored you as they passed, determined faces set on getting where they need to be. No halos, no wings.
"Where are we?"
"The Inbetween."
"The — what?"
"The Inbetween." He repeated. "It's a place for people like me to rest between timeline hopping."
You gave him a slow blink, brain searching for the right thing to say.
"So, we're not... dead, are we?"
He chuckled, shaking his head.
"We're alive, but..."
A hand sheepishly scratched at the back of his neck as his face flushed red. Your heart lurched in response, brain flooding with assumptions.
"But?"
"You're going to hate me," he mumbled, pulling himself up and offering you a hand.
As you took it, the sound of footsteps boomed against the tight walls of the castle hallway. Your heart raced as they grew closer, stumbling forward against Karl's body as if to say - Let's go, you idiot, run! Despite your wishes, he stared anxiously at the figure approaching, a tall stature with broad shoulders. The thick cape dragging behind it created a constant and personal breeze, tousling long hair as it walked. The sound of chains clinking, metal on metal joined in with its steps as the figure approached, sun revealing the potential threat in a parade of golden light.
Oh, fuck.
You felt your blood boil, breathing in heavy as the past hour of events hit you at once. First, your best friend admits that he's an immortal time traveler and that the past week you've been spending time with the traveler version of him, not your timelines version of him – whatever the hell that meant. Then, your town is crushed to ruins by the psychopath who escaped prison and his piglin counterpart. You're whisked away to an entirely new dimension, only to be confronted by the man who caused it all? Your whole body shakes, adrenaline and bile rising.
"Technoblade." Karl nodded in acknowledgment at the man, puffing out his chest.
You needed answers, now.
"Why the fuck is he here?"
A soft growl left the beast of a man as you glared each other down.
"You better be thanking me, little bird."
"Thanking you? You absolutely ruined my village, you sick bast—"
A sweaty palm pushed against your lips, and your feet were lifted from the ground as Karl picked you up, walking and setting you down several steps away.
"Listen to me. I know you're mad, I know you hate him a-and now you probably hate me too, but it was the only way! I had to protect you! I have to protect you!"
You snarled, pulling away from Karl and folding your arms across your chest. Whether it was a self-preservation tactic or a controlled tactic to prevent yourself from ripping the pink prince's canines out with your bare hands, even you couldn't tell. You couldn't help but feel sick at Karl's words. He seemed so genuine, yes, but he wasn't him. He wasn't the person you grew up with, wasn't the young boy who always made sure you had a friend, even when you claimed you didn't want one. The boy that begged you to play pirates every day for a whole summer at age seven, convincing you sticks were swords and turtles were your ship crew. He wasn't the one who patched your wounds after drunken tavern fights with ex-flings, shaking his head as he worked, mumbling how 'you always chose the wrong ones.' He wasn't the boy whose imagination got him in trouble everywhere he went, yet still stuck by your side nonetheless. That boy you knew was not him, no matter how similar his gentle touch and violet eyes were.
"You expect me to be safe here with Technoblade? Did you forget he just helped Dream destroy the entire village? My village? Once you leave, he'll kill me himself and sell my corpse for less than two gold! Copper coin even!"
Karl's mouth opened before a shrill beep filled all three pairs of ears, the watch on his wrist screaming for his attention.
"Look, I have to go. You said you trust me — please trust me."
Karl's hands fumbled out as he pulled you in for a rushed hug, holding you suffocatingly close before his body faded to nothing, disappearing to another timeline. You stared into the now empty space, hands slumping to your sides as helplessness battled its way in. No, you thought. We need a plan. The people in white, they were going somewhere. There must be a way back, a way out —
"You just gonna stand there all day?"
Techno stood against the archway frame, hands folded impatiently across his chest. He looked just as unhappy to be in this situation as you were.
"Got somewhere better to be?" You spit back, voice laced with venom.
He hummed in agreement, dismissing your tone and pushing himself off the wall, starting past you, walking with leisure. If he didn't ruin your life - didn't aid in Dream's escapade back into power, providing him with the materials to set your world ablaze, you might have mistaken Technoblade for something other than an asshole. Perhaps royalty -- maybe even a deity. You couldn't tell if the way he held himself despite the odds, chin held high and footsteps loud and commanding, would work in your favor or against.
He stopped once more, not even bothering to spare you a glance over his shoulder.
"Are you coming?"
"Where?"
"To explore. Probably gonna' be here a while."
Answers. Focus on getting the answers first, and revenge later.
Feet dragging along the floor and a heart with nothing more to lose, you followed.
 ---
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reinerispretty · 4 years
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rotations. (zuko x f!reader) pt20
HELLO and thank you for reading!!! i appreciate you very very much :D
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It was exhausting to put on a beaming smile and cheerful attitude to interact with others, but (Y/N) had learned at a very young age that first impressions were everything. If the leaders of other nations liked her, their chances of working together with the Fire Nation to rebuild the world were doubled.
(Y/N) was having a miserable time. The night that was supposed to be the biggest celebration in over a century was now soiled. She had spent so hard working on it and making sure that everything was absolutely perfect, and now she wasn’t even enjoying herself. 
She sat at the large rectangular table before the crowd. Zuko was to her left, Katara to her right. On Zuko’s other side sat Mai. The two were engaged in casual conversation that (Y/N) was trying her best to drown out. It was hard to maintain a pleasant expression on her face when her heart had been broken just hours ago, but she was managing. The purpose of this night was more than a celebration after all, it was a political step forward in the right direction and (Y/N) wouldn’t let her sour mood get in the way of that. 
Still, Katara’s constant worried looks weren’t helping her mood either. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Katara whispered. (Y/N) nodded and gave her a tight smile. 
“Just great,” She said, picking at her food with her chopsticks. She had lost all appetite for the night. She couldn’t wait until she could go to her room and break down in tears, or set something on fire, or both. But she had a long night ahead of her. 
After everyone ate, she made her way through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries with everyone she passed. It was exhausting to put on a beaming smile and cheerful attitude to interact with others, but (Y/N) had learned at a very young age that first impressions were everything. If the leaders of other nations liked her, their chances of working together with the Fire Nation to rebuild the world were doubled. 
The moon was high by the time the crowd dispersed, leaving only (Y/N), her friends, Zuko, and Mai. Zuko walked up to (Y/N) with Mai in tow. She put on her best smile, but it faltered as she saw their hands intertwined. “I’m going to go to Mai’s house for a little while.” 
She nodded, crossing her arms. “Don’t forget you have a reparations meeting in the morning.” Zuko smiled. 
“I know, I know.” He said goodbye to his friends and the couple walked out of the palace gates. 
(Y/N) turned around to find her friends solemnly staring at her. “I can show you guys to your rooms,” She said softly, before leading them into the palace. Their rooms were on the same hall as hers, and she let them know this and said that if they needed anything, to just knock on her door. 
Sokka paused with his hand on the doorknob to his room. His blue eyes met (Y/N’s) and he gave her a small smile. “You did a really great job today, (Y/N).” He hugged her tightly and (Y/N) tried her hardest to suppress the tears that were forming in her eyes. 
“Thanks, Sokka,” she said as they parted. Hurriedly, so no one would see her cry, she walked to her room and slammed the door shut behind her. Wringing her hands together, she shook them out and lifted her head up to the ceiling, furiously blinking them so the tears wouldn’t fall out. She had promised herself that she wouldn’t cry over Zuko anymore and while she felt her resolve slowly breaking, she was trying to let this moment pass. 
(Y/N) changed out of her clothes and into a silk pajama set. She brushed out her hair and scrubbed her nails clean to distract herself. She almost felt fine again until she heard a knock on her door. 
“Come in,” She called, and Katara walked in quietly. The Water Tribe girl didn’t even have to say anything, but (Y/N) saw the sympathy in her eyes. She turned her head away quickly so Katara wouldn’t see the tears that flowed freely down her cheeks. 
“Oh, (Y/N),” Katara sighed, sitting next to her friend. She wrapped her arms around (Y/N) and held her close. 
“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” (Y/N) said, wiping furiously at her eyes. “It’s not like he owes me anything. I should’ve known that just because we were betrothed as kids doesn’t mean anything now.” She sniffled loudly. “I shouldn’t be crying. I should be happy because we’re friends again.” 
“Whatever you’re feeling is how you should be feeling,” Katara said. “You’re crying because you’re hurt, (Y/N), and that’s okay. Don’t try to minimize your emotions.” 
“I just feel so stupid and ridiculous, Katara. And it makes me mad that I’m crying over him again.” 
“(Y/N), you have the biggest heart out of everyone I’ve met. You might make yourself seem rough on the outside, but on the inside you’re just as soft as unfried dough. You care a lot about Zuko, but that doesn’t make you stupid or ridiculous. The fact you held it together for as long as you did just shows how strong you are. And, for the record, we were all surprised when they came out together.” 
“Really?” Katara nodded. 
“Yeah! Anyone with a brain can see how good you guys are together. If Zuko doesn’t see that, it’s his loss.” (Y/N) smiled softly at her friend. Her words didn’t completely convince her, but they did make her feel a lot better about the situation. She wrapped her arms around Katara’s middle and hugged her. 
“Thank you, Katara. I don’t know what I would do without you.” Katara squeezed her tightly. 
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, either.” They pulled away from the hug, both wearing a smile on their faces. “Want me to stay with you tonight?” 
“Yes, please,” (Y/N) sighed. “I’m going to need someone to listen to me analyze every interaction between Zuko and I.” Katara laughed, which in turn made (Y/N) laugh too. 
---
(Y/N) woke up late the next morning. The night’s events had completely exhausted her, so she figured she deserved a day to sleep in. She didn’t wake up until the sun was high in the sky, and didn’t leave her room until much later than that. She searched all over the palace for her friends and eventually found them all sitting under the big tree beside the turtle duck pond. 
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Toph said. The small girl lay in the grass, her eyes closed as she pointed her face toward the sun. 
“Really, it’s good afternoon,” Aang grinned. (Y/N) chuckled. 
“A long day of planning wiped me out.” 
“You did an amazing job, (Y/N),” Zuko said. He was propped up against the big tree. His eyes looked up at her as if he was expecting her to sit beside him, but instead she chose to sit next to Katara and Sokka. 
“Everything alright?” Sokka asked. “Your eyes are kind of puffy.” Katara elbowed him in the ribs. “What? What’d I say?” 
“I’m just tired, Sokka.” To emphasize this, she let out a yawn. 
“I can ask the servants to get you tea,” Zuko said. “Maybe some green tea to help you wake up?” 
“That won’t be necessary,” (Y/N) said. Zuko was taken aback at how she refused to look at him when she spoke. 
An awkward silence fell over the group, but it was quickly broken by Katara. “I can’t believe you both grew up here. It’s so lavish!” 
“Sometimes I forget about it too,” (Y/N) admitted. “Things were a lot different the last time I was here. You won’t believe how many portraits of Ozai we had to take down. The man only got more vain as the years went on.” 
The group giggled before diving into a conversation about their upcoming plans for the future of the world. Zuko and (Y/N) planned on removing the Fire Nation colonies from the Earth Kingdom, to keep the nations separate like they were before. It was named the Harmony Restoration Movement and had been something that Zuko and other government officials had the task of coming up with. 
Zuko and (Y/N) also had the tough job of handling those in the government who remained loyal to Ozai. Having a government that sided with hate and imperialism would not do well with the plans they had for the future. 
Their talks ended as the sun began to set, which signaled the departure of their friends. They all walked together to Appa and said their goodbyes. (Y/N) hugged each of her friends tightly and leapt onto Appa and hugged Momo before they departed. She and Zuko watched sadly as their friends flew away. 
“I really like all of them,” Zuko said. “But it’s also nice when it’s just you and me.” (Y/N) gave a grunt in response and walked back into the palace. 
“I’ll be taking dinner in my room tonight, please,” She told one of the servants. 
---
Few months had passed since Zuko’s coronation and much had changed. The Harmony Restoration Movement was an effort to remove the Fire Nation colonials from the Earth Kingdom that was heavily supported by the Earth King and his men, but not so much from Fire Nation officials. (Y/N) and Zuko had to take their time figuring out which of Zuko’s cabinet members were still loyalists to Ozai’s cause and relieve them of their duties. It resulted in many threats of harmful action, but after surviving war, (Y/N) found that there was little she feared now. 
After a particularly long meeting between her and Zuko, (Y/N) walked down the lantern-lit halls of the palace. Ever since he had started dating Mai again, (Y/N) had chosen to distance herself from him. While she was happy that he was happy, she found it far too painful to watch the two be together, and she did not want to intrude on their relationship by any means. So, she decided to take a break from Zuko. Their friendship had suffered because of it, but (Y/N) figured that it was best for right now. She still remained his closest confidant and his trusted advisor. It hurt to be so close to Zuko yet feel so far away, but she was no stranger to pain. 
She rounded the corner to the hallway that led to her room and hummed an old Fire Nation lullaby as she approached her door. Entering her room, she readied herself for bed and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the soft, fluffy pillows. 
When (Y/N) awoke, it was not to the rising sun shining through her windows, but rather the sound of glass breaking. Confusedly, she blinked the sleep from her eyes and peered around the room. It was hard for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. “Zuko?” She called out. 
