#each trial ended up needing more n more dialogue but seeing how long the in game trials are im pretty proud of myself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bluepoodle7 · 10 months

Text

#Illbleed #ZableFable #IfZableFableWasInIllbleed#MyThoughts

If Zable Fable realm jumped to Illbleed she would be a little spooked at first but would be taking pictures of everything.

If she/ the other versions marketed a trap right she would say "got em" and do this to the disarmed traps.

She/ the other versions would fall down and crawl around on the ground when first meeting a monster enemy then get up.

But if she/ the other versions sees the same enemy she won't fall over and fight back.

When calling the helicopter she would say help but the faster you hit the button she speeds up saying help then when she gets on the ladder she waves to the monster and says see ya or smell ya later while smiling.

Her/the other version's dodge noise would be Hup!

Monster encounter noise What?

Zable Fable if they would revisit Illbleed with another person would be like. "I know this place like the back of my hand."

Then is on a different pattern and falls into a new trap.

"That was new."

ENTRY NO. 0001999

When you pick Zable from the Id The Id would be.

Name: Zable Fable

Sex: N/A

Age: 25

Blood Type: -O

Eye Color: Green

Occupation: Interviewer

Nationality : N/A

When choosing Zable each version will say "Nice Choice."

But sometimes in Shiften.

The Id gender will change when the character loads up in stage.

Can either be a male or female Zable.

During stage 5 both version of Zable will have different dialogue but will be sassy or joking about the level.

Like saying how many steps they got from walking in the long morgue and why Jorg was sliding instead of walking off screen.

Saying hey where did the cool movie go from the movie text crawl and why is there a body here?

And saying they hate back tracking and misses the level 3 woodpuppet form.

Making jokes about finding food in weird places in levels and wondering how they haven't got sick yet or even a taste/touch mechanic isn't in this game.

Also react by saying "What!?" or snickering about fingering Jason, nailing Cunningham, and Cunningham sweat.

"Hey wait a minute."

Also saying this.

"If a gymnast can jump that high and shoot lasers like a super saiyan then I need to work out more."

When trying to pick who did the murder they have to choose who did it.

And they see the Player icon.

"Hey, that doesn't look like me and we are in a game?"

"Wait why is Killerman here?!"

I imagine Zable being a reverse Eriko.

Like Zable has fear but uses weirdness and jokes to cope with being scared of something at first then the more they see it or talk to the fear causer the less they get scared of it.

Zable is not afraid to fight back just in case.

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Images, music, games, and videos not mine but links are there.

Finger Gun Images: Browse 31,498 Stock Photos & Vectors Free Download with Trial | Shutterstock

Zable Fable when she realm jumps or just drops in randomly in a place she doesn't fit or belong in be like.

Undertale Wrong Enemy !? (So Sorry's theme) Dual Mix - YouTube

My oc Zable Fable when she leaves a place that was nice to her be like.

Then realm jumps home from her job be like.

Klonoa 2 - Farewell Again - YouTube

Klonoa 2 - Toward The... - YouTube

Blinx the time sweeper: Ending and Credits - YouTube

What I image my oc Zable Fable singing randomly to the Doeballs in the uncanny valley.

And John Doe just watching from a far.

[Rhythm Heaven] - Fan Club (Perfect) (English) - YouTube

[Rhythm Heaven Megamix] - Fan Club 2 (Perfect) (English) - YouTube

If my oc Zable Fable saw this version of John Doe looking like a slasher movie villain she would be like a Illbleed character mostly Eriko.

Art by @mortisfox on twt in 2023 | John doe, Yandere, Yandere boy (pinterest.com)

If they know each other well. By falling down and quickly getting up.

If not knowing each other then she would be crawling around on the ground while Doe gets free hits in.

Doe appearing like this with the Illbleed beta sfx twinge noise be like. (I can stop if this is annoying.)

Illbleed Dreamcast Gameplay_2001_01_19_1 - YouTube

1:10:15-1:10:51

Zable Fable when she/the other versions of the character fight monsters with knifes be like.

Images and video not mine but link is there.

Snek plays Illbleed (No Commentary) (Sega Dreamcast 2001) Part 4 (Killer Department Store) - YouTube

Tried to make Zable Fable's name in Illbleed Font.

A blog about obscurity stuff, plushies and food. on Tumblr - search: Illbleed font

Where the no data message came from.

The Spriters Resource - Full Sheet View - Illbleed - Character Related Sprites (spriters-resource.com)

If Zable Fable had a backstory like the manual it would be this.

This character randomly traveled to Illbleed by unknown means to everyone but needs to interview people for their job to help this character travel home to a unknown world to everyone this character meets.

This character seems to have a unique accent that no one knows the origins too.

This character is very sassy when they need to but is a way to be less scared of things which causes the pulse to try to stay at a low rate instead of rising.

This character isn't really into horror movies unless it's a body swap ones or ones with transformations like werewolves or vampires but likes to be a critic on the lore on those beasts.

Also interested in living haunted houses or similar beings and wondering how mimic monster's whole body system works.

But mostly loves B movie horror movies and shows that know that they are not scary but are having fun.

While also loving the art that comes from the B movie horror costumes and the animatronics that seems like the show or movie put effort into it.

This character is 25 years old and when first meeting a monster they crawl around but when seeing the same monster this character will rise quickly then fight back twice as hard even when the same monster has multiples of themselves.

Zable Fable hates salads but will eat it but would rather have a steak dinner and will question the weird locations each food or drink was found in while being shocked that these foods and drinks didn't make them sick.

Zable Fable doesn't really need the prize money but if the character does win this character would retire and get a nice house away from the press while buying limited edition merch or custom merch to decorate their house.

Zable Fable would also be interested in when people get possessed in stories or in cartoons by a ghost then where does the host go when the ghost posses the body?

Does the original person just wait in a void, try to fight back but feels like they are behind glass, or just sleep.

If Zable Fable was a rescued party member I would put the character in level 4 near where the multiple tv are with a fall down bear with axe on the head coming out falling out of the tv and is huge then you have to either fight the fall down bear or narrow escape three times.

I can see the fall down bear death animation be the cartoon bear falling down by tripping then the axe is removed while blood goes everywhere and later have a cutscene of fall down bear turning into a blue ghost then hiding back in the tv but after fall down in the tv.

If Zable Fable was rescued I would let the player character offer a food to both version's since their hit points are really low.

You can give them the steak dinner, salad, and Hell Cake.

But each one gets a different cutscene response but the salad gets the worst response.

The steak dinner is the best choice for both version's of Zable since they would think the Hell Cake is too cute or cool to eat and might be freaked out by the severed head on the cake thinking it might be real.

Maybe drink a Hassy will work.

Zable Fable would be one of those character's who would ask the tutorial Cork questions once any version of the character transforms or wears the Cork costume.

Like asking when the story mark events activate does the player character just stand there doing the amusement park mascot no talk rule with a Cork voice speaker speaking for the Cork costume in the story?

Let's Play ILLBLEED Part 14 - Kid's World - YouTube

#Fall Down Bear – @bluepoodle7 on Tumblr

Zable's Cd be sounding like.

PYROTOSH PLUS - ４２０ＢＥＡＣＨＷＡＬＫ (youtube.com)

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Zable Fable when they do a food review in the Uncanny Valley Café then sees a Realtor looking back at them smiling be like.

[SFM] Taco Review - YouTube

Zable Fable when they randomly realm jump to the uncanny valley on day one be like.

McDonalds Commercial for the McGriddles - YouTube

Videos not mine but links are there.

#Illbleed #Zable Fable #If Zable Fable Was In Illbleed #My Thoughts

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

Let It All Come Crashing Down

Batbrother x Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language, Mentions of Past Assault/Abuse

Author's Note: One of my favorite episodes of Criminal Minds was always the one where Morgan came face to face with his abuser. The dialogue at the end of the episode fits Batbrother's past too. But, this does mention past assault. If this is a triggering subject, please don't read. -Thorne

**********************************************************************

When he’d told Dick about the incident when he was seventeen, he didn’t expect it was going to come back full front. He’d kept tabs on the man whenever his former CO would move bases, when he promoted, when he eventually retired and relocated to Gotham City, opening a military assistance center. It was a farce, and he knew it. A place where the old CO could still continue his reign of fear on those still in the military and those outside.

***

He stared at the screen in the Batcave, ignoring the bickering of his youngest sibling and his father’s oldest friend, recounting every moment that led to the mission. A woman his age found dead, murdered, the brother charged with the crime. All evidence supported the facts, but (Y/N) knew. He knew deep down something else was going on, especially when he learned that the brother had attended the center in Gotham.

“Isaac Keegan is going to be sent to Blackgate tonight,” Bruce murmured. “He won’t last the night.”

(Y/N) shook his head. “He didn’t do this.”

His father glanced at him. “How do you know?”

“Doesn’t matter how I know,” he retorted with mild annoyance. “But I know who really did this.” He turned, glancing at Ghost-Maker. “Think you can get Isaac out of the armed van and back here without anyone dying?”

The vigilante cocked his arms over his chest. “Of course. But why do you wanna talk to him?”

“I don’t. But I need him alive long enough to get a confession out of the real killer.” (Y/N) answered, looking at Tim with a gaze that had his younger brother’s spine going straight; he could feel the seriousness ebbing from his older brother. “And I’m going to need your help with this.”

***

He didn’t like stepping into enemy territory without protection. He felt naked without his nano suit, even more so without his sidearm, but the last thing he needed was for the metal detectors in the building to go off and let the remaining people inside know he was there.

Slipping down the halls, he took a moment to catch his breath before he turned the corner into his old CO’s office.

“Davis.”

The older man looked up, eyes widening at the sight of his former subordinate. “(Y/N)? Is that—you’re alive?”

“I am,” he answered and Davis’ face split into a fake smile.

“I thought you’d died years ago in Afghanistan.”

“Not exactly.” (Y/N) kept away from the desk, away from close contact; he knew he could take the man, but he wanted the confession first before they came to blows, if they did. “I heard about Jessica Keegan.”

Davis frowned. “It’s a shame what happened to her. Even more so a shame that Isaac was the one who did it.” He shook his head. “I thought he was doing to well with his treatments too.”

(Y/N) tapped the device in his pocket. Now Tim. “Except that Isaac didn’t kill Jessica.”

“Excuse me?”

“All these years, I’ve kept my mouth shut,” (Y/N) said. “I’ve let you go on being a hero. Admiral Davis, the great war hero.”

“What in the world are you talking about?” Davis questioned, face contorting in confusion and the younger man scowled.

“God, I was so afraid of you when we were in Afghanistan,” he admitted. “I was afraid of going to Command about it all. Afraid of losing every promotion and achievement I was being given.” (Y/N) stepped forward, expression shifting to anger. “But that’s how you’ve always worked, isn’t it? You made sure there was a helluva lot to lose if someone came forward, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you think you remember about Afghanistan,” Davis said. “But—”

“No, no, no,” he interrupted. “See it’s not what I remember that’s going to hurt you, Davis. The business between us has been over way too long ago to matter.” (Y/N) explained. “You’re protected by a statute of limitations and that’s my fault.”

Davis shrugged. “Then good evening.”

He glared. “You set Isaac up! You knew his sister wanted him to call someone about you. So you killed her and framed him as a distressed veteran?” (Y/N)’s face pinched as he accused, “You killed her because you knew someone was going to piece it all together and come after you, didn’t you?”

“Now you’re just throwing accusations around.” Davis replied and (Y/N) slapped a decoration off his desk.

It shattered and he shouted, “God, I should’ve told someone about you when I was in Afghanistan! When you were ‘training’ me.” He took another step forward, voice lowering dangerously. “Well, you know what happens in cases like this? Once that dam breaks, the flood comes.”

He raised a finger. “One servicemember stands up, just one. And then another one, and another. Because they’re not afraid of your repercussions anymore—they know they’re not alone.” (Y/N) tipped his head up. “Isaac Keegan is your dam.”

For the first time since they’d started speaking, Davis showed his anger as he barked, “Whatever lies Isaac told you—”

“THEY ARE NOT LIES!” (Y/N) yelled. “YOU DID THE SAME THINGS TO ME!”

“I didn’t do a damn thing to you or to Isaac—”

“One by one, they’re going to pile up until there’s so many accusations, you can’t say that they’re all lies!”

Davis thrust his hands to his chest. “Do you have any idea how many men and women I helped promote? How many lives I’ve saved with my service?” He gestured to (Y/N). “Look at you! You would’ve been dead in a shallow grave if I hadn’t helped you.”

“Yeah, well that shit wasn’t for free, was it?” (Y/N) demanded, throat tightening with emotion.

“I pulled you out of the gutter.” Davis murmured.

He shook his head, the tears of anger flashing the pain from his voice. “I pulled myself out of the gutter! All the way to the top military squads! I did that!”

“You’re saying I had nothing to do with making you who you are?” Davis questioned, a look of offense on his face.

(Y/N)’s rage cooled, shoulders sinking back as he raised his head and admitted, “No Davis. Actually, I’m saying you have everything to do with making me who I am.” He gazed at the man. “Because of what you did to me, I’m the man who’s going to spend the rest of his life making sure abusers of power like you face the consequences.”

“(Y/N),” Davis comforted. “I never meant to hurt you.” His expression turned sympathetic. “You could’ve said no.”

He turned his head away, jaw clenching so hard it hurt, then he looked back at him, and two men turned the doorway. (Y/N) watched Davis’ eyes widen in shock.

“Quinton Davis, you’re under arrest for the rape and murder of Jessica Keegan.” The two military police officers walked around (Y/N), and each took an arm.

Davis shifted. “I’ve helped a lot of veterans and service members.” He started thrashing. “Nothing in this goddamn city is going to be the same with me. Without the center, who’s going to look after them?”

His expression hardened. “Wayne Enterprises will. I will.”

“Wait a minute damnit!” he looked at (Y/N), pleading, “(Y/N), please, isn’t there anything you can do for me?”

(Y/N) got in Davis’ face. “You can rot in hell.”

He watched the MP’s drag away the screaming man before letting out a shaky breath and reaching up to his chest, yanking off the necklace that had the camera built into it. Tim had no doubt cut the feed by now and he shoved it in his pocket, free hand coming up to wipe away the tears in his eyes.

***

“What happens now?” the young man asked, dark circles under his eyes making him seem wearier.

(Y/N) sighed. “There’s going to be a trial. Davis will face the consequences.”

Isaac frowned. “I’m going to have to testify, aren’t I?”

“Yes. But I know who the prosecutor is. She’s good. She’ll nail Davis to the wall for everything.”

“I…I don’t know if I can do it.”

He reached out and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Then do it for Jessica.”

“I miss her.” Isaac whispered, head lowering as he sniffed. “I should’ve spoken out sooner.”

“I know,” (Y/N) murmured. “I feel the same.”

His head cocked up, teary eyes gazing into (Y/N)’s. “Will you be there?”

“I’ll probably be called by the prosecutors to testify.” He shrugged. “But with the statute of limitations, I don’t know how much it’s going to weight in our favor.”

“But you already told the world about your past with Davis?” Isaac said. “We—we all watched it live.”

“That was just the start.” (Y/N) said. “We have to see it to the end. For all the servicemen and women he abused over the years.” He turned, looking at Nightwing and Red Hood. “They’ll take you back to your apartment.”

Isaac nodded, starting to follow, then he stopped and looked back at (Y/N). “How’d you go on after Afghanistan?”

He met the young man’s eyes, then he glanced at his family. “I was still needed. Still am.” (Y/N) turned back to Isaac. “You never forget it…but it does get better.” He stuck his hand out. “And I’ll be there when you need me.”

They shook hands and he watched Isaac walk off with his brothers before he turned and moved to the railing overlooking Gotham Bay. A multitude of emotions swirled in his chest, but a sense of relief rested on his shoulders, and he let his head drop, the tears starting to drip down his cheeks.

Someone’s hand rested between his shoulder blades, followed by a deep voice comforting, “It’s okay, son.”

He shook his head. “I should’ve said something earlier.”

“It’s not your fault,” Bruce affirmed. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

(Y/N) looked up, gazing at his father. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” the man murmured, expression soft. “But why didn’t you come to me?”

He paused, inhaling shakily as he said, “It only lasted for a short time. I was promoted and inducted into the super soldier program.” He shrugged. “By the time I finally wanted to tell someone, Davis had already left the compound and too much time had passed for it to matter.”

(Y/N) gazed out at the water. “It’s not over…but the world knows what he really is now. And all the people who suffered are going to see justice.”

Bruce leaned on the railing next to him. “You don’t show many signs of a survivor,” he noted. “You keep it all under wraps.”

“I learned during the super soldier program that there are worse things than what happened to me.” (Y/N) sighed. “Davis’ abuse might be what makes me so hateful of abusers, but when I started the team, I refused to let it control me and my life.” He raised his head. “I was going to live my life to the fullest, with whoever I wanted and even if I never told anyone, that was going to be the one part of me no one would ever take away.”

His father observed him for a moment then he stood, nudging (Y/N) until he did too; they looked at one another, a father and a son, and Bruce said, “I’m proud of you, (Y/N). For everything.”

(Y/N)’s mouth opened and snapped shut once, twice, a third time, then he raised one hand to cover his eyes as the lower half of his face twisted in pain, the other fumbling blindly for Bruce. His father caught him, one strong arm wrapping around (Y/N)’s back, the other pressing his son’s head to his shoulder.

“I’m here son,” he murmured. “I’m always going to be here.” He pressed his lips to the young man’s temple. “And I love you son. So much.”

“I love you too, dad,” he choked out, holding onto his father for dear life.

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yostresswritinggirl · 3 years

Note

Hello, may I request for Albedo hcs for an s/o who is inattentive? For example, the reader has difficulty reading long sentences or paying attention for a short time span, and ends up zoning out a lot? (If you're comfortable with this request of course, since it comes from me having inattentive adhd, or if you aren't too busy...) (But other than that please take care of yourself (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)) Thank you ( ╹▽╹ )

:DD

Somehow these requests are pulling out my Psychology teachings ahahha- this is honestly such a nice prompt cuz I miss my college roomie, I love her so much and she has adhd. I might be projecting but I'll be using her techniques in this too! This was so cute and fun to work on awwwwwwwwww thank you anon!

