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autismvampyre · 3 years

Text

Little Brother

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Summary: Peter Maximoff wakes up at the battle of Sokovia in another universe. Thankfully, he still has a family here.

Pairing: just some familial Maximoff fun

Warnings: guns, literal war, probably swearing idk i didnt check but i swear a lot, bad writing and thats it i think

A/N: I take no credit for this idea it was purely inspired by this post from @you-said-yes and they gave me permission to write it. I had a blast with this, I'm a sucker for the multiverse triplets. Oh and in this version I'm going with the story that Peter's Wanda is dead, cause thats just how i think of the story since shes never mentioned after DOFP.

Peter's POV

The first thing he remembered was running. He ran faster than he ever had before and he kept running for what felt like eternity until he woke up. In other circumstances, Peter would've brushed it off as just a bad dream, but that proved difficult considering he was laying on the ground covered in rubble. His head was pounding and he felt something warm and sticky near his eyebrow, pulsating from his forehead.

He tried to sit up and groaned, beginning to take in his surroundings. There were beaten up buildings lining the street in front of him, bricks laying scattered all around the ground. Peter had seen plenty of destruction like this; it came with the job of being in the X-Men. But this place was different. If not for the thin air and freezing cold, then for the fact that there were reminants of robots everywhere, some seemingly ripped in half. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping it was just another dream.

"Wake up, Peter," he mumbled to himself

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of guns and screaming, alerting the young speedster. Without a second thought he got himself together and took off, trying to find the fight. He followed the sound of machine guns and picked up the pace when he felt the ground beneath him shake. It didn't take long until at the edge of the foreign city. He could barely believe his eyeswhrn he saw the fight. There was nothing weird about the fight per se, except for the fact that the city was flying.

Before the silver haired boy got the chance to question his sanity once again, a machine gun went off. He didn't fear the machines -- he could easily outrun them-- but there was a man holding a kid in the line of fire. They both looked utterly terrified and the man turned his back to the bullets, shielding the child with his body.

Peter went into super speed, and everything around him moved so slow, it looked like a still frame. The bullets were frozen in place and everything was deadly quiet, the sound being too slow to reach him. With the arrogance of a boy who'd outrun explosions, Peter casually walked up to the machine gun and poked the bullets out of the way, one by one. But not even halfway through his little charade, something moved in his peripheral. He tured to see a man, running to block the bullets with his body. His hair was so blonde it could be considered white, and his dark roots and facial hair revealed it was simply a dye job.

At the speed the silver haired speedster was going, everything should be practically still to him; yet this man was running. His steps were agonisingly slow, but still. Peter gawked as he realised what was happening. Another speedster. He had never met someone who shared his ability of super speed, and the excitement that bubbled in his veins was indescribable. Finally, there would be someone who understood him.

Peter turned to the bullets once again and removed them with ease. He didn't care to put on a show anymore, too excited to meet his equal.

Pietro's POV

He ran faster than he ever had before, faster than he ever could've imagined he could.

But he knew it wasn't fast enough.

Pietro Maximoff could outrun a lot of things, but a machine gun was not one of them. All he could hope was that his body would save Clint and the child in his arms. He was prepared to die, he had accepted it. At least he would die doing the right thing, though his heart broke at the thought of leaving Wanda.

His body tensed in anticipation for the bullets, but nothing came. The bullets were gone, and in their place was a young boy with goggles and silver hair. Pietro's confusion must've been painfully obvious cause the boy chuckled.

"You know, for a speedster, you sure are slow," he said, a grin spreading across his face. Pietro's confusion only grew at this statement.

"W-what?" His eyebrows furrowed at the silver haired fellow. "What happened- the bullets?"

"Oh the bullets? Yeah, I moved them. And I ripped apart the gun too while I was at it. Couldn't let you get filled with bullet holes," the boy said nonchalantly, as if it was the most normal thing on earth. He stretched his hand out to the older male. Pietro took it, at a loss for words.

"I'm Peter," the boy introduced. "Peter Maximoff." At those words, Pietro froze.

Maximoff.

"Pietro Maximoff," was all he could get out. Peters eyebrows furrowed at the name.

"How do you know my real name? No one calls me Pietro." Before he could explain however, Clint spoke up.

"Hey, you two. We gotta get to the helicarrier, Pietro you go get Wanda." At that, he took the child and brought him to the rest of them civilians. The two speedster were left staring at each other. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Pietro spoke up.

"Well, I have to go get my sister. You can go with Barton over there, then we can talk later, okay?" Peter only nodded, too deep in his own thoughts. That was all the confirmation he needed, so Pietro took off to get Wanda.

Wanda's POV

"Who is he?" She questioned her twin. A boy with silver hair had appeared mid battle and saved Pietro's life by stopped bullets. That wasn't the strangest thing about him however.

"I don't know," Pietro shrugged. "He says he's Peter Maximoff." Wanda gawked at him.

"Maximoff?" She asked in disbelief and her brother nodded. Her eyes turned to the mysterious Maximoff stood in a corner twiddling his thumbs so fast they looked like blur.

Wanda walked over to him and tapped his shoulder lightly, taking him out of his thoughts. He looked up with wide brown eyes. I know him from somewhere, she thought.

"Hi, I'm Wanda. You saved my brother today. I owe you everything, I don't know what I'd do if.." She didn't have to finish her sentence, he simply nodded.

"I'm happy to help, I lost my sister. I don't want anyone to go through that shit." His voice was low and broke slightly at the mention of his sister. Wanda's heart ached for him, and she wrapped her arms around the boy, surprising them both. He returned the hug as she mumbled how sorry she was for his loss.

Once they both let go, the boy started rubbing his neck anxiously. "I've been meaning to ask this but... where are we?" She eyed him to see if he was serious.

"We're at a safe place, outside Sokovia?"

"Sokovia?"

"Yes, Sokovia. You know, the city the flying city?" Wanda explained but the silver haired boy simply stared in utter confusion.

"I-I've never heard of Sokovia. Also, why was the city flying? How did I get here and who are you guys?" Peter's voice rose in panic, and he bit his lip as he awaited a response.

"I don't know how do answer you, but I'm Wanda Maximoff, the man you saved is my twin brother Pietro Maximoff. We're with the Avengers, who were fighting the evil robot Ultron who tried to wipe out humanity."

The boys eyes filled with tears at the mention of her name. And she realised from where she knew him.

Peter's POV

"Wanda?" He looked at the woman in front of him. She resembled his own twin, his Wanda, but she looked different. Something was off, but he couldn't quite place it. His wanda didn't have an accent, her hair was lighter; she was just different. Despite that, he pulled her into a tight embrace. Even if she wasn't the Wanda he knew, she was the closest to family he had right now.

"Wanda, is this real?" He asked, realizing the absurdity of the situation.

"Yes, it is. It's real, Peter." He squeezed her, not wanting to let go. Not when he finally got his sister back. Except it wasn't his sister, he reminded himself.

"I don't know whether to be sad or happy," he said, finally letting go. "Cause I'm finally seeing my sister again, but at the same time you not my sister. You're not my Wanda." He put his hands on his face. Wake up, Peter. To his surprise she didn't find him completely insane.

"You're not like my Pietro either, you're younger and..."-she paused, trying to find the words-"... just different. I can't explain it." He nodded in agreement. Something was off.

A blur of silver entered his vision and Pietro was beside them.

"What's going on?" He questioned upon seeing his siblings tear stained daces. Wanda smiled at him before looking to Peter again.

"I think we just got a new little brother."

the ending was a lil rushed sorry, hope it was still decent jdhdgdg

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shtern-and-art · 3 years

Note

"Skeppy will probably cry" "Bad will probably cry". Bish, screw, that I am crying!!!

This whole thing was bloody gorgeous and I wasn't expecting that ending. I had no clue what ending to expect but that was definitely better than any I could have hoped for. Forest spirit to soulmate your honour!

I was terrified that you were gonna leave it at the point where he loses the spirit and becomes mortal again. If you had I would be actively sobbing!!!! And oh my god, the art!!! I still can't get over how wonderful your style is.

Imma ask fun things because if I don't I'll sit in a puddle of emotion all night:

What's the first tech thing Bad will buy and how annoying will he be about it? Poor Skeppy trying to answer 101 questions about something he doesn't really use XD.

Is no one concerned that the odd couple from a town they never name has a pet wolf??

Do they immediately go over to a different town or do they wander for a while. Find hidden creeks and befriend bears?

Does Bad still have a connection to nature and animals, like are creatures naturally more trusting of him?

Do they ever visit the og town again?

Does Skeppy still cause absolute chaos in other towns or has he learnt his lesson and only causes minor trouble now?

Does Bad ever try and study again? If he did what would he study and would Skeppy try to study as well?

Does Skeppy steal? I dunno, he just give off the vibe of a naughty lil trickster who'll pocket something if the owner refuses to sell it him.

Immediately after leaving the forest what the first 'argument' they have (not including the car one)?

Would they ever ride horse? If yes, how terrified would Skeppy be?

Skeppy falls outta tree. I don't know why but my mind keeps telling me that this man has great balance until he climbs trees. They are his mortal enemy and Bad finds this both hilarious and terrifying because he is going to hurt himself.

