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gaysindistress · 8 months

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As Good a Reason - two

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

summary: when Brock Rumlow picks a fight he can’t win with the White Wolf, he drags his Snake back. Six years after she ran away, Y/N Rumlow is faced with a choice to make; do as she’s told and kill the White Wolf or overtake her father instead because spite’s as good a reason to take his power?

warnings: mob!Bucky, cursing

word count: 3.1k

Tag list: @cakesandtom @elizacusi-blog @unaxv @hidden-treasures21 @vonalyn

one | series masterlist

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest. The women in the banners are not how Y/N is supposed to look. They are merely for aesthetic purposes and Y/N is written vaguely enough for anyone to see themselves in her.

The city never changed during her six year hiatus. Concrete jungle or whatever Jay Z said, that is how she remembered the city and as the car rolls down the streets, it’s obvious that it’s not going to change.

About the only thing that has changed is how much of an outsider Y/N feels like. This place isn’t her home, it hasn’t been since her father put a bullet in her mom right in the middle of dinner. It probably wasn’t even home for her before then but it’s all she knew. God even Phoenix in all its hot glory felt more like home than the lower east side did.

Victoria has remained eerily quiet ever since they got off the plane. Y/N passed it off as nerves but Niklaus whispered to her that neither daughter had been “home” since that night. Brock had chosen to ship Victoria off to Paris to live with some business partner of his. He said it was good for her to travel but when it was really a ploy to marry her off to a 50 year old white man.

That man ended up dead 366 days after they were married and exactly one day after the prenup ended.

Niklaus, on the other hand, was held prisoner in his childhood home and forced to learn the ins and outs of the family business. Brock needed someone to take over in the event of his early death and being the only son, Niklaus was the natural choice. Brock always wanted it to be Y/N, his youngest and most favorite, but Jasmine ruined that for him.

Either way, Y/N almost immediately decides to shoot the man dead the moment the White Wolf’s death is confirmed. She had thought about this very chance every night for six years but now she’s finally getting the chance. A part of her wants to make him suffer and the other part just wants him gone. Both agree that he needs to be dealt with as soon as possible which means cooperating for the time being.

A tall blonde is driving them and she picks up on a strange vibe the moment he gives her the up and down. Any other time and she would’ve broken his nose but Niklaus guides her away before she can do that.

“That’s Caleb Walker’s son, John,” he whispers to her as they drive.

“THAT’S John?”

Victoria smirks, “He got hot.”

“Jesus,” Y/N snorts, “He got weird and creepy.”

“Whatever. More for me then.”

Niklaus makes a face but drops it before either sister can figure out what it means. Their attention gets turned to John when he announces that they’ve arrived at the Rumlow townhouse. Y/N wants to make a comment about how far her father has fallen since she’s left and almost does although the dark presence of the man at the butt of the comment overwhelms her.

Standing on stairs is Brock and his men, all dressed like they stepped out of Call of Duty or some other war video game that teenage boys play. Another tall blonde that rubs her the wrong way flanks her father but he’s dressed alarmingly normal in jeans and a Dodgers tee shirt. Y/N points him out to her brother as they get out and he stalls for a second.

“That… that’s uhhh Steve Rogers. He works for the White Wolf.”

“Don’t tell me that he’s a glorified babysitter.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that.”

Just as they get into ear shot, they stop whispering to each other and greet everyone. Victoria makes a show of greeting Brock who can’t be bothered to even acknowledge her and keeps his whole attention on Y/N.

“There’s my baby girl,” he says with too much gusto and squeezes her too tightly in a bear hug.

She pushes against him as hard as she can to which he utters a warning into her ear of play nice or else. He gives her a fake smile when he releases her and introduces her to Steve who gently shakes her hand.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Ms. Juárez. I’ve heard so much about you.” Brock stiffens at the last name and corrects Steve.

“Sorry, Ms. Rumlow.”

After taking her hand back and exchanging pleasantries, she heads inside in the direction that she saw Victoria go. Niklaus is not far behind but he’s stopped by John who whispers something in his ear and lets him go. His face is a shade paler when he catches up to them however he refuses to say what happened. Victoria is content to unpack her own bags while Y/N helps her and eyes their brother with concern. He occasionally makes eye contact with her only to quickly break it and find lint on his pants to pick off.

Dinner rolls around and Brock requests that all three join him. Flashbacks break the surface and take over Y/N’s mind when she first sits down. Like a true villain, her father had the same dinner made from that night with the same seating so that they can relive possibly the worst night of her life. He smiles at her discomfort and preys on it like a vampire, finding delight in her shivers. As he drains her of her will to cooperate, he spills the details of his plan to kill the White Wolf.

There will be a party on Saturday that the White Wolf will be at. Niklaus and Victoria are to find and isolate him so that Y/N can deliver the kill shot.

Simple enough but still she finds every flaw in it.

Won’t he be suspicious?

If he’s going to be there, won’t he have security?

How is Y/N supposed to kill him?

Why does this “simple” plan need the Snake?

Brock slams his hand on the table and stops her line of questioning, saying, “Because your brother and sister are too fucking stupid to do it. I’ve already tried them and that’s how we got into this position in the first place. I need you to do it.”

“Weren’t you the one who told me to never reveal all of my cards?” Y/N asks as she takes a drink of her wine.

Brock’s nostrils flare and he squeezes his glass so hard it threatens to break, “I swear to god, Y/N.”

“You must be really desperate.”

“Y/N.”

She takes another sip of wine, “Only a truly desperate man would turn to his enemy for help.”

“You’re not my enemy. You’re my daughter even if your mother was a whore and a liar.”

That strikes a cord.

“Say one more thing about her and I will kill you right now.”

Brock laughs in her face, “I’d like to see you try.”

When she doesn’t answer, he continues on explaining his plan for the party. Victoria and Niklaus are listening enough for Y/N to drown everything out.

She squeezes her eyes shut and repeats a mantra to herself;

He’s next.

She opens her eyes, inhales deeply, exhales, and takes a sip of her wine.

“Is there a dress code for this party?”

Steve slides into his car and calls the White Wolf the moment the door closes.

“What do you got for me?” he asks when he answers the phone.

“She hates him with a burning passion. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that she’s here plotting his death, not yours.”

The other man chuckles, “That so?”

“How much did Sam tell you about her mom,” Steve pauses as he searches through his texts for the name, “Jasmine Rumlow?”

“Enough to know that it wouldn’t surprise me if Brock turns up dead tomorrow morning. Did you get anything else?”

“She’s going to be the key to taking out his operation. He has a soft spot for her so we can exploit that but it might be easier to exploit hers, push her to help us.”

The White Wolf sighs and takes a moment to think before answering, “Do we know what that is or are you expecting me to figure it out when she’s pointing a gun at me?”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Is that your way of saying that I need to be back here tomorrow?” “And the day after that. Don’t let her leave your sight until you know what her weaknesses are. Even if she hates mornings, I want to know everything.”

“Copy that.”

Growing up with Caleb Walker at Brock’s side meant that Y/N did know his son, John but he stayed out of their fathers’ ways. Maybe it was his parents wanting to protect him or maybe it was that he knew from a young age what a monster Brock was. Either way he failed whoever wanted to protect him.

Working in the same role as his father, John never leaves Brock’s side and it’s unnerving to Y/N. When Brock moved, John moved. When Brock breathed, John breathed. When Brock tried to assert dominance over Y/N, John did the same. The most recent example of this is how he grips at her arm and nearly throws her through her bedroom door after she got caught sneaking back into the house.

“What were you thinking?” he demands, his voice bouncing off the walls and echoing deep into her ears.

Y/N shakes off his hand and voice as she walks towards her bed. She drops herself down and starts to take off her shoes which angers him even more. His question rings out again but she doesn’t care to answer it. He asks for a third time and she stops what she’s doing, straightens up, and half turns to him.

“I’ll answer you when you stop yelling at me.”

He scoffs and puts his hands on his hips, “I don’t have time for this.”

“And I have all the time in the world.”

Shaking his head, he looks to the ground and takes a deep breath, “Fine.”

Y/N goes back to untying her shoes and kicks them off when he finds the peace inside himself to ask the question again. “I won’t be a prisoner while I’m here. Brock might tell you differently but what I’m telling you is to take the presidency; I can and will leave whenever I want. If the White Wolf is really that big of a threat, then I’ll check in with you but no one is going to track, follow, or stalk me.”

John nods along even though deep down it’s painful to be taking orders from her.

“Since the stupid party has a dress code, Vic, Niklaus, and I will be going shopping. If I see anyone tailing us, I will be shooting out their tires and you,” she pauses to turn and look at him, “will get the brunt of my wrath, understood?” John sniffs aggressively but nods in understanding nonetheless. Y/N finishes taking her shoes and socks off before going to her closet to change. He doesn’t leave or move, annoying her even more than she already is. She wants to huff at the invasion of privacy but it won’t be her any good. With her luck, he’ll take it as her being hurt or worse; a threat to his manhood. Before she can think of something snarky to say, John speaks up and starts into the nostalgia of her being back. He goes on and on about how he never thought he would see her again and how he always thought that they would end up together.

Pulling a sweatshirt over her head, Y/N stops in the closet entrance and stares blankly at him. He grows uncomfortable and shifts but keeps up with his line of wishful thinking.

“I’m going to stop you right there,” she says, interrupting his tangent about how he had a crush on her growing up, “I don’t care. I don’t want to hear about our childhood from your point of view. I don’t want to hear about how happy you are that I’m back. I don’t want to hear any of it because I don’t care, John. As soon as I’ve outlived my usefulness with the White Wolf or whoever else Brock pissed off, he’ll send me away or kill me and honestly, I’m good with either. I don’t want this life and I never have so please spare me the romantics of it all.”

The door slams almost immediately after she finishes and she lets out a deep sigh. Of course it would take crushing his dreams of them being endgame to get him to leave. On the bright side, maybe he won’t bother her anymore or it could go the other way and he’ll be stuck to her like glue.

Y/N chooses to not think about it anymore and falls onto her back on her bed, allowing the comfort of the blankets to engulf her. Time slips away from her as she lets her worries and stress disappear even if for a minute or two. Nothing is ever really stressful free for her, not when her father is still alive and controlling her life.

There had been a time, maybe two years into living in Phoenix, did she think that it would be possible to be free form Brock. Maria and her were in the middle of moving from their first tiny apartment to the one she left behind when the letter showed up. It was simple and with no address. All the letter said was “Don’t get comfortable.” Maria hid it as soon as she found it and tried her hardest to hide any fears that it brought it up but it only worked for a few months after that. A car crash is what took Maria but Y/N always knew that it was more than that; a planned attack or something like that. In hindsight, it could’ve been this White Wolf and not Brock but that would mean that he’s been pulling the strings for far longer than she knew or wanted to admit.

Her phone rings on the nightstand, drawing her back to reality and she groans as she grabs it. There’s no caller ID so she’s hestiaant to answer and lets it go to voicemail. Dropping herself back onto her bed, she doesn’t get a second to enjoy it because it starts ringing again. No caller ID flashes once more and she figures that if she doesn’t answer it now, whoever it is will keep calling all night long.

“What do you want?” “No hello?” a man’s voice comes through, harsh and thick but with an undertone of something she can’t place.

“What do you want?” “Open your curtain.”

She closes her eyes in annoyance, “no. You have three seconds to tell me what you want before I hang up.”

“Assuming your father is going to be the most predictable thing and try to pull something at the party, I’m having a dress delivered for you to wear. Something a little different from those cargo pants you wear everyday.”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say this is the White Wolf asshole that Brock is obsessed with.”

He chuckles, deep and profound, “Ouch. I don’t think I’m an asshole.”

“Well,” Y/N starts as she sits up and pushes the curtain back to peer out the window, “if the shoe fits.”

Across the street is a blacked out car however she can only assume that the man on the phone is sitting in it. Her assumption is correct. The passenger window rolls down and a dark haired man waves at her. From this distance she can’t make out too many details but she can see the speckles of facial hair and penetrating eyes.

“I fully expect you to be wearing my dress and if you’re not, I’ll be very upset, little snake.”

“I’ll try but no promises.”

“Oh and it goes without saying, don’t tell your father we talked.”

Y/N hangs up without answering and the man continues to stare up at her as another man gets out of the car with a big black box in hand. He puts it down in front of their gate and returns to his car. The White Wolf gives her a grin to match his name and the two drive away.

That box sits in her closet for almost three days before she opens it. The decision comes after a few failed shopping trips and with her returning with one dress she only got because Victoria didn’t want to leave it at the store. Y/N and Niklaus argued with her for a solid 45 minutes about how stupid it was to buy a dress only because you don’t want someone else to have it.

Of course her response was that she’ll find another time to wear it if Y/N choose something else. The shimmery emerald green material shines too much and the deep front v cuts too low for her liking hence why she’s sitting in her closet with the box in front of her. She’s been staring at it for probably 15 minutes now and the looming pressure of the party tomorrow is starting to get to her. Aside from the dress being generally not something she would wear, it feels impractical to wear if she’s going to complete a mission.

Curiosity gets the better of her logic and she’s tearing into the box before she knows it. In the white tissue paper lies a simple black dress. No jewels or gems, no elaborate hems, or fancy material. Pulling out the dress, she gets a better look at the floor length dress that will no doubt hug her figure. The boat neck line provides the cover that her sister’s dress lacks and she quickly shoves the dress back into its box.

“No, no. no,” she whispers to herself as she drums her fingers against the lid, “I’m not wearing it. I can’t. I won't.”

It calls to her, chanting her name from beneath her hand.

She slowly reopens it, letting her hands drift over the fabric as she battles with herself about it, “No I can’t wear this. I mean…. I could. It’s more practical. I could probably fight in it. It’d be easier…”

She trails off in her internal line of arguing as she feels its softness.

“I’ll just try it on first.”

Famous last words.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #mob au #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes imagine #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes reader insert #marvel #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #winter soldier imagine #as good a reason bucky barnes

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girlsgutsandgore · 7 months

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Writing Communities: Toxicity, Requests, and A Cesspit of Minors

PLEASE READ IF YOU'RE A READER OR WRITER!

I've never made a Tumblr post before and I doubt anyone will see this, so I'm going to rant into the void. This came about after a fanfiction writer I dearly loved, Muzanswaifu, was in a nightmare of a community (not sure if I should tag her). I've noticed that, among fanfic writers, being a writer on this website can be hell, something that seems to be predominately created by a disconnect between the writers and their audience.

While I've never posted any piece of fanfiction myself to Tumblr, I have been a long-time user of this website and regularly follow writers. I've watched far too many writers quit or abandon their accounts because of the pressure they face to regularly post or to write for a certain audience/genre.

Statistically speaking, you'd think that most people would have the decency to realize that some people might not be comfortable writing certain things or that if you're not comfortable with it, leave it alone (or report it if it involves legal issues, bullying, harassment, etc). The Tumblr user base is primarily made up of people between the ages of 18-34, give or take. Of course, there will always be minors in just about any space, but knowing that the majority of Tumblr users are within the 18-34 age range makes things... sad. If you're actively sending death threats to someone because they wrong canon x OC smut, then... why do you have that much time?

Then there's bullying someone because you don't like what they're writing about. Most writing blogs tend to have rules, the basic dos and don'ts when it comes to a blog. Those rules are there for a reason. They aren't there as a suggestion of what the writer will/won't do, they're firm and set in stone unless the writer makes a post stating otherwise. Way too many people ignore rules when making a request or when they go to DM the writer. Please, read the rules before submitting anything to the writer. I've seem people answer some really weird requests on this website/app.

On a similar note to that: content warnings. Again, some people will zoom right past that and then get disgusted by what they read. Like all things on your average writing blog, the content warnings are there for a reason. If you go on reading the content after reading the warnings, then you're responsible for the outcome. You willingly signed up to read this content, you made the conscious choice to interact with it. If it makes you uncomfortable, then you have to deal with that. There's a lot of weird or gross things on this website, so it's best to ignore it or report it if it's dealing with illegal content.

That leads me to my next issue: minors. Even though porn is no longer a thing on Tumblr (sort of), there's still a lot of explicit material, especially in the fanfic community. It's hard to stop minors from reading it when the only way to stop them is the "read more" button in most situations. What minors don't seem to realize is that 18+ content isn't for them. I can't stop you from reading it, but you shouldn't be interacting with it more than the basic like and/or reblog. Sending harassment to a writer makes you look exactly like what you are: a child. You lack the maturity and knowledge to know what a real job is like or how stressful college/university is.

With life comes responsibilities. One of the things that Muzanswaifu points out on her farewell post(?) is how she got a lot of hate for running a Discord server and people thinking she wasn't active enough. Discord is confusing, really damn confusing, especially when you're trying to run an entire server with dozens and dozens of people while warding off minors. Her main job isn't to make sure the Discord is seamless and aesthetically pleasing or to answer every demand someone has, and this applies to any writer or artist with a Discord. That should be a place where people can share ideas, writings, art, or random thoughts. If you have beef, then take it out of the server into somewhere private. Sure, free entertainment is fun, but it isn't fun when you start dragging in other people to pick sides and get upset because they don't want to pick.

One of the big issues I also see fought over is whether a writer writes for xFem, xMale, or xGN content when it comes to reader content. I've seen a lot of complaints that [Writer] should write for [gender/sex] because it's what someone in their audience wants to see. Just because you want to see it doesn't mean that the writer has to cater to your specifications. Frankly, they might not be comfortable with it or know how to. I know as a Genderfluid AFAB person, I would probably suck at writing xMale content and, while I certainly can practice, I'd like to stick to what I know. There are other writers or communities where you can find the kind of content you want. Hell, here's a wild idea: you write it. If you can harass and bully someone else, then you sure as hell have the time to write the kind of content you want.

As for requests, it's a similar situation to what I mentioned above. Most writers have actual lives, like school, work, or simply hanging out with friends. They don't spend every waking moment writing something you asked for to deliver. This content is free. While it might be a priority if it's a commission, it sure as hell isn't if you're going to whine and yap about it when it's been a week since you asked for something. Some writers will take months until they post another chapter or a fic. Life gets hectic and it's not predictable! The health of the writers should take the forefront, so if writing is bringing them no joy or is burning them out, then it's time for them to go on hiatus. It's a normal and expected process.

This post is probably incoherent and sounds like the angry ramblings of a nobody who'll get no traction on their post. I wrote this in, like, an hour and I can't think right now. Any comments/advice to add would be appreciated if there is anything. All I ask is that there's a better community for writers on this app. Since I've never written anything other than this post, I only know the bare minimum of what these people go through. I might make a part two or something of this to rant, but for now, I have calc homework I need to do.

To any writers/artists out there who want someone to write to, my DMs should be open. I'm a very open listener. If Muzanswaifu or any writers in the KNY fandom see this, DM me for a Discord server I'm in. It's centered around Renkaza but we mostly do whatever on there. It's the least toxic Discord server imaginable and people there are super nice. Also, free beta readers and a fanfic book club.

If anyone sends me hate for this, I'm framing it (deadass). You can yell at me all you want for supporting [insert taboo topic] when I'm not. Just stop bullying people online and maybe focus more on yourself. If you're taking out your anger on a faceless person possibly hundreds of miles away over an attempt to call out toxicity, then you've got too much time to think.

Anyway, that was GGG, I'm out (HOW TF DO THESE TAGS WORK SOMEONE HELP ME).

#fanfic #demon slayer #kny #yandere #smut #reader insert #gn reader #male reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader

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adamjagger · 2 years

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Geissele rifle build pt2

All right guys so this weeks post is going to be a part two for my geissele rifle build. I was able to take it out today and put about 300 rounds through it. Long story short the gun ran flawlessly with no malfunctions no hiccups or anything like that.

So starting off the first thing I had to do was zero the odg eotech xps2 that I picked up from brownells last week. I ended up deciding on doing a 36 yard zero that way all my holds out to 300 yards all fall into a 5 1/2 inch vertical area. To me optics zeroing is completely up to the end-user. So your best bet is to get online look around see what kind of options there are figure out what works best for you and just go and do it. If for some reason you don’t like whatever way you did it that’s the beauty of it is you can go ahead and change it with no issues.

One of the things that I really like about this rifle is not only is it extremely aesthetically pleasing but so far it has been a very soft shooting and very smooth cycling system. Yes the muzzle device is a sure fire war comp so that definitely helps recoil mitigation and keeps the rifle flat. The main reason I even picked up that muzzle device from brownells was pretty much just as a suppressor host. Hopefully by next summer this rifle will have a surefire socom RC2 5.56 can on it.

Some of the little things that I noticed were first the Arisaka finger stop that I have on this is absolutely perfect and exactly what I was looking for. It’s not too big but it’s also not too small it makes a great indexing point for your hand not only on the front of the finger stop for your normal C clamp hold. But also when shooting from a barrier or off of a tree or anything like that I noticed using the back of the finger stop with my thumb or the web between your thumb and pointer finger while holding the hand guard against say a tree worked really well.

As always the Eotech is one of my favorite sighting solutions. The unity mount brings up the XPS2 to a very comfortable height. The B5 parts also work perfectly as we all know and same with the flat line fiber sling is one of my favorites and I have them on all of my rifles.

The Geissele government two stage trigger is not only my first two stage trigger but my first experience with a two-stage trigger. It definitely took some getting used to but after a very short period of time I see why people like these so much. The first stage is nice to take off the tension and then when you’re ready to shoot you can easily snap into the second stage for a nice clean trigger pull. Definitely excited to get more time on that trigger.

Overall everything has been fantastic with this I’m very excited with how I perform today eventually I will do an update after many many more rounds through it or if anything weird happens with any of the parts on it which I hope does not happen. As for now all these parts I would recommend and if you’re interested in any of this stuff swing over to brownells and start your build.

Happy shooting!

Adam Jagger gun blog #8 11-5-22

#brownells #bureauofpropaganda #gun review #ar 15 rifle #ar 15s #ar15build #ar15porn #edccarry #edccommunity #edcdaily #modlite #surefire #geissele everything #geissele #eotech #unity tactical #arisaka

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maxwell-grant · 3 years

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You have done an (excelent) post on how to reinvent Batman as a Pulp Hero. Do you think you could do one to Superman as well? Or do you think it is impossible to do this with the progenitor of the Super Hero genre without transforming him in a totaly diferent character?

Well, you saying it as impossible only makes it seem ever more tempting of a challenge, but yes, it is a bit harder. I'm gonna link my Batman post here as a reference point.

Partially because Batman's a franchise I've thought extensively about for a long time in regards to what I like about it or how I'd like to approach if given the opportunity, which is not something I can really say for Superman until more recently the Big Blue to start orbiting my brain. I don't have years worth of redesigns or fan concepts saved on my galleries and files to comb through to pick and choose here, and my experience with Superman as a character is considerably different, in some aspects more deeply personal, and not really something I'd like to go into in this blog, at least not now.

Part of the reason why it's harder is also because Batman and Superman have very different relationships with their pulp inspirations. Batman was, ostensibly, a pulp character adapted to comics, a dime-a-dozen Shadow knock-off who picked up and played up diverging traits from other characters and gradually ran with them to gradually forge a unique identity. Superman right from the start was rooted in a much stronger conceptual underpinning: the Sci-Fi Superman and Alien Menace who, instead of being a tragic monster or a tyrannical villain, becomes a costumed adventurer and social crusader. Even the name Super-Man was taken from an early story of Siegel and Shuster about a telepathic villain who ends the story lamenting that he should have used his powers for the good of mankind instead of selfishness. I hesitate to call what Siegel and Shuster were doing “subversive” because that term's picked up a real negative connotation, and it's not like Siegel and Shuster were out to upend their influences (they were pulp aficionados themselves), but rather putting a more positive, new spin on them.