The Curious Case of S/O

Albedo with a Reader that has a hard time focusing

I saw someone hc Albedo as an autistic character and I actually agree with it, so some of that aspect will seep in to this answer eheh-

SO!

When it comes to things Albedo is passionate about, he keeps himself grounded and focused on it for an unhealthy period

So when Albedo found out about your curious case, safe to say he was intrigued too, and sometimes frustrated

You’re all over the place and it kind of irks him when you can’t stay put and just- keep moving to different stuff?

But Albedo knew this before you got together and he took it upon himself to make sure you’re taken care of whenever such episodes happen, he’s your lover and a genius, he can and will find a way

Reading: Albedo loves reading literature and will offer to read out the text for you if you get frustrated enough over it. He may not have all the time in the world, but if it’s important that you understand this text he will make sure you do so

His voice is really nice and calming, but sometimes- you get so lost in them that you ended up just focusing on his voice instead of uhhh paying attention to what he was saying

big sigh

If that approach doesn’t work then he’s got another trick up his sleeves!

Doodles, sketches, all that cute artistic stuff!

There’s a chance you already do this but he’s gonna make this 95% more effective!

When taking notes for big texts, he’s gonna draw little doodles to the side so you can get a good grasp of what it means just by looking over it.

If the text is especially long, he’ll give it a quick once over, and then rewrite it just to highlight the most important parts you need to remember

He’ll take it up a notch and use different colored pens to write over it so you would know what you need to read without going through the whole chapter

If he wills it, Albedo would find himself incorporating such techniques on his notes as well and he’ll just chuckle at his antics (smiling every time he remembers you through his lil notes)

Being inattentive also makes it so you forget or not take note of important stuff

Chief Alchemist also has a good remedy for this!

Given, this was established after numerous trials and errors of finding the best route

F I N G E R R I N G B A N D S

This boyo had this genius enlightenment of an idea one day and prepared the necessary materials

Ngl you actually thought he was gonna propose when he offered that golden ring, you were about to cry

until you see him bring out ten more rings, multi-colored

w h a t

And so he explains as he grasps your non-dominant hand:

“Your thumb represents the early morning, from when you wake up after the sun.

Your index finger signifies the period of 12PM, the moments the busy-ness starts, never forget to eat lunch always, darling.

Your middle finger is the longest and busiest hour, the middle of the afternoon where the sun is high up in the sky. You’ll find yourself running around a lot during this period, and I won’t always be there to remind you.

Your ring finger,” he pauses to give it a gentle kiss, “someday. But anyways, this is the period when the darkness starts to devour the sky in place of the sun. You should be cleaning up and finishing all other tasks at this period.

And finally your pinky finger, almost at the dead hours of the night, god knows what you’ll be doing at this time when you should be ready for rest. I don’t want to see a lot or any rings here, for you should be in my arms by this time.”

After that heart-warming, proposal-like dialogue, he’ll offer the rings and explain as best he can

The red ring represents deadlines; blue stands for commissions; white is for meet-ups; pink is for self-care or routines

He holds up the gold rings with a soft smile, placing one in each finger as he explains, “This one stands for me. Make sure that on every finger I am there, to remind you that I wish to know how you are, to accompany me so that I can remind you that I love you every day of the year.”

If you’re still alive after this, good for you

OTherwise I’m dead, this man is so cheesy and hnghhh-

After all that, Albedo wakes up with you and helps you organize your rings for the day <3

It looks nice and glamorous on your hand, and even if you get distracted by it, you’ll find yourself being reminded of what you need to do

Genuis boyo

But that’s not even 100% of his power

nononono he has another solution and this was something he picked up after spending time with you

His pretty t e a l eyes (just look at that damn banner)

You seem to stop everything when he focuses his eyes on you, eye contact, like you’re grounded or crystallized

Somehow when you see eye-to-eye it gives him enough time to remind you that you’re focusing on the wrong thing, go back to your notes

It’s just- so pretty :((

Works 99% of the time!

The rare 1% it doesn’t work tho, you get this very rare moment: before you can even move away from your task, finding yourself not caring about it again, he’ll just wrap his arms around you from behind. They’re comfortably tight, grounding your feet to the floor as he whines against your hair, scolding you and telling you to finish your stuff first

You couldn’t say no to a cute whiney Albedo

You can’t

//brings out knife// You better not-

Bonus: Albedo likes to focus on the important things, but he’s easily intrigued by curious things too

And with your tendency to lose focus and notice other things, this becomes a chaotic series of events

You’re both silently sitting in his laboratory, him sketching a diagram of his current research

You look up from the papers you were reading as you lose focus and the movement would easily catch Albedo’s attention, ready to move his lips to call you back-

“Oh, is that Crystalfly changing colors out there?”

“Huh?”

You’re both rushing to the window where you saw the phenomenon

And then you’re both running out to investigate further <3

All of Mond watches you two’s antics and finds you just to be the cutest couple in existence. Albedo has two Klee’s to take care of, is what it would look like sometimes.

PS. This is not an Albedo Blog

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact albedo #albedo #albedo x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scenarios #exile.goblet #exile.flower #followers special #hope you like it!#I enjoyed writing about Albedo even tho I'm very worried that im turning into an albedo blog sksksksk #next req is also albedo hngh #i hope you guys know i dont just write for albedo hhh #no hate tho #just curious why it's all ALBEDO #gender neutral

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lunarrwolf · 3 years

Text

masterlist

coffee over boys: a college au

chapter(s)

☕️ 06: it isn’t a date, right?

☕️ previous

☕️ next

taglist

@minninugget @chai-tea-isnt-real @speedmetalqueen @the-fandoms-georgie @cheesecakes-randomshitz @theunicornnamedearl

chapter(s)

a study group that just wasn’t meant to study, and someone gets asked out on a date.. or do they?

you watched in as much exasperation as your face allowed you to show as tetsutetsu was, once again, making you all watch him play detroit: become human. there was always a point in the game where the silver haired twenty year old got stuck on an action scene, and after minutes of vigorous back-and-forth you would take the control and make it through with such ease. the mashing of combinations you had to do all blurred together somewhere around four months ago when he first replayed it to get a new outcome. he was more determined than ever to receive every ending but the ones that included ‘red connor’, and if he ever accidentally got the android killed he would cry. ‘the bestest boy should never have to be shot in the head’, he would sob.

when it came time to meet the creator of cyberlife for the sixth time, the dialogue was drowned out by a whine so high pitched it would heed the attention of the dogs in the pet dorms. the pause menu appeared and three heads looked over to find the blonde man splayed across the floor, face buried in a pillow he grabbed earlier. feeling the stares, he lifted his head just enough to look each of you in the eye before motioning towards the television. “how is this happening?! he always gets us sidetracked before we even start, and we all have tests in a few days. i swear to all might—”

“it would actually be ‘swear to endeavor’ since he’s been the new number one for a while.. but okay.”

shinso’s deadpan expression met with monoma’s glare, which earned a shrug before the mauve boy went back to his textbook. the only one that ever got actual work done when you all studied together. he was much better at blocking out distractions than anyone else you knew.

hopefully it would carry on seeing as on top of pre-thanksgiving tests, amajiki still wasn’t back from the mission. it had been a couple of days and he kept in constant contact but it just gave you a weird feeling. mostly because, depending on how he felt that day, you always waited a few hours or a day or so before receiving a response. studying was important, of course. and there wasn’t any reason to think something else was going on when you weren’t even an actual pro hero. you got the license but you chose to fully focus on school and saving up for a place to live on your own.

“hey, y/n. do you have the notes from our last english class?”

you blinked, ceasing the tapping of your pencil’s eraser as you looked over at shinso, who hasn’t once looked up from his own scribbles. “yeah, i have them.” you reached into the bag leaning against the leg of the bed frame, pulling out the binder used for said class. when the pages flipped to the last lecture, you handed him the notebook, turning back to your own materials.

there was comfortable silence as everyone surprisingly forgot about the video game long enough to focus on what they had to remember. not only were the general classes having exams but aizawa shouta let you all know that he was holding a physical. that meant everyone needed to be on their game with quirks and ultimate moves. eraserhead’s trials were quarterly. since most of the ua high school graduates chose being a full-time student over splitting it between education and hero work, he made each one tougher to keep you all on your toes. “do you guys think aizawa-sensei will let us deal with actual villains this time?”

“i doubt it. he always uses the sports arena for them.” monoma stated, barely glancing at tetsu.

“maybe if shinso talks to him.” you suggested, knowing full well the young man was already narrowing his eyes your way.

“just because he trained me a bit in high school doesn’t mean i have an advantage in asking pointless questions.”

“he basically raised you during school hours but whatever helps you sleep at night.” tetsu countered. he was practically hugging the textbook before him as he flipped through chapters of computer terminology and artificial intelligence. with how much he joked around it was sometimes hard to remember what his major was.

monoma sighed with the usual dramatic flare, aimlessly going through his own notebook so he could put effort into the conversation. “y/n just wants to see that redhead from high school go all rock-man again.”

a beat of silence occurred as you mulled things over. shutting the book with one hand keeping the pages open, you gazed upon your best friends in bewilderment. “i do not—”

“you met him barely two weeks ago and you’re already clowning over his hero persona because of one video.” shinso pointed out, albeit bluntly.

“...i just admire his skill set. i can’t do close combat like that with my quirk.”

“okay.” they all spoke in unison, only gaining the return of exasperation. about to snap back with a statement of your own, it was prematurely disrupted by the buzzing of a cellphone. your phone.

“hey, i just got a text from kirishima about a festival that’s happening before fall break. are any of you going?”

“too many people.”

“if they’re selling any crowns, i might go for that.”

you laughed at the other friends’ responses, shaking your head a bit and nodding your head at the steel quirked boy. “i was invited to join the others, so i think so. it would be a great way to relax after all the work we’ve been doing already.”

“then it’s settled!” he stood up suddenly, books that were on his lap now splayed out on the floor after the spontaneous fall. “we’ll go, buy crowns for mono if they have some, and get you a real date with my intern brother—”

“i don’t date—”

“and beat everyone at everything because we’re the best!!”

“...someone please come with us.”

“no.” and with the way the two who always bickered like a married couple coming to that instant agreement, you knew it you’d be on your own to babysit the fourth person in your quad. and maybe silently fawn over a certain someone.

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reaperintheroses · 3 years

Text

My Pilot

Poe Dameron x Reader

A/N: this is the first time I’ve ever done head cannons and written starwars. This is relatively long and I’m not super proud of the ending. Same as last time I tried to keep it gender neutral so if there are any pronouns for the reader other than they/them please let me know so I can fix it. Also requests are open.

Warnings: death, angst, reader is pretty malnourished in the beginning, there isn’t a ton of dialogue, hinted use of a sedative, hospitals, passing out, talk of execution, angst, fluff.

Now you had lived on Hosnian Prime for about as long as you could remember

You didn’t live directly in the city but more in the countryside

So when the first order invaded your planet your small town was one of the first to be taken over

Now it was important to note that your mother and father had fought for the resistance against the empire all those years ago and you had kept your father’s resistance jacket.

So it wasn’t helpful that if you were discovered to have any links to the resistance, old or new, that you would be executed

You weren’t going to get rid of the jacket, it was the last piece you had of your parents

Though 5 days later when the first order came knocking on your door you realized that you probably should have done something smarter with it than just hide the jacket under a loose floorboard in your bedroom

They asked if it was fine to do a random search to make sure you weren’t hiding any illegal contraband

They were in your house for maybe ten minutes before they found the jacket

You had a fast and unfair trial where you were quickly sentenced to death

Your parents would be so disappointed if they knew you just stopped fighting

You stopped caring about what happened to yourself.

They stored you in what used to be the small city jail and kind of forgot about you

You had no clue how many days had passed or what season you were in now

The only time you really felt something was when one of the guards came in and told you that you had three days left

You just nodded and went back to sleeping, tears staining your cheeks

Death was scary, man how could you not be scared

So much to your surprise a little while later a loud bang woke you up

Shooting up you looked around for somewhere to hide and when you realized there was nowhere you backed yourself into the corner of the old cell

‘Was this the end’ you wondered in the longest three minutes of all time as you waited to see what had caused the large noise

So when a man wearing the ugliest shade of orange you ever had the misfortune of laying your eyes across slid into your view

Let’s just say your interest was quite peaked

He started yelling that there wasn’t time to waste and you just raised your eyebrows

He managed to get your cell open and grabbed your hand pulling you through the building, turning around every few seconds to make sure that you hadn't died

When you stepped outside the first thing you felt was shock

At the time of your arrest and trial, it had been in the dead of winter and from the looks of it it was almost summer

The second thing you felt was self-conscious about how you looked and smelled, you weren't going to deny the man in front of you was quite hot regardless of the blood and sweat all over his suit

The third thing you felt was pain

The sunlight felt far too bright and it blinded you for about a minute and then started to give you a pounding headache

Keeping your eyes shut you just trusted your rescuer to help guide you so that you wouldn't have to open your eyes and face the bright suns beating down on you

You had no clue how long you were running for all you knew was that it was a long time and a while back you cut your leg on a bush or something

You opened your eyes a little later and saw that you were face to face with an x-wing

He climbed up and started hitting different switches trying to prepare the ship for take-off

He shouted down to you to hop up and that one you were safely in hyperspace he would help you clean your leg

Grabbing the later you swung your body into the ship and strapped yourself in

You heard shouts coming from a distance and your eyes widened

You didn’t want to rush him but you were starting to get scared

Right as the stormtroopers started to approach where you were the ship shot up off the ground

When the shit started to leave the planet’s atmosphere you started to get a little dizzy

Lights started swimming in your vision and you reached for the sides of the ship to help steady yourself

Right as the pilot turns around and starts to ask a question you slump forward in your seat a pounding headache causing you to pass out

You woke up strapped to a bed in a very strange place that smelt strangely of lemons

Citrus smell set aside a strange place is still a strange place 11/10 would not recommend

After quickly shaking your head to clear the fuzzy feeling you started to struggle in an attempt to escape the straps that kept you tied to the cot

Before you could even manage to undo the first one though the pilot came running in along with a nurse and one or two more people

The pilot put his hand on your forehead telling you that your okay and that the nurse was just going to give you something to help you calm down

You stop struggling but only because a large sleepy feeling is taking over you

Your holding onto the cliff of consciousness with only your fingertips you can feel the pilot smoothing his hand over your forehead telling you that it's okay to let go and that he’ll be here when you wake up

The cliff breaks and as the last pebbles fall into the dark abyss of sleep you fall with them.

Waking up round two is a little better

You look over and see the pilot asleep in a chair next to you, snoring softly

It’s endearing honestly

Without all of life’s stresses and the fate of the galaxy resting on his shoulders he looked way younger

Earlier when the two of you were racing against stormtroopers and fighting to escape your planet he was hot

But now he was just plain cute

You coughed slightly and he jolted out of his sleep

He hit a button above his head before sitting up and stretching

He looked down at you and you looked up at him with a questioning look

“Your safe, they aren’t gonna hurt you anymore,” he replied back down to you in a soft tone

Oh thank the gods

The two of you just stared at each other for a few more minutes before a nurse came in and kicked him out so she could do an examination without him distracting her

She started asking you questions about when you last ate, how much fluid you had consumed in the past day, etc.

It was hard to answer

She talked about how you would need to be fed through a tube to help get your strength back up but once you got back to a sustainable weight you would be able to start eating solid food again

You nodded at the appropriate time trying to show your focus but your mind was elsewhere

You couldn’t stop thinking about the pilot

You think somewhere in her information dump she realized that you were thinking about completely off-topic things

She made to leave and right as she was about to swing out the door you opened your mouth

For the first time in months, you started to speak

You croaked out a gentle “where am I?”

Your nurse smiled at you and replied “Oh honey, you’re on the resistance base.” she left the room without another word and you shut your eyes as you smiled feeling small tears of joy seep out of your eyes

The pilot would come and visit you almost every day and tell you about everything and nothing from small things like what some of the members of his squadron did at lunch to things like his family back home on Yavin 4, to occasionally stories about his mother who was in the resistance along with your parents.

Even when he couldn’t be there due to missions he would always write you a letter before you left, telling you to keep your head up and that he would be back soon to tell you about all the stars

Every time you missed him you would read his letters, sometimes your shoulders would shake with silent tears, and others with full out laughing fits at the small jokes he would put in there.

He once told you that you were the first person he would come see after he returned regardless of what he had to do once he returned

In the very beginning, he would come to you straight after he landed but the smell of gasoline gave you a headache and that gods-awful flight suit made you want to kick him so you told the nurse to make sure that he showered after returning from a mission before coming to see you

You hadn’t worked up the nerve to talk to the pilot yet. You were worried that he would see you as all healed up and abandon you for the next person he saw who he fancied, you heard the nurses gossip sometimes about him

NOT to imply that the pilot fancied you, nor you him.

You didn’t like him, nope not one bit

You told yourself this all the time but the moment he flashed that damn smile at you it was like the wall you had built around your heart constructed exactly with those words would fall a small bit and once he left you would have to spend hours reconstructing it by telling yourself that he was just watching over you to make sure that you pulled through and then he would leave you in the dust

Love was scary

But when your pilot came to visit you he would talk and talk and talk, and when he wasn’t there? You would fantasize a life with him once this war was over

When you started calling him your pilot?