I had waaaaay more questions than I intended to have. My bad '^_^ but this story was way too much fun to read and you are entirely to blame for making it so engaging!

Make sure to take care of yourself and do stretches after and during drawing. You don't wanna hurt yourself <3

AaaaI’m so glad you liked it! :D And, dang, man, I cried while writing that part too :D

And I promised a nice ending for the main story, I did, and this one also makes the most sense narratively! For the story I wanted to tell, at least. Bad can’t really become human again, he’s changed to much. He can only move on, and do something with what he is, and has. And he did! :D That’s really nice and inspiring, this story will always have a place in my heart, heheh <3

Being a guardian spirit connected to a person and all, Bad may be not as strong as before, but he can’t die unless Skeppy dies first. And Skeppy can do that, but he’s pretty sturdy, and his lifespan operates on a whole other scale than human ones. And Bad knowing Skeppy’s real name balances it all out, makes them equal in the power and influence they have over each other.

So hellyeah, soulmates for the win :DDD

I’ll answer all questions under the cut, and this close up from one of the pages!

1) What's the first tech thing Bad will buy and how annoying will he be about it?

Probably a pager! Because it’s a more feasible thing to get than a wholeass computer Bad actually wanted :D An it means Skeppy will have to get one too, and that Bad will be having the time of his life texting him and everyone he can get a number from, even if they’re still in the room with him.

Poor Skeppy indeed, he can learn to appreciate the pagers, and later phones, too, and computers, but he really has 0 idea on how it all works and why Bad is so fascinated by it all.

2) Rat and regular people

Oh, she can shapeshift, just like Bad! If they’re out with people around, she takes form of a puppy, and Bad can pass her off as a weird mix breed rescue doggo.

3) Do they immediately go over to a different town or do they wander for a while?

Oh, since they have no end destination in mind, they can ride around for a bit, go visit some cool places and roadside attractions. Sadly, Skeppy is probably not spiritually or morally ready to full on befriend wild bears yet, and they do need money for gas and snacks. So, at some point they will have to stop somewhere and find work – at least for a bit, to save up. Life’s gonna be a bit complicated with all that, until Skeppy figures out his treasure-finding abilities :DD

4) Bad and nature and animals

He is definitely still in tune with all wildlife! Even more – Bad could become a proper guardian spirit for Skeppy in part because, in a way, Skeppy himself is part of the nature.

So yeah, Bad can understand animals (and plants) and communicate with them; they’re just more free to not take his shit, and Bad’s emotions do not “possess” them unless he makes an effort to do so.

He doesn’t like doing it, tho.

5) Do they ever visit the og town again?

Hm, I think they will completely forget about it for a while, until, like, 30+ years later they will be going somewhere, and find themselves around those parts. And they try to not appear too often in the areas they’ve spent a lot of time in already (they can be pretty recognizable, and also barely show signs of aging). But it’s been a long time, and the town’s really different now… So they make a stop, and spend a day there. They walk the unfamiliar streets between the new buildings, check out the popular hiking trail, the advertisements for hot springs and winter activities. The old cinema is still there, and is hosting an all-night marathon of classic horror movies of the last century.

Bad and Skeppy leave the town after sunset – the day was nice, but they have nothing more to do there. They ride through the forest on a well paved road, with radio playing something barely above the whisper. And in the dark of hot summer night, Bad can see the white stag running between the trees alongside their car. Shadows dance over the shimmering light of it’s fur.

Somewhere after the towns border, the stag disappears back in the forest. But the air in the car stays light and fresh, saving the smell of old pines and dry leaves all though the night.

6) Skeppy and chaos

Well, after the whole mess in the main story, Skeppy definitely learned some lessons, especially about not being a dick :D

But the thing is – he can’t really help the fact that things tend to stir up around him a lot. He naturally brings in chaos into everything, because he is, in part, a personification, or an outlet for it in the world. And so, to feel, well and good, and himself Skeppy gotta do stuff that disrupts balance, and creates some mayhem. And in gave him a lot of trouble in early life, but in the course of the main story he learned that he can chose were he lets that chaos to take hold, learned what can come of that chaos, apart from utter misery.

Like, where it can help dismantle something destructive, and where – bring in the more positive change, that was already brewing, possible, but is stagnant for some reason.

Soooo, I can’t say Skeppy causes only minor chaos in his life, but he sure learns even more about not being a dick :DDDD

7) The studying

I think Bad will want to get a higher education at some point, because he wanted to, and because it’s already new millennia and all that. Bet he’ll go for something very technical and/or literature. Maybe he’ll start by piking up some classes in small time colleges, when they stop in one place for a while, and later get into an online program, because why not.

Skeppy is not a college guy at all. He’ll listen to Bad talk about it, read textbooks if he wants to, can research stuff, buuut going to classes and doing homework is definitely not his thing.

8) Stealing

Well, you’re right, Skeppy can and will steal stuff out of spite! And will be scolded by Bad for it, and will not feel (that) sorry about it. But real stealer between them will be Bad himself :D

It’s just… he has the corvid tendencies, and a hoard (a box) of sentimental mementos from different people and events, and the thrill of stealing something small and harmless is very exciting. Bad is very proud of his little collection. Skeppy finds it very adorable, a bit hypocritical, and kinda creepy. Like, that pretty box he gifted Bad at some point is now full of stuff like:

- pressed flower from the clearing they had a picnic at on their anniversary

- the button the waitress lost that one day the storm caused a black out in the whole town

- some small animal bones

- couple pretty rocks Bad stole from Skeppy’s pockets

- penny that was once glued to the ground

- a handful of teeth people (and not people) lost in fights with Bad

- pen from some fancy hotel

- rainbow dash keychain that belonged to a child

- the list goes on

9) Argument

Oh, that same day they’ll fight over whether they should stay at the really crappy and suspicious looking motel, or go sleep in a perfectly fine forest near the road. Ironically, Bad wanted to try out the motel (because, yay, first time spending the night back in civilization), and Skeppy was the one insisting on sleeping in nature (because the motel looks like it could give you 10 diseases if you even stand near it, and sleeping in the forest is kind of nice, and means they can cuddle).

10) Horses

The guys will probably ride them at some point. Well, Bad will ride, and Skeppy will sit on his horse and hope it knows what to do and where to go, because trying to make this giant thing do something seems dangerous. If they’ll have to actually go somewhere fast, Skeppy will not survive that day, his butt (and legs) will be dead for days to come.

And riding with Bad on one horse may sound romantic and nice, but all romance dies when the gallop starts.

11) Skeppy and climbing

Skeppy is more down to earth kind of guy, more of a “rocks and caves” kind of creature, real-life lizard person or something. Up on the trees and in the air – not really his element, yeah. But it doesn’t mean that Skeppy will accept this fact easy. The embarrassment of never managing to safely make it down a tree is too strong, he just has to do it all over again, and again. And again. Because, clearly, he was distracted this time. And the time before that Bad was teasing him, and it “disrupted his flow”. And, really, maybe these trees here just do not like Skeppy much, and make him slip a lot. Yeah.

So, more often than not, if Skeppy climbs a tree, he will not stop climbing it until he falls, or the tree ends. Bad had to take him off high branches couple times, forcefully, because, of course, Skeppy was sitting there for 2 hours just to properly enjoy the sunset. He can climb down at any point, he just Choses not to. The view is amazing. The bark is literally part of his skin now, not because he holds on tight, no, he’s just Than Much one with the nature )<

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Don’t apologize for the questions! It’s always so fun to answer them, and it makes me think more about stuff I may have skipped, or didn’t think about before. It’s really nice :3c

Again, thank you for the ask, and for being here for this story! <3

(And I’ll try setting timers for rest breaks while I draw, mb that will help)

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In The Dark - masterpost

#mcyt #mcyt fanart #badboyhalo #skeppy #skephalo #In The Dark #it's so hot here #my laptop's keyboard is like a stove #=c=#shtern talks

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wizkiddx · 3 years

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a friendly face

a lil one inspired from seeing the recent interviews abt cherry - yes im a couple days late but am very slow. This is basically stolen and adapted from another of my stories so I don't think there's any bits left over by my dyslexic proof reading isnt that great so apologies!!! very speech heavy so sorry am trying to balance my writing more

Summary: Tom is having a hard time filming Cherry and dealing with the emotional baggage of it, so Harry recruits someone to make everything that little bit better.

tomhollandxreader

fluff and a little angst I guess?

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Harry, Tom and their driver Sian where all sitting in the car having left the set 20 minutes ago, heading back to their accommodation. Or more precisely, Harry and Sian sat in the two front seats- Harry only in the front as to allow Tom to lie down across the three back seats. He was asleep, or at least looked asleep, but Harry knowing his brother so well knew he was just wishing he was. The day had been torturous for Tom, they’d been filming a hospital sequence in which his character was heart broken. The sequence had involved him being thrown onto the floor multiple times, by a heavy handed stunt double who was not nearly as precise as those he’d worked with at ‘marvel’. Furthermore, there was also multiple scenes of him having to properly cry on camera, which although it sounds tame, is one of the hardest things you can ever ask an actor to do. At least, someone who commits half as much as Tom. For him to show that emotion, he had to go back to a place in his life where he didn’t really ever want to venture again. But even then, this character was such a fuck up, he had to do deeper. He felt completely drained, emotionless and cold. But he couldn’t sleep, not for the guilt he felt for being short with everyone on set- he had never been like that before, he just felt like no one was respecting or understanding what he was going through. So instead he just lay on his side, facing the backs of the leather seats, arms folded in stubbornness- even if he had no idea why.