She leaned over in her bed to light the lantern on the nightstand and immediately felt a strong hand twist itself into her hair. She shouted in pain, contorting herself to kick at whoever was grabbing her. Her feet found purchase on the person’s chest and kicked them back into the wall. (Y/N) freed herself and quickly lit all of the lanterns in her room with firebending. 
There, on the other side of her bed, stood a masked assailant wearing all black. In each of their hands was a sharp dagger that glinted in the firelight. (Y/N’s) eyes widened in fear. “Who are you?” She demanded. 
“I was sent here to punish you for your crimes against the Fire Nation,” The assassin said. (Y/N) furrowed her brows. 
“Crimes? What crimes?” One of the daggers was flung at her head. She had just enough time to dodge it before it sank into the wall beside her. She felt the anger rise in her. “Guards!” She shouted before blasting fireballs at the person. They dodged them with ease, flipping out of the way of her attacks. 
The assassin darted to the window to escape, but (Y/N) was just as quick. She ran across the room and launched herself at them, tackling them to the ground. The two rolled around the floor, kicking and punching at each other. (Y/N) hissed as her arm was cut by the sharp dagger. Eventually, the assassin over powered her and sat on top of her. (Y/N) used every bit of strength she had in her to hold onto their arms and prevent the dagger from piercing through her chest. Just as she was about to lose her grip, a blast of fire knocked the assailant off of her. 
(Y/N) turned to see Zuko standing in the door. A few seconds later, guards flooded in after him and apprehended the person who had tried to assassinate her. Zuko ran to her side as she stood. “Are you okay?” He asked urgently. She shook her head and removed her hand from the cut on her arm. It bled heavily, droplets of blood dotting the hardwood floors of her bedroom. 
Zuko took off his shirt and ripped it down the middle to use as a makeshift bandage. He tied it tightly around her wound and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Come on, I’ll take you the the physician.” He turned to the guards. “Throw them into prison. I don’t want them to ever see the light of day again.” 
---
Tag List!
@afxndommess , @xapham , @thanosismybitxh , @outerxorbit , @thenerdiverse , @himawarichild , @welovediaaxx , @justahockeylover , @loganrwebb , @awesomelupe , @cirtruss , @eridanuswave , @aroyaldarknessblr , @theinfernalmemes , @akariblue , @julietvsanchez05 , @harryisthesunshine , @prospekt-42 , @kindxrjcy , @lunariasilver , @lovepsychicbitch , @mcallmestiles , @simply-stanning , @helbreajs , @shephard17895 , @astroninaaa , @leiaofthestars , @miskwaadesiwag , @art-flirt , @musicalkeys , @aangsty-sokkasm , @we-lucky-few , @vgirl-10123 , @ella-solei , @davnwillcome , @valiantprincessthea , @errrrca , @hahaimstoopid , @kamahriii , @michelletc , @unseasoned-emo-bitch , @maybe-a-fangurl , @niramoon , @hyluas , @jvghead-jones-iii , @youneedmemanidonotneedyou , @luleck , @toasted-crispy-emo27 , 
723 notes · View notes
mrsgiovanna · 2 years
Note
- Inside Giorno's mind -
Angel Giorno: Hm, this pile of paperwork makes our brain a bit stressed out. Even our hair gets a bit dishelved in finishing it all.
Devil Giorno: Well, this is why we have our little daydreams and that's why we space out lots! It gets our brain back on track!
Haruno: Well, we're nearly done! *gets a big old fluffy dream cloud with little pink hearts and an extremely sweet memory CD on top* Let's do it!
All three: *constructing and making a really cute sweet daydream about the team* *humming as they work*
- Giorno's daydream -
The team: *are mermaids and mermen*
Giorno: *gives Bri a beautiful conch shell* This is for you, mia Bella!
Bri: *kisses Giorno* Oh mi Tesoro! It's amazing!
- Outside -
Giorno: *stressed in completing the work* *eyes widen before they glaze over sweetly in a daze*
Narancia: Hey dude! I know you're stressed and all but... *looks at Giorno*
Giorno: *smiling, still in deep daydream mode* *humming Under The Sea under his breath*
Omg Merman Giorno ⭐ it's okay if his hair gets all messy, it's cute.
Narancia: oi, Gio? *nudges him slightly*
Giorno: Ah, Narancia, sorry what did you need?
Narancia: your approval for this... where were you man?
Giorno: far, far away... we need a vacation when things slow down
Narancia: oh yeah?! Somewhere sunny where we can go jetskiing?
Giorno: *smiles* yeah, sounds perfect... here this looks fine. Good job Narancia, Bucciarati mentioned you were excelling and we can all see it.
Narancia: Bucciarati said that? *beaming*
Giorno: *smiles* he did
Narancia: that's great! Well thanks, you can return to Bri-land now
Giorno: *blushes* don't let Polnareff hear that, we just got him to put Ponareff-land on ice until we sort things out with Passione...
Polnareff: *from the turtle* so is it back on the table?
Narancia: okay byeee *rushes off*
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Okay I went in a strange direction again 😅, lol that was cute to think about though, tysmmmm my lovely, stay safe 💗🌟💝💫💟⭐🐞❤🕊
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milkytheholy1 · 4 years
Text
2/2 OF Just Trying To Relax
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The sun beamed through your poorly made curtains, as loud car horns could be heard disrupting your sleep. A groan was released from your throat as your eyes slowly blinked open, you gradually started to lean up from your couch and glanced around the place. Pizza boxes and two large bottles littered the floor as well as some CDs and cushions, you groaned again at the mess and rubbed your forehead in pain. I'm never drinking again you promised to yourself.
You steadily made it to your bathroom and stared at yourself in the mirror, god you looked awful. Your hair was shooting out in different directions, some dried drool was down your chin and partially on your shirt, you didn't get all your makeup off apparently as some black mascara was smugged around your eyes like a panda. You shivered as you continued to gawk at yourself, pushing yourself away from that disgrace you shuffled into your kitchen and poured yourself a cup of water from the tap.
Rummaging around in one of the bottom cupboards for some magical hangover pills, ass in the air you failed to notice the looming presence behind you. "Well, this is a strange hello." The voice said, in your startled state you hit your already throbbing head against the cupboard standing up straight to face the perpetrator. Leo, who was just smirking, quickly frowned and came over to you apologising over and over again for scaring you. You pushed it off as though it was nothing and apologised for your appearance "No need to apologise, I am definitely not complaining." He teased, your face flushed pink as you eyed him and sipped your water.
"So," he started walking around your living room flicking open the pizza boxes "How was last night?" he said with a smile, your eyes widened "What did I do?" you asked already embarrassed. He chuckled and picked up one of the empty bottles on the floor, inspecting it like you tried to do last night, he glanced at you then back at the bottle "Well, it's not so much what you did than what you said." Your breathing started to pick up while you followed with your eyes every movement the red-stripped turtle made. You placed a hand on your hip trying to look calm and collected when really your brain was overheating like crazy "Okay then what did I say?"
He waited for a few minutes, carefully going over his words. Okay just tell her you know who her crush is and then when she says the name you can either be disappointed or happy, yeah let's do that-
"I know I'm your favourite turtle."
-Idiot! Did I really just do that, come on man you had a plan how do you mess up that bad! Leo scolded himself mentally while awaiting some sort of response from you. You stared off into the carpet a smile breaking out onto your face at least it wasn't the other thing you praised. You waltzed up to him "Well, of course, you're my favourite turtle doofus" you flicked his forehead. You plopped yourself on the couch "Gee if that's all I said I must be a pretty bad drunk." You joked. "Yeah, well that's not everything." He continued.
You looked at him confused "What do you mean, there's more?" Leo sat next to you rubbing the back of his neck nervously "You maybe also sorta told me who your crush was." He was lying of course but you didn't know that he just needed the name; your face darkened rivalling Raph's red mask. You began to stutter and jumble your words, not making eye contact with Leon "I'm sorry you had to find out that way," Leo looked at you confused, what were you on about?
"Well, what do you think?" You asked him, he looked alarmed for a minute. He glimpsed at every object in the room trying to avoid your gaze, his throat was suddenly very dry. "I-I-what?" He questioned, still very confused by what had just proceeded. You stared blankly at him "Leo, I like you." You stated, his mouth was agape as his cheeks turned to a bright red matching the stripes that adorned his face. At least it wasn't any of his brothers.
Leo had been quiet for a few minutes and that worried you, he was never quiet. His name had softly fallen from your lips bringing his attention back to you, "You probably hate me now right? I made it weird between us." You pitied yourself. You really shouldn't be having this type of conversation when you're still hungover. "Hate you?" Leon laughed, a hand place over his eyes as he rolled onto his back in full hysterics. "How could I hate you when I like you too, doofus."
"Wait, really?" You asked, hopeful. Leo nodded his head repeatedly smiling at you, even in your current state. "So there's nothing weird between the two of us?" You gestured with a finger the space between you both, Leon simply shook his head as he shuffled closer to you "So there's going to be a movie in the park tonight, pretty sure it's a Lou Jitsu film. Would you like to go with me to see it?" You pondered over his proposal, you were obviously going to say yes but seeing this confident, cocky turtle become a puddle of anxiety-ridden mush was kind of amusing to you.
"I'd love to Leonardo." Using his full name brought a smile to his face, he leaned in closer to you, you copying his actions. "Is this okay?" He whispered you hummed a response as your lips connected in a sweet embrace.
Later that day Leo went back to the lair, a proud grin on his face as his brothers stared at him in confusion. "What's up with little miss sunshine?" Donnie asked sarcastically, Leo turned and finger gunned Donnie "Nothing, can't I just be happy dear brother of mine?"
"Oh, something good happened! What happened? Tell me everything!" Mikey launched himself onto Leon, grabbing him by the shoulders. Leo laughed "Okay chill guys, I'll spill, I'll spill." He shoved Mikey off of him and leaned against his sword, a smug look on his face. "Who's got two thumbs and a date tonight? This guy!" He pointed at himself, Donnie groaned "Seriously? Who would date you?" Leon turned to face Donnie "The most beautiful woman in all of New York City." He gushed.
"The statue of liberty?"
"Mikey!"
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charincharge · 4 years
Text
Cruel Summer, Part 6
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cruel summer masterlist
AN: Today was ~dramatic~ -- I woke up to learn that someone was posting this fic on AO3 and passing it off as their own. It was a BUMMER, to say the least, and it really threw me off. I haven’t posted fic in a decade, and I was really using this as a fun way to remember how much I loved writing (since doing it professionally can seriously zap the fun out of it). And hearing that someone stole my work made me incredibly upset and feel generally violated. I know it’s just fic, but... I work hard to write it and don’t think it’s too much to ask to receive the credit for it? I hope this chapter doesn’t reflect that because I was really excited for this one! Anyway. TL;DR, I ended up creating an AO3 page, so no one can post FOR me moving forward. I’ve updated my Masterlist page accordingly. And please don’t plagiarize, guys, it’s not cool. Okay. Enough of that negativity. Let’s get back to the important things. Like Rowan.
Rain pelts against Rowan’s window, casting a dark, ominous hue over his bedroom. His first real day off from work, and it’s storming outside, naturally. He’d planned to take it easy and go to the beach, maybe go for a long run. But it looks like that’s not happening now. He knows he’s being punished. This is the universe’s way of intervening and letting him know how shitty he is. Rowan can’t shake the image of Aelin’s hurt face. It is seared into his brain. And there’s only one way to get it out.
Rowan lounges back into his pillows and opens his laptop before typing in Aelin Ashryver into his internet browser. Her Facebook profile pops up immediately, but it’s set to Friends Only, and Rowan definitely isn’t brave enough to add her as a friend. Her Instagram appears next, and Rowan nearly jumps for joy that it’s a public profile.
The first picture is of the back of her head, her blonde hair piled high on top of her head in a messy bun, with tendrils curling around the nape of her neck, overlooking her balcony and the view of the ocean beyond. She’s back, bitches the caption reads, and Rowan can’t help but chuckle. Next is Aelin with her entire family at the head of Ashryver Playland in a picturesque pose with the caption Favorite place with my favorite people (minus @dorhav118 who gets in TOMORROW!!!!). The corners of Rowan’s lips curl downward as his curiosity gets the better of him, and he clicks on Dorian’s profile.
Rowan rolls his eyes at Dorian’s bio: “Hot as a pistol, but cool inside.”
His heart tugs at seeing the first picture. It’s from the pool party the other day, when Aelin was still in her white dress. She’s laughing at something Dorian said, her eyes closed tightly, glass of champagne in her hand, while Dorian smizes into the camera. Reunited and it feels so good <3
“Who kicked your puppy?” Manon asks from the doorway, and Rowan slams his laptop shut.
“No one.”
A wicked grin appears on her face as she stalks into Rowan’s room and slides onto the bed next to him. “I have a pretty good idea.”
Rowan sighs as Manon reaches over and opens the laptop back up, her long nails clacking against the keyboard. “Just as I thought.” She looks Rowan over, from the bags under his eyes to his hair, messy from constantly running his hands through it. “We’re going out.”
Rowan looks out the window at the torrential downpour and gray skies. “Out? In that? Where?”