Honestly couldn’t tell you the line was kinda blurred

You would tell yourself every time he would come that this would be the time you talked to him

It never happened

You were talking plenty now

You would talk to the nurses when they would bring you food or come check on you

It was just nerve racking to talk to your pilot

But when he came in next time, with an encouraging nod from your nurse, you replied to something he said

He just asked a question about what you ate

Normally he would just throw in that question before telling you about what the cafeteria had for breakfast

Before he could answer his own question you just replied quietly “toast and eggs”

He started to answer his question before doing a double take and looking back down at you

“You talk?” you just smiled at him playfully, reveling in his shock for a moment

It wasn’t nearly as bad as you anticipated

After that conversation came far easier

Now at this point your probably able to walk around the infirmary and the base during night when there isn’t as many people

But the fateful day came where it was suggested that you eat in the cafeteria

Yeah you thought taking was hard? This felt nearly impossible

Luckily you were able to come to a compromise and you would wake up early and go eat before most people got up

So there you were standing in front of a display of food with almost no one else around

You felt like a fish out of water and at peace at the same time

You just grabbed the first peace of fruit you saw and a small slice of bread before going to sit down

You started to calm down and eat in peace

You were in your own little world so when you felt a hand on your shoulder you practically fell out of your seat you jumped so high

There, your pilot was standing looking surprised

He gestured next to you and you just nodded your head

The two of you quickly recovered and soon enough he was talking your head off, telling you about a crazy dream he had

Your pilot made you feel very comfortable

So you started to eat breakfast with him every day

This quickly became lunch

And dinner

This was how you met his squadron

You became quick friends with most of them

These meals quickly became apart of your daily routine

You looked forward to seeing your pilot and his friends

So when your pilot did not show up for 4 days straight you started to worry

You were able to catch snap in the hallway one day before dinner and ask where he was

He told you that he was on a solo mission but he should be back in a couple of days

So when he didn’t show up nearly two weeks later you started to get worried

Snap told you that he had been lost in action and if they didn’t hear from him in a week he would be declared dead

You felt empty

You wanted to feel something

Anything

But you just felt empty

You quietly thanked snap and just went about your day

You didn't speak for a while after he told you

They held a small ceremony for Poe

But after that everyone just kind of forgot

it felt like there wasn’t nearly as much joy in the base as before

The squad gave up on trying to get you to talk

You stopped coming to meals daily

You would maybe show up for dinner once a week

You just shut down

You started to run

You hated running but it was a good distraction

You would run around the base four times once a day

And one time during your run you heard a speaker in the communication center crackle to life

You slowed down but didn’t stop

So when you heard your pilots voice over the speaker you ran straight into a wall

Everyone stopped what they were doing

He was requesting access to land

His squadron was in the room

They all looked at each other trying to figure out what to do before snap gave the go ahead

He made eye contact with you before the entire squadron started running towards the hanger

You made it there first and watched his x-wing, looking a little worse for wear, land

He crawled out of the hatch as people started rushing around trying to help him or look at the damaged ship

His squadron started hugging him and asking him questions

You started to turn around, you obviously offered no help here you could see him later

Little did you know your pilot was just trying to shake everyone off so he could get to you

You pressed the button to open the door but before you could get through a hand grabbed your shoulder

You turned around and there he was

Blood coating his forehead, his clothes a mess but somehow still smiling

You started to tell him off, saying that he needed to get checked out and make sure that he was okay and then check in with his squadron, after that he needed to clean himself off, change, and he looked like he could use some sleep and you told him as much. You should definitely be at the bottom of his list of important things to accomplish

He cut off your rambling by grabbing your chin and putting his mouth to yours

You squeaked in surprise and froze for a second before melting into his warm embrace

He smelt like gasoline and saltwater

You pulled away and looked at him

He smiled at you and you knew in that moment that you would have hung all the stars and suns in the galaxy if it meant he would smile at you like that again

He started to talk about how there was this great place to eat a few planets away and how the entire time he was away you were all he could think about, and he knew in his mind that when he got back if he didn't even try to talk to you about the feelings he had bottled up that he might just combust.

You just smiled again and nodded

He hugged you again and you just squeezed him right back

You felt the stars align and as you gripped the jacket he was wearing that was so similar to your fathers you felt a feeling you hadn’t felt in so long

Hope.

#poe dameron x reader #star wars x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron headcanon #poe dameron x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader

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hollowisthyname · 3 years

Note

Hello, Icarus! Please infodump to me about Danganronpa?

okay so! I had written out a whole thing but then tumblr deleted it! so that was fun! /s but now that I know what I'm going to write it's much easier, so that's good 😌

n e ways, I'm gonna do like a basic timeline w explanations and some other stuff that hopefully I'll remember once I start writing!! so let's go :D

a list of everything danganronpa in chronological order (not the order that you should play/watch the stuff in, I'll put that in the explanations)

Danganronpa 3: The End of Hope's Peak High School - Despair Arc (DR3) - second anime, watch along with the Future and Hope arcs after playing the first two games (and UDG if you want to). backstory for the cast of the second game.

Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc (THH) - first main game, play first. also has an anime that's basically the same as the game, but since there's not enough time to put everything from the game into the anime I definitely recommend playing the game. high school students from a prestigious school trapped in said school are forced to play a killing game, hijinks ensue.

Danganronpa Another Episode: Ultra Despair Girls (UDG) - third game, not main. play after playing the first two games. very different game mechanics from the main three, and widely considered not cannon by the fandom. I like it though, and it introduces a lot of really interesting characters along with giving a v underdeveloped character from the first game a lot more character development. it's not necessary to play it (though one of the characters plays a pretty big part in the third anime, so that would make more sense if you already knew her), but I think it's interesting and fun. there are also robot fights.

Danganronpa 2: Goodbye Despair (DR2 or SDR2) - second main game, play after playing the first game. same basic premise as the first game, except it's a different class (same school though) and this time they're on an island. even more hijinks and plot twists than the first game.

Super Danganronpa 2.5: Komaeda Nagito to Sekai no Hakaimono - (I could only find the Japanese title for this one, sorry 😔) kinda also part of the second anime? watch after playing the first two games (and UDG if you want) and watching DR3. character is woken up from a coma via overdramatic and overpowered other character.

Danganronpa 3: The End of Hope's Peak High School - Future and Hope Arcs (DR3) - second anime, watch along with the Despair arc after playing the first two games (and UDG if you want to). aftermath of the first two games.

Danganronpa V3: Killing Harmony (DRV3) - third main game, fourth game in total. I don't actually know when it happens bc they're v secretive about everything, so I'm just putting it last. play last. same premise as the first two, the class is trapped in a school with a courtyard and a huge sort of dome around everything. peak hijinks, too many plot twists to count.

woo!! that's the timeline as I know it, hopefully I didn't miss anything. and I have managed to remember what else I was going to say, so let's move on to section two:

the mechanics of the games

danganronpa is, at its core, a glorified visual novel. every character has a certain amount of sprites for when they talk, as well as voice lines that aren't usually the exact text on the screen but fit the vibe of whatever they're saying. and as I've said before, there's quite a lot of talking. these games have more plot than should really be possible and most or all of it is done through dialogue. cutscenes and class trials are the only parts that are reliably fully voice acted, but there are a lot of those.

as for the parts that are less visual novel-y: you can walk around, and the settings are pretty much as 3d as the 2d-ish style of the game allows. you can also click on things, and sometimes clicking on stuff will get you monocoins, the currency of the game, which means you'll be able to buy presents for the characters!!

"now why do I need presents for the characters?" you ask. well, that's because you're given a certain amount of free time each game to hang out with characters you want to get to know better! the game's ending is fixed, so you won't change the course of the game by who you do or don't hang out with, but you can learn more about characters and become closer to them! giving them presents they like makes them like you more :D

and the most exciting part of danganronpa, what a lot of people play the games for, the true lure of the game.... the class trials!!

so these characters are in a killing game, right? basically, they're faced with a sort of lose-lose predicament: stay trapped in the school forever, or kill one of your classmates to "graduate". but it's not as simple as that, because in order to graduate, you can't be caught. and how do you determine whether or not a criminal has been found out? well, a trial of course!

enter the class trials. every student (barring dead or severely wounded ones) is required to participate in a kind of mock trial- except someone's really dead, and they need to find the murderer or they'll all die too.

(right, did I forget to mention that? only one person can graduate. getting out alive insures that none of your classmates get the luxury of doing the same.)

so, yeah. the class trials are a true fight for life on both sides, because who ever loses will be executed.

and they're really, really fun.

entirely voice acted! enough minigames that the list of them is probably longer than this entire post! the joy of solving the mystery! the... execution, right in front of everyone.

hey, it's a dark game. not like they're trying to hide that. and the executions aren't actually all that gory most of the time, but they're still very much there and onscreen. also as close to fully animated as the games ever get, which is pretty cool.

so how the class trials work is this:

there's a murder. dun dun duuuun. you investigate everywhere related to the murder to get "truth bullets", which are the reason you don't immediately fail at the trials. you don't have to remember all of them, they're all written down in your e-handbook. plus, the protagonists all seem to have really good memories.

time for the actual class trial!! Monokuma (asshole bear running the killing game) introduces everything, explains the rules. and everyone starts talking.

there are a lot of different parts to the class trial, but most of it is "nonstop debates". everyone talks one after the other, and you have to find inconsistencies and shoot the right "weak spot" with the right truth bullet. you refute the lie or mistake and everyone goes back to arguing normally.

there's also hangman's gambit (weird hangman to find a key word), multiple choice things (self-explanatory), and plenty of others.

near the end of the trial (or sometimes only a little over halfway in, it varies), the killer will.... kind of become obvious. there's a specific kind of change in behavior that's the mark of the murderer in these games, but I'm not sure how to describe it exactly. a lot of times there's an accent change, and in general they start acting much more erratic. since it's a trial, though, even after this presents itself you still have to prove your case beyond reasonable doubt.

and once it's become clear to the killer that they're backed into a corner, you have to do the "bullet time battle". it goes by different names in different games, but the basic mechanics are the same: you battle against a student (usually the killer, but not always) in a rhythm-based battle where you have to click to the rhythm to refute your opponent's statements. once you've dealt enough damage, you shoot the final piece of evidence, and that's the end of it.

the murderers react differently different times. sometimes they break down and confess. sometimes they keep denying it. sometimes, they're just calm. however they act, though, the end is the same. they are caught and punished accordingly.

but before that, there's one more thing to do. the closing argument.

your final task is to explain how the murder was committed, from idea to execution (look, a pun! see I can be funny too 😌). and you have to do it... as a manga.

you don't have to draw the whole thing yourself ofc- you just have to fill in the missing panels and then watch as the protagonist narrates it to the rest of the class.

and that's all for the class trial, not counting the long talks after every execution while still in the courtroom.

wow, this is getting...... really, really long. there's only one more thing I'm gonna add, and I promise it will be much shorter than the other two bc it is late and I am officially Incredibly Fucking Tired.

with no further ado, a very short part three:

my general impression of the game. its vibes or smth, I dunno this is just what i think about it

when I first heard of danganronpa, I thought it was a horror game. I can now assure you that it is not. thriller? maybe. debatable. but definitely not horror.

and despite its extremely dark premise, this game is not all doom and gloom. there's so much stuff about hope, and overcoming despair even when it seems impossible... it's not exactly a happy game, but there's a lot more of that in there than you'd probably expect.

all in all, I love this game. so much. it means a lot to me, and I think it's a really good game. thanks for letting me talk about it so much asdhfd :D

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seijch · 3 years

Text

ANNOUNCEMENT: NOT A HELLO, BUT NOT A GOODBYE EITHER

omg hi ... im like . ashamed to come back after saying brief hiatus in october and then disappearing off the face of the earth til FEBRUARY but under the cut i will be explaining myself and the following, if youre interested (and a tl;dr at the very bottom if you don’t wanna scroll thru this obnoxiously long post):

the reason(s) i was gone for so long

what i was doing during that time (its just a personal account yall can scroll past this idrc)

the status of those um . halloween requests

the future of this account

i. so . Hiatus .

i know. i know . i probably mentioned it when i made the announcement post, but my mental health likes to go on one of those rides. yknow the ones where you go like up rlly fast then down maybe and then up then DOWN .... its like that. i needed a break and every time i wanted to come back or thought about it, something would happen and i would get stuck in my own head.

a big reason for getting stuck in my head was (and i hate to admit this ... i hate to admit that i have Insecurities On The Internet) my feelings of inadequacy regarding my writing. i love to plot fics, i love concepts and characters and making little headcanons but i dont ... know if i love writing rn. and i thought for the longest time that like . whatever ill just push thru it its fine ill be fine but it kinda wasnt lmao you can kinda see it in my halloween reqs and what become of them when i get to that but i began to feel like nothing i had put out or would put out would hold up prose wise (and normally i dont feel like this im much more “idc its my life im living it” but thats not a rant for tumblr LMAO). i still feel like that -- like im better as a reader than a writer. but . You Know :-)

tl;dr: mental state go brrrrr

ii. anywhere here’s wonderwall

when i left, i was in a steadily decreasing mental and emotional state, made worse by a situation at work that really was a case of petty jealousy on my end and rlly isnt very consequential now despite how much pain and resentment it gave me when it Was a problem so i wont get into it. the tl;dr of november and december was me using work as an crutch and distraction -- i know my job, i do it well, it helped me not think about my responsibilities and obligations and inadequacies. of course, as the holiday season grew busier n busier i was scheduled so often that i moved 88 or so miles (according to my apple watch, which i ONLY wear at work since im never anywhere else outside my house) and fell into a cycle of showering n sleeping at my house before going back the next day. (theres definitely something to be said abt capitalism and “grind culture” here but once again its not the time or place snsjkdfds)

at the turn of the new year, i happened to remember a birthday card i hadnt filed away for safekeeping from a friend of mine that id been horribly out of touch with til that point. i started crying because i realized how out of touch id been in general up until that point. the month of january was great for me: i was focused, happy, and in a much better place than i had been before. the end of it brought me down focus wise and im hoping that enough time away from my distractions will refocus me bc i ... need it LMAO and though ive burned out from that level of productivity and gotten distracted again im ... trying to stay positive which i think is the most i can do 😁👍🏼

media wise, i got real into stardew valley (but burned out bc i played it extensively as a way to wind down after work), the pokemon platinum romhack renegade platinum (still havent finished it bc of school n i played it w the intent to see if i could nuzlocke it ... bitch its so hard but its so fun bc of it), briefly assassins creed: odyssey (im one of those ppl who completes an entire region before i move to the next so you can tell i burned out of that one + wouldnt have the time to properly devote to it even if i didnt), got back into genshin impact after pulling for xiao (after not touching it for like . months), and danganronpa. yes . danganronpa 😐 i Know. i stopped playing it after the second trial of the first game bc i was so hurt by the outcome and picked it up in late january only to get sucked in (thank god i had the foresight to buy the second and third games during the steam winter sale). rn im at the start of chapter 4 if anyone wants to come in my asks and um . talk to me abt danganronpa

tl;dr: I’m Into Danganronpa Now

iii. you realize halloween was three months ago right

i mentioned this in the first section, but i love to plot things. every request is plotted or at least has a solid foundation. i had fun detailing what concept i wanted to go with considering what i was given, and there were some bangers i might touch up in the future. but heres whats going to happen to the requests themselves:

there are two finished requests. one will be posted tomorrow and the other will be touched up (just bc i finished it doesnt mean its good 🧍‍♂️) and scheduled for next saturday. as for the ones i never got around to ...

i will not be finishing those requests. i hate to be That Person, but i feel like we all expected this 🧍‍♂️ what i will do is post all of my notes for each request in batches -- requests that have an @ to go with them will be mentioned in the post proper, but anon asks will be pictured. (there are some asks that came from blogs who are now deactivated but i wrote down all the prompts and remember most of those askers so ill cross that bridge when i get there) there will most likely be an excerpt or two simply bc i think i mightve written a few plot points or interactions in the form of bullet points. i rlly am sorry about doing this but i remember looking at my notion doc with all the prompts and feeling ... like i wasnt measuring up n it wasnt just to myself or to some intangible concept of “other” id constructed but it was instead to those who requested n actually WANTED to see and hear and read my writing and i ...... im gonna admit thats another big reason i avoided this site.

regardless, youll definitely get what i have (and likely more than just my bullet points and illegible handwriting).

tl;dr: im sorry. what i have in terms of plot, concept, and interaction for every request will be posted, but i cant say ill ever complete them and mean it.

iv. so what now?

well i mean . im not entirely sure how sold i am on haikyuu in the content creation department (as a creator n to a lesser extent, as a consumer). as mentioned previously, its no longer my primary focus. it doesnt mean im not into haikyuu anymore; i have a lot of love for those boys but i cant rlly say im even caught up w recent fandom activity and also havent even finished s4 pt2 LMAO thats on my to do list

and despite all that, i still want to share my plots n concepts and snippets and maybe even fics. it wont happen anytime soon. it might not even happen. but i mean . its better than me saying i wont write ever again shjdkfs but either way ill probably use this blog as a personal blog w the occasional ask game for dialogue prompts (those are always so fun i love making up aus to fit like . the most mundane prompts)

as for my works (past and any potential future), ive opened an ao3 acc here n ill be editing n possibly expanding on my old works to post there. tumblr, to me, is The x reader hub, but i figure more x reader fics on ao3 is never a bad thing.

ill be deleting/posting drafted posts to the queue since they were all meant to be queued anyway as well as (sorry again 🧍‍♂️) deleting or answering asks in the inbox. (moots if you get a notif from me saying i rbed your post from months ago ... mind your business) im very hard to get ahold of and its ... a problem. expect an overhaul of the nav n shit to reflect my new direction n also because i feel like i cant tell if my passion for carrd is shared by the majority HSDKLFS maybe its better to read my info in a normal post ykwim .......

and of course . if youve read all this n decided im no longer worth the follow, i sure as hell cant stop you. thank you for wanting to, at some point, hear what i have to say -- it means more than you think.

tl;dr: writing will be edited and reposted to ao3, this blog will be a personal blog with a hint of writing (sometimes)

the tl;dr to end all tl;drs:

im back! i wont be as active as i used to due to a lessened interest in haikyuu in general, but i have an ao3 acc now where all my past work will be edited, possibly expanded, and reposted. any future work will also find itself there. my halloween requests will be posted in batches as incomplete concepts, plots, and snippets of scenes; i wont be promising to finish any of them.

there are still fic concepts im attached to and want to finish, but i cant promise any more writing on my end. this blog will be a personal blog with maybe writing, not a writing blog with my personal thoughts all over it.

regardless if you stick around or not, its been crazy sexy cool (equal emphasis) being on haikyuu tumblr even tho i wasnt around for long ... even tho its not my main focus anymore, im still excited to see what the future might hold 🤝

love, ari 💌

#did i have an announcement tag #announcement #also regarding work hsjkdfsd the company i work for didnt give my location the opening for the full time position i wanted #my managers all agree id be promoted if we had it but we dont so i . hee .#anyway um i hope everyones doing well #some of my moots changed urls while i was away and now i have no idea who anyone is #its like when you see your familys friends and theyre like omg youre so big now! i remember when you were a baby and youre like 🧍‍♂️#and you have to play along bc apparently they remember you hskdfsd #im not very funny in this post but i figured id rather be honest considering my lengthy absence #consider this my comeback stage

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quefish77 · 3 years

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Fic Writer's Game

I do love a good tagging game :P Let’s see how this goes!

