#hes colorblind the same way we would be colorblind if we went to his world and couldnt tell what color the stoplights were | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gameclam · 1 year

Note

I dont know if this is too vague but Headcanons on Freemind and Barmey that don't have a specific topic? Like Fears or random stuff they did as kids?

Hmm a little vague but I think i can work with it. Freemind's is way longer bc i have more specific headcanons for him

Barmey's misc. Headcanons

Used to be a pageant kid ages like 5-8, was ruthlessly mean to other kids.

Lived in a trailer in a shitty small town in arizona

has a southern accent but hides it bc he was made fun of for it by his best friend when he was like 11 and so he 'socially engineered' a new one, this is why in barney's mind his voice is so much more different than canon barney. he DOES still have it but doesn't use it, his voice is a lot deeper than you'd expect.

Is half Vietnamese and can speak vietnamese but hasn't had much traditional dishes bc his Mom hated cooking and his dad was white and half the time they just gave him stuff that was easy (microwavable/sandwiches/etc) so whenever his ba ngoai was over- which wasn't very often, he refused to eat her food bc he didn't wanna try new things

Because of his lack of trying new things Barmey cannot handle his spice that well. He LIKES spicy food but it hurts him bc he never built up a tolerance.

Barmey has BPD

Autistic + Adhd king

Barmey might seem like an idiot but he's very knowledgeable in certain things; Medical stuff, Geology and identifying rocks/gems, AC repairing, Riddles, Plant Care, and of course Planes

Lowkey psychic but only sometimes

Scared of Moths when they're flying

Lowkey claustrophobic, used to be worse with it though but has since gotten LESS claustrophobic

Decides if he likes and or hates someone purely off vibes alone, whether or not he has ever even talked to him

Has a very bad habit of letting people borrow money from him (Actually canon but i just think it's funny)

His favorite color is purple

He's a 'parkour king' (lie)

Worst liar you've ever seen.

If you dared him to eat a worm he would do it. No matter the age

As soon as a camera is recording he is horribly annoying bc he has to be in the spotlight at all times. kept this trait since childhood

Freemind Random Facts:

The name he almost went with instead of Gordon was Gilbert. In AU's where they all know eachother/live in the same area Freemind will go by Gil, or Freemind if they know they're dopplegangers. The name is inspired by the Gilbert Uranium labs bc he wants one

Scared of cockroaches but the fear manifests into blood lust rage. Would scream if one flew at him though, Is NOT scared of most other bugs But he DOES get jumpscared by spiders sometimes

Maladaptive day dreamer

Has NPD (unaware) and also has OCD and like 100 other things (unaware) Autistic + adhd king (unaware, listen... he's got no idea)

He is INCREDIBLY flexible because he has EDS. He is unaware of this

Has Tritanomaly (Milder form of Tritanopia, basically he's partially colorblind to blue's/greens) He has no idea of this though. This is partly why he wears so much red bc he can see it better

He used to be considered legally blind bc the glasses he can get from regular places do not correct his vision enough. HOWEVER Black Mesa tested out a special type of lens that is not currently available publicly that corrects his vision just enough that he can legally drive and is no longer legally blind. (this is so i dont have to explain why he can drive. we love fictional worlds where i can just make things up)

He's partially deaf in both ears, he is unaware of this because it's not too bad. 99% of this is because of the many times he's shot a gun in a small area with no protection

Is very bad at flirting with women. most of the girlfriends he's had started flirting with HIM first because he has no idea how to talk to girls. When he tries to flirt with girls he is incredibly awkward about it. Is "Better" At flirting with men when he knows he's bisexual. This is only sometimes true

he can force his body into very small locations that by all means he should not fit in. He tried to convince Barmey it's because physicists get super powers when they graduate. Barmey didn't believe this and knew Freemind was trying to trick him but sometimes he wonders...

Is very bad at showing affection. The best ways he knows how to show affection is by being in the same room as you or maybe handing you an item that you enjoy

Another way he accidentally shows affection or respect for someone is when he refuses to let you do something for him he'd normally be ok with anyone ever doing for him

Will convince himself that he could survive ANY scenario you put in front of him. even if it's literally impossible

Is a squirrel man (every place he's ever lived in he puts holes in the walls with intricate pass codes to hide things.) He claims he never forgets where the holes are (lie)

Despite it all he is incredibly soft with animals but especially cats. He feeds the strays. Once he's done being pissed at them he'd probably end up liking the houndeye's

Is an incredibly good chef but doesn't cook very often bc he doesn't want to.

Is unable to feel hungry most of the time, Because of this this moron could go a full week without eating and wouldn't even notice that he's hungry.

has opinions on things that have never happened and will never happen

Is allergic to most dish soap and hates doing the dishes bc he hates how it sounds and feels

Is able to walk and do entire puzzles and hold entire conversations without knowing he's doing anything the entire time because he's in his head so much (canon technically but this extends to normal life as well)

Is terrible at Riddles bc he over thinks them and thinks of them to literally

#long post #freemans mind #freemind #freeman's mind #barney's mind #barneys mind #barmey #not bolding shit this is too long to do that with #headcanons #pile of bones #very long post #sowwy

8 notes · View notes

reasoningdaily · 3 months

Text

Hello friends, non-friends and white people who claim they don’t see color.

I want to give a special shoutout to the “colorblind” white people. Life must be so special for you. How do you even match your clothes on a daily basis? Is your colorblindness related to the racist bone that is not in your body?

These questions need answers, but since we are already here, let’s talk about this idea that we should be a “colorblind” society in America.

You see, there are some white people who will tell you that bringing up race and color is the real issue. They say it’s divisive and only causes more problems. If only we would stop talking about race and color, all the bad things would go away, they say.

That is a lie. The truth is that ignoring race and color means ignoring the injustices that go along with race and color in this country. Declaring yourself “colorblind” means you are also blinding yourself to the inequities and injustices suffered by Black people.

If we sit back and pretend not to see racism, how will it ever be eradicated?

I was reminded of this earlier this week when Jerod Mayo was named the first Black head coach of the New England Patriots in the team’s history.

During a press conference to announce Mayo’s appointment to the role, team owner Robert Kraft made mention of Mayo’s race, but was quick to declare that’s not why he chose him. He said he chose Mayo not because he is Black but because he is the best person for the job.

And while it’s undoubtedly true that Mayo is the best person for the job, we cannot overlook the significance of him being Black. Mayo himself addressed that when it was his turn to speak.

“I do see color,” Mayo said, “because I believe if you don’t see color, you can’t see racism.”

He went on to say that race does matter when you are trying to fix the problem.

The NFL has a race problem. Specifically, the NFL has a problem when it comes to Black head coaches, but I would extend that further and say the NFL has a racist problem when it comes to its Black members period.

Let’s not forget that this is the same sports league that took issue with Black players kneeling during the national anthem as a form of protest against the extrajudicial killing of Black people at the hands of police.

My friend and colleague Michael Harriot did a deep dive into the lack of Black coaches and the way Black coaches don’t get the same opportunities and chances that white coaches do.

In “Black coaches are better: a statistical breakdown of the NFL’s racism,” Harriot wrote:

By every statistical measure, Black coaches in the National Football League have outperformed white coaches.

In 1989, when the Oakland Raiders made Art Shell the first Black head coach in the world’s most profitable, most popular but most undercompensated sport (NFL players share a lower percentage of profits than any other major professional sport), the NFL was already majority-Black. Since then, Black coaches have won at higher rates than white coaches. Black coaches are more experienced, more capable and produce better results. They are more likely than white coaches to lead their teams to the playoffs. However, in the 102-year history of the National Football League, only 20 Black men have been allowed to coach an entire season. I encourage you to read the full article because my friend does an excellent job of breaking down just how egregious the lack of Black head coaches and head coaching opportunities in the league for Black coaches is when you compare the stats.

The NFL released its 2023 Diversity and Inclusion Report in March 2023, and it revealed that between 2012 and 2023, 81% of those hired to be head coaches in the league were white (a total of 62 head coaches) compared to 19% of head coach hires being of color (a total of 15 head coaches, and of those 15 head coaches of color, as of March 2023, only five of them still had head coaching positions.)

All of that is to say that the disparities are stark and real, and this is just looking at football.

Imagine how these disparities look in other aspects of the real world.

The bottom line is simple. If you insist on people not seeing color, then you are insisting that they uphold white supremacy as a means of maintaining the status quo.

People who claim to not see color want to turn a blind eye to the ways that race and color play a role in even the simplest day-to-day living experiences of Black people.

They want to exist in their little bubble that is cushioned and protected by whiteness because that’s safe for them.

They aren’t thinking about the safety of everyone else.

A colorblind society upholds white supremacy, plain and simple.

Anyone who says anything different is lying to themselves and the rest of us, too.

#A ‘colorblind’ society upholds white supremacy

0 notes

literaphobe · 3 years

Note

Two questions:

1. What do you feel about CorpsexSykunno ship?

I feel like it's MarkiplierxJacksepticeye all over again, starts out innocent and turns uncomfortable.

(Also I think real people shipping is gross in general)

2. Dream smp makes me so nervous, not necessarily because of any of the members but due to (1) the history of online teams dominated (and lead) by male influencers, (2) minecraft youtube's general history of exploiting fans. I feel like it's going to end badly. You seem to be enjoying it tho, and it's definitely up my alley, should I get into it?

1. Corpse and Sykkuno are not comfortable being shipped! Neither of them are okay with being shipped with ANY of their friends in general, so like, don’t do it, or if u do like. i guess just don’t say anything about it? it’s really not hard to just enjoy their friendship. like it’s an endearing friendship n there’s nothing wrong w liking it. but. nothing more u know. plus both of them have made it clear on several occasions that they’re both straight and my gaydar agrees JFKDKDK like they’re just. Friends. Who care about each other :)

I definitely think it’s not like the markiplier x jacksepticeye situation, because for one u have jack himself telling people not to ship etc etc and also BECAUSE of that u have people actively policing any form of shipping. it’s honestly gotten to the point where it’s annoying but i genuinely don’t think it’s that big a problem, plus the rising popularity of the amigops puts less pressure on one-on-one corpse + sykkuno interactions, since people now wanna see all four of them play games together n not just corpse n sykkuno!

2. I get why Dream SMP would make u nervous. An interesting thing I realized when I started finding out more about people on that server is that there’s marginally more poc on it than I previously thought and also A LOTTTTT more lgbt+ people than i previously thought. Like genuinely why are so many of u so gay. And like that affects the stories being told obviously. Like. I don’t think it’s perfect n I don’t follow EVERY person on the SMP, just like i obviously don’t know everything about every minecraft YouTuber like fkdkdkdk i would say the only people i watch are dream, george, quackity (and even then i haven’t seen most of quackity’s YouTube videos) and like I’ve seen a couple of tommyinnit’s videos Fjdjdjdj and sapnap obviously but he has like 10 videos and i watch Karl’s streams if certain people are on it. yeah i think that’s about it like i do like the feral boys (dream george karl quackity sapnap) and i have seen maybe one or two skeppy videos

Anyway I get ur concerns about online circles dominated by male influencers too. but quite frankly compared to past circles ive seen its genuinely not that bad and also. In terms of holding them accountable, I think mcyttwt makes VERY sure of that (which honestly has devolved into a problem. because privileged haters will dig up stuff on creators that either a. has been addressed properly or b. is just. several years old and i don’t like how minorities are being weaponized. also i cannot stress how little i care that some minecraft YouTuber said the r slur 10 years ago when they literally never do it now. like. i worry so much because so many of these stans who think they’re ‘educating’ are just wearing themselves out n burning themselves out. so many of them are minors too)

but like. the people i am kept up w definitely do take responsibility and accountability. like dream especially gets accused of stuff that’s either fake/not him or something that’s just like out of this world (e.g. accused of queerbaiting. w george. interestingly no one ever accuses george directly of doing this) and no matter what he like addresses it properly and accordingly. like looking at his journey as a creator over the past year he’s grown a LOT and changed so much and matured a lot and i think like. looking at how much he’s blowing up and how much more of a following he’ll gain. I feel much better that it’s him who has this following as compared to. Certain people. And like. It’s upsetting to see how a lot of people have this impression of him that’s objectively false? Due to all the fake stuff that gets spread by haters (most often white for some reason???)? Because genuinely he’s not the creator we need to be so worried about?

Anyway in terms of getting into mcyts in the dream smp. I knew who Dream was because he’s played among us w the amigops a lot n they all like him because he’s just a good natured amicable person. I vaguely knew who george was because of dnf n also people putting his stupid face on my tl all the time. I thought he was pretty n hated that I thought that. I don’t care anymore tho. Like what’s wrong w looking at pretty people. I deserve it. Anyway! I got into their videos through GEORGE first, funnily. I think Minecraft, But I’m Not Colorblind Anymore was the first one I watched and it’s very very good. It’s endearing because it’s George trying out colorblind glasses for the first time n he’s nervous but Dream is there with him to make him feel more comfortable. And also Dream is so happy n emotional (he talks about tearing up at the thought of George being able to see colors properly) and their friendship is just very endearing. The video starts w george taking a colorblind test and we find out he has protan colorblindness (severity: STRONG which makes them crack jokes about how George is SO strong 😤)

anyway these losers. Decide to test the colorblind glasses on colors in MINECRAFT because of course that’s the whole video and it’s really heartwarming to see George learn how colors look like again n Dream just being excited about it the whole time n then George taking the colorblind test again at the end but with the glasses on... n then u go on to watch more george videos but it’s the ANIMAL CHALLENGES. like George Speedruns Minecraft But His Friend Is (Insert Animal, This Animal Is Always Dream) and like...... yeah so I watched a bunch of George’s videos n I went onto dream’s channel out of curiosity

And i was like. What the fuck. These videos are so WEIRDLY named. What the fuck is Finale, Finale Rematch, Grand Finale???? But dream has adhd too and in hindsight I absolutely would’ve titled the videos in a similarly confusing way. Anyway dreams manhunt videos are...... a work of art. I swear to god like even if u don’t know jackshit about minecraft they are very entertaining and weirdly impressive.

Basically in Minecraft Manhunt: Dream has to beat the game, but his friends are there trying to kill him. If they kill him even ONCE, they win n the video ends. He’s allowed to kill them repeatedly though. Manhunt started with one hunter (George, to one’s surprise), then two hunters (Sapnap and George), three (Sapnap, George, BadBoyHalo), and now four (Sapnap, George, BadBoyHalo, Antfrost). The next stage is possibly 5 hunters but idk who is the fifth yet. Anyway the thing that’s so entertaining about minecraft manhunt is:

1) Dream’s Parkour & PVP skills, which he developed and trained over such a short period of time n got REALLY good, it’s satisfying to watch him do risky maneuvers n succeed, the ways he’ll jump from a high place but clutch w either water, blocks, horses, boats, scaffolding, etc, to escape from the hunters

2) Dream’s TRAPS, like he actually does research for possible plans n traps he could do to counter the hunters, since there’s so many of them and only one of him, and he can’t just fight them in combat exclusively, since he’ll lose eventually if he gets ganged up on. I won’t spoil any of his traps, but they’re very good and also very dramatic. It’s amazing

3) The banter and taunting!! The lies and tricks!! They’re all really close so it’s easy for them to crack jokes during a lull where neither party is engaged in a fight, they’re all on the same VC so they can potentially say stuff to trick each other, or they can hear the other team say stuff that gives them an edge

4) The editing. Like the pacing is incredible, and all the bgm used is SO good at setting the atmosphere n making things more tense n exciting etc. like “dream’s manhunt music” is honestly a meme at this point but he actually unironically uses it and it unironically makes the videos better. Also dream edits all the manhunt videos by himself!! he doesn’t hire editors to do it for him or anything

idk what else to say but yeah I watch most of dream n george’s YouTube videos and they’re in most of each other’s videos and I like their dynamic a lot!! Especially since they still have not met in real life but already know they want to like live together (forever, according to George), and it like reminds me of the friendships I have because most of my close friendships have been made online. And like. They remind me that online friendships aren’t actually inferior. That’s it :) sorry this is so long

#ask #mcyt #dnf #dream smp #amigops #corpse husband #sykkuno #dreamnotfound #georgenotfound #dreamwastaken #sorry so sorry I just #never have that many ppportunies to talk about this #n I realized I had the energy to answer this ask apparently #fjdjdjdjd #askplus

104 notes · View notes

tooruluv · 3 years

Text

Kei Tsukishima x F!Reader ( part 7 ) [ final ]

❝ they were the sun and moon, destined to be together but only ever totally meeting once every hundred years or so. ❞

description: in a world where you only see color when you're in love, you've grown frustrated of the greyscale. but falling in love with someone you barely know was never something you planned. and, him not returning the feelings definitely wasn’t planned.

genre: soulmate au... except not quite. everyone is born colorblind. you can only see color once you fall in love (and it grows brighter until you see full color as the love grows). however, that doesn't ensure a lasting connection. it simply means that love exists in that moment, until it doesn't.

word count: 1,879

warnings/notes: that’s all folks!! thank you all for reading and leaving feedback on this one <3 it was my first time writing a soulmate au so i hope it was okay for the most part fsjklhalfkh anyway! enjoy and please leave feedback <3

prev | masterlist

“ if you could only see how blue her eyes could be.. ” - if you could only see, tonic

┏━━━━━⋇⋆⋆⋇❦⋇⋆⋆⋇━━━━━┓

You decided to keep your distance. You couldn’t be his friend when your heart continued to be shattered at a measly “no”.