“I don’t know,” Manon admits, “But I’m not letting you mope and stalk Aelin all day. It’s pathetic, and below you, to be frank. There’s got to be something we can do in this godforsaken town when it rains.”
It turns out there’s not that many options for what to do when it rains in the small beach town. Mostly everything is outdoors or beach oriented. But Manon decides that the aquarium is a good indoor activity, and it happens to be next to a brewery – for when they get bored. The pair Uber there, not wanting to deal with the hassle of worrying about sobering up. If Rowan’s not allowed to mope and be pathetic at home, he’s going to do today right. And do it drunk.
Despite it being one of the few indoor activities available, the aquarium is fairly deserted when Manon and Rowan arrive. It’s dark and damp and cool and strangely soothing, and Rowan lets Manon lead the way. She heads immediately for the reptile room, thrilled to see the alligators and lizards and snakes. Somehow Rowan isn’t surprised by this development.
They branch off into a small Amazon Rainforest room, filled with frogs and fish and even more snakes on low hanging branches, and Rowan nearly jumps out of skin when a large bird caws in his direction.
“I fucking hate birds,” he grumbles as Manon cackles in delight. “Can’t we see… cuter animals? Like, turtles and seals or some shit?”
Manon rolls her eyes and leads him straight to the shark tank. It’s open, so they can lean over it and look at the giant creatures. Rowan grits his teeth, only slightly terrified at the image of the fin cutting through the surface of the water.
“You know what you’re feeling is totally false,” Manon comments casually.
“Huh?” Rowan says, trying to maintain his calm façade.
“Sharks aren’t predators of humans. That’s the Jaws effect in action. It completely changed our perception of sharks and actually sparked a hunting frenzy that has put sharks in danger, even though they were just an important part of the ecosystem. Fuck you, Spielberg.” 
Manon purses her darkly painted lips and twirls her white blonde hair, leaning over the tank further. Rowan shakes his head at his roommate, who looks like she wants to reach into the water and pet the fucking things. He’s never seen her so affected before. 
“Why are you like this?” he asks, and she laughs.
“You’re not thinking about her anymore, though, are you?”
Rowan flicks her off. “I wasn’t.”
“A few more rooms will get you right back to that terrified place and not thinking about her at all. Don’t you worry.” She winks and leads him into an incredibly dark room, which is only lit up with glowing jellyfish. Manon is right, and within a few minutes, Rowan is feeling calm again. He lets the dark and schools of weird underwater creatures soothe him, and after they finish at the aquarium, Rowan is grateful he let Manon drag him out of the house.
“Beer?” she asks, and Rowan nods readily.
“I think I earned it.”
“Shut up, you fucking loved it. Think we should get a fish tank?” she asks, and Rowan shakes his head immediately. Manon is strange enough without tending to creatures from the deep in their apartment.
They brave the rain, realizing they both forgot umbrellas, and make a mad dash down the street. Rain soaks Rowan’s shirt, but he feels light. They duck into the brewery, and Rowan shakes out his hair, spraying water all over Manon, like a wet dog. He’s never seen her look so horrified.
“You’re lucky I set my makeup, so it’s immoveable every day,” she says with narrowed eyes. “First round’s on you, asshole.”
Rowan orders them two beers fairly quickly, despite the brewery being packed with patrons (he guesses this is where everyone goes when it rains). But when he turns around to hand Manon her drink, he’s surprised to see her mid-conversation with the very last person he wants to see.
“Rowan!” Dorian calls him over with a wide smile, and Rowan grimaces as he joins them. “I was just introducing myself to your stunning roommate,” Dorian says, and Manon rolls her eyes. But Rowan knows she’s beaming internally with the praise. Manon knows she’s beautiful and doesn’t let anyone forget it, despite her lack of interest in men.
“Uh, hey, Dorian, right?” Rowan says, pretending like he wasn’t just browsing the man’s Instagram profile merely hours ago.
Dorian laughs heartily. “Rowan, come on. We’re friends. Any friend of Aelin’s is a friend of mine.” He grins again, and Rowan can’t help but stare at his incredibly white teeth. He wonders if he whitens them. He must, because no one’s teeth are that naturally white. Or straight.
“Come sit with us!” Dorian points to their table where Aelin sits with the same two people from last night.
“Sure!” Manon says, the same time Rowan says “NO!” emphatically.
“Come on,” Dorian pleads. “We have a big table, and the place is packed. You’ll be lucky to find standing room otherwise. Please, Aelin would be horrified if I let you leave without saying hi.”
Rowan’s stomach churns, but he feels trapped. He can’t say no. “Lead the way,” he says, and Dorian smiles another blinding smile.
“Great.”
He leads them to their table, and to say that Aelin looks shocked to see Rowan approach would be an understatement.
“Look who I found!” Dorian exclaims, gesturing to Rowan and Manon, who stand next to the table awkwardly. “Chaol, Nesryn – these are two of Aelin’s friends, Rowan and Manon.”
The brunette dude, Chaol, gives Rowan a tight smile and short head nod, but the woman, Nesryn, stands and shakes both their hands politely.
Rowan and Manon slide into the two empty seats, and of course Rowan is directly across from Aelin. She looks at him curiously as he takes a large sip of his beer.
“So, how do you know Aelin?” Chaol asks, breaking the awkward silence.
“Rowan works at the park,” Dorian explains. “And Chaol is Aelin’s ex-boyfriend and my other best friend,” Dorian chuckles.
“It’s not as awkward as it sounds,” Chaol says with a laugh.
Aelin squints her eyes and looks at Chaol. “Mmm… it kind of is.”
Manon snorts. “You’re a handful, aren’t you?” she says, leaning toward Aelin, and Aelin flips her golden hair over her shoulder and shrugs.
“Two handfuls, thank you very much,” she says and feels herself up, showing how her chest spills over her hand, too much for one to grasp fully.
“Aelin!” Chaol chides, and Rowan can feel heat creep up the back of his neck as he stares at Aelin’s ample cleavage as she lifts it up.
Dorian cackles, his laugh piercing through the room as he tips his head back. He reminds Rowan of Manon when he does it, so amused with others’ discomfort.
Rowan glances back at Aelin’s chest, and when he looks up, she’s staring back at him, one brow raised in question. He immediately finishes the rest of his beer, downing it in one gulp.
“I need more beer. Anyone else?” Rowan asks, and to his surprise, Chaol stands and offers to come with him.
The pair stand side by side at the bar, waiting for their drinks, and Rowan is unsure of what to say to his current crush’s former paramour.
“So…” Chaol begins, and Rowan cocks an eyebrow at him as he leans against the bar. “You were at The Mason Jar last night,” Chaol says, naming the dive bar where he’d met up with the guys the night prior. “Aelin booked it to the bar when she saw you,” Chaol continues. “You guys, like, a thing?” he asks, curiosity seeping through his anything but innocent question.
“What?” Rowan says, bowled over. “No. Uh. Not at all.” Rowan is more than flustered. “I thought she and Dorian were…”
And at that Chaol tips his head back and guffaws. A deep, full-body belly laugh, erupts from his mouth. “Dorian?” he gapes, his brown eyes wide with disbelief. “And Aelin?” He shakes his head. “No. No no no. Never.” Chaol pauses. “They kissed once when they were thirteen, but other than that. No. Dorian is her person. Which is why it could never work between us, even though we tried for five fucking years,” he sighs and scratches the back of his neck uncomfortably. “But, no. They’re definitely not.” Chaol looks at Rowan, and Rowan feels like he’s seeing through him completely. Chaol smiles softly. “You really thought? Hmmm.”
Rowan is stunned. Seriously stunned. He has no idea how to react. Or how to process this new information. Dorian and Aelin are not dating? They’re just… friends? So, Aelin is available? And has been flirting with Rowan for the past week, and Rowan just shot her down? Rowan rubs his forehead with his hand, which he thinks is the only thing stopping him from banging his head against the bar in shame. Rowan is an idiot.
An idiot who needs to apologize to Aelin. Immediately.
“This was, uh… enlightening,” Rowan says as he accepts his drink from the bartender, and Chaol can’t help but laugh again.
“Did you do something stupid?” he asks cheekily.
“So stupid,” Rowan says, shaking his head.
“Yeah, she was kind of in a mood after she came back from talking to you,” Chaol says, and Rowan groans. Chaol holds up his hands in surrender. “Just trying to help!”
Rowan turns to him fully and examines the brunette with his concerned brown eyes and has to ask, “Not to be rude, but why?”
“Because Aelin deserves to be happy,” he says resolutely. “And I kept her from being happy for a really long time because I’m a selfish bastard,”Chaol admits way too freely. “But, how could I not?”
“You still love her,” Rowan says, and Chaol shrugs.
“I think once you love Aelin you always love her. For better or worse.”
Rowan motions to the table. “I’m gonna…”
Chaol smirks. “Yeah, get to it.”
But back at the table, Aelin and Dorian are nowhere to be found. Manon sighs, obvious to Rowan’s distress.
“She went to sign up for karaoke.”
“Oh no…” Rowan groans.
“Oh, yes,” Aelin says, bounding back to the table, exuberant.
“Don’t worry. I signed you up, too, Rowan,” Dorian says with a grin.
Aelin frowns, her eyes filled with apology. “I told him not to.”
Dorian rolls his eyes. “And I told her that if Rowan wants to hang with us this summer, he’s gotta get initiated.”
“It’s fine,” Rowan says, smiling in what he hopes is a nice and not creepy way to Aelin. She looks momentarily confused, but she doesn’t have time to think about it because she’s called up to do her song with Dorian almost immediately.
The pair sing “Shallow” flawlessly. And now that Rowan knows they aren’t dating, he can see their friendship all too clearly. Aelin and Dorian love each other fiercely; their passion rages through everything they do, but it lacks a spark. It’s platonic, Rowan finally realizes. He’s been such a fucking fool.
Rowan’s name gets called next, and his stomach is is knots, wondering what song they’ve chosen for him. When he gets to the front, though, he nearly laughs. They’ve chosen a song he could sing with his eyes completely closed.
Shorty get down, good lord… baby’s got ‘em up all over town…
Strictly biz she don’t play around, cover much ground, got game by the pound
Getting paid is her forte
Each and every day, true player way
I can’t get her out of my mind
Think about the girl all the time…
He knows the song is comeuppance for calling Aelin friendly last night, but he crushes it nonetheless, singing his heart out, performing for the masses. When Rowan finishes, the crowds go wild, applauding like crazy.
He sees Aelin bolt from the table before he can get back off the stage, and decides to follow her. She heads down the long hall back to the bathrooms, and his long stride helps him catch up quickly.
“Aelin!” he shouts, and he’s grateful that she pauses, but her arms are crossed over her chest, a clear defensive stance that tells him to keep his distance.
“What?” she snips, obviously pissed. They haven’t actually interacted with each other since last night, and Rowan knows she has every right to be angry with him. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me? What are you even doing here, Rowan?”
“I’m an idiot,” he blurts out, and he can see Aelin’s face morph from pissed to amused. She bites her lip to hold back her smile.
“I mean, I know that, but why do you think that?” she says, her blue gold eyes glowing with challenge. He takes a step closer to her, and she backs up until she can’t back up anymore, pressed against the side of the hall. He pauses his approach, not wanting to make her feel cornered. If she wants space between them, he’ll let her have space.
“I was so out of line last night,” Rowan apologizes. “You were right. You were just trying to be friendly. I was being a dick. I thought…” Rowan pauses. He doesn’t want to be this tongue tied, but she flusters him, and he can’t get anything out how he wants to. “It’s not harassment when I want to be touched. By you.”
Aelin’s eyes narrow. She looks suspicious as she examines him. 
“I knew I was good at karaoke, but damn, I didn’t anticipate this kind of turnaround…” Aelin smirks and takes a breath, and Rowan risks taking another step forward. She holds up a hand and presses it against Rowan’s chest. He didn’t realize how close he’d gotten to her. Warmth from her palm seeps through his shirt, and he breathes heavily. She looks up into his eyes with curiosity.
“Seriously, what changed your mind?” she asks.
“If I say Chaol’s name right now it’s just going to make things weird,” Rowan says, dipping his head slightly, and he can’t help but notice her tilt her head up to him. He zeroes in on her lips, leaning down to get even closer.
“You’re right,” she says with a soft laugh. “You were still a jerk.” Her eyes flick to his lips, and Rowan darts his tongue out to wet them. 
“I know,” he breathes softly. “And I mentioned I was an idiot, right?”
Aelin nods and leans in to close the gap between them, the charge, the magnetism between them now palpable, strumming through Rowan’s body, pulling him downward. 
“Hey guysss,” Dorian drawls as he walks past them quickly, and Rowan straightens up suddenly. Aelin darts under his arm, freeing herself from being backed into the wall. He sees her take a large breath. “I was wondering where you’d gone.” Dorian looks between them, and then grabs his stomach. “I have to pee so bad. Don’t mind me!” He continues down the hall. “As you were!”
Rowan goes to finish his apology, but the moment is gone, and so is Aelin. He needs a moment to compose himself, and when he makes it back to the table, she’s already deep in conversation with Manon and Chaol and Nesryn about the latest karaoke performance. Apparently in his absence someone murdered “Bohemian Rhapsody” and not in a good way. But Aelin acknowledges Rowan’s presence with a flash of a smile, despite not breaking her conversation.