Which is why it also becomes a bit harder to do what I did with Batman and align Superman with some of his pulp-esque inspirations, like John Carter, Flash Gordon or Hugo Danner, without just making it "Superman but he's John Carter", "Superman but it's Flash Gordon", and "Iron Munro / Superman but everything sucks" respectively. It's harder to create a character that wouldn't feel reduntant and derivative at best, and actively contradictory to Superman at worst.

I guess if I had to come up with a "Pulp Hero Superman" take I liked, well first of all I'd have to take steps to distance it from the likes of Tom Strong or Al Ewing's Doc Thunder, those two are as good as it gets in regards to Pulp Supermen. I stipulated for Batman a "No Guns, No Murder, No Service" policy partially to distance my takes on Batman from all the "Pulp Batmen" that just add guns and murder and take Batman back to the barest of basics. Likewise, I'm adding a "No Depowered Science Hero" rule here, which means it's a take that's likely going to veer off a lot more into fantasy and probably enough tampering with Clark's character that it does risk becoming a different character.

Frankly I don't think I'm gonna succeed at doing these without just making it a new character entirely, because with Batman you can get away with just upending the character's aesthetic and setting and even origin and still keep it recognizably Bruce Wayne (in fact Batman does that all the time), which isn't really the case with Superman, who needs those to remain recognizably Superman as he goes through internal changes and character shifts. I guess what I'm gonna do here is more taking the building blocks of Superman/Clark Kent and see a couple new ways I can rearrange them to create a Pulp Superman

Perhaps something we can do is to scale back or recontextualize the "superhero" parts without diminishing Superman's role as a superpowered fantasy character.

One way we can start is by picking on that connection between Superman and the sci-fi supermen/alien monsters of pulps I mentioned earlier and play it up further, to create a Superman who's deeply, deeply alien in a way that no mild-mannered disguise or colorful outfit can really disguise, something so dramatically powerful and alien, that instead you could get tales about the kinds of ensuing changes and ripple effects this has on the world upon the The Super-Man's arrival. And for that I'm gonna have to quote @davidmann95's concept for Joshua Viers' absolutely stunning Superman redesign on the left side of the image above

The red, the goldish-orange and white, the alienness, the angelic, sculpted feeling, the halo, that innocently curious expression: it’s genuinely beautiful. Superman as a redeeming science-angel from beyond our understanding, as much past the uncanny valley of limited human comprehension as a Lovecraftian monster but tuned to the opposite key - you could spend an endless procession of human lifetimes trying and failing to understand this being, but all you’ll ever know for sure is that it is beyond you, and it knows you, and it loves you.

Superdoomsday from Earth 45, healed and transformed into the savior it was originally envisioned as? Some descendant of his, or a future of the man himself? An alien who picked up on a broadcast of Superman from Earth, and so inspired reshaped itself in his image to spread his ‘gospel’ to the stars?

Alternatively, to come back to Earth a little, many, many pulp characters and series were built off the antics and personalities of real people, celebrities getting their own magazines or serials or fictionalized takes on them, so perhaps one way to make a "pulp" take on Superman would be to emphasize a bit more of Superman's real-world roots, trends that inspired his creation directly or indirectly at the time. The Jewish strongman Sigmund Breibart and Shuster's interest in fitness culture, Harold Lloyd's comic persona, the rising "strongman" film genre in the early 20th century, actors Clark Gable and Kent Taylor that supposedly named his secret identity, Clark Kent being a socially-awkward journalist based of Siegel's own school experiences.

Maybe one start to an authentic Pulp Superman, who would still be Superman, would be to just ask the question "What if Superman was a real person and/or a celebrity, and they started making pulp magazines and serials dedicated to him? What would those look like?". You wouldn't even have to restrict it to just a story set in the 1930s, in fact you could even play around with the rise of new mediums over the decades.

This third one is a little closer to some plans I have for my own take on a Superman character, not necessarily what I would do with Superman proper but one of my ideas for a Superman analogue. Superman's a character I'll always associate strongly with childhood and childhood fantasy, and to tap into that I would emphasize the other end of the fiction that influenced Siegel and Shuster: comic strips, in their case specifically Little Nemo and Popeye.

In my case I would bring additional influences from some of the comic strips I personally grew up reading like Monica's Gang and Calvin and Hobbes, and I already talked a bit about Captain Fray in terms of how he’s a Superman character despite being a villain. I guess you could call this one "What if Superman was a public domain comic strip character, stripped of the importance of being the founding figure of a super popular genre or extended universe, and also was kind of ugly?".

He's not "Sloth from the Goonies" ugly, I swear I didn't actually have Sloth in mind when typing out this idea, I've never watched that film nor did I know until now that he actually spends the film in a Superman shirt. That's not really what I'm going for. Visually I was thinking of modeling my take on Superman heavily after Hugo from Street Fighter and his inspiration Andre the Giant, to really emphasize the “circus strongman / freak wrestler” aspect of Superman’s inspiration, particularly in regards to how Hugo’s SFIII version strikes a really great balance in making Hugo ugly and both comedic and fearsome in battle, as well as lovable and even a little dopey (without being outright stupid, like his IV self) in his victory animations and endings.

He's still Superman, he still goes on fantastical adventures to help people, he's still a deeply loving and compassionate soul whose face beams with joy and affection and who's got wonderful eyes and a great smile. It's just that this smile has a couple of mismatched stick-out teeth or some missing ones, and he's got a crooked smile some people take as smug or malicious, he’s got a strongman’s gut instead of a bodybuilder’s abs, his nose is a little busted (maybe he’s had too many crash landings), and his hair is a little wild or greasy, and he doesn't exactly have very good people skills because of how others usually react to him and, y'know, he doesn't get the kind of publicity Superman would get despite doing ostensibly the same things. He’s not deformed, he’s incredibly intelligent and capable, but in comparison to how superheroes are usually allowed to look, he might as well be Bizarro in the public eye.

It becomes a running gag that people tend to assume some nearby fireman or cop was the one who rescued the hundred orphans out of a burning building single-handedly, meanwhile he's getting accosted off-panel by police officers who think he set the building on fire, or think they can bully this weird man dressed funny. He goes to rescue old people in peril and occasionally they yell at him that they don't have any money. He doesn't get asked to lead superhero meetings or teams even though many in the community advocate for just how much he does for the world, he gets censored out of tv broadcasts or group shots (even his face is sometimes pixelated when they do show him), people invite him on talk shows and don't really let him talk or assume they got the wrong guy. He goes to rescue a woman dangling off a building, and then he gets attacked by like three different superhero teams who assume he must have kidnapped the poor damsel. He was the first superhero, he is the strongest of them all still, but he never really gets credit for it, it nor does he even want to. None of this at all stops him or deters him, except for some occasionally funny reactions.

This never really changes for him, he doesn't really earn people's approval nor does he have to, instead the stories, outside of the gags and adventures you’d expect from a comic strip, veer more towards others learning to be less judgmental and him learning ways to better approach people. He isn't any lesser than Superman just because he doesn't look like most people would want him to look and he doesn't have to look like Superman. Really I think we could use more superheroes that don’t look all so uniformly pretty.

Again, probably not a take that would work for Clark proper, but it’s one way I would take a shot at doing Superman with my own

I have other stuff in the works for this character but I'd like to keep them to better work on them for now, but yeah, these are three of my shots at developing a Pulp Superman.

Alternatively here's a fourth idea that's more pulp than all of these: Join up Nicholas Cage with Panos Cosmatos again, or whatever weird indie director he decides to pair up with next, and let them do whatever the hell they want with Superman. Give us Mandy Superman. Superman vs The Color Out of Space. Superman vs Five Nights at Freddy's. Superman’s quest to find THE LAST PIG OF KRYPTON. Anything goes.

#replies tag #dc comics #superman #clark kent #superheroes #comic books #nicholas cage

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zigtheeortega · 3 years

Text

if we meet again

[part one of the again series]

pairing | bryce x mc

word count | 10k

warnings | mentions of sex, innuendos, drinking.

tags | @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @dakotawinchester, @writinghereandthere, @pixelsandkink, @masquerade-reimagined, @choicesarehard, @nerdferatum, @bobbymckenzie, @agentdumortain, @bryceslahela, @lahellacute, @violinet, @zigsnose, @adamdusmortain, @drsobemoji, @choeries, @houserosario, @plasticdodecagon, @noimarocketman (tagged sideblogs instead of main blogs!)

author’s note | so i recently finished the before trilogy of films, and i really wanted to write something based off of it but in a way that would better encapsulate bryce and my mc spencer! part one consists of years 1 - 4, taking place through their undergrad years at university. this is gonna be a bit of a journey so buckle up!

read on ao3! [disclaimer: ao3 version has smut included, not separate.]

•─────────────────•

year one

The ride from the airport to her parents’ home was long and grueling, the slushy ice pelting the windshield barely passing for snow.

It was practically sub-zero outside, a stark difference between the mid seventies weather she’d just left.

Boarding a plane wearing a tank top and layering as she stepped off was a weird experience to say the least. It was like stepping into another world.

The cookie cutter suburbs were nauseatingly bland. Was this really what her parents wanted?

Sure, they were the typical awestruck immigrant family who were obsessed with the American experience, but to be wholly consumed by it? God she never wanted a roundtrip date to come so fast in her life.

They’d closed on the house faster than she could complain about it, but she couldn’t have done much anyways. They’d packed the house up right before she left for her freshman year of college, so the decision didn’t affect her too much.

The slush came down harder, sounding nearly like hail on the roof of her taxi.

She glanced down at her dirty tennis shoes and grimaced – she dreaded having to lug her suitcase from the taxi to her front door.

When it screeched to a stop, she handed the driver a couple bills (leaving a hefty tip, because hey, it was the holidays) and retrieved her things from the trunk.

Backpack slung over one shoulder, suitcase gripped in her right hand, she braced the freezing wet rain.

The walk from the mailbox to the front door was way longer than she remembered. About halfway up the short stairs, she made a crucial mistake. The ball of her foot caught a patch of ice and she tumbled to the ground.

“Ah, fuck,” she grumbled, twisting her body so she was sitting on the stairs. The rain seeped through her jeans, freezing her ass and thighs.

“Hey, miss, you okay?” A voice called from across the lawn.

Her loose hoodie obstructed her vision, so she couldn’t see the man, but she heard his shoes squelch across the grass as he jogged towards her.

“Here, lemme take that,” he said, grabbing her backpack and suitcase before helping her up with his free hand.

She tossed her hood back to catch a glimpse of the kind stranger, and her breath hitched in her throat at the sight of the handsome boy in front of her.

A single dimple appeared on one of his flushed cheeks as he flashed a grin at her, his hair damp from the falling rain. “You good?” He asked again, brown eyes searching hers.

“Uh, yeah, I’m alright. Thanks for coming to help me up,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips.

“I’ll help you to the front door. This is your house, right? I’m not aiding and abetting a burglar?” He teased, turning to walk towards her door.

“No, no. My parents live here,” she said, pointing at the house.

“And you don’t?”

“Technically yeah, in between semesters,” she said, shrugging. “Just took my last final this morning.”

“Oh, cool, me too. I made it in a couple hours ago,” he said, gesturing to the house to the left of theirs.

“So, our parents are neighbors?”

He grinned. “You sound disappointed.”

She shook her head, shoving her hands in her pockets. “No, it’s nice to know someone my age around here. They moved into this house right as I was moving into my dorm, so I didn’t get a chance to get to know anyone.”

“I guarantee my parents were the one to sell you this house,” he said, handing her the backpack and rolling her the suitcase.

“Your parents are realtors? That’s cool,” she said, nodding. “They must be great at their jobs if they convinced them to buy the house so fast.”

He laughed, eyes crinkling at the edges, his irresistible dimple popping up again. “I don’t know shit about the housing market, stranger.”

She couldn’t hold her giggle back. His laugh was infectious. “I’m the stranger? You ran up to me first.”

“Yeah, but I landed first, so I deem you the stranger,” he said, gently poking her arm. “So, stranger, do you have a name?”

“Spencer Matsuzaki,” she said, holding a hand out, half of her palm covered with the damp wrist of her hoodie.

“Bryce Lahela. Nice to meet you, stranger.”

––––

The first night home wasn’t terrible. She was practically interrogated, though.

She zoned out, slipping into the same routine she always did when she was bombarded with questions about school.

She had to stay neutral and cordial while explaining aspects of her life in grave detail on top of leaving out tons of information for her parents' health. Her parents would go into cardiac arrest if they knew how much she’d drank that semester.

After dinner, she retreated into her room for the night, grimacing at the catalogue-esque decor. Her parents really leaned into the middle class american aesthetic, and she wasn’t fond of it.

She missed living in the city. Their apartment overlooked her favorite movie theater, favorite coffee shop, and the playground of her old elementary school a couple streets over.

She missed being within walking distance of places that harbored her favorite memories. And from her new window, her view was nothing more than the house across the street and a few scattered bare trees.

The only thing she enjoyed about her new house was the balcony in front of her window, just large enough for her to sit comfortably with another person. Not like that was happening anytime soon, though.

She tugged the blanket around her shoulders, trying to fight off the biting cold. She tightened the drawstrings of her hoodie, shielding her headphones from the wind so she could hear her music clearly.

Her thoughts wandered to the boy next door.

Bryce Lahela. Beautiful face, beautiful name.

She couldn’t really put a finger on it, but something about him was so familiar. Like she’d known him for lifetimes already.

God, she admired people with that quality – being able to make someone so comfortable the minute you meet them that they just slip into whatever void you’d needed filling.

Potentially a dangerous quality, but Spencer didn’t let herself think about that possibility.

The snow had let up, the freezing temperature preserving what’d already fallen. She allowed herself a glance over at the Lahela residence, half hoping she’d find him outside.

Thankfully enough, he was exiting the front door with a wide shovel in hand, bundled up properly, unlike when they’d met a couple hours before.

She watched him as he easily shoveled the muddy sludge off of the walkways. It was just quiet enough that she could hear his soft grunts with effort at the initial plunge of the shovel into the snow.

She didn’t mean to stare. But what else was there to watch? The road was quiet, bare, like a car passing by too loudly would break the suburbian immersion.

After he’d shoveled the first pathway leading up to the house, he moved to the driveway – not before he ripped the beanie off of his head, shaking out his golden strands.

She watched unabashedly, trying to figure out how the hell a gorgeous surfer bro straight out of a Hollister ad was living next door.

He squinted in her general direction, throwing up a gloved hand to cover his eyes. A grin spread quickly, and he tossed the shovel to the ground with the other hand, using it to wave.

“Hey, stranger!” He called.

She ducked down, trying to hide her blushing cheeks as his laugh rang out, disrupting the silence.

–––

Ten pages from the end of her crime novel, right before they revealed the killer, a heavy handed knock caused Spencer to jolt nearly a foot into the air from her sitting position on the couch.

She picked up the book that morning, trying to do something productive that’d double as an excuse to get out of conversing with her parents. Eight hours later, give or take, and they’d barely bugged her for meals, let alone awkward small talk.

Shuffling to the door in her pajama pants, she yawned as she yanked the door open, expecting to see a mailman or something of that nature.

Bryce stood there instead, flirty smile and all, dimple pronounced like the cherry on top of his overwhelming attractiveness.

“Am I boring you already? Sheesh,” he teased, shoving his hands in his pockets.

She cut her yawn off, squeezing her eyes shut. “Sorry, I –” She cut herself off with yet another yawn, shaking her head. “Uh, sorry. I know that was probably super ugly.”

He shrugged. “I thought it was cute.”

She tugged her arms around herself, the tank top doing virtually nothing to shield her from the cold. “So… What’s up?”

He grinned, digging in his pocket. “I’m glad you asked.”

He whipped out two tickets, handing them to her. “Light show. You and me. Now.”

“Now?” She asked, eyebrows shooting up to her hairline.

“Yeah, now. What about it?”

She gestured to her outfit. “I’m not dressed.”

“So? Get dressed,” he shrugged again.

She rolled her eyes. “You really think my parents will let me out this late? I came back to a curfew, you know.”

“Oh. We can work around that.”

“How?” She was genuinely baffled by this guy’s confidence.

“Sneak out.”

“Did you… Did you just skip over the part where I hinted at how strict my parents are?”

He shrugged, again. “Worst case scenario, they ground you for the rest of the break. Then you go back to college in a couple weeks, and they can’t boss you around there, so what are you really risking?”

She chewed her lip, contemplating. “I mean, I can’t argue with you on that one.”

“So you’ll come?”

“Yeah. You’re lucky my parents aren’t home right now,” she said, jabbing an accusatory finger at him.

“Like they could resist this face.”

––––

Downtown – or what she presumed was downtown – was overtaken by lights, the edges of the area blocked off, vendors lined up in parking spaces, nets of overhead lights illuminating the huge displays below.

They’d been walking in silence for a while, just soaking it in and basking in the holiday spirit.

Despite her disdain for the town, Spencer loved the way they celebrated the holidays.

“Hey, I’ll be right back,” Bryce said a bit suddenly, running off before she had a chance to respond.

“Oh… kay,” Spencer murmured, watching him disappear into the crowd. She tugged at her beanie, raking shaky fingers through her hair.

Bryce was… unwavering. He had such a strong personality and a knack for flirting without meaning to.

To put it in its simplest terms, he made her nervous. Really nervous.

It was like the minute he left her immersion was broken and she realized just how hot he was and that she should be nervous.

Her eyes wandered, trying to alleviate some of her apprehension. She hadn’t been to a community-unifying event like that one before, so watching the families and children prance through the snow was enough to fulfill the soft spot in her heart only classic Christmas movies could fill.

“Here,” Bryce huffed from behind her, breaking her concentration.

She turned at the sound of his voice, flinching when she realized how close he was to her, disposable coffee cup in hand, steam slithering out of the small hole in the lid.

“What’s that?”

“Hot chocolate. I figured you’d want something to warm you up,” he smiled, lifting one shoulder in a lazy shrug.

“Oh, this is perfect,” she said graciously, taking the cup from his hands, warming both by the way their fingers brushed each others’ and the heat from the drink. “Thank you.”

“Ah, no need to thank me. It’s the least I could do after dragging you out here,” he said a bit sheepishly, kicking the toe of his boot into the snow.

“You didn’t drag me out anywhere. You were convincing,” she laughed, taking a small sip of the hot chocolate, revelling in the way it warmed her from the inside out. “Maybe a bit too convincing.”

“I don’t need to know how powerful I am or I’ll let it go to my head,” he winked. “How is it?”

“Delicious.”

He nodded. “Perfect.”

She sipped on her drink in silence for a while, racking her brain to come up with conversation topics.

They’d really only spoken in passing, so what the fuck were they supposed to talk about?

“So… you want to ride the train?” He asked, pointing at the train riding through the town square.

Within minutes they were seated on the train in the caboose – the very last seat. Families were spread out through the first couple cars, then onto couples.

They probably didn’t want toddlers watching high school aged kids swapping spit, so they sent them to the back.

That notion made Spencer nervous. Was she on a date? He hadn’t really specified – hell, he was barely giving her details about where they were going before dragging her out of her house.

The train began to move, slowly riding through the square, the families in the front chatting and the children giggling and waving at the passing patrons.

She chatted with Bryce about nothing in particular, just kind of getting to know each other. She found out he loved baseball, hated night classes, and was a huge fan of pineapple – he could smell it in her shampoo.

She’d just begun to relax before noticing the young couple in front of her lean in for a kiss that turned a bit heated. Her hands were clasped in her lap to keep them from trembling, her breath just as shaky.

A warm arm grazed her shoulders, his arm resting on the top of the seat. There wasn’t any pressure for her to do anything with him. But she kind of wanted to.

She mustered up the courage to flick her gaze in his direction, settling on his soft, pleasant smile, seemingly permanent on Bryce’s features.

“Is this a date?” She blurted, cursing herself immediately.

He didn’t seem phased.

“If you want it to be.”

She definitely did.

––––

The walk to her front door was long, even longer than when she was on her own lugging her belongings through the icy slush.

“I had a really nice time, Bryce,” she said, ambling up the last couple steps.

“Me, too. I’m glad I bought an extra ticket yesterday,” he grinned.

She raised a brow at him, prompting him to continue.

“After I helped you inside I immediately left to go get tickets,” he said bashfully. His cheeks were flushed – from the cold or the admission, she had no idea.

“So you’d had this date planned for a whole day?” She asked, a bit taken aback. He’d definitely painted it out to be a spur of the moment thing, no premeditation in sight.

“So it was a date,” he teased, dimple even more prominent as he spoke.

She scrunched her lips to the side to hide her own smile. “Yeah, I think it was.”

“Can I kiss you?”

She made the grave mistake of breaking eye contact, her gaze darting from his mouth back to his eyes. He closed the gap between them in one step.

“I can’t kiss you in front of my house. My parents could see,” she whispered as his gloved hand flicked her messy strands away from her cheeks.

“You wanna save this for another time?” Her heart couldn’t help but race at his playful tone.

She nodded.

“How long are you gonna be here for break?” He asked. “I wanna see you again.”

“I’ll be here through the week.”

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He pulled her into a hug, warm and enveloping despite the cold. “Goodnight, Spencer. Sweet dreams.”

She was so comfortable, so safe in his grip that when she felt him loosen it, she squeezed him tighter without really meaning to.

It was scary how quickly she’d grown attached to a complete stranger.

“‘Night,” she waved, eyes still trained on him as she closed the door.

––––

It took her way too long to fall asleep that night.

His last question and her agreeance to the terms ran through her head on loop.

She was anticipating what he was going to do next. Excited to see how the rest of her break would look like.

After a restless night, she awoke pretty early, lounging around in bed for way too long, aimlessly scrolling through social media.

A day ago, she’d have been jealous of her friends vacationing at the beach, but… she wasn’t as upset at the idea of being home for break.

She stood up, stretching and popping her limbs, grabbing a hoodie from her luggage to throw on.

As she did, something caught her attention, just at the edge of her peripheral – a folded slip of paper in her window sill.

She grabbed it, unravelling the damp paper, trying to decipher the bleeding ink.

“Had to leave earlier than I thought. Sorry. Not sure when I’ll see you again, so here’s my number.”

The paper had been covered in water for a long while, so long that the number at the bottom was smudged, the hardest to read out of the whole message. She could barely make out the area code, let alone the rest of it.

She crumpled it up and threw it in the trash, deciding she could just head over and ask his parents for his number instead if he’d left for school.

After trudging across the lawn through the snow, she noticed something was a bit off, but decided to push the feeling down and ring the doorbell.

She peered through the glass of their front door, realizing that the lights were off, clothes and boxes and bags strewn across the foyer.

No one was home.

––––

year two

The moment the taxi pulled to a stop in front of her house, her eyes searched the front lawn of the house next door.

The familiar sensation of disappointment lingered, despite her constant chastising to not get her hopes up.

She sat on her balcony for a couple hours a day, the space heater on full blast at her feet, trying not to look desperate as her eyes flickered to and from Bryce’s house.

But no one entered or exited the house all break.

––––

year three

He stared down the bottom of the glass, eyes trained on the milky film the eggnog left behind, the spiced rum shots he’d taken warming his limbs.

The trial had been grueling.