As he walked you home in silence that night, you considered a thousand different ways to get rid of the colors. To get rid of the love you had for him.

It was incredibly toxic, you thought, to continue to be friends with a boy your heart pined for.

You still volunteered with the Karasuno team. It was a bit strange, though, because you would do your best to either stay behind with Hinata and Kageyama, or you would leave with Ukai. Anything to get you out of walking with Tsukki and Yamaguchi.

Hinata was the first one to notice that things weren’t the same (always the observant one).

“Did something happen with you and Tsukki?” He asked you after practice as the both of you cleaned up the last of the volleyballs.

“I can see color, and he can’t.” You confided.

“We knew that.”

You chuckled, considering if you should tell him. In the end, you figured “what’s the harm?”, so you said, “We kissed. And even after that, he still couldn’t see color.”

He audibly gasped. “Oh. I’m so sorry.”

“It is not your place to be sorry.” You fluffed his hair. “Are you all done for the night?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Staying away from Tsukishima was harder than you anticipated.

He was in your class, he had lunch the same time, he was on the team you voluntarily helped with. Everywhere you went, he seemed to be there.

“Do you really think the colors will finally go away?” Haru asked you.

You three were sitting at a picnic table at lunch. It had been almost a week of avoiding the boy and the colors were still as vibrant as ever. You figured falling out of love would be harder than falling into it.

“I hope so.”

At the same time, Tsukki and Yamaguchi walked by. They both looked your direction, and you only exchanged a small look with Yamaguchi.

“They miss you.”

“I know.” You returned to your food, no longer hungry. “I miss them, too.”

One day at Blu, Tsukishima had come in with only sweatpants and a hoodie on. He seemingly just woke up and rushed out without thinking much of it.

You thought he looked handsome no matter his attire.

“What can I get for you today, Kei?” You asked in your usual customer service voice.

He didn’t glance at you as he ordered his usual black coffee.

You were about to punch it into the register when he added, “And a blueberry muffin.”

“I heard that blueberry muffins are actually purple.” You offered as conversation. Not that you knew what either of the colors looked like.

“That’s stupid.” was his reply.

After a month of avoiding the boy, you were growing frustrated. The colors hadn’t even dimmed, let alone left. They were still bright and loud.

It was like a taunt every time you woke up.

You shoved an (obnoxious) bright yellow shirt on as you cleaned your room. It was an old softball practice shirt that you found in the bottom of your drawer. You had no idea back then how incredibly bright a lot of your clothes were. Why did your mother let you leave the house?

It was a weekend, and you figured that cleaning your space would also help in clearing your mind. Putting on the shirt was your way of saying “fuck you” to the colors.

As you blasted music, a knock on your door interrupted.

“What did you do to her?” Yamaguchi asked Tsukishima the day after the kiss.

“What do you mean?”

“You did something to her.” He crossed his arms. “What did you do? She won’t talk to either of us, like I have some part of whatever fucked up shit you did.”

“I…” Tsukishima pushed up his glasses. “I kissed her. Well. We kissed.”

Yamaguchi nodded, thoughts processing. “Then you rejected her again right after, didn’t you?”

“Am I supposed to lie?”

“Yes.” He shrugged. “But you’ve been doing that a lot, huh?”

The knocking on your door persisted, and you eventually gave in and answered.

With a hard swing of the door, you sighed, very irritated, “What?”

Kei Tsukishima stood in front of you, hand still above your head in an attempt to knock again. His eyes made contact with yours. Those golden fucking eyes.

“You’re avoiding me.”

“No shit.”

“Why?”

“Why?” You scoffed incredulously. “You’re kidding, right? Why am I avoiding you?”

“Yeah.” Tsukki seemed sincerely confused as he shoved his hands back into his pockets. “What did I do?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. You shook your head, looking away from his eyes.

He said, “It isn’t like I’ve lied to you.”

“That’s true. You’ve been brutally honest.”

“Then.. why are you avoiding me?” Tsukki tried to catch your eyes again.

“Because every second with you hurts, Tsukki.” Your frustration echoed in your voice. “Every second that I spend with you is a painful reminder that you don’t and won’t feel the same way about me that I feel for you. And you constantly remind me of that little detail.”

Without a moment of hesitation he said, “Telling you that I don’t love you back should help you. I don’t see what your issue is.”

“You don’t see what my issue is?” You put your hand back on the doorknob. “How’s this: my issue is you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m done, Tsukki.” You met his gaze. “I’m done. I tried to be your friend, I tried to get rid of the stupid colors. But everything I do only makes them worse. And you consistently telling me that you don’t see the same that I do and always being an avid reminder that you don’t love me back… it sucks. And I can’t do it anymore. It’s draining.”

“So you’re going to… what exactly?” His voice got louder. Angrier. “Just forget that I exist and never talk to me, or Yamaguchi, or the team again?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, clearly still pissed off. “That’s the plan.”

You were pissed that he came to your house a month after you stopped talking to him. You were pissed that all of this started with your stupid part time job. You were pissed that he was standing in front of you looking fine as hell. You were pissed that you still saw colors with every waking moment.

You were pissed that you fell into an unrequited love.

“You can’t just…”

“But I can.”

“No, you can’t!” His voice got louder. You could raise your voice, too.

“Yes, I fucking can, Kei.” You told him. “You don’t know how many times that I’ve tried to get rid of these stupid fucking colors. I’m so over looking like an idiot because of the one person who…”

“Can you shut the fuck up for just a second, I can’t even pay attention to what you’re saying with that bright ass yellow shirt you have on.” Tsukki interrupted, grimacing as he looked away.

The entire world froze around you. He seemed to figure out what he said far too late, closing his eyes. Your heart seized in your chest and you felt as though you just got the wind knocked out of you.

“Wh.. what did you just say?” Your eye twitched.

“Hm?” Tsukki turned to you, pretending to be oblivious.

“What did you just say, Tsukki?” You felt tears arriving, but you were forcing yourself to stare at him. “How long have you… How long have you been able to see color?”

“Since I ordered my first black coffee.” He stated. As if it was nothing.

As if it didn’t matter.

“You…” You let the tears free fall down your cheeks. But you laughed. “You could see color this entire time?”

“Just listen…”

“No! No.” You took a step back, putting distance between you and the cause of your heartache. “You just claimed to have never lied to me, yet you’ve been lying to me this entire fucking time.”

He started to say something, perhaps explain himself. But you could barely breathe.

If your heart hadn’t been damaged enough by his constant rejections and painful “no”s, it was completely shattered now.

“You let me believe this entire time that you didn’t feel the same way about me.” You could taste your tears, but ignored it. “For nearly a fucking year, you watched me go through hell. You let me ruin my own heart and let me become frustrated with my own fucking life. You kissed me and then told me that you didn’t love me. You…”

“I love you.” He interrupted, trying to get you to stop yelling.

It was the first time he had said it, and it had slipped past his tongue as if he had been meaning to say it for months.

“I guess it’s a bit late for that.”

You watched as the colors drained from the world. Your focus turned back to the greyscale as if a vacuum sucked every single color that had existed.

The last color you watched dissipate was the gold in his eyes.

fin.

tag list: @vhskenma @elianetsantana @mini-eggs-reads @ysasian @hhwanggu @i-stole-your-juice-box @definitelynotbianca @denkithunder @smuttyanimeslut @yourlocalbabybird @theydy-madamonsieur @expiredbananamilk @sunandtsukki @babyoomi @alwaysbeanunknownfan

274 notes · View notes

milliedazzledust · 3 years

Text

An Abundance of Love (Nick Scratch imagine)

Request from anon: Nick x reader, where it’s all just soft shit. Nick is reading a book aloud to the reader, his head in their lap. They’re running their hand through his hair, before interrupting his reading with kisses. Maybe declarations of love that fluster him cause it’s out of nowhere

Words: 1408

A/N: The quotes are actually real and come from one of my favorite book, « An Abundance of Katherine’s » by John Green. If you have any Nick Scratch request, don’t hesitate to send them in !

It was in the early lights of a quiet morning. The Academy had not yet woken up and snuggled in one of the room were two lovers, enjoying their time alone, away from the noises of witchery troubles. There, on the bed, two souls in complete serenity. One of them was sitting against the bedhead, the other was laying on her lap, a book between his hands. The sun was starting to shine through the blinds, its vibrant golden color reflecting on them, bringing just enough light to be able to read.

”He remained convinced that romantic behavior was basically monotonous and predictable, and that therefore one could write a fairly straightforward formula that would predict the collision course of any two people. But he was worried that he might not be enough of a genius to make the connections“ He spoke, his voice the only sound breaking the silence.

The girl beside him was smiling, listening in a bath of peacefulness and utter contentment. Absorbed by his words, her eyes were closed. They had countless memories together, of shenanigans and battles they fought, which she would never be able to forget. But this was different, this was what she called memories moments of true happiness. Moments when her mind completely let go of all worries and problems and replaced them with a feeling of complete love for him. The simplest moments were building her strongest and most beautiful souvenirs, just as it did for him.

As he continued to read, she tenderly stroked his hair. Her eyes still shut, her smile still big, her fingers were running through his curls. The man made no move to stop her, instead took a second to take in a happy sigh before getting back to reading, a smile of his own on his face.

“This is almost too nice to be true” She said in a whisper, as if the sound of her own voice would be enough to make their moment disappear.

“What is ?” He asked, putting the open book on his chest and looking back at her.

“You and me, here, without any monsters to fight”

“Without the world ending” He added, joking.

She smirked.

“I keep on expecting someone to burst through my door to get us somewhere, to fight someone or something”

“Not today” He reassured her. “Besides, it’s too early.”

He took one her hand, bringing it to his lips and kissed it softly.

“This is the first time in forever that we get to have time together, Y/N” He continued. “Enjoy it, because the world won’t stay so quiet forever”

“Maybe we should give up our powers and become mortals” She joked.

He winced at the suggestion, making her laugh.

“Like hell we are”

They look back at each other, one of her hand still clasped with his, the other stroking his hair. No works were spoken for a while. Silent electricity passed on through their gaze was enough to make her heart beat faster, fingertips like matches grazing her wrist with flame. An entire ocean of ink wouldn’t be enough to write down was they felt for each other. They were a starburst of light amongst the darkening dusk, all the stars in the sky condensed into a single point, a single stare they shared. Their love was everywhere; in the way their gazes lingered on one another, the way their voices became softer and in the shy grins they’d never worn before. In the conversation spoke in silence like this one.

Slowly, softly, she leaned down and kissed his lips. A million loving thoughts condensed into a moment.

“What was that for ?” He asked, his fingers running down her cheek.

She shrugged.

“I’m just ….” She started. “I’m happy. You make me happy”

He smirked, her confession bringing a new lightness to his heart.

“Just happy ?” He joked.

“What is more than happy ?” She wondered. “Because I feel like if I find a word stronger than that I’m gonna jinx it”

“Sometimes I wonder how you can be a witch and be so superstitious at the same time”

She rolled her eyes.

“Doesn’t it feels weird to you sometimes ?” She said seriously, diverting the conversation.

“What ?”

“This connection between us”

He sighed, moving to get more comfortable on her lap.

“I’ll admit that sometimes it scares me”

“Really ? Why ?”

“You’re giving me so much power over you” He started, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I guess … I’m scared of hurting you. I feel so lucky to have you, but sometimes I can’t help but wonder if this is real, if I’ve not just … bewitched you”

“Some call it bewitched” She told him. “I prefer to call it love”

“How do you know it’s love ?”

She pondered a minute, taking her time to answer his question.

“When I think of being alone, and I mean without you, I feel empty. Like a world without color. And when I’m with you, like right now, I’m no longer colorblind. I feel wiser, calm, at peace. I look at you, and I see my home. You know that warm bed you can’t get out of in the morning, that sensation of peace on a cozy, rainy Sunday, that place where people can drive you absolutely crazy one minute and make you feel like a precious treasure the next, this isn’t a place for me. It’s you”

She looked back at him in time to see him trying to hide his glossy eyes, warm with an emotion he knew he only felt for her.

“Nick, if what we have isn’t magic, then I cannot say what is” She muttered.

Suddenly, without warning, he threw the book aside, took her hands, and pushed her, making her fall on his chest. She laughed and he closed his eyes for a second, hoping he could memorize that sound, put it in a crystal glass in his mind and protect it forever. Then he stroked her cheeks affectionately before brushing a piece of hair, tucking it behind her ear. His hand stayed there, locked in her hair, his thumb stroking her skin softly. They could’ve remained in the same position forever, but like a magnet, he lifted her chin and brought her face closer and closer, their eyes glued to one another. With a silent statement, he sealed their lips together.

All he could focus on was how soft she felt against his mouth, how addictively she invaded all his senses. There was a raw emotion in the way his fingers cupped her head and he swore his heart skipped a beat when he felt her hands on his naked chest.

“If I remember correctly, you were supposed to read to me, Scratch” She whispered, her lips inches away from his.

He laughed, stealing yet another kiss from her.

“You’re too distracting, Y/L/N”

She glared back, rolling her eyes.

“Hm, excuse me sir but I’m not the one without a shirt on”

He sat up with his girlfriend still in his arms and grabbed the piece of clothing he had previously folded on a nearby chair.

“I can put it back on” He offered.

Before he could make another move, she took the shirt from his hands and threw it in a corner of her room.

“Don’t you dare” She answered with a wicked smile, making him chuckle.

She reached out behind him, taking the book he had disregarded earlier.

“Read to me ?” She requested with a cute voice he couldn’t resist.

He checked the clock on the bedside, making sure they still had time before class.

“C’mon” He conceded.

He let her go and waited until she was comfortably seated to get back to his initial position. His head on her lap, one of her hand in his hair, the other resting on his chest, he took the book back, turning the pages.

“Ready ?” He asked, taking a quick look at her.

“Always”

“Don’t distract me this time” He smirked.

“I can’t promise anything” She giggled.

Grinning, he started to read where he had left the story off. Once again she closed her eyes, letting her head fall back to enjoy the few last minutes they’ll have before getting back to reality, witchcraft and worlds colliding.

“Here’s to all the places we went. And all the places we’ll go. And here’s to me, whispering again and again and again and again… “

“I love you” She finished the quote.

#sabrina spellman #chilling adventures of sabrina #nick scratch #nick scratch x reader #nick scratch imagines #nick scratch imagine #nick scratch fanfiction #nicholas scratch #nicholas scratch x reader #nicholas scratch imagine #nicholas scratch images #gavin leatherwood #gavin leatherwood imagine

350 notes · View notes

heyitsyn · 4 years

Text

,,,,OK Kurat

Soulmate!Bokuto

a/n: when bokuto refuses to fix his roots and let the gray dye grow out and it slightly irritates you

colorblind soulmate where you lose your colors and only gain them back when your other half starts to have feelings for you

requests are open!!

so, leggo?

ever since you turned 16, you’ve literally gone colorblind

like you were perfectly happy seeing the colors of the world

from daichi’s red sweater

to hinata’s orange hair

you were ROBBED of the colors of the world

when you woke up that morning, you knew you would get your soulmate sign soon and you were sure it would happen while you were in class as it would start the exact time you were born 16 years ago

so there you were, happily eating with nishi and tanaka at the roof

‘hey, y/n-chan, look at this manga i found!’

you look up at noya and you almost choked on your rice ball when you couldn’t see his blonde streak anymore

it was like the moment you blinked, it was gone

he must’ve noticed your surprised look because noya touched the front floof since you were staring right at it

tanaka had his mouth opened and patted your back when you coughed

‘ah, it happened now?’

then you just start bawling

‘i cANt sEE yOuR hAiR anYmoRE!! aNd hiNATa’s hAiR! aND tHE oRANgE uniFOrMS!’

they understand it was a touchy subject for you since you were expecting something cute like noya’s thought sharing sign or tanaka’s taste sharing sign

but NO!!!