Manon side eyes Rowan suspiciously, and Rowan brushes her off. He’s not ready to talk about whatever just did or did not happen in that hallway.
Their chatter is aimless but pleasant as afternoon bleeds into evening, and eventually they all decide to disperse and head home. Rowan never gets a chance to speak to Aelin alone again, but when he and Manon are in their Uber heading home, his phone flashes with a Friend Request from Aelin Ashryver.
“Hmm,” Manon hums pointedly as Rowan bites back a smile. He spends the rest of the night in bed, scrolling through Aelin’s social media. As he’d originally planned to do with his day. Only now, he doesn’t feel as mopey or pathetic. He lets the rain, still relentless, lull him to sleep.
~*~*~*~*~*~
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vventure · 4 years
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Pairing: Ennoshita Chikara x American!reader
Genre: Fluff
Plot: Rain? Not ideal, but Chikara won’t let it ruin a perfect opportunity.
HaikyuuWriters’ Monthly Prompt Event - Prompt: Summer
Word Count: 2020
Warnings: None
All characters are aged to 20+
A/N: Me? Writing fluff? More likely than you think djfkd My family has been going to the lake every summer for about 15 years now, so I wanted to share a little bit of that while also including Ennoshita and his Capricorn stellium. From my research, those with Capricorn stelliums in their natal charts like to plan in advance, and the best way forward is through. Hope you enjoy! I tried to make it enjoyable for those who aren’t American as well <3
Dappled light sparkled over white knuckles as the small convertible wound its way around sharp bends under your direction. Your begrudging passenger, Ennoshita, held your hand as though his digits were a snapping turtle that’d finally caught its prey. He was no coward, but the bottomless ravines caging the road coupled with the seasoned driving of a person unafraid of kinks in the path of the vehicle set his teeth on edge.
“You don’t trust my driving?” You queried, peeking over to discover his normally shiftless face uncharacteristically tense behind his dark sunglasses.
You’d rented the car when your flight landed in America and Ennoshita insisted he would drive the entire way to the lakeside cabin in the mountains. Having never driven while placed on the left side of the car he did remarkably well; it was a treat to observe his handsome profile as warm air blustered through his short locks. 
The confidence he’d possessed then evaporated the moment the road urged him to maneuver around a curve, prompting your boyfriend to pull over and admit he needed his designated passenger to take over, explaining that since you’d grown up driving ‘this way’ you should be the one to do it.
You understood his hesitation. When you’d moved to Japan for university, the only transportation you felt comfortable using was the train, the bus, or your own two feet. These modes took you far, but Ennoshita took you farther by offering to drive when you were too intimidated to even learn.
In this moment, the regret rolling off of him in waves was palpable even in the open air of the compact car.
“I trust you, I do,” he spoke feebly. “It’s just that...are you sure you’re okay with driving? It’s been years since you’ve done this.”
“I’m sure, baby,” came your response laced with finality. You lifted his hand to your lips, skimming them delicately over the smooth skin of his knuckles as you approached another twist in the road.
“Pay attention!” He cried, his rock-solid composure slipping as his free hand clapped over his eyes; the car continued to glide smoothly along the asphalt.
“I am,” you intoned against his hand before smiling. “Relax! You never get this worked up.”
“Don’t like when plans change,” he mumbled, a pout creasing his visage.
“What?”
“I just don’t like when things don’t go the way I planned.”
“I know,” you said with an inaudible sigh. “Don’t stress, just go with the flow.”
“Easier said than done,” came his garbled response that you chose to ignore. This was just the way that your boyfriend was: he was happiest when things worked out exactly in the manner he had planned. 
“We’re almost there, smooth sailing now.” 
You could see him visibly relax from the corner of your eye as the road straightened out ahead, the turn onto the graveled drive leading to the lake house approaching quickly. The view that each person navigating the narrow road gained when pulling into the driveway of the wood-clad cabin made the rattling of brains over potholes and oversized crushed rocks worthwhile.
Pine trees so tall they could tickle the sky framed the expanse of the crystalline lake with powder white clouds embedded in pristine cerulean reflected along its surface, inviting any passerby to dip their toes into the chill water.
Hopping out of the convertible, you were eager to grab the groceries and assist Ennoshita inside when the lake captured your attention. This happened every time your family visited your go-to location for summer vacation. 
There was something about the lake that made it your solace. Not so much the lake, but the memories shared here, like kayaking through hidden alcoves at dawn, swimming out as far as possible until your brain begged you to go back lest you be captured by a non-existent lake monster, and burning marshmallows over a fire that blazed too hot for too short a time as mosquitos buzzed away from your bug-sprayed skin.
The lake acted as a looking glass for you, sending snippets of the past through your mind as you leaned against the front of the car.
“[Y/n]?” Ennoshita prodded, his arms laden with plastic bags. “I’ve got everything, are you coming?”
“Oh!” you responded, snapping from your reverie with a small smile. “Let me help you.”
--
His mind was almost always consumed with plans. Planning for becoming a physical therapist from the beginning of high school. Planning the perfect way to ask if you’d like to see a movie with him after he met you in a general education class at university. Planning out what you both were looking for in a shared apartment and how to make it the best location for your careers. Planning how to make your relationship permanent.
He hated the saying “Change is inevitable,” and throughout life he’d worked to ensure that no matter what happened he stuck to his guns and completed the task at hand, so why did this sudden alteration of his image for the day feel different?
Dread had settled in Ennoshita’s spine, the fine hairs on the back of his neck standing stock-straight as he peered out over the tumultuous lake from the enclosed porch of the cabin.
The day had risen beautifully with the sun beaming along the peaked waves as boats skipped across the water. He was overjoyed to wake up to your beautiful face glowing in the morning light. Although the itinerary for the day seemed run-of-the-mill--preparing barbecue chicken and then enjoying a bonfire once it was dusk--there was something special that he wanted to spring on you that demanded perfection from the atmosphere.
The atmosphere was a fickle entity to work with, and his optimism surrounding the day was lashed down by pouring rain. It hammered against the once tranquil water and afforded the lake an ominous appearance, almost as if a monster was preparing for the perfect moment to show its grisled face. Dark thoughts were a hallmark of his mind on its descent to self-doubt, though he rarely stood at this precipice due to thorough plotting.
There was no way that he could explain this to you without revealing his hidden agenda. How was a chicken barbecue and bonfire supposed to be a special occasion? You’d tell him to move the dinner plans to tomorrow and order pizza in, problem easily solved. 
“Storms roll in fast,” you explained, your voice rising in volume with every step you took towards him. These were the first real words you’d spoken to him that weren’t whispered affections across the valley between your pillows in the dark. Translating for each set of parents had been all-consuming, but rewarding, leaving no time for conversations between lovers.
“I have to start the coals,” he said, placing his warm hand between your shoulder blades. “Where can I find an umbrella?”
“Let’s just order--”
“No, it’s okay,” he said, kissing you on the cheek. “The chicken won’t be good tomorrow anyway.”
“There’s a big yellow umbrella in the coat rack just inside the doorway,” you explained. “Let me at least help you.”
“No, stay in here so you can translate, it won’t take me that long to get this cooked up.”
Ennoshita quickly snatched the bag of marinated chicken from the fridge and the cheery yellow umbrella and made his way down to the grill to find your father standing over it, the coals smoking as they heated.
“You didn’t have to do that, sir,” he called in english to the man standing dangerously close to such high heat. “I was just coming down. Why don’t you go inside, I don’t want you to get sick.”
It was thoughtful of him to assist and save Ennoshita the time it would take to get everything set up. Now, all he had to do was dump the coals and start grilling. Rain sizzled along the white-cast charcoal nuggets as they cascaded into the belly of the grill before he put the grate over top. Water was already accumulating along the slotted metal as it sat waiting for food to be placed upon it. This wouldn’t work, the downpour might affect his ability to cook everything thoroughly. 
So Ennoshita sacrificed his comfort for the fate of dinner.
‘Not ideal,’ was the understatement of the year as Ennoshita stood in a cloth hoodie with rain soaking him all the way through. He steadfastly held the yellow umbrella over the hot grill as the marinated chicken cooked and took on flavor as though it were another sunny day at the lake.
No matter what, this was going to happen. He wouldn’t let rain ruin this evening.
It was fine if he was soaked, he could change quickly and meet everyone for dinner before the chicken was too cold. The best way around any obstacle is through.
The sound of the rain was so consuming that he hadn’t realized you were approaching until the rain was no longer sluicing off his face, a warm hand now firmly against his back. Looking up, he spotted a black umbrella now hovering over him to protect him from the elements. And to his left, there you were in your hoodie, your palm against his abdomen, and your eyes full of concerned love.
“What’re you doing out here?” He asked before turning to examine the food. 
“I told you I’d help.”
“Don’t they need a translator?”
“The language of afternoon judge shows is universal,” you quipped teasingly, to which he returned his usual bored look. “They’re okay for now, I think they were just preparing the side dishes.”
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he said. 
“But I wanted to. Besides, we haven’t talked in days. I miss you.”
He smiled down at you, drinking in how your face still glowed with an inner beauty in the murky twilight and how the shine in your eyes never dulled by any undesirable circumstances. 
Giving you a small peck on the lips, he finally tore his eyes from your face and deemed the chicken ready for the family dinner.
--
Laughter flitted through the open screens of the porch where Ennoshita stood surveying the sight that greeted him once he was dried off and changed: five of the most important people to him stood around the fire pit. The rain had cleared to reveal a nearly blinding cherry sunset capped with deep plum, its appearance reflected on the now-calm lake it oversaw.
Japanese and English were quickly replaced by laughter as you reminisced and told jokes over the past, even Ennoshita’s least favorite childhood story of putting on a musical all about his stuffed animals for his mother surfaced in the jovial atmosphere.
Something about the way you stood, your back turned so you were merely a silhouette in the saturated light, had his eyes locked onto your form as you swirled and sipped from the wine glass in your hand between the two families he hoped to unite. 
People spoke of moments where everything dropped away and it was only the other person in front of them. Things often fell away for Ennoshita when he was focused on achieving a goal, superfluous people and emotions blurring, so he thought he knew what these so-called people were talking about. He was wrong.
Now he knew, watching your head tilt back to free the lilt of your laugh, this was the moment he’d been missing out on. Perhaps he’d experienced it during your first kiss, or even when you’d said yes to moving in with him—but this was different. The moment he’d planned this entire trip for had come, and he ceased his nervous fiddling. 
Although the day wasn’t perfect, you were.
“Chikara,” came your sweet call, your upturned face adorned with an affectionate smile reserved for him alone. “Come join us!”
The sound of your voice drew him from his thoughts, the square velvet box he’d been fidgeting with dropping to the bottom of his pocket as he made the journey downstairs to join the group. 
Any plan could change as long as he had you.
Taglist: @miyuswriting @burnthoneymint @bb-noya 
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honestgrins · 4 years
Note
Do you still take prompts? A Caroline tattooist and Klaus florist perhaps for inspiration?
I do still take prompts for Sunday minis, I just haven’t had one in a while. Thanks for dropping in, and I hope you like it!
Bold
Klaus would never admit that he purposefully slowed his pace to the door before flipping the sign to "Closed," his face slack with disappointment as another minute passed. Perhaps she had changed her mind. It wasn't a date, yet he still felt like he'd been stood up.
Moving behind the register to balance the till, he tuned the in-store stereo to his personal playlist. The beat was a little harsher, the tone angrier than appropriate for the clientele his mother had built over the decades. He thought the plants liked it, though, so he turned up the volume to lift his mood as well.
Too loud, apparently, since Caroline had to pound on the nearest window to get his attention. With a sheepish smile, she pointed to the door. "Am I too late?" she shouted through the glass.
He shook his head, already striding to let her in and actively hiding the dumb smile on his face. "No, I'm just closing up. You have a good half-hour to look around and find something to catch your fancy."
Beaming at him, she held out a paper bag. "I was going to bake you cookies as a 'thanks for letting me crash your shop for a floral muse' gift, but I found this new doughnut shop on the next block, and they're incredible. I promise, you'll be the one thanking me once you try them."
"I believe you," he chuckled, peeking inside the bag she handed him. "But no thanks are necessary. I did my fair share of searching for drawing subjects in art school. The local pet shop was my haunt of choice, if the models were less than receptive to direction."
Caroline laughed. "That's such a great idea," she said, idly meandering through the aisles to inspect the blooms and greens on display. "Which animals were your favorite to draw?"
"The turtles," he answered right away. "They were the best at staying still."
Her face scrunched up, and Klaus was mildly embarrassed at how taken he was with her that he just found it adorable. "I cheat, even with the still models," she admitted. Pulling out her phone, she made sure to tilt a potted zinnia into its best light before snapping a photo or two. She frowned down at the screen before holding it out to him. "Do you think these petals would get too warped in a tattoo design?"
He stepped closer, not that he truly needed to. She didn't shy away, which gave him some confidence. "I think it would depend upon the depth of your shading, especially with that angle."
Sighing, her shoulders dropped. "Yeah, shading is not my strong suit, which makes realistic drawings really difficult. But I'm so tired of being the script girl in the shop," she groaned. "I swear, the boys only keep me around to handle the Bible verse and song lyric crowds."