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

174 … but about 30 are drabbles, and 10 or so are links to YouTube videos … Wow, that’s a lot though.

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

431, 858. That feels … gosh it feels like a lot, but then I think about my fics and I’m like, “That’s it?” LOL … I guess things feel bigger than they are sometimes :D

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Two. Good omens, and one HP. The HP was written about 15y ago, and then I started in on GO 2y ago. And one GO/RHPS crossover lol

4) What are your top five fics by kudos?

1. Effortless Intimacy – The first fic I wrote for GO. An Ace romantic fic post Apocalypse failure.

2. An Angel, A Demon, A Sybian – PWP and exactly what it says on the tin LOL

3. When the Demon Bought a Sybian – PWP prequel to #2 hahaha

4. First One is Free – What ended up being the first fic in my Professional Dom Aziraphale series. Crowley trying to masturbate, and Aziraphale lends his voice to help him out before making a quip about he usual service fee.

5. Ineffable Kinktober 2019: Day 6: Tail – Some D/s playtime, gentle Dom Aziraphale asks for Crowley to manifest a tail for playtime. PWP.

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes. Whether it is a keyboard smash, an emoji, or long comment, I always reply. Although, there has been a time or two where someone was bingeing and leaving comments on each chapter, which were lovely ‘thank you’s’, and I did wait and respond to the last one referencing all of their comments.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Human Incarnate. After the trials, Heaven strips Aziraphale of his divinity, and he becomes mortal. He and Crowley try to live their best life until the inevitable happens. Which does, of course. I can’t even think about the last chapter without crying.

7) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I’ve only really written one crossover. The Rocky Omens Picture Show. Crowley and Aziraphale end up at Dr Frank-n-Furter’s castle and are brought in from the rain for a very brief visit.

8) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No hate, but AngelFoodBaking.com readers were quite polarized on the ending and I don’t think people agreed with me, but being a crackfic, there wasn’t really ‘anger’.

9) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yes. I’ve written Ace sensual “smut” (Effortless Intimacy had lots of skin touching and kissing, nothing more, and I also did a 'genitalia-free masturbation' scene in 12. In Water), and I have written PWP unapologetic pornsmut (A New Building Isn't the Only Erection in the Area).

10) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes, recently actually. About 3 weeks after I published a fic, I got a ping that I may want to have a look at a new fic WIP that had just dropped. By the time I finished reading the chapter, I already had multiple people reaching out to me, warning me, asking me if I knew about this … stuff like that. My beta confronted the other writer whose response was “I didn’t think it was too similar”, and then they deleted it. I checked my kudos, the other writer had dropped kudos on my fic 4 days earlier. *Their* beta had the response that they didn’t know how I could think that, and many people defended me that it was “Change enough so the teacher doesn’t know you cheated”, but definitely my fic, with one actual change. (Aziraphale was being abused in the other fic, in mine he was woefully underinformed but in a cute/cracky kind of way, not sinister). I had over 20 other writers who read both agreeing with me, I sent blind copies of both chapters to a teacher, a few friends, a copy/proofer friend of a friend … I knew I had been stolen from, but if there was any doubt from anywhere, I would have felt terrible. Every person who read them had differing opinions on content, if they liked it, ‘this felt better’, etc. Some of my friends preferred the other one. But every person came back with, “Whoever wrote first was stolen from.” … This wrecked me for a week. Being stolen from, having someone insist I had falsely accused someone of stealing, waiting for all the results to come back from blind readers. The other writer ended up ‘reworking’ and reposting, and I haven’t even clicked on it.

The beta also had the unmitigated gall to say this to a chatroom full of writers: "The first chapter has certain resemblances, which is not surprising given they were writing to the same prompt." .… meaning that they were completely discarding the ‘two cakes’ theory in favor of the ‘there is no such thing as originality’ theory. Which … to a room of writers, is a BOLD statement to make. So, I tested that theory. If I, one person with only one brain, could come up with multiple completely different takes on a single prompt. I am up to three active WIPs posted. If I can not copy myself, I sure as fuck expect a completely separate person to be able to not copy me. The Series can be found here: The Doctor Will See You Now.

11) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know of 😊

12) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Sort of? It was more that @caedmonfaith and I were ripping back and forth in Discord and then she put it in actual words like a real writer and asked if she could post it (which, of course?!) The Grammar Lesson

13) What’s your all time favourite ship?

Definitely Aziraphale and Crowley.

14) What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

The Courtship of Crowley. It had so much potential, and I feel terrible every time I see it in my docs ☹

15) What are your writing strengths?

I think I have very good character voices. Even if the surrounding bits aren’t as good as I think they are, I think the spoken parts are good 😊

16) What are your writing weaknesses?

I have a problem with letting an action stand on its own in a sentence without adding more. “He pulled on his trousers and checked his phone.” “He made breakfast and then sat down.” I think that I need to break up my sentences more, I abuse ‘and’ and ‘then’ a lot.

17) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I have put in other languages a couple times, and I am always paranoid that someone who speaks that language is going to call me out for obviously using Google translate because it syntax’d terrible lol

18) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

HP – Snermione.

19) What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

Droit du Seigneur (medieval transgender Aziraphale) was probably the most … meaningful? It hit a lot of personal points of gender identity, sexuality, etc. Much in the same way that Effortless Intimacy did. The funniest thing I ever wrote was probably It’s Technically Just Sweat. Crowley’s tattoo and Aziraphale’s ring have a tryst. But, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the best thing I have ever written, and will never top, is The Perfectly Unproblematic Good Omens Fanfic.

So, tagging @tawnyontumblr and @caedmonfaith, @redundant-angel, and whoever else is interested!

#tagging game #fanfic #fanfic writers

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today-only-happens-once · 4 years

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Protector

Title: Protector

Word Count: 1636

Summary: After Virgil tells Patton of his secret identity, Patton wants Virgil to teach him how to fight. Virgil just can’t figure out why. Romantic moxiety, superhero!AU.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, lil bits of angst, mentions of death, flirting, violence/fighting (but in like, a training kind of way), arguing, vague mentions of kidnapping and torture as hypothetical situations, lil bit of crying, maybe a touch dramatic and sappy but listen they love each other so freaking much okay.

A/N: This is just meant to be a short little moxiety superhero au diddy inspired by a dialogue prompt I saw on tumblr. Not any kind of poignant or super meaningful writing. Just a little fun thing. Take it what you will. ^u^ Edited by yours truly. All mistakes are mine. Gonna quickly tag @creativenostalgiastuff since I hinted I was writing a superhero!Virge thing so it only seems right to tag her.

Written in part for @randomslasher. A little splash of moxiety for ya. <3

...

“I want you to teach me how to fight.”

Virgil glances at Patton over the top of his coffee cup. Mid-morning sunlight filters through the window in the living room of their small New York apartment. Virgil is sitting on one end of the couch, his sock-clad feet tucked up under him as he nurses a cup of too-hot coffee. His boyfriend is standing in the doorway between the hallway and the living room, still in his rumpled blue sweatpants and gray cat hoodie.

Virgil hadn’t been sure how Patton was going to be this morning, given the conversation they’d had last night. Part of him expected Patton to have packed up in the night and been gone when Virgil woke up. Or maybe he’d be angry, or maybe he’d cry. Virgil figured if he was really lucky, Patton would go about their life together as normal. He’d had expected any wide number of things—he blamed the anxiety—but he certainly hadn’t been expecting that.

“I—what?” Virgil sets his coffee cup down on the end table beside him.

Patton glances down at his feet and then back up at Virgil. There’s something surprisingly steeled behind his usually warm eyes. “I want you to teach me how to fight. Today. Are you busy?”

“I… no, but…” Virgil blinks, shaking his head.

“If you don’t want to,” Patton says in a sudden rush, “that’s okay. I just… I figured, who better to teach me how to fight than my superhero boyfriend?”

Surprised laughter bubbles up Virgil’s chest. Virgil had finally told Patton about the whole ‘superhero’ thing last night. After an uncomfortably close brush with death earlier that evening—no thanks to Gloomstalker’s mechtech—Virgil ended up coming clean to his boyfriend about… well. Everything. The lightning storm. The experiments. That he was really Violet Lightning, New York’s most detested ‘superhero’.

Patton had nodded, squeezed Virgil’s hand, kissed his forehead, and said that it didn’t change anything. They both went to bed shortly after that. Virgil hadn’t been convinced that the information had fully sunken in for Patton—part of him had still been waiting for his real reaction.

“Why the sudden interest in learning how to fight?”

Patton offers him a small smile. “I gotta keep up with you somehow, Virge.”

Virgil arcs an eyebrow, even as he can feel his cheeks warm slightly. “Okay,” he agrees. “Sure.”

…

Virgil and Patton end up going to their regular gym around the corner from their apartment. Virgil heads straight to the boxing ring tucked away in the corner of the small gym, and pulls his plaid-patched sweatshirt off. Patton sheds his sweatshirt as well, then turns to face his boyfriend.

He seems… nervous. Virgil doesn’t know why, but he offers a faint smile in the hopes that it eases some of Patton’s tension.

“Okay,” he says lightly. “Let’s start with your stance. You want a low center of gravity, because that makes you harder to knock over.” Virgil demonstrates foot placement and sinking your weight a bit. Patton takes a breath, then mirrors him.

“Good,” Virgil encourages with a nod. “You want to do your best to make sure that your weight stays on the balls of your feet. It’s easier to move more quickly that way.”

The morning goes by lazily—full of careful directions and trial-and-errors—but it relaxes something in Virgil. There’s an ease of tension in his shoulders that usually accompanied him being at the gym, and magnified by the fact that he was here with his boyfriend. And besides, Patton was… sweet. He’d always had a habit of sticking the end of his tongue out past his lips when he was focused on something, and apparently that carried on to things like posture and foot placement when preparing for a fight.

Virgil lingers probably a bit too long on helping Patton make a fist, but if it’s an excuse to hold Patton’s warm hands a bit longer, well. Could he really complain much?

Eventually, they maneuver into sparring as the hour presses on. Virgil watches Patton closely, being sure to compliment his boyfriend’s surprisingly quick thinking when he tries to sweep Virgil’s legs. In fact, he’s pretty sure Patton would have been successful if Virgil didn’t have a heightened balance and reaction time.

Virgil doesn’t throw a punch, but he keeps his hands up by his face like he’d taught Patton. They hadn’t gotten to blocking and dodging blows yet, and Virgil knew sometimes his own strength surprised him. The last thing he wanted to do—the last thing he ever wanted to do—was hurt Patton. So he keeps his hands close and focuses on giving Patton some feedback as his boyfriend takes a slightly too-wide swing towards his jaw that Virgil easily dodges.

He isn’t entirely sure how long they’ve been going at it. His violet tank top clings to his chest with a thin sheen of sweat. Patton is breathing hard and wipes the back of his hand against his forehead. Virgil steps back and holds his hands up.

“Let’s take a break,” he says.

“You haven’t even tried to hit me yet,” Patton tells him, panting.

Virgil blinks, his brow furrowing. He steps away, grabbing his water bottle from the corner of the ring. “I don’t want to hit you.”

Patton sets his hands on his hips, trying to catch his breath. “I want you to.”

Virgil nearly drops his water bottle. “You—what?”

“I want you to hit me.”

“Why the hell do you want that?”

Patton shakes his head and looks away. “If you won’t try to hit me, what’s even the point, Virge?”

Virgil doesn’t know what to say to that. He sets his water bottle down and crosses his arms over his chest. “You tell me, Patton. I thought you wanted to do this as an exercise thing.”

But Patton won’t meet his eyes. Instead, he crosses back to his own belongings on the other side of the ring and gathers them up in his arms. “Never mind. It’s okay. I’ll see you at home—”

Virgil reaches out for him as he tries to brush past him, catching his arm. “Patton.”

Standing this close, Virgil sees Patton swallow hard. “It’s fine, Virgil.” The lie is so painfully obvious, Virgil’s chest twinges.

“Hey,” Virgil says, his voice softening because something is wrong and Virgil—for the life of him—can’t figure out what. “Did I do something?”

Patton shakes his head quickly. “No,” he says, in a tight voice as if his throat is closing on him.

Virgil drops his grip to enclose around Patton’s hand. “Are you sure?”

Patton nods.

Virgil sighs. “This wasn’t just boyfriend bonding, was it?”

He shakes his head.

“Patton,” Virgil says, and this time is voice is just barely a whisper. “Why did you want me to try to hit you?”

“Because,” Patton says, suddenly. He pulls his hand from Virgil and takes several steps back and Virgil suddenly aches with the sudden absence of him so close. “Because how am I supposed…. I…” Patton gestures at Virgil, a glossy sheen to his eyes. “You’re my boyfriend, Virgil.”

Virgil feels suddenly like the wind has been knocked out of him. “Patton, I’d…. I’d never…. Want to hurt you. Never.”

Virgil’s mind is reeling but in the back of his head is a certain clarity. Of course Patton would be freaked out to know Virgil has superpowers. And if Patton doesn’t feel safe with him, of course he would want to know how best to defend himself against someone that has naturally enhanced ability. It makes sense that Patton would want to—

“I know that. You love me, Virge, and I’ve never once doubted that.”

Virgil feels the sudden knot in his stomach unravel a little. “Oh,” he says quietly. “But then why—”

“My boyfriend is Violet Lightning,” Patton says, very quietly. Conscious that they are in public. “And… and at some point, someone will find out. And… and if I get taken to get information on you or something, I need to know how to hold off—”

“If you get taken because of me,” Virgil cuts in, his voice strained, “and they threaten to hurt you, you tell them everything. It’s not… worth that. I’m not worth that, and I would never ask that of you. God, Patton, if you got hurt, and it was because of me, I…”

There’s a beat of silence. “I just want you to be safe.” Patton’s voice sounds small and a little wobbly. “I want you to know that someone out there is trying to protect you while you try to protect everyone else.”

Virgil huffs a breath that’s almost a laugh. “Yeah, well. I’ve known you’re that person for a long, long time. You don’t have to take a punch to help me feel safe, Patton.”

Patton laughs wetly. He sniffs, rubbing the back of his hands across his eyes. “Yeah?”

Virgil somehow, impossibly, softens even further. “Yeah.” He crosses the few strides it takes to close the distance between them, brushing the pads of his thumbs against Patton’s cheeks to catch the tears that manage to leak there. He rests his palms against Patton’s jaw, content to just cup his face for a moment.

Virgil kisses the top of Patton’s head and pulls him into a hug. He feels Patton relax into him a bit, his arms instinctively tightening around him.

“When you told me last night,” Patton murmurs against Virgil’s shoulder, “I told you something. Do you remember what that was?”

“You said that it didn’t change anything.”

Patton nods and pulls back. “Yeah. So… how about we swing by that bakery on our way home and watch some cartoons?”

Virgil smiles a little. “Sounds perfect.”

...

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #romantic moxiety #superhero!au #not meant to be Big Serious Writing #just a short little diddy #to maybe help lift some spirits #idk

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millennial-ring · 3 years

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Can we get more info on 5-7?

5. Dear God

So this one is ANCIENT (2012!!!) and idk why it’s still in my WIPs folder because I do clean it out/reorganize it every few years or so (which is why that unfinished powershipping christmas fic wasn’t on the list, cause I moved it to a different folder). Sadly the title makes it seem more interesting than it actually is - it’s just a few paragraphs and nothing really happens at all.

Russet eyes were glazed over as they watched the rain pelt the ground, each drop making tiny indents in the dirt, puffs of the still-dry earth floating up with each splash before settling down again, the process repeating over...and over... Rain drummed against the body of a beaten up jeep, the only prominent sound within miles, save to the sound of the rain falling in the grass, and the dirt, and the leather jacket Bakura wore.

The man blinked as water ran down his face, following the curve of his brow and rolling over the crease of his eyelid, flowing into his eye. The water pooled between his lids, blurring his vision for a few moments until he blinked again, and the water was squeezed out to mingle with the rest on his face, like a single, solitary tear. He inhaled slowly, then let the breath out in a quick huff, turning away from the long stretch of dirt road in front of him. Behind him, another long chunk of drivable desert. He growled under his breath and began to pace, wet sand squishing under his boots, gravel shifting with each step.

How could be trapped here, in the middle of fucking nowhere, with a flat fucking tire and no spare?

It was inspired by this Avenged Sevenfold song and I vaguely remember that it was going to be thiefshipping, about the various trials Bakura goes through to get back to Malik after a fight or something but... 🤷

6. Domestic Disturbance

This one is also super short, more fleshed out in my mind than on paper, and I started writing it after we had to call the cops on our neighbors because they were having a very loud and long argument (like, over an hour of yelling). Inspiration comes from the dumbest places with me, haha, but this is another one of those “why is this still in my wips” documents because I don’t have any intention of finishing it. After writing what I did I kinda had a “maybe these kinds of situations shouldn’t be your inspiration for fanfics, weirdo” moment and I scrapped it. But anyway!