‘it’s okay y/n-chan. you’ll meet them soon and you’ll get your colors back’

from then on, all you’ve done is research all you can about soulmate signs and how they worked

yours happens to be a rarer one and you groaned bc of course it would happen to YOU

it states that usually, the moment you lock eyes with your soulmate, you’d get your lost sense back

but you wouldnt know when it would exactly happen and be like your uncle who is nearly 40 and still cant smell anything

whats worse, there were even cases where you wouldnt get them back in one sight but gain them when they start to have romantic feelings for you

you really do hope you’d get the easier

being a part-time manager, you often helped the vbc if you were free from your other clubs so you sometimes help kiyoko with the kids

entering the gym, you frowned when you saw hinata and the gray tone of his hair

everything was gray but colors that are light like yellow or bright orange, were lighter gray while darker ones were dark gray or black

seems like tanaka and noya told the team what happened because daichi went up to you and ruffled your hair before saying it’ll be okay

‘give it time! you will find them!’

yacchi, a manager-in-training, enthusiastically told you about her ideas for the poster and gave you her rough draft, explaining the little details

but you were out of it as you just roamed your eyes over the gray-colored paper

thus causing her to freak out

‘OH MY GOD! I”M SO SORRY Y/N-SAN! I FORGOT ABOUT IT!! I’M SO SORRY!’

(yacchi is just a little precious bun, please protec her :’))

but you ruffled her hair and put on a smile

‘don’t sweat it, yacchi’

after that whole thing about announcement of the tokyo training camp and the hinata/kageyama idiot squad

you guys were in the bus, getting ready for Tokyo

it’s also been weeks since you lost it so you were still new but you were starting to get used to it

ofc you still had mistakes like their different colored practice jerseys and who was in what team or wearing different colored socks

but you were slowly adapting

it was a few hours of a drive so everyone was static to get out of the cramp bus and use the bathroom and stretch their legs

you took your time and put the others trash into a plastic bag bc youre just a great manager like that

getting out of the bus, you heard a horrendous and terrifying laugh and saw the nekoma captain hunching over in laughter

‘my god. at least his face makes up for it’

you got a text from hinata and kageyama saying that they were going to take their exams now and you sent them a little encouraging blurb

the guy from nekoma with the mohawk gawked at the 3 managers and you remembered him having that blonde hair dye

when you and the rest entered their gym, all you saw were balls flying everywhere and lots of people

your eyes scanned for at least someone to make eye contact with you because this gym has a lot of people in it and there could be a possibility they were in here

like 0.000003% probably but still a chance

from the managers to the players, not one reactivated the colors

‘hm,,, i think my soulmate is in here’

noya’s little comment made you glare at him in envy and he grinned with a peace sign

you noticed that boy kenma with his haircut and there was someone sitting near him that made you turn to the others

‘okay, either i just have terrible memory but is that a new guy?’

suga wondered the same thing and you flinched at the kid’s harsh stare at you all

there was a light gray tone to his hair and eyes so you were curious what color they were

‘his legs look a little long. i think he’s taller than most of these guys’

asahi said which made you give him a look

‘listen, as long as we got tsukki-kun, we’re okay’

the first match was against some powerhouse called fukurodani and they had a few interesting players

by interesting, you meant looks wise

that one guy looked freaking pretty with his sharp eyes while the other guy, who you assumed to be the captain, had round eyes and spiked hair

you were pretty sure that he had different colored hair due to the mix of black and light tones

AND THE WAY IT WAS STYLED THO

its like he got electrocuted and his hair just stayed the same

you were too busy looking at the 2 teams that you completely missed karasuno’s defeat and just saw them doing flying receives

the others gathered to the side and the next game was against fukurodani and nekoma

from hearing the names being said, that pretty guy was akashi or aggghasshi and the owl looking dude was bokuto-san or bokutosang or something bokuto bc youre not exactly sure

and then he be flying

‘he REALLY flying!’

you exclaim and tbh what can you expect from being one of the top 5 aces in the country

then the ball straight flew towards your own player and you and yamagucci screamed for his name

everyone flinched when the ball hit his hand and you ran over to check

‘ouch’

you hear that loud voice of his on top of kei’s hiss and you growled

‘HEY HEY HEY’

he didnt even apologize and if it wasnt for tanaka and daichi holding you back, you were about to scream into the guys ear for damaging your player’s hand since he needed it to block properly

‘LET ME GO! WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS INJUR-’

suga smiled and raised a hand apologetically your shouts caught the attention of others

the more games karasuno played, the more they lost

you went to fill up their water bottles and was mumbling to yourself, blaming that freak haired guy for tsukki’s pained blocks

‘didnt even apologize. how dare he hurt my boy’

bokuto was going for a drink when he heard your mumbles by the water fountain

he noticed you as the karasuno manager and poked you in the shoulder

‘ah! youre the manager!’

cue you looking to glare at him since you could recognize that voice anywhere

‘and you are?’

taken aback with your tone, he grinned

‘bokuto. bokuto koutarou’

‘ah’

then you went back to filling up the bottles

he fiddled with his towel before poking you again

‘um,,, i want to apologize for earlier. sorry about that spike’

you stopped and you nodded

‘i appreciate the apology, bokuto-san. but you should say it to him’

bo guessed that you were kinda their mother hen and you looked after the players of your team

‘are you,,, a third year?’

closing the lid of the last bottle, you placed it on the basket

‘second’

his eyes widened before shouting

‘im your senpai!’

you jumped at the sudden volume of his voice and awkwardly smiled

‘ah. okay, bokuto-san’

his eyes widened before patting your shoulder gently

‘drop the -san! i prefer being called senpai!’

does this guy have a senpai kink or something

but there was probably nothing wrong with calling him senpai right?

‘okay, bokuto-senpai’

you were lowkey kinda iffy since you dont really call anyone senpai, everyone was -san to you

bo laughed loudly and ruffled your hair

‘WAH!!!!!! MY LITTLE KOUHAI!!!’

‘bokuto-san!’

your head looked up and you saw the pretty guy walking towards you

he bowed in front of you in both greeting and apology

‘sorry about him. he gets a little excited sometimes. im akaashi keiji by the way’

you waved it off and smiled gently

‘nice to meet you, akaashi-san. and dont worry, i have two people like him in my team’

hinata and noya

‘come on. the next game is about to start’

he tugged bokuto’s arm and bo waved at you before walking away

‘see ya!’

but stopped

‘ah! i didnt get your name!’

‘y/n. l/n y/n’

‘see ya later y/n!’

when you came back, the boys were still doing flying and you glanced at your watch, knowing that your boys should be coming soon

you and yacchi were visibly listening to the other players talking about your team and kiyoko gave you both a look to settle down

‘hold it in, girls’

the sea of different tones of gray were currently making you dizzy with so many things happening at ones and you completely missed the door opening, revealing tanaka’s sister

noya’s excited shout made you turn and you waved excitedly

you’ve met her once when you went over to help tutor her poor brother and noya who practically lives at their house

everyone stopped what they were doing and saw the two boys huffing by the door

you heard kuroo’s comment but you were too excited to see them come back in one piece

‘ah, so those are the legendary first years’

hm, if only you knew why they were late

bo saw you with wide eyes and excitedly bouncing at the sidelines as karasuno started to play

‘what are you looking at bokuto-san?’

akaashi asked

bo thought you were interesting the moment he heard you angrily mumble about him and he thought your pouting face was cute

‘i wonder what her soulmate mark is’

akaashi knew about his soulmate sign since he received a very frantic phone call that sunday afternoon of bokuto not being able to see the color of his apple anymore

‘she probably doesnt have it yet’

akaashi’s answer made his brows furrow

‘she’s a second year so shes probably 16 already’

‘why would it matter to you anyways?’

yea, why did it matter?

‘just general curiosity. shes quite fiesty. i like her. i want to be friends’

akaashi sighs and pats his back

‘i support you, bokuto-san’

shoot this might as well be a bokuaka

he saw you run to the two first years and took their bags for them, ruffling their hair each

even though you’re only like a some months older than hinata, you still treat him like a babie

‘coach left some buns from earlier so you can eat that before you play. oh! i also got you your milk, kags!’

bo literally could feel your happiness radiating and he saw your eyes

too bad he couldn’t see the color of them

although the boys team was finally complete, they still lost quite a lot of sets

and they were trying so hard and you were just cheering on the sidelines w yacchi and kiyoko

you kept running back and forth from the drinking fountain since the boys kept drinking so much water

and bo just finds you there again

for the second time today

‘oh? back again, y/n-chan?’

you could recognized that gruffy voice anywhere

you turned and gave him a tight smile

‘ah. hello bokuto-san’

he pouted and nudged you with a finger to your shoulder

‘senpai! call me senpai!’

you were pretty sure he was 18 yet he still threw a tantrum

what kinda-

‘okay okay. sorry, bokuto-senpai’

then like a switch his pouts became grins and you got dizzy with the sudden mood switch

‘youre such a diligent manager, y/n-chan. you should transfer to our school and be one of ours instead!’

then you remember meeting the 2 managers they had

‘ah, you already have 2 so i think you’re covered’

bo whined at that

‘but karasuno also has 2 without you!’

tbh you shouldve been uncomfortable in this situation bc here you have a grown man whining

but you found his pout endearing and his eyes were loony-looking

‘not to hurt your feelings, bokuto-senpai, but we just met and i don’t know you all that well’

‘then you know the solution to that, don’t you?’

you just stared at him

‘lets get to know each other! lets be friends! lets be close!’

you couldnt say anything else since you were kinda in a pickle here so you just nodded

‘um, okay’

‘bokuto-san!’

that voice made you perk up and you raised a hand

‘akaashi-san!’

bo saw your smile and he pouted, jealous that you didnt give that smile when you saw him

‘ah, l/n-san.’

you looked at bo and his eyes grew even bigger and you resisted the urge to pinch his cheeks with how they puffed out with his pout

woah wait huh

why did you just think of that

akaashi had to bring back bo to the gym for their match but bo refused to walk

‘no! not until y/n-chan wants to be my friend!’

what are you

but you nodded, placing a hand around his bicep

you froze, trying to contain the shock of how S T R O N G they felt

ohmygad

‘l-lets get to know each other later, bokuto-sa-senpai’

you hurriedly corrected yourself and breathed a sigh of relief when he didnt notice

a big smile got to his face and he pointed at you

‘ill win this for you y/n-chan!’

you sweatdropped bc wow this manz is winning a game for you

no-for your friendship

he excitedly ran back down the hallway and disappeared with a faint ‘hey hey hey!’

you and akaashi shared a look and he apologized

‘im sorry if he made you uncomfortable’

‘nah nah, its okay’

‘and thanks for uplifting him. he was in a mood when he left bc we lost a set but now he’s energized thanks to you’

a,,, mood?

‘is he,,, i dont know,,,, bipolar?’

akaashi stood for a second before shrugging

‘i guess you could say that. the team tries to uplift him bc if hes in a mood he messes up’

a sound of recognition left your lips before you nodded

‘ah okay’

‘well, i guess im seeing you later then, l/n-san?’

‘oh, please. call me y/n. we’re the same age!’

but he gave you a mysterious smile

‘i dont think bokuto-san would like that’

so the remaining of the time there, bo was practically stuck to you as he followed you everywhere

babie calls it ‘friendship bonding’

when yall were leaving, he was pouting so hard and you gave in to your urges

;)

you pinched his cheeks

‘until next time, bo-senpai’

blew a fuse right then and there

bO-sENPai

yall remained in contact and you even went up to visit him and just hang out

you were lowkey catching feelings

like when he sent you that mirror picture of him and kuroo being sassy in a department store and your heart started beating really really fast

then your palms started sweating as you remembered the feeling of his warm hands on yours when he led you through the busy sidewalk of tokyo

‘siri, am i having a stroke?’

but you were like ‘nuh-uh, must remain pure for my soulmate’

however

if you have those feelings already and it’s towards your soulmate, that gave bo his sight of colors

just sitting there w his team eating yakisoba bun then he looked at akaashi and saw his friend’s blue eyes again

can you tell im a bokuaka simp

in another life flashbacks

n e ways

he was so happy and ecstatic and was about to call you but akaashi was like, ‘wait, i think she might be your soulmate’

the entire team was just like, ‘what’

and bo just sitting there, ‘omg what if’

akaashi,

grandmaster plan creator

tells bokuto to hold off from telling you until the next time yall see each other which is in the training camp

for story’s sake, training camp finally rolls around

you cannot stop squirming in your seat bc ya finally get to see bo again after so long

kuroo greets yall at the front and hes familiar w you since you hung out w the tokyo squad

‘you have a surprise little chibi’

you were just like, ‘,,,,ok kurat’

meanwhi;e,,

bo was so antsy and he was just like, ‘yey! i get to see her again!’

ngl, bo thought you were really pretty and cute and he thinks he has a crush on you but not like head-over-heels like you were

literally cannot stand still and the team was tired of having to keep him from running so akaashi just let him go

‘but dont run her over, bokuto-san’

he sonic bolts over

nYOOM

he finally sees that tangerine hinata and was searching for your hair color and when he sees you laughing at kuroo’s face, his eyes widened

his heart beat started beating really really fast and everything in his brain and all the words he wanted to say died down

he never really saw your face with colors but he just stares in awe at your beautiful skin color, breathtaking eyes, silky hair, and those plump lips

sweat started to gather at his palms and his feet started moving on its own until he just scoops you in his arms, lifting you off the ground in the process

w you, there was a silence

‘your eyes,,,,, theyre beautiful’

bo just grins at the crack of your voice and tears just wells up in your eyes w a smile

‘bo!’

you shouted and you wrapped your legs around his waist while he burrows his head in your neck

‘you’re so beautiful. oh my god, you’re so beautiful’

omg what i would do for bo to say that to me

obvs, the others knew what was happening

dai and suga were already planning on the talk

kuroo just recording the whole thing

‘im falling in love with you. i want to fall in love with you over and over again until i die. i want to feel like this forever. can i?’

just forgets about everyone and being in your own bubble and your own world as bokuto just professes his love for you

‘stupid question, koutaro!’

you giggled and he finally allowed you to stand on your own two feet

‘let me love you for eternity’

cue waterworks from noya and tanaka and konoha

‘but baby, we need to touch up your roots, though.’

‘we got forever, soulmate’

sorry if this was trash

#bokuto x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu bokuto x reader #haikyuu bokuto koutaro x reader #bokuto koutaro x reader #bokuto headcanons #bokutou x reader #bokuto soulmate #haikyuu soulmate #haikyuu fluff #bokuto koutaro #fukurodani #bokuto imagines #haikyuu imagines #bokuto scenarios #haikyuu scenarios

533 notes · View notes

autisticshadowthehedgehog · 4 years

Text

Sonic X Theory: the other Ultimate Lifeforms

In Sonic X’s adaptation of Sonic Adventure 2, they make an interesting claim about the Ultimate Lifeform prototypes on the ARK. When Rouge hacks into the base, she informs Shadow of one thing- he wasn’t the only prototype from Project Shadow that escaped the ARK massacre.

[ID: screenshots from Sonic X: one of Rouge looking up Project Shadow, surprised and reading “Shadow? Secure and dispose?” Another shot of two escape pods falling towards a planet, with the caption from a GUN soldier: “Our mission ended when we sealed away the prototype of the ultimate lifeform.” End ID.]

Rouge makes the claim that neither of these escape pods was Shadow... so in X Canon, is Shadow even who he thinks he is? And just as importantly... who are the other prototypes?

Full theory under the cut.

So first off. Let’s look at Rouge’s claim that Shadow isn’t who he thinks he is.

Part One: Is Shadow from the ARK?

[ID: screenshots from Sonic X of Rouge and Shadow talking, with the following dialogue:

Rouge: This is the progress report for Project Shadow, a plan to create the ultimate life form. The body they created is still held there.

Shadow: I know. That’s a prototype. I’m the Ultimate Lifeform they created afterwards-

Rouge: Two capsules were ejected when the ARK was shut down. But neither was found. They couldn’t lock up in prison what they couldn’t find. Do you understand? I wonder who you really are.