“Tom?…Tom, I know you’re awake… Look, we need to make a quick stop. You gotta come out.” Harry was actually slightly nervous his brother would just point blank refuse, even if he needed this so bad.

“I just need to get back to the apartment. Please Harry. Can’t we do it tommorrow?” The desperation dripping off Tom’s voice actually pained Harry to listen to. He knew Tom was having a crisis about how he treated everyone today, so chose to ignore his please in favour of some assurance.

“You know everyone understands… They just kept asking me if you were alright?” Harry could see the guilt radiating off Tom. It hurt him to see his big brother like this.

“Please… I just need to get back” His small voice barely made it to the front of the car, but Harry heard it all.

“It will take 2 minutes tops, I had a delivery but I need a hand carrying it, come on” Harry spoke as Sian turned on the indicator to pulled up next to the sidewalkpavement; the car slowing to a gentle halt. Tom didn’t reply, instead huffing as he used the head rest of the middle seat to pull himself up. Already out the car, Harry opened the door for him waiting patiently, because Harry knew he would be a hundred times better off in just a few moments.

“What the hell have you even ordered that’s so big?” Tom sighed while ducking through the door into the cold Cleveland air, keeping his eyes on the sidewalk as Harry motioned for him to follow his feet.

“Oh um don’t know, a good friend sent it actually” Harry tried to hide the grin that was spread over his face from showing in his voice, as he saw a very familiar head of hair running toward them.

“What friend?” Tom looked up sassily toward Harry, shortly questioning who would send Harry a parcel from England that was too big to be delivered or carried by himself. Only then, nearly 5 metres away from Sian in the car, did Tom look up to see where they were. It wasn’t the nearest post office or delivery warehouse - they were at the airport. “Harry what’s going on?” Tom questioned with a low and warning voice, skipping a step or two in order to catch up with his younger brother.

“We’re collecting her” Harry smiled as he nodded forward. Following his gaze with eyes wide open, Tom turned forward just in time to see Y/h/c flying over his face as he was engulfed by someones arms. Immediately sensing exactly who this was, Tom did not hesitate to wrap his arms around your waist and push his head into your neck. Smelling the familiar perfume, Tom couldn’t help but scoff, allowing a the jerky breath to leave his lungs as you arched away from the hug, cupping Tom’s face with both her hands.

“I’ve been reliably informed you could use a friendly face” you smiled, noticing his raw emotions threatening to overtake him, so swiftly pressing just pressing your lips onto his. Seemingly frightened to move, Tom barely reacted to the kiss, so you pushed and deepened into it a little more- till you felt him relaxing against you. With that, you arched away again and smiled massaging his stubbly hair behind his left ear.

“How are you here?” He croaked staring deeply at her, switching between her left and right eye as if that somehow would confirm that this was real, not some cruel dream he was having.

“Someone somewhere knew you were in need and bought me a plane ticket over… I’m coming home with you on monday” You grinned while watching Tom’s eyes light up, he leaned in again to your lips instead of replying.

“Er-cuh-huh” Harry loudly cleared his throat, causing the two to pull away from each other. “Sorry to interrupt, but Sian isn’t really allowed to stop there long sooo” They both nodded, before Tom lunged at his brother, holding him close and whispering thanks too. It was clear this was at least partly Harry’s doing, and he could never thank his brother enough.

“Umm.. as much as I’m enjoying this brotherly love we really do have to get back in the car” Harry awkwardly spoke as he almost pushed Tom off him.

“Awww my favourite little brother being all mature” You giggled, taking your turn to hug Harry, admittedly a little shorter than Tom’s, but still with lots of gratitude.

“Please get stop loving me and get back into the car!” Harry yelled as he stormed off to Sian, leaving both you and Tom in fits of laughter. Grasping each others hand simultaneously the laughter continued as you followed Harry down the street to the car.

Seeing you standing there; feeling your arms wrapped round his neck ; hearing your oh so sweet voice had Tom feeling…. Feeling lighter. It was as though your mere presence gave him the strength to carry all the things that were previously weighing him down like a truck. What was extraordinary though, was how it wasn’t just psychological. He literally felt his joints feel looser, he felt his body flood with warmth and he felt his heart calming down. When you’d first been getting close to each you’d had rather the opposite effect. Which was surprising because that was at the point Tom had never felt more confident - he had just returned form a avengers press tour, where naturally everyone had just loved him and played up to his every whim. He had legions of girls, some of them drop dead gorgeous where falling at his feet. And yet, when he met you it was as though he was transported back into his incredibly awkward teenage years. It was infuriating, he knew he could act cool and unbothered and smooth however as soon as you stood informant of his it was like his mind melted, filling it with utter gibberish and garble. In fact, he was plainly floored by you - how kind and pure hearted you were, how respectful and how you found hhis jilted flirting adorable and not to forget how drop dead gorgeous you are.

It had taken a while and a hell of a lot of opening up, but over time he found the opposite happening. Your presence became something else entirely, not one that would put him on his toes and have his heart racing - more of a comfort. He slept better when you were beside him, his nerves never got the better of him if you were there to cheer him on. He could relax completely without any fear of judgement, any worry at all with you. What you had done is change the definition of something so fudemental and a given in life. You’d changed home from a place to something much more intangible. A person; a feeling; a connection. You were his home.

“Sian are we close?” You asked, turning your attention away from the two brothers annecdotes from filming, realising Sian must’ve been driving for about 30 minutes.

“Yep just the next right I think” Sian replied gently while turning the wheel as the indicator clicked.

“Where are we going?” Tom asked, looking first at you then pleadingly at Harry- knowing he had more of a chance with his brother.

“Well” You started and he whipped his head back round “I know it’s late and you’ve been working all day, but you have alater 10 o’clock call time tomorrow instead of 6, so this is the best night to do something. We found a driving range-with heaters” which was a very important factor since Cleveland was bloody freezing “- that we thought you’d like to play a game or two?” The massive smile in response meant you’d hit the nail on the head.

“And soz but I’m crashing the game otherwise- and no offence, but you would win waayyyy toooo easy Tom” Harry butted in and sniggered as he interrupted the lovey-dovey stares. You gasped at that in mock offence, holding your hand over your chest.

“Oi you, Paddy has been teaching on the Holland boys days out you both missed- I’ll have you know I now am aware that you have to get the ball into the hole, not a goal as previously thought.”

The boys both groaned in unison and Y/n wiggled her eyebrow grinning, elbowing Tom slightly in the side. “Things might have changed since you left you know?”

Yet another thing Tom loved so completely about you, was how effortlessly you had fitted into his family. Honestly, none of the Hollands could imagine life without you anymore - especially Nikki, who had quite literally attempted adopting you so she officially wasnt the only female in the immediate family. Sam used you as an expert taster for all his marvellous culinary creations (even if your judgement was always the same, it was very good); Dom often ended up picking your brains about your work, he found you ‘actual proper’ job as a doctor simply amazing , where all his family had never been especially acadmeically gifted; and Paddy just plain saw you as his older sister. So it was hardly surprising at all that when two of their actual kids flew across the world , you’d been the obvious placeholder. Yes, golf was most definitely your forte - but you were enthusiastic, with a positive (if flightily misguided) give it a go attitude.

The try-try-and-try-again attitude that never really worked … until Paddy taught you how to hit a clean drive.

“I am not joking, I am asking the lady at the desk there’s no way!”

“Tom you are the worst looser I have ever met! I didn’t cheat, I’ve just taken up a new hobby”

“There is no way Tom… no way she can get that good” Harry huffed as he ran straight past you to catch up with Tom, making sure that you did see the harsh glare he shot him. The outrage that Y/n had beaten them both at the driving range was way worse than anything you could’ve predicted- now you sort of were wishing you’d let them win. Oh wait…. Of course you weren’t - this was priceless. Especially their faces when you’d launched your first ball super accurately inn the centre of the second furthest away target. They had reacted as if you had just stripped butt naked, you thought; standing their jaws hanging with a look of almost fear in their eyes.

“You could see the balls land with your own eyes! Practice makes perfect!”

“Thats not fair though! It took you like 8 weeks to be like that?”

“I mean you were obviously just taught by the wrong Holland, Paddy’s a pretty good teacher!” You smiled as your trio turned the corner and walked through reception, seeing Harry desperate to ask the receptionist but Tom just looking over his shoulder to give a hurt look to at you.

“I’m going to ban you from being closer to my brothers than me”

“I can’t help if he’s cuter then you alright?” You smirked and raised an eyebrow, as Tom stopped in his tracks and turned to face you.

“That’s it… your gonna get it” he spoke in a low voice, with a mischievous look in his eye, abruptly he launched himself at you - barely having time to swerve away from him and start a sprint towards the exit, giggling as you took a glance back to see Tom chasing you out, Harry quickly in tow too.

“Your not allowed to beat me at golf!” In a jokey voice, you heard Tom yell, just as you reached the sleek black 4x4 and hurdling yourself into it.

“I’m in the car it’s a no fight zone!” You cowered in the corner,back pressed up against the opposite door and arms crossed to make an ‘x’ sign in front of her body.