The story goes that Bakura was playing some Wii game, lost grip on the controller, and accidentally chucked it and broke a vase because he wasn’t wearing the wrist strap. Malik hears the crash and comes around the corner, lecturing him about “how many times have i told you i s2g bakura why are you like this” even as Bakura’s already beginning to clean up the mess. Bakura gruffly tells him to chill out because nothing important was broken anyway, just “that ugly ass vase” and he holds up a piece for Malik to see. The tension thickens immediately and Malik speaks with measured anger instead of the usual screaming, so Bakura knows He Fucked Up. “That was a gift from my sister.” Bakura panics a bit on the inside, but outside he scoffs and he’s all like “even better, tell her she has awful tastes” because ykno. He’s like that. Doesn’t wanna admit he fucked up, doesn’t wanna take responsibility or acknowledge he hurt Malik’s feelings. At this point I’d stopped writing it, but still have the basic outline. The regular bickering becomes a super intense all out screaming match about basically anything and everything, all the tiny little things they’d been burying for as long as they’d lived together finally coming out, start demanding why they ever thought this would work and they’re just about to get to that great crescendo where they're about to break up (”Well then maybe you shouldn’t have brought me back!” “At this point I’m inclined to agree!” Bakura’s shocked. “Well...then is this going where I think it’s going?” “I think it is.” “Then say it.” “...” “Say you want to break up!” “I...Bakura, I...” when someone knocks on the door. Heyo, it’s two cops, saying someone called in a domestic disturbance. Malik snaps that they’re fine, still pissed from the fight, but obviously like no Malik that’s not gonna help. So one officer brings Bakura out into the hall to question him and the other stays with Malik. Cop asks if they’re together, how long, what the fight was about, etc etc, and then if the fight had been physical at all. Bakura recoils in shock and practically screams “No!” “You never hit Malik?” “I would never!” “And Malik wouldn’t hit you?” There’s a few things there, bc I wasn’t sure how I wanted Bakura to respond; make an “only if he asked wink wonk” joke that the cop rolls his eyes at, or stammer that “i mean he’s smacked my head once or twice but it never hurt and i was being super annoying at the time and it was more like playful slapping” but either way the cop asks for a more direct answer or for Bakura to elaborate and Bakura gets pissed, says Malik would cut off his own hand before he hit Bakura because obviously. Cop seems taken aback but nods, and then lectures Bakura a bit about volume, tells him maybe one of them should pack a bag and stay with friends or family for a few days. Their partner comes out soon after and the two cops leave. Bakura goes back inside, where Malik is standing with his arms crossed, looking shaken with red rimmed eyes. They look at each other, feeling awkward, but then they make tea, sit down, and have a calmer “are we really like that?” conversation. they admit a lot of their fights are pointless and stupid and they’re just fighting to fight because it’s Their Thing and aha, aren’t we so cute and quirky, arguing is our foreplay - which it is, but they admit they’ve taken it too far, gotten too used to snapping at each other when something happens, and some of their issues (like Bakura disrespecting Malik’s siblings, and Malik’s control freak attitude) really need to be sat down and talked out, not screamed out. They apologize, foreheads pressed together, and Malik thumbs a tear from Bakura’s cheek. Bakura strokes his fingers through Malik’s hair. Malik makes a “well you know the best part about fighting, right?” and Bakura laughs, and then it ends.

7. But he came back

So if y’all didn’t know I recently commissioned a(n amazing) fic from @/sitabethel (not properly tagging cause i don’t wanna bother them). In it, Bakura promises Malik he’ll come back after his final showdown with Atem, but ten years pass and Malik gets engaged to Seto. It’s corporate theifshipping and obviously I recommend reading it - but it’s based on an RP I did with a friend of mine years ago. In the RP, Bakura was pissed Malik hadn’t waited for him and does the whole “why did I even bother coming back I literally only came back to be with you?????” and Malik being like “Sorry? But you took a long fucking time and I had to do something to stop the loneliness.” We never finished it, but when we dropped it Bakura was starting to heal and move on and we had plans to end it powershipping and tendershipping - and Bakura catching the bouquet at the wedding and Ryou immediately being like >:) but anyway. The concept stuck with me and I really liked the idea of Bakura coming back to that situation and more so rolling with it - maybe a touch bitter at first, but hey, he’s nothing if not adaptable, and he absolutely invites himself into the relationship in the clunkiest way possible.

“But he came back” was the start of my own attempt to write something with that kind of plot. When I write a fic, I start with a vague collection of ideas or scenes I want to write, and then when I have enough to work with, I begin organizing them into an outline. This doc is just a very small collection of ideas and dialogue, mixing some things taken from the RP and my own ideas. It’s mostly things like how Malik and Kaiba get to the marriage point, starting with an impromptu kinda tipsy make out session hidden away in the kitchen during a party Yugi’s throwing, and how they navigate each other’s trauma and fumble their way into a genuine romance despite everything. I’ve never managed to sit down and work it out into an outline of any kind, and the way I wanted to explore Malik and Bakura’s relationship before the show down, Malik and Kaiba’s relationship building afterwards, and then the relationship building with all three of them meant 30 chapters, at least (the original rp is over 2,500 pages and again, we had only just started with Bakura wanting to ask Ryou out and going to Malik for advice adjklj, when we dropped it) and well. yall know i’m bad at writing multi fic chapters

#wip tag

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rivalsforlife · 4 years

Note

"Eventually Miles said, “Do you want to know when it happened, when I realized it, or when I came to terms with it?” / “You have three answers?” / “Technically four. Don’t be a hypocrite, you rejected me even though you were in love with me —”" and the rest of the scene if you want to haha, not a lot fits in the ask box :P

Alright!! I’ll do... most of the scene haha, there is one part of the scene I really want to point out, so I’ll once again put this under a keep reading so I don’t take up all this space on people’s dashboards...

Okay!

So basically this part of the scene existed because... I kind of wanted to touch on Miles’ perspective throughout this entire fic as well as a handful of headcanons for Miles and also so that I could fit in a bunch of narumitsu fluff in there somewhere, since my notes for this chapter were pretty much to just shove as much fluff as possible to make up for the rest of it.

In some ways I’m kind of regretting talking about Miles’ perspective because that reduces some of my flexibility for possibly rewriting this fic entirely from Miles’ perspective OR the handful of jumbled scenes that could potentially form a sequel someday... but honestly writing has been like pulling teeth lately so who knows if that will happen at all. Either way I’m sure I’ll be able to get it to work somehow. (Also kind of... directly pointing out what Miles was feeling when it probably would’ve been a better decision to leave it implicit but WHATEVER TOO LATE NOW --)

“When did you fall in love with me?”

Miles didn’t say anything, and Phoenix might have thought he fell asleep again if it weren’t for his breathing. It didn’t line up with what Phoenix had learned from experience, when Miles fell asleep.

Eventually Miles said, “Do you want to know when it happened, when I realized it, or when I came to terms with it?”

“You have three answers?”

when you’re Miles Edgeworth emotions are waaaaay more complicated than they need to be huh. Since this scene was just Dumping Ground For My Headcanons they for the most part tend to line up with what I think most of the time, buuut I might go into more detail a little later.

“Technically four. Don’t be a hypocrite, you rejected me even though you were in love with me —”

Phoenix shushed him by clapping a hand over his mouth, except he missed in the dark and slapped Miles’ nose instead. “Whoops! Sorry. Okay. Give me all four.”

aww see they can laugh about it now like Miles didn’t cry for several hours after the rejection :’)

“I should have guessed,” Miles sighed. He used the hand not currently squished against his side by Phoenix’s entire body to hold Phoenix’s hand, guiding it down from his face and holding it against his chest.

This is me trying to find a way to write affection in a way that isn’t totally awkward... uh so basicallyyyy I am not a very affectionate person and I don’t think Miles is particularly big on physical affection most of the time, so when I write him trying to express affection I typically go for subtler things... like hand-holding and such, because I think even that much would be a pretty big deal for him when it wouldn’t be for some other people.

Pretty much every time in this fic he initiates any form of physical touch (which is pretty often because he is attempting to Court Phoenix (ba dum tshhh)) it’s something that he’s deliberately thought through and deliberately initiated, as opposed to like... Phoenix who does it more unconsciously. (And of course not all of Miles’ initiation of physical affection is strictly romantic, I like to headcanon him making an effort towards platonic physical affection as well towards his friends + found family members... just putting this here to cover my bases so no one thinks every time Miles puts his hand on someone’s shoulder he’s flirting with them haha that’s NOT what I was going for, more that he’s aware that lots of people enjoy physical contact and see that as a way of expressing affection, and he’s trying to get better at expressing affection, and Phoenix happens to be one of those people he is expressing affection to, in both the platonic and romantic sense.)

(That was a very long paragraph for literally one sentence about affection hahahaha...)

“Well, I am fairly sure I had a crush on you in fourth grade.”

“No, you didn’t. I had a crush on you in fourth grade, I changed my whole career for you because of it. You were in love with your law books.”

“I told you I ‘liked’ you and you started talking about girls.”

“O-Okay, sorry I didn’t know about bisexuality when I was nine, give me a break here.”

I waver back and forth on whether Miles had a little baby crush on Phoenix in fourth grade or not, I guess when I wrote this I was feeling that way! Anyways this line is referencing the flashback part of chapter 3:

“Do you like anyone, Miles?”

Miles blinked. “I like you.”

Phoenix’s face reddened. “N-No, I meant like-like. You know, like a girl.”

Miles looked at the ground, and his face was red as well.

this fic would have been over with SO MUCH FASTER if Phoenix actually knew what he meant there --

My interpretation is pretty much always that Phoenix had a little baby crush on Miles in fourth grade, but it wasn’t until he got older that he realized that it was a crush and not just pure idolization -- which was definitely part of it too, and I could probably write thousands of words on how baby Phoenix’s idolization crush on Miles when he was younger shaped some of their interactions throughout the trilogy but I’m not going to get into that now. I thiiink I said in this fic somewhere that Phoenix didn’t realize he was bi until he was in his teens, so baby Phoenix just thought that Miles was His Best Friend Who He Wants To Hang Out With All The Time And Hold Hands With And If Miles Were A Girl Phoenix Would Want To Kiss Him, and at some point adult Phoenix remembers this train of thought and goes “... wait.”

As for Miles, in the universe of this fic he figures out that he’s gay pretty young, probably largely influenced by Larry talking constantly about girls while Miles complains to his father “I don’t know why Larry’s talking about how pretty [girl of the day] is, I think Phoenix has a nicer smile” while Gregory tries to pretend his laughter is him choking on his dinner. And I think Gregory was an excellent father who loved and supported his son, and probably talked about it a bit with him and made sure Miles knew he was always loved and supported no matter what and --

Anyways, there’s that.

The next paragraphs are mostly them talking about the situations where Miles did fall in love with Phoenix (Turnabout Goodbyes) and then realized it (after Farewell, My Turnabout/ when Phoenix fell off the bridge) then kind of... repressed it until post-canon because he didn’t think he was ready yet and they weren’t really in the right place. I don’t have much to say about it because it’s all pretty straightforward stuff...

Then Phoenix deflects Miles asking about when he fell in love, because Phoenix is still struggling a bit with expressing his emotions this way haha. Also because he was in denial for a really long time so he can’t quite pinpoint exact moments aside from “the moment Miles stood up for him during the class trial”, but much like Miles he’s probably had multiple realizations of love throughout his life.

My personal headcanons though is that Phoenix genuinely thought he was just helping out a friend throughout the trilogy... and then sometime during disbarment, possibly during one of those Europe trips, he realizes “oh crap I loved him the whole time”. Obviously in this fic Phoenix doesn’t realize he’s in love with Miles until the cherry blossom petals scene at the end of chapter 4 and then can’t quite articulate that feeling as love rather than more general attraction until the end of chapter 8 after reading Trucy’s note. (Where the last psyche-lock breaks!)

What I DO want to talk about though is this line at the end of the scene:

“It doesn’t matter when I realized it,” Phoenix whispered. “What matters most is that we’re here, together, now.”

No one’s pointed it out so idk if it was too subtle or too obvious that it didn’t need pointing out, but it’s a callback to this line in chapter 4:

Edgeworth stared at him with an unreadable expression, almost curious. “Well, you don’t have to say anything,” he said. “What matters most is that I can be here with you now.”

It’s a very slight difference in the last part of the dialogue, but an important one!!

I had an interesting conversation with my best friend a while ago... long story short her brother was in a relationship for a long time with this one woman then they broke up and now he’s engaged to a different woman, and they dated for a shorter time than the first. And my friend says that she and her family knew that this was a different relationship and that she was “the one” because the way they talked about doing things was different -- more of a “we’re going to do [x]” rather than “she and I are going to do [x]”. This probably isn’t really a real thing so like... don’t use it to judge relationships around you... but I thought it was pretty neat.

So in the conversation in chapter 4, Miles says “What matters most is that I can be here with you now”, which is still like exceptionally romantic, but it still sees the two of them as separate entities -- whereas Phoenix in chapter 9 saying “What matters most is that we’re here, together, now” sort of phrases the two of them as more of a unit. ... not that they’re not still separate entities with their own lives outside of just each other of course but you know. you know. just having some fun with sentences!

Anyways that’s what I really wanted to talk about... I hope you enjoyed!!

#dvd commentary meme #the catch-up game #asks

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renaroo · 4 years

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Super Brothers (1/12)

Disclaimer: Superman and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics. Warnings: Child Abuse, Gender Dysphoria, PTSD and Anxiety, Character Death Rating: T Synopsis: Jon Kent knew he pretty much had the perfect family life, but something still felt wrong with himself. At the height of feeling like an alien in his own skin, however, his world got turned upside down when his parents took in a troubled child who embodied everything he felt he lacked. However, becoming a brother ended up being the smallest of the trials brought by adopting Christopher Kent. And being best friends with Damian Wayne has not exactly helped keep a neutral perspective on the matter.

A/N: I have made no secret over the last few years just how disappointed i’ve been by the treatment and reintroduction of Chris Kent, aka Lor-Zod, in DC Comics. This little guy is one of my favorite comic book characters in existence, and it feels so dirty to see what has become of him. For a while, I’ve wanted to do a story that really tried to rectify the Rebirth version of Chris and the continuity at large with the core of the character I love, so this story is my attempt at that. I can only hope that I bridge that gap gracefully.

On the other end, I didn’t want to erase Damian or Jon and all the positives I have seen with their relationship and additions to the DCU at large. For their parts in this story, I want to focus on being in the middle school age range, all the confusion that entails, and open a dialogue about issues of gender and acceptance.

Obviously, these are a lot of heavy topics, and I am certain that despite my intentions, there can and will be things I mess up. My hope is, when that happens, you all can keep an open dialogue with me on the subjects. I want to learn and better myself and my portrayal of the issues.

That being said, please pay attention to the warnings throughout this fic. I will touch on dark subjects, and I don’t want anyone to read and feel unprepared for the subjects broached, which is part of the reason I chose to make an opening scene that is rather dark and disturbing on some levels. It won’t be ALL dark and uncomfortable, but I want to make this plea now rather than later.

I hope the story is still worth your read <3 Thank you for your time!

Chapter One: The Cost of Friends

Jon hates this.

At the absolute worst of times, his tiny body reminds him of just how unreliable it is. He can’t count on it, it’s not consistent — it’s not a Superman body no matter how hard he tries to fit it in as one. His limbs are gangly, his bones poke through pale kin, and his messy black hair curls untamed out from around his ears. It’s not good it doesn’t do what he needs it to do.

And at that moment, Jon’s terrified that it’s about to get himself and his best friend killed.

Ordinarily, being half-Kryptonian, Jon would easily burst through chains and bindings without a second thought. And he’s still strong, he tore through the ripe around his waist like it was taffy, but the chains keeping his legs and neck locked to the floor aren’t budging. And Jon’s getting progressively tired.

There’s something strange about this macabre carnival where he and Damian take the center ring. Of course, there is, because it’s Professor Pyg and he’s the stuff of nightmares. But beyond even that, the spotlights on them show with a heavy red glow that is making Jon sluggish and weak.

So weak that he’s less than a circus ring away from Damian and he still can’t get to him.

“Come now, come now, wait your turn,” the grotesque villain squeals in delight toward Jon. “Little Bat has been scheduled for this appointment for such a long time! You must be patient, my little bird. So patient. Everyone has their time with the professor.”

“Superboy!” Damian snarls from where he is tied up, flat and without his utility belt. He’s laying on a gurney that looks far from sanitary and, if Jon didn’t know better, it might even look like Damian is actually concerned. “Focus! Red sunlight radiation shouldn’t dull your brains as much as it does your strength!”

Blinking, Jon looks up to the spotlights again and can see, with what vague telescopic ability he still has, that there is something unusual about the spectrum of light coming from them. “Is that what this is?” he asks, voice small but filled with relief all the same.

“Oh, my, I cannot, must not, pass an opportunity to educate my subjects, inform them of their peril,” Professor Pyg pantomimes his way from the circus ring with Damian toward the center stage with Jon.

Immediately, Jon feels his body stiffen on instinct. He looks warily at the flabby, disgusting pig mask as the rest of the pudgy and unkempt professor makes his way toward Jon. He knows he should be focusing on getting free, but it’s a difficult thing to do when he’s being approached by unmitigated evil and brutality.

He isn’t sure how Damian gets his suit on every night if this is what Gotham patrols are really like.

“It is your body,” Pyg snorts and chortles.

A cold splash washes over Jon. “My body?” he repeats with wide eyes.

“Get away from him, Pyg!” Damian roars, his gurney shaking and rocking with struggle.