"I'm sure that's not true," Klaus said, annoyed on principle that the Salvatores got to spend their workdays with her while he had to enjoy these stolen moments in her busy schedule. He was building up the courage to change that, maybe to actually ask her out - once he figured out if she was available and interested, that is. "Your work is wonderful, love."
Her gaze seemed to burn into him, and he quickly looked down at the cash he was supposed to be counting. The physical deflection did nothing to deter Caroline, though. "How would you know? You've never stepped foot into the shop."
Freezing, his brain short-circuited as he fought for a better explanation than finding her online portfolio, then her Instagram account, then being very careful not to like any photos from too long ago. "Er..."
"Because I asked Stefan," she continued, her tone almost sounding amused, "and he said you only go to Marcel's shop across town. Something about an old grudge with Damon?"
Klaus looked up, bolstered by the sheer challenge and interest in her expression. "That's a long story, and you're right. Marcel is an old friend, and the only one I trust with a needle to my skin."
She bit her lip, teeth bared as she grinned at him. "I hope I get to hear that story one day," she said. "I hope to see the ink, too, but my grandma always said a lady shouldn't be so bold."
"All due respect to your grandmother," he replied, his voice low as he met her eyes with intent, "but I happen to like you being bold."
Caroline's smile spread even wider, and he didn't think he'd ever seen anyone so beautiful.
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bugaboowritings · 4 years
Text
Don’t Call Me Bugaboo -
She’s not your Love-Bug
There this one post about how Marinette won’t let anyone call her ‘Bugaboo’ or any bug/cute nickname unless it was from Chat Noir or Adrien. So that inspired me to write this short mess a while back. As it seems cute since this fic does match my url. heheheh- enjoy. 
I think that I may write something more if the idea stay in my head. Like make Clairvoyance into a ‘real’ episode or fic.
   “Silly Bug! Don’t you know that you could get squashed playin’ like that!?”
   Ladybug ran to a harsh stop, her feet stinging with her rough landing. Feeling the extra momentum throw her off the balance if it wasn’t for the grip on her suit. Her breathes escaped hard and heavy out of her nose, trying to catch her breath. Pumping her lungs with fresh adrenaline and oxygen. Glaring at the Akuma through her midnight blue bangs. 
Gripping her yo-yo a little tighter.
“Speak for yourself, Clairvoyance.” 
“More like Clairvo-Annoyance, if you ask me.” Chat Noir mumbled, reaching the scene in time. His fangs sticking out of his lips, shooting a wink to the red heroine. As dumb the joke was, it was a signal of reassurance to calm his LB. Ignoring the disgusted expression from the villain. 
   With baton ready in hand, Chat Noir itching to play offense or if needed, support for his Lady against the Akuma’s tricks. Racking his brain for ways to make the new villain pay or a quick getaway in case the Akuma pulled another foul trick from their sleeves. With the power to the bent reality and see anything in view or out, Clairvoyance proved to be a ‘little’ tricky to sneak around. Being five steps ahead of them before the Miraculous Duo even took one. Driving Ladybug out of her comfort zone as she analyzed the new threat to Paris. 
Clairvoyance scowled at the leather-cat before swiping their glasses. 
  That’s when it clicked in LB’s head. 
  The corrupted butterfly must be in their glasses!
“I’ll make you eat your words, you dirty rat.” 
“Ouch.” Chat winced, rubbing his chest as if Clairvoyance’s words stung his big heart. Chat’s acid eyes fluttered before landing a bitter smile on his pink lips. 
“First off, I’m clearly a cat. I thought that was clear. Second,” He motioned his collar bell, flicking his claws out, “-You better be a purr-fect cook if you gonna make me eat my words.” 
“Might as well cook me and the Lady dinner if you’re offering.” 
Chat’s remakes fell flat once he saw Clairvoyance’s growl turn into a crafty grin. 
“I have plenty of tricks for you to pick from the menu!”
 With a swipe of their hand, black holes appeared on the ground. Quickly expanding to the whole floor, swallowing the solid ground into a void. 
The duo jumped before they could fall into the nothingness or a tunnel that lead to the unknown. Twirling and flipping out of harm’s way as Clairvoyance made more black holes appear with the swipe of their hand. The corners of their thin lips turned up into a sick grin on their periwinkle face the more Ladybug and Chat Noir jumped around, avoiding the danger than grew under their feet. The heroes pushing themselves off the leftover bits of the green grass, trying to reach the edges of the huge stadium or even better- the high bleachers. 
 Chat Noir hopped from piece to piece, feeling himself getting cocky. Opening his mouth to speak, only for a yelp to escape. His boot missed the step and fell back. Feeling the hum of the black hole on his back as he slipped closer and closer to the nothingness. A shot yelp brought Ladybug’s attention to the black cat. Pulling her arm back as her stomach squeezed in anxiousness, launching her yo-yo out to pull her partner out of the vacuum. 
Feeling his weight hang on the edge of her string, she tugged back. Fishing out a black cat into her arms. His hair ruffled and eyes widen once they both realized what had just happened.
“I guess your bad luck never fails.” Ladybug smirked. Not helping to pull her own joke to reassure her kitty. 
“You never fail to swoon me, Bugaboo.” Chat Noir sighs. Ladybug could have sworn that his thin pupils turned into little hearts as he grinned back at her. Her grip on her partner's waist tightened when she tossed her yo-yo up and over a steel beam. Hopefully strong enough to hold them as she pushed her feet from the ground running. 
 Our heroes swung up to the stadium bleaches, away from the black holes that ate away at the once-solid ground. 
Clairvoyance burst out in giggles as the Miraculous Duo struggled to regain their ground. Ladybug holding her yo-yo tightly as Chat Noir pulled out his baton from his back. 
“Woowwwww.” Clairvoyance rolled out their lips. Winking at the team before raising their hands to their glasses. Ready to spit out another obstacle. 
“You’re so slick, Bugaboo.” They chuckled, quickly swiping their hand out to motion another tear in reality, all in hopes to confuse the bug and cat team. Portals stretched out behind the villain, revealing another monster entering the stage floor. 
  “But that cleverness of yours can only last so long.”
Ladybug ground her teeth. Only to drop her frown when she noticed the red and black spots highlighting the ceiling and Chat Noir’s baton. 
Gaining her own smile that confused Clairvoyance but motivated Chat. 
“Don’t call me Bugaboo or I’ll make YOU eat your words.”
————
“Gross.” Marinette winced as she pulled her arm away. Pressing it against her chest to protect herself. Still feeling the tingle of their touch on her forearm. Causing her to recoil from the man before stepping back. Her heels already tapped the wooden floor, ready to leave and find another seat.
“Oh, don’t be like that, Love-Bug.” The fresh-cut college student cooed. Ready to move a little closer even as Marinette moved back. 
That name just felt wrong as it slipped from his lips and reached her ears. Touching her temples as if she could stop herself from hearing this ‘evil’ or erase it from her memory. 
This guy really wasn’t getting it. 
“Not your Love-Bug, creep,” Marinette said, again. Grabbing her purse before heading out. Deciding that it wasn’t worth getting harrassed to leave her doom room. Just when she thought she had enough of this guy’s behavior, he still dared to grab her by the arm and pull her near. 
Some people don’t know what ‘no’ means until they get a punch, square in the face. 
______
“Don’t call me Bugaboo.” Ladybug snarled. Snapping shut her yo-yo communicator before facing the monkey behind her. Telling him to knock it off and she slowly gets tired of his jokes. It annoyed her even more than usual since she was cold, ready to detransform, and go home. The weather didn’t help her mood, but Ladybug just pulled her hoodie over her head. 
Ignoring it for now. 
“-Not if you want to make it out of this patrol home safely,” she added, slipping her yo-yo back to her side. Lifting herself up after watching the ground for a moment. Sniffing the bits of cement from cheap construction nearby and smoke of something burning elsewhere. The yellow-lights flickered in the Parisian apartments below her and the wind blew around old trash that cluttered alleyways. There amid the calm and crowded city was Rena’s signal to go. 
Mayura was near. 
Meaning Hawk Moth was closer.
“That’s the call.” Ladybug murmured. Motioning her team of a snake, monkey, and turtle to follow the next step of her plan.
Positioning themselves for her go. Itching to get out there. On the edge from being a still statue to swift blur on the roofs of buildings. 
“Let’s go.” Ladybug being the first to run out before the rest followed suit. 
———
“Honestly, I think you are over-reacting-”
“Excuse you because it’s the exact opposite going on! You aren’t taking this project seriously.” Marinette huffed. Pulling her bag over her shoulder, which was filled to the papers and folder about the new upcoming line being launched with GUESS. 
“I-”
“No, Calvin. I don’t want to hear it. We have deadlines and they are not being met. Do something before you force me too.” 
Marching out of the office before getting called out by the marketing team again. Pulling her in their office before Marinette could shake them off. 
“Marinette, hey! Baby-”
Marinette gave her co-worker a dull look, telling them to not push her buttons like they did every other day. Hoping that because she’s still a newbie in the company, she would this pass.  Marinette was growing tired of this and even more with the fact that they seem to see her as a small sister rather than a co-worker. Tugging on the pockets of her bright red coat that had no trouble catching attention. However, today Marinette didn’t want their eyes on her. 
Especially when today was one of those days.
 Where everything’s falling apart and she’s the only one that could manage to put things together. Scolding herself for coming to work early, she should have called in sick or walked the other direction- anything to stop this problem from being hers. Now it was too late to shoulder off this dilemma to someone else. EVEN WHEN THIS ISN’T HER DEPARTMENT IN THE FIRST PLACE!
“Don’t call me Baby, Lorraine. Not until I see those labels up and ready.” Marinette snapped. Leaving the office a quieter place than when she found it. 
———-
“You are so annoying,” LB rolled her eyes as the group of heroes gathered around her. Being the shortest one out of many was a little intimidating, but as leader of the group of superheroes, she got the most respect. Never worry about being interrupted or talked over since whenever she spoke, the crowd hushed itself. Her plans weren’t brushed to the side nor was she. A nice change if you asked her. However, as the leader of this magical squad, she had to be on guard. With more members by her side meant that the danger was something bigger and scarier each time. So this was the first time she had her whole team with her without the stress of an Akuma or giant senti-monster looming over Pairs. It was the first time she could relax around them. 
So for Ladybug smiling like that made some people question what was going on. 
Did the Akuma get her already?
Is this a trap? 
Does she have a big announcement? 
Is she retiring? 
Could today be her birthday?
Chat Noir hopped off the brick wall and gracefully landed on all fours. Bouncing back up as he beams a nice cocky smile to his red ladybug. 
Chat tiles his head to the side, letting his blond locks fall to his face.
 “All in hopes for you to love me more, Bugaboo.” 
 The whole team cringed or pretended to, swooned, or rolled their eyes at that nickname. Others tried to call LB by that, only met with a confused look or a frown. All quickly learning that it was Chat Noir’s thing and Chat Noir was the only person LB would ever allow to call her by that. As tough and determined the Red Miraculous Leader, she had her weak spot -Chat Noir’s clever and sometimes cute nicknames.  
Waiting for an eye-roll from the bug, only to hear her giggle. 
 “Well, you got something right at least.” She smiled. Turning to her team and pretending not to notice the shock on his face before explaining why she called them here today.
-----
“I have a meeting today, check over some of the marketing team’s ideas and then I’ll pick lunch on the way back. Do you need anything, Bugaboo?” The blond asked before adjusting the watch on his wrist. Quickly throwing his scarf around his neck and throwing his brown coat over his broad shoulders. 
“Just drive safe.” Marinette yawned. Tired and cold as the blanket around her chest wasn’t warming her fast enough. Waiting for her coffee machine to beep with her hot cup of caffeine. Envying the man in the doorway for having so much energy in the morning. 
“Always.” Adrien smiled, before kissing her forehead and walking out the door. 
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slipperygremlin · 5 years
Note
I don’t know how Snake!Crowley would work into this but I love the idea of Crowley adopting reptiles as pets because he has a soft spot for them. In particular I think he’d like bearded dragons. Bit of a dumb idea but maybe since Crowley is a snake with magical abilities he can hear the thoughts of reptiles and stuff? Idk
This was too precious! I wrote it because I love it!
As for warlocks parents, they’re just glad it wasn’t a snake.
———————————————————————
Warlock wanted a pet, of course, this was something Harriet and Thaddeus didn’t want to share with their son. So, they thrust a black piece of plastic into Nanny’s hands, and left it to him on the condition that, young Warlock didn’t get anything too strange.
Crowley expected a dog, a cat maybe? Perhaps even a bird or someone forbid, a fish.
The pet shop was expansive, waxed linoleum floors and wall to wall tanks in several different rooms.
He expected there to be several rooms of dogs and cats, and there were, but-
What he didn’t expect, was the reptile plaque above a neatly arched door; and the sheer amount of reptiles lounging about the shop.
“Let’s see the reptiles!” With that said, Warlock tugged Crowley through the door.
A few frogs with their toadish eyes stared at him contritely from their prison. He offered them a blank stare in passing. “Aren’t frogs cool, Nanny?!”
“...not all of them” he grumbled in reply. Peering down at a rather slow moving turtle. “This one looks rather fetching, doesn’t he?” He brought Warlock closer with his grip on his small hand.