No one could’ve prepared him for the way the legal system chewed him up and spat him out each time he entered the courtroom and sat on the opposite side of the room, avoiding his parents’ cold glares.

He shouldn’t have had to testify against them in the first place, but who else were they going to call to the stand? Keiki? She could barely write her own name, let alone understand her rights.

And she shouldn’t have to see her parents – hell, her whole family – being scrutinized and ripped apart, televised for anyone within a thousand mile radius.

He didn’t know that this town was their escape.

If someone would’ve told him two years ago that his first Christmas in college would’ve left him in shambles, his entire world upturned, he wouldn’t have believed them.

Thank god it was one of the only properties they owned that was untouched by their blood money.

Word had spread to his university students, causing him to have to go into hiding. Did all his work from home, got special permission from the chancellor to move his courses online.

He was forced to stay in Hawaii, juggling court and school on top of the press and the general stress of life – he’d been on autopilot since his parents woke him up in the middle of the night to fly back home.

The moment he finished his finals that semester, he boarded the plane without a second thought.

He needed an escape.

Despite the whirlwind, she was on the back of his mind through it all.

Anytime his life got a little too difficult, his mind roamed to the last time he felt normal – the last 48 hours before everything went to shit.

When he’d touched down he’d entered the empty, dusty house, throwing his things down and trudging next door.

The heavy raps of his knuckles against the wooden door were the only display of confidence he could muster.

Is Spencer here? He asked.

She’s in Europe for break.

Europe.

Of all the places she had to be during the holidays, it had to be across the world.

So he found himself at the bar, a newly 21 year old downing holiday drinks as fast as the bartender could make them.

She’d probably forgotten about him. It’s best he moved on anyways.

––––

year four

Graduation was so close she could taste it.

Yeah, she was drowning in med school applications and coming down from her post MCAT high, but her degree was peeking over the horizon, just within her reach.

She could only afford to visit home for a couple days before she had to roadtrip to a couple med schools to tour and interview.

She’d grown into herself the past three years, gaining confidence she didn’t know she had in her. Countless haircuts, style changes, shifts in interest – anytime she was uncomfortable she reinvented herself. It was freeing as hell.

So… going home was weird. Like she was regressing. She knew she wasn’t, but it didn’t stop the itching feeling that she didn’t belong there.

Her parents convinced her to visit for the holidays since it was her last year before she was truly on her own. The car ride was anxiety inducing – she tried to shove the thoughts to the back of her brain.

It’d been three years. She couldn’t dwell on it anymore. It was just a fun weekend, a spontaneous date, a gorgeous guy. Nothing more than that.

She’d moved on for sure – lots of dates, sloppy bar makeouts, and one night stands – but she couldn’t completely forget about the stranger.

It wasn’t like anything super memorable happened – it was a classic crush because of how confident he was.

Now that she’d started to emulate that same confidence herself, the allure was mostly gone, but she just couldn’t let him go no matter how hard she tried.

This time her eyes flickered to the house next door, gaze lingering a bit longer than she wanted to allow herself to look.

At least on paper she was growing.

–––––

Her first dinner at home was the same as always. She spent most of the time dodging intrusive questions and diplomatically answering as well as she could.

Maybe she should’ve thanked her parents for pressuring her to come home – it was perfect interview preparation and she didn’t have to lift a finger.

Her room was untouched as usual, the decor nauseatingly basic – if she hated it before, she hated it more now.

The suburban life was even farther away from what she’d wanted three years ago. Fast paced city life and a job in a world renowned hospital were her only two goals as far as she was concerned. Anything else could wait.

As she unpacked her toiletries, she found herself glancing at the door to her balcony.

She shook it off, choosing to settle in bed with a warm blanket with her laptop and planner, trying to focus on her diploma application.

––––

She jolted awake, scrubbing the sleeve of her jacket across her cheek, grimacing when she saw streaks of drool on the fabric.

She shuddered a bit, realizing she fell asleep on top of the covers, the room’s temperature absolutely freezing.

The space heater was close by, luckily, so she didn’t have to shuffle far to plug it in, crouching down next to it to rub her hands in front of it.

The window to her balcony was cracked just slightly – it’d probably blown open bc of the wind or something. She pushed herself to her feet again, closing and locking the door, but not before catching a glimpse of a light. It wasn’t a streetlight. It was a porch light.

She flung the door open and stepped onto the balcony, ignoring the snow seeping through her fuzzy socks, numbing her toes.

Bryce’s lights were on, and fresh tire tracks trailed up the driveway to the garage.

––––

She tossed and turned that night, a little glad that she’d gotten at least some sleep in the form of a nap.

She gave up after a while, brewing coffee and sitting in the kitchen with her laptop for a couple of hours before her parents awoke.

When they finally woke up, she practically jumped at the chance to ask them about him.

“No one’s lived next door for years. Someone comes and checks up on it once or twice a year, but other than that, it’s vacant,” her mother said, elbows deep in a sink full of dirty plates.

She was thankful her mom was preoccupied so she wouldn’t see her deflate.

––––

Spencer allowed herself approximately thirty minutes of sulking before she made a to-do list of everything she needed to get done before noon.

She’d been home for less than a day and she was already itching to get out.

The drive from her parents’ house to the tiny coffee shop was short, the handful of tables inside bare. She guessed it was because most people were at home enjoying spending time with family – she was the odd one out for having her planner and laptop splayed across the table.

She was neck deep in a chem textbook when she saw him.

He was more chiseled. Taller, too.

The beanie was tugged tight around his head, cheeks flushed. The quarter zip up fit him like a glove, hugging every single muscle.

He slipped his gloves off, tucking them into his pocket, squinting – probably trying to decipher the inane pun names for each drink.

“Can I get a, uh, latte with a couple espresso shots?” She heard him ask, peeking over the top of her textbook, trying to get a good look at him.

He chuckled pretty suddenly, pointing at the clear display of pastries. “Add one of those little things onto it.”

“You mean the ‘Rudolph Red Velvet’ cake pop or the ‘Dasher & Dancer Dark Chocolate’, sir?” The teen said.

His grin stretched even wider, hunching over to read the labels. “Can you tell me the rest of the flavors?”

“Well, we’ve got the full setup of reindeers. It gets pretty confusing at times – ’Dasher & Dancer Dark Chocolate’, ‘Prancer & Vixen Vanilla’, ‘Comet & Cupid Cheesecake’, ‘Donner & Blitzen Berry’, and ‘Rudolph Red Velvet’,” the teen listed off, pointing at the nearly identical cake pops.

He laughed, booming throughout the small room, ringing out even over the blenders.

Yeah, that was Bryce. No doubt about it.

“Give me one of each,” he said, handing the teen a couple bills. While they counted the change, Bryce tossed a $20 bill onto the counter. “This is compensation for having to read those god awful names.”

They mirrored his expression, pocketing the bill.

Spencer was nearly frozen with fear – she didn’t think she was going to run into him. She looked frumpy and felt exhausted, and was a little frustrated at how little she understood from the passages she’d tried deciphering.

She stood up, then sat down immediately. She stood up again, conflicted.

But before she could decide what to do, he turned, coffee in hand, bag of cake pops in the other – one cake pop tucked deep into his cheek.

She saw him.

He saw her.

Time slowed.

She was grateful that he was the first to move towards her, eyes bright, gaze soft like he’d seen an old friend – God, that reaction alone was enough to make Spencer float above the clouds.

He chewed his cake pop on the way over, setting down his bag and coffee near the edge of the table out of the way of her mess.

“Hey,” he mumbled through a mouthful of food, chewing vigorously.

“Bryce, oh my god, I – I thought I’d never see you again – you just disappeared and –”

He held up a hand, swallowing. “What’d you say?”

“Oh, I said that I thought I’d never see you again –”

“Wait, wait,” he flipped the side of his beanie up, revealing wireless headphones, which he tugged out and immediately pocketed.

Christ. Embarrassing. Her cheeks burned, inwardly cringing. This is going so swimmingly, Spencer.

He shook his head incredulously, mouth moving like he wanted to say something, but no words came.

“I… didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said, eyes slowly raking over her features.

“Oh my god, I didn’t think I’d see you, Bryce,” she said, nervously adjusting her glasses. Good thing he didn’t notice her recycling sentiments.

“So… how have you been?” He smiled, taking a sip of his latte.

He was playing this way cooler than she was. How was he not freaking the fuck out?

“I’ve been good. Uh, good and kinda busy I guess. I’m waiting to hear back from a couple of med schools and I’m graduating this spring, so I’m excited about that,” she said, trying and failing to figure out how to condense three years worth of personal growth into a couple sentences without boring him to tears. “What about you?”

He nodded, tipping back the steaming latte again. “I’ve been pretty good. Got into my dream med school and it’s, like, across the country from where I am now, so that’ll be good for me. Fresh start, you know?”

She gave him a slight smile, closing her textbook and stacking her planner on top of it.

“Oh, I was just picking this stuff up, so I can let you get back to studying,” he said, unsure, jabbing his thumb towards the door.

“No, no, I was closing it so I can give you my full attention,” she explained, shaking her head. “Just getting some random stuff done. I’m fine.”

He relaxed a bit more at that, settling into his seat like he was at home. “So… what are you working on?”

“I’m getting some last stuff done before I leave this weekend. Just some basic housekeeping. Ironing out details, you know,” she nodded, fiddling with the frayed hole on the hem of her hoodie.

He was trying to jump back in like everything was… normal. This wasn’t normal.

“Oh you’re leaving?” He seemed disappointed, a wrinkle forming between his brows where he pushed them together.

“Yeah, I’m using part of my break to fit in some last minute tours and interviews.”

“Oh… Well if you’re leaving soon, do you wanna do dinner at my place tonight?” He asked. “I feel like we’d be more comfortable catching up there.”

A… date? After all these years? And he still knows literally nothing about me?

––––

She chewed her lip, trying to hold back a smile.

His pulse raced, wondering if she’d reject him. He should’ve thought it through before blurting out a question like that. He’d spoken to her for all of five minutes and he was already asking her to go back to his place.

“So… is this a date?”

The mischievous look on her face was contagious – just a hint of flirtatious teasing like the first time they met.

“Yeah, but only if you want it to be,” he answered, tossing the drink back again, the liquid warming his insides (his morning run was long, and the wind was biting).

“And if I don’t?” She adjusted her glasses again, the only sign of tension amidst her otherwise calm demeanor.

And if he hadn’t ran through the memories of that night over and over, fixating on every little detail he managed to retain, he might’ve not caught it.

Her nervousness was a comfort – It meant she still liked him enough to be on edge around him.

“Then we’re just two neighbors catching up while eating food,” he shrugged, popping another cake pop in his mouth.

He held the bag out to her. “Want one?”

She peered over into the bag, lashes gently brushing her under eyes. “Will you get mad if I take Rudolph?”

God, she was so fucking pretty. He couldn’t get over it. All these years and she only managed to get hotter.

“Why would that bother me?” He mumbled through his mouth full of cake.

“He’s supposed to be special, right? I just thought you’d want him,” she said, crossing her arms on the table and leaning in more.

He sat up, leaning an elbow on the table, tipping forward to close the gap between them – he plucked the cake pop from the bag by its stick, waving it in front of her face.

She didn’t retreat. The only reaction was the color rising to her cheeks, a hint of rouge beneath the spatter of light freckles on her face – the ones that no one could see unless they were this close.

“You’re special, too, y’know,” he said, pushing the limits even more, bringing it to her lips. “Take it.”

He was egging her on, testing whatever change she’d clearly been through – underneath the confidence lurked something sultry that he desperately wanted to bring out of her.

She leaned forward and lowered her mouth around the pop, sinking her teeth into the stick, her lips grazing the tips of Bryce’s fingers.

She pulled back, chewing through a smile. “Yum.”

His stomach flipped, but he kept his poker face even.

It was odd, having this girl in front of him that he’d thought about for years when he’d convinced himself it was a fluke or a dream or a little bit of both.

They both chewed in silence, eyes still firmly locked on each other.

There was so much he needed to say but it just wasn’t the right time.

“What time should I come over?” She asked after swallowing.

“When do you usually eat dinner?”

She rolled her eyes at him, still trying to hold back a smile even though she clearly found him mildly entertaining if not infuriating as hell (which was an attitude he thrived off of).

“I don’t care, Spence. Whenever you want.”

––––

Bryce tapped his foot, adjusting the napkins and cutlery for the hundredth time before pacing towards the monitor that showed him the front door’s security cam.

He should not have told her to come over whenever. The delivery guy was stuck in traffic, so his whole plan of pretending like he cooked was thwarted by the icy roads.

He checked the delivery app for the millionth time, the time remaining still stuck on “14 minutes”.

Was a button up with slacks too much for dinner? Christ, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually been nervous before a date.

He wasn’t sure if it ever had happened before, because it didn’t happen.

He wasn’t afraid of shooting his shot with anyone. That cute guy at the gym? No hesitation. His bio lab partner sophomore year? Of course. The ex-girlfriend of the one fraternity brother he didn’t like? Yup. That one fraternity brother he really liked? Hell yeah.

There wasn’t a time that he he actually had to try to get someone to like him – his conquests weren’t really conquests. They’d always just kind of… fallen into his lap, for lack of a better phrase.

But he also couldn’t name a single person he’d “pined” for, whatever that meant. Spencer was the first girl that had slipped through his fingers – maybe this date would be closure. If she was down to fuck, maybe they’d get the weird three-year-long outstanding “what if?” question answered.

He filled the bucket with ice, neatly digging the champagne bottle’s base into it, even grabbing a rag to wipe the perspiration off the metal to buy some time.

A few more minutes passed. When he checked the app again, it’d changed to “13 minutes”, and Spencer was walking down his driveway.

Even on the grainy screen he could tell that whatever she had on was gonna drive him wild.

He strode towards the door, flinging it open to greet her.

“Hey, Spencer,” he grinned, opening his arms wide for a hug.

She matched his expression with a sweet smile of her own, slipping into his grip and molding herself against his body like she belonged there.

Fuck, she smelled delicious. Her hair, her lip gloss, her perfume – everything about her was delectable and made holding back all the more harder.

“Hey, Bryce,” she murmured, squeezing him. “It’s cold. Can we move inside?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Sorry about that,” he apologized, pulling back but keeping his palm on her lower back, shutting and locking the door behind him.

She walked into the main corridor, just kind of… observing. Taking everything in.

“Huh.”

“What do you mean, ‘huh’?” He asked, glancing down at her discreetly.

“It’s… nice. I can tell it’s your parents’ house.”

He chuckled, surprised. “Yeah, but what is that supposed to mean?”

“None of your personality is in this house. I figured it’d be brighter. Less marble, too,” she said, gesturing towards the decorations straight from a catalogue sprinkled throughout the house.

He couldn’t help that his parents insisted on flying out their personal interior designer to every house they owned. But it didn’t make it any less cringe worthy.

“No, you’re right,” he nodded, shrugging. “Can’t argue with that.”

He gently steered them towards the kitchen, his eyes flitting towards her as she scanned the house, a pleasant enough look on her face.

“What would you change about this house?” She asked, sliding onto one of the never-been-used barstools.

“Well, for one, I wouldn’t even have it in the first place,” he said, opening the cabinet next to the fridge, retrieving the champagne glasses.

“Really?”

“Really. If I had it my way, we would’ve never left Maui.”

She nodded, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

Setting the glasses down in front of her, he stood on the other side of the counter, grabbing the bottle by its neck, unravelling the wrapping on the outside. “Hope this is alright. I just picked a bottle that looked expensive.”

“Expensive doesn’t mean better,” she said, eyes trained on the bottle, probably trying to read the label.

“You’re right, again. Two for two,” he joked, sliding the cork from the opening with a loud “pop”, the sound ricocheting off the walls and flooring.

After pouring it, he cocked his head her way, encouraging her to take the first sip.

She tipped the glass back, her nose scrunching after taking a deep swallow. “Mmmm. I would’ve settled for the shitty boxed wine I drank in college over this.”

He took a sip and shook his head, sticking his tongue out with a grimace. “Yeah, this tastes like ass.”

She snorted, covering her mouth as she laughed, making a breathy choking sound that he found oddly endearing.

“To answer your question, I’d probably paint the walls yellow. Hang up my grandpa’s old surfboard my dad passed down to me, if I can even find it. Maybe some movie posters,” he continued, gesturing towards the deadspace on the walls in the kitchen.

“Yeah, that’s kinda what I pictured, too,” she hummed, shivering after downing the rest of the glass.

“You don’t have to drink anymore. We agreed it tastes like shit,” he walked over to the cabinet, browsing the bottles, nearly empty. “I only have… a little bit of tequila and some rum.”

“I’ll take a rum and coke then,” she smiled gratefully, pushing the empty glass to the side.

While making the drinks, he checked his phone, hoping that the driver was close by. No luck – the time hadn’t shifted.

“So… when’s the delivery guy getting here?”

He could sense her behind him. When he turned to offer her a glass, he realized just how close she was.

She accepted the glass, craning her neck around him to look at his phone’s screen. “I knew it.”

“What? What’d you know?” He asked, unable to look anywhere but her plush lips, curved upwards into a grin.

She was life-ruiningly pretty. It was like God himself scanned Bryce’s brain and 3D copied his fantasies into the form of Spencer Matsuzaki, who was quite literally the girl of his dreams.

“I knew you weren’t a cooking type. I figured you were gonna get takeout, and I was right,” she pointed at his screen, the delivery app still open.

“Yeah, I was gonna try to impress you and pretend that I’d cooked everything but clearly that didn’t pan out,” he chuckled, peering down at her.

“That’s the oldest trick in the book, Bryce. I would’ve easily clocked that,” she shook her head, taking a quick sip of her drink, still standing close enough to him that he could feel her breath on him each time she laughed.

Before he dropped everything and propositioned her right there to take it to the living room, she turned on her heel and walked back towards her stool.

They sipped their drinks in silence, an air of awkwardness settling into the atmosphere – for the first time in, well, years they were completely and utterly alone.

She chewed her lip, swiping her thumb across the perspiration on the cup. “So…”

“So?”

“I feel like we have a lot of ground to cover.”

He nodded. “I guess the question now is ‘where do we start?’”

“We could just ask each other stuff and see how that goes.”

“I’ll go first – are you still single?”

A laugh ripped from her chest, bounding off the walls and floor, filling up the space with sound (one that was quickly becoming his favorite).

“That’s the first thing you ask me? After all these years?” She asked incredulously, shaking her head in awe.

He grinned. “Sounds like you’re avoiding the question.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Avoiding the question? Or you’re single?” He teased.

“I’m not seeing anyone at the moment, no.”

“Oh, at the moment. Seems like I’ve got some competition.”

Laughing, she tipped her head back to take a deep gulp. He watched as she did, a bit envious of the glass wrapped between her fingers and the rim caught between her lips.

She was a bit more timid when she drank the hot chocolate he offered her years before, cupping it with both hands and taking soft sips, smiling shyly, like being offered a drink on a date was something she should be grateful for.

The way she held herself was different. Before, it was like she was apologetic for taking up too much space, but this version of Spencer took the world by storm – like when she walked into the room, she claimed the space as her own before anyone else could tell her differently.

Whatever miniscule reservations he had about sleeping with her were out the window before she set her glass back down.

“I’m assuming you don’t have anyone at home waiting for you if you asked me that first,” she said, bluntly, chewing on a piece of ice.

“What makes you say that?” “Well you’re obviously gauging whether or not you want to fuck me tonight so I might as well be as upfront as you,” she shrugged, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

“Is that so?” He quirked a brow at her. “Would you count frequent hookups?”

“Nope. I’ve got those, too, but I don’t count ‘em.”

“So you turned out to be pretty wild, huh?”

She laughed. “I hope you realize how weird you sound. I’m not who I was at 18. Shit, and you barely even knew me then!”

He held his hands up in protest. “My bad.”

She tapped her nails on the counter, looking a bit conflicted. “No, it’s okay. Just a bit of a sensitive topic, I guess.”

“Parents, huh?”

“Yep. Don’t quite approve of who I am, even though I’m literally going to be studying to be a doctor,” she rolled her eyes. “I did get pretty wild, though. I mean, I had to get it out of my system before med school, you know?”

He shrugged. “Totally understandable.”

“Speaking of, why aren’t yours here? I figured I was going to accidentally run into them or something,” she mused, crunching on another ice cube.

He tried hiding his reaction, but he couldn’t help the way he tensed up at the mere mention of them. The thought of her bringing them up crossed his mind before, so thankfully he was able to keep it moving.

“Oh, they moved back to Hawaii a while ago. Been waiting to put this house on the market but it just didn’t seem like the right time.”

“So why aren’t you with them for the holidays?”

He stiffened, racking his brain for a believable lie. There was no fucking way he was baring his soul to the girl that just stepped back into his life.

She was the last good memory he had before everything went to shit, so he couldn’t break the illusion. Spencer was too good for this – maybe too good for him.

Court baggage was a heavy load to bear. Criminal baggage was even heavier. Lying to save face was the only way he could protect them both.

“Oh, it was just cheaper for me to stay here than fly back to Hawaii.”

She nodded, seemingly in agreeance, swirling the last bit of ice around her glass before tipping it back again. “S’good you get a little peace and quiet between semesters.”

“You have no idea,” he breathed, practically sighing in relief, thankful the crisis was averted.

“I do have a question, though,” she said, setting the glass down and pushing it away from her. “Why did you leave your number on my window sill?”

He leaned over the counter, bracing his arms against it. “So you did see it.”

“You’re lucky I found it! You could not have chosen a worse place to put it.”

“Well, you used to always walk out on your balcony so I thought it’d be safe.”

She pursed her lips, seemingly holding back a smile. “You remember that?”

“Yeah, of course. Why didn’t you, you know, use the number, though?” He asked, teasing.

Her mouth popped open, looking almost offended by his words. “Oh my god, you think if I had your number we still wouldn’t have talked for three years?”

“When you put it that way, I guess it doesn’t make sense,” he laughed, taking a swig of his drink.

“No, but I can’t get over that – you thought this entire time that I just didn’t try to contact you? Bryce, you offered to kiss me before literally disappearing into the night – you thought I wouldn’t have at least, you know, tried following up on that?” Spencer was giggling in between her words, barely able to get it out of her system.

“Yeah, well, you think I didn’t want to follow up on the kiss either? I’m the one who offered!”

They were cutting up, both leaning over the counter, folded over in laughter. They’d shifted closer as they got more comfortable with each other, their arms nearly grazing each others’ over the cold granite.

God, she was so beautiful. Everything he felt when he met her three years ago was pretty much amplified. He had it bad for her.

When she noticed how close they were, her eyes flitted to his lips, tongue darting out to wet her own.

“You wanna cash in on that now? I heard that ‘Bryce Lahela Kiss Coupons’ never expire,” he said, voice low, reaching out to swipe the pad of his thumb over her chin.

“Bryce…” she said, closing her eyes, before leaning back to put some distance between them. “We have to lay some ground rules first.”

He sighed, standing up at his full height. “Okay, shoot.”

“I’m not trying to go all analytical on you, but we have to get this out of the way first. Tell me where your top three med schools are.”

A snort escaped him before he could stop himself. “What, do you only fuck guys that go to –”

“– And girls –”

“And girls – that go to John Hopkins?” He asked, teasing. “Me, too, by the way.”

She shook her head, ignoring his joke. “Nope. Just tell me.”

“Well, I’m looking at California, New York, and Chicago. What about you?”

“Ohio, Virginia, and Washington.”

The pieces fell into place for him. “Damn, you were playing chess and I was playing checkers, huh?”