Shadow looks troubled. End ID.]

So two capsules were ejected and neither was found in the fifty years it’s been since the accident-- except I think Rouge is wrong about one thing. Shadow is who he thinks he is- because his capsule was sent out alone. It must have somehow not been logged.

How do we know this? Shadow’s flashback of being sent away and the man who worked for GUN are completely different- first of all, the GUN soldier doesn’t remember her saying anything to Shadow, or Shadow even being there- it seems that she died to send away something or someone else. Second- Maria is in a different position around the lever in both flashbacks. See the GUN soldier’s first--

Though we don’t see the full room, we get the sense that it’s small from the other shots that I don’t have the time to screenshot. She’s around an elevated platform not attached to a wall, and either facing the pod she’s sending away or in a completely different room.

But, both of Shadow’s alternate memories of Maria sending him away-- the first one more stylized, the second one we can assume more real-- neither looks like this.

In both, she’s in a differing position. In the sepia flashback, she’s not facing him, and pulling a lever attached to a wall. In the second flashback, she’s already on the floor, and the lever pad we see would cause her to be facing away from Shadow. In neither of these do we see any evidence that anyone other than Shadow and Maria are in the room or even nearby.

Shadow also has enough evidence he’s who he thinks he is- he has the right powerset, the GUN soldier says that they did, indeed, seal away an Ultimate Prototype, Gerald mentions Shadow enough in his monologues, and... honestly there’s really no evidence that he isn’t Shadow, other than the two pods. And two pods? Shadow was sent out alone, we saw no evidence of a second pod in either flashback. So he wasn’t with anyone else.

So what’s the conclusion? The conclusion is that these are two different events- one where Maria releases Shadow, and one where she releases another- or, possibly, the others, the two pods that were logged as escaping.

Maria either freed Shadow first and then the other two, or she freed the first two, got shot, and then managed to survive long enough to send Shadow away. Either way-- these events are separate.

So what was in the other two pods? Two other prototypes of the Ultimate Lifeform, clearly, but nothing like the Biolizard, they’re too small.

Now let me ask you something... wouldn’t it make sense for the Ultimate Prototypes to look similar, if they were similar lifeforms?

And who do we know who looks similar to Shadow?

Part Two: Sonic is an Ultimate Lifeform

[ID: Shadow looking down at Sonic, and saying, “I see. We actually do look alike. It’s like looking in a mirror.” End ID.]

Okay so like. Unless you’re very colorblind I think you’ve noticed that Shadow and Sonic are completely different colors. But let’s ignore that for now-- they do have a very similar silhouette... in fact, Shadow’s silhouette is incredibly close to SuperSonic, which is Sonic at full power. And in-universe, they look similar enough that in low lighting pretty much nobody can tell them apart.

And not just that- Sonic has a lot of power for a seemingly “normal” mobian. [Yes, I know they don’t use the term “Mobius” in Sonic X but let me simplify this somehow.] His superspeed, ability to survive so much shit... he’s powerful enough that he presents a rival for Shadow without chaos emeralds (though Shadow is nerfed a little by the Inhibitor Rings- more on that later).

[ID: Sonic and Shadow racing; they are keeping up with each other. Shadow says, “It seems your appearance isn’t the only thing that’s similar to me. Who are you?” Sonic responds, “I’m me.” End ID.]

Shadow’s right- their appearance isn’t where the resemblance stops. And of course there’s probably the most damning similarity-- they are the only two characters we see go Super and have the ability to control the Chaos Emeralds.

[ID: First image is SuperSonic and SuperShadow, having absorbed the power of the chaos emeralds. Second image is from the Third Season, where a MetaRex shouts, “There are two individuals [referring to Sonic and Shadow] who can draw out the power of the Chaos Emeralds?” End ID.]

Oh and SPEAKING OF Sonic/Shadow similarities-- there’s a scene in Season Three where Sonic is being lectured by the villain about how all life ends eventually so why bother etc. and Sonic says that life is worth the good bits, all that jazz. Here’s the scene:

youtube

And exactly 1:25 in.... guess what starts playing

youtube

This song is scarily similar to “Recollection of the Ark”... Shadow’s sad song about his memories of the ARK... while Sonic is being lectured about still having faith in humanity. You know. Like MARIA WANTED.

Interesting how we know absolutely nothing about Sonic’s past, huh-- pretty much all we have before he meets Tails is that he says he’s fifteen years old, but honestly... are we even sure about that? First of all, if Sonic was revived alone, there wouldn’t be a way to tell his age, he’d probably just accept the first age someone assigned him.

Alternatively, we know from the end of Season Two and the beginning of Season Three that time works in a very wonky way from Earth to Mobius- in the ~2-3 days Sonic’s alone with Chris, a week passes on Mobius, despite the fact we know he can chaos control at any time. In the third season? Six years pass on Earth while six months pass on Mobius. So time doesn’t really work in a reasonable way, meaning it’s possible that Sonic is fifteen... and he lived fifteen years on Mobius after awakening, while fifty years passed on Earth.

And we know for a fact that travel between Mobius and Earth was possible even before the events of Season One... because Eggman was born on Earth.

[ID: Eggman looking shocked and turning around in a chair, announcing, “I was born in this world!” End ID.]

Eggman was born on Earth and somehow ended up on Mobius-- but he was young enough he didn’t realize until he saw that Gerald lived on Earth. So was he in the second escape pod? It’s possible, but I don’t think so-- he’d have to have information on Gerald, and it seems he had a picture of Gerald and Maria, so it’s likely he traveled with a parent or guardian, or at least some kind of family history, which I doubt Maria would think to store in an escape pod while everyone was running for their lives. This plot element was probably just to set up that travel between the dimensions happens more than we think.

Neither escape pod from the ARK was recovered, probably because they ended up on Mobius.

It’s most likely that they Chaos Controlled into the other dimension-- I know I said Maria probably wouldn’t think to store anything other than the lifeform themselves in the pod, but if the lifeform needed Chaos Emeralds to practice/control their powers, or the Chaos Emeralds were already stored in an escape pod for safekeeping-- or if, possibly, GUN was attempting to capture the Chaos Emeralds as well, and the Robotniks knew that they would use them in a destructive way-- all that combined could mean that the emeralds would also be important enough to send away in a pod.

If even one of the pods had Chaos Emeralds, it’s possible that the lifeform inside could have sensed danger and unconsciously teleported them to the most safe place from GUN-- another world where GUN didn’t exist and couldn’t reach them. And even better-- a world where mobians like them lived.

From Sonic X lore that I don’t have the time to find and screencap, we know that the two worlds used to be the same but split at some point in history. If this was after, say, the events of Chaos destroying the Echidnas-- which, sidenote, interesting how they disappear and nobody knows where they went, so it’s possible that Chaos straight-up split the dimensions just to get rid of the Echidnas-- then enough of their lore could remain. Old cave paintings, wall carvings, etc., could show enough mobians that scientists could probably think “oh, wow, that looks like a god figure. might as well design our ultimate lifeform after that, esp since they had this god that could control chaos and the chaos emeralds came from here.”

Wanna know what’s interesting about those ancient echidna temples? Guess who’s there-- if we go by Sonic 3 & Knuckles, a game that ofc had been released by the time X was being written...

SuperSonic.

Both the ultimate form of Sonic, and the silhouette of Shadow.

So let’s say they find this on the ARK studies, and they’re like “okay so our ultimate lifeform goal is a hedgehog. Got it.” There’s two options after this:

They make Sonic, but deem him a failure for reasons and cryo-freeze him until they need him or can release him. They then proceed to make Shadow, who they believe actually is their ultimate lifeform.

They made Shadow first, but after a while kept experimenting and making more prototypes, just in case, or possibly because they decided Shadow wasn’t powerful enough. However, the prototypes weren’t ready to awaken before the ARK massacre, Shadow never met them.

So as I’ve made clear, I’m pretty sure that one of those prototypes was Sonic-- who, of course, has no idea. Either he only entered consciousness after arriving in Mobius, or his memories of the ARK were so vague, traumatic, early, or a combo, that his mind blocked them out. Either way, it doesn’t matter, what matters is that he and Shadow are both prototypes, which is what gives Sonic his power.

And Sonic’s power, btw, isn’t limited like Shadow’s. Because he doesn’t have inhibitor rings.

If prototype!Sonic was sent away with inhibitor rings, he ditched them. Which would make sense, especially if he woke up with no memory of the ARK and didn’t know why these weird bracelets were on his arm. He would notice that the rings slowed him down and ditch them fast. And that’s assuming they even stuck rings on the prototype.

But if we do assume they stuck rings on the prototypes... maybe we can find the other lifeform that was sent away along with Sonic.

Part Three: Who is the Third Ultimate Lifeform?

Okay. Let’s do a headcount.

Who, in Sonic X,

Existed on Mobius at the same time as Sonic,

Doesn’t appear to have a lot of power but has a lot of incredible strength if you pay attention,

Sometimes shows strange abilities, such as far leaps into the air, a speed great enough that they can sometimes catch up to Sonic (though not as great, possibly because of the inhibition), even potentially the ability to summon weapons out of thin air,

Looks similar to the Mobian Hedgehog-- or, perhaps, with influences from a Mobian Echidna, who were the ones who had the SuperSonic glyphs in the first place, and thus could potentially serve as a design point,

Wears rings around their wrists at all times?

[ID: Amy Rose being absurdly powerful in several screencaps, often glowing; though this is normal anime expressionwork, it is something that exclusively happens to Amy in Sonic X. End iD.]

And, of course, this beauteous moment:

[ID: A scene from the season two finale of Sonic X. Eggman’s ship, on which Amy’s hammer is stuck, is high above her, and Eggman taunts “It doesn’t matter if you’re angry because your hammer is stuck up here!” In the following image, a moving gif, Amy summons a hammer out of thin air, a puff of smoke coming from it, as she is still glowing with a fire-like energy. Eggman’s robots shout “She has another one! How many does she have?” End ID.]

That’s right! This was all an excuse to spout out my “Amy Rose could kill God” propaganda! But it’s not propaganda if I’m right!

Part Four: The Lifeforms

So. It’s been a couple months since I made this post, but I was rewatching Sonic X with my sister, and we did notice that you do see prototype lifeforms for a flash in the GUN soldier’s story.

[ID: Screenshots from Sonic X; The GUN soldier narrates his story, as we see GUN soldiers arresting scientists, while standing in front of empty tubes of bubbling green liquid. The caption reads, “There were many rumors about ARK. Such as doing research for eternal life or creating the Ultimate Life Form.” The GUN soldier steps to a tube that has something in it. End ID.]

We see a brief flash of an experimental lifeform in this memory, as seen above; we also see two more, the ones that were explicitly stated to be the ones Maria was freeing.

[ID: Screenshots from later in the same episode of Sonic X, the first showing two tubes with dark figures inside, surrounded by dark blue bubbling water. The next screenshot shows Maria preparing to free them, with the captions reading “An experimental life form? She’s planning to free it!” End ID.]

So, these silhouettes. Let’s uh. Let’s take a look at those huh

Now, the bodies are too thick to be standard mobian bodies- but we can also see wires attached to the prototypes, as well as, you know, whatever that liquid is. It’s entirely possible there’s something wrapped around their bodies, to keep them safe/asleep/etc.

But..... ok so I might be reaching here but analyzing the face silhouettes, using red lines to mark quills and green to mark potential laid-back ears, it really could be long-quilled sonic and short-quilled Amy.

As well as this, in the shot of the GUN soldier looking at a prototype, I swear I can see a mobian ear.

tl;dr this is all fascinating me and I think we should let the Sonic X crew return to making this show as if they never left so that we can get answers to this

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic x #shadow the hedgehog #sonic adventure 2 #amy rose #mine #connie theories #connie writes

368 notes · View notes

yunatheintrovert · 3 years

Text

chapter 1 | table number nine (Stitch/Fem!Bell Diner Colorblind Soulmate AU)

“Gangster?” Anne mused out loud, peering cautiously out at the lone customer at table number nine, “Maybe Bratva…”

“Have you seen those arms?” Nicole, one of your fellow new waitresses, shot back, “Boxer.”

As you set the coffee pot on the counter, their eyes shot to you.

“Bell,” they both said at the same time, smiling sweetly at you. You paused, pushing the headset of your Walkman down to your neck. The sound of Fleetwood Mac’s The Chain still could be heard faintly from your Walkman.

“Yes?” You asked, already having finished the task of cleaning the floors.

“Could you handle table nine? We’re awfully busy with the…” Nicole trailed off, her eyes wandering over to the kitchen, “...dishes! The dishwasher got fired last night.”

You nodded confusedly. You had just helped John with the dishes earlier this morning. Although, you left before the busy morning and lunch hours at the diner.

Straightening them of your black buttoned dress, you looked over to table number nine, the table at the very back of the diner.

As it so happened, the lamp hanging over the table flickered and dimmed every so often.

Probably the storm, you thought briefly. Heavy raindrops fell against the glass windows in the hail of rainfall and wind outside. The streetlights outside flickered, occasionally bathing the parking lot in darkness every so often.

You walked down the row of booths and reached the end.

Table number nine.

You found yourself looking at a large man in a hooded jacket, the hood just covering his head. His gloved hands rested on the table, a familiar impatient gesture among customers. Clear raindrops still clung to the dark fabric of his jacket.

He likely was a weary motorist taking a break from the poor stormy conditions of the interstate road.

“Can I take your order, sir?” you asked. His head turned to you before he looked up. You blinked. You found yourself staring into a lone cerulean eye and one scarred milky eye.

“Yes-” he said in a thickly accented voice before he suddenly froze. Eastern European, perhaps? That was different from the usual customer stopping by the roadside diner.

Noticing the heavyweight of his stare on you, you smiled sheepishly at him. He must have seen the apparent bruise on your face from walking into that street sign yet again. The bruising on your face already gained enough stares from the customers earlier in the morning.

“Have you heard of our legendary peach pie here, sir?” you asked cheerily instead. Maybelle’s Diner really did have the world’s finest peach pie.

You couldn’t quite remember having any other kind of pie aside from that one time at the hospital... But it was still the finest by your own experience and the testimony of others.

His lone dark eye stared at you as if calculating something.

“ты моя душа,” he said suddenly, his gaze softening ever so slightly. He finally broke away from the stare, “Da, I will have peaches.”

You felt an inkling of curiosity at what he said in that language of his. Maybe, he really was concerned about that bruise on your eye. But you focused on the English part of his words instead.

“Peach pie, it is then!” you answered with a smile. Already about to turn away, you froze. You almost forgot!

“Would you, uh, like some coffee with that?” you once again asked sheepishly.

He nodded.

________________________________________________________________

Curiously, you glanced over to table number nine. You had just gotten done taking a break after giving the customer there his coffee and peach pie, which he had accepted with a nod and another string of foreign words.

The table was empty.

Looking around, you saw Anne and Nicole still at the other end of the diner chatting away on the stools. You walked over to the table only to see the payment for the meal already on the table.

You stared down at the dollar bill resting on the white paper napkin. Noticing the dark scribblings on the napkin, you brought it closer curiously. Maybe that was the customer’s own way of leaving his review on the diner's service and peach pie.

Perhaps, Anne would know.

She was in college, having taken the summer to work at the diner with her grandmother, the Maybelle's Diner namesake. She knew quite a few languages ranging from Latvian to Russian.

You walked over to Anne and Nicole, still perched on the dark grey stools of the diner with coffee mugs of their own in hand.

“Table number nine left this note,” you said, handing the note to Anne, who took it with wary curiosity, “Could you translate it?”

Her eyes scanned over the dark penned scribblings on the white paper napkin for several moments before glancing away suddenly. Her eyes widened and her face paled, “I-I can’t read this. It’s in uh, Ukrainian!”

Oh.

You looked down a bit with some disappointment. But that couldn’t be helped. For all you knew, the customer could have just written all of that down out of boredom.

“...But I can read several words,” Anne said hesitantly before adding, “Peaches...pie...soul.”

You tilted your head. Peach pie was soul food? Maybe that’s what he was trying to say on the napkin. Before you could guess that out loud, Nicole suddenly spoke up with her gaze fixed at the money still in your hand.

“Bell,” Nicole said slowly, “What’s that in your hand?”

“Payment from the customer,” you replied. You hadn’t checked what the dollar bill was yet. But it probably was five dollars-

“Why is it a hundred dollars?”

...Wait, what?

You turned over the dollar bill only to see Benjamin Franklin’s face on it.