“That is not how it works” Tom and Harry grinned from the open door. As fast as lightning they both vaulted in and started tickling you, making you screech curses at the two of them.

“Alright alright kids, no fighting while I’m driving thats an order.” Sian calmly spoke, trying to hide the laughter from her voice, as the two men retreated and helped to pull you up from the position half on the floor that your squirming had gotten you to.

“Get off my leg Tom… arghhh… thanks Sian, I’m sorry they’re so moody, I just whipped their asses at golf”

“You’re here to make me feel better right? Not doing a good job so far” Tom’s snide remark meant you scrunched up your nose while plugging her seatbelt in, making sure to jab Tom’s side hard as you did so.

“How did I end up sandwiched in between you two twats then?” You grinned from the middle seat as Harry just rolled his eyes looking out the window, and Tom gave you a loving smile- not able to hide his relief of your presence.

“Think it’s about a 40 minute drive you gotta enjoy” Sian smiled looking at you via the rear view mirror, to which Tom couldn’t quite stifle the yawn that escaped.

After all he had done much more than the typical 9-5 hours work, and the golfing was an unexpected addition to the already long day. His excitement and just pure joy at having you here had made him forget about It all for a couple of hours - but now his exhaustion was catching up with him with a vengeance. Instinctively you wrapped you arm round Tom and in doing so pulled him into your side.

“Get some rest huh?” You whispered into his forehead, and all Tom could do was reply with a weary nod, letting his eyes slip close to the constant beat of Ally’s heart. You immediately sensed Tom was properly out of it, and contented yourself looking out his window for a few minutes, before you felt something heavy briefly whack your other shoulder. Jumping a little at the contact, you looked round to see Harry’s head bobbing side to side in a light slumber. In the midst of worry for Tom, you hadn’t realised the kid had been doing the same long hours as him. Plus dealing with Tom and being Tom’s support, which surely took it out of him. Harry had always been ‘the most important brother’ in your eyes. Just because Tom trusts him so implicitly and completely, they had an understanding only real brothers could get to but also extended far beyond blood. When you’d first been introduced Harry had been colder to you. It wasn’t personal though, he just wanted to be sure on you and your intentions with Tom because as he well knew often when people saw Tom they didn’t just see an opportunity for love. It was an opportunity for a lifestyle, for fame, for relevance. Harry took a while before he trusted you but now you were miles and miles beyond that point. So now, being at a stage with Harry where he was phoning you to come and fly out to save Tom (and him too). It was not to be taken lightly. Therefore, you gently pressed your hand to Harrys face and pushed him to lean against her other shoulder too- hoping to cure the dark circles under his eyes a little bit too.

You were quite content for the rest of the journey, feeling warmth radiate through your body as the two men breathed deeply and calmly either side of you. You sort of didn’t want the car journeyer to end - but sure enough it wasn’t long till Sian was pulling into the hotel entrance.

“Get you a girl that can do both, beat yo ass at golf and look after your family” Sian whispered as she handed the phone back to you, after having taken some of your favourite ever photos, the 2 boys asleep on your shoulders while you pulled a variety of different faces. Smiling back at Sian, you then sighed-knowing she had to wake the two up, given their exhaustion you didn’t really want to either.

“Boys…boys… hey let’s get you both into bed yeh?” You spoke softly, gently raising your shoulders in order to disturb them both. Harry’s head immediately shot up, his eyes puffy and half open, but a sheepish look on his face as he realised how he was sleeping. Just responding with a smile that said it was all okay, before you turned her attention to Tom- forever stubborn to wake up, at least nothing had changed there.

“Come on Tom, can’t have you sleeping in the car all night” You pushed again, this time lifting Tom’s head, earning a very deep groan as his eyes slid open and he pushed against the movement. It was at this point Harry slammed the car door shut, making Tom jump out of his skin, you loosing the hope of any serene wakeup call. Rubbing Toms arm, relaxing the tension now present in his body you encouraged him once again. “Come on lets get inside mister”

His hotel room was exactly what you’d expect for an a-lister and lead actor in a million pound film. Large, modern, squeaky clean and posh. It was almost too big to be filled by one person though, Tom had always found it a bit cold and just not cosy - why he opted to spend the majority of his down time either fast alseep or in somebody else’s company. Both of those also stopped him getting too much in his head - or more accurately in his characters head. Cherry was a weird character and from interviewing all the veterans and lengthy discussion of his past, Tom almost felt as if he had in some small way experienced what Cherry had. Felt what Cherry did. Thought like Cherry did.

And that was a sure fire way to fuck yourself up.

Now, with you here in his room haphazardly digging through your case, if felt warmer. The cold but brilliant white lights seemed to have softened to a gently warm glow that bounced off your skin and made your figure look almost angelic to Tom. You were his home.

“What are you waiting for?” You mused while turning away from your (now) inside out suitcase, proudly carrying her pyjamas which you had found hidden at the bottom the whole time- not the most practical packing in the world. All the while Tom sat on his bed, back leaning against the headboard and arm bent behind his head too.

“Just thinking that I need to go through all the scenes for tomorrow” A monotonous tone laced his voice, for he knew he couldn’t spend the night the way he really wanted to, safely wrapped up with you.

“Oh… well let’s go through it together then hey? We will be done in no time; but if you want we can go over them again tomorrow morning.” It was a practical suggestion, a helpful action you could implement - even if you had a feeling Tom wouldn’t just agree. Since his lines clearly weren’t the only thing on his mind this evening.

“Yeh but everyone on set is already sick of me after today… I can’t be being shit as well as horrid” his voice was small as the memory of how he snapped at some of the extras had him cringing inwardly at himself. He shouldn’t have been that rude, shouldn’t have blurted it out, should of offered a solution rather than just critiquing.

“Hey would you kindly shut it? No one is sick of you, everyone is just ready for christmas and missing their families. Now get changed” Your soft tone turning into an imperative order, as you threw his pyjama bottoms at the him, smashing into his face before falling into his lap.

“Oi” he shouted, but followed instructions and stood up reaching round to pull his hoodie off. Stood shirtless, his side was exposed to the now changed you, the sight making you gasp and clamber over the bed to gently touch Tom’s back. You followed the outline of an impressive patch of bruising, stretching from the bottom edge of his shoulder blade all the way to his hip.

“Tom, what the hell happened?” Whispering in fear, Tom turned round to face you, seeing your eyes watering up as you kept glancing at his back. He was littered in a variety of purple, yellow and slightly green marks on the whole of his left flank. It looked like a minor crush injury, not something a pampered actor gets after a day of filming infront of tens of people including an onset medic and health and safety risk assessor.

“What?” Tom asked before turning to the mirror and looking back over his shoulder to see the bruises for himself. He hadn’t expected the ache to look that bad. “oh - I - er… Today the scene, I get smashed to the floor by someone and I kept doing it wrong so we had to do it lots I guess.” He looked away and down at your feet, not being able to meet his girlfriends eyes suddenly. You just nodded, trying to blink back the tears- he had truly been broken by this role both physically and now mentally- he hadn’t even put a stop to the constant and clearly severe pain.

“Put your stuff on” your voice was muted, as you waited for Tom to get prepared. He turned around again and then replaced his trousers and quickly pulled a top on to hide the marks, suddenly embarrassed. In the silence the sound of his clothes dropping to the floor, then of him sitting on the bed again- throwing his legs over so now he mirrored your position - the sounds were pretty defeaning.

“I love you so much….” Barely whispering, you suddenly ripped the duvet out from under you both holding it over you as you swung a leg over Tom so you straddled him, slightly leaning over him and letting the blanket rest on top of your back.In your position you looked down in an almost scary way to his warm brown eyes. Tom swore you were literally reading his thoughts, your intense gaze absolutely crumbling any walls he thought he’d be able to hold up. Pressing a gentle peck to his lips you then whispered onto his lips, letting him feel your words as well as hear them. “ …So that’s why we are going to sleep right now and you can worry about all of that tomorrow”

“Y/n I-“

“Your safe with me.” You were not standing for his nexuses and arguments, as you slid down his body - ending with your head resting on his chest, you legs tangled with his. Once you’re properly rested you’ll learn them ten times faster than what you can now… Before you get ill I am telling you to take a break. I’m not going to let you not. So relax and-….Tom?” Ending with a whisper, you delicately lifted your head off his slowly rising chest to see your broken boyfriend already asleep; lips parted as soft snores crept through the silence. In reality as soon as you’d said that he was safe the exhaustion had completely over taken him. Desperately needing to recharge his batteries, no matter how much he had wanted to stay up and work late it could never really happen - at this point physically impossible.

“Sleep well Tom” she smiled, planting a kiss on his cheek with a sad smile.

///////////////////////////////////////////

The next day rolled around all too quickly, but the morning was much better than any of the past couple of months because you were together. Tom, having had a solid 7 hours of sleep compared to his normal 5, was for once ready for the day. He’d gone through the script with a certain someones help in record time, and now the three were just pulling up at the set.

“You’ve been awful quiet this car ride…” you grinned as she clasped Tom’s hand across the empty seat, making Harry turn around and give you a warning glance. Oops. In a moment where Tom went to the loo at breakfast, Harry had fully disclosed everything that had happened on set yesterday- especially the burst of anger. So naturally, Tom was feeling nervous and scared to face everyone.