She laughed. “No, no, I was just curious. I didn’t think we’d get as far as relationship talk, but I figured after everything we’d been through, we might as well discuss it, you know?”

“So that means this is a one-and-done type deal.”

“I guess so,” she said, scratching at her neck. “I’ve made out with plenty of people before and forgotten it, so if you want to just see how we feel, I’m down.”

“Oh, I think you’ll remember this for a while,” he said, stretching across the counter to gently cup her face in both hands, pressing a deep kiss to her lips.

Their first kiss was unlike no other. What’d started out as an offhanded joke to relieve three years worth of tension quickly morphed into desperate grabbing of clothes, heavy pants, and even heavier tension crackling like a fire between them.

She fisted his collar, dragging him to her over the counter, kneeling on her bar stool and pushing herself closer and closer to him.

Bryce had his share of sloppy bar makeouts, passionate kisses amidst sex – even sweet domestic kisses during mundane tasks. But this kiss? Somehow it was a bit of everything rolled into one.

They parted pretty abruptly when he elbowed her empty champagne glass and it clattered against the counter.

“Shit,” he cursed, pulling back just a hair to check the damage.

When he turned back, she was still holding him, staring at him, a look on her face that he hadn’t seen before.

“That was…” her lids fluttered, tongue darting out to lick her lips – like she was savoring his taste.

“Really good.”

She nodded. “Insanely good.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“Is it what you were dreaming of?” He teased, but there was a hint of sincerity to it.

She nodded again, her grip tightening on his collar. “I’m a little scared at how much I enjoyed it.”

“Scared? Why?” He murmured, stroking his thumb against her cheek in comfort.

“Well… this can’t happen,” she gestured between them.

“It doesn’t have to happen. We can pretend like the kiss never did, just like you said. I don’t mind,” he shrugged.

“But… what if I want it to?”

He couldn’t conceal the smirk tugging at his lips. “You wanna take this upstairs?”

She tried holding back a smile. “Maybe.”

“Well, you can think about it over dinner, whenever that gets here.”

The driver took about twenty minutes, and eating took them twenty more. Small talk was managed, jokes were cracked, but there was an unmistakable feeling in the air that both of them could sense.

Bryce was no stranger to sexual tension. Hell, he thrived on it.

Making a cute girl blush? Exhilarating. Getting a guy at the bar fund his hangover? Incredible. Those few minutes between knowing you’re going to fuck someone and actually fucking them? Couldn’t get enough.

The minute their plates were cleared, she took his hand and led him upstairs, throwing glances back at him like if she let go for a second he’d disappear.

As much as he just wanted to fool around, he couldn’t help but pocket the small details for later, just in case he decided it was alright to get emotionally invested. Despite feeling like he had a hold on the situation, he definitely didn’t.

He was a bit delusional in thinking he wasn’t already falling for her the way she was for him.

––––

[part 1.5 coming soon]

____

They’d been curled up in bed for nearly an hour and a half, just talking, every once in a while pulling the other in for another kiss that led to roaming hands.

In another life, if they’d both lived in that town and grew up there, there was no doubt they’d be best friends. High school sweethearts, even.

But she knew that whatever daydreams she’d conjured up could never be reality.

This was a one-time thing. They both knew that.

After a lull in conversation she slipped out of bed, gathering her clothes and tossing them onto the bed.

“You leaving?” He asked, sitting up.

“Uh, yeah. I think I need to get going. I’ve still got a curfew,” she shrugged, making a hand motion like she was pulling the trigger.

“Still have one? Damn, that sucks. Am I gonna get to see you tomorrow?” He rubbed the back of his neck.

He remembered her curfew?

She snapped her bra back in place, avoiding his eye as she slid on her straps. “I, um, have to leave.”

“I thought you were staying through the weekend?” He sounded taken aback, like he thought he had more time.

She slipped her underwear and pants on fast. “I have a long drive ahead of me and I kinda wanted a night to breathe before I tour and interview, you know?”

He was silent. She threw her sweater on before daring a glance at him. His eyes were trained on the mattress, refusing to look at her.

“Bryce,” she called, but he shook his head.

She sat on the mattress, tipping his chin up with her finger. “What’s wrong?”

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug, sighing. “It’s stupid.”

“C’mon, it’s not stupid. Tell me.”

“I’m kinda regretting this being a one-time thing.”

She raked his hair back, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. “I am, too.”

He met her eyes again, brows furrowed. “You are?”

She nodded. “I like you. A lot.”

“So what’s stopping us? We can make it work if we try –”

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, looking at the ground. “I don’t know if we can.”

“Why not?”

“The distance, first of all. And we’re going to be in different programs in different states, so there’s no way we can fully commit to school and our future if we’re trying to start a relationship and maintain it –”

“Spencer, you think I’m gonna give up that easily after all this time? I just got you back,” he said, lifting a hand to cup her cheek.

“This isn’t giving up, Bryce… this is… practical. Rational,” she added, leaning into his touch. “The right thing to do.”

“It doesn’t feel right.”

“I know, but… I think it’s easier to move on now rather than later when we’re in too deep,” she gulped, trying to soothe the lump forming in her throat.

She knew this wasn’t gonna be easy, but she figured it’d be easier than falling for him over phone calls and video chats and sweet good morning texts and the inevitable breakup that came after.

“You sure we’re not already in it?” He asked, underneath his breath, gaze flitting to her lips.

She rolled her lips, shaking her head, trying to mask her wobbling chin.

“If you don’t want to get hurt, I get it, but I need you to know that I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I met you,” he said, cupping her cheeks with both hands. “And – and I never thought I’d see you again, so I don’t want to let you go without at least, you know, trying to fight for you.”

He brought her in for a deep kiss, seemingly trying to plead his case with his touch.

“Maybe we should just go our separate ways and pretend tonight didn’t happen. It might be less difficult,” she murmured after he pulled away.

“None of this will be easy for us, Spence,” he pressed their foreheads together, both of them closing their eyes.

“Honestly, I want nothing more than to be with you. I want you so badly, but I’ve got so many commitments and my career and I can’t just throw my responsibilities out the window, because I know I would – that’s what scares me,” she whispered, voice cracking.

“You’re right. I hate that you’re right.”

––––

When she slipped back into her room after saying a quick goodnight to her parents, she curled up in her bed and cried.

She didn’t want to cry – it was like her body wouldn’t let her hold it in any longer. The sobs wracked her body as if personified guilt had grabbed her by the shoulders, dug its fingers into her skin, and shook her the tears from her.

Hours later, she woke up in the middle of the night, face still puffy and irritated. As she stood up to go throw cool water on her face, she noticed something taped to her window.

His number and socials were listed in a neat bulleted list, and below it, he’d scrawled a simple note:

“If we meet again.”

––––

#playchoices #bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #bryce x mc #my fic #jade writes choices fics

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axemetaphor · 3 years

Text

im definitely not ripping off my friend by making a list of au ideas i have no siree //gonna slap this under a readmore cause i. well i say a lot. all of the time. i tried so hard to format this Good but tumblr fucked me up i am so sorry

so first-off i know i already have one WIP AU (Auckland) on ao3 so i wont talk about That one cause like. spoilers. i actualyl have it like 80% created so its likely gonna truly get finished for once and i dont wanna ruin shit

the other one ive posted about is something me and ben (catgirlrepublic) have worked on together its not at all close to done or anything but it's. a fun little crossover. Between jdate and my fuckinuhm. Original characters story “Untitled Villains Project”. the sketches of the comic version ive started is actually my pinned post 👉👈 its like the first chunk of the story, i think half of part 1? yea.

Tldr john fucking Somehow is able t oget into contact with a certain curious scientist from another reality who’d just love to study the Soy Sauce, most certainly not for her own nefarious purposes

John and Dave meet up with the scientist, her name is Boss, and her lab assistant, Toxic, and after a bit of a preliminary Vibe Check where john determines her trustworthy (which Dave doesnt agree with,) the two agree to be taken to the world UVP is set in. from there they stay in Boss’s lab (big old fucking abandoned military lab). John and Toxic are fast friends due to mutual love-of-chaos. John n Dave get to fuckin, camp out on an air mattress.

The day after they arrive, the two get split up, not exactly intentionally; big plot points of UVP are liek. Fueled by Boss sending Toxic to go fetch her “research materials,” which are usually important artifacts

Fuckin side note i guess i have to explain my dumb bullshit: Boss’s, uh, field of expertise so to speak is actually fckin, basically the scientific study of magic and superpowers n shit like that. This shit’s all real in that world. Toxic’s got fuckin superpowers, so do 4 other main characters, whatever. It’s got a bit to do with spirituality, iss Boss’s hypothesis. So she has Toxic fetch important artifacts that might have “energies” to them. The thing is actually way more fuckin complictated than that, this is just Boss’s initial hypothesis.

Motherfucking anyways. So Boss gives Toxic a job to do, and John get excited about how Cool that sounds, and ends up going with Toxic, leaving Boss and Dave alone. Neither is thrilled about this. But Dave and Boss get to have a bit of conversation (while Toxic and John are off bonding and having a good time) and come to a… mutual grudging understanding of some kind. They still dont like each other though lmao

Theres gonna be deeper shit going on but we havent sorted it out yet/tbh havent like Written For It in a while but i still like thinking about it a lot lol

Also pretty sure our endgame is john and dave steal toxic and bring them back with em lmao boss is kind of not nice and toxic would most certainly be better off in Undisclosed. Actually theyd fucking love it. Theyd become a local cryptid im sure. Undisclosed’s mothman is a teleporting spike baby.

I have. Another crossover AU that i might. Post something about for halloween? Maybe? If i have it finished?

Crosses over into, you guessed it, another one of my original-character projects. God, am i vain or something?

I promise this is just because i think blue and dave should get to team up to beat up some monsters

Quick briefing on my fuckinuh. Original character story, this one doesnt have a name (yet? Idk lol my work never actually goes anywhere sso who gives a shit). It centers around two grim reapers, Red (26, bi woman) and Blue (22, aroace agender asshole). In this reality or whatever, grim reapers function kind of like low-level office workers. They get told who’s going to die + when by some middle-management types, and upper management only involve themselves when punishment needs to be doled out. These Higher-Ups can be seen as analogous to Korrok; they’re decidedly not human, never were, and fucking terrifyingly powerful. Additionally, grim reapers are sort of .. designed to be “background noise” people. In reality theyre supernatural beings and, uh, look Real Fuckin Weird (the whole deal has a neon aesthetic im terrible at drawing uwu) but most humans just perceive them like extras in a movie. A body’s there but the camera’s not focused on it.

To the narrative: the shit starts when Red n Blue get relocated to Undisclosed. Relocation is something that just happens every now and then to reapers; they usually work in teams, but they get split up into different cities to avoid any strong bonds forming (a counter-union strategy from the Higher-Ups).

Red, Blue, John and Dave end up running into each other for the first time in a McDonalds where John n Dave are getting some 4am “hey, we just survived another horrific monster fight” celebration burgers. John and Dave are the only two people who can see how… strange Red and Blue are. Nobody else notices.

John unintentionally pisses Blue off, leading to Blue whacking him upside the head with a dildo bat. They all four get kicked out of McDonald’s. Dave and Red both are less than thrilled

Blue and John end up resolving their differences, somehow. Red and Dave briefly bond over their dumbass best friends being, well, dumbasses. They all part ways amicably.

somehow-or-other (idk yet) they end up running into each other a few more times, and eventually john invites them over to his place, and the four (plus Amy now!) get to know each other a little better

while there, Blue gets a text about some guy who's gonna die and John offers to drive them to where that's gonna go down. they take him up on the offer and get to have a bit of one-on-one conversation

after that ordeal though Blue has had Enough of people and bails, leaving John to head home alone

theres a sort of mirror-development going on with the five of em. Red, John, and Amy would all like everyone to get along, though theyre a bit tentative about it (John moreso than the other two, actually, jsut cause. well Red n Blue could still be Sauce Monsters). Dave and Blue on the other hand do Not like people enough for this shit, and Dave's not unconvinced theyre Sauce Monsters. he will not trust them until proven he should

the story's kinda nebulous but i got an idea for some Shit going down that involves both Sauce Monsters and also the Higher-Ups to have some fuckin absolute chaos go down.

Oops! All Trans

Everybody is transgender. Everyone

Ive actually workshopped this one both with ben (catgirlrepublic) and ghost (ghost-wannabe) lmao its a fun lil concept ive had from the get-go cause i mean. What’s an internet tran gonna do other than hit all their favourite media with the Everyone’s Trans beam

Dave transitioned post-high school and faked his death for it. People go missing in Undisclosed all the damned time, after all. He moved to the next city over, transitioned fully, then came back as a completely new man. Yes i know this doesnt exactly fit with the “everyone knows David from high school” thing alright, hush.

Anytime anyone brings up John’s old best friend (pre-transition Dave) John throws an entire fit like an overdramatic grieving widow. Full-on sobbing “why would you bring her up?! I miss her so much—” to the point that people just stop bringing up because Jesus Christ That Sure Is Uncomfortable KJHGFDS.

This is a scheme he and Dave came up with prior to Dave leaving, though Dave hadnt exactly anticipated John putting on this much of a performance about it— but it’s stopped Dave from ever having tto hear his deadname again, so hey.

Amy transitioned sometime in middle school/early high school. Her family was super supportive and loved her a ton and most people just know her as Amy. she was super shy her whole life really so. Yeah. people just dont think to bring it up lmao also i Feel Like big jim would absolutely wallop anyone who gave her trouble of any kind

John’s nonbinary (genderfluid specifically) and not exactly Interested in transitioning ? like hes fine with how he is. mostly.

he came out to Dave in high school but hes not out to anyone else exactly. Maybe his bandmates. Probably any other trans person in Undisclosed knows, too, cause theyre safe to tell lmao. Johns mostly a “he/him out of convenience” kinda nb who’s cool with any pronouns but does prefer they/them most. Dave and Amy use they/them when the trio are alone

Also this is a totally self-indulgent caveat that i think would be great, Dave’s actually agender but because he's transmasc and transitioned when he thought there were really only two options, and being Boy at least felt less weird than being Girl, he just kind of assumed he was a dude. It’s only through a lot of (like fucking years and years hes probably in his 30s/40s when he puts 2 and 2 together on this one) talks about gender with John that he realizes he actually feels like No Gender. Masc aesthetic with none gender.

I Just Think It’d Be Neat Is All Okay

Also Amy came out to Dave about being trans early on in them seeing each other and his response was to get very nervous before blurting out “me too” and then just being too embarrassed to talk about it for the rest of the day. Hes got a lot of hangups on talking about it actually it takes years for him to get comfortable in that

by contrast when Amy comes out to John about it his response is to yell “EYYY ME TOO” and give her a big ol hug lmao

I think itd be neatt if Amy ran a like. Transfem help/advice blog on tumblr. Kind of helped-with by John who can give her transfem nb insight for certain asks. I also just think that would be neat.

Cowboy AU - i put this one last cause its got drawings to it actually. Theyll be at the bottom

Basically just. Hey you ever watched a western. I think they look neat

This is another one me n ben have come up with lol

The soy sauce and all that shit still exist, im not sure where korrok fits in yet but ill figure it out

Theres no real like solid narrative yet ? but heres the barebones of everybody’s arcs.

John

Johns an absolute troublemaker, Of Course. Hes wanted in several towns for absolutely stupid shit. Hes a loner who shows up, causes chaos, gets drunk, does some drugs, runs away if people get too mad at him

He definitely had the same kind of deal with the soy sauce as in canon— he was at some kind of party, somebody offered it, he took it cause why the fuck wouldnt he, now he can see monsters and shit

Hes kind of a mooch also. Like. dont let him stay in your barn man he’ll never fucking leave and drink all your booze.

He runs into Dave when they happen to just, cross paths in the same town. the bullshit John stirs up ends up involving Dave in a way that makes it seem like it's his fault too, and they both get run out of town

after that he just tags along after Dave. hes decided this guy's Cool he wants to stick around. Dave is pissed at first, but not enough to shoot him or anything, and eventually, John grows on him

Dave

Dave also is a loner but unlike John hes simply so fucking awkward and bad with people. He doesnt feel like he belongs anywhere so he just travels

He’s the stereotypical Lone Ranger tbh. He wanders from town to town, solving their problems, though hed deny its out of any moral obligation (it kinda is, a little bit, tbh. He does like feeling useful). He shows up, fixes things, leaves. He's kind of a legend but most people think he's hiding something dark. other people jsut know him as that guy who farted real loud in the middle of the saloon and promptly skipped town out of sheer embarrassment. you know how it goes with Dave

He ends up involved with the Soy Sauce when a snake (not Actually a snake,) bites him. The snake’s more like the wig-monsters, really. Anyway, it injects him with the soy sauce, he fucking trips balls in the middle of the desert, he can see monsters now

He runs into John and shit goes tits-up, as said, but they become traveling buddies after that. he'd never say so, but he's glad for the company, actually. it's nice. hes not used to companionship but he feels a strange kind of easiness hanging out with John....

not sure how the Monster Dave concept will like fit in to this reality but like. trust me i want it in here. I'll Figure It Out.

Amy

Amy’s been living in a town John and Dave end up passing through and she is very curious about these two new Handsome Strangers who claim to fight monsters and just kinda. Persistently tags along til they let her join for real

Her family’s all dead, unfortunately, just like in canon, and she’s been living alone for a few years before meeting John n Dave. she had nothing left in that town to stay for, she'd been fantasizing about escaping on wild adventures for a long time and this felt a little like a dream come true. (Dave still gives her a spiel about how Difficult it is, but really, her fantasies were pretty grounded-in-reality already. i jsut think thats how she is, yknow?)

Shes the first person to react to the whole “we see monsters” shit with a kind of “oh, okay. neat” kind of response lmao

John and Dave fix whatever the fuck is up with her town (maybe that’s where the Korrok shit can fit, who knows) and Amy ends up being integral to that. After, she insists they take her with them because “they need her now” and Dave just cant really say no. John too is very much "the more the merrier!" and hes actually glad to have another person along he loves people lmao

At the start she has long hair but after she joins them she chops it short with a knife for convenience

also she still is an amputee. justt. idk. it was a wagon/stagecoach accident rather than a car accident lmao. just to clarify since i hadnt mentioned it, i wouldnt rob her of her ghost hand or yknow. all of the significance to her character that Missing A Hand has. although also now im going to have to research what was used as painkillers way-back-when, but im betting shes still got, like, her pain pills, they probably had those, maybe i wouldnt have to try too hard there. old timey medicine could be WACK though,

Shitload

Yeah hes in tthis shit mostly cause i liked designing his cowboy self lmao

Hes a kid (like 16, 17, technically i think in those days that was more Young Man than Kid but whatever. Hes Young i mean.) who got possessed by the Worms out in the desert and, by his family’s perception, just went missing!

Hes also a wanderer, but he ended up at the same town john and dave met in, at that same time, and starts following them after, already aware of who/what they are.

He keeps his face covered 24/7. actually he covers a Majority of his self for reasons. kinda want him to be a slightly more horrifying Worm Entity rather than human idk,

I kinda dont have much for this boy yet sorry Shitload

images !

with some editing notes for me cause im doing a very specific aesthetic with this lmao. i might change some lil details/colours though ...... idk

im also kinda 🤔 about shitload's colour palette. i want things assoicated w the sauce to be black'n'red predominantly but i think his palette might mirror dave's too closely. also im working on a korrok design i jsut am too busy to draw it now

#jdate #john dies at the end #aus #erh. tthe hell do i tag this as #rambles.txt #long post #well let me know if youd wanna hear more or. or something #send an ask. or whatever #yaknow #:jazz hands:

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absynthe--minded · 4 years

Note

opinions on the recent russingon meta? tbh i love russingon, i love black fingon headcanons, but i do agree that it's a little weird when fingon gets totally sidelined in fics as just Maedhros' Emotional Growth or the Black Nanny. i mean, russingon really lends itself to hurt/comfort, which is fine, but i think ppl sometimes neglect fingon's arc. thoughts as a russingon writer? (no accusations, love your work, but wanted your perspective on other ppls russingon works)

(Wow this got long, lol.

Full disclosure - I haven’t read the recent Russingon meta, or offered any substantial response to it. Quite a lot of people I know have, but I’ve not had the time and my brain hasn’t been cooperating with me to read large chunks of text over the last couple of days. I have opinions on your ask as I’m seeing it now, and that’s what I’ll be responding to. I’m also not black, though I’m not white either - my ethnic group is one that has troubling stereotypes associated with it of caring for white people/acting as sage dispensers of advice/etc, but I can’t speak to the breadth and depth of the black experience when it comes to being a ‘black nanny’ in fiction, and I’m not going to try to.)

So, Fingon being a cardboard cutout/emotional support animal for Maedhros and Fingon being perceived as black by large portions of the fandom are two things that arose completely independently of one another. Fingon being Maedhros’s support animal is a trope as old as Russingon itself, and possibly is as old as the published Silm itself. I’ve read Russingon fics that were almost as old as I am, Russingon fics published last week, Russingon fics that vilified the Nolofinwëans, and Russingon fics from the turn of the 21st century when the Fëanorians were seen as uncomplicated villains. Fingon being a cardboard cutout is ubiquitous through all of them. It doesn’t matter how old the fic is, it’s basically guaranteed.

The reason for this is that Maedhros is far and away the most popular character in the Silmarillion, and his pain and angst and mental strife and trauma are front and center in many writers’ lists of priorities. If it’s not Fingon propping him up, it’s Maglor, or another brother, or an OC - this is a very common genre of Silm fic and it’s not limited to Russingon.

But.

This is my least favorite Russingon trope and it’s the entire reason I’m writing Blessed Hands and why all my Russingon fics are at least majority-Fingon POV. I can’t fucking stand it, and it completely kills my interest in a story. I’m super picky with my Russingon fics because of this trope, and because of its ubiquity, and I’ve talked about it on my blog many times before. For me to love a Russingon fic, it has to be about how they anchor and support one another, and how their mutual and equal investment in their relationship is the foundation of their lives. This trope’s not nearly as common as it used to be, thank Eru, but it’s still around, and I cannot talk enough about how I Hate It, lol. It’s also old enough and omnipresent enough that the majority of fics feature it, and - interestingly - the majority of fics also feature white Fingon.

Alongside this, Black Fingon arose out of a non-Russingon intracommunity discussion among the artists of the Silm fandom, in about 2013. I saw this play out in real time on my dash, and so while I can’t source posts reliably, I can promise this is as accurate as I can make it.

The paradigm shift came as a result of content creators realizing that several of their number weren’t white, and quite a few people in the fandom weren’t white, and yet 100% of art and fics featured white elves with zero real diversity (and a number of very troubling, somewhat stereotypical older illustrations of Men as the only significant examples of people of color in Middle-Earth). There was concern as to why this was being accepted as the norm when there was ample opportunity for representing both one’s own ethnicity and other people of color (and a lot of concern about unexamined racism in white artists who found themselves unable, for various reasons, to picture heroic elves as anything but fair-skinned) and the general consensus was that we had more consistent information from HoME draft to HoME draft about hair color than skin tone, so why were we all picturing our heroes as white?