“He looks like he’s smiling!” Warlock beamed. “But, I wanna keep looking for a bit, Nanny.”
“Of course, dear.” Crowley’s hand pressed at the middle of his back. Leading him on.
Chameleons gave him googley eyed stares in passing. He could hear their vapid little reptile brains flickering between astonished confusion; and excitement. It was almost touching, humans, who were taught of reptilian evils, willingly purchasing them to care for...
He locked eyes with a few lazy snakes, lounging about, complaining about the fullness of their bellies, having never knew hunger to be grateful for the free meals. The shopkeeper ran to the rows of tanks when their notice of Crowley sent them into fits. Hissing and attempting to get out of the case.
Warlock blinked in their direction. “Snakes are cooler than frogs though, huh?”
He swelled with pride. He couldn’t keep it out of his voice. “Of course they are, dear.”
A noise alerted him to a far off tank with a single occupant. A runty bearded dragon. It’s little nails tapping the glass and it’s mind pleading.
“Nanny, I kinda want the turtle...I’ll name him Franklin-“ he peeked up at Crowley. Who was slowly heading to the bearded dragons tank. Lifting his glasses just enough for the small thing to see, it only skittered in further excitement and he could feel longing wafting from it like all together too much perfume. He dropped the glasses again. “And what might your name be?” He started.
“Ah that one? He’s missing a nail or two, and one of his toes. People tend to overlook him, plus, he’s a little small-“ the shopkeeper started when he noticed Crowley eyeing him.
“I’ll take him.” Crowley dug into the purse he always carried as Nanny, and handed the man the money, “My darling child would like the turtle, as well.”
When he returned home that night, he set up the tank, watching as Ladon made himself comfortable in the enclosure, a long finger lifting the cage mesh top and wiggling in.
‘Home? Home!’ The reptiles mind buzzed. And Crowley only reassured him with a gentle hiss.
This was home.
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adventuresloane · 5 years
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Déjà Vu All Over Again
((Amnesty spoilers up to episode 27!))
Read on AO3
If Ned were being honest--and he hadn't been, because he almost never was, with others or with himself--he would have said that he knew from the moment he met her.
It was an inkling, at first. Just enough to make him do a double-take when he saw this girl, this kid with a-bit-too-large eyes making her look always alert. There was a hunger about her, and he knew hunger when he saw it, the kind that made cavities inside the body and that couldn't be filled up with food. It was something in her slightly sunken cheeks and long, thin limbs, and every time he looked at her he felt a niggling in the back of his mind like a hairpin inside a stubborn lock: Where have I seen you before?
The thing was, Ned "Astute" Chicane never forgot a face. It had been indescribably useful in his former line of work, one in which frenemies and associates, his fellow thieves and cons, rotated through a dozen aliases and identities without warning. When a Reginald on Tuesday became a Martin by Thursday, it was handy to be able to take one look at a guy and remember whether or not he was the type to screw people over. He knew on sight whether they could be bribed or bargained with, whether they were a rat, whether they would stab him in the back, whether they would stab him in the eye.
But then this Audrey--"Aub-rey," she enunciated slowly when he got it wrong for the third time--this Aubrey was familiar to him, but in what context, he had no idea. It was like remembering a string of notes but neither the words nor the title of the song. Sometimes she painted herself neon with the shiniest and brightest makeup she could, gave herself a face like a bicycle reflector. Like she was afraid of not being seen, disappearing in the dark. That, for some reason, was when he really thought he had seen her before, when she was alight like that. But he didn't recall knowing anyone who dressed that way. Damn it. He was getting older. He was sure of it.
And then, a little while later, he watched her catch fire.
And though her hair had been longer and duller back then (twisting up and snapping in a wind he couldn't feel), and though her now-slender arms had then been more on the gangly side (dangling from her like dead weight until she raised her fist), and though she kept her feet on the ground now (she had been lifted as if suspended by wires), he knew. The light of the flames struck her cheekbones just as it had that night three years ago and that's how knew it was her, and that it was just his rotten luck, or maybe the just punishment of some god he'd never seen, that even in podunk Kepler he would run up against his past and that the one out-of-towner who actually decided to stay would end up being the one--
No. It was impossible, definitely. The odds were too long. There was a resemblance, maybe, but Aubrey didn't look that much like the girl from the house. And anyway, even if it were true, who could prove it? No one. Not even him. He shook his head to knock the idea out of his brain. He had more pressing things to deal with, like saving his own hide from the amalgamation of fangs and eyes in front of him. And so, because the thought was not useful, he tamped it down.
That didn't mean he found it easy to look her in the face for a little while after that. The day after their first fight with a monster, he sat in the hospital parking lot and argued with himself for twenty minutes before going in to see her. She was asleep, and he thought for half a second about trying to wake her or waiting until she got up herself. But then, he assumed it wouldn't do much good either way, and he turned around and left.
To say that Ned had never been interested in having kids was an understatement. Heaven forbid. What would he have even done with one? Carted them around in the back of his black van and pretended the six police cars on their tail were playing tag? For that matter, who would he have raised them with? There hadn't been anyone since Mosche, and if there were anyone less fit for fatherhood than Ned, it was him.
That door had all but closed to him at his age, anyway. He was glad of it. He thought of having kids and could only imagine how he would fuck them up. He thought of pouring every resource into a tiny person until they turned into a big person, grew to hate him, and left. No, thanks.
So it wasn't out of any fatherly instinct that he started talking to her. It was just that he knew that look. He hadn't meant to pry, but he had been sitting in the lodge's lobby, early for a Pine Guard meeting with Mama and the others, when he saw her and Dani leaning into each other's space. As they talked, they kept shrinking back just before they could touch foreheads. But Aubrey's puff of tight curls kept brushing the other girl's skin. She mouthed the word "bye," ducked her forehead for a moment, and then placed a careful kiss on Dani's cheek as though it were a fragile thing. When Dani departed, she kept beaming in her direction for awhile afterwards.
Then Aubrey turned to the window and saw him. That was when he realized that he'd been staring. There was the look, the jolt of alarm that knocked the grin off her face. The look of being caught. He recognized it, alright.
She recovered, though not entirely. As she walked in and sat down, she did not quite meet his eyes.
There was no noise for a time, aside from the tick of the clock above the fireplace and the rhythm that she tapped out on her knees with her fingers. Then, Ned attempted, "Have I ever told you about my master criminal origin story?"
She rolled her eyes, in a way that was both rude and somehow not unfriendly. "We all heard about you stealing Audrey Hepburn's necklace from Breakfast at Tiffany's, Ned."
"Oh, no, no, this was well before I took on any big targets like that." He paused. "Though I'll have you know that trying to pry off her roof tiles in broad daylight without getting caught was no easy--"
"Ned."
"Alright, fine, fine, you've heard it. What I was going to say is that I got my start back in the dinosaur era, when I was a high schooler."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yep. Started picking locks to impress boys."
Though he was not looking right at her, he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, the way her head snapped towards him. She smiled, and after she let a breath out she looked like she had gotten rid of a weight. Recognition.
"Yeah," he continued, "there was this lacrosse player who...well, you know what lacrosse players are like, eh? Anyway, he always talked about breaking into the school greenhouse and sleeping out there. Bucket-list thing for him, I guess. Well, guess who learned to pick the lock for this kid? Ned 'Impeccable Judgment' Chicane."
She chuckled, then pursed her lips, as though considering. At last, she mumbled, "Did it work?"
"What?"
"Was he impressed?" She went on before he could answer. "I figured out how to pick my classroom door's lock in the third grade. I was liberating Spud. Uh, Spud was our turtle, like a class pet, but her cage was way small, or at least I thought so, so I broke into the room to get her out. Is that really--damn, could I have used that to impress cute people all these years? Dammit! How'd I never think of that?" She ran a hand through her hair, and he couldn't help but smile.
"Of course it worked. I was very good. I mean, we got caught and suspended later, but before that? He thought I was pretty damn smooth." She laughed again, and he waited for her to stop before he went on, "But, well, it seems like Dani's pretty impressed with you already, if you don't mind me saying so."
She grinned down at the carpet beneath her feet. It wasn't quite embarrassment, he didn't think, but rather a surge of joy that added an extra warm tint to her deep brown cheeks. "Thanks, Ned."
Always she was moving. He got the idea that if someone ever tried to take a candid photo of her, it would inevitably come out blurred. Her fingers worked constantly, pulling back her cuticles or igniting small flames or clacking the Snapple caps she always seemed to keep in her pockets. That, perhaps, was why she had tried for the whole stage magic thing. It kept her hands occupied. Even with the real magic she had now, she practiced her flourishes and sleights-of-hand constantly. Little interlocking rings. Cards slipping into and out of her sleeves. Coins disappearing.
"Is this your card?"
Head in his hand, he gave a sardonic grin to the three of clubs she had produced from her sleeve and shook his head.
Aubrey turned the card towards herself and gave a look of mock surprise. "Oh, what a mess! This card might be a little worse for wear, but don't let appearances deceive you, Mr. Chicane!" (She had never, even when they had first met, called him "Mr. Chicane" at any other time except when she was performing. He had appreciated that.) She scrubbed the card against her shirt as though to clean it and then flipped it around to show him again. Miraculously, it had become the three of diamonds. "You can always find diamonds in the rough."
He chuckled and clapped exactly three times. "Nice job. I didn't see you pull the other card out from under your collar that time."
"Ugh, you're no fun," she grumbled, dropping the act. "You're supposed to at least try to buy into it."
"Hey, I've gotta be a skeptic! In order to be good at bullshitting, first you gotta know how to spot bullshit. That's how I'm able to scam other people."
She huffed. "Yeah, you know bullshit alright, Ned."
He shrugged and took another bite of his Slim Jim. (Aubrey had wrinkled her nose when he had offered her half. Well, more for him.) For a few quiet moments--or moments that would have been quiet were she not flapping the card back and forth absently--they sat in their headquarters in the lodge's basement. "Aubrey, can I ask...why stage magic?"
She answered immediately, enunciating, as though it were a rehearsed line like any of the ones she would utter during a show. "Because people told me not to." Before he could respond, she quickly went on, with an effort at evenness, "I know you probably think that's a stupid reason, but it's the truth."
"Heh, well, Aubrey, I'm not the sort of person who can really talk about doing what people tell him."
Her mouth had been open to say something else, but instead she glanced at him, then grinned. Her shoulders dropped a little. "Yeah, I guess you did super rob a lot of people, huh?"
"I most certainly did. Is that the only reason, then?"
She tapped her toe, then her heel, against the wooden deck. "It's not that I'm doing it out of spite, so much," she said slowly.
"I didn't say you were."
"Right, but like, people assume that when I say that, you know. But it's more like...I know people think it's a joke, right? I'm not dumb. And the more people think that, the more they assume it's impossible, the more I want it. What's there to having magic powers, if not to make people believe you can do impossible stuff?"
"I hear you." He heard, and he understood. He supposed that he had hungered for the impossible, too, when he was younger. Why else steal Clooney's Oscar than to prove he could? Why else stomp out of his parents' house with a duffel at sixteen, leaving his mother weeping into the chest of his father--his impassive, shale-faced father, whose grayish countenance was hard and brittle enough that it would crack before it ever loosened or bent--and set out on his own? It had probably been wrong to leave like that, he knew now, but the idea of right and wrong hadn't crossed his mind at the time. He had simply been daring something, finally, and that had felt like it had to be something good.
He looked at her and wondered when he had last risked, really. At some point, he had started going only for the sure thing. The easy thing.
Like so many other times, he thought he recognized her. But this time, it wasn't that he thought she was the girl from the burning house. There was something else, in her youth, that was familiar to him in a different way.
Sometimes, she scared the hell out of him.
Sometimes, what freaked him out was the lingering suspicion about who she was. Now and again, when the light hit her a certain way, the thought would come to him again like a bump in the night. Something that shouldn't have scared him--it wasn't real, just his imagination--but left his skin crawling anyway.
That was becoming increasingly less common though. Mostly, he was damn near terrified when he saw what she could do.
Had he turned his head to one side or the other, water was all he would have seen. The wave had encircled him in shining, glassy blue, as all-encompassing as the roar of its rolling. Of course, he did not turn its head to one side or the other, because his neck was fixed in place, like the rest of his rigid body, paralyzed before the wall of water cresting up and up and never ceasing in movement. It reached its apex, rearing like a striking snake, and then momentum led it down--
"Ned, look out!"
There was a rush of hot air behind him, and the laws of physics were suspended. There, in front of him, the water stopped. It hung over his head but did not reach him, as if gravity itself had stopped cooperating with the abomination.
And right behind him was Aubrey, palms straight out in front of her.
Her ability to bend the will of the world scared him, sure. But what frightened him more, what was more unfathomable, was her ability to leap into the path of a wave primed to swallow her and tell it no.
He tried to give her a shaky grin, but she looked forward without seeming to see, wide-eyed.
Later, when things had gone quiet, and when he had finished convincing some deeply confused insurance agents over the phone that yes the Cryptonomica's water damage had obviously come from a burst pipe, he found her.