“It will be fine I promise… and if not tell them I’m your personal body guard- no one will be rude to you if me and Harry are ready to attack” Tom let out a breathy nervous laugh, only then meeting your eyes.

“ A fly wouldn’t be threatened by you two. Harry would just take a photo while you’d check their pulse or something”

“Errrm” Harry furrowed his eyebrows as he contorted round from the front seat so Tom could see his disapproving look, meanwhile Tom was dodging your affectionate fake-slaps.

“Children we’re here” Sian sighed as she brought the car to a steady halt “and if you could get through the day without killing each other I’d appreciate it, otherwise I’m out of the job”

“Not promising anything when I’ve got these pair to deal with” Tom grinned as he opened the car door, before anyone else could retaliate.You laughed before quickly following suit, joining Tom at the front of the car and interlocking your fingers with Tom’s. Hesitating for a moment Harry took a second before unplugging and leaning for the door handle.

“You see what I mean?” Turning his head to look at Sian “It’s sickening how happy they are.”

“Yeh but your glad about it don’t lie” she grinned, before practically shooing the poor boy out her car.

“But dont tell them!” Shouting in reply, as the car was already pulling out.

Tom’s body seemed to tense more the closer you walked to the crew tent, you could feel the way he squeezed his shoulders back and his jaw tensed and untensed. There was little you could do apart from squeezing his hand that little bit tighter - further reiterating the fact you would always always be in his corner. Perhaps the most telling about Tom’s own character was how truly guilty he felt for the way he was with the crew. Normally, he was one of the most down to earth actors around - no trace of an ego or superiority complex. It didn’t matter if you were a cleaner or head of a multimillion dollar studio, Tom would pay both the same amount of respect. He always out that completely down to his upbringing and mum and dad, but even that was being humble. He was just a good person to the core, no one saw that more than you either. It’s part of love, you see the good and the bad parts of a person and promise to unashamedly love them all.

Just before you both had made it into the main tent, Tom was pulled away. “Oh Tom we wanted to talk to you about yesterday!” The familiar voice of Joe Russo called, as he and Anthony ran up to Tom from his left, giving a little nod of greeting to the actor, before falling in step with him.

“Morning, I-uh I wanted to apologise actually-“Tom was cut off while you hung back off to his right, not wanting to intrude on this conversation.

“No we should. The team were all being slow yesterday, and they were making some hard scenes harder on you. We really appreciate what you are putting yourself through for the sake of the film.”

“But still I acted like a brat and I’m sorry”

“Tom” Anthony spoke up for the first time. He was a man of limited words- but whenever he spoke everyone listened. “ You are one of the best, most-dedicated actors we’ve ever worked with. We’re all overtired, run down and ready for the holidays. You’re missing your family too. It’s already forgotten… So let’s just get on with the movie?” Tom smiled, pressing his lips together to stop their kindness overtaking his emotions. Tom always felt safe with the Russo’s. They’d dealt with him when he really just was a kid actor - overwhelmed and without a clue what was happening. They’d dealt with hiM adjusting to fame and the much bigger part Marvel seemed to want him to play in the future. They trusted him with this, most incredibly complex and also personal film for them. So when they spoke and they said it didn’t matter, Tom was much more likely to agree. Then proceeded the bro-hugs, as the men all showed they were good with each other.

“Well lets make a motherfucking movie!” Tom exclaimed once they broke the hug and the brothers laughed at him. “Oh where-d….” He muttered as he looked round before meeting your eyes, still standing rather awkwardly a couple of meters behind them. “ Joe, Anthony you remember Y/n?” Nodding and smiling the brothers beckoned you over; both greeting you with a warm handshake.

“Good to see you again!” You grinned and the directors responded nodding.

“We didn’t know you were coming! I would’ve made a list of all my doctor question for you.” Joe winked, knowing your pet-peeve was people asking you all their gory body questions as soon as they found out she was a doctor. You didn’t need to know about you dentists acid reflux issue, you didn’t need to know about your granny’s friend’s constipation, and you really really didn’t need to know about an old friends erectile dysfunction.

“Ha ha ha “ You rolled your eyes sarcastically “ and no it was a bit of a spontaneous trip, I just landed last night.” Throughout the whole of the exchange Anthony had taken an aloof stance, just observing you and Tom. Observing the bright smile Tom gave you, even when you were simply making small talk. The way he looked so much healthier, well rested and just happy, in the space of a single evening.

“I’m glad you’re here” Anthony basically interrupted the conversation, addressing you then immediately turning on his heel towards the set.

“Uhh right- get to make up we’ll call a cast meeting in a bit” Joe stammered, giving his brother a funny look before addressing Tom “ and we’ll have to have a proper catch up later.” You nodded in response, as Joe turned and did a half jog to catch up with his brother.

“That was weird!?” You frowned as you looked up at Tom. He explained the encounter in rather simplistic terms.

“That was Anthony.”

The morning was spent with Tom doing what he does best in front of the camera. They were shooting a larger scene for the army section of the movie, with at least 100 actual soldiers as extras, all geared up in full camo outfits. It was impressive, but also gave you a chance to meet Ciara - you’d been dying to meet her since Tom told you what a laugh she was. Fair to say you weren’t disappointed at all, you guys hitting it off instantly and you going as far as giving Ciara some embarrassing Tom stories that she could wind him up with in the future. Of course though, the main attraction was seeing Tom act first hand. Every time it astounded you, even though you knew that face so completely, in all his movies he fully had you believing he was someone else. It was mesmerising and you couldn’t be any prouder.

“You’re amazing! I seriously forgot how good you are!” You ran over as Joe Russo called cut to the end of the morning shoot.

“Well er thanks I guess” Tom furrowed his eyebrows as you wrapped him in a hug. He’d just canned a pretty hard scene and everyone was more than ready for a lunch break. You’s been watching from behind the cameras with Harry the whole time, after Tom gave you permission to sit in his special set chair.

“Seriously I’m very…. “ Her speech broken with an impressive yawn “….very proud of you.” In thanks Tom gave you a kiss first to your nose and then lips.

“I take it someones not adapting to jet lag?” He chuckled as he pulled away and cupped your face in his hands.

“Which I’m totally ashamed about considering I work night shifts… my body clocks supposed to be better than this” Angrily, you vented, frustrated at your own body when all you wanted to do was stays within reaching distance of Tom. Even if Tom had had the best sleep of this whole shoot last night, you’d been to over excited and enthralled just absorbing every little thing about him that you’d missed so much that you’d been wide awake the majority of the night. If you blamed you fatigue on jet lag alone, it would be an impressive lie.

“Go take a nap in my trailer… Harry can you take her?”

“Yes master” Harry bowed down and wobbled his head sarcastically, making you giggle.

“At least this way you get a break from him” You grinned to Tom’s brother, which Harry could only agree with. Giving Tom a parting kiss , you followed Harry away from set. It was at this point that Anthony excused himself from the monitors reviewing the footage, and approached Tom.

“Kid… that was great that scene.”

“Thanks mate, means a lot” Getting his directors approval forever reassured Tom, letting him relax his shoulders a bit as he nodded gratefully to Anthony.

“Well it’s just truth… so your girlfriend, Y/n right?”

“Yeh that’s her” Tom nodded, suddenly a little concerned as to where Anthony was going with this. You had met the Russo’s a number of times, and it never before seemed as though Anthony had an issue with you- at least to Tom’s knowledge.

“Right well um… you know how I don’t really get involved in all this stuff…” Tom nodded, folding his arms apprehensively. “But I just thought I should say that she’s really good for you.” Tom silently breathed a sigh of relief and waited for Anthony to get to the point. “Joe told me you had a rough patch at the beginning of the year so… I don’t know our industry is hard. And harder for you and her in the spotlight… Just seeing you with her today…Don’t be afraid to take the next steps with her…Don’t let her get away.” Tom was stunned to say the least. Anthony is the last person he had ever expected to get relationship advice from.

“I um yeh… I don’t know I hadn’t really thought about it. I mean we’ve been together for 2 and a bit years, well including the break… she means the world to me-“

“Well don’t waste it”

And that was the end of the conversation. Anthony turned to his trailer to get lunch and Tom just stood, replaying the conversation in his head. Weird to say the least.

But it did get the cogs turning. It did get Tom really seriously considering his future. Or rather considering your future together.

And that was for certain. It was you and him, always.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tomholland #Harry Holland #tom holland x y/n

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gb-patch · 3 years

Text

Ask Answers (February 22nd, 2021)

Hello! Here’s another collection of anon ask answers all put together in one big post.

This might be strange considering how upbeat yall are about the fandoms for your games in general, but is there any particular trope or ship you WOULDN'T want us writing/drawing/etc. in relation to your stuff? (IE, any canon you don't want us 'overwriting' or something like that?)

Of course we would want the fan content people make to not be racist, sexist, homophobic, bigoted, harmful, etc. But in terms of generally doing non-canon pairings or adding in headcanons or stuff, we really don’t mind that. People are welcome to have fun and explore their own ideas.

for the 1.2 Android update was it meant to download as a separate app? I really want to keep my previous save files but they don't show up (also thank u for the updates I'm really excited to get back into the game!!)