Fingon in particular was headcanoned as black due to a discovery by a fan (whose URL escapes me, sadly) who I’m certain was black themself. There’s a passage in The Peoples of Middle-Earth describing Fingon as wearing his hair in plaits braided through with gold, and this fan made the comparison to hairstyles worn by IRL black people. The idea was that he was the most uncomplicatedly brave, heroic, and noble person in the Silm, and look, he could be a man of color! There was also a sort of gentleman’s agreement to refrain from making explicit connections beyond that to real human ethnic groups/cultures/races. The logic behind this was that if the generic Eurofantasy aesthetic was kept, white artists would be encouraged to draw diverse elves without concern for cultural appropriation, as well as steering racists away from caricature and the ability to twist a well-meaning effort into a stereotypical attack.

When these ideas first emerged, there was a lot of resistance. Arguments were made that those of us who advocated for diverse elves and specifically black Fingon were discreetly accusing other artists of being racist, or were acting purposefully holier-than-thou, or just wanted to start drama. There were some people who claimed we’d attack anyone who didn’t agree with us that elves were brown. This was an exhausting mess to deal with and it was a major part of my disillusionment with discussing racism in the Tolkien fandom - the majority of voices were reasonable people but the minority was loud and obnoxious. I bring this up to say that diverse elves were genuinely progressive and forward-looking in 2013, even when it was more or less explicitly stated that they had no real ties to existing human races and they had no change to their characters.

Black Fingon, agreed upon outside the Russingon fandom, and Fingon the cardboard cutout, the most reliably present version of Fingon in Russingon fic, sort of ran into one another. No real change was ever made to Finno’s character upon making him black - this would have been seen at the time as unnecessary because his character was just fine as-is, and the whole point was that he could be exactly as he’d been before and be black or brown, that men of color had the exact same range of emotion and depth of character that he did when he was perceived as white.

The problem is that there hasn’t been much examination of the idea that Fingon being a black man who exists to prop up a white man is uh. Really racist and kind of fraught.

All I have to say really is that this wasn’t a conscious decision by anyone to be racist - the opposite, actually. As I mentioned above I can’t speak for black people, or for other BIPOC, but my opinion is that it’s an unfortunate and unconscious choice that has nothing to do with Fingon’s race and everything to do with the fact that his character has been seriously neglected for decades now. It opens the door to a lot of really frustrating tropes and plotlines that smack fans of color in the face with how bigoted they are, and it’s something that I’m glad is being discussed, if only because I’ve been trying to push for a reevaluation of Fingon’s personality and general role for a long time now (though of course I’m also glad that this is actually getting acknowledged as a harmful thing real people now are at risk of doing).

My solution? Same as ever - “write Fingon like a real person with interests and desires and goals of his own, and treat his family like they matter, and flesh out the world he lives in. Listen to people of color if you’re white, educate yourself regardless, and learn to avoid harmful tropes.” If that becomes the fandom norm? I’ll be a happy Absynthe.

#replies #anon replies #RUSSINGON #absynthe's meta

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nano--raptor · 4 years

Text

If you said Destiny, I wouldn’t believe you

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 1100

Warnings: Fluff, emotions, softness, hinting at sadness and pain from the past, happy hopeful ending

A/N: This is my contribution for @the-ss-horniest-book-club Romcom Drabbles challenge! I wrote this inspired by a scene in the French movie Amelie, if you haven’t seen it I highly recommend, it’s a beautiful, lovely story and always gives me lots of feels❤ You can watch the scene I was inspired by here, this happens after Amelie finds the box in her apartment and is determined to find the owner. In the movie she delivers it anonymously, but I wanted an event that brings Bucky and the reader together. Also, don’t at me about Bucky’s age, I just thought it worked as written and kept it that way :) *Bottom right image of the moodboard is from the movie! Thank you so much for reading, enjoy!❤

-----

The knock at the door pulled Bucky’s attention away from the game and he turned the volume down on the tv as he stood. The game - baseball - was so different from what he remembered, they hit harder, ran faster, threw further. It was exciting to watch, but sports in the future was weird to him. Athletes seemed superhuman these days. Maybe they were; maybe he and Steve weren’t the only super soldiers. Maybe there were also super athletes.

His attention was still on the tv as he unlocked and pulled the door open, but when he turned his gaze to the person at the door the world faded away. A woman, young, pretty, with bright eyes and a bright smile. She looked sweet and hopeful and Bucky found himself smiling back at her even though he had no idea who she was.

“Hi! Um, is this the Barnes residence?” She sounded a bit nervous, and Bucky’s smile faltered slightly, a bit unnerved that a complete stranger had tracked down his home - and him - by name, but she seemed honest and genuine, so he gave her the benefit of the doubt.

“Uh, yeah,” he answered slowly, cautiously, keeping a calm expression but with a hint of a frown now resting between his brows.

“Oh yay! Is, um,” the woman tried to peek around him. “Is there a Mr. Banes here? Barnes Senior?” Bucky’s mouth twitched back into a smile, cocking his head at her question.

“As in, my father?”

“Um, maybe?” she shifted on her feet, blushing slightly. This was odd, but she was adorable.

“Nope, it’s just me.” Bucky relaxed slightly, holding back a chuckle but burning to know what the woman was after. She frowned slightly and looked down at a parcel in her hands, which Bucky hadn’t noticed her holding until now.

“Hmm, ok, that’s… odd. Would you by chance be James Barnes then?” Now Bucky’s smile faded and he mirrored the woman’s frown, defenses rising again.

“Yeah, that’s me… why?”

“Well, um. This doesn’t make any sense but… I suppose this belongs to you then!” She held out the parcel, a small box wrapped in brown paper. Bucky took it cautiously, looking it over and giving it a slight shake. He peered down the hall before stepping back into his apartment and motioning the woman to join him. She nibbled her lip and hesitantly agreed, stepping through the door and closing it as Bucky headed back over to the couch. He gently unwrapped the paper, revealing a weathered tin box. His eyes widened and the paper fell from his grasp and he slowly sat down, opening the tin gingerly. The woman watched as emotion covered his face, fingers gently sifting through the contents.

In a flash, memories came flooding back to Bucky as he saw photos, newspaper clippings and small cracker jack toys inside. Memories of a childhood so long ago, it seemed like another lifetime, another reality. So much had happened that his former life seemed like a distant fantasy. A story of someone else’s life that he only knew and remembered from reading about it.

Bucky loved baseball as a kid. He remembered when the Yankees won the World Series in ‘32, then the Giants, and then a few years later, the Yankees won four back to back titles. What a time that had been. He and his friends would run around the neighbourhood, they’d try and play ball whenever they could, and play catch when they couldn’t. He remembered trying to call their shots, and running like hell when the ball went where it wasn’t supposed to.

It was a simpler time then. They all ended up going their own ways, and Bucky had started chasing other interests, eventually joining the army, but seeing these items that he’d collected as a boy made his past life actually seem real.

“Where did you find this?” he looked up at her, his voice quiet, emotion heavy in his eyes. She looked back at him, almost looking like she might cry, a small smile on her lips.

“I actually found it in my apartment. It took a while to track down the history of who had lived there, but eventually I found out about the Barnes family, in the 30’s.” They held each other’s gaze for a moment, before Bucky just breathed “wow” and looked back down at the contents of the box again.

“I remember that place now,” he said with a sigh. “But I’d forgotten all about this.” A few moments passed before the woman shifted and cleared her throat nervously.

“One thing I don’t understand, if I may. You… you don’t look like...” her voice trailed off and Bucky chuckled, finishing her thought.

“Like a 90 year old man?’ She smiled and nodded shyly. Bucky closed the tin and set it on the table, leaning back on the couch and smiling softly at her. “You wanna hear a crazy story?”

-----

You’d fallen in love with Bucky that day. Conversation flowed easily and before you knew it you were meeting for coffee, having lunch together in small cafes, spending nights together. You’d go for rides on his motorcycle through old neighbourhoods of the city while Bucky pointed out landmarks that he now remembered from his childhood. He made you happy, and seeing him happy and at peace, after hearing about his life, warmed your heart in a way that you thought was impossible.

One day, the two of you sat by the river in comfortable silence, while you skipped rocks across the surface, when he’d suddenly asked you:

“How can you love someone like me?” He looked at you with sadness in his eyes, and it broke your heart. “Bucky Barnes. I never used to believe in destiny, or miracles, or fairy tales. But the day I found that little tin box in my apartment, my life changed. I set out to find the owner, to bring happiness to those around me, and I found you.” You laced your fingers together with his, feeling a sense of calm after so long of feeling alone, holding onto your fairy tale dreams of true love, wondering if they’d ever happen.

“The world has been hard for you, but you have a kind heart and you deserve someone who loves you, and reminds you of that.” You smiled softly. “I love you Bucky.”

Bucky smiled and squeezed your hand, leaning in to give you a gentle kiss. “I love you too darlin’, and you definitely show me that everyday. Thank you.”

-----

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#hbc romcom drabbles #hbc surprise drabble challenge #the ss hbc #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagines #amelie #le fabuleux destin d'amélie poulain #my writing #the ss horniest book club #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fluff

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hoekaashi · 4 years

Text

HQ Skincare hcs

a/n: i had too much fun with these hehe, hope you enjoy! onto my next series which will be longer than the skincare ones characters: kageyama, kenma, kuroo, oikawa, iwachan, atsumu, osamu warnings: none other than my language lol taglist: @babydabi @suckersuki @bakugoustanaccount @animoozies @haiikyuuns @depths-of-your-soul @differentballooncollection @waitforitillwritemywayout

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

⇾ growing up as in going to middle school with oikawa, he picked up some stuff ⇾ small things, like which cleanser is better for his skin, what type of skin he has, the difference between toner and essence, what daytime moisturizer he should use and what nighttime one ⇾ things like that ⇾ and even once he was no longer around oikawa, skincare became something that he enjoyed doing ⇾ he would look up new products on his own and he was always willing to try new products too ⇾ his teammates are always so awestruck by his dedication just to his skin ⇾ wouldn’t mind splurging every once in a while on a holy grail product, but everything else is pretty much drugstore stuff ⇾ until he started getting products sent to him in pr packages once bokuto and atsumu let it slip in an interview that kags has a dedicated routine ⇾ his 4 step routine turned into 12 very fast and unfortunately for him, half the time he doesn’t know what he’s doing and ends up bothering oikawa about it

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

⇾ he’s a rich bitch and it shows ⇾ he gets a facial two to three times a month, doesn’t care that he shouldn’t get them too frequently ⇾ his mentality is that if he’s not washing his face every day, it’s okay for him to get facials more frequently ⇾ he just really enjoys the massages they give him, but after learning that he doesn’t do anything at home to take care of his skin, they make him a list of products to use and create an entire daytime and nighttime routine for him ⇾ and because he can, he buys the fancy shmancy products that are overpriced ⇾ his favorite part of the routine is putting a cold sheet mask on his face and letting it marinate on his skin ⇾ he ends up buying a beauty fridge and stocking it up with mostly sheet masks ⇾ but because he doesn’t want to be wasteful, he ends up learning how to recycle them properly along with how to make his own sheet masks ⇾ his facialist starts crying when she finds out that he’s actually taking care of his skin now

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

⇾ literally didn’t do shit for his face ⇾ but as he got older, he would look into ingredients more - not only with what he was putting in his body, but also on it ⇾ around his last year of high school, he decided to start a routine but it wasn’t anything too fancy ⇾ proper face wash and a moisturizer ⇾ slowly he started to build it more looking into the benefits of using toners and the difference between fermented products and regular ones ⇾ you can pry nerdy science kuroo from my cold dead hands but rigor mortis will make that even harder for you to do haha ⇾ once he got his fancy schmancy job, he had the money to splurge on skincare so not only did he get products that were good for him, he also got the expensive ass ones that typical people would save up for and make it last way past the expiration date ⇾ kenma got him hooked on sheet masks ⇾ he has a mini fridge in his office and whenever he’s stressed or just super tired, he’ll pop one on with some eye patches and just take a 10-20 minute nap in his chair ⇾ even though he’s not very active on social media (most of his followers are people who found him through kenma), he will still email companies and ask them to add him to his pr list ⇾ will bug kenma whenever he isn’t added to the pr list

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

⇾ this bitch has a full 12 step routine that he perfected at a young age because he wanted to preserve his youth ⇾ ”why do you wait until you start aging to use anti-aging products? if i start at a young age, i’ll never get wrinkles and people will forever think i’m 20 years old” ⇾ rotates out one product whenever it finishes so his skin doesn’t get used to it ⇾ takes pride in his looks so he would never hesitate to drop money on a product that he knows works ⇾ but on the other side, he also doesn’t mind drugstore products if they do a bomb ass job too ⇾ tried to change the other seijoh third years to have better routines and they all either ignored him or assaulted him with body wash bottles or anything else laying around ⇾ everything is displayed in his bathroom in an aesthetic way ⇾ easily notices if even one product is off ⇾ has a travel sized version of his entire routine and it doesn’t matter if he’s away from his place for even one day/night, he will take the entire thing with him wherever he’s going ⇾ has never missed a single day of his routine which is why iwa went through his acne phase through puberty and oikawa didn’t he still holds it against him to this day

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

⇾ literally uses bar soap to wash his face and moisturizes with coco butter BODY LOTION ⇾ oikawa has a heart attack whenever he sees him do this and proceeds with his cardiac arrest when iwa tells him to fuck off ⇾ wanted to punch oikawa in the face whenever he teased him about not having breakouts since he took care of his skin while they were growing up, but once puberty was done and his hormones were balanced, he never saw another pimple on his face again ⇾ will go to grave without a soul knowing, but his acne pissed him off so much he actually bought products to treat it ⇾ advocate for Proactiv MD ⇾ eventually grew out of his bad habits with skincare but still doesn’t do anything more than face wash, toner, and moisturizer ⇾ will never spend more than 25 bucks on a single product. ever. ⇾ enjoys how oikawa gets jealous knowing that he does the bare minimum and his skin looks as great as it does ⇾ quietly thanks his parents for their good genes

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

⇾ aha ha ha he’s awful ⇾ rinses his face with water after practice, and if he’s showering, he’ll use his 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner to wash his face ⇾ complains about the weird coating it leaves on his face and when osamu tells him it’s because hair products aren’t for his face, he just says it’s extra moisturizing and walks away ⇾ wanna know why he copied osamu’s hairstyle in high school? it’s because his greasy ass forehead was covered in acne from the sweat, clogged pores, and lack of proper hygiene ⇾ in desperation, he stole osamu’s skincare products and used it to clear up his forehead their last year of high school ⇾ for once in his life, osamu let him get away with it because he was tired of hearing his brother complain about his skin ⇾ his patience ran out when he saw his brother using coconut oil on his skin - the kind you use for cooking ⇾ atsumu sat through three hours of his brother telling him what was good for his skin and what was bad - coconut oil was bad especially for his oily face ⇾ as an adult though, he has the money to spare to get facials and visit a dermatologist regularly ⇾ ironically became the face of a new skincare line and osamu never laughed harder when he saw the ads

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

⇾ not super involved as a teenager but knows what products work for him and what don’t ⇾ definitely reads the ingredients and knows the good stuff from the bad stuff ⇾ doesn’t mind splurging on a product or two in high school, but nothing more than that he’d rather spend his money on food ⇾ as an adult it’s up to his mood on whether he would drop money for skincare or not ⇾ he enjoys getting microdermabrasion facials and gets one every 6-8 weeks to help his skin cell turnover rate ⇾ never misses his nighttime routine but not because he’s dedicated to his skin, but because he uses the time to relax before bed and just unwind ⇾ will have either relaxing music playing or complete silence as he does his routine - do NOT talk to him while he’s doing this though it’s his ‘me’ time just like when he works in the kitchen but that’s neither here nor there he needs a lot of ‘me’ time ⇾ if he can’t go to his facial, he will be working in the kitchen with a headband pushing his hair back and sheet mask on ⇾ has an anonymous blog where he rates and reviews new skincare products that’s pretty popular

#kageyama tobio #kenma kozume #kuroo tetsurou #oikawa tōru #iwaizumi hajime #miya atsumu #miya osamu #hq #haikyuu!!#haikyuu hcs #hq hcs

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rivetgoth · 4 years

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I had this friend I met in the Hetalia fandom in like 8th-9th grade who was like, a lot older than me (I was like 12-13 when we met and she was like 17 or so), and we were REALLY close for a really long time, we'd talk and call every day and it got to a point where she was really dependent on me in this awful way where she would like constantly threaten suicide if I didn't answer her texts fast enough and shit like that. She was really rich cuz her dad was a doctor and one time she bought me an entire fucking Xbox One (I did not ask for it like... I'd always been a PlayStation gamer LOL) because she didn't have anyone to play Halo with her. My family still has it and uses it as a DVD player/Netflix machine.

Anyway the really batshit thing about this person (BESIDES the fact that she was like, definitely a pedophile who loved shota and frequently sexted me after she'd turned 18+ and I was like 14 and she also had both a bestiality and incest fetish that she'd talk to me about constantly — I was a kid I had no moral concept of anything and just liked being edgy and feeling mature) was that she was like. A chronic liar who constantly faked identities. And for years after cutting off contact with her I would look back and realize that she had faked even more than I had noticed at the time. The thing is, I knew for sure she wasn't lying about her home life -- Her address, what she looked like, her dad's profession, her age, her house, her pets, etc, were all things I had proof of. But when I knew her she was constantly remaking her Tumblr to escape drama she'd start, and she would constantly make side blogs under pseudonyms and pretend it wasn't her (sometimes it would be random shit like aesthetic blogs under different names or ask blogs for characters or smthn, other times it was like, callout blogs for people she had gotten into drama with where she would pretend to be someone else defending her). I assumed back then that I was always going to be in on it, because she would always tell me whenever she made one of these fake accounts, and sometimes she would encourage me to make a new account too as a sort of roleplay thing where we both pretended to be people we weren't... Until I learned that she wasn't always telling me. Every so often, I would become mutuals with a new account who would start messaging me about my interests and strike a conversation with me. Then something would slip and my "new mutual" would admit that they had actually been my friend all along... Which should have made me immediately cut contact because that's weird as shit, but I was young and she was a close friend, so I would just sorta accept it.

She ended up being like, horrifically transphobic. She got run off her blog twice for being specifically transmisogynistic, first insisting that she was allowed to headcanon canon trans women as feminine men and then on her next blog insisting that lesbians couldn't be attracted to trans women. I was still young and closeted and she was one of my closest friends and was constantly messaging me that the situation was making her suicidal and she was just wording things wrong and totally supported trans people and people just weren’t giving her the benefit of the doubt and she was still learning so I tried to just stay out of it without losing her. Then... I came out as trans lol. She stopped replying to me when I first came out and then made a bunch of vents on her tumblr about how much it upset her and about how “using he/him pronouns for AFAB people is triggering” for whatever fucking reason. She told me her “best IRL friend” who she had introduced me to once on Skype but who never logged in again after and who refused to ever do a group call or anything (definitely another fake account) said that it was irrational for me to expect my friends to respect my pronouns so soon after coming out and that I shouldn’t be upset if I get misgendered. Then she apologized but told me my name and pronouns would never fit me. As you can imagine, as a little baby trans kid who was closeted from my family and terrified of even having come to terms with being trans, I didn’t really have a great defense.

Soon she started being really woke like 2014 style Tumblr SJW to save face, she came out as nonbinary and told me in private it was because she felt bad when people called her cis during discourse (she absolutely wasn't nonbinary) and she coined a "new sexuality" that was "attraction only to people you perceive as feminine, regardless of how they identify" -- what this actually meant was "attraction to cis women and not trans women." She ran an aroace help blog despite not being aroace? And made a bunch of pride flags that I still see around sometimes to this day. She would start fights a lot and try to out-woke people and got into a bunch of drama with other SJW types of the day, got into a bunch of drama with TumblrInAction and Mogai-Watch and shit like that, and she claimed for a short while that she had a headmate (FWIW I totally believe DID is a legitimate thing but like. Trust me on this one.) who was transphobic and that it made her so sad, she told me that it was actually that headmate that had been transphobic before, and every so often her headmate would front out of nowhere and misgender me and use really abusive language like calling me a cunt or a bitch or whatever. She started making these "intersex nonbinary" OCs who she would constantly make porn of under the guise that they were representation for LGBT people who were just like, extremely fetishistic cuntboys and dickgirls (they were “intersex” to explain why they could be “girls with natal penises” or “boys with natal vaginas”).

At that same time, she somehow always managed to have these random, very sporadically active trans women mutuals who were apparently amazing friends of hers, who shared some interests with her but also would defend her when people brought up her past, with these long-winded “Well, I’m a trans woman and I think what she said is perfectly justified and everyone makes mistakes and she’s always been a good ally!!” Then one day some trans woman received an ask from her account where she claimed to be a “black trans woman” (she was, of course, a white cis woman) and she freaked out and claimed she had “been hacked by TiA or 4Chan to make her look bad” — I realize now she had just been sending anon messages pretending to be things she wasn’t and forgot to hit anon LOL. Late in all of this she also got into a bunch of hot water for being really antisemitic and saying she didn’t trust Jewish people because they were just like Christians and like, 5 seconds later she came out as Jewish and wrote this whole long sad vent about how she had had internalized antisemitism and then started going by a random Hebrew name LMAO.

In the end the final breaking point was when I found her secret TERF blog, where she had been making posts for months about how trans men are just insecure women who are trying to escape misogyny by stepping on the backs of “fellow women” and using me as a fucking example, and also saying that me not coming out as a trans man had been “basically rape” since she had been SEXTING me when she was 18+ and I was 13-14+ and that it was traumatic to know someone she had trusted was secretly identifying as a man LMAO. She was also obviously saying all sorts of transmisogynistic things, but also had these really bizarre fetish posts about wanting trans women to fuck her...? I confronted her about it and she literally fucking out of nowhere told me that she was in the emergency room with a mysterious illness that might kill her and she was allowed to have her phone but due to privacy laws couldn’t send a picture as proof. While “in the hospital” she deleted the TERF blog and her personal blog. I had known her for literal YEARS at this point (we had met when I was 12-13 or so and by the time we no longer spoke I was a few months from 17), and I was completely stunned to fucking hear this person trying to pull “I’m in the hospital with a deadly disease” at being confronted for some shit like that LMAO. I made a post about it on my public and another “trans woman friend” of hers logged in to vehemently defend her by saying that there’s nothing wrong with AFAB women being untrusting of trans people because female oppression is uniquely traumatic and that there’s nothing wrong with women expressing their sexuality by sexting minors as long as the minor consents and that I was the real predator for “hiding that I was a man” (remember, I’d been a 13 year old closeted trans boy), before never logging in again... 😭 One of the last times we ever talked was when she demanded I refund her for the fucking Xbox and I refused.

Anyway, the long-term aftermath of that is that a few people online (in some random cringe areas of the internet) who archived some of her antics still think that I also wasn’t a real person, since they caught onto how much she lied about too, so they think I was also a sock puppet and I have no interest in clarifying and making myself known to those people LOL. I have no fucking idea where she is now, she deactivated everything after her being a TERF came out. There’s like, so much more to that I could say because I knew her for YEARS and, like I said, she was one of my “closest friends.” Her parents had wildly expensive pure bred designer dogs that she would make Vines of. She wrote Beatles real person fan fiction. For her birthday one year I made her a shirt on Zazzle with an inside joke about one of her OCs... does she still have that? Either way, she was easily the most batshit person I’ve ever known closely online and I will forever associate the Hetalia fandom with people like that.

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dinokolombo · 3 years

Text

Pouli Island

Welcome to my first story that I’ll be posting on this blog. It’s pretty basic, vacation goes downhill into horror town. I’m pretty new to this whole writing/social media thing so if anybody has advice it’ll be greatly appreciated!