"Aubrey," he started, then faltered. People had saved him before--Mosche, for self-serving reasons, and Victoria, for reasons he still tried to wrap his head around--but he had seldom thanked them for it. There was no way not to make it awkward. "Thanks for, uh...your...judicious use of magic back there. You, hah, really saved my slow ass there."
She sat on the curb with her chin resting between her knees, eyes locked on the yellow dandelion that had slipped up through the concrete. It took several seconds for her to react at all, and when she did, she shook her head quickly. It was as though his voice had taken time to penetrate her brain. "Yeah...yeah, Ned, don't mention it." She spoke in a soft, slow voice, only half-present.
At the risk of sliding this conversation even further into awkward territory, he ventured, after several moments, "You, uh, holding up okay after all that?"
"Yeah. It wasn't the monster freaking me out or anything, I just..." She flicked her forefinger against her thumb over and over again, like one striking a match. Indeed, more often than not, orange sparks shot off. Then she glanced at him. She seemed to be weighing cost and benefit, as he did so often. "It's just, for some reason I started thinking about my dad when I stopped that wave."
He swallowed his saliva. This was not the sort of talk he had ever in his life been equipped for. Just her saying that had activated his flight-and-flight mode, which was like the fight-or-flight mode, except that there had only ever been one option for him. But, shit, she looked sad. So he turned toward her and waited for her to go on.
"Today, I was just like...I don't even know. You almost beefed it, you and Duck both, and it scared me, and somehow it got me thinking that if something were to happen to my dad, or to me, neither of us would know about it for awhile. We don't talk enough for that." She stopped the finger flicking and instead clenched her fist around the fabric of her pants. "Whatever, I don't know."
"No, I get it. There are...things you want to tell him, maybe?"
"Yeah, exactly. You know what that's like?"
"I do." He nearly said, I don't recommend it, but there was no need to open that can of worms. No need to make it about him. He returned to his shop that evening and remembered whose shop it was, really, even after all this time, whose shop it had always been.
He hadn't known about the mother.
In fact, he knew almost nothing about the accident, beyond what he had seen for himself that very night. When he had passed by a newspaper stand with a flaming building on the front page, he had held back his bile and looked away. He had decided not to read the paper for weeks afterward. He had been too afraid of learning exactly what he was learning right now, lying there under the fluorescent hospital lights that he could see through his eyelids, listening to Aubrey and Mama speak softly so as not to wake him.
No killing. That had always been the one rule. He could bring himself to sink to any other low, but he could always assure himself, still, that he was a good guy, well, a decent guy, well, not completely heartless because he refused to kill. He avoided being detestable that way, he told himself.
Well, he always had been a liar.
He had killed a woman. He had killed a girl's mother and maybe killed the girl, too, in some way, killed the person that she had been before that night. How does someone so young go through that without metamorphosing under the strain, turning into someone harder to recognize?
He had done it. Even if he hadn't been the one to start the fire, he had done all of it. And somehow, he had known it, deep down, all along.
See, Ned "Fucking Coward" Chicane feared many things. Just because he was part of a big monster-hunting and -hiding conspiracy didn't mean he feared any less. It might have seemed that way on the outside. True, he was beginning to grow numb to claws and yellow eyes and pain. But now he was afraid of other things. Of being useless, hurtful, hated.
He was afraid of looking Aubrey in the eye.
So if anyone thought it was bravery that made him jump into his Lincoln and speed down a snowy hill after a train, they were wrong. It was one result of the fear that he was, in fact, a bad man, and part of his frenzy to prove himself wrong.
Aubrey leapt in too, of course. She would have, whether he had tried to argue against it or not. She was brave, for real. As they careened down the slope, shouting over each other, and as she leaned over to grip his steering wheel with one hand and cling to his arm with the other, he saw the way in which they were unalike. She was running towards something, while he ran away.
He wasn't sure he would have bailed out of the car when he did, either, if she had not prompted him. His panic had turned him tunnel-visioned, enough that he barely escaped getting his body tangled up in the twisted wreckage of his loyal old car.
"I'm proud of you, Ned," she said when it was all over.
Her hand was on his shoulder and she was smiling at him with sympathy. He made eye contact with her for the first time since the hospital and saw that, of course, she still knew nothing of who he was, and that's when a new thought of the niggling sort came into his mind: This could work. For now, he could let her believe that he was alright. What good would it do right now, anyway, to hurt her with the knowledge of what he had done? There was time enough to tell her all of it. And in the meantime, he could keep trying to atone.
This could work, he kept telling himself, even after he found himself beginning to avoid her, when her eye turned as orange and bright as the pendant that he had taken from her home.
To Aubrey, he wasn't anything like a father, not really. He knew that. She had one of those already (but not a mother, he always recalled, and every time he did, he felt tempted to replace the memory in his brain with a bullet). He was, at best, a weird uncle. But a good kind of weird, apparently, judging by the way she seemed to seek out his company now and again. Like an uncle, he was less prone than a father to judge or give a lecture. It meant that, once in a blue moon, she swung by the Cryptonomica by herself, despite her distaste for the web-footed monkeys in formaldehyde and the taxidermy chimaeras.
"Remind me again where you got all this crap from?" she called, tapping on a display case showing the vertebral column of a mermaid. (Most people were unaware that mermaids' unique biology gave them bones made of plaster.)
"Oh, a little from here, a little from there," he said with a flippant wave. To avoid looking at her, he busied himself with invoices at his desk. Twenty minutes to closing time, the winter sun had already set, and they were the only two people still in the shop, with the exception of Kirby, holed up in the back. He considered calling Kirby out for some mundane thing or other. He avoided being alone with Aubrey nowadays. "By the way, Aubrey, what are you doing here?"
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Can I not be here?"
"No, no!" He waved his hands out in front of him. "No, of course you can. My...my friends are always more than welcome. It just seems that maybe, uh, you'd rather hang out with someone like Dani or Jake than some old dude like me."
She sighed. "I'm...procrastinating, I guess."
"Oh?"
He heard her inhale, as if to speak, but no words came immediately. That was when, finally, he dared to look up at her. She had her back to him, shoulders scrunched. "I was gonna call my dad on the payphone across the street, but I turned in here instead."
"Did you..." He hesistated, felt his way. "Were you going to tell him something?"
"Not in particular. I just feel like I wanna talk, like, for real. We used to talk all the time. I think, just...I know I didn't ever tell you, but my mom died, about three years ago."
He felt about ready to throw up, as her voice strained with the effort of telling him what he already knew.
"My dad and I were both...really fucking hurting, obviously, and I don't think he knew how to help me, aside from getting me a therapist, and I sure as hell didn't know how to help him. And I left home so soon after that, just to get away from where it all happened...I don't know. I wanna be able to talk to him about real shit again. Like, he's my dad, you know?"
Her voice caught. He took a few steps out from behind the counter before stopping. Of all people, he wasn't the one to comfort her about this. But then, he was the only one there. If not him, who?
He wasn't going to hug her. He didn't even know if she'd want that. Instead, he settled for a placed carefully on her shoulder. "Um...he'll be happy to hear you, I'm sure."
She smiled as her odd eyes shone.
The next time she stood in his shop, she burned, like she had that night. Everything about her burned, her hands enveloped in flame and her glaring eyes. Even the blood pouring from her leg--his eyes kept flicking to the puddle on the floor with concern--seemed to give off a hot red glow. The tears making dark tracks down her face, he was sure, were burning too.
When he told her to burn him up, he tried to make himself believe it was out of bravery. Trying to resolve the situation. Bullshit. He was doing what he always did, avoiding.
"I hate you." She spat the word with as much ire as she could, despite the break in her voice. "Because you knew."
She didn't kill him, the way he had asked her to. Just told him, not in so many words, that to her, he was dead already.
And as she walked out into an evening the color of molten rock, as he threw things in boxes while barely looking at him--all junk, anyway, bric-a-brac with big names attached--he knew he should've expected to run all along. It was all he knew.
He should've seen it coming. He had seen it coming. Right from the start, he had known.
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The Legend of Asriel PART 6 | DEATH MOUNTAIN
it’s about as unpleasant as it sounds.
Frisk and Chara reach Death Mountain, and their first order of business is seeking out a blacksmith who can reforge their sword. There’s a bit of a famine going on right now so none of the Gorons are in working condition, but someone happens to direct Frisk to a Zora who lives just out of Goron City.
Following those directions, Frisk and Chara find an elderly turtle man sunning himself on the edge of a hot spring. Chara recognizes him and is confused as to why he’s here. Frisk knows not of their history with this guy though, and just walks up to ask if he can help reforge their sword.
Gerson laughs and says he’s not called the Hammer for nothing, he’s sure he can fix whatever toy sword they broke during target practice. Frisk removes the bundle from their backpack and shows him the shards of the Master Sword. Gerson rubs at his chin. “Hmm. Tricky one, that.”
Can you do it? Frisk writes in their notebook.
“The blade shouldn’t be too hard, I’ve got all the material I need here.“ Chara resists the urge to bring up the missing piece. “The hilt is harder, it’s made of a special material you can’t just melt down and cast into a new shape. I’d need to make another from scratch.“
Is it rare?
“Somewhat. As luck would have it, there is a deposit in the nearby mines, but those are flooded out.”
Frisk looks him up and down. ...Aren’t you like, a turtle? Surely a little water can’t stop you.
Gerson laughs heartily. “A little water is nothing, even for my old bones. Lava, however, poses quite a risk.“
Frisk makes a soft noise of understanding. If I got you a piece of this stuff, could you reforge it then?
“Of course!“ Gerson says. “I’d be delighted to, in fact. Not everyone can say they reforged the Legendary Blade of Evil’s Bane!“
Frisk beams, bundles the shards back up, and tells Gerson they’ll be back soon before hurrying off again. Chara trails them with a skeptical look. “Okay I appreciate the enthusiasm, but how exactly do you plan to get this weird rock? Do you have a supplier or something?”
Frisk slows to a stop, staring into the sky with a look of impending realization.
“...You didn’t think that far ahead, did you.“
Frisk most assuredly didn’t, but they won’t let that stop them! They do some more poking around, and eventually encounter a Hylian bard living it up in the town square, providing a brief moment of levity for the Gorons in this trying time.
Chara wonders how he can stand wearing such impractical clothing in this sweltering volcano, and Mettaton offhandedly mentions something about the laboratory near the peak before he registers that the person he just replied to is a ghost.
The dude doesn’t stick around, leaving Frisk and Chara with just the clue pointing towards the laboratory. It’s not much, but it’s all they’ve got, so they go to investigate.
The lab seems abandoned at first, all dark and messy and stuff. Frisk pokes around a bit, not giving it up as a lost cause just yet, and then Chara hears a weird scuffling noise. Frisk sees them tense, and they turn around just in time to see a flash of golden scales vanishing around a corner.
They give chase, and with a little help from Chara they track down the mysterious creature. A light flickers on, and Frisk finds themself face to face with a yellow Lizalfos in a lab coat.
For a moment, the two of them stare each other, down. Frisk isn’t quite sure what to make of the monster, and the Lizalfos looks kinda like a deer in the headlights. After a moment, though, Frisk’s hand inches towards their sword, and the Lizalfos rears back not to attack, but to frantically wave her hands defensively.
“Wait wait wait I can explain!“ she says, and it takes Chara a moment to dart into the right spot to interpret because they were not expecting a talking lizard. “Y-you see, I’m not a-actually a monster! I-I’m Dr. Alphys, and I’m t-t-totally a normal person, I’m j-just cursed to look like this! J-j-just c-cursed!“
Frisk raises an eyebrow, removing their hand from their sword and straightening up. They glance at Chara, who just shrugs, then dig out their notebook again. Do you need any help with that?
“N-n-no, it’s quite alright!“ Alphys says, looking a little sheepish. “I-I-I don’t get out much s-s-so it’s not like it matters how I look! I’ve got all my brains u-up here, s-so I’m fine!”
Frisk nods, relieved that they don’t have to add another layer to this fetch quest chain. I heard you can make heat-resistant clothing, they write.
“Where did you—“ Alphys starts, before pausing. “O-oh, I suppose I did give Mettaton some of my prototypes... how were they, by the way? That guy never gives me useful feedback.“
Frisk shrugs. He didn’t look bothered by the heat, but honestly it’s not that bad.
“Speak for yourself,“ Chara comments. “I’d be dying if I weren’t already dead. You’re just a weird desert gremlin.“
Frisk ignores them.
Alphys, unaware of the ghost floating next to her, nods thoughtfully. “Good, good, the tests I ran seemed positive but it’s good to have more data. Oh— w-were you interested in my fireproof clothing as well?“
Frisk nods. If it’s available, I’d like to buy a set.
“O-of course! Might I ask what you n-need it for?“
I wanna go into the mines but I hear they got flooded with lava.
Alphys pauses. “...Erm, a-and why do you want that?”
I need a special stone to reforge this legendary sword that got broken.
A long moment passes between them.
“...Can’t argue with that,“ Alphys says, then turns and walks away.
Frisk pays up and Alphys custom fits them with a nice heatproof tunic which I haven’t designed yet, but I probably will eventually and whenever that happens I’ll probably edit in a picture here.