We had to change the name of the file and unfortunately for some phones that meant it’s treated as a brand new game. I’m sorry your saves didn’t transfer over to the new version. You can try to look up your specific phone and see if there’s a way to access save files for games on your device and then transfer those saves over to the new build manually. It may or may not be possible.

I'm having some trouble figuring out how to get the update from Itichio without losing my save files? Is it the same game or a folder I can put in the properties? Sorry if this question is not worded well or if this isn't the avenue you'd want to take technical questions on

Are you using Android? If so, the above answer may apply to you. If you’re on PC or Mac, the save files will automatically still be included.

Hey. I really loved playing our life. It was a fun experience and I never thought I would like it this much. I do have a question, I am currently replaying the game and I am choosing choices I never chose at first. In step 2 during the road trip arc, I decided to ask Cove about what he liked to see on people. One of his response was anklets and black eyes. My MC have just happens to have black eyes. Do Cove say black eyes cuz my mc have it or it was just a coincidently programmed into the game?

He uses your eye color intentionally! If you changed your eye color he’d change what he said.

Will step 4 have 10 moments like steps 1-3?

Step 4 is only an epilogue. It plays like the openings/endings of the earlier Steps where it’s a bunch of scenes all in a row, there aren’t any individual Moments.

hi! who was/were the artist(s) for our life?

who is the artist for Our Life: Beginning and Always?

Main Sprite and CG Artist: Addrossi

Main Background Artist: Vui Huynh

Main Interface Artist: Winter Slice

Other artists who helped out can be seen in the credits of the game.

In the new ol, there are two main love interests... Would it be possible to pair them together or is that weird?

You can’t stay single and pair them together. If we are going to add all the extra content to have a route where the two LIs get together, it’d be a full poly route where them and the MC were all dating. And that’s not a for sure option yet because it’d add a lot of extra complications. But either way, in OL the relationships all gotta be about the MC, haha.

In OL2, there will be extra LIs in form of DLCs? Like Dexter and Baxter.

Maybe! We’ll see how it goes.

Since Cove will have 2 diff body types in s4, will the storyline and dialogs reflect this? Or all of it will be the same? Btw love the game and sorry for bad english. Hope this doesn't sound rude 😅

Some descriptions and pieces of dialog will change, but it won’t impact the story really. And you don’t need to apologize! It’s all good.

Will you ever release the transparent sprites of the Our Life characters?

Probably not, I’m afraid. They’ve got a lot of pieces and it’d just be kind of hard to deal with, aha.

Something I was curious about, what was your inspiration for making a game with so much customization?

Initially, the idea was just about having a romance where you actually grew up with the LI. But it was pretty stressful to try deciding how fast the relationship would progress with it taking place over such a long period of time and with no real storyline carrying it. People might not wanna play a game where the characters don’t get along as kids, but other people might not bother with a game where kids immediately liked each other. So the obvious answer came, just let the player pick themselves how it goes. From there we simply continued to add more flexibly with the MC due to the same thought process of wanting to make sure people were onboard with how their life was going.

What made you decide to change the artstyle for ol 2 so much? I of course respect all your decisions and will buy the shit out of everything related to ol 2, but i love the original style and i m honestly not a fan of the styles shown on patreon, despite me liking the painterly style in general. (I don t mind the style being changed, just that the examples shown so far all feel like there s something wrong with them.)

We’ve always used different art styles for each of our projects. They all have distinct looks from each other. It’s just nice to do something new. I’m glad you really like how the first game looks, though. And those samples were only general concepts, rather than the exact options being decided between. We wanted to see reactions to different options. The art style we’re going with won’t be exactly like those, though I personally like all of them. I think players are gonna enjoy the style Our Life: Now & Forever when it’s revealed.

Hey! Is it ok to ask what gender ourlife2 protagonist will be and if we'll be given the same opportunity to customize an MC? Totally understand if you're keeping this under wraps for now if u don't wanna say!

OL2 will have the same type of MC customization as OL1, but even more refined! So their gender will be up to you.

Hi! I happened upon Our Life on Steam by pure chance. It is such a great game, I am super excited about the DLC, and I just want you all to know that you are awesome! :D I have a question, and I'm sorry if it's been asked before. Do you have plans of making more games similar to Our Life, with customizable player character? The customizable player character was probably the one thing I personally have been desperate for in romance VNs. So glad there finally is one and would love to see more.

Thank you! And yep, we do have plans for more games like Our Life, most notably is another game in the franchise- Our Life: Now & Forever. We’ll also likely have other, non-OL, games with customizable MCs, though we may still have some games with set MCs in the future as well.

On the patreon dlc just curious but is it possible to play it without actually sleeping together/getting the nsfw content? I just want to spend more time with Cove

Yeah, you can still choose not to go that far. Though the event is shorter if you pass on the 18+ stuff.

At the beginning of Step 2, did Cove end up accidentally falling asleep in your bed? Or did he fall asleep on the floor?

He fell asleep sitting on the floor with his body/head leaning against the side of the bed.

This may seem like a weird question, but what exactly is the difference between "direct" and "relaxed" on the comfort scale?

Direct is blunter and more teasing, relaxed is lighthearted and goes with the flow.

can the MC have tattoos in step 3?

Not in Step 3, but you can in Step 4.

how would Cove react if he visited somewhere like North Carolina in winter where it can get in the 20s(F) at night sometimes?

He would be shocked and unprepared for what serious coldness is really like, haha. The poor beach baby would wanna go home.

Hello! I just joined the PATREON!! It’s amazing! I love your games! I have a question, approximately how much after will the nsfw be out? After or before the dlc 3 and step four? Sorry my English isn’t the best!❤️❤️❤️

Thanks so much! The NSFW DLC will be out after the Step 3 DLC but before Step 4. And you don’t need to apologize for that ^^.

This might be obvious but, will step 4 have dlcs? Also, where will the nsfw dlc happen? Won't bother me at all if it s in in our or his house but i do think it d be moderately funny

Step 4 will have the Cove Wedding DLC and the Derek and Baxter romance DLCs each add a lot of new content to Step 4, though they’re also partially set in Step 2 and Step 3 respectively. The NSFW DLC happens in Cove’s room.

I keep wondering what would've happened if Mr. Holden met Lizzie first instead of the MC. I can't see that turning out well somehow lol.

It wouldn’t have made a difference. He met the MC’s parents first and they told him about their two kids. He wanted the MC specifically to be Cove’s friend because the two were the same age.

Even though we have a way to go I'm really excited for OL 2! I was curious though, is the next main character going to be adopted again? I thought it was really clever to make the first main character adopted so when players are customizing, they can make them look how ever they like without worrying about pesky genetics. Just wondering!

The OL2 MC is not adopted. We wanted to go for a new dynamic. Instead their parents are their biological single mother who is partially customizable and an off-screen sperm donor father. So the mom will look generally like the MC and any other traits not from her can be assumed to come from whoever the father was.

—– —– —–

Thank you so much for all the asks ^^

FAQ If you prefer to just see the main posts without all the asks/reblogs, feel free to follow our side account instead: GB Patch Updates Blog

#our life #Our Life Beginnings & Always #ourlifeba #ask #gb patch #gb patch games #Our Life: Now & Forever

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thefloorisbalaclava · 3 years

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hiii cass!! idk if you’re into writing for jack/whiskey but i had an idea and wanted to see if you could take a crack at it. :) the song “real good man” by tim mcgraw really reminds me of whiskey and i thought it might inspire you! :) love u!!

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader

Warnings: Just some flirting

A/N: I just mentioned something about missing Jack and forgot I had this sitting in my inbox! Thanks for sending this in and sorry it’s taken me so long to get to it. I looked at the lyrics for the song and this is the idea that immediately came to me! I hope you like it!

[Agent Whiskey masterlist]

“Now it’s time for some minglin’,” he said to himself as he turned off the comm hidden in his suit jacket. He looked around the room and sighed. “If I find anyone I wanna mingle with that is.” This place was full of people who were up on their high horses and never came down. His eyes scanned the room slowly. At first he looked past you, but then he looked back and noticed just how bored you looked. You sipped at one of those fancy drinks and rolled your eyes at whatever the man next to you was whispering in your ear. Suddenly, you turned to the man and smiled, seemingly excusing yourself and getting the hell away from him. Jack followed your every move with his eyes and waited until he saw you step outside to join you out there.

“Stuffy in there, ain’t it?” he asked and you turned your head just enough to look over your shoulder.

“A stuffy room full of stuffy people,” you responded before turning to face forward again.

“You here with your husband or something?” He moved until he stood side-by-side with you.

“No.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Nope.”

“Girlfriend?” He had to cover all the bases.

You turned to him. “You ask a lot of questions, Mr...”

“Daniels. Jack Daniels.” He stuck his hand out and you shook it.

“Like the whiskey? Is that a joke?” You got a good look at him. The bolo tie was unlike anything you had ever seen. You looked down at his feet and noticed the cowboy boots. The only thing missing was a cowboy hat which you were sure he had somewhere.

“No ma’am. That’s my name.” He smiled when he saw the way you looked at him.

“I could use a whiskey right about now,” you murmured and he raised his eyebrows. “The drink.”

“A fancy lady like you drinkin’ whiskey? Let me guess, you like that expensive stuff?” He leaned against the railing and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Give me some Jameson or...Jack Daniels any day.” You gave him a look and he smirked.