One hundred dollars, you thought.

Huh.

He must have really liked the peach pie.

You must have voiced your thoughts out loud for Anne shook her head and sighed.

“Bell, he already went up to us and paid for the pie and coffee. That,” she gestured to the hundred dollar bill in your hand, “...is the tip for you.”

You blinked.

There must have been some mistake. Maybe, he left the hundred dollar bill accidentally.

Or, you guessed.

Maybe he really did love your recommendation of the peach pie that much.

You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly. This still was really too much, “Maybe we should split it up among us-”

“No!” Anne blurted out, shooting a warning look at Nicole, “You, uh, deserve it, Bell.”

Nicole gave a confused look but nodded nonetheless, “Getting picked up by a serial killer once already makes you due for good karma.”

“But I stabbed him?” you asked confusedly. Granted, you weren’t quite sure how you made a pencil into a lethal weapon in the closed confines of the car. Still, wouldn’t that put you off of good karma?

“Exactly,” Anne murmured before shaking her head to herself with a sigh, “Just...just enjoy it.”

You just nodded, leaning against the counter as you sat idly on the red stool. Your gaze soon wandered to table number nine.

He really reminded you of the patron usually at table number five.

That customer loved the burgers at Maybelle’s Diner since he gave you all those relatively large tips you've tried to refuse.

________________________________________________________________

Author’s Note: Hi, y’all! I decided to write out this chapter since the idea of a Diner AU is just so appealing to me and I have some fun ideas for Stitch/Bell in this AU that are softer than what I’ve written for them in this past. I also decided to write this chapter out of the inspiration I got from seeing the fanart @mortal-kombattore-115 drew out for my other Stitch/Bell fic involving peaches. So special shout-out to them! That really made my week and gave me some inspiration to write this chapter, yet another peach-related Stitch/Bell content...

Anyways, indeed this is a Soulmate AU (a Colorblind one although there is a twist that’ll be explained soon). Bell is just oblivious along with something else. And to give some context, this takes place post-Solovetsky where Bell is spared although she is amnesiac and does have some lingering effects from getting shot in the head.

This wasn’t beta-read this time...so I hope this didn’t turn out too bad. Thanks for reading!

#vikhor stitch kuzmin #cod stitch #vikhor stitch kuzmin/bell #vikhor stitch kuzmin x bell #cod black ops cold war #cod cold war fanfiction #cod bell #fanfic aesthetic #soulmate au #Oblivious!Bell #colorblind soulmate AU #fic: table number nine

38 notes · View notes

jonniquidd · 4 years

Text

Trolls World Tour: A Cultural Review

Let’s talk about reproduction:

I think it is wonderful that we get to see how trolls are born in this movie. Eggs that can be hatched by everyone, and anyone. We still don’t know the circumstances that lead to birth, but I really enjoy the fact that gender isn’t a factor.

Guy diamond gives birth to a tiny little version of himself. We later see the country trolls give birth the same way. Last, we see how Cooper was born. In all these instances, there is a celebration of life (as it relates to culture) and we see that the response to birth is all different.

Let’s talk about music:

We all know that pop rules. Especially in the real world. But not many people realize that pop music takes a lot of their inspiration from other genres. Some would say that it degrades the original while others claim improvement. Either way, pop is barely original in its display.

Look at artist like Taylor Swift. She is a pop country artist. Look at Beyoncé, she is a pop hip-hop artist. Look at Gaga, she is pop techno. All of these artists are taking hints from one major genre and use it to create a more paliable form of their genre. This is the essence of pop in it’s core.

This isn’t to say that pop isn’t good. Look at how it brings people together. In the end of the movie, it is pop that helps to reunite all of the genres after they are seemingly destroyed. But let’s not forget where all of this music comes from. Black culture.

Let’s talk about race and racism:

I don’t know if you know this, but most American music came from black culture. Jazz came from us, the blues, rock’n’roll, techno, funk, disco, all of it. US! Even country music. Look at the history behind most genres and you will find black people as the inspiration.

Now with that being said, there is a part in the movie where Poppyfinds out that the history she has been told is lie. “Your scrapbooks are made by the victors,” as Prince D, tells Poppy, after she explains what she knows. He goes on to tell her that it was her people who cause the trolls to split up. It was all because pop wanted to control all music.

Sound familiar? In past, we all know that white Europeans conquered the world and forced everyone to become Christians and it wasn’t until colonies like America broke free did the world start seeing the changes we see today. In the movie, the trolls were left with one choice, take their most valued possession and run. This is very similar to the folks who fled the colonists. Native Americans, aboriginals, and even certain Asian countries gave up their land so that they could keep their way of life. It was either that, or die.

When Poppy hears this, she is rightfully concerned about what she has been taught, but just like a fair amount of white folks today, she refused tkk ok see the big picture. She says to the funk trolls, “they [the rock trolls] just need to see that we’re all the same!” She is then corrected by king Quincy, and he tells her that they are not all the same. He tells her that their differences are important and should be respected. That there is a reason for their different sounds, looks and colors. This is immediately ignored by Poppy, until Branch tells her how her ignorance is hurting everyone.

Let’s look at history again:

When we think of the progress our country has made over the years, we can clearly see that there is a new resurgence of people looking to make things the way they were. They are looking to divide us once again, but with the notion that this division will somehow bring us together. Just like Queen Barb. It isn’t until Poppy destroys the strings, that all of the trolls realize that their differences are engrained in them, and cannot be changed by any force.

Now we are beginning to see the same truth in the real world. Our differences matter, and being “colorblind” does nothing but hurt those who are proud of their differences. This is happening around the country. Folks are beginning to understand their history is a lie, what really happened, and how things led up to the world we see today. Things like gentrification, segregation, systemic racism and poverty are all being looked at under a new lens. This is important to our eventual unification.

Let’s talk about revolution:

When Poppy destroys all of the strings, it seems all hope is lost. There is no music and all of the color disappears. All of the trolls seem to finally be united, but under a banner of sadness and depression. That is until Coopre finds his rythwm once again through the sound of his own heartbeat.

It is theorized that music began with humans feeling the rhythm of their hearts and dancing to it. Since all of humanity started in Africa, it only makes sense that the “black” trolls would be the ones to bring music back. They do it by simply being themselves and enjoying being who they are. Next the country trolls follow and from there all of the trolls start singing again.

This is a beautiful representation of what is happening in the world right now. All of us are feeling the empty gray feeling of being taken from what we are meant to be. We all feel a bit drained right now, especially with the virus and constant politicizing of everyday issues.

However, black culture is rising up from this. As well as indigenous, gay, and other minority groups, we are using this sadness to make way for a better understanding. We are using our heart songs to breath new life into our cultures and the cultures of everyone else. Protesters around the country are coming together to unite their communities. Though you’re only being shown the riots, where there are peaceful protests there seem to be real talks of understanding and empathy amongst different racial groups.

Right now there is a revolution happening very similar to the one the trolls went through. Right now we are still in the silence part of the movie, but slowly the world is hearing a heartbeat. That heartbeat is going to grow into a revolution that finally unites us all, while still respecting our differences. It’s started with these protests, but is slowly becoming a work of harmony.

The final lesson from Trolls World Tour is to listen. Listen to people when they tell you how they feel. Listen to people and accept their differences. This is the only way to move forward and to create a universal harmony. You can be yourself and still be with everyone else. It’s a lot more complicated than the movie makes it out to be, but I know we can do it. We just have to listen to our hearts.

#trolls #trolls movie #trolls world tour #love #hope #peace #unification #truth #understanding #empathy

215 notes · View notes

canyouhearthelight · 3 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 115

Extra special thanks for this chapter go out to @baelpenrose and @charlylimph-blog. Besides being regular beta-readers for me, Bael really really wanted a chapter with more Charly/Coffey, and Charly happily obliged by joining my and Bael’s regularly scheduled live-write of the chapter. We. Had. A. Blast. It was a shining beacon of love and laughter in my life, let me tell you.

I walked from the kitchen to the entry just as the notification went off that someone was standing outside. Still laughing from the comment Tyche made about the chicken breasts we were currently stuffing, my smile didn’t drop an inch as I saw Charly and Coffey standing there. “Hey, you two! About time!”

Charly held her head high and ignored my comment, while Coffey grinned back. “Best for last, you know,” he tossed with a wink as he handed over a bottle of red wine. “I know it doesn’t go with chicken but…”

“Stomachs are colorblind,” I finished, in sync with Charly and Tyche like we had rehearsed it. Conor and Maverick burst into laughter while Arthur just shook his head at our antics.

Charly stretched her neck to look over Tyche’s shoulder. “Those looks like…”

“We know,” Arthur groaned, eliciting another chuckle from everyone. “Tyche just mentioned that.”

“The - feta? - cheese is not helping your case, I’m just saying.”

Tyche tried her hardest to scowl and made a shooing gesture. “Please don’t ruin dinner before it’s even cooked please?”

“If I promise it won’t make dinner sound obscene, can I ask a question?” Charly ventured. All eyes turned toward her, since it was probably the first time she had ever asked permission to ask a question. Once I slowly nodded, she took a deep breath. “Have you ever tried rabbit?” The next part was rushed. “ImeanIhavearecipeforrabbitstewthat’stodiefor, andI’mprettysureAntoinewouldlikerabbitragout-”

“Charly,” Coffey intoned softly, reaching out to gently scritch the back of her neck.

She stopped talking and bit her lips. “I just mean - “

“It’s okay,” I assured them before anyone else in the room exploded from the laughter they were trying to hold back for her sake. “I really would love that recipe, Charly. I actually have a recipe for lapine ragout that Antoine adores, but the only other recipe I have is for coney pie.”

Charly nodded enthusiastically while practically collapsing on Coffey’s lap. Still nodding, she pulled a file up on her datapad and flicked it towards me. “Can I ask about the rabbits?” she asked softly, head twitching when Coffey scowled and - I assume - gently tugged the hair above where he was still scratching her neck. “Doesn’t hurt to ask!” she complained.

“I swear, it’s fine,” Arthur stated firmly. “You would be shocked at how hilarious she finds this story.”

Tyche rolled her eyes hard enough to move her neck. “And it puts some things into perspective…” she sighed.

Conor, on the other hand, gave me a hard look when I opened my mouth. “You know the rule.”

Dropping my head back in defeat, I took a deep breath. “Yes, I will make coney pie tomorrow for dinner.” Antoine, Charly, and Coffey all looked at me in confusion. “Conor hates hearing about my near-death experiences, so when I tell this story I have to make him rabbit pie for dinner.”

“So he can eat your enemies,” Charly nodded sagely.

“Pretty much,” I shrugged.

“Wait- “ she sputtered, realizing the rest of what I explained. “You had a near death experience? With a bunny!?”

All I could do was giggle. “Yes. I have a deathly fear of bunnies because one almost killed me once.”

“Twas no ordinary rabbit - it had a vicious streak a mile wide….” Arthur added, funny accent and all.

“May I ask that no one interrupt Sophia until she explains how she managed a real-life reenactment of a Monty Python sketch?” Coffey asked, leaning forward so far that Charly had to twist to stay on his lap.

“The truth is stranger than fiction,” Arthur nodded, tapping his glass gently against the other man’s. “Sophia, take it away.”

Shaking my head with a grin, I obliged. “You have to know, Tyche and I grew up in a very backwater, uneducated family, and also in hereditary poverty. So, it was perfectly normal - to us, anyway - to have pets like chickens, or goats… or rabbits… Food animals. Well, when I was eight, my uncle decided I was old enough for my first pet rabbit. A good, big one.” Tyche shook her head with a smirk, and I just shot her a glance as I kept speaking. “Well, Snickers wasn’t quite hand-tamed. And the only way to hand-tame a wild rabbit is to…. Well, hold it, honestly. So I would sit in the yard, with Snickers in my lap, and hold him while he ate grass.”

Maverick opened his mouth to ask the question he always loved to ask, but Charly gently put her hand on his wrist and shook her head.

I still answered the question I knew would have come. “I know, it sounds like the most harmless thing in the world, right? Pet rabbit, in my lap, chilling out and eating fresh grass. The thing is… Rabbits are burrowers. And they have these wicked claws on their back feet just for that. So, when you hold them, you have to hold their back feet together, or they kick to get away.”

Charly gasped softly as she realized what was coming, quickly clamping a hand over her mouth.

I nodded. “Yep. One day, Snickers got started, and I didn’t have his back feet as tightly as I should have, and… well, he opened my arm up from wrist to elbow before I could let him go. I screamed, my mother came out, took me to the emergency room. I’ve been terrified of rabbits ever since.”

“That’s awful!” Charly cried out, jumping up to come hug me.

As I patted her on the back, Coffey sat up straighter and shook his head. “Poppy, she’s okay now. And besides, didn’t you hear her mention how ‘backwater’ her family was?” He arched an eyebrow at me, eye gleaming. “I bet that rabbit was dinner that same night.”

“Bunny dumplings,” Tyche confirmed with a wink. “If we didn’t know what else to do with it, it was dumplings.”

Arthur shook his head with a chuckle. “I would have thought you would be upset that she ate her pet, Miss Harper.”

She made a rude noise in return. “Are you kidding!? The first thing I killed with a bow was a rabbit.” Head high, she flexed her biceps. “Do you know how fast those things are!?”

“Nice and fat one, too,” Coffey added. “And she found rosemary to roast it with.”

“And lemon balm,” she added. “And mint, but that stuff grows everywhere.”

I nearly groaned at the memory of spit-roasted wild game.

“So, you two have been through the whole After together?” Conor asked as dinner hit the table.

Charly nodded enthusiastically as she took a bite. “Yeah, we were friends Before - oh my gosh, this balsamic reduction is perfect, Tyche - and found each other not long after the End. After a while…” she trailed off, waving between them as much as she could, considering she was still sitting on Coffey’s lap.

We all nodded. I was, honestly, happy to see two people who knew each other that long survive the end of the world together. “So, I knew Charly did archery - she’s shown me a few times, but I’m terrible at it, turns out. What about you, Coffey?” I paused before realizing how intrusive that might be. “And if you don’t want to answer, it’s okay,” I rushed to clarify.

He smiled in reassurance. “I was security, Before, and… security After, in a way.” Chewing thoughtfully on a bite of bread, he glanced at something none of us could see. “I had a gun, at first - being a black man who grew up in NorthAm before it was NorthAm, it was more prudent than it was deviant at the time.”

“I don’t blame you,” I grumbled, while Tyche nodded and scowled furiously. We were horrifically embarrassed to be related to some of the reasons he needed a gun in the Before.

He tilted his head in a conciliatory fashion, as though he could tell what I was thinking. “In the After, bullets were hard to come by and… not very prudent, it turned out. They drew a lot of attention. Whereas our sneaky Charly…”

“Probably made traps,” Arthur finished nonchalantly. When a few of us glanced at him, he rolled his eyes. “Oh come on! No one can tell me the queen of pranks and engineering over here did not booby-trap anywhere she was living within an inch of her life and the lives around her.”

Charly beamed, while Coffey just chuckled. “I honestly don’t believe the margin of error was quite that wide, to be frank. But it was safe enough that, before long, we accidentally had an enclave.”

I snorted in an attempt not to choke on my drink, while Conor and Maverick were both glancing at Arthur - the resident warlord.

Arthur just blinked in an almost placid manner. “I’m actually impressed. You started rebuilding by accident.”

“Do I look like someone who decides to take over the world?” Charly pointed out. After a chorus of Yes all around the table, she rolled her eyes. “It’s not my fault that hobbit holes are a strategically sound idea.”

“Apocalyptic Tolkien,” Tyche whistled. “I like it.”

“Sophia would have loved the library,” Coffey laughed.

My head shot up hard enough to make my neck hurt. “Library?”

He nodded. “Charly had the idea to go rescue every book we could find on camping, how-tos, engineering, historical infrastructure…”

“You just passed every class you are ever in, with flying colors,” Arthur nodded. “I had to make most of my people read - though we did end up with a library and decent bathing infrastructure.”

“Siege engines, Mr. Farro. We were building siege engines.”

He muttered something that sounded like “I will make up classes for you to pass,” but I was willing to bet that he would never admit it. Out loud, he just added “The fact that you not only read voluntarily but got other people to read without being forced has earned you extra credit.” She opened her mouth to object, but he held up a hand. “I’m being entirely serious, and no I won’t take it back.”

“I wasn’t going to try to survive an apocalypse without baths,” she scowled, stabbing a potato. “We may have ended the world, but we weren’t heathens.” Chewing so fast I thought she was going to choke, she immediately started asking Arthur about how he organized plumbing for his group.