“It isn’t right, doesn’t fit on your bones,” Pyg bemoans, jerking out his hip and slithering his own arms around his chest and waist. He sways back and forth on his feet with a sashay of his hips. “It misses the shape of your spirit, the delicate frame of your face. And it’ll only get worse with age.”

Despite himself, Jon feels his struggle slow to a complete stop. His eyes widen as he looks at Pyg. There is a chill that travels from the base of his spine up, standing all his hair on end.

Deep inside of Jon’s chest, muscles tighten and his heart thunders. He feels a shiver move from his core. No oh no oh no oh no. HIs guts churn, his jaw trembles.

“Oh, you feel it, don’t you, that deep deep down,” Pyg continues, approaching. “You’re in the last years of it being passable, of being acceptable. Before your bones grind and the sinews snap into shapes thick and unbecoming of your gentle nature. I see what you are, in that deep deep down, because I am an artist who shapes and molds my subjects out from their souls.”

“You’re a monster,” Jon whispers, his voice giving up halfway through.

Pyg’s eyes shine with something dangerous through the outsides of his mask. He reaches forward and cups Jon’s cheek with his itchy gloved hand. Jon doesn’t even know when he got so close; when he started towering so tall over Jon.

“You’ll be one of my finest Dollotrons,” Pyg promises, rubbing his thumb just under Jon’s eye. “But your clay’s too strong, have to soften you up, get you nice and fleshy, then I’ll shave and I’ll cut and I’ll shape you right up.”

It doesn’t come off as a promise, so much as it does a threat, one that terrifies and unsettles Jon deep down within himself.

Jon’s mind draws a blank, his eyes wide and unfocused and he attempts, desperately, to come up with some intelligent response. But he can’t, not while a fear racks his every nerve and turns his muscles to stone.

It takes Jon completely and utterly by surprise when a familiar whoosh in the air flies overhead before glass crashes and electricity sparks. He catches a glance at the familiar shape of a Batarang lodged into the spotlight directly overhead.

He’s instantly overcome with relief.

Pyg releases his cheek and steps back wildly, looking around. “No! Not now! My art is not ready!” he cries out before letting loose some piglike squeals and sobs.

Looking toward Damian, Jon expects to see his friend released but is surprised to see Damian still trapped. He squints, uncertain of what’s happening when a second then third Batarang plunge into the remaining red sun spotlights.

“Batman?” Jon wonders out loud.

“Ugh,” Damian lets out in frustration before struggling with even more force against his bindings. “Overdramatic, sanctimonious, can’t believe—“

Dollotrons are racing onto the tent floor while Professor Pyg whines and bemoans his ultimate fate, but as the lights extinguish one by one, the shadows take on a new form.

She moves like a dancer, each step and hit against the army of zombified victims perfectly paced and timed. She is all in black, save for her golden accents and bat, and she spares not a single motion. A kick becomes a launch for a leap becomes a smack becomes a twirl becomes a fist to the face of the blubbering Professor. And each and every movement grows in its momentum.

Jon has never seen anything like this outside of super speed, and he certainly hasn’t seen it using the shapes and silhouettes of the shadows like a comforting show curtain. He has so many questions and so many concerns that he forgets himself and getting free. Even if he could, with his body still unresponsively slow and dulled from the radiation.

Damian, at the least, is in motion, finally getting one of his hands free and using the points of his gauntlet to slice through the leather of the other bindings. He is muttering to himself, annoyed and embarrassed based on the flush in his cheeks. It’s not a rare sight but it is unusual for Jon to see Damian this way around one of his multitudes of siblings.

The shadowy bat launches into a final attack, knocking out the last of the Dollotrons before pouncing on the escaping Professor Pyg like a hungry lioness.

With her full weight on Pyg, the Bat narrows her eyes and for the first time can really be seen by Jon as she reaches over and yanks Pyg’s disgusting mask off of his face. Her lips curl in displeasure, but it doesn’t take away from her fair features or the delicate, smooth control she has over her body.

“Wow,” Jon hears himself say as Damian reaches his side and begins pulling out a small blowtorch for the chains. “Is that your sister?”

“SHH!” Damian hisses.

Jon strains to listen to whatever is being said between the Bat and Pyg, but it gets him nowhere, only words at a time coming in clearly as his powers remain in flux. Regardless, Pyg is squirming and blubbering too much for it to matter anyway.

“Took her damn time,” Damian snarls, letting Jon lean on him as he glares toward his sister.

“She saved our lives,” Jon reminds him.

Damian’s nose curls. “Tt, debatable.”

Cassandra apparently finishes whatever minor conversation she was having with Pyg and flips him over, handcuffing him swiftly. She’s powerful and strong without losing her leanness or size, it mesmerizes Jon in a way. By the time she looks up at them, her expression has completely changed.

“You okay?” she asks them both.

“No thanks to you,” Damian says at the same time Jon gets out, “All thanks to you!”

Something approximating a smile crosses her face before she gets to her feet and reaches up to her ear. “Oracle. Done.”

Looking at Cassandra, Jon feels like he’s found yet another new hero. “Whoa, your sister’s awesome. And cool. And so in control,” Jon tells Damian, his strength returning. “You’ve got so many siblings, can I have your sister?”

“Father would be displeased, otherwise I’d say yes,” Damian huffs in that way that Jon cannot tell, for the life of him, if it’s sarcasm or not.

***

Damian watches as his friend flies off.

It took the better part of an hour as well as a stop at Big Belly Burger for Jon to feel up to the task, but the half-Kryptonian flies home after departing from them and Damian watches him go.

Cassandra, as it turns out, is also there. She leans back against her motorcycle — a sleek but redundant design, like any of the numerous other bat-themed motorcycles or vehicles any of their extended family has access to — and watches Damian more than Jon.

They haven’t had much time with just the two of them. Their paths rarely intersect. And Damian is pretty sure he prefers it that way.

His cheeks are still on fire from the embarrassment of being rescued by her.

“I would have gotten out,” he informs her, crossing his arms. “Pyg was distracted and far away from me. I was working on my restraints.”

She tilts her head at him, a frown tight on her face. “Distracted you, too,” she points out.

And Damian knows she’s right about that, he was distracted. Just the look on his friend’s face, the growing horror and dread. Jon isn’t used to the types of villains that Gotham can throw at people, the psychological toll it takes. Damian is, or at least he likes to think he is, but Jon still can be scared and surprised.

But what looks crossed Jon’s face at that moment were unexpected even to Damian. He had never seen anything like it. Jon had been soaking up every word and phrase like it had been ripped straight from his dreams.

It was enough that it frightened Damian for his friend, and he didn’t even know why.

Over the course of an hour and a Big Belly Burger, Jon had refrained from mentioning a single thing about it.

That, too, was very unlike Jon.

Such things could be dwelled on at another time, though. Damian had the pressing matter at hand of his own reckoning. And his so-called sister.

Without looking up to meet Cassandra’s gaze, Damian kicked at the ground. “What are you going to tell father about tonight?” he asks.

“Truth,” Cass answers unhelpfully.

Gritting his teeth, Damian looks back at her, eyes narrowed and angry. “That’s not fair, you know,” he growls at her. “You never come around, never work with any of the rest of us, and then you pop in and judge us from on high. No wonder father speaks highly of you. You’re just like him.”

Her brows come together in a way that wrinkles her forehead. It’s hard to read her expression, even with her modified mask and hood. “I’m not,” she says. Her words sound final, but she apparently thinks better of them and shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “Judging you. I’m not.”

Damian looks her over. She hasn’t moved from her bike but her arms have dropped to her side. She is looking at him rather intently and it makes him want to squirm in his combat boots.

“Tt, sure you’re not,” he finally snaps back. “You’ll still tell father that I was captured by Professor Pyg.”

“Yes,” she said too casually.

“And that I let Superboy get captured, too,” Damian glowered more at that one, his eyes rest on the asphalt beneath his feet. He kicked again.

Cassandra paused slightly longer with that one.

When her hand snaked its way onto his shoulder, Damian flinched bodily. He slapped her hand away and twisted around to get away on instinct. He hated that — no one should be able to sneak up on him. He was trained by League of Assassins, he had been prepared since before he could speak to be on guard.

But Cassandra had, too.

She looked at him passively. “Not your fault, happens,” she said, in reference to Pyg.

“That’s not what father will think,” Damian snaps.

“I’ll tell him,” she promises.

Damian stares at her for a moment, sizing her up and considering all the ways he could make her more respectful to him. But it fizzles out quickly. He knows, as much as he resists the thought, that he isn’t upset with her.

He’s upset with himself.

“In the League, they trained us that there is a cost to every relationship formed,” Damian informs Cassandra like she doesn’t intuitively know from her own history. “Partnerships, even necessary ones, would cost you heavily. They could be deadly. And more relationships than strictly necessary should be avoided. All this family and friendship that is just around me all the time now. I don’t want to pay the cost for them.” He looks to the skies where Jon once flew. “I don’t want my friend to pay for them either. It’s not worth it.”

Cassandra stays quiet, but she places her hand on Damian’s shoulder again. He doesn’t attempt to knock it off this time.

“Sometimes it is,” she tells him.

But Damian isn’t so sure. Especially not hearing it from her. Cassandra does not work with others to the same degree as the rest of their family. She doesn’t go to school. She doesn’t join teams outside of father’s pet projects. She doesn’t operate in a daily partnership like Damian has with Grayson or father.

She seems to be living by those lonesome standards that the League taught Damian. And all anyone can do is praise her.

What sort of lesson is Damian supposed to learn from that?

***

Jekuul feels oppressively hot outside of the crystal palace.

Lor has watched his parents stand, looming in the skies, over the land’s natives as they constructed the palace for them. He watched as their eyes glowed threateningly each time the native population faltered, and he remembered how easily their bones cracked and snapped when corrected by the general and his lieutenant. It was equal parts thrilling and terrifying to witness.

Inside the palace, things are smooth and temperature regulated. The pantries are stocked with foods far greater than anything Lor had tasted within the Phantom Zone, but still foreign and sometimes unexpected.

If he questions what was on his plate, he is quickly reprimanded.

So he doesn’t ask.

It should be easy, if not simple, to follow the rules at this point. Stay in the palace, eat when told without questions, listen to his lessons from the Sunstones without fault.

He is the Last Son of Krypton, and he is supposed to inherit everything the universe owed them for their lost greatest civilization. All he has to do is stay in place, not ask questions, don’t be, don’t move.

But he was not born on Krypton, nor was he born on Jekuul — New Krypton, by his father’s declaration — he was born in the perilous depths of the Phantom Zone. A prison.

Inside of the Phantom Zone, there was no movement, there were no questions, there was not being or doing or screaming or aging — that had been the only thing he’d ever existed and it was torturous.

Outside of the Phantom Zone, he thought, things are supposed to be different. He is supposed to move and change and grow, he thinks.

So even though there is every reason not to leave the palace, Lor-Zod leaves in the oppressive heat and feels the sun against his Kryptonian skin as he flies under the two yellow suns.

As he moves across the lands, the violet skinned natives of Jekuul fall to their knees and avert their eyes. They whisper and whimper in a tongue completely foreign to Lor-Zod and it feels, well. It feels good.

Lor-Zod knows that they react this way to his parents, but to have even adults of the alien race fall in reverence to him, he feels more powerful. He feels like the Last Son of Krypton that his father insists he is.

He wonders, vaguely, if it is something his father would like to see.

Deep down, Lor hopes so. Because it is easy for Lor to imagine what his father would think or say when he doesn’t like something Lor has done. He has no concept of what would happen when he makes his father pleased.

He is nearly at the end of the primitive village when Lor’s eyes fall on an unusual sight.

One of the Jekuul natives, a young female no older than Lor and having not yet earned her yellow stripes, stands and stares up at Lor. She doesn’t drop to her knees or avert her eyes.

For a few seconds, Lor continues flying, arching his head back to watch for the girl to finally do as she is supposed to but she never does.

Aggravated and surprised, Lor turns in his flight path and descends, landing promptly in front of the girl.

“Why aren’t you kneeling?” he asks before his feet are even secure.

She stares at him, head tilting. Her black eyes are large and reflective, Lor can see himself in them.

He huffs at her, crossing his arms like he has seen his father do so many times before. “Don’t you speak Kryptonian?” he sneers.

After a quiet moment, she scratches at her head and looks around. That seems to answer Lor’s question for him.

“You’re supposed to kneel,” he groans. “Look, like this,” he says, bowing down to one knee and lowering his head. He’s seen so many others do it before.

Then he hears laughter.

Lor looks up and sees the girl covering her mouth as she giggles before she gets down on both her knees and dips her body down in a silly, teetering display. A mockery. Then she gets back to her feet.

“No!” Lor snaps, getting back to his own feet and grabbing her shoulders.

At first, she stiffens, surprised, and looks at him wildly. Her hands grip onto his wrists and she seems afraid.

“Like this,” Lor repeats, then pushes down on her. He dips with her, down to the ground on their knees. But when they both lower their heads, they immediately smack foreheads.

It feels like nothing to Lor, but for the girl, she jolts back and begins rubbing at her skull.

Instinctively, just like he follows his parents’ motions, Lor reaches up and rubs at his own head. They stare at each other as they both sit there on their knees, rubbing their heads.

Then, despite himself, Lor giggles.

The girl giggles.

They both giggle.

Once the giggles subside, they are both sitting on their knees in the dirt and staring at each other expectantly. They don’t speak the same language. They aren’t remotely the same and, yet, Lor has never felt more of a need to communicate with someone in his life.

He points at his chest, at the house emblem emblazoned on his armor. “Zod,” he tells her. “Zod,” he repeats.

For a moment, the girl is quiet, absorbing his words, then she points at her chest and the purple skin. “Jekuul,” she says.

“No, not what you are,” he mutters, catching on quickly. “I’m not…” He is a Zod, though. Maybe more than he is a Kryptonian, if only in his own mind. He sucks in a breath and tries again. He points at his face. “Lor,” he tells her.

Understanding fills her expression and she points at her own face. “Ti’ahl.”

And, maybe for the first time, Lor feels a wide smile cross his face.

From that moment on, their afternoon is filled with delight.

Ti’ahl points at every structure, every creature, every plant with words and phrases that will not stop saying until Lor repeats. Repeatedly, Lor picks Ti’ahl up easily, flies her from location to location, lifts up every boulder and animal they come across as she claps in delight.

It’s thrilling — and Lor laughs more than he has ever laughed before in his life.

By the time the second sun begins to set, a chill quickly crosses the lands, and Lor can see Ti’ahl gain a shiver. It makes Lor feel bad to see Ti’ahl uncomfortable in any way.

“Hold on,” he calls to her at one point, slowing her run through the grass. He reaches up and carefully unclips his cape from his armor. Grinning, he floats toward Ti’ahl and drapes her with the heavy fabric.

After Lor ties the cape closed over her neck, Ti’ahl looks down and touches the knot. A funny look crosses her face and she looks at Lor.

Ti’ahl leaps onto a nearby rock, standing tall and crossing her arms. “ZOD!” she declares herself.

Realizing what is happening, Lor giggles and drops obediently to his knees. “I kneel!” he laughs.

At first, Ti’ahl joins his laughter, but then she becomes strangely quiet.

Confused, Lor looks up at her. “Ti’ahl?” he asks before realizing that a shadow has crossed over them both.

Heart sinking, Lor twists around and sees his father, arms crossed, standing over them both. He looks displeased.

“Father,” Lor gets out, voice thin.

“Is this how I find the Last Son of Krypton? Kneeling before his lessers?” the general snarls. He drops his hands to his sides as Lor begins to stand up and easily kicks Lor back down. “If you lower yourself in the dirt for a mongrel child, you will stay there for your leader, do you understand?”

Breath catching in his throat, Lor nods. “Y-yes, Sir.”

“To the palace. Immediately,” General Zod orders, his gaze carrying over to Ti’ahl. “There will be a price to pay for this, Lor-Zod. Let us see if you are grown enough to pay it.”

Lor cannot bring himself to look at Ti’ahl as he leaps to his feet and takes off in the air. His blood is rushing to his ears, tears building up in his eyes even before he reaches his top speeds of flight.

It isn’t until he was home that he realized he had left his cape.

#Jon Kent #Chris Kent #Superman #Superboy #Damian Wayne #Cassandra Cain #writing #super fic #Super: Super Brothers #Professor Pyg #General Zod

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bluebellhairpin · 5 years

Text

Unbeatable Rivalry

Harry Hook X Reader

A/N: First Harry Hook request. This boy needs more love too. - Nemo

Request: #9 for Harry hook from the dialogue starter thing please :) And I would love to be tagged in it once it gets posted - @fangirl--of-everything

Prompt: 9. “This is a lot harder than it looks and I don’t think you realise it.”

Summary: You and Harry have been at it since he got to Auradon. He never let a day go by without annoying you, and you never let the sun set without telling him how unbearable he was. But things change. Who would’ve guessed it started with another bad day?

Masterlist

The newest VK’s were giving Auradon hell.

They were troublemakers, clowns, silver-tongues, devils. Or at least Harry Hook was.

He never let up trying to harass you until you had to get up and leave. Your mother raised you to have self-control like a royal should, and your father taught you to do good even if it meant doing something society believed to be bad; but this pirate, this boy kept testing and pushing what you learnt. You knew you were going to end up breaking, and doing something even your father would agree to be bad.

He was there wherever you went, lurking in your peripheral vision and shooting that damn same smile every time you caught him staring.

It made your heart beat faster and your mind grow hazy and you didn’t know why.

One rainy day, when tourney practice outside was traded up for training drills inside, Harry and his insistent annoyance to your existence simply became a problem on a growing list.

You were already on a warpath by the end of the school day; the new tourney practice had interrupted your own fencing session, a bozo in the hallway knocked you to the ground and had the audacity to not stay and help you, and your parents had given you the news that morning that they wouldn’t be able to make it to come visit you the upcoming holidays because they decided to visit their old home instead.

Needless to say you were in a bad mood.

Lonnie noticed how on-edge you were acting and took you aside.