“You ain’t like those people in there at all, are you?”

“No and neither are you,” you pointed out.

“Did the tie give me away?” he asked and you laughed. “Hey, this might be a little outta line, but you wanna maybe get out of here?”

“Please.”

You followed him down to his car--a Bronco--and he opened the door for you. On the passenger seat sat a cowboy hat. He moved it and threw it into the backseat.

“I knew it,” you said.

“Knew what?”

“That you had a cowboy hat.” You looked at him and he shrugged.

“What can I say?” He helped you get into the car then closed the door. He climbed in on the driver’s side and turned to you. “So...where to, ma’am?”

“Surprise me.”

“You sure about that?” He put his arm over the back of your seat. “You gotta remember I ain’t like those people in there. You’re in for a wild ride,” he warned.

“Maybe I need something wild in my life.”

“Well, then, let’s go.” He winked at you before starting the Bronco. You sat back and put your feet up on the dashboard, making him smile over at you as he pulled off a little too fast.

I may be a real bad boy But, baby, I’m a real good man

---

agent whiskey taglist: @hoodedbirdie @limenlimon @66wookies @no-droids-allowed @snips-n-skyguy0501 @allthingsnarcos @fangirlingss @damerondjarin @darthdumbasss @triggerhappyflygirl @ladybeediva @heythere80sbaby

permanent taglist: @gallowsjoker @magicsuperheroes @feelmyroarrrr @the-dazzling-urbanite @phoenixhalliwell @liveloudwriteloud @tumblogbykarapaloma @jaime1110 @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @pascalz @blancatobarxoxo @dazedrhapsody @pascalisthepunkest @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @cryptkeepersoul @tiffdawg @freak-of-nature2002 @kingpascals @saltywintersoldat @theocatkov @babybelou @mandilflorian @aeryntheofficial @cyaredindjarin @winters-buck @the-feckless-wonder @loki-098 @arabellathorne @giselatropicana @dindisneydjarin @punkpascal @opheliaelysia @takens-world @huliabitch @stardelic @kandomeresbitch @havenforafrazzledmind @thisis-theway @stardust-galaxies @mrsparknuts @jedi-mando @frankiemorales @edencherries @lilkermit14 @virtualxjournality @ladytrashbird @thirstworldproblemss @emesispo @heresathreebee @tangledlove27 @marvgrrl @clydes-hole @hayley-the-comet @insoucianttt @witchyavenger @coaaster @starless-eyes-remain @wanderlustmags @wonderfulfluffer @lv7867 @lovelyasfcuk @pedropasscals @talesfromtheguild @pedroepascal @wigwitch @seasonschange-butpeopledont @theoria850 @roxypeanut @justanotherblonde23 @autumnleaves1991-blog @kenedyybrooklin @artsymaddie @dindjareen @silverfish-kingdom @heyitmelexie @gredandfeorgesgirl @mandaloriandindjarin @andriecastana @rosiefridayrogersunday @ssppoorrkk @amalie-buch @lucifer- @mstgsmy @randomness501 @max–phillips @darthadeline @youarenewformetoo @thehippiequilter @stardust-galaxies @whovian-gurl @neverlandlibrarian @chibi-liz05 @dragons-of-the-usa

i hope everyone is where they want to be! let me know if you want to be changed around! join a taglist here!

#agent whiskey #headcanon #request #jeeperky #pedro pascal

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random-mha-thoughts · 4 years

Text

Name (Todoroki x Reader)

Pairing: Todoroki x fem!Reader

Anon asked: “suggestion for Todoroki angst : he got in an arranged marriage with S/O because of his dad who offered a large amount of money to her family for this. Indeed it’s not what they are both looking for but Todoroki really acts cold, is sharp, openly criticizes her (a bit OOC ik) ... S/O is hurt but is still trying to be a good wife around the house to make the best of the situation and hide her insecurities. It’s just an idea, if it does not inspire you I hope you will find something better!! xx

Genre: Angst. Just...angst. I’m so sorry in advance plz don’t hate me

Warnings: Grab your tissues, this is a long roller coaster that’s only going downhill OH GOD I’M SO SORRY

Word count: 3,059

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog

a/n: (Submission 1/3 for my post asking for todo angst ideas! Thanks for the ask anon!)

Um. This is...depressing. Really depressing and really intense. I didn’t expect it would turn out this way. But it did. I had 2 other endings, but I instinctively wrote this one. I actually had to stop and cry for a few minutes because it was just really painful I mean, I know I said I was ready to but I didn’t actually mEAn it

I tried a different style for this, but I think it suits the story well. It’s 3rd person limited because I wanted you to experience everyone’s feelings in this (gotta maximize on the angst yknow) and half past tense bc of reasons you’ll find out.

God I’m afraid to post this. Is it bad that I love it, I honestly spent so much time writing this, but it hurts sO mUch?? Y’all are gonna hate me, you’re gonna kill me, oh no, just read the thing already, I’m hiding.

Buy me a coffee?

Shoto didn't know how to react to the news. It's not that he had his eye on anyone in particular, or that he was even interested in marriage for that matter. But because he proposed it, the man who had spent his entire childhood controlling every aspect of his life, he refused to accept any other intrusions from the man he should call "father."

The strange man across from his father spoke those words so casually. "So Endeavor, when are these two tying the knot?"

At first, he thought he had misheard or misunderstood. And then his father responded just as casually, "The date is set for next month."

The normally calm and collected boy almost burst the entire room into flames. He clenched the silverware so hard his knuckles turned white and his teeth ground together, but he couldn't say anything in front of his father's guest and his daughter for fear of shaming himself. The girl across from him offered a sympathetic look, but he turned away, already preparing the earful he's going to give his father.

"I want nothing to do with this!" he whirled on Endeavor as soon as they were home. "You've made my life a living hell controlling every single thing! And now you even want to control my marriage?!"

"I'm doing this for you!" Endeavor bellowed right back. "For the Todoroki name! For your future!"

"This is all for you! I want no part-!"

"If you don't agree, you'll never see your mother or the siblings again."

The calm threat was enough to drench Shoto's wrath into submissive fear. The flaming monster in front of him proved once again that he hasn't an ounce of sympathy for his blood. He's learned that family is the only thing keeping his son under his thumb and he still actively exploits that weakness.

All the boy can do is swallow and walk away, retreating to the outside world to escape his bitter reality even temporarily. Shoto doesn't have outbursts often, but there are times when the straw finally breaks the camel's back, and this is one of them. All he can do is run until he can't run anymore, reaching somewhere secluded enough where he can burst out in flames and ice without hurting anyone, finally getting to a forest where he can do exactly that and scream to his heart's content. It's the only thing he can do that is under his own control.

In the month that followed up to the wedding, Shoto barely spoke a word to anyone, choosing to isolate himself. He only came out when he absolutely had to show his face at functions to the bride's family and look presentable. His mind was always absent, the time flying in a blur of colors and white. Thankfully, his father did the preparations, so all he had to do was go along with everything. Shoto was simply playing a role in a play or movie, he was an actor who deserved an award for being in character for a month.

The night of the wedding, he and his newly-wedded wife were whisked away to their new home, being alone for the first time together. He didn't even know what she looked like nor did he care. As soon as they walked through the door of their already-furnished house, he released a heavy breath, brushed past her, unbuttoned his tuxedo, and - cold as his ice quirk - instructed, "I'm going to bed. Don't come up tonight." It was the first time he had ever spoken directly to her.

His wife, through this entire ordeal, was patient with him. She didn't want this arrangement either, but she figured they could at least talk and come to a mutual agreement. The entire month, she never pushed him to speak to her. She anticipated that he would be rational about this, as she was told by her family, and that they would be able to talk things over when they were finally alone. Just as she was going to speak her mind the way she had rehearsed it many times, he dismissed her. She was hurt, but she understood. He's exhausted after a whole month of stress and preparations, she rationalized, He just wants to rest. I wouldn't want to talk to a stranger after all that either.

Resolving to try again tomorrow morning, she undressed (with great difficulty), crept into the master bedroom for her clothes while Shoto showers, retrieved her pajamas quietly, and retreated back to the living room. The girl searched all the closets for a thick enough blanket and settles down to sleep on a couch, the exhaustion putting her right to sleep.

The next morning, the new Mrs. Todoroki woke up bright and early to make breakfast for her husband as an olive branch. She toiled away in the kitchen, somewhat making a racket even though she wanted to stay quiet so Shoto can sleep. Just as she finished setting the table and had to face the question of how to wake him, the boy padded down from the room.

"Oh, morning!" she smiled brightly at him.

He murmured a greeting back only to be polite, his face devoid of any real emotions other than coldness. He sat as far away from her a possible, thanking her for the meal halfheartedly and digging in without another word.

After waiting a few moments to let him satisfy his hunger, she cleared her throat. "So, um-"

"Your tamagoyaki needs more soy sauce and butter," he stated bluntly.

She blinked at the harsh comment. It was shocking he said anything to her at all, and the first thing he said was an insult.

"And the miso has no flavor," he continued in the same tone.