But anyway now they’re decked out in sweet fashion and so they trek off to the mines, which are another dungeon. I don’t have nearly as much to say as I did for the Lost Caverns. It’s a bunch of mines and stuff, there’s magma. They get the Burnt Hammer, which is basically the equivalent of the burnt pan but like. It’s a hammer. And there’s some kinda a monster or possessed machinery or a monster possessing machinery, and after Frisk kicks its ass the mines go back to normal and everyone rejoices and they get a cool blue rock which happens to be timeshift stone but shhhhhhh it’s not that important.
And so they return triumphantly to Gerson’s forge, materials in tow, and ask him to reforge the Master Sword for them. Gerson laughs, declares that they truely do have the soul of a hero. Then he asks what kind of sword they’d like him to make it into, at which point they kinda stall out because they were kinda assuming it’d just be forged back into its original shape.
“Nonsense,“ Gerson says. “Trying to copy the original perfectly is a fool’s errand, and if it’s going to be reforged for a new wielder why not have them choose its shape?“
Frisk agrees with this reasoning, but they don’t know enough about swords to make a decision. Chara, however, does. They tap Frisk on the shoulder, an odd glint in their eye, and spell something out for Frisk to write in their notebook. They show it to Gerson, and he clearly knows what it means as he laughs again and gets right to work on that sword.
It takes time to make a sword, and so Frisk stays a couple nights in Gerson’s cottage. Chara keeps randomly snickering every time the Master Sword comes up in conversation, and they refuse to explain themself, so Frisk just resigns themself to finding out what they told Gerson to make when the sword is done.
After the better part of a week has passed with Frisk doing various sidequests for the Gorons, Gerson finally presents them with the reforged Master Sword.
Frisk unwraps it from the cloth covering carefully, examining the sheath before tugging it free to look at the blade. It’s beautifully crafted, the hilt carved into something reminiscent of a bird while the blade is razor sharp. They can’t help but admire the craftsmanship, and even Chara pauses to ooh and aah a little before they collapse into another fit of giggles.
“You know, it’s kinda funny you picked that kind of sword,“ Gerson comments, and Chara barely manages to pull themself back together enough to interpret. “See, there was this young whippersnapper I used to know, and they always said that was their favourite kind of sword. You know why?“
Frisk tilts their head in a silent question.
“They said it was ‘cause of the way the hilt is put together,“ Gerson explains. “In their words, it isn’t technically a sword. Just a very large knife.“
Chara descends into a full on fit of laughter. Frisk stands there for a long moment, then looks back down at the Master Sword. Then they set it down and take out their notebook. Does that make this the Master Knife, then?
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Gerson joins Chara in laughing. “I like your style,” he tells them, as he follows them to the door. “Remember me after you’ve saved the world, alright, kid?”
Frisk nods, slinging the Master Knife over their back, and slaps Chara on the shoulder on the way out to get them to stop laughing already, it’s not that funny.
(It’s absolutely that funny, Chara insists inside their own head. God they love knives.)
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Golden Boy Part 1: A TMNT 2003 FANFICTION
Summary:  Things haven't been easy since Leo left, a once solid brotherhood built on trust and dependency is close to ruin, but can they save it in time? Or is it irrepairable now?
Fandom: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 2003
Rating: T with mild Violence
Word Count: 2161
a/n I wrote this YEARS ago, so the writing style isn’t up  to date, but I wanted to see how it would do on here
 Don sat at his computer, he only had few more minutes before his shift started and he already dreaded it. He hated his job; it wasn't exactly a secret, as he tried to hide it. Milky told him many times he should quit his job. But he couldn't, they needed the money. And it was an excuse to stay up late, he didn't need it but it was better than sitting up in a chair and waiting for Raph to come home.  And a excuse to drink lots of coffee. Speaking of which, he glanced over from his desk to the kitchen where his heavenous elixir maker sat on the counter. Maybe he could get a cup going before-
ON cue he heard the door slide open, the sound of grunting and groaning followed by a large yawn. The careless cracking of a motorcycle helmet being tossed across concrete floor.
So much for coffee
Now was time for his least favorite part of the night
Donnie quickly turned away from the kitchen to lean back in his seat, even though he didn’t acting like he hadn’t been waiting up till 5 in the morning for his oldest brother. But it helped him feel less ‘motherly, "Hey Raph, where've you been?"
There wasn't an answer, Don turned to see Raph leaning against the fridge with his shoulder and arms crossed and facing Don. If Donnie didn’t know any better, he’d think that Raph was trying to emulate a bad boy from the 50’s. His eyes shifted over to him with barely a care, "Shouldn't the Golden Boy be in bed?"
Ah, Golden Boy. One of the less the affectionate nick-names Raph gave him. It was just one of the many ways Raph chose to show his anger nowadays. Don wished he could say that it was everyone he was treating like this, but it wasn't. Sure Raph wasn't tolerable to Mikey anymore either but it seemed that Raph was going out of his way just to tick Donnie off
Unfortunately, this time had paid off
"I'm getting ready to start my shift. I asked where you've been Raph."
The hiss of carbonation filled the air and a snort that clearly marked his older brother’s amusement. But Don took a deep breath, turning back to his computer to type on the keys, though any numbskull could see his screen was still home the home window. Therefore, his typing was obsolete, “I’m just asking there’s no law against it.”
“Whatever.”  The nonrelated response that indicated Raph had not heard a word he had said. But merely knew Donnie HAD been talking but decided his words weren’t worth the energy to listen to. That and the closing of the fridge followed by fading footsteps
Donnie wanted nothing more than to let him go,
But that’s not what Leo had asked of him when he had designated Donnie leader.
He spun out of his seat just as Raph reached the stairs, “Raph, please. You’re worrying everybody. Not even Casey knows where you’ve been going, remember him? Your best friend? “And by the third step he had reached the bottom of his stairs, “Raph come-on, and talk to me. I don’t care where you’ve been going but I don’t’ want you going alone.  I’ll go, I can help. Anything is better than staying up till sunrise worried to death about you, -“but his brother had already climbed the stairs, “Come on bro, please?!” he reached the second floor. For such a muscle bounded idiot he was fast (and deploying excellent ignoring abilities). The door to Raph’s room slowly closing after him, Don’s hand shot into the darkness, grabbing a hold of a muscle bound arm-
Pain exploded in the center of Don’s face, and the waves of copper filled his mouth. He stumbled back away from the darkened room as his shell hit the railing that kept the family from falling to the living room (which he was never more grateful for). His arm hooked up over the rail to keep from hitting the floor altogether. His free hand smothering the blood now pouring out of his mouth and the pain radiating from his head- his vision was filled with painful lights that indicated probable damage to his skull-
“DON!”  Oh now Raph was concerned. If the sizzling spilled soda running over his feet was anything to go by. A hand grabbed his shoulder, “Shit shit are you ok?! I’m sorry, shit; I didn’t know it was you. Ok so I knew it was you I just reacted-“
‘Just reacted’? Well, Raph’s ‘Just reaction’ left Donnie with an aching head and a hand full of blood. He pulled the hand away from his face long enough to check- oh yup that was a lot of blood.
“Shit, shit shit.” Couldn’t Raph say anything else? “Stay here I’m going to get the first aid kit.” He wanted to tell Raph not to bother, but with the sound of fading running steps he knew there was no point.
And he also knew there was no point in talking.
With his arm still hooked around the railing, he slowly pulled his legs underneath him. Forcing his balance to climb back up to his feet, he leaned over the railing for a moment, struggling with the pounding through his head.
He needed to get to work
One foot in front of the other, the railing only went one way and he knew he’d hit the steps eventually
His shift started in 5 minutes
His family needed that money…
Don’s shoulder bumped into the support beam that marked the end of the railing. Why the hell was he so dizzy? The steps felt like butter beneath his feet, but somehow he managed not to slip down them and wake everyone in the lair. Donnie’s hands gripped the railing for all they were worth (and since he had put them in, he knew what they were worth). His feet finally hit the ground floor. Great, now to get to his desk, the sound of rushing footsteps filled the air from the open hallway again. Sounds like Raph had found the ‘2nd floor’ med kit finally.
“Don?! Donnie where’d you go!?” Don could only roll his eyes, moving toward the back of the stairs, “Oh Dam there you are!” The footsteps hit the stairway. A hand slammed against his shell. But Don’s years of training sent him putting his weight forward and the sound of fingernails barely scraping his shell, “Don,”
“Go ‘way.”  Why were his words slurring so hard? He couldn’t work like that, but the alternative was talking to Raph and giving him attention.
He’d prefer to sound like a drunk.
“I have the med kit, just look at me so I can look at your head.”
What was the point? Donnie turned back to the screen his fingers moving with memory to log in his information. 2 minutes before his shift started, and he got penalized if he logged in late. He couldn’t afford that. Winter was coming up, and the lair needed supplies to be prepped for the cold. Especially for Splinter-
A hand gripped his jaw tightly, a slight tug said the ‘medic’ (Donnie wasn’t sure when they had switched roles) wanted his attention, “Dam it Don just look at me so I can fix your head. I brought your inhaler down, do you need it? I know it’s been a while-“
Though it ached his head to do so, he yanked his jaw free and leaned forward. Dam it, why was the screen so blurry-
“D-Dam it Don!” there was that voice again, grating the back of his brain. Adding to the already painful pulse going through it, “Dam it Don, let me help you.”
Help
Help?
A faint laugh escaped  lazily and dropped from his lips.
“What’s so funny?!” Donnie wasn’t sure how Raph pulled off ‘angry’ and ‘concerned’ at the same time without rupturing his tiny brain, “I didn’t mean to hit you I just reacted, I was half asleep.” oh really? He wasn’t half asleep when he came in, “Just say something, PLEASE. I’ll listen, I swear’ I will. Just tell me what’s going on, tell me you forgive me. Tell me you’re not mad.”
And there it was.
It was what was always expected of him
Everyone around him expected the same thing
I’m sorry Don
I didn’t mean to break it bro
It was an accident
Can you fix it?
You know I need my PlayStation! Please please! It won’t take long!
I know you’re busy, but I need this fixed before our next practice? It’s important
Common Don please help, please fix it
It’s important! You can spare your ‘precious time for us mortals
Donnie fix it!
I”m sorry Don!
Come ‘on get over it
GET OVER IT DONNIE
GET OVER IT!
“Go Away.” Donnie wasn’t sure when he had even spoken, but a cold silence was cast in the room, the hand that had been trying to yank his head in direction of his ‘ big brother’ slid off slowly. It was replaced by a grip gentler grip to his shoulder. Don could just feel the quiver of his brother’s fingers struggling whether or not to squeeze the muscles. Don knew this ‘Raph’. Torn between his own anger, confused by it to a fault.
Donnie knew how to diffuse him.
But the problem was he didn’t care.
Slowly he turned his head back; looking to the older brother he had so depended on. Donnie could remember the night Leonardo had left. That night he had been so taken by panic, the thought of all the responsibility weighing down on him. The thought of taking on two pivotal roles in the family at the same time, he almost hadn’t’ been surprised that he had an asthma attack. But Raph had been there he had come back from Casey and Aprils just in time. The only one to see him in such a torn state, he had gotten Don’s inhaler and helped him clam down, then had stayed up for hours talking to him. A lot of the night was a blur of oxygen deprivation, breathing into paper bags, and a hand rubbing his shoulder. Most of the words were lost with the expansion of time that followed. But Donnie could remember four words that Raph had spoken that night. Being pulled into a tight brotherly hug, they had stayed with him, every night since then when Raph kept his bitter tone and attitude, when he came home drunk and needed someone to get him to his own bed.
“I’m here for you.”
A hand ran back to his shoulder, a small whisper reaching him in a small act of desperation, “Bro-“
“GO. AWAY.” Donnie’s head swerved back over to his brother, it didn’t help the ache was crawling down his spine and neck. An unbearable throb that was spreading like the bubonic plague in the middle ages.
Amber eyes bore at him; desperation lined their normally angry spark that consumed them every day. They begged for forgiveness, they DEMANDED his forgiveness. They wanted him to say he didn’t care about the about the physical attack on his body, or the blood he still felt running down his face.
But Donnie didn’t care.
Slowly the anguish in his eyes began to fade, a glimmer following consuming them slowly. His lips curling and a small vibrations running across his throat. Blaze consuming his eyes and the sound of popping bones in a fist he had previously dented Donnie’s face. Don’s head turned back to the monitor, picking up the headpiece to put in place as he pressed a button on the side, putting him on duty and back to work. And also indicating the end of their conversation.
Something emerald green shot by his head, one of his monitors exploded into a frenzy of spark and lights underneath an angry growl.  A thick voice reaching his ear
“Just go and die already.”
Heavy steps stomped away. Retreating up the stairs and disappearing behind a slamming door.
The Lair descended back into silence and the air lifted up from the missing tension. Don could feel the buttons of his keyboard move ever so gently under shaking fingers.  He drew away long enough to rub his scalp, rubbing his mouth on the back of his hand to drain the rest of the blood, but a faint trickle indicated the still fresh flow.  His limbs heavy from sudden exhaustion
Maybe he could lay his head down for a moment
Just for a moment
Just to close his eyes.
Just before he started his shift….
Just before life took anything else from him
Just a break from being the “Golden Boy”
Here’s the rest that i’ve updated so far if you want to read the  https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10466046/1/Golden-Boy
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