Rating: T (sexual themes, language, suspense, horror imagery)

Length: 9081 (~45 min at 200 WPM)

It was around noon when we had reached the island. The warm summer breeze blew over crystalline waters. We were on a small boat, part of a rental service that brings people who can’t afford an entire cruise vacation to the island. It was still fairly expensive, though. Tracy sat next to me in the cabin of the ship when Vanya poked her head in through the doorway.

“Hey, lovebirds. We’re almost at the island. Get your shit ready.”

Once Vanya left, Tracy grabbed my hand tightly. “I’m so excited! Thank you so much for this trip, Tommy. It means a lot to me.”

I smiled at her. “I just wanted to give you a break from work, that’s all. You deserve it with everything you’ve done for me.”

She wrapped her arms around me. After a short hug we got up and left the cabin. It had been almost four years since I had even seen saltwater. I took Tracy to the front of the boat to meet up with Vanya and Rose. The boat slowly came to a stop at one of the private docks, which were on the westernmost side of the island. The captain called out to the four of us.

“Welcome to Pouli Island! Make sure you folks don’t forget anything, we won’t be back until three nights from now!”

“Thank you so much, sir!” Rose shouted back. She turned to Vanya. “Let’s go explore the town! I want to see all the people!”

Vanya groaned. “Calm down a bit, Rose. We just got here, we still have plenty of time before we have to check into the hotel.”

Rose basically ripped Vanya off of the boat, dragging her down the dock excitedly. Tracy took my hand.

“Come on, I can hear music!”

I could hear it too. Small drums, guitars, and all other kinds of instruments seemed to be playing an upbeat tune from the town. Once all four of us got off of the dock and made it into town, I saw the source. A handful of people were playing in the plaza. There was a traditional island beat to the music, like playful waves moving up and down a sandy shore. There was one instrument that stood out, however. A flute, playing quietly behind the others, released a melancholy tune that weaved through the other notes in the music. Tracy didn’t seem to notice. She was bouncing to the joyful bongos, swaying to the playful guitars. I couldn’t help but focus on the flute, though. It was entrancing, absorbing. Before it felt like I was completely lost in the music, the band stopped, and the small audience around them clapped. Each player walked away in different directions, and the audience dispersed.

“Wasn’t that really good?” Tracy was still bouncing a little, as if the music was still playing.

“It was nice.”

“Nice? That’s it?”

“I mean, I liked it, I just think the flute was out of place.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Flute? I didn’t hear a flute.”

“It was really quiet.”

Tracy chuckled. “Come on. There’s more of the city to see.” She kissed my cheek, once again taking my hand and guiding me deeper into the town. She didn’t usually act this loving, although when she did it was mostly in private. Now she was willing to show it in front of complete strangers, in a foreign place. It made me happy, yet anxious at the same time.

As we walked through the town, we got to see more of the local culture. Foods of various kinds were served all over the place, ranging from grilled meats to fresh vegetables and even frozen treats like popsicles. Children were playing with a ball in the streets while their mothers sat at nearby tables and laughed over a cup of coffee. Everything seemed to be full of energy and happiness, until we were almost out of town. In one of the many narrow alleyways, a small old woman ran into us, holding her hand out as a signal for us to stop. Tracy greeted her.

“Hello, ma’am!”

The woman looked up at her, then at me. She smiled as she looked into my eyes. “Child, have you seen them yet?”

I pulled my head back in confusion. “What?”

“The shadows, child. The ones who walk this island.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” “You’ve seen them elsewhere, haven’t you? In the corners of your vision. At the foot of your bed. Always watching…”

“I’m sorry, what are you--?”

Tracy cut me off. “Ma’am, please. We’re trying to enjoy our vacation.” She walked past the old woman, signalling for me to follow closely.

As we walked away, the woman called out to us. “They come at night, child! Be careful!” Tracy began walking faster, and we eventually turned back onto the main street and started our way out of the town. It was clear she was upset. When we reached the dirt road that left town and stretched all the way to the hotel, we stopped walking. I texted Vanya that we were waiting for her, then turned to Tracy.

“Hey, you okay?”

She sighed. “Yeah, that lady was just ruining the whole vibe. I was getting into exploring the city and talking to locals, then she had to make things weird.”

I agreed with her, yet at the same time I couldn’t help but shake the feeling that maybe something wasn’t right with this place. It was as if a strange energy flowed through everything, everyone. As if that flute was constantly playing in the background of every interaction, big or small. It made me nervous, but I hid the feeling away. This trip was for Tracy, after all. It wouldn’t be right for me to act in a way that would make it less enjoyable for her.

When Vanya and Rose finally met up with us again, we began the long walk from the town to the hotel. It was on the opposite side of the island, although the island wasn’t too big. Taxi services were available, but they’re fairly pricey, and I had already spent a decent amount on the ferry service to the island itself. Thankfully, Rose talked the whole way. She explained every little thing that she and Vanya did at the town, like how they missed the band because she wanted to chase a blue butterfly down an alleyway, or how a man tried to get her number but was met with a very angry Vanya. The goofy stories made the walk go by quickly, and before we knew it we had reached the entrance to the hotel.

The lobby was a massive hallway. It was two stories tall, with a crystal chandelier hanging from the tall ceiling. It was mostly empty, save for a few families sitting on couches to our right. Vanya immediately went to the receptionist, so the rest of us walked towards the far side of the large room. The wall facing the beach was entirely made of glass, giving us a good view of the beach. The sun was setting now, the water reflecting flame-like hues from the darkening sky. Tracy and Rose continued to look out the window while I scanned the rest of the lobby. Small staircases on either side of the room took you to the second floor of the lobby. There, rows of doors led to various rooms. A hallway also stretched from the second floor to the mall attached to the hotel. I looked down, seeing the many rugs covering the lobby floor. Most had the stereotypical beach aesthetic, with shells, fish, and coral being evenly spread about to create the sense that we were walking on an ocean. In all honesty, it wasn’t a look I was very fond of. Having grown up surrounded by similar sights, they’d completely lost their appeal to me. Vanya finally walked away from the receptionist’s desk, holding two keycards in one of her hands and a pamphlet in the other. She approached me first, as the other two were talking by the glass wall.

“Take this.” She handed me one of the keycards, marked “406”. “They also gave me this paper about the island, you want it?”

“Nah, maybe one of them does.” I gesture towards Rose and Tracy. Vanya took long strides towards them. When she reached them, she held out the pamphlet. Rose swiped it from her hand, read it for a moment, then handed it to Tracy. She folded it neatly before tucking it away in her pocket. The three of them exchanged some more words before Rose dragged Vanya towards one of the elevators. Tracy skipped towards me.

“Do you have our keycard?”

“Yeah, Vanya gave it to me.” I show her the blue card. “You ready to head to the room?”

“You know it, walking around town made me exhausted!”

We tried to get on the same elevator as Rose and Vanya, but Rose had already closed the doors in her excitement, so we got on the second elevator. The walls looked like copper, and were as reflective as a mirror. I grabbed onto one of the small railings as Tracy hit the button to our floor. The elevator moved slowly, playing a soft song similar to the ones we heard in the town. Almost by instinct, I tried listening for a flute, but there was none. When we had reached our floor, we stepped out of the elevator and turned left. I used the keycard on the door labelled “406”, hearing a click in the handle. I opened the door and walked into the dark room, examining my surroundings. A small kitchenette was to the left of the entrance, with the bathroom being across from it. Walking further into the room revealed a king-sized bed to my right, with a small table and a large flatscreen against the opposite wall. A glass door on the farthest wall lead to a small balcony, which overlooked the beachfront.

I threw my bag under the table and jumped onto the bed, groaning loudly. Tracy jumped on top of me, making me groan even louder.

“Why are you so heavy?”

“Excuse me?! That’s a little rude, you know.”

I chuckled to myself. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”

She scoffed as she got off of me, sitting upright at the edge of the bed. “You better be.”

I shuffled over, sitting next to her. “How are you liking the trip so far?”

“I like it, but it only just started. I’m sure it’ll get a lot better once we actually go to the beach.”

I frowned. “Did you not enjoy the town? It seemed like you were having a good time.”

She shook her head. “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that. I loved the town! I’m just more excited for the beach.”

My frown disappeared. “Well, I hope it lives up to your expectations.”

She looked into my eyes, smiling. “Even if it doesn’t, I’m sure it’ll be fun to spend some quality time with you.”

I chuckled to myself before standing up and kissing her softly on the forehead. “I’ll be right back, got to use the bathroom real quick.”

“All right! I’ll get a cup of cold water ready for you.”

“Thank you.” I walked away from the bed, past the small table, and into the bathroom. It was a little small, although that was to be expected from one of the cheaper rooms in the hotel. I pulled my pants down and sat onto the toilet, relieving myself. The silence of the bathroom was eerie, almost piercing. I could hear Tracy pouring water into a cup and giggling to herself, but it sounded distant, as if she was three rooms away from me. When I was finished, I pulled up my pants and washed my hands. The water that came out of the sink was cold, almost freezing. It reminded me of the mountains, the place I called home. It always fascinated people how I had left the lush tropical paradise I was born in so quickly. Many of them didn’t realize that paradise tends to get boring quickly. I walked out of the bathroom and saw my cup on the table. I walked over to grab a sip, the cool water flowing down my throat. I sighed deeply before turning to Tracy, who was completely covered by the blanket except for her face.

“What, are you cold?”

“Maybe a little. Why don’t you come here and help me warm up?”

I understood the situation then. I laughed. “You know, you can be direct with me.” I walked over to the bed, taking everything off but my underwear and sliding under the covers. Tracy held the blanket tight against her body, making sure I didn’t catch any previews.

“There’s no fun in being direct. Besides, I know you love it.”

I slid close to her, feeling her body against mine. She definitely wasn’t cold. She wrapped her arms around me, and I did the same back. We shared a deep and passionate kiss, before she pulled away suddenly. “I just realized we forgot to take showers.”

“We could continue this there…”

“You know, you’re a genius.”

I got out of the bed first, making sure my phone was plugged in and face-down. “I’ll wait for you there.”

“Just go already!” She giggled to herself as I rushed to the bathroom.

~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up the next morning exhausted. We had stayed up late the previous night, yet I still managed to wake up early. I turned to see my phone, face-up. Hmm, that’s weird. I thought to myself. I don’t remember moving it. I tried to think about the night before, but my mind was occupied by other thoughts. After shaking them away, I grabbed my phone and checked for any notifications. Nothing. I put it back face-down and wiped my eyes. To help me wake up, I looked around the room, at the pictures of various parts of the island hanging around the place, and at the wallpaper that was tearing slightly at its old edges. My eyes then locked onto my water cup from the night before, seeing that it had been moved to the opposite side of the table. I got up, looking around the room and checking to see if anything else had been moved, but there was nothing. I turned to the door to see any signs of forced entry, only to see it completely unlocked. I panicked, searching through our bags to see if anything was stolen, but nothing was touched. My sudden movements caused Tracy to wake up with a jolt.

“Jesus, Tommy, you scared the shit out of me. What are you doing?”

I realized I was crouched on the ground like an animal, so I stood up before responding. “Some things were moved around, and the door was unlocked, so I’m making sure nobody broke in.”

She had a sad look in her eyes. “Are you sure you weren’t sleepwalking again? I’m sure everything we did last night didn’t let your brain properly prepare for sleep. Plus, you can’t open the door from outside, even if it’s unlocked. That’s what the keycards are for, right?”

Maybe she was right. I put everything back into the bags I was looking through and walked back to the bed, sitting down on my side. “Sorry, guess I was spooked for no reason. How are you doing?”

“Well, I’m a little tired, but I’m all right.” She put her hand against my head, probably to check if I was sick. “What time is it?”

I checked my phone. “Around seven thirty. I’ll start brewing some coffee for us, I’m pretty sure Vanya and Rose will be up any second now.”

I stood up from the bed and moved into the small kitchen. I checked the cabinets until I found a coffee machine, placing it carefully on the table and plugging it in. After filling the reservoir with water and putting a coffee packet into it, I pressed a few buttons to get the water boiling. At this point Tracy was out of the bed, doing her morning stretches. She walked to her bag, giving me a kiss on the cheek as she passed by. She picked it up and grabbed her swimsuit out of it.

“I’m gonna change real quick.” She walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. I decided to do the same, grabbing my black swimming trunks and sliding them on. I had forgotten about the netting in them, and they were immediately uncomfortable. I took them off and cut the netting out before putting them on again. Much better. She walked back out the door wearing a thin yellow beach dress.

Tracy and I sat at the small table, sipping on warm coffee and waiting for either Rose to text us or for Vanya to bang on our door. We heard them in the room next to us, room 405. It sounded like they were making jokes and laughing together. Rose was the only person who could ever make Vanya smile. Even though we’re best friends, the most I could get out of her was a snort. Despite their laughter, it was clear that they were moving around and getting ready for the day.

Tracy put her empty cup down. She always drank coffee very quickly. “So, what do you have planned for us today?”

I put my cup on the table as well. “We’ll be swimming at the beach for a while, one of the small ones the hotel owns right here. Then I have a few jet skis I rented out for two o’clock, so we can ride those for a little bit. For dinner we’ll be eating at the beachside restaurant, and then we’ll go to the game room to relax for a bit before we hit the hay.”

Tracy giggled excitedly. “I hope today goes super well! I’ve been waiting for a long time to see a beach. Wait, how many jet skis did you rent? One for each of us?”

“Oh, no way. They’re pretty pricey, so I rented two, one for each couple. Plus, I wouldn’t trust you on a jet ski.”

“Are you saying I’m a bad driver?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

She jokingly slapped my arm while I laughed. “You’re such a jerk.”

“I love you too.” My phone vibrated on the table, grabbing both of our attention. It was a text from Rose.

Vanya and Rose were waiting outside of our door. Rose looked like a native, wearing a straw hat and a pink beach skirt over her swimsuit. Vanya, on the other hand, was wearing her black wetsuit. They contrasted each other like night and day.

“Good morning, guys!” Rose was as chippy as ever. “Are you ready to head to the beach?”

I checked the time on my phone. Seven fifty. “Yeah, they’ll be serving breakfast in ten minutes. Let’s head down to the dining room.”

This time we all managed to get on the elevator together. That same island music was playing, and like before I tried hearing for the flute. Nothing but drums and ukuleles. When we reached the ground floor, we walked through the massive lobby and turned into a large room filled with tables and chairs. The hotel serves three meals a day here, and all of them are complimentary with the stay, despite the many restaurants on the island. We all got into a surprisingly small line and grabbed breakfast before sitting back down. We mostly ate in silence, so I turned to a small T.V. that was against one of the nearby walls (there were many in the room). It was playing an ad for the resort and other places on the island. The monotonous tone of the woman’s voice was as uninteresting as anything could be, until she started explaining the island’s history.

“Many years ago, native islanders had settled onto this island and given it its name. They were only here for about two years before suddenly disappearing. Researchers have tried to find out why, only to find nothing. Many believe the secret lies in the untapped wilderness to the island’s north, while others say the answer lies all around us. Could you uncover the mystery of Pouli Island?”

For some reason it reminded me of the old woman from the town. I shook my head and scarfed down what was left of my breakfast. Everybody else had finished before me. “Are we all ready to head out?”

Vanya groaned. “I might’ve eaten too much. Do we have to go swimming right away?”

Rose suddenly got excited. “We can tan for a bit before swimming!”

“Rose, I’m wearing a wetsuit. Plus, I don’t really tan, that’s why I’m so pale.”

“The only reason you’re pale is because you never go outside! Although I guess your wetsuit will get in the way…”

Tracy laughed. “We did bring sunscreen, right? Vanya and I will definitely need it.”

I looked through the small bag I brought with me. “Yep, we have sunscreen.”

Tracy stood up first. “Let’s get going, then!”

We all followed suit, grabbing our things and leaving the dining room before walking out of the lobby’s main entrance. We followed a brick path that quickly turned to soft sand. It took us around the hotel as we walked by several tiki huts. It was still fairly early, but many of the huts were already occupied by people drinking and playing music. We walked past them until we got to a calmer side of the beach. Only two other families were there at the time, so we had plenty of space. The ocean was absolutely beautiful. It had the iridescent shine of an aquamarine gemstone, and was so clear that we could see fish swimming through the coral reef in the distance. The sand was soft, almost impossibly soft. There were no sharp edges whatsoever, as if the hotel hired people to meticulously pick up shells that would be unpleasant to visitors. I laughed at the idea. Tracy heard me as she was laying out a few towels for us.

“What’s so funny, mister?”

“Ah, nothing. Just thinking silly thoughts.”

“All right, put some sunscreen on already. I want to get in the water with you!”

The women had already applied sunscreen, and Vanya was racing Rose to the water. I guess Vanya’s stomach didn’t hurt anymore, either that or her competitive spirit made her forget all about it. I took off my shirt and put sunscreen over my entire body. Even though I had more tolerance to the sun than the others, I knew living in the mountains and snow for so long meant that I could still get burnt easily. Once the lotion dried, I ran with Tracy to the water and jumped in. The cool water was refreshing after being in the hot sun. I opened my eyes underwater like I used to when I was young. The water was still perfectly clear, and I could see the fish moving between our legs. We swam in the water for hours, occasionally stepping out to play in the sand. By the time we finished constructing a gigantic sandcastle, we were completely exhausted.

I went to my phone to check the time. One o’clock. “Hey, why don’t we go grab lunch? I’m sure there’s something by the jet ski rental place, so let’s look over there.”

Tracy was the only one that heard me. Vanya and Rose were still in the water. “What time is it, babe?”

“One.”

“You said the jet skis were rented for two, right? We might as well head over there.” She grabbed a towel and started drying herself off. “Do you wanna grab the other two? Or do you want me to do it?”

“Nah, I got it. Hey, Vanya! Rose! We’re gonna go get lunch!”

Rose jumped out of the water. “Yay, food!”

Vanya laughed at her, trying her best to cover it up. We all dried off and headed over to the jet ski rental place. I was right, there were plenty of little bars serving all kinds of food and drinks. There were a lot of people here, and it started to make me a bit nervous. I could tell many of them were drunk, their words were slurred and their movements were uneven. Their conversations carried with them that same strange sound from before. That same flute, echoing through sentences, footsteps, even the waves seemed to carry it. I grabbed Tracy’s hand, and without saying a word she squeezed my hand tightly. She knew I could get nervous from time to time, and she knew how to comfort me. We reached one of the more empty bars and began to order food.

Vanya spoke first. “I’ll have the beef bowl, extra beef.”

Rose was next. “A caesar salad, please! Oh, could I have a side of fries with that? Thank you!”

Tracy’s turn. “I’ll just have a burger. Yeah, everything on it is fine.”

The man working at the bar turned to me, and I froze. I was so focused on staying calm, I forgot to think of what to get. Tracy quickly spoke up for me. “He’ll have the same thing as me, just no tomatoes.”

The worker nodded and disappeared into the back before walking back out and helping other customers. I sighed.

“Thanks, Tracy. I owe you one.”

“It’s no biggie. Everything all right?”

“Yeah, yeah, just a little shook for some reason. I’ll be fine.”

She smiled at me, holding onto my hand tightly. “I’m so grateful you did this for me, you know that?”

“I know, I know. Like I said yesterday, I just wanted to give you a break from work.”

She kissed me. It was a little unexpected, so I kind of fell backwards. “I really appreciate that.” The worker came up to the four of us, handing out our meals. My burger was absolutely delicious, I could tell the meat was fresh. I even tried a bit of Vanya’s beef bowl, and that was good too. I guess when you pay for quality you should expect it, but the food was so good I completely lost all of my worries. Once everyone was finished eating, we were all energized again. We walked away from the bar and to the jet ski rental. There were two people working there, a man standing by the jet skis and a woman at a counter. I got into the line for the counter when the woman screamed suddenly.

“Tommy! Your rental for two o’clock is ready! If you’re here, go see Dylan by the jet skis!”

I slipped out of line and rejoined the group. “Come on.” I motioned for them to follow. I walked up to the man, who I now knew was Dylan.

“Hey! You Tommy?”

“Yep. Just here to grab my two rentals.”

“Sweet. Do at least one of you know how to drive?”

“Two of us, me and her.” I pointed to Vanya, who nodded. Vanya had the most experience with jet skis, but I’ve ridden a few in the past.

“Awesome! Here are your keys.” He gave them to Vanya and I. “Once you get them started, just go ahead and take them out of the bay slowly. When you’re out past the green buoys, you’re all good to go full speed!”

“Thank you.” The four of us walked past him, getting onto our jet skis. Vanya and Rose were quick, with Vanya being able to start the engine and pull out of the bay almost instantly. Tracy sat behind me as I put the key into the ignition, starting the engine. I slowly pulled on one of the handles, moving it back and feeling the engine hum under my legs. I moved away from the small pier the jet skis were lined up on, following Vanya and Rose. We cruised away from the beach, moving at a steady pace until we passed the buoys. Vanya turned to me, a competitive smile on her face.

“Hey, how about a quick race?”

“You sure, Vanya? It’s their first time, I don’t want to scare them.”

“Oh, they’ll be fine!” Vanya went full speed in a circle, causing Rose to squeal and cling onto her tightly. “See? Come on, they’ll love it.”

I turned around. “Are you cool with going really fast?”

Tracy nodded. “Be careful, okay?”

I planted my feet and grabbed the handlebar. “Might wanna hold on tight.”

The speed was incredible. We zipped over the water, flying at sixty miles per hour over the surprisingly flat water. I managed to win the race this time, which obviously bugged Vanya, but everybody had fun nonetheless. Taking a look around, I realized how far we had gone from the original beach. There were no buildings on the island here, just dense forest. We were surprisingly close to the island’s mountain, its peak towering over us. A breeze came out of the forest. It was cold.

Tracy tugged on my shirt a bit, grabbing my attention. “How long are we allowed to rent the jet skis for?”

I stared into the woods, feeling the cold air. “I’m not sure but we better head back.” I heard a strange noise. I tried to listen to it, but Vanya interrupted my concentration.

“That race kind of scared Rose, so we’ll take it easy back. You guys can go fast if you want.”

I continued looking at the forest. “Nah, we’ll stay with you guys.” I turned away, and we moved slowly back to the beach. As we moved away from the trees, I could still hear the sound over the loud engines. Soft and shrill, as if it was produced by that cold wind. It was almost like the sound of a flute, beckoning us to come closer to the forest.

When we finally reached the beach again, we moved into the bay and parked our jet skis on the pier. The rental guy walked to us. “How was the ride?”

Rose jumped up and down like a kid. I could tell the guy watched her chest move. Vanya seemed pissed. “It was so much fun! We went super fast, and made it all the way to where the forest is!”

The guy was shocked. “The forest? You all went that far north?”

Vanya got in front of Rose, blocking the man’s curious eyes. “Yes. Were we not allowed to?”

He shrugged. “Well, normally we try to tell people to stay close to the beach, but it’s too late now. I’ll take your keys back.” Vanya basically tossed hers to him as she pulled Rose away. I handed mine to him.

“Sorry we left the beach, we got distracted while racing.”

“No worries, man. Take it easy.”

Tracy and I met back up with Vanya and Rose. I checked my phone to see the time. Three. “Dinner doesn’t really start until later. You guys wanna swing by the game room now?”

Tracy nodded. “Could we head to our rooms first? I’d like to get out of this swimsuit.”

“Yeah.” Vanya said. “We should probably just take showers now so we’re not covered in salt by the time we sit down for dinner.”