“Trenches, aqueducts, and basically I got lucky because someone had a construction background. We had some records of how Romans built their sewers with something close enough to the materials we had to work with so… it worked out.

With that, the conversation took off in the direction of infrastructure for post-apocalypse settlements, with Conor adding his opinion everywhere possible. I knew there was no changing the topic, so I just shook my head and tried to keep up.

<< Prev Masterlist Next >>

#the miys #found family #aliens #apocalypse #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #earth is space australia #humans are space fae #hfy #science fiction #scifi #original scifi #original science fiction #original fiction #my writing

65 notes · View notes

typical-simplelove · 3 years

Text

Part Two: Dragon Boats (T. Jost)

Part Two to Red Envelopes, Dragon Boats, and Mooncakes; a Tyson Jost fic.

Series Masterlist (please read the small note at the beginning of the Masterlist if you haven’t already)

Pinterest Link

Summary: Tyson and Kayla spend the offseason in St. Albert when the Dragon Boat Festival occurs. The couple spend the day with Tyson’s family following Kayla’s family traditions.

Author’s Note: Similar author’s note to the first part. You don’t have to read part one to understand part two, just an fyi! Again, I have linked pictures and websites about some of the things that are mentioned here. The Pinterest board linked above also has more photos about the holiday. Anyways, here’s part two! I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you thought!

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Again, no climax, really. However, warnings are scissors, being Chinese, Chinese holidays, eating meat, mentions of death.

Before the Dragon Boat Festival

During the Dragon Boat Festival, Kayla and Tyson would be back in St. Albert for the offseason. Because of this, Kayla would not be able to spend the cultural holiday with her parents. Knowing that Kayla was a bit bummed about this, Tyson took it upon himself to try to make this holiday similar to ones in the past.

Tyson began researching about the holiday. While researching, he learned that people watch or participate in Dragon Boat racing and eat something called Sticky Rice. The symbolism of this holiday is to ward off evil spirits, any lurking diseases, and release any negativity. Tyson had no idea how to celebrate this holiday with Kayla and had no idea how her family celebrated. He decided to just ask Kayla and help her plan.

“Hey Kayla,” Tyson asks during breakfast a few days before the Dragon Boat Festival. “How do you celebrate the Dragon Boat Festival? I know that’s the next holiday that is coming up that your family celebrates.”

Kayla was shocked that Tyson knew about this. “My family doesn’t do much for this holiday. We don’t watch dragon boat racing but my sister and I always used to make our own mini dragon boats out of construction paper. My mom, sister, and I also used to make sticky rice with my grandfather before he died.”

“What if we did that? What if you, me, Kacey, my mom, and grandparents all made sticky rice? You can teach us! It may not be the holiday you’re used to because you aren’t in Denver with family but you can celebrate with us!”

“If you want, yeah sure! I’ll ask my mom for the recipe and we can make them.”

“Great, I’m excited, babe.”

Despite Tyson only telling Kayla about the sticky rice, he thought he would surprise her with the materials to make dragon boats. Tyson was bouncing in his seat, super excited that he got to spend another holiday with you.

龍舟節 (long zhou jie) - Dragon Boat Festival - June 14, 2021

“Kacey, my mom, and grandparents are set to come at three. Will that be good?” Tyson asks with an amount of energy that no one should have at eight in the morning.

“Yes, Tyson, don't worry. Everything will be fine.” Kayla responds barely awake.

“Is there anything you need to do to prep before they come?”

“All I need to do is soak the rice. And I marinated the chicken last night so we’re good.”

“Do you need to watch the rice soak?”

Kayla laughs. “No, all I have to do is put the rice in a bowl and then leave it there. I’ll probably do that at 2:45, that way we can be ready to start right away when they arrive.”

“So, then, if I bought something, we can do it before they come?”

“Sure! What is it?”

“I bought materials to make Dragon Boats. I didn’t know what to buy so I went on pinterest and found a site. I asked your sister and she said that the materials they suggested were good. I had to buy green, at least, I thought it was green. I, you know colorblind, so not sure if --”

Tyson is cut off when Kayla kisses him firmly on the lips. “Thank you so much, Tys. You have no idea how much that means to me. Thank you!.”

“Anything for you Kayla. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Tys.”

. . .

After Kayla and Tyson were both mostly awake (more like Kayla because Tyson was bouncing off the walls at 8), they got started on the dragon boats.

“So, teach me. What do I do?”

“First, you have to make the green construction paper into a box to make it look like a box.”

Tyson just stares at Kayla, wishing that he didn’t take the plastic covering off of the paper so he could read the labels and know which was green. However, Kayla, knowing Tyson, handed the green paper to him so that Tyson wasn’t completely lost. Tyson was about to start but unsure how to put the paper into a box format. So, he decided to watch Kayla construct hers first. Once Kayla finished, she held it up and said a soft ‘ta da!’

Tyson was still ever confused. When Kayla went to grab a second piece of green paper, Tyson decided he would mimic her actions in real time. However, instead of Tyson’s looking like Kayla’s once finished, Tyson’s was all jagged and didn’t look anything like a boat.

When Kayla was about to start a third boat, Tyson said, “Wait! Before you start, can you do it slowly and explain each step very carefully and clearly so I can make one that looks like yours?”

Kayla chuckles and says, “Of course. All you had to do was ask.”

“Ready, Tys?” Tyson nods in response.

“First, fold one of the short sides about two and half inches in. Try to fold it into a straight line. Yeah, like that. Now, do it to the opposite side.” Kayla pauses, waiting for Tyson to give her a nod that she can continue.

“Now, you take the long sides and fold it in about two and a half inches so it looks something like this. Next step is cut along these lines and fold them in. Nope, like this. Yeah that. Tape the sides so that it doesn’t fall apart. Yeah, good. You now take your scissors and kind of cut in a curved line, like a half circle but only the outer line, to make the curves of a boat. After, we take the long ends and fold them against each other so that they are pointy.”

Kayla pauses allowing Tyson to catch up. She smiles softly when Tyson has his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth in fierce concentration as he normally does.

“Like this?” Tyson asks when finished.

“Yeah!” Kayla responds enthusiastically. “That’s it! And now, we use the gold sharpie and draw scales on the boat. It’s basically is just circles but not closing them. Stopping about seventy five percent of the way.”

Kayla and Tyson draw the scales in silence not wanting to distract the other.

“What comes next?” Tyson asks, once he has finished his one and Kayla all three of hers.

“We add the dragon!”

“We have to make a dragon?”

“No, normally my sister and I would print out pictures and we’d color them. In past years, Elizabeth would color in while Charlotte and I made the boats. I just printed out dragon heads that would match. Here they are. We can just glue them on.”

“Thank goodness. I don’t think that I would have been able to draw a dragon. Ever. At all. So, don’t ask me to.”

“Don’t worry, Tys. I know your artistic abilities. After we glue on the dragon head, we can make the oars with red construction paper and glue them one. Then, we’ll be done!”

Tyson finished putting his head and oars on the boat before Kayla because she made three and Tyson had one good functioning boat.

“What do we do after we finish making the boats?”

“Normally, my sister and I would make a small pond or lake and tape the boats on there. I bought a blue poster board so we can use that.”

Kayla and Tyson worked on their pond for the dragon boats and didn’t leave out a single detail. They made sure to add areas on the grass next to the pond for the spectators to watch the races. They used old wine corks and painted them red and orange to mimic the traditional drums.The couple worked long into the afternoon and only realized the time when Kayla’s alarm went off reminding her to soak the rice.

Once Kayla returned to the table where the poster board sat, Tyson had added little goldfish into the pond.

“You know, Tys, I think that if there were goldfish in the pond, then they would be far away from the boats. Also, probably not visible to the human eye.”

“Whatever, Ms. Smarty-Pants Kayla. I like the goldfish. I vote to keep the goldfish in the pond.”

“Fine, but then, one of my boats gets to be in the lead when we glue them down.”

“You throw a hard bargain but fine, I agree.” Tyson says with a mischievous grin. Kayla knows that grin. She knows that Tyson is going to begin tickling her until she is begging for mercy. Tyson instantly gets up and begins tickling Kayla. This continues on and the only chance at a reprieve is when the doorbell rings signalling that Tyson’s family has arrived.

“I guess I have to stop tickling you, Kayla.”

“I guess so.” He doesn’t

Tyson’s family decide to let themselves in and are shocked at what they see sitting on the kitchen counter.

“What in the world is this?” Kacey asks.

“Kayla spends her Dragon Boat Festival holiday making sticky rice and dragon boats. So, that’s what we did.” Tyson responds.

“Let me guess, this subpar looking boat was Tyson’s?” Kacey asks. Tyson just sticks his tongue out at her and Tyson does the same.

“Ok, you two, cut it out. We have some sticky rice to make, yeah?” Laura cuts in with a chuckle.

Kayla and Tyson move the pond onto the coffee table and clear all of the craft stuff away and put it into a closet to deal with later.

“I already have the rice soaking so we can start with that. Before we mix everything, we have to cut the Chinese sausage, mushrooms, shallots, and garlic. We have to also saute the shallots, too. Let’s start with that and then we’ll go from there.” Kayla explains.

Once the directions were clear, everyone was assigned with a task. Laura is going to cut the shallots and saute them. Kacey and Kayla are going to wash the mushrooms and cut the mushrooms and garlic. Tyson and his grandparents are going to cut the Chinese sausage.

“So, Kayla, tell me. How long have you been making sticky rice?” Tyson’s grandmother asked.

“I grew up watching my mom, grandfather, and aunties make the rice. This holiday used to be my grandfather’s favorite. When I turned twelve, my mother finally allowed me and my sister, Charlotte, to help make it. We normally would be assigned with washing the mushrooms and cutting them. Sometimes we’d be allowed to help construct the rice into the lotus leaf. That only happened later into my teenage years.”

“Do you do this with your family often?” Laura asks.

“Yeah, we would do this every year. This holiday is the one where my grandfather would be in control of the kitchen. My grandmother, aunties, and parents would all be sitting working on wrapping these and my sister and I would huddle around my grandfather for just a peak. He would always tell us about the same stories each year from when he was a child. When I was in high school, my grandfather passed away and my grandmother became the head sticky rice maker in our family. When I was in college, my grandmother was diagnosed with Arthritis making it hard for her to do any of the cooking so my sister and I took on a bigger role of making the sticky rice with my mom and aunties while my grandmother watched.”

“Is this your first year not making this with them?” Kacey asks.

“It is, actually, yes.” Kayla responds glumly.

“Do you miss them?” Tyson asks, wishing he asked if you wanted to go home.

“I was at first but then you prompted me with the idea of making the sticky rice with all of you so I’m not anymore! My grandfather always used to tell me that sharing our traditions keeps them alive. So, I am doing what he always wanted me to do.” Kayla replies with a bit of pep in her voice.

“Care to share any of those stories, Kayla?” Laura asks. Kayla looks over at Tyson to get confirmation that she should share. Tyson nods prompting Kayla to continue.

“Sure! I can’t remember all of them but one of them that I remember him telling us was when my grandfather was five. This was the first year that he was allowed in the kitchen to observe the cooking with the elders. While he was watching, my grandfather watched one of his uncles put salt on the lotus leaves. Putting salt on the lotus leaves allows for a richer taste for the rice. I’ll get to why we don’t do that in a minute. My grandfather decided that the pinch of salt on the lotus leaves was not enough and he took it upon himself to add more salt. No one noticed. When the sticky rice was ready to eat, the rice was so salty that it was fed to the farm animals. My grandfather felt so bad that he confessed to putting more salt on the lotus leaves. His punishment was to have to clean the chicken pen. Every year after that, no one put salt on the lotus leaves and my grandfather never used salt for his sticky rice ever again. I actually don’t think he ever used salt again after that.”

The story gains a laugh out of everyone.

The rest of the prepping continues on with smaller conversations. Once finished and the rice is drained, everyone watches Kayla mix the rice and all the ingredients together.

“I am going to mix the shallots, mushrooms, sausage, and chicken with rice. I am also going to add oyster sauce, soy sauce, and sesame oil. Once I’ve done that, we can begin wrapping the rice in the lotus leaf.”

Once the rice is mixed, Kayla demonstrates to everyone how to wrap the lotus leaf around the rice.

“You put the leaf on the counter and take one cup of rice and put it in the middle. You just fold it so that the rice won’t come out and tie it with a piece of string. There isn’t any pattern to fold it. Once folded, it should look like this and then we’ll steam them and will have sticky rice!”

“I remember when I was ten and my grandfather was teaching me how to do this.” Kayla begins. “He told me and my sister about the first time he wrapped rice in a lotus leaf. He always told the story and made sure to say that he watched this being made for almost eight years prior to being allowed to wrap them and doesn’t know why he did it. He would tell us that he took the kitchen scissors and began to cup up the leaf. He cut a circle so that the rice could sit on something. He then trimmed the lotus leaf into mini looking pieces of leaf and placed them on the pile of rice. He always compared it to someone making a scrapbook and gluing small pieces of ribbon onto the paper. Every year, he would make one of these. This was what the young cousins would do. They would place the cut up pieces on the lotus leaf. I probably have pictures somewhere of me and my sister making those when we were really young.”

“Did you want to make one?” Tyson asks.

“Yeah? Sure!” Kayla replies with enthusiasm. She goes into the drawer and pulls out a pair of kitchen scissors. Kayla and Tyson begin cutting up a piece of lotus leaf. Once the rice is placed on a circular piece of lotus paper, Tyson and Kayla begin adding the small miniature pieces. Their giggles and laughter can be heard throughout the kitchen, putting smiles on everyone’s face in the kitchen.

For the next hour, Tyson, Kayla, Kacey, Laura, and Tyson’s grandparents folded the sticky rice and lotus leaf to be ready to be steamed. Conversation flowed easily and Kayla couldn’t help but smile. She was able to share her culture and her upbringing with the man she loves and his family she absolutely adored. It couldn't be any better.

After there was no more rice to be folded into the lotus leaf, Kayla put the rice wrapped in lotus leaf into the pot to steam for an hour and half.

“What do you do while the sticky rice is steaming?” Tyson asks.

“Not much, normally my mom or grandmother would begin making the other parts for dinner but I just bought those frozen because I didn’t want to screw up making them for the first time. We can watch a movie or play a game, maybe?” Kayla responds.

After a small debate, everyone decides to play a card game as Kayla will have to get up and check the water every twenty minutes to make sure that no lotus leaves came undone.

…

After an hour and half and steaming the rest of dinner, everyone was able to sit down and eat.

“This is the typical dim sum. Normally dim sum is eaten for lunch but on the Dragon Boat festival, my family eats dim sum at dinner. We have Ha Gow, Siu Mai, Cheong Fan, Lo Ba Go, Cha Siu Bao, and Chao Mian. Which are shrimp dumplings, open faced shrimp dumplings, beef wrapped in rice noodles, fried radish cake, steamed pork bun, and fried noodles, respectively. And, obviously the sticky rice we all labored to make!”

Kayla’s explanation was met with hungry looks and nods of approval of how tasty everything looked.

“How did you eat the one with the cut up lotus leaf?” Tyson asks, confused.

“Normally, we would put that one aside and eat it the next day. When it’s cold, it is easier to pick the lotus leaf pieces off.” Kayla explains.

When Kayla sat down, she was so happy that she was able to celebrate this holiday with loved ones, even if they were her boyfriend’s family. If things went according to plan, Kayla hoped that maybe they could make a tradition out of this.

Part Three will be posted on February 26, 2021

#hockey imagine #hockey fic #tyson jost imagine #tyson jost x reader #hockey fanfiction #nhl imagine #colorado avalanche imagine #tyson jost #chinese culture fic #red envelopes dragon boats mooncakes #dragon boat festival #woc oc!#claudia writes

23 notes · View notes

greyhavensking · 4 years

Text

100 Followers Celebration!

God, I’m late with this, but I finally passed the 100 follower milestone and I wanted to do something for it to show my appreciation. That something turned out to be almost 3000 words of emotional hurt/comfort and dumb boys in love, so I hope someone enjoys it.

I can’t even express how grateful I am to have (over!!!) 100 people think I’m worthy of following when mostly I just reblog other people’s posts and scream in the tags, but this is me trying to get the point across. Thank you, thank you, thank you to the people who continue to tolerate my bullshit and occasionally encourage my sad stucky edits and my angsty fluff fanfics. You’re all amazing and wonderful people!