“Hood, you alright?” she asked, and you looked up at her. She was one of the few people you’d let call you ‘Hood’.

Robin Hood was your father, and in his younger days after marrying Marian he was caught stealing from some of the more ‘Royal’ royals like Arial and even Beast and Belle, which almost got him sent to the Isle. ‘Hood’ was a touche name for you, since many would use it as a mocking name, underlying saying you were more of a Isle-dweller then Auradon student. You knew Lonnie wasn’t like that.

Her mother broke the rules for the greater-good too.

“I’ll be fine, just a rough day.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair and shoving your books back in your locker. She leaned on the door beside you and smiled. “What?” You asked, she was always hiding something when she smiled like that.

“Oh nothing, really. It’s just I might have something that could cheer you up.” she started, grabbing your hand as soon as you shut your locker, and dragged you towards where tourney practice would be going on.

“Lonnie-”

“No, let me explain.” she interrupted, “Jay owes me for when I went to the Isle with them. I saved his ass so bad once they got back. This is part of his favour paid off.” she explained and opened the door to the training room.

And he was there.

You suddenly hated everything again.

“(y/n) woah, get your butt back here.” Lonnie said, grabbing you to turn you back around as you tried to leave.

“Why?” you whined, “I don’t like him, you know that.” She smiled down at you and pushed you into the centre ring, handing you your sword before starting to back away.

“Pirates use swords. He,” she pointed to Harry, “Is honestly the best swordsman in the whole school, not that I’d like to admit it.”

“You force me to stand with him and he won’t be the only person with a blade being run through their middles.” you hissed, Lonnie letting out a laugh as she moved behind the barriers to watch.

You could hear Harry let out a laugh behind you. You sucked in a breath as you turned around to face him with a glare.

“You have a lot of your father in you.” he said, leaning suavely on his sword as he spoke. You sent him a sickly sweet smile.

“I do. I’m also a thief, legendary archer, master sword person, fearless, charitable. But I’m also like my mother. Brave, kind, selfless, a worker of silent bribery.” You said, each word bringing you closer to him, your voice slowly going down. “I also share traits both of them have.”

“Like what?” he asked, leaning forwards to be inches away from your face.

“A limited tolerance to harassment.” you said and brought your sword up to his throat, catching him off-guard and causing him to stumble back to sit on one of the training blocks. His eyes flickered from the blade at his throat up to you, your gaze like steel.

“Well, I must you do hold something rather appealing in your mannerisms.” he started, moving like lightning to have you turned around and pinned to his chest, his sword now at your throat. “You’re not like the others at this school. I catch a lot of people taking looks at me, but you don’t. What do you call that?” he finished, speaking into your ear.

You managed to push yourself out of his hold, swords clashing for a few long moments before your blades and faces were brought together again.

“I’d call it dignity. Not really something I’d expect you to have heard of before.”

You took this break apart as a way to regain your bearings. You looked around the room and saw a crowd had gathered.

Lonnie and Jay were watching proudly from where you last saw them, the other VK’s were nearby. Evie was smiling like an idiot, she’d mentioned something about ‘unrivalled tension’ of some kind flowing between you both, so it didn’t surprise you to see her hear at all. Harry’s pals Uma and Gil were here too, up front and centre to watch one of their own fight with one of Auradon’s. King Ben and Mal were even lurking near the back, both watching intently at how this could end up.

You swung your sword a few times, circling the pirate with analytical eyes, waiting for the right time to strike.

His eyes followed you too, your movements mesmerising him in a way that pushed him further. For him it was like a test, a trial you put on for him to tell whether he was good enough for you.

“This is a lot harder than it looks and I don’t think you realise it.” he said, eyes trailing over your form with a smirk as you continued your stalk-like circling. You tilted your head with a light smile, not saying anything in response to his comment, but somewhat knowing what he meant.

He’d never directly said anything, but almost everyone in the school knew if they messed with you they’d get him too, even if it was under the bleachers, because you were unspokenly his, even if you hadn’t said so either.

He took the first move, and what followed was a burr of metallic clashing and twisting body movements that ended with you pinning him on the training room floor.

That qued everyone leaving. They’d seen the fight, and you’d won. Simple.

What happened after was nothing simple. Everything became a lot more complicated.

The following days for you were spent wondering how to feel.

Before, you loathed Harry. To the point you were sure he was what caused all your problems, from losing a pen to getting a fail on your exams. You wanted nothing more then to send him back to the Isle or kill him yourself.

Now, you couldn’t get him off your mind, and not in the way of before. Now you wondered about where he was, who he was with, whether he’d like the outfit you’d decided to wear today. How much you thought of him annoyed you almost as much as he did, and yet you couldn’t stop.

What happened after everyone left that rainy day was something you weren’t entirely sure you remembered properly.

It was as blurry and went by as fast as the sword fight did, but you knew it ended with blushes dusting both your faces and a couple swollen lips.

But you did know that Harry’s insistence on being around you more often didn’t exactly bother you. As far as everyone else knew you both just came to an understanding after the sword fight, however some certain people stayed around long enough to find out it was more than that.

We’re all looking at you Evie, you too Lonnie. Don’t you think you’re being overlooked either Uma.

Except for the fact that Harry has an untameable need to ‘keep things fresh’.

So after you both decided to make things official and known to the whole school that you were his and he was yours, he decided the best way to do that was to pull you into a breath-taking, mind-numbing kiss. In the cafeteria. With the whole student body watching. Including teachers.

Harry got a lovely talking to from the teachers, followed by an earful from you once he got back to visit your dorm.

You got a phone call from your mother saying that you didn’t need to follow in her footsteps by dating a criminal. You told her he wasn’t. You don’t think she believed you.

Your dad told you you’d got a good catch, then he insisted to talk to Harry. You’re pretty sure your boyfriend got threatened.

#harry hook x reader #harry hook #harry hook imagine #harry hook one shot #decendants x reader

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stusbunker · 6 years

Text

Questions: When?

A Supernatural Fan-fiction

Featuring: Sam Winchester x Female Reader

Setting: Starts in Season 8, Ends in Season 9

Chapter 2 of my Questions Series

A/N: Thanks for bearing with me on the backstories, now we’ll get to more meaty stuff. This is right as Y/N visits the Bunker for the first time. Basically Sam’s perspective this time. Some dialogue taken from the show. Also, this gif makes me want to cry. Thank you @spndaily for this gem!

Remember a comment or a reblog goes a LONG way. xoxo Stu

Warnings: Mentions of Amelia, lots of angst, Trials!Sam, Gadreel!Sam

Sam was grasping at straws, trying to stay upright from the toll of the trials. What he wanted to know above all else was; when all was said and done, would it be enough?

It had been a long time since Sam had felt like he had a place to sit back and relax with friends. Bobby had been family and his place was more of a library overflowing a bachelor pad than a place for entertaining. Having Y/N spend time with him and Dean at the Bunker felt good, after he got over the general uncertainty of seeing her again. Dean and he seemed to be back on track, after the first trial and settling into the Bunker, their year apart truly started to fade.

What hadn’t faded, was the feelings he had for Amelia. With Y/N around, another woman who he wouldn’t admit he was attracted to, the ache of leaving Amelia behind resurfaced. She was better off without him, the truth did little to help it from eating him from the inside out. Dean had finished giving Y/N the tour of the areas they had pilfered, knowing that there was still a lot of ground to cover.

“Some place you got here,” she seemed genuinely impressed, smiling easily at Sam as he was perched over a tower of open books. The Men of Letters’ library was immense and he felt compelled to keep reading and discovering. But Y/N tended to draw his eyes from the books a little too easily.

“I know, each day I find more things we didn’t know.” Sam exhaled.

“Looks like you’ll have your research itch scratched for a good long while,” Y/N stood with her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, one leg bent making her hips swell and her backside more noticeable.

Just then Dean appeared with beer for everyone, “What’d I tell you? Nerdgasming over the library.”

Y/N chuckled at Dean’s jab, but she softened at Sam’s bewilderment. “I think it’s smart, knowledge is power right?”

“Thank you.” Sam said, looking pointedly at Dean. Dean waved him off as he finally strode over with the beer for Sam.

“So, Garth has been pretty tight lipped about you guys. What gives?” Y/N slowly began to pry their situation with Kevin Tran and the Demon Tablet out of the brothers’ mouths. By the time she had wrapped her head around everything, it was time for a food run, Dean volunteered and neither Sam nor Y/N protested.

Twenty minutes later and Sam was oddly aware of Y/N’s perfume on the air. She sat across from him, scanning through the titles he had before him on one of the massive tables. “What?” Sam huffed, slightly amused at how she looked like she had gotten caught snooping.

“You would have made some lawyer, Winchester,” she shrugged, taking a long pull off her beer. Her lips pressed against the cold glass. “I can’t stand to read more than the job requires, and here you are completely content. Or as close as our kind gets to content.”

Sam’s jaw jutted out, shrugging he pondered, “Maybe I’m just curious. Besides, like you said, the more I know, the better prepared I am for whatever the next trial is.”

Her face shifted, her eyes flashing with understanding. She didn’t ask anymore questions, yet Sam cleared his throat trying to get back to the entry he had been reading about demon possession during the Salem Witch trials. A feeling tickled the back of his neck, like being caught shirtless on an autumn night. She had found a chink in his emotional armor, one he couldn’t even locate.

***

The trials had been his only tangible thought for weeks, his body slowly slipping away from him. Sam Winchester had done many things in his thirty years, but quitting wasn’t one of them. Every muscle protested as he stood to head back to the library. He felt the floor shift beneath his boots like wet sand, the walls spiraling like a fun house tube. Slowly he fought to remain upright and into the solid foundation of the wood framed chair.

The only thing that made it worse was Dean’s constant doubts, the subtle glances and the outright challenges, all chipping at and fueling his resolve in varying measure. With Benny gone and Kevin in the wind, the pressure he felt to keep on chugging along was all that made sense. Y/N had left after only a few days at the Bunker, claiming she got stir crazy and finding herself a case in Colorado. Sam didn’t know why he kept checking his phone. Dean was with Charlie and he was benched.

He went back to the shooting range; he hated being left behind. That old nagging sensation of being the burden and not old/big/capable enough resurfaced after so many years, did not quell the Winchester stubbornness. When all was cleaned up after the Djinn family, Sam felt guilty because he had screwed up. Yet, Dean hadn’t fought him, he had hugged him. Maybe what he saw in the dream was worse than Sam imagined, maybe Charlie was a good influence on his brother. Sam wasn’t certain of anything anymore.

***

A month later

“Easy, Y/N,” Sam turned to look for Dean’s support. Dean played it cool, refusing to cast his line into the building tide.

“Excuse me?! Look at you, you are clearly not right in the head,” he hadn’t seen her this angry before. It was infuriating to be belittled while trying to make a point. He bit back his spite and listened as she continued to rant. “Besides, since when has it ever been a good idea to keep a demon in your basement?!”

“Crowley may be a douche bag, but we’ve got him locked down. Unless you don’t trust me either?” Dean finally backed him up. Sam shrugged, trying not to let his anger get the best of him. She looked at his brother and then back at Sam, eyeing him suspiciously. He felt like he was being sized up and unconsciously straightened his back. He had a foot on her and she remained unimpressed.

“I cannot believe you two! You left the door open for these assholes and then decide to shack up while the world is stuck swallowing Angels. I show up to find a scared shitless honor student and now this.”

Kevin murmured from the corner, causing Dean and Sam to bark, “Shut up, Kevin!” in unison. She stared at the high ceiling of the map room and huffed. Sam knew she wasn’t going to back down from this, but, for now, it was for the best.

“Listen, you can stay and help us with the Angel problem or you can go about your business.” Dean was done arguing, he kept glancing at Sam like he was expecting him to pass out or be sick. Sam rolled his eyes and continued trying to persuade Y/N.

“Look, if we can get Crowley to give us the name of every demon he has topside. We can hunt them down. All of them.” Sam could sense her calming down, despite the glare he was getting.

“He will break, okay? And when he does, we’ll hold him down while the kid knives him. Then we all go out for ice cream and strippers.” Dean was really selling it now. Y/N cracked a smile and rolled her eyes at his brother’s cheek.

“Just stay away from him. Both of you.” Sam emphasized to both Y/N and Kevin.

“So now what?” Kevin asked, sensing the argument had dropped off. The hunters got to work, leaving the prophet to keep decoding. The bunker was oddly full and Sam felt better for the first time in a long time.

***

A month later

“So I know why you’re keeping little Kevin around, reads above his grade level and all. But why exactly is she still here, Moose?” Crowley was growing bored and enjoyed getting under Sam’s skin more than anything. “I mean, she’s probably a decent hunter, but rather abrasive isn’t she?”

Sam cocked his head and looked Crowley in his greedy dark eyes, “I’d love to see you say that to her face.”

“I might have, in not so many words. Why do you think I have been hollering all morning. She started waterboarding me.” Crowley croaked indignantly. Sam raised his eyebrows, looking at the small patch of water that drained from the center of the devil’s trap.

“Sure.” Sam turned to leave.

“She fancies you, you know. Somebody like her doesn’t stay in one place this long if there isn’t a reason. Should probably let her down easy, yeah? Guy like you tends to, uh, I don’t mean to be indelicate. But are your nethers cursed? Because---”

Sam realized he had frozen in place, listening to the drivel spew from the former King of Hell’s mouth. His chest tightened and he let out the breath he had been holding. He stepped through the first wall and sealed the demon behind him. Letting Crowley rot in his taunts.

***

After First Born

“All I know is Dean came in asking about putting ear muffs on the possessing angels. So Kevin and I got to work.” She explained, the loss of trust in her eyes hurt him deeply, but he swallowed and let her continue.

“As soon as the sigils were up, Kevin asked Dean what was really going on. We were in the library and there was shouting from the store room. I figured it was just Dean’s temper catching up with how long you were gone, but then you came out, cool as a cucumber.” Y/N flinched, shaking her head as if evening out a scale. “Well, the other you. I don’t even remember what he said before, before firebombing Kevin’s insides.”

Sam sniffled as she held herself, the images scorched inside her memory, causing her to close her eyes.

“I just can’t stay here after, that,” Y/N whispered. “Castiel is going after Metatron, which is great. But I can’t be here alone, not with you. Maybe if Dean gets back and you guys figure some of this out--”

“Could you trust me again?” Sam’s voice hitched, trying not to let the weakness from the failed spell seep into his words.

“I would need to trust both of you, again. After Dean did that to you, you of all people. How do I know I am safe with either of you?”

She finally looked at him, her eyes pained and fearful, two things he would fight to never see on her face ever again. He wanted to retch, to shake the sense into her. But his hands had killed Kevin and he wouldn’t lift them to her, not now. Not ever. She double checked her pack and that her phone was charged. He stared mindlessly at his computer screen as she climbed the metal staircase. He let it all out once the heavy door fell back into place high above him. If those Bunker walls could talk. Pain would be their first language.

Chapter 3: Why?

@dontshootmespence @madlu45 @because-imma-lady-assface @ericaprice2008

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madaraism · 6 years

Text

Algea - Part II of Himeros

Ἄλγεα ; The Algea – the personified spirits of grief, sorrow and distress.

Summary: Following the aftermath of Riley’s departure, Liam has pressing royal duties to focus on – namely, producing an heir.

Part I - Himeros // Part III - Aletheia // Part IV - Apate // Part V - Hestia // Part VI - Achlys

Pairings: Liam x Riley, Liam x Madeleine

Rating: Mature

Words: 4220

A/N: Thank you for all the overwhelming reviews for the first part of this story! Himeros was originally intended to be an angsty one-shot but reading all your replies and thinking back to poor Liam and Riley, I felt like I needed to continue on the story. If you ever feel that Himeros was a good enough ending, that is perfectly fine – I just feel the need to perhaps give our poor King some closure. I have decided to add in Riley’s name, just to make the dialogue easier to understand. I apologise again for the chapter…

Inspirations for this chapter – Dreaming with a Broken Heart by John Mayer and Almost is Never Enough by Ariana Grande.

Tag List: @theroyalweisme @hhiggs @itzmequeenb @alicars @cocomaxley @blackcatkita @trianiasti @viktoriapetit @umccall71 @topsyturvy-dream @kawairinrin @jayjay879 @bobasheebaby @choiceswreckedme @queencatherynerhys @laniquelove @philiasperanza @hopefulmoonobject

“For the love of god, Maxwell, I wish you would just stop doing your childish dance moves at every damn court event we are invited to.” Bertrand starts, and Maxwell immediately rolls his eyes, his face filled with glee.

“Hey, it got gloomy alright? Riley said I had to have fun on her behalf.” He defends.

Bertrand snorts as they make their way out of their car and through the entrance of their home. He masks his obvious disappointment on the lack of Riley’s presence for the past two days by jabbing complaints at his childish brother.

“Riley this, Riley that, think about the reputation you’re setting on House Beaumont for once, will you?”

Bertrand enjoys the impression he leaves on people of being a constantly blunt man.

Luckily, Maxwell can read him like an open book – he sees the worry hidden within his brother’s eyes and the constant distraught hammered into his tense shoulders.

He knows he is referring to Riley’s current predicament with Liam. Maxwell places a hand on Bertrand’s shoulder, voice lowering in concern. He hopes his words can bring him a sense of ease. “We’ll figure something out. All our brainstorming can’t possibly be a waste of time. …We owe Riley this much. Now let’s go see how our honorary Beaumont is doing.”

Bertrand’s grey eyes gazes into Maxwell’s.

He knows and appreciates just how hard they have been working for the past few months, no matter how exasperating – endless frustrated pacing in the study, papers strewn on the floor, books upon books in search of some possible loophole.

He places his index finger and thumb on the bridge of his nose, sighing out deeply before nodding and following Maxwell.

. . . . .

Liam finds out about her disappearance in the early hours of the next day.

He had meant to visit her as soon as he got back, but paperwork had delayed him.