We walked around the beach again, going into the lobby. It was freezing inside, so we wrapped ourselves in our towels (except for Vanya, who’s wetsuit kept her relatively warm) and rushed into the elevator. When we reached our floor, we all stepped out and hurried into our rooms. I closed the door behind me.

“Quick, you or me first?” I asked.

“Why not at the same time?” Tracy answered.

“Again? We’re about to go eat dinner.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Ah, whatever. Maybe I did mean it like that.”

“Then let’s get in because I’m freezing!”

“Sounds like a plan!”

The game room was on the second floor of the lobby. It was completely empty, so we basically got to play whatever we wanted. There was a pool table, ping pong, air hockey, and even a few board games tucked away neatly in one of the corners. I personally wanted to play backgammon, but nobody else knew how to play, so that was shot down quickly. We started by holding a small chess tournament. I went up against Tracy and lost horribly.

“How many times have you played chess?” She asked me.

“I don’t know, a few times.”

She laughed to herself. “Okay, that explains a lot!”

She then went up against Rose, who was surprisingly good at chess. Vanya was furious at her loss, and dragged me to the air hockey table.

“I’m mad now. Let me beat you so I can feel better about it.”

“Vanya, it’s air hockey. I'm a killer at this.”

She moved to her side, grabbing her striker aggressively. “I’ll kill your face.”

“We’ll see about that.”

While Rose and Tracy quietly continued their game, Vanya and I played what had to be the most intense air hockey game of my life. She’s a strong woman, and could hit that puck so fast I couldn’t see it. Somehow, I managed to still hit it back to her, almost at the same speed. It would go back and forth, barely managing to stay on the table, until it would finally go into one of the goals. When Rose and Tracy finished their game, they came up to the table and watched us play. The score was a tied six to six. One more would win the game. Vanya held the puck in her hand.

“This is it. You ready to lose?”

“Normally I would say yes, but I actually think I’ll win this one.”

Vanya grunted. She carefully put the puck down on her side, grabbing her striker so tightly her knuckles turned white. In a flash her arm moved, sending the puck bouncing off the walls and straight towards my goal. I managed to hit it hard enough to send it straight back. We continued like this for almost ten minutes when I finally managed to slide the puck into her goal. She screamed in frustration. I screamed in excitement.

“Woah, you guys are intense!” Rose had wide eyes the whole time we were playing. “I couldn’t even see the thing moving around!” Vanya sighed in frustration, and Rose gave her a hug. “You did great, honey.”

I walked over to the other side of the table, extending my hand out. “Great game, Vanya.”

She shook my hand. “Whatever. I let you win.”

Tracy looked at the time on her phone. “It’s actually pretty late, guys. I think it’s time for us to eat dinner.”

Rose raised her arms in the air. “Woo! Fancy restaurant time!”

The restaurant wasn’t as fancy as we hoped. The main dining room was full of tables, many of which were occupied. There was a large stage near the front of the room, with a string quartet currently occupying it. We sat down and gave our waitress our order.

“Tracy, are you enjoying the island?” Rose asked her.

“Oh, yeah! It’s great!”

“That’s good to hear! What about you Tommy?”

“I’m actually having a lot more fun than I thought I would.” I looked around at the walls and ceiling. The architecture was fairly plain, and the paintings on the walls seemed to be of different places on the island. The girls continued to talk while I listened to the music. It was very quiet and mellow. When our food arrived, we were all somewhat upset with the bland taste, but tried our best to enjoy it nonetheless. Halfway through our meals, an announcement cut off the music.

“And now, we’ll have a special performance from our guest for the night, Lady Ombre! She’ll be playing a Pouli Island classic, something even the original islanders would play. Take it away!”

The room darkened, and light focused on a woman dressed in black on the stage. She had a wooden flute in her hand, and when she brought it to her mouth, she began playing a soft yet melancholic tune. It was entrancing, drawing everybody in the room to watch her performance. It was as if the notes themselves were trying to reach out to me. I began to feel anxious. I looked around the room quickly, seeing everybody watch her. I could also see things in the corners of my eyes. They looked like people, standing in the room, staring at me. The song reached its climax, the notes becoming faster and more aggressive. The shadows began laughing, as if they knew something I didn’t. Then the song was over, and the lights slowly came back on. The shadows were gone, and I let out a sigh of relief. Applause rose from across the dining room, then people went right back to their food. I wanted to ask the others if they saw what I did, but I brushed the thought away. Even if it was real, they probably wouldn’t believe me.

After finishing our meals, we walked back to our rooms, completely exhausted from the day’s activities. Very few words were exchanged, we mostly just walked in silence and said good night when we reached our rooms. As I closed and locked the door behind me, I heard Tracy flop onto the bed.

“I am so unbelievably tired. What time is it?”

I checked my phone. “Almost eleven. We should probably go to bed.”

She took off most of her clothes, leaving her underwear on. She slipped under the covers. “Are we going to the beach again tomorrow?”

“Nah.” I stripped to my boxer briefs and joined her in the bed. “We’ll be walking around the mall and checking out some of the small stores they have, grab a few souvenirs, that kind of stuff. It’ll be a more relaxed day than today.”

She yawned loudly. “Thank goodness!” She turned onto her side, facing me. “Not that I didn’t like the beach, but it is super tiring to be out in the sun all day.”

“Heh, I agree. It’s the reason I moved up north.”

“This place is nice, but I definitely prefer living in the mountains. All of this would just get stale too quickly.”

“Yup. I lived here for about nineteen years before I finally left.”

“Must’ve sucked.”

“It wasn’t all bad. I just wanted a change.”

She moved close to me, hugging me tightly. “Well, I’m very thankful you moved. Otherwise we would have never met.”

I smiled, then gave her a small kiss on the head. “All right, it’s bedtime.”

She gave me a kiss on the shoulder before moving away to her side of the bed. “Good night!”

“Good night.” I turned off the lamp next to me, the room turning dark. The only light source was the moon, which peered through the glass door and windows. Tracy was out instantly. I followed closely, the sound of wind outside lulling me to a deep sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of a door closing made me spring awake. I felt Tracy jolt up as well. I reached over and turned on the lamp, seeing our bags opened and things spread about everywhere. I jumped out of bed and ran to the entrance, seeing the door unlocked. I swung it open to see if I could catch who was in the room, but there was nobody in the hallway. I closed the door before moving back to the bed. Tracy seemed really tense.

“Babe, what was that?”

“I don’t know, I think somebody somehow got into our room.”

“Should we call the police?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll call them. You just breathe and relax.”

I didn’t actually know the number for the police, so I called hotel security instead, and they arrived with a few policemen. While Tracy stayed in the bed, I explained to the officers what had happened.

“We both woke up to the sound of our door closing, and our things were thrown around in the room.”

The officer I was talking to looked down at me. He was surprisingly tall. “So you heard them leaving, but not entering? How would they get into your room?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Did you lock the front door?”

“Yes, I’m certain of it.”

He leaned towards his partner, muttering a few words before turning back to me. “I’ll inform hotel security to guard your room and keep a watch on this floor. I’ll also have a few of my men stationed outside just in case. You two can go to bed now.”

After they left, I locked the door, even putting the chain onto it. I got into the bed, and Tracy gave me a big hug. She had been crying.

“I’m so happy you're okay.” She said it very quietly, almost a whisper.

“Yep, everything is okay now. The police and hotel security are going to keep us safe until we leave.”

“What if they come back?”

I held her tightly. “Like I said, everything is okay now. We’re safe, there’s nothing to worry about.”