Also cross-posted on Ao3 here.

you left your mark on me like footprints in the snow

“Buck, you awake?”

It’s sort of a moot point, seeing as Bucky — light sleeper that he is — would have woken up the second Steve stepped across the threshold of the living room, but he feels compelled to ask nonetheless. His ma was a stickler for courtesy, especially when it didn’t cost anyone a dime, and while he can’t quite manage to defer to politeness when it comes to aggravating superiors, it comes easy as breathing with most everyone else.

Bucky isn’t everyone else, and half the time Steve doesn’t bother filtering himself around him, but tonight—

Tonight’s a bad night.

But it’s not Bucky’s night for a change.

As Steve pauses at the back of the couch, arms crossed and head ducked, he sees Bucky smoothly push himself up into a sitting position from where he was stretched across the cushions, rolling his shoulders back as he scrubs his flesh and blood hand over his face. He was awake, judging by the dog-eared book he lets slide to the floor; Steve can’t make out the cover from this angle, but he’d bet anything it’s one of those YA novels Sam recommended to him that he refuses to thank Sam for. Something about Greek gods and terribly unlucky teenagers. Steve doesn’t go for fantasy often, but he knows Bucky’s been plowing through the series for the last few weeks.

“I’m always awake,” Bucky says once he’s gotten a good look at Steve, despite Steve’s best efforts to tuck all the visible hurt away behind an admittedly shaky smile. He’s joking, mostly — when Bucky first came home, he rarely got more than an hour or two of sleep before some imagined threat had him prowling the confines of the apartment, checking and rechecking the locks and the security system. Nowadays his sleepless nights are still disturbingly frequent, but not every night, and he can usually pass them by reading or watching whatever he finds most interesting on TV.

Bucky quirks a brow when Steve remains silent, tilting his head. Assessing. “You, though,” he continues as if he hadn’t paused at all, “you should be dead to the world, Rogers. Sawing logs, or whatever it is they say when you snore louder than a damn foghorn.”

“I don’t — I don’t snore,” Steve bites out, reflexive, which just gets Bucky’s other brow jumping up to join the first.

“So it’s one of those nights, huh.” Bucky nods to himself, twisting around on the couch to lean back against the armrest, legs spread invitingly. He pats the space between his thighs. “Good thing I’m a certified Steve Rogers expert and know exactly what you need.”

Steve considers refuting that claim, but he can’t bring himself to bother with it. A flare of indignation does pulse under his skin (he hates the idea that he needs to be managed), though it peters out just as quickly as it came, taking with it the last shred of warmth Steve’s been clinging to since he slipped out from beneath his bed covers. Bucky’s right, anyway; this is what Steve needs, something they’ve pieced together in the months after Bucky felt safe enough to put himself back into Steve’s orbit.

Rubbing briskly at his upper arms, more for something to do with his hands than any hope of warming himself up, Steve hesitates another moment before he sighs and climbs over the back of the couch to crawl in between Bucky’s legs. Bucky wraps his arms around Steve’s waist instantly, tugging him until his back is flush with Bucky’s chest. He noses at the nape of Steve’s neck, presses a kiss there that has a delightful shiver rippling down Steve’s spine, then wedges his chin into the space between neck and shoulder.

“What’s the threat level with this one?” Bucky asks quietly. Threat level is their established short-hand for how bad a nightmare was, what kind of toll it took on them. It’s easier getting that out than something like I woke up crying reaching for you can’t get my heart to calm down can’t breathe woke up alone and had to bite back a scream, and Steve can admit that Bucky’s nothing short of a goddamn genius for giving Steve a way to explain without explaining.

“‘Bout a seven,” Steve says, which means it’s closer to a nine than he’d like. He can still feel the phantom chill of wind and snow on his face, the ice-clogged water in his lungs, arms outstretched but grasping at nothing nothing nothing. Bucky’s face, frozen over and glassy-eyed. No air, no breath, no life in either of them — but Steve, undead, trapped below the ice, forced to watch it all play out on repeat—

“Uh-huh. Seven. Sure, I’ll go with that for now.” Bucky’s voice is right against his ear, his breath warm, the solid weight of him so very real that Steve shudders again, leaning into him even though there’s hardly space left between them to close. “You need me to do anything extra special?”

Steve shakes his head, then pauses, reconsiders. “Keep talking?”

His nightmares are — strange. They’re quiet, mostly, unless they involve the train, and then it’s the clack-clack-clack of the tracks, the high-pitched whistling of the wind, his own desperate screams. But when it’s the ice… it’s almost silent. Like an old film, the reels spinning on soundlessly around him. Colors are muted, too, shades of gray and blue and the occasional vibrant streak of red that could be blood, could be his suit, could be the afterimage of staring too long into a bright light.

Bucky huffs a laugh and tightens his arms around Steve, and in return Steve shifts to lay his hands over Bucky’s skin, one sliding along his forearm, the other reaching down to slip under the hem of Bucky’s shorts. He’d grab the metal arm (it doesn’t bother him, and it’s body temperature from being tucked under Bucky on the couch) but he needs skin right now, and he knows Bucky doesn’t begrudge him it.

“Talking,” Bucky murmurs. “You gotta pick the one thing I’m no good at anymore, don’t ya. No, no, don’t start,” he says, reading the tensing of Steve’s body all too well, and Steve slumps back into his hold, caught out. “I’m not sayin’ I won’t do it, and I’m not gettin’ all self-deprecating on you, either. Words are hard, sweetheart, you know that.”

“Sorry, Buck. We can just put the TV on, or—”

“I said it’s fine, Rogers. Relax. I’m not in the habit of doing things I don’t want to these days, even for you, which is a goddamn miracle considering all the shit I put up with for your benefit when we were kids. Christ.”

Steve rolls his eyes, which he knows is the exact reaction Bucky was going for. “Alright, I’ll bite. What’d I talk you into that was so bad?”

“God, Steve, Snow White? How many times d’we see that in theaters?”

“What? You loved that movie!”

“No, you loved that movie, despite being fuckin’ colorblind. I went because I’m a goddamn sap and I couldn’t get enough of the wide-eyed baby deer act you pulled every time you got to see all that animation in action. You sparkled, Steve, it was addicting.”

“What?”

“Whaddya mean, what? Can’t a guy get all sentimental over how cute his best guy looked staring adoringly at a cartoon?”

“No, I mean— you went for me? We weren’t even…”

“First of all, jackass, I don’t gotta be in love with someone to wanna see them happy. Second, I honestly can’t tell you if I realized that I was in love with you back then. It’s all mixed up with how I definitely felt during the war, and then with everything that came with thawing out here.”

Hold on—

“Bucky. Bucky. The war?”

Steve’s half-twisted around in Bucky’s arms now, staring at him, slack-jawed, because they’ve never had this conversation before. Nothing even close to this has ever come up between them. When they got together this century, they only acknowledged that they’d never considered doing so back in the thirties, that their feelings only really surfaced now because they finally had a moment to rest without the fear of discovery hanging over their heads. Bucky has never breathed a word of loving Steve at any point before that.

But Bucky doesn’t seem to understand what’s running through Steve’s head, because his brows furrow as he stares right back at Steve. “Why are you acting so surprised? You think I curled up with you every night just ‘cause I was cold?” He pauses. “I mean, alright, yes, I was freezing and you were a goddamn furnace all of a sudden, but—”

“You have never said shit about this, Barnes, what the fuck?”

And there’s Bucky rising to the challenge in Steve’s voice, lifting his chin and narrowing his eyes. Refusing to let go of Steve, though, for which he’s grateful; he needs the grounding weight of him all the more in this moment.

“I ain’t exactly proud of it, Steve. You and Carter? Fuck, you made my blood boil with her.”

Steve blinks. Blinks again, shakes his head like that’ll make Bucky’s words fall into a neat little line he can actually understand. He feels Bucky’s chest expand as he breathes in deep, feels it deflate as he lets it out in a heavy sigh. His eyes are nearly silver in this light, and so sheepish that Steve just wants to set this aside and kiss on him until he’s smiling again. But — he wants to know, fuck, he doesn’t like secrets between them anymore, and he knows Bucky’s the same way. It’s not the best time to get into this, but really, in the grand scheme of things… it’s as good a time as they’ll get.

“God, alright. I was jealous, okay? Whether or not I knew what you were to me while we were still in Brooklyn, I sure as hell knew it then when I was watching you two dance around each other for months. The way you’d stare after her, the way she tucked herself right into your side whenever you were in the same room… I was sick with it, hatin’ her and hatin’ myself for feeling that way when I didn’t have a fuckin’ claim to you. When you were happy with her and I couldn’t make myself be happy for you. You think I like admitting I couldn’t put my best friend’s happiness above my own bruised ego?”

“Buck…”

“Aw, don’t look like that, sweetheart. Was my own fault for never saying anything. And, well, for all I knew back then you were straight as an arrow. You thought you were pretty straight, as I recall. Maybe it woulda just driven a wedge between us if I’d said something.”

“Fuck that.” The words are whispered, but they get Steve’s point across just fine — it’s Bucky’s turn to blink, leaning away from Steve slightly like he needs a better look at him to process what he’s just heard. Steve just follows him, getting his knees under him so he can cup Bucky’s face in both palms, holding him close. “Fuck that. I always loved you, Bucky Barnes. Platonic, romantic, doesn’t fucking matter. If you think for one second I woulda left you over something like that—”

Bucky laughs again, a quick, sharp little thing that barely interrupts Steve’s vehement protests, but the kiss Bucky plants on his lips does the job of getting his attention.

“What a stubborn asshole you are, sweetheart.”

Scowling, Steve kisses Bucky again, harder this time but still achingly sweet. “You think I’m lyin’?”

“Do I look like an idiot? No, I don’t think you’re lying, but that’s what you’re saying now, with the glorious gift of hindsight. You can’t say for sure that’s how you would have reacted, and I wouldn’t have blamed you for it.”

“One more time, Barnes, ‘cause I do think you’re a little slow on the uptake tonight. Fuck that. You got my ass through every fuckin’ illness that so much as looked at our borough, got me through ma’s death… you think you catchin’ feelings was gonna scare me away? I was afraid of you leaving, god, I woulda clung to you forever if you let me, even if you got married, had kids, whatever. I probably wouldn’t have believed you could like me, but I wouldn’t have been mad at you over it.”

It’s quiet between them once Steve’s gotten it all out of his system, save for his heart thudding in his chest and their quickened breathing, the tick-tick-tick of the ceiling fan above them. Steve refuses to look away from Bucky’s searching gaze, and god, yes, he’s a stubborn asshole, but he’s also right! He’s right and he’s going to prove that to Bucky, one way or another, because this is too important to let go. He doesn’t want Bucky thinking even for a second that there is a scenario where Steve would throw him over for someone else. Anyone Steve loved — anyone who loved Steve — would have had to accept that Bucky came first, always.

In hindsight, Steve maybe should’ve figured out his own damn feelings long before he reached the 21st century, but that wasn’t exactly his point right now.

Steve doesn’t know how long they sit there like that, holding one another without saying a word, but he doesn’t tear his eyes away from Bucky’s for a single moment of it, willing him to understand that he’s always been Steve’s anchor, his touchstone — that absolutely nothing short of death could ever come between them, and fuck, even that didn’t stick. And he thinks Bucky might be getting there, the way a slow, tremulous smile spreads across his face, a flush high on his cheeks that does things to Steve’s heart.

“I love you.”

Steve’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, automatic, ducking his head down to press into Bucky’s neck, the fabric of his worn t-shirt soft against Steve’s cheek. It’s far from the first time either of them have said it, but Steve still gets so giddy over it, knowing he gets to have this, have Bucky, to hold and kiss and adore this man in his arms for as long as they’re both alive… it’s heady, and something Steve doesn’t want to take for granted, not even for a second. The road they took to get here was too brutal for Steve not to be damn grateful for every moment they have together.

Which means he doesn’t mind the teasing they get from the rest of the team, the not-so-sly remarks and gratuitous eye rolls that Sam and Natasha are so fond of, the downright lewd shit that gets thrown right back in Tony’s face when Bucky reminds them all that neither of them are innocent grandpas.

It’s all part of getting to love Bucky the way he deserves, the way he’s always and will always deserve, and if there’s one thing about the future that Steve unequivocally loves, it’s that he can be as open as he wants about just how much he loves Bucky. And, if people do have a problem with it, Steve can kick their asses — mostly over Twitter, but still. He’s a fan.

“Love you too, Buck.”

Bucky hums, content, and readjusts so that Steve is mostly laying flat on top of him, the both of them stretched out across the couch. He snags the blanket from where it’s half-spilled onto the floor, draping it over Steve enough that it covers the majority of their bodies. Steve snuggles in, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s back, giving him a gentle squeeze to show his appreciation.

He’s all but forgotten the phantom cold that drove him out here in the first place.

“Wanna try going back to sleep?” Bucky murmurs, rubbing circles into Steve’s back.

“Nah. You’re still gonna be here, don’t wanna sleep alone.”

“Mm, fair point. You just gonna lay here, then?”

He could, Bucky won’t protest his weight or the company. “Yeah. Right where I wanna be. You could read to me, though?”

“I’m in the middle of the book, Rogers, you won’t have any clue what’s going on.”

“Just like the sound of your voice, Buck. It’s soothing,” Steve argues, and he’s slurring his words a little, he knows, but he doesn’t care and Bucky doesn’t call him out on it. “Read to me?”

He feels the rumble of Bucky’s laughter in his own chest, pressed right up against him, then the shift of the couch as Bucky grabs his book from the floor and braces it against the dip in Steve’s spine so he can read.

And yeah, Bucky’s right — Steve couldn’t tell you a thing about what’s happening in the book right now (there are gods and monsters and quippy teenagers, but none of it settles quite right in his brain, none of it takes any recognizable shape) but he couldn’t be happier regardless.

Turns out it’s not so bad of a night after all.

#stucky #stevebucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky fanfic #fanfic #my fic

48 notes · View notes

many-gay-magpies · 4 years

Text

{The Red Wall}

---

In my house, there is a red wall.

It was there when we moved in— a stark contrast against all the other walls in the house, all monochrome shades of beiges, taupes, and greys, achingly plain compared to the blood red wall separating the kitchen and dining room.

Of course, there was nothing wrong with plain— plain was good, my mother said. Like a blank canvas. Nothing much clashed with beige. There was quite a lot, however, that could clash with red.

My mother always talked about painting over the wall; Making it something teal or blue-ish and all the surrounding walls a warmer shade of beige. She talked about it often, every night after work, but she never did.

One day, one of my mother's friends came over, one who worked in magic; The kind of magic that still exists in the smallest ways yet no one believes that it does, too stuck on it being fantasy. He came to visit; Said there was some negative energy in the house— something leftover, like the remnants of something which didn't cause harm any longer. And as he spoke, I couldn't help but glance at the red wall.

There was something jarring about it. It felt like more than just it's blood red-ness stark against the muted greige of the room, more than just the way my mother would always highlight it, when talking about what in the house she would paint, when she wasn't so tired from work anymore.

Sometimes my parents would go on errands, and I would be alone in the house— I was old enough, they trust me and I trust myself. If it's in the mornings (or any time when I'm hungry, really), I'll heat up something from the fridge or freezer, leftovers or one of those bland meals the school gives us which I shower too much in salt or pepper.

One of those nights, when I was alone, I found myself stopping beside the wall, looking up at it silently for a few minutes. Something slightly enthralling about it.

"Hello," I said to the wall; Then felt incredibly stupid about it right after and longed to bash my head into it out of shame.

It's okay, I rationalized with myself— No one is home. No one saw you say 'hello' to a completely inanimate wall. Just pretend you were joking around and you'll be fine.

That night, I dreamt of a voice, whispering a 'hello' into my ears as sweet as honey.

The wall began to grow on my mother after a time. Me, too; My father, who was colorblind and not too focussed on such things as wall color anyway, never gave it much thought. My mother and I agreed that the deep bloody burgundy was a sort of nice color, and it went well with all the various ornaments we had stacked against it, the golden-stained buffet and the bronze-edged mirror and the little teal candle holder made of abalone.

Although any time I mentioned liking the wall, becoming accustomed to it, she would simply say, "No, I do want to paint it, soon. We should paint it, soon." But there was less force in her voice each time.

Another time I looked at the wall and said 'hi', quietly, in my mind— No one could hear me, then. Just myself; And even then I could play it off as another one of those stray, silly little thoughts I liked having.