When he arrives at the Beaumont Estate, Liam is surprised to find Bertrand and Maxwell with such neutral faces, welcoming him in.

Bertrand, whose appearance involves his brows slightly furrowed in the presence of Maxwell, showed almost no emotion.

Maxwell, whose appearance beared similarity to a bright sun on a clear day, mirrored Bertrand’s emotionless one.

If Liam didn’t grow up groomed to decipher and partake in the art of body language, he wouldn’t’ve suspected a thing.

Both Beaumont brothers had dark circles under their eyes. With closer inspection, he could see their unshaven faces, the top button of Maxwell’s collared shirt undone, the even more rigid posture of Bertrand.

It appears to him that the brothers had not slept.

“…Bertrand, Maxwell. You two are oddly quiet,” Liam’s eyes trails over to the familiar stairs and hallway that leads to Riley’s room. “I hope you’re not still feeling the after-effects of Adelaide’s champagne?”

“Of course not, your highness. Are you looking for Lady Riley? Unfortunately, she is indisposed for the day-” Bertrand wants to continue but is halted by Maxwell. He gives him a warning look.

. .

“What do you mean she’s gone? She can’t just be gone. If this is some sad game of hide and seek-” His speech is cut short when a panicking Maxwell shoves the note into his face.

He feels the blood draining from his face when his eyes scans quickly across the card.

Bertrand mutters a string of curse words before he clenches his eyes shut, fingers quickly massaging his temple.

“We must not let the King know.”

Maxwell splutters in protest, “What?! Why not?!”

“Think of how he will be, Maxwell. Our people need him right now. He cannot have heartache ruining his role as King.” His voice is grave, hoping that he is speaking reason into his brother’s ears.

“Bertrand, this is crazy. He already married Madeleine when he is so obviously in love with Riley – you’re telling me he can’t function with a heartache?! What has he been doing for the past few months then?! What about Riley?!”

“Please! Maxwell! We will go find her ourselves,” Bertrand tries to persuade him, panic and desperation in his voice, “It’ll be like nothing happened. Think of how heartbroken Liam will be if he finds out.”

Maxwell’s face hardens at his words.

A stiff nod.

Reluctance played a big part in his features.

. .

Trust in our King.

Bertrand is taken back from the intensity of Maxwell’s gaze. His own collected stance from earlier seems to falter just slightly.

“I’m sorry Liam,” Maxwell begins, slightly timid. He runs his hand roughly through his own hair, trying to relieve some of the tension building up. “What Bertrand said isn’t true. I’m sorry Bertrand… I can’t bear to lie to one of my best friends about such an important issue.”

Bertrand had always shouldered everything regarding the welfares of House Beaumont. As the first born, he was always expected to.

Yet in this moment, Bertrand truly witnesses the growth in Maxwell. He sees his little brother standing beside him, poised to tell truth – calm, yet ready for whatever Liam might throw in their way.

He swallows, gaze moving cautiously from Maxwell to Liam.

The King’s jaw was clenched, shoulders squared with his arms behind his back – prepared.

Bertrand couldn’t decipher what his eyes read.

Maxwell finally breaks the silence, his gaze focused on anywhere but Liam.

“Riley… She’s… She left.”

. . . . .

He sits in the armchair in her room, the card that she had left for the Beaumont Brothers in his hand.

His eyes follow his fingers, tracing over every curve of each letter, each stroke, each little indent made from the pressure of the pen.

He imagines her writing the message on the desk on the other side of the room, and he finds himself wondering what emotions could have been going through her mind when she wrote this.

Merely over two days ago, they were sitting here in the very same spot, repeating their love for each other over and over.

Repeated kisses.

Repeated ‘I love you’s.

He finds himself stuck in the chair. Every inch of his body seemed to be tied down by endless bags of solid cement, gravity his worst enemy.

He can’t move.

He can’t blink.

He won’t move.

Perhaps if he stays seated, she will come waltzing through the doors, laughing the situation off as if it was a mere prank.

His stomach tightens painfully when he remembers her laugh.

Where did she go?

Where could she have gone?

He finds his mind racing through countless possibilities that could’ve resulted in her departure – every possible reason, every excuse, every tiny detail that he could’ve done.

Was it something that he had done?

His fingers turn numb when he remembers trailing his hands over her body, touching, feeling, caressing – he can almost feel her skin beneath his touch, ghosting over.

He closes his eyes, body still, as he chases over every minuscule moment that they had shared with each other.

He remembers the way the Cordonian sunset gave her a goddess-like glow when they shared drinks on her balcony.

He remembers how she would let his hand fall into her own whenever he let the back of their hands touch ever so lightly.

He remembers the mischievous glint in her eyes when they purposely got lost in the maze.

And he remembers how her body felt against his the last time they touched, the last time that they hugged – how soft, how warm, how at home, and how at ease she could make him feel just by wrapping her arms around him, a hand trailing along his back and another getting lost in his hair.

He remembers the last kiss that they shared. One that was filled with an overwhelming amount of love, one that reminded him of all the trials and difficulties they had experienced together, how it made his body warm and full, leaving him absolutely breathless.

Yet it was one that made his stomach do flips and turns at the sadness, desperation and regret that lingers on his lips.

He remembers how she looked at him when he told her he would see her soon. He had brushed off the wetness in her eyes as if it was nothing but the norm, but upon recalling, it was everything full of remorse and guilt.

He remembers how oddly calm she had looked.

And he wonders how long, and how much effort she had put into leaving him and his country.

But for what reason?

He drags his eyes across the card.

‘Tell him that he is a loving and generous King.’

But how was he supposed to rule without her by his side, even if it were as his mistress?

Not that it mattered – he loves her as if he was already married to her.

‘Tell him that I love him. That I always have, and I always will.’

He could hear her voice in his head, solemn.

He could see the tears in her eyes, the wetness on her cheeks as she would’ve hastily tried to wipe them away before anyone saw – even if she was alone in her room.

And he finds himself letting out a quiet, broken sob.

“Why, oh why, did you leave?”

He doesn’t know how long he spends with his eyes pressed against the back of his hand.

When he feels the accumulated tears backtrail down his arm, and the wetness on his thigh, he looks up with his heavy eyes, her room a blurry mess of white, creams and golds.

And he realises then.

It was such a meaningless court accessory to him that he hadn’t realised he had been staring at the answer the entire time.

He eyes the innocent wedding band on his left hand.

Oh, how stupid he feels.

How blatantly obvious.

He wonders how selfish he had possibly gotten, to ask her out of desperation to remain in the picture while he created a child with another woman.

She was selfless and loving. But no matter just how selfless and loving a person could possibly be, they would always have a bottom line, he thinks.

And he is positively sure that he had selfishly pushed her to her limit.

“Bastien,” He finds himself croaking out as he drags his heavy body over to where her bed is, curling up with his back facing the door.

He hears it open before he continues.

“Cancel my appointments for today, please,” He mutters with his eyes closed. He trusts his security detail to pass on the message.

“Yes, my King.”

“And Bastien…” Her scent from the sheets and pillows surround him. He wants to let it comfort him, but he knows he is undeserving of peace without her by his side.

“Find where she is… please.”

When the door closes once more, he finds himself letting his tears flow. He places his hopes on Bastien’s networks and database. He hopes and prays to every deity he knows that Bastien will find her, and that she will be willing to return to Cordonia to be by his side.

But until then, he allows himself to do nothing but wallow in grief.

Liam had never noticed how awfully big and cold her room, and her bed is without her presence.

He drifts off into a pitiful sleep while wondering if this was how she lived her lonely life in Cordonia when he is away.

. . . . .

Liam loses himself to his work.

He is oblivious to how much time, days, and weeks have passed since her departure.

The card that she wrote sits in a frame on his desk, face down.

Its purpose was contradictory in itself.

Her words serve as a reminder to him as what sort of King he is. It is a reminder of a love that they shared, one that was warm, comforting and passionate.

Yet her words remind him of her disappearance. Her touches, her smiles, her presence – sudden, fleeting, haunting.

The only thing that pushes him out of bed each day is Bastien’s lead on her whereabouts.

“We have airport records and security footage of Lady Riley leaving Cordonia for New York.”

It was the most that they could do within Liam’s power as King.

His messages sent to her number and email were left unread and ignored.

He weeps as he forces himself to reread the card that she had left.

He hopes she does not hate him.

All that he can do now is wait for further leads from within America before he can go visit her himself.

He hopes she thinks of him.

. . . . .

The next time he sees his wife one on one, they have a discussion that is more one-sided, more persuasive, than anything.

It was tactical and surprisingly civilised.

As expected, it was another business arrangement.

Her green eyes were calm, red lips straight.

“No.” Unamused.

“No?” He questions. Their faces matched each other, both blank and void of any honest emotions.

“No.” Madeleine repeats. “You can’t possibly think IVF is a pursuable route for us to obtain an heir.”

“And why might that be?” Liam allows his back to face her sitting form as he pours himself some scotch. He doesn’t let her realise that his brows are furrowed in frustration and disappointment.

He already knows the reason why, and she knows too.

He had only hoped it could be a beneficial option worth considering.

“You already know why.” She ridicules him. “It’s the perfect excuse for gossip to go around the court, public and press.”

Madeleine eyed his unmoving back.

“The reality of the matter isn’t regarding the amount of money we are willing to give,” She presses on, her voice unwavering, “A risk is a risk. Cordonia will not do well with unwarranted gossip of their King and Queen unable to conceive.”

Liam swallows the hard liquor swiftly, the cup settling down on the table louder than he wanted.

Madeleine was not a stupid woman. She holds herself highly as one who is strategically adaptable to her own advantage – or more specifically, advantageous for the sake of Cordonia.

She treats her relationship with Liam like it is a job, and she knows that he does too.

She considers them highly compatible in the sense that they both knew what was at stake, and what needs to be sacrificed for the greater good of the country they both loved.

She keeps her green eyes on his tense shoulders.

There is no sympathy in her features. All that she sees is a simple roadblock that can be easily overcome.

“I hope you’re not planning to go to New York.” She states simply and bluntly.

Liam’s face is emotionless when he turns around to look at her.

How did she know?

“I am not a fool, Liam. Your emotions are all over the place like some commoner’s department store sale.” Madeleine raises a perfect brow at him, “People gossip. The walls have ears. Lady Riley hasn’t been seen at court for over a month and your paperwork has been completed quicker than before.”

She pauses only briefly to gauge his body language. Tense, exhausted, broken.

“I cannot stop you from flying to America but think about what message you’ll be leaving for the press and court when they find out you’ve gone after a commoner who had brought shame on the Beaumont House, let alone on the crown.”

She sees his jaw tighten at her words. She does not particularly care as she knows she speaks the truth, and that he knows.

Liam pours himself another drink. He is quick to swallow the burning liquid, hoping it would numb him completely.

He keeps his distance between them when he turns around to face her. Shoulders squared, chin up, hands clasped tightly behind his back.

He avoids her gaze.

“Have someone tell me the opportune date for each month. I will meet you in your chambers then.”

He swallows thickly as he looks around the room briefly before walking out.

I’m sorry, my love.

. . . . .

The first time Liam sleeps with Madeleine, he is fuelled by the alcohol in his veins.

He refuses to look at her in the most gracious way possible as they let the darkness in the room surround them.

He refuses to kiss, he refuses to caress.

He realises no matter how much alcohol he took in order to numb the pain, it was rendered useless when he had to perform.

So he lets the thoughts and memories of Riley fuel his actions instead.

Liam remembers how Riley’s body would move against his when he kissed her in specific spots.

How she would sigh in pleasure, how she would let his name roll off her lips like it was second nature.

The first time he sleeps with Madeleine, he finds his tears trailing down her back.

He remembers the knot in his stomach and the bile in his throat, threatening its way up as he pushes on with his duty for his country.

He tries with all his might to think of her, and he can almost see, and can almost feel the way she would’ve arched into him when he makes her come.

“Riley… my love… oh, my love…”

When he finishes for the first time, he sits on the edge of Madeleine’s bed with his head in his hands.

He doesn’t look up as she walks off to clean up.

He cries over the guilt of the sin he feels he has committed.

He cries over the missing warmth of her body in his arms.

He misses every inch of her being.

He misses how her hands would cup his face, and how her fingers could just run through his hair and he would feel so relaxed and at ease.

He misses the way she looks at him, eyes full of love and admiration. Full of luck and pride that they had found each other in such a vast world.

Even with all the difficulties they had faced, just looking at her and holding her hand made everything worth it.

His cries are soundless, yet deafeningly loud.

His body aches and yearns for her touch, her presence, her being.

His heart was empty, yet in so much pain.

When Madeleine returns from her bathroom for the first time with her silk dressing gown hugging her curves, she hands over a glass of whiskey, nudging the cool glass against the hand that covers his face.

She looks at him expectantly when he stares at her, his eyes red, lashes heavy from the tears.

He drinks. She fills his glass up, and he drinks some more.

Once his face is dry, he stands up to put his pants back on and to button his dress shirt.

He bows his head slightly, ever gracious, ever regal, as he gives her a quiet apology for his words.

He thanks her for the night before leaving her room.

During these moments, he never looks at her once, never mentions her name.

And Madeleine feels guilt.

Just a little.

. .

Two years pass as their own arrangement continues.

Twelve times each year, once a month, Liam would have to step into Madeleine’s room.

His legs used to feel heavy, a strong sense of self-condemnation forming in his chest with every step that he took.

Now, he feels nothing but an obligation to get it over and done with.

Liam no longer feels the guilt when Riley’s name forces itself off his lips.

The benefits of the arrangement that they had, he thinks to himself with bitter amusement as he sits on the edge of the bed after another night.

Liam watches Madeleine’s figure walk gracefully over to her en suite to clean up.

He takes his cue to leave.

. .

The Queen Mother was not pleased.

The two years that had passed did not do the crown any favours.

With Constantine’s passing in the last year, Cordonia – and even more importantly the crown, needed stability more now than ever.

She seeks for someone, or something, to blame.

Liam finds the royal physician visiting Madeleine and him more often than he would like.

They tell them that it is normal for some to take a while before they are able to conceive.

The physician is met with a pair of unamused eyes when he tells them to ‘perhaps try to allocate more time in your highnesses’ busy schedules in bed?’.

The King nearly breaks the glass of whiskey in his hand out of pent up rage.

When the physician leaves, he almost immediately follows suit.

Green eyes gaze on the King’s retrieving form.

She knows that their arrangement will remain unchanged.

She surprises herself when she looks down at her lap, finding her hands and nails clenched up and digging into some sorry part of the couch.

She blames the weather for the tears in her eyes.

. . . . .

A year and a half later on a bleak and cold day in New York, Riley receives the dreaded phone call from Hana.

“I don’t know if he has messaged you yet,” She remembers the worry in Hana’s voice, the quiet mumbles as her best friend reasons to herself, “But then again you don’t want to talk…”

She remembers her hesitant pause, “Riley… I don’t know when they will notify the press, it’s very early on, and very, very secretive, but… oh Riley, it’s Madeleine. She’s pregnant.”

She finds herself on the tiles of her bathroom again, hurling into the toilet in front of her. This time for different reasons.

She uses the baggy sleeves of her cable-knit sweater to wipe away her tears and at the corner of her mouth.

She has been waiting to receive this news for years, mentally preparing herself and her stomach.

She doesn’t know why she is still so surprised that he actually went through with it.

Perhaps some part of her had been hoping, wishing, praying, that he would never.

She closes her eyes and leans back into the cold glass door of her standing shower, wrapping her arms around herself.

She shudders and finds a shaky breath leaving her lips as she remembers being in his arms.

From time to time, she allows herself to drown in the memories she had with him – she misses the feeling of his lips against her own, how his eyes were always calm but so full of love for her.

She misses how his voice would sound when he embraced her from behind, whispering sweet nothings into her ear.

She misses the lucky mornings they would get to wake up next to each other. How his eyes would gaze over every inch of her face, taking in the love that she showed to him through her gentle kisses and bright smiles.

She feels a body rest beside her, a small face on her lap.

And she forces herself back into her reality – cold on a tiled bathroom floor in a small apartment in New York.

She hugs the now four-year-old closer to her.

“I’m sorry, Levi. I’m just having one of those moments, aren’t I?” She murmurs, absentmindedly twirling some of his hair in her fingers.

His dark eyes does not meet hers for a while, but when it does, she’s relieved to see a small smile on his lips.

The boy doesn’t say anything, as he doesn’t know what, or who had brought the tears into his mother’s eyes. He was dutifully observant and mature for his age and has learnt that simple gestures like his hugs can bring some mirth back into her eyes.

She sees every bit of Liam in him – from the softness of his hair to the shape of his eyes, the way that his small nose stands tall within the frame of his face, to the way his ears sit on his head. She marvels at how he has the shape of Liam’s lips, but her volume – just slightly fuller than his.

And when she stares into her little boy’s eyes, they remind her of his when Liam isn’t weighed down with the duties and troubles of courtly life and country duties.

She sighs once more and kisses his hair.

“Let’s go get some cronuts, my love.”

. .

Surprise hits her like a truck once more the following week.

Riley stares at the face in front of her, her own failing to mask the shock. Her hand never leaves her door handle as she readies herself to close it in the person’s face at any given second she senses danger.

She couldn’t help herself but to quickly look around the corridor of her apartment building, coming to the educated conclusion that the person was most likely travelling alone.

Without him?

She could recognise those features from a mile away.

Those perfectly styled golden curls. The red lips painted with precision, always in a straight line, unamused. Those intense green eyes, staring right into her very soul as if the pair of sunglasses on her face is not even there. That damned string of pearls around her small neck.

“Lady Riley, what a pleasure to see you again.” The lady starts, her voice not matching her words.

Without Liam?

Riley stares for the longest time before remembering to close her mouth.

“Madeleine?”

Part 3: Aletheia

#liam x mc #king liam #the royal romance #choices #playchoices fanfiction #choices: the royal romance #choices: stories you play #king liam of cordonia #joey writes choices #joey writes

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