Despite the situation, we both managed to eventually calm down by watching some funny videos on our phones. After I turned off the lamp, we shared one more hug before falling asleep in each other’s arms.

~~~~~~~~~~

We gave ourselves the morning to relax and drink our coffee while watching a movie on the room’s T.V. Around 10, Vanya knocked on our door, and we let both her and Rose in. While they sat at the table, I filled them in on what we experienced the night before.

Vanya scratched her head. “Well, at least you guys are safe now.” Rose was shaking, her normally immovable smile gone.

“Yeah.” I replied. “The police said they’ll keep watch of the outside and this hallway, just in case.”

“That’s reassuring.”

We all agreed that taking the day easy was the best option. We sat in the room talking and watching the T.V. until around noon, when we all decided to go to the lobby and grab lunch. On the way to the elevator, we noticed two security guards keeping watch over our hallway. I waved to one of them. They didn’t wave back.

After having sandwiches at the dining room, we headed to the second floor of the lobby, which had a hallway connecting it to the nearby mall. The walls of the hallway were adorned with pictures from around the island, with little snippets of information to match every photograph. I didn’t look at them too long. They made me feel anxious, as if there were something hiding in the dark corners, waiting to jump out from the still frames.

Entering from the second story of the mall was an interesting experience. The second floor was more like a raised walkway, with openings to see down into the first floor. Stores were everywhere, ranging from souvenir and jewelry shops to game stores and small restaurants. One of the stores even had two floors to itself. We walked around the mall for a few hours, window shopping and seeing what we would want to bring back home with us. At one point, Tracy motioned for me to come see something.

“Look at this necklace.” She pointed into one of the display cases of a small kiosk. It was a silver necklace, with a black jewel adorning it. The jewel seemed more like a rock, completely opaque and only shining with certain angles of light. The kiosk owner came up to us, a big smile on her face.

“Are you interested in our obsidian pendant? The obsidian rock is actually obtained from the northern part of the island, where lava has cooled and hardened. The silver is eighty percent pure, with a small bit of titanium mixed into it to ensure more durability and to prevent oxidation. If you’re looking for even more toughness, we also have obsidian pendants with pure titanium, however they won’t be as shiny.”

I turned to Tracy. “I think it’s pretty. Not too flashy, either.” I turn back to the kiosk owner. “How much would it cost?”

“The pure titanium version will cost around three-hundred, while the silver one will only be about fifty more.”

I went wide-eyed, looking at Tracy. She already had her card out. “I’ll take it!”

The kiosk attendance snatched her card quickly, her smile never wavering. “And will you be taking the silver or titanium variation?”

“Titanium, please.”

Tracy put the necklace on while we walked away from the kiosk, holding the obsidian up to admire it. We met up with Vanya and Rose in a small bakery, sitting down at a table they had been waiting at. Both of them seemed to love the pendant as well.

“The obsidian jewel is beautiful!” Rose exclaimed. “And I’ve heard that its energy can protect you from darkness.”

Tracy nodded. “I don’t really believe that stuff, but I will say I feel safer with this around.”

Vanya shook her head. “Energy or not, it’s gorgeous. I don’t even like jewelry and I would wear that.”

A waiter brought us croissants, which Rose ordered for us while we were at the kiosk. After we finished those, we started heading back for the hotel, since there wasn’t actually much to do or see in the mall. When we got back to our floor, there were new security guards in the hall. It made me much more comfortable, and I could tell by the girls’ joyous expressions that they were still able to have fun despite the previous night. I waved to one of the guards. They waved back this time.

We all decided to hang out in room 406, sitting down on the large bed and watching a movie on the T.V. It was a gritty action movie, and while they generally weren’t my favorite, I enjoyed relaxing with Tracy and the others. When the movie was over, we ordered pizza through room service. We got a large pepperoni pizza, along with a personal vegetarian pizza for Rose. We put another movie on (this time a comedy), and when it was finished it was almost eleven P.M. Vanya yawned loudly.

“Rose, I think it’s time for bed.”

“Oh, come on Vanya! Just one more movie, please?”

“We need to be up early to catch the boat going home, come on.”

When Rose didn’t move, Vanya picked her up and carried her out of the room. Tracy laughed loudly. I’m sure the guards outside laughed too. Wiping tears from her eyes, Tracy looked at me. “We should be heading to bed too.”

“Agreed.”

Before we got too comfortable, I went to the front door, locking it and putting the chain on. For extra security, I even made sure the balcony door was locked. I slipped my shirt and pants off before getting into bed with Tracy, who had already fallen asleep. I noticed the pendant on the nightstand next to her, the titanium reflecting the moon’s rays. I laid flat on my back, staring at the ceiling for a while before closing my eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~

When I opened them again, I was confused. It was still night, and no noise had startled me awake. I tried getting up when I realized I couldn’t move. I panicked for a moment before remembering that it was just sleep paralysis. I breathed slowly, taking a moment to scan the room before seeing it.

It stood at the foot of our bed, about the size and shape of an average man, yet it wasn’t a man. Despite the moon’s light, it was completely black. It twitched around, shaking frantically and moving its head and arms in ways no human could. A soft noise came from it every few seconds, like a quiet grunt. I tried my best to make it disappear, assuming it was another hallucination, but it stayed there. I even tried closing and opening my eyes, only to see it still shaking in the room. Now I was really panicking, trying my best to break out of my paralysis. It suddenly took a step, moving to the right side of the bed, Tracy’s side. It took another step. Its steps were stuttered and uneven, and it would stop for a moment before taking another one. It walked slowly towards Tracy. I followed it with my eyes, seeing as it stood over Tracy before leaning over her in a jerky movement. With an immense effort, I managed to turn my head, which caught its attention. It raised its head at me. I couldn’t see its mouth, nor its nose, but I saw its eyes. Large, almost circular eyes. It was as if its eyelids had been cut off.

After staring at each other for what felt like an hour, it suddenly stood up straight and stuttered away, walking frantically to the door. By the time I could fully move, I heard the front door close. I scrambled to it, seeing it was unlocked. I undid the chain and swung the door open, running out to the blinding beam of a guard’s flashlight.

“Sir, is everything all right?”

“Did you see a man leave this room?!”

The guard lowered her light. “No, sir. So far you’re the only person who’s left any room tonight.”

I shook my head. “Th-there was a thing in my room, and it ran out here. I swear!”

The guard got closer to me. “Sir, I assure you, there has been nobody else out here but you. Please, return to your room. We don’t want to bother the other hotel patrons.”

After locking the door behind me, I returned to the bed. Tracy was wide awake, shaking. “Did something happen again?”

“I… I don’t know.”

I explained what I saw to her. Her fear seemed to fade away. “Well, you do have a lot of sleep paralysis, and I’m sure what happened yesterday night really set it off.”

“But Tracy, I promise you this wasn’t normal sleep paralysis. This thing seemed real!”

She shushed me. “No need to be loud, everybody else is sleeping. I want to believe you, but there’s no way somebody could’ve gotten in, let alone run out without being seen by one of the security guards.”

I shook my head. I know what I saw had to be real, because I’ve had hallucinations, and they weren’t like that. Either way, I decided to drop it. “Let’s just go back to bed. We can talk about this another time.”

She hugged me, easing the worry I had that I had made her angry. “Good night.” She went back to her side, taking a moment to look at her pendant before falling back asleep. I laid down on my back again, but the image of those eyes never left my mind. I didn’t fall asleep for the rest of the night, staring at the ceiling until dawn. The silver light from the moon was slowly replaced with golden sunlight, and around eight I heard a knock at the door. When I opened it, Vanya was standing outside alone.

“Tommy? You look exhausted.”

“Thanks. Where’s Rose?”

“Getting ready. Tracy?”

“Sleeping. I’ll get her up.”

After everybody was up, Rose and Vanya stayed in our room while I explained what happened the night before. Vanya scratched her chin, thinking about the situation. “And you don’t think this was a hallucination?” I shook my head. Tracy sighed.

“Tommy, it had to be a hallucination. I think the trip triggered some memories or something that’s making your conditions worse.”

Vanya looked around the room. Her eyes locked onto the sliding glass door, which she approached with powerful strides. “Tommy, did you lock this door?”

“Yeah, I did.”

She pulled on the handle, the door opening with ease. She closed it, locked it, then pulled on the handle again. The door opened again, unlocking itself. “Maybe they got in through here.”

Tracy stood up. “That can’t be possible. We’re almost five stories off the ground, plus there were guards everywhere. Even if they got in, how did nobody see them leave?”

Vanya shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, how was both the front and sliding door unlocked when Tommy locked them both?”

“Guys, stop!” Rose was standing now, tears forming in her eyes. “This trip has already been scary enough, can’t we just get along until we’re home?!” Hearing her shout made me feel horrible. I had never seen Rose this upset before. I think it had a similar effect on the other two.

Vanya scratched her head. “Sorry, Rose. You’re right. Whether there was somebody here or not, everybody is okay, and that’s what matters.”

Tracy nodded. “Let’s just enjoy the rest of the day together.”

After checking out of our room and giving back our keycards, we began the walk back to the island’s town. The trip was mostly silent, with tension still existing between Vanya and Tracy. It was clear they were both upset they couldn’t win the argument from before.

When we reached the town we wasted no time, walking along the main road straight to the docks. The city was as loud as always, with music pouring onto the main street from several different alleyways. We got to the docks to find our boat waiting for us. The captain called out to us in his booming voice.

“Good morning! Climb aboard, I’ll be taking you home whenever you’re ready!”

The girls all went below deck, but I decided to go to the back of the boat instead. I watched as we drifted away from the dock, the boat turning and moving away from the island. As we moved further away, the music from the town seemed to slowly fade, being replaced by the sound of strong wind coming from the island. When I looked at the docks one more time, I noticed a figure there I recognized. It was the old woman, waving at me. It was then that I realized that the wind sounded like a flute, as if the island itself was trying to pull me back with a soft melody. I shook my head and walked into the cabin with the girls, closing the door behind me.

#writing #short story #story #horror #suspense #writing is literally the worst hobby ever why did i do this to myself

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benichi · 4 years

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please tell the story of what happened with BMP back then 😳 I’m shook

I shall! Gather around, today I‘ll tell you the story of the first big battle us overseas Otoge fans had to win.

[For those who don’t know what this is about or want to see more screenshots here’s the short version on my Twitter]

A little bit of background info before we start. Back in 2011 Voltage released „Pirates in Love“ which was pretty much the first English Otome game we ever got (before that was a release of Yo–Jin–Bo, which unfortunately flopped however). For a long while it was also the ONLY Otoge we had, with routes being released up to months apart. Funnily enough the first PIL release we got had also been edited, however since the internet and Otome games in general wasn‘t as much of a thing yet most people were unaware. Plus they actually made the characters whose appearance they changed appealing and it matched the overall style.

So BMP actually wasn‘t the first time they changed things to “appeal” the overseas market - but simply the most noticeable.

Slowly (very slowly lol) more Otome games would be released in english. Especially back in the day Voltage was one of our main content providers. After PIL which was released as a standalone app Voltage decided to try out a new medium here - GREE. Basically it‘s worked similar to how Cybird games are now. It didn‘t host Voltage games only however, but a bunch of different games from different companies. Voltage would only release 2 of their games on there before they got shut down: Be My Princess and Celebrity Darling (in that respective order.)

Small rant I actually liked GREE BMP more than the other version because MC had a job as a designer so this whole „you have to design/wear outfits to progress“ actually fit really well. Like I love BMP, it’s one of my comfort games. But GREE version was simply more interesting than “Oh I ran into these Princes on the street and now one of them has to randomly take me in” imo. Rant over lol.

BMP was actually up on GREE for a while, I managed to finish 3 routes while it was available (I‘m actually not completely sure if that‘s all they released before they decided to move on from GREE or if I was slow) but either way, shortly after Celebrity Darling got an English release Voltage decided to stop putting their games on GREE altogether. That’s when this whole mess went down.

People were obviously upset about losing all of their progress and content on GREE. Especially because it seemed like BMP was rather popular. Which is why Voltage decided to release the standalone app for it.

...

Just not in the way we wanted:

I’m still unsure exactly what compelled them to ever think this would go over well. Maybe the fact that they had edited some of PIL and no one ever really said anything about that played into it. Maybe they thought because Twilight was a big thing back then that girls would surely be into sparkly pale faced individuals with creepy smiles. We will probably never know just what went into the making of... THAT.

(No he doesn’t.)

But either way and as you can imagine people were m a d. It hit even harder because these were character we were familiar with. One moment we were dating charming 2D Princes - and the next we would be faced with these weird photoshopped/drawn pale dudes that just looked unsettling with their dead fish eyes. Plus despite the fact that all of these characters would be part of the same game they didn’t look like it. The princes (and art) had varying grades of horror - some of it didn’t look that bad but some was nightmare fuel.

(Not only Wilfred’s face, all of their faces were expressionless. Or creepy.)

So before the game was even released they got major backlash. Considering how incredibly niche Otoge were over here back then this incident actually got a lot of attention. Here’s an article that was published by Kotaku back in the day. However Voltage still went for it and despite everything released two routes (Wilfred & Keith) with their own... rendition. We can assume it didn’t sell well, plus even if our fandom was rather small back then we were incredibly vocal about our displeasure.

I mean we basically had nothing to lose. Releases were far and inbetween anyways - and if this would be the future of overseas Otome Games then we’d rather not have any at all. Luckily the nightmare ended eventually and Voltage released the standalone app of BMP as we know it. (They were actually planning to release an “international” version of LLFTX as well, but it never went beyond the planning stage.)

In retrospect this is a pretty funny incident now. It might have even helped Otoge get more attention because again, a lot of people became suddenly aware of this niche market. I guess we were fortunate that Voltage decided to pull this stunt AFTER they released the BMP GREE version. I’m not sure what would have happened if their own rendition would have been the second overseas release after PIL. Maybe Otoge would have simply been written off as weird and the market would have died before it even got a chance to grow. Or maybe people wouldn’t have found the art as “weird” since there wasn’t much to compare it to and there would have been an era of “Twilight aesthetic” Otoge made by Voltage for the overseas fandom lol.

Either way it did end well and those of us who went through this experience can laugh about it now. I actually used to have more posts of Twilight BMP on my blog but deleted most of them since Voltage had a time when they were going after tumblr blogs and I was scared they’d be displeased by those reminders of their early days by me haha.

As you can seen, right from the start things have never been easy for us. But we have always been resilient and we’ve got a great sense of humor that has gotten us through a lot. I hope you enjoyed this piece of Otome Game history!

#be my princess #bmp #voltage inc #voltage romance sims #otome game #otoge

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queenlua · 4 years

Text

The Good Game Critics TM (a giant post o’ links)

yesterday i was complaining:

damn, how come the only people who are writing The Good Video Game Criticism TM are exclusively relegated to… abandoned Blogspots and Tumblrs that haven’t been updated in five years…?

and someone asked:

addadashofpepper: can you like, post links to some of these? cause the thing about these is that they are really hard to find!

oh boy, tumblr user @addadashofpepper, i would be DELIGHTED to share. i dug through my RSS reader / bookmarks, and here’s what leapt out at me:

[under a cut because this got LONG and i got EXCITED]

ella guro: indie dev and creator of Problem Attic, which made a splash back in the day (a somewhat Braid-inspired platformer iirc). she’s mostly removed herself from the game scene these days, but she still blogs about artsy-culture issues from time to time, and if you dig through the archives, some of her old posts on games (probably circa 2012-2015?) are so so good

prophet goddess / blood church: i discovered them literally two days ago, but i’m digging what i see (their ladykiller in a bind review was the first post i stumbled on)

dead genre chronicles: a group of three friends did a monthly JRPG podcast, where they’d play a JRPG in its entirety and talk about it. see, they found mainstream discussions around JRPGs annoyingly stilted, including the term JRPG itself—like, we’re still using the term “JRPG” to mean “turn-based combat with funky anime aesthetics,” but that airbrushes over so many weird and fun and distinctive mechanics that developers inside-and-outside of Japan have been experimenting with, right?

they had a blog attached to the podcast, and the blog was ALSO excellent

unfortunately, they took their main website down a while back :( however:

you can get some of the old blog posts by fiddling with the wayback machine

becky backed up a bunch of her contributions to the site (i particularly liked her ffxv post & this sort-of ffxiii post that punched me in the face in a good way)

leeroy, one of the other contributors, blags here, though i don’t think he backed up his stuff from the original site

the entirety of the podcast is archived on libsyn and is very good if you’re into podcasts!

no don’t die: okay, this blog/interview series is AMAZING. and still active!!! ahh!!!

the whole concept is, this dude finds people who work in games. or used to work in games. or who ran a weird fansite for video games back in the early 00′s. or curate some video-game-shaped things as part of a museum exhibit. and so on, and so forth.

the dude has a knack for finding really interesting people with all kinds of windows/perspectives on games, and manages to get them to talk about really interesting things. two of my fave interviews: rebecca heinman, who ported Doom to 3DO in ten weeks on her own in utterly batshit conditions, and mustin, because i’ve got that overclocked remix nostalgia

my friend pokey: so, they’re on tumblr, they write in all lowercase, and their writing style tends to be on the dense and referential side, which ordinarily has all the warning signs of “all pretentiousness, no substance,” right? (i am not exempt from this, by the way; look at me typing in all lowercase like a scrub.) but, i’ve reliably gotten interesting insights out of their posts & have been surprised how often i mention their blog to a Friend Whose Aesthetic Tastes I Respect and they’re like “ah! i LOVE that blog!” also i liked their notes on chrono cross at the end of this post because i literally want to talk about chrono cross every waking moment of my life, come talk to me about chrono cross friends, etc

em reed’s blog is excellent. i really liked this post about what the phone/gacha game experience is like

auntie pixelante: anna anthropy’s old blog; still not sure why she didn’t archive it somewhere? but whatever, the wayback machine has your back. this early review of Gone Home is reasonably representative

tim rogers: i have kind of mixed opinions on him, but i do find something in his work compelling enough that i keep coming back to him, so.

the dude made his initial splash with his extremely long mgs2 review back in the day; there’s a slightly more recent archive too; he also does a lot of sadposting on medium that ranges from “guy in my MFA” to “fuck i can’t believe this dude’s making me feel feelings” in quality, ymmv. (he also apparently does video reviews now? that are like many hours long? and i am just not the youtube generation so i tapped out on that one bud)

tevis thompson: another critic i have mixed feelings about, but if you’re the kind of dork that enjoys reading stuff that Made A Splash At The Time, and like, nerd subculture histories, you'll have to read his “on videogame reviews” for that reason alone. i also really dug his 100-word video game reviews series

ludus novus: i haven’t read this dude’s blog in ages, but i liked it a lot when i read it in 2012ish and there’s TONS in the archives

emily short: an IF writer who goes way back. i haven’t read her blog lately, but the archives / older posts definiely have cool thoughts on the structure of interactive fiction

jonas kyratzes: indie game dev, creator of The Sea Will Claim Everything. he tends to blog about lefty politics and general arts stuff more frequently than he blogs about games, but he does blog games from time to time. i liked [1] and [2], for starters.

adam cadre: this guy goes waaay back in the IF scene and has made a bunch of Inform stuff. i’ve never actually played his games! but i like his blog a lot (convenient tumblr mirror here). he almost exclusively blags about books and movies and such these days, but if you dig you can find him talking about games sometimes. (also, Masterchef Australia, which he loved so much he wrote over fifteen thousand words about it and it’s one of my favorite bizarre blog posts on the internet)

the fool reversed: this blog is focused on LARP game design & issues around that, but i’d say it’s relevant to anyone interested in game-y topics. as a mostly-outsider to that scene, i thought this was a fun find!

annnd a few last ones:

i haven’t kept up with critical distance in ages, but it used to be a great way to find new game writers, and quite possibly still is, i dunno

while i’ve personally bounced off timber owls a few times, i know some folks who like their writing a lot

hope this helps!!! happy digging through internet archives and such

#link post

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queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm · 5 years

Text

Ok here me out, Marinette Project runway winner

This is for @ozmav @mindfulmagics @maribat-archive @realrandomposts for inspiring me to do this even though I’m probably annoying you people.

She moved to Gotham after defeating Hawkmoth to study abroad

During this time she begins her time on Project runway

Even after having commissioned her work to celebrities such as Clara Nightingale and Jagged Stone she is out in the bottom 3 in 2 occasions

This causes her to work even harder to win

Marinette creates looks based off of Ladybug, the miraculous team, and the heroes of Gotham (Chat’s Miraculous was taken long ago, before defeating Hawkmoth)

Her Robin look was the one that made her the win (it was a simple, but elegant black blazer with a small robin embroidered on the right breast pocket, a white-based shirt with prints that resembled a bird making its nest, black slacks, and brown dress shoes).

The judges loved her craftsmanship, “You have magic in the tips of your fingers!”

“The embroidery is so detailed, how did you have time for that?”

“I love it! Marinette Dupain-Cheng you are Project Runway’s 20XX’s winner!”

*Cue Marinette being so happy she burst into tears*

After this, she begins working on building her brand. She began shipping her clothes internationally. Her work becomes huge in Asia and blows up, K-pop and C-pop idols love her. BTS was once caught using her clothes as airport fashion. Jackson Wang and BOYSTORY are always wearing her clothes.

Because of this Marinette’s celebrity clientele, just became a heck of a lot bigger.

Jagged now brags about her work at every red carpet event he goes to (if he didn’t already).

“Jagged, please. Jagged no. Jagged why?”

Clara does the same, but not to Jagged’s extreme.

Marinette is constantly embarrassed by this and try’s her best to give credit to the other contestants she met on the show. They all loved her and were as happy as they could be when she won.

All of this leads to Jagged introducing Marinette to Bruce Wayne.

“I hear you’ve been Jagged’s exclusive designer since you were fourteen? That’s impressive.”

Marinette waves it off, “I was just trying to help a friend.”

“I was wondering if I could commission you to create mine and my sons’ next charity gala suits. I’ve seen your work and it is very practical, most of the designers sacrifice functionality and practicality for aesthetic. But you seem to know that there is more to it then looking nice, your work seems to be able to be on the go as well.”

Of course, Marinette agrees, “Y-Yes! I would love to!”

This leads to a later fitting session at the Wayne Manor to get their measurements.

“Ah, Ms. Dupain-Cheng, you’re early,” Alfred points out while Marinette waits for entry.

Alfred allowed for her to get inside after a moment.

“On time is late and early is on time, Mr?”

“Pennyworth, but you may call me Alfred. That is exactly what I always say, Madame.”

“Well, in that case, you can just call me Marinette.” She smiles at the well-seasoned gentleman.

The well-mannered man shows Marinette to the living area to wait on Bruce and his sons.

What she wasn’t expecting was for two men to come barreling down the stairs, locked in combat over a trivial subject. “Take it back, Todd!”

“Not a chance, Demon Spawn!”

“I’ll break every bone in your body so badly, that not even the Lazarus pits could undo the damage caused!”

“When you say things like that, you just prove my point!!”

Marinette silently watched as the two continued their squabble. ‘What’s a Lazarus pit? I’ll have to ask Master Fu.’ (After defeating Hawkmoth, Master Fu retrieved Tiki. But that didn’t stop her guardian training.)

Eventually, the two boys got physical and Marinette decided it was time to intervene.

“Say it AGAIN!”

“You are JUST like your grandfather! You bra-”

“Umm, excuse me... Who are you two?”

The two stop to see a small, French woman physically keeping the two apart. The boys look completely gobsmacked.

“The better question is who are you?”

“I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I’m here to get Bruce Wayne and his sons’ measurements for a piece he commissioned me to do. I’m a designer,” She said smiling, extending her hand.

Jason takes it before Damian, “I’m Jason Todd-Wayne, nice to meet you.”

Damian scowls, “How polite of you...” he murmured to himself.

Marinette looks to the boy who has yet to introduce himself, “And you are?”

Both Damian and Jason’s jaws dropped, she really didn't know who they were. She was in their house for Pete’s sake, “I’m Damian Wayne.” Damian took her hand and gave it a kiss for added effect.

“Show off,” could be heard from Jason’s direction.

Marinette didn’t care for what the peanut gallery had to say, she was bright red after Damian did that.

At this moment, Dick, Tim, and Bruce walked in at the same time.

“Ms. Dupain-Cheng, you’re early,” Bruce said walking to greet her.

“I didn’t want for you to wait for me, also you can just call me Marinette. It feels weird when someone older and with a much more esteemed reputation calls me Miss.”

Once she finished speaking, Tim basically ran to her at the speed of light. The Flash, who?

See all the boys enjoyed Jagged’s music, but Tim, Tim was the grade A fanboy that everybody at least knows of. He’s watched every interview, heard every song, bought every album, poster, t-shirt, and every bit of merch he could get his hands on.

Needless to say after all the praise, Jagged gives to his personal designer, Tim knows exactly who she is.

“It is an honor to meet you Ms. Dupain-Cheng, I am Tim Drake-Wayne. I’m a big fan of your work.”

“You like fashion, Timmy?”

“I’m interested, sure, but Ms. Dupain-Cheng has done work for Jagged Stone. Since. She. Was. Fourteen. Her work has won awards since she was fourteen!” Tim said, disgusted by his brothers’ not knowing who she is.

“Please, it was completely by chance I met Jagged. Plus, I wasn't the only designer he’s ever had.” Marinette tried to take the attention off of her achievements.

“You just the only one who has made Jagged look like something other than an eggplant. I love the guy’s music, but his outfits before you... they looked cheap.”

Dick moved to speak, “It’s true, looking back at his old ensembles, there was a dramatic shift in craftsmanship. I’m Richard Grayson-Wayne, but you can call me Dick.”

Marinette’s face rivaled her old Ladybug costume. “Please, it was nothing. I made a million mistakes when I was designing back then. Anyway, let’s talk about what’s happening today. Your measurements for your suits. I assume Mr. Wayne has more important things to do after this.”

This got the boys to get down to business (to defeat the Huns) and shapes up real quick at the sound of her “serious” voice. The same one she used to use when Chat Noir used to flirt in the middle of an attack.

She when in order of oldest to youngest. Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Tim, were all done. Damian had been waiting patiently for his turn, watching her work.

Marinette had this habit of sticking her tongue out whenever she was hyper-focused, Damian found this endearing. While she was getting his measurements, he was staring hard. This did not go unnoticed by the Batfam.

After she’s finished, it’s kinda late. Alfred invites her for dinner and Marinette graciously agrees. Marinette helps prepare the dessert, Alfred repeatedly told her she didn’t have to, but she insisted.

During dinner, the Batfam began to ask about her personal life, “So, are you seeing anyone?”

“Master Dick, that is not appropriate to ask a young lady!”

Marinette almost chokes at the question, “That’s... um... I just got out of a controlling relationship. I... um... really don’t feel like talking about it.”

Adrien had done a number on her mentally, once he discovered she was Ladybug he wanted her and him to get together immediately. She agreed after some time, but Adrien was always pushy. He always pressured her into doing something that she wasn’t comfortable doing. One day she had enough, she told him that she was done. Let’s just say that didn’t go over well. Marinette shifted in her seat as she recalls that night.

Damian seems to notice this and tells her that she doesn’t have to say anything if she doesn’t want to, Marinette appreciates this and thanks him.

Quickly Marinette switches the topic, “I really like that Gotham has heroes, that protect the city. They make me feel safe like I'm back in Paris.”

This gets all the boys’ attention, Bruce asks her why.

“In Paris, there were heroes to protect them from a magical terrorist, named Hawkmoth. He possessed people who were at their worst and turned them into these things called, Akumas. Ladybug and Chat Noir were the heroes. After he was defeated, Ladybug and Chat Noir retired.”

Damian was baffled by how the league did not know about this, “Why haven’t we heard about this?”

“Mayor Bourgeois kept everything quite to keep tourism flowing, but if you really want to know about it there’s a blog. Be careful though not everything on there is reliable.”

Tim makes a mental note to check it out later.

By the end of the meal and time to go home, all members of the Batfam+Alfred give and get Marinette’s personal contact info.

They gained a friend and a new designer.

Let me know if you want more because then and only then will I do more. This is my first time posting my writing, so please be nice. Thank you for taking the time to read it though! :)

Edit: here’s the ao3 link https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F20572886&t=MGFkNWY5ZDVjOTcwNmIyOTU3YjM0OGQwOTc1YTU5MWZkNDlkNzliYSwwZjg5ZTA1ODIyY2M5MGUyNWYxY2YyMzYyZTY3ZjY2NmNjNzIwMDg5

#maribat #marinette x damian #Damian Wayne #damientte #BatFam #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculous ladybug #DC Universe

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lanajvmeson · 4 years

Text

emerges frm a field of corn slinking in w a faux mink shrug dangling around my elbows n a strand of wheat between my teeth..... farmer eleganza.... hlo! my name’s nai. i am bt a humble ghoul arrived to haunt ur home. 23 n she/her pronouns n i live in manchester. fun fact my friend’s neighbour used to b harry styles PE teacher. i played delilah yrs ago as carlson young (n even cara delevingne at one point what the fk) which feels so weird n ancient to me nw bt i missed her a lot so decided to spruce her bk to life.... ANYWAY delilah’s pinterest is here n i’ll jst leap right into things without further ado

(NICOLA PELTZ, CIS-FEMALE) - Have you seen DELILAH ASTOR? LILAH is in HER JUNIOR year. The POLITICAL SCIENCE MAJOR is 21 years old & is a CAPRICORN. People say SHE is BEGUILING, BLUNT, CUNNING and APATHETIC. Rumors say they’re a member of CALLOWAY. I heard from the gossip blog that SHE WAS IN A REHABILITATION CENTRE IN SWITZERLAND INSTEAD OF DOING CHARITY WORK LIKE HER SOCIAL MEDIA CLAIMED. (NAI. 23. GMT. SHE/HER.)

HISTORY

their family is kind of modelled off the sedgwick family like old money n pretty dysfunctional bt all abt keeping up a seamless facade of perfection... with a pinch of the kennedy’s in there. her dad’s high up in politics n his dad before tht ws in politics n it’s just a long prestigious line of clones in expensive suits as far as delilah’s concerned. her dad i picture as like.... nate archibald’s grandfather in gossip girl.... personality wise.

for as long as she cn remember she’s found this cookie cutter white picket fence life boring. stifling. to delilah it’s like being hemmed in a stuffy room n forbidden frm opening a window. it’s all vry Rich People Problems i wnt lie bt <3 she feels everlastingly bored. All The Time. plus her family hs always been a focal point fr tabloids etc which doesn’t help this feeling of not rly Living but just being the focus of a spectator sport. they’re lowkey a bit of a household name so they get a bunch of scrutiny n......... well. new bullet point alert! cue a powerpoint transition

(self harm & depression tw) frm being young delilah always knew there ws sort of. a white noise inside her where everyone else saw a technicolour movie screen. it rly hit her at like 12 i’d say as she was jst coasting towards adolescence. it ws pretty obvious frm her behaviour i’d say bt her parents only became Aware it ws a problem when she stuck a fork into a socket n short circuited the power in the house. she got shocked unconscious n when she woke up she told the in house dr they’d called (to keep it under wraps frm outsiders) tht she just.... couldn’t feel anything. she’d been reading frankenstein (she’s always liked gothic literature) n thought it’d zap her to life like the monster

her parents got her on medication n figured that wld fix everything. they didn’t like to talk abt things and that was that. it wasn’t to be mentioned again

delilah’s parents r just very.... sterile. family is abt appearances. they’ll be all smiles n flowing conversation when ppl are around bt it feels like being an actress n reading frm a script. being a toy in a dollhouse

she had two siblings: an older sister named clara & a younger brother named elijah. clara ws always like.... the Dream daughter. did everything right. amazing grades. america’s sweetheart. LOVED by the press. did sm charity work. elijah was fine/kind of a slacker compared bt coasted by on athletic prowess (captain of the rowing team). delilah hs very much always been the anomaly in this idyllic line-up. middle child effect! altho having said tht she’s always ran w the popular crowd of her age group bc Rich + Pretty = Status. it’s all quite superficial n delilah’s attitude on the matter can b summed up w this photoset. having said tht there was Some merit in constantly being paraded around as “such a pretty thing” bc a few modelling agencies attempted to scout her bt delilah found that boring. she wants to b called brilliant not beautiful. her mother called this her “not playing to the advantages that god gave her”. with a tight-lipped smile and a “god forbid i use my brain”, delilah only disappointed her further <3

(drugs & ed tw) delilah gt pretty heavy into partying fr the sake of trying to Feel something. intense on the drugs front (coke n prescription pills). rarely eating. she got a silver broach of a swan tht she pins to most of her clothes n u can unscrew the swan’s neck n pull it out to reveal a little powder spoon. still wears this today. clara n delilah were always super close n clara wld cover fr her a bunch. making up lies n jst having her back to their parents if they ever asked where she was / she ws in trouble n needed to keep it under wraps. when delilah hd an article in a tabloid pretty mch like this one clara talked their parents dwn frm sending her to a rehabilitation centre in switzerland. they gt it pretty much scorched frm existence bt delilah kept a clipping bc honestly she thought it was funny hw pale her mother went abt it

(car accident & drunk driving & death tw) at a fancy benefit the astors were all attending among 4857925974 uppity families delilah wound up heading off w some of the rich kids n one thing lead to another n a couple of them gt arrested fr a coke scandal. delilah used her phone call to contact clara n fr once clara hd let loose a little n hd something to drink bt still drove to the station to bail delilah out n try n fix her mess bt.... skipped a red light n crashed. she died upon impact.

(hospitalisation & drugs & addiction tw) this made delilah spiral massively obviously.... she clung on by the skin of her teeth fr a while bt she rly was just getting quite out of control doing an extremely excessive amt of coke to get by at this point so her parents actually did.... end up shipping her off to switzerland for rehabilitation. they didn’t tell anyone this tho n as far as ppl were/are aware she was doing charity work with habitat for humanity in trinidad. her parents literally........... hired ppl to take photos of things there n a social media team posted them to her instagram account jst. the most elaborate lie.... it’s a lot.

delilah jst pretty much went along w whatever they said at the facility bt didn’t absorb any of it too much.... she did get sober there bt it was vry much bc she had no other choice rather than a want to......... she even pretended to “find god” while she ws there n memorised bible lines to recite w a coolly detached smile. in her head she ws probably thinking abt hw her mandated therapist cld gladly eat shit and she’d be happy to watch. it was just like.... everyone there was RLY hideously overpaid bt did they actually Care abt their work or patients? debatable. wasn’t the most healing experience thru delilah’s eyes bt... maybe it’d work better if she’d actually opened her mind to it bt anyway...... <3 cornelius fudge voice: she’s back. the dark lord.....

PERSONALITY:

nw tht her history is out of the way i’ll leap like a flea off a shaggy dog’s back into personality! aesthetically she almost ALWAYS wears white/cream. reminds me of the woman in white frm sharp objects. rarely she’ll dabble in silver or gold or like..... vry pale green bt.... always muted tones. usually white or cream. big white sunhats. white sunglasses. white pussybow blouses w a little white skirt n a pearl barrette in her hair. she even smokes white sobranie cigs tht r imports like it’s a lot she’s truly committed to the aesthetic.... paired w like. classic patent mary janes.... she tends to flutter around the place like a silk moth. likes lace too. hs a very put together image n even demeanour like she’s very lithe n graceful n drifts like a ghost which kind of contrasts w... who she is at her core bt in the astor family it’s all abt appearances <3 the only deviation from this is she sometimes wears dark blue mascara once in a blue moon n if ppl comment on this she’s like. idk what ur talking abt? glides away like a ghost in a haunted mansion n is never seen again.

very perceptive. incredibly observant. yrs of early life media training n being born frm politicians means she’s an excellent liar. she knows ppl n knows what makes them tick bt she’ll only use this when necessary. she isn’t a terrible person bt she knows how to b Very mean n will equip this as a weapon shd a situation call fr it. also more prone to lashing out since her sister......... she hs sometimes played chess games socially fr kicks

dark n biting sense of humour. rather frank abt things. VERY ruthless when scorned bt she isn’t particularly?? emotive abt it??? her bf cheated on her once n when he told her she slapped him rly hard in front of sm ppl he knew n then jst walked away. blocked him on literally everything. removed him frm the face of the earth as far as she ws concerned. had him blacklisted frm every event n told ppl they’d be cut too if they continued to associate w him. goodbye sir <3 u are the weakest link <3 needless to say he regretted it <3

very loyal to u until she isn’t. finds it very easy to cut ties if need be. once her trust is broken it is gooooone baby goone.... the trust is Gone. selective in who she cares abt

vry cavalier abt sex. she doesn’t sleep around hugely i dnt think??? bt when she does it isn’t often tht emotionally invested she’ll jst out of the blue very nonchalantly blow out a wisp of smoke n b like. so u want to fuck me then? cool. proceeds to get up as if she’s walking to leave n then looks bk n is like what do ur legs not work? follow me. n leads them somewhere

nothing rly.... moves her particularly. she isn’t very animated. it’s like she jst finds the entire world thoroughly unimpressive. it’s difficult to stimulate excitement from her. it’s like that hugh laurie quote where he realised he had depression bc “boredom is not an appropriate response to exploding cars”.

has a pet swan bk at home she’s named lilith inspired by satan’s offspring. lilith bites ppl if they get close n is honestly an abomination of a bird. delilah finds her funny n throws her bits of croissants sometimes bt even she isn’t immune to her pecks. in some ways they’re similar...... hv a graceful surface appearance / aesthetic bt a darker attitude beneath the surface

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

exes: the ex bf tht cheated on her n she got blacklisted from 94872347 social events cld be a fun thing to explore..... delilah wld be EXTREMELY cold towards him n honestly want him dead. wouldn’t show any shred of caring abt him at all she’s very gd at stoning her emotions n keeping them inside. hasn’t cried since her sister died as an example of how..... withdrawn she is from confessing her innermost thoughts n desires. maybe an ex bf before tht that she rly didn’t take seriously at all..... typically she just isn’t interested/invested in romance she’s vry apathetic abt it all

party friends: those tht run in similar rich kid circles tht she would have smuggled off with at fancy events so they could let loose.......... ppl tht r completely her opposite who she finds interesting bc they represent everything she always wanted outside the oppression of her strict regiment family....... mutual bad influences tht are heavy into drugs n always enable each other...... u name it!

hook-ups: she doesn’t have a HUGE amt of these bt.... maybe a select handful.... some she wld have hooked up w once n never again n just been like >_> if they implied they shd as if it was preposterous n she was thoroughly over it.... some maybe she’d find interesting enough to extend beyond tht...... none she’d invest in if she cld help it altho? maybe someone as an exception to tht rule cld be fun

friends of her sister: (death tw) clara was universally well liked for being rly sweet n well intentioned n she attended yates only two yrs delilah’s senior so she might have some connections here still somehow??? cld be angsty to work with

i won’t lie i’m rly hungry as i write up these wcs so my brain’s going blank n i’m gna have to sprint to get some toast bt <3 roommates, enemies, competitive friendships, resentments, angst, chaos, drama, strife, u name it n i am dwn!!!! hits post n takes off galloping dwnstairs

#yatesintro #drugs tw #ed tw #depression tw #death tw #grief tw #car accident tw #drunk driving tw #addiction tw #cowabunga chim chimmeny cheroo it's a tw extravaganza <3 #hmu fr plots go crazy go stupid

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