That night I slept better than I had the whole month. Perhaps red walls like to be talked to.

On another one of those alone nights, I was sitting at the dining room table, eating, when I noticed a change in the wall. It was smooth— smooth all over. It shined, not like paint, not like it had, because dry paint wasn't supposed to shine, to shimmer like that.

The wall was rippling; Like a sideways lake someone had dipped a finger in, like a sheer veil over a bride's face, like deep red silk in the wind. And then just as it had resembles water, out from the water came a hand, then a face and then long, silky red hair the same as the color of the wall and then a whole person after that.

I wasn't as surprised as I probably should have been, by the woman of blood and porcelain and ebony black eyes that had just emerged from the red wall.

"Hello," I said, again, and she smiled; a melancholic sort of thing, on lips more rosy pink than bloody red. There were little red teardrops beneath her eyes; Like teardrops painted onto a clown's face with face paint.

"Hello." Honey-sweet, like in my dream.

"Why are you here?"

"To protect," she said simply.

"What from?"

She shook her head. "In time," She said. So I nodded. In time. It made sense.

I said nothing more and neither did she. She stayed, leaning out of the wall, for a while, before slipping away; The red slowly turning from a rippling mirror texture back into solid paint, back into nothing much surprising or unordinary, aside from the starkness of blood-coloring against boring beige.

Curiosity of the red woman plagued me for more than a week, so one night in the middle of the night I crept downstairs in my pajamas, pulled up one of the dining chairs to the red wall and sat in it with my knees up to my chest. I drew little things into the dark red paint, little hearts and swirls and doodles of eyes I could see with nothing but my fingertips.

Again the wall changed from paint to ripples, and again she came from it, pushing through the red like silk curtains.

It was hard to see her, in the dark— I hadn't turned on any lights. But still her skin illuminated under the palest bit of moonlight coming in from the outside window.

"What do you protect from?" I asked, leaning the side of my head against the wall.

"Nothing," she said quietly. "Nothing, now."

I nodded; Understanding in some way I wasn't entirely sure of, but didn't protest.

"Is whatever it was you protected from... gone?"

I thought I saw her nod in the dark. I may have. Nonetheless she spoke no more. I wondered if she had a limit, on what words she could speak per night; Or if she simply got tired after saying a few.

I didn't mind the silence that followed, though. Words could be tiring.

The woman came down to sit atop the gold-stained buffet. Her knees were pressed to her chest, like mine, her arms wrapped around them. I thought she looked smaller, in the dark. Less powerful, more childlike.

That in itself felt like a powerful thing.

"Goodbye," I found myself whispering, when she slipped back beneath her watery curtains again. Then I went up and slipped drowsily between my own.

"My mom is going to paint this wall," I said to her, the next time I saw her.

The woman rested dangling above the doorway between the kitchen and dining room that night— sitting atop the doorframe as if it, in it's white-painted glory, didn't have the same rippling effects as the blood red wall she had emerged from. It probably didn't; acting more like a chair of sorts, from which her porcelain legs swung to and fro beneath her, little drips of red falling from her dress and disappearing the second they hit the floor.

"Oh," she said, and I thought she looked sort of sad.

"Will you go away, when she does?" I asked her.

A nod. I found myself a bit sad about it too, somehow; about this being who was looking more and more like a young girl and yes like a woman as the nights passed by, or perhaps that was just my changing perception of her.

"Oh," I answered, quiet, because I still wasn't entirely sure what to say to a girl that had come out of a wall. "Well," I was again sitting in one of the kitchen chairs with my knees to my chest, but still at the table, this time, and facing the white doorway she dangled from. "She probably won't do it for a while. She's tired. From work. So, you'll... stay here a little longer."

A soft smile came to her rosy lips, "That's good."

I learned more things, in time. I learned that the people who owned the house before us had been trying to protect themselves from something, and created her for the purpose; I learned that when they moved, they had just left her there, like a family leaving a puppy behind in an alleyway when they no longer wanted to care for it.

Of course, I knew things were much more complicated than that. A red-clothed protector spirit was quite a bit different from an abandoned puppy. Sometimes, though— sometimes I looked into her eyes and I wasn't as convinced.

The next week, she told me she didn't want to leave.

I tried to think of ways to get my mother not to paint over the red wall, or ways to delay it, at least; although her work exhaustion did that pretty well on it's own. But when it came down to it, the wall would be painted, one way or another, and I, a person vastly avoidant of any form of confrontation, had no way of stopping it.

"It's okay," she said in a whisper one night, like all the others, us both sitting in the dining room together, me in my pajamas and her sitting on the doorframe in her red gown. "It's okay, I can go. I'm not needed here anymore." I'm useless.

Some days, when I had presentations for class, or when would lay awake at night, anxiety pulsing in my veins about every possible situation, I would be overcome with this feeling of warmth; of red.

Weeks passed. The red wall became a staple of comfort, like a deep burgundy blanket draping over me and snuffing out all the little candleflames of doubt, not really a medication for the anxiety but something that made the weight a little lighter, the thoughts a little more bearable when they would get so bad I couldn't breath. I would sit, and I would talk, with this protector in the wall who didn't have a name, who was like a lost puppy, a newborn child thrust into the world for a purpose that was so quickly pulled out from under her.

She started appearing less; not coming out of the wall to sit with me as much as she had, although sometimes I still saw a ripple, a faint sheen that was more than paint. I would still sit and talk, be it aloud or in my head, to the red wall; maybe hoping for something to respond again.

I began to wonder if I was a little crazy. Maybe I had imagined it all. Maybe I only dreamt the softer voice that told me 'thank you' and 'goodnight' after I closed my eyes. Maybe I was, indeed, mad.

Although I began to think that maybe that was her exact motivation, when summer came and my mother painted over the red with pastel-y teal and I wasn't as sad about it as I could have been.

---

In my room, there is a red wall.

It was painted a month ago— covering the wall behind the head of my bed, a stark contrast against the creamy beige surrounding although it is nice, somehow, too. It feels like a blanket; snuffing out the light from the windows in front of and behind me when it gets to bright, holding me in warmth when the winter gets frigid and we don't bother to direct the heater up onto my floor of the house because I've always preferred to sleep in the cold.

My mother was curious, at first, about my request to paint a wall red, as red had never been one of my favorite colors, but she didn't protest— and so now, in my room, there is a red wall.

#magpie writes #so i accidentally deleted this but here u go lmao #creative writing

49 notes · View notes

maxdark158 · 5 years

Text

Daminette Soulmate AU

Okay so when I talked about this with @chloe-bourgeois-is-big-gay @mindfulmagics and @2sunchild2 yesterday we went through a scenario where Marinette went to Gotham so I thought WELL WHAT ABOUT THE OTHER WAY AROUND which was mostly inspired by @let-me-perish ‘s Alternate Beginnings au

I am NOT writing more of this, but anyone else is open to continuing it for me in whatever way they want! Make it a collab!

@realrandomposts @ozmav

Enjoy

oooOOOooo

Soulmates are a thing in this world! Damian isn’t sure why that has to be a stated fact, but they are real. The majority of people have soulmates and that is as much of a fact as is the fact that he doesn’t have one.

Well, Grayson says not to lose hope but Damian doesn’t think he’s missing out on anything anyway. He doesn’t care that he doesn’t have some random stranger’s name on his body Grayson does, and he couldn’t understand it until he met the Tamaranean himself, he is not colorblind Todd is, but he hates it writing on his skin bears no results Drake is always writing on his skin, he and his soulmate good friends despite never meeting, he has no marks that will light up when he and a soulmate would first touch Father’s was on his chest somewhere and it lit up before Damian knew of him, he sometimes wonders who else shares it and he doesn’t feel any pain belonging to another person he and his father had been battling Poison Ivy when her soulbond was revealed by a bloody nose neither of them gave her, though he noticed how her and Harley’s injuries always matched the other after that.

Given that the only other soulbond is incredibly rare, Damian feels safe to assume that he simply does not have one. After all, hearing the thoughts of his soulmate would be a headache – both literally and metaphorically.

oooOOOooo

His class was on a trip to France. Paris, France to be more specific. A plagued with supervillains, much like Gotham. Of course, the mayor made sure to remind everyone that the villains were harmless – he likely didn’t want tourists to stop going.

Which is what, Damian realized, he and his classmates were. Tourists.

Well, sort of. They were actually part of an exchange program that all students who spoke French got to participate in. For one month, they would go to the highest-ranking high school in the area – the same one the Mayor’s daughter went to. Then they’d return to Gotham and write essays in French, and depending on the score they could opt out of finals for any other language classes they took.

Damian didn’t really care for the skipping finals part, and was originally planning to sit it out the trip. But Father insisted he go. Something about living life. And monitoring the situation in Paris to see if it needed any intervention. But living life too. For a month.

They had recently landed in the city of love ugh, gross and he and his classmates were at the hotel now. It was the mayor’s hotel, a lavish one at that. Well, appearing to be lavish, but Damian knew enough to know what was a good knock off and what was real when it came to expensive things. He’s a Wayne after all.

“We get our own rooms?” His classmate Charlette “Scar” Gamble sounded surprised. Damian was too. Their trip may only have fourteen students but even he expected to share rooms.

“Well we have three young men and eleven young women on this trip, and we wouldn’t be able to evenly have roommates, so single-use rooms were the best option.”

Damian saw Scar’s shoulders relax. He was glad their school was open to her situation and didn’t make her share with one of the boys. They weren’t friends exactly, but he didn’t hate her company.

Suddenly, a white-hot and burning pain hit him. He grabbed his head, lips pressed tightly together so he didn’t scream. All he could hear was ringing, high pitched like when someone dropped a microphone on full volume. His vision was spotty.

Oh kwami, that hurt. Ugh. I need to focus on this akuma!

What the hell was going on? Why was there a voice in his head? And why was it French?

Focus on the akuma! It’s probably doing this to you, it’ll go away as soon as you’re done, then you can finish your homewor-

Whatever just happened, it fizzled out. Damian blinked, the pain was gone just as quickly as it had arrived.

“Damian?” He looked up to see Scar holding him by the shoulders. “You okay?”

It struck him suddenly when his frie- acquaintance was shaking him down for an answer. The girl he heard in his head – those were thoughts.

He was part of the 3% that had a thought sharing soulmate.

oooOOOooo

“So are you going to lie to me like you lied to Miss Olivander?” Scar and Damian were sitting in the lobby, away from the mess of excited classmates that had taken over their section of rooms.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Damian replied, trying not to sound too stiff. He was on google, searching for everything he could about thought sharing soulmates. Apparently, there was always a distance limit, usually around 20 feet.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Scar roll hers. “You’re my friend Damian. You can tell me! Though if you want me to butt out, say the word and I will.”

Damian turned to her. “Friend? I didn’t know we were friends.”

He panicked for a moment, worried he upset Scar but she just scoffed. “You’re the first person I told that I was a girl and you think we aren’t friends?”

“I thought it was just because I can keep secrets,” Damian grumbled back. So he’s a little socially inept, sue him!

“We eat lunch together often.”

“I thought it was because the asshats wouldn’t mess with you when you sat with me!”

“You helped me dye my hair and found hair dye that matched the trans and lesbian flag.”

Damian paused. “Okay so I probably should have connected the dots.”

“Yeah,” Scar was grinning. “You should have.”

Damian rolled his eyes.

“That doesn’t answer my question though,” Scar poked him in the shoulder. “What happened to you? Everyone was super freaked out.”

He pursed his lips. “My soulmate connection formed.”

Scar’s mouth dropped open. “Really? You have a thought share connection? I thought you didn’t have a soulmate!”

“I thought so too,” he replied dryly. “But it appears I was wrong.”

“Your soulmate is in Paris,” Scar giggled. “Literally the city of love!”

Damian made a face at that, and Scarlett laughed more.

oooOOOooo

Damian didn’t tell his father about his soulmate connection, resolving to figure it out on his own or leaving it alone. He didn’t want to have attachments like a soulmate connection to weighing him down, the thought scared him. But he couldn’t deny his curiosity.

If he heard her thoughts again, Damian would investigate.

Unfortunately, his fri- acqu- friend Scar declared that she wanted him to be happy and she would help him search for his mystery soulmate.

Damian was just glad she didn’t declare that in front of his other classmates.

Today they were heading to Lycee Francois Dupont. Seven of them would join one class, and seven of them would join the other. He and Scar both got Mlle Bustier.

When they arrived, Damian noticed that an Italian girl was outside the in the courtyard surrounded by her peers. She seemed to be crying about something, but Damian didn’t really care.

They went to the class early, the teacher settling them into their seats. There were a lot more than a typical French room, she explained, to accommodate all of them.

Damian was caring less and less as time went on.

Soon other students, this time ones who went to the school full-time, began to trickle in. A girl with curly red hair was showing a boy with a red baseball cap a video on her phone. A small blonde girl and a tall dark-haired girl were talking quietly to a large boy and another small blonde girl. And the Italian girl from earlier was approaching them-

Wait why was she approaching them?

“Hello,” her voice sounded sickly sweet, and Damian pursed his lips, “I was wondering if any of you could tell me about my Damiboo? He leaves so much out of his letters to me and I know you go to school with him!”

He blinked. He opened his mouth to say something. Scar beat him to it.

“What do you mean, Damiboo?” She asked.

“Oh, did he not tell you?” she put a hand to her mouth in surprise. “My name is Lila Rossi. Damian Wayne is my soulmate! His name is along my spine and mine on his thigh.”

Scarlett narrowed her eyes. “Bull.”

Rossi blinked. “Wh-what?”

“Bull,” Damian repeated. “Don’t you know? Damian Wayne doesn’t have a soulmate. He’s said so in many interviews.”

The girl did a dramatic sigh. “He must be lying to protect my identity! I can understand, but it still hurts.” She looked at them, the fakest of fake tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry for bothering you. I just wanted to know how my darling is doing.”

“You should be sorry,” Scar bit out.

The girl seemed shocked that her tearful act didn’t work. Before she could attempt to further guilt trip them, Mlle Bustier asked them all to go to their seats for roll call.

“She’s a liar,” Scar hissed once Rossi was out of earshot.

“No kidding,” Damian grumbled. “She attempted to lie about me but didn’t even recognize me?”

“Stupid, truly, she is,” Scar snickered.

“It appears Marinette is late again,” Mlle. Bustier sighed.

The French class seemed to mumble among themselves. The things they said were all derogatory and rude. Damian wondered why an entire class was ganged up on a single student.

It was then that Damian felt... Something. It was like a warmness in his head without any physical heat. It was… odd, to say the least. But at least there was no pain this time.

-late I’m late I’m so late! Ugh, I should have just not done some homework and slept more, I’m so-

Late?

Yeah! Wait who are you?

I could ask you the same question, person in my head

YOU’RE in MY head tho- wait are you my soulmate?

It would appear so. You’re still late.

AAAAAAH I’M LATE

Damian winced at the yelling, which made Scar turn to him. She saw him rubbing his temple, the slight squint, and grinned.

“Is it your soulmate?” she whispered.

Suddenly the door burst open, a girl with blue pigtails and bluer eyes having run through it, though she didn’t seem out of breath.

“Sorry I’m late Mlle!” She exclaimed.

She’s going to hate me if she already doesn’t like the rest of them hate me.

Why do they hate you?

Not important. How are you still within six meters of me?

20 feet

Shut up American- wait you’re American

“Marinette,” Mlle Bustier sighed. “In case you haven’t paid attention in my class,” giggled erupted from the French students.

As usual, they all hate me

I’m not laughing

Wait you’re seeing this? Ugh that’s worse

“In case you haven’t paid attention in my class,” Mlle Bustier repeated herself. “Students from Gotham Academy are spending a month at this school as an exchange program. Please take your seat.”

So I guess you’re one of the Gotham students?

Yes. I assume you’re the late girl, Marinette?

Gee, how’d you figure that out. But seriously I can tell you’re a guy from your voice and they’re only two guys in here that are American-

“Is your soulmate the cutie with pigtails?” Scar asked. “Because if not, dibs.”

Wait no you can’t call dibs on my soulmate

Who’s calling dibs on me?

Nothing. Stop listening.

No, you.

“You can’t,” he mumbled, and Scar lit up.

“I am going to be the best wing woman on this planet and possibly other ones too!” Scar said just a bit too loudly.

Wait no too loud Scarlett!

So I’m guessing that’s you then?

He looked at Marinette, who met his eyes. She smirked.

Found you.

2K notes · View notes