The girl finally gathered her wits. "I'll do better tomorrow. Thanks for the feedback, I guess?" she laughed nervously, trying to erase the immense tension Shoto bled into the atmosphere. When he didn't respond, she tried again. "I know this isn't something either of us wanted, but that doesn't mean we have to live here like enemies. We could be friends, or even just roommates!"

"I'd rather be strangers," he interjected harshly.

It felt like a stab in the heart. Here she was, trying to make their lives somewhat bearable together through their common misfortune, and all he wanted to do was live like ghosts in the same house.

Shoto placed his chopsticks down firmly, glaring her straight in the eyes with the iciest hatred she's ever seen. "Just to be clear, I want no part of you. You live your life and I live mine. You can have the bedroom to sleep at night if you want, but it's mine when I come home to shower and prepare for bed. We will not sleep, talk, or breathe near each other as long as we are in this house."

She dipped her head in defeat, unable to bear the weight of his stare. "C-Can we at least have our meals together?" she asked feebly.

It's something he respected, coming from family values no matter how broken. It's the only exception he made to their less-than relationship.

Months passed and she kept her end of the bargain through a suffocating routine. At first, the girl was kind, trying to get him to open up to her somehow without overstepping her boundaries. She made excuses for him constantly. He's just tired. The least I can do is leave him alone. I can't comfort him anyway, I'm a stranger. He's still upset about the whole thing, he'll come around. She even begged her boss to let her leave a little early every day to make sure she had ample amount of time to get home, shower, and prepare dinner before Shoto returned. When he did, he wordlessly showered, sat down to dinner, nitpicked at her cooking, finished eating, and went to sleep on the living room couch, all without even sparing her a glance.

But as every day passed, she grew more weary and worn in her efforts to please him. She tried to fix every little complaint Shoto had about her cooking or the cleanliness of the house or the laundry, but nothing seemed to satisfy him. She tried to hold onto the silver lining. At least he never touched me wrong or took advantage of me, she would think bitterly. He has the decency not to take his anger out on me.

Then the dark thoughts closed in as he continued ignoring her. Surely, Shoto's only disgusted with his father, he doesn't harbor hatred for her personally. Then she would remember the hate and disgust in his mismatched eyes the first day of their marriage. She realized no matter how desperately she tried, he wouldn't show her any signs of warmth or appreciation. No more did she try to make conversation with him during meals or greet him when he came home. There were days she thought, Why should I even try? He wouldn't like it either way. What's the point of getting up today? Maybe he'll even criticize how I sleep. But she still rose out of bed every morning and carried out her routine because it could always be worse.

A sliver of hope came in the form of Shoto's birthday. The girl figured if she did something just a little special, he would acknowledge her even the tiniest bit. She spent days beforehand researching and testing out the perfect cold soba recipe because she knew it was his favorite. She lit some candles on the table and bought a small cake for them to share.

When he came home, she was sure he would notice and say something, but he didn't; he went straight up to the bathroom as he usually did without a word. Though she felt the glimmer lessen in her heart, she didn't give up. For the first time in a while, she verbalized her thoughts to him.

"I made your favorite for your birthday!" she chirped as he sat down, setting the plate and a cup of dipping sauce in front of him. She was so eager for him to try it because she was confident she'd gotten it right this time. If she were a dog, her tail would've wagged in anticipation as he slurped the noodles into his mouth. She waited patiently for his feedback, leaning forward in excitement as he swallowed.

"The noodles are slightly overcooked. And the dipping sauce is too strong, you didn't add enough water."

Her hopes came crashing to a halt. She couldn't even muster anything else to say as he hastily finished his dinner and rose to leave.

She stood up, heart hammering in her chest. "What about the cake?" Anything, something!

"I don't want it." He turned his back to her.

"I got it for you!" It was the first time she explicitly stated her intentions, the first time she made herself vulnerable.

"You shouldn't have gotten it at all. It was a waste of time. Why did you even try?" The calm and cold words stung her as he got up and left her in the dining room alone.

His words echoed against the empty walls of the dining room. She looked down at the cake he disregarded, feeling cold and dizzy. She took a shaky breath in and out before resting her head on the cold glass table to stabilize herself. The voice stabs through her even as she closed her eyes to block them out.

It was then she felt bluntly in her mind. He hates me.

The girl feels nothing but numbing cold, both on her face and inside. Rolling up to sit, her neck and back cry out in soreness from sleeping on the table, pale light greeting her from the nearby window. Her face feels strange, and she trudges to the bathroom mirror to check why. She knows she should be preparing for work, but what's the point? Her reflection reveals lines across her cheek, probably from sleeping on the edge of the table. She shuffles to the kitchen because she should probably start breakfast, but why should she? Leaning against the counter, she can't bring herself to move anywhere. Her brain buffers as she tries to force herself to think of what to do now. She doesn't feel sick, but there's a dull, cool feeling in her limbs that she can't face.

The phone rings, catching her off guard. Glancing at the number, she doesn't hesitate to answer. "Hello?"

"Hi, baby. It's me."

Her eyebrows relax, appreciating the sound of a familiar voice. "Hey, Mom. What's up?" She knows her voice sounds weak, she's hoping the woman can't hear it.

"I'm just checking in, you haven't called in a while. Is something up? You don't sound good."

"I'm...fine," she stumbles over the word. "How's dad?"

"He's doing well. You sure you're not sick, sweetie?"

"I'm not." She leans her back on the counter.

"Is Shoto there? How is he?"

And just like that, she feels something dislodge in her throat. "He's going to work, he probably left early." She doesn't know, there hasn't been any rustling in the house.

Her mom is silent for a while. "Tell me the truth. What happened?"

The sound of her mother's stern voice moves something in her chest. "It's nothing, I just made a mistake."

"Doing what?"

"I tried making Shoto's favorite dish for his birthday yesterday. I put so much time and energy into perfecting it for him to enjoy it, but I fell short again." She laughs bitterly, tears starting to fill her eyes. "He didn't even want the cake I got for him, he said it was a waste. I shouldn't have bothered with it." She blinks and a tear slides down her face. "I don't know why I was expecting something different to happen, I'm so stupid."

"Honey, where is this coming from? What's going on?"

She wipes her face, but more spill out of her eyes as she slides down the cabinet onto the cold floor. "It's just a little frustrating when you're sharing a house with someone you're married to and they barely acknowledge you. I mean, I expected there to be problems at first given the circumstances, but I didn't expect this." Her voice shakes with every word. "God, what did I do to deserve this? I've lived in this house for 5 months, and never has he even said 'thank you' to me. Hasn't breathed a word of appreciation to me. I do so much for him. I've bent over backwards for him just to make everything done the way he wants it, I've worked my entire routine, my entire life in this house to cater to him, but all he does is complain!" She sobs into the phone, curling up into a ball as tremors wrack through her body. "I'm just so tired. I don't know how much more I can take. I've made so many excuses for him, but I just can't do anything right. Why am I even still here?"

Her mother is silent on the other line. "My baby, if I knew this would happen, I wouldn't have allowed this marriage. I can't believe you're going through this."

The girl can't formulate words or think anything coherent. She drops the phone out of her hand, wrapping her legs to her chest as the tremors continue in waves, muffled whimpers the only thing escaping her lips because she's afraid to cry out loud despite being in an empty, lonely house.

Shoto heard something he probably shouldn't have, but he definitely needed to hear. It bothered him for the rest of the day. It was a sobering slap in the face that made him feel shame and regret, a hard-to-swallow pill that sat in his stomach the entire day.

On his way back home, the sound of her sobs echoes in his mind. He curses his behavior from the past few months. At the very least, he made a lady cry, and at the most, he's been a complete asshole. It's all his fault, that is something he's completely aware of and is ready to take full responsibility for. All this time, he was stupidly neglecting her out of spite for his father, but he broke her in the process. He's angry that he had to hear her crying to realize that. The only thing he can do now is hurry home to profusely apologize for what he's done and hope they can start over new and she forgives him, which he's prepared for her not to do.

Honestly, he deserves all the hate from her that he's shown her. After everything she's done for him and all the effort she's put into their imbalanced relationship, he wouldn't be surprised if she yelled at him and called him all sorts of names.

Shoto walks through the door, the atmosphere different. The house is quiet as usual, but it's more eerie than he remembers, as if that means anything with how aloof he was. He slips into the bedroom and changes quickly, returning back to the quiet dining room where his dinner waits for him at his place.

He tentatively sits and spares a quick glance at the girl who's supposed to be his wife. Her eyes are still puffy and she's tugging at her sleeves. It seems she's avoiding him and he was avoiding her before. He questions how things should start. When is the right time to speak his piece. Would she listen to him now? He decides to take a bite first and chews slowly. I guess a 'thank you' is a good place to start-

"We're getting a divorce."

He stops suddenly, almost choking.

"You don't owe me anything, and I don't want anything from you." She isn't looking at him, voice calm and collected. "Besides, it's better this way since it's what you wanted." She rises from her seat smoothly. "I've already packed for the next few nights. I'll have some workers come in the following weeks to clear out the rest, and the papers will be delivered promptly." Her footsteps recede from the room.

Shoto turns around to call out to her, and his minds comes up blank.

He never even bothered to remember her name.

Sequel?

Sequel!

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #todoroki angst #todoroki imagine #todoroki scenario #female reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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nonstoplover · 4 years

Text

friend of a friend ~ Calum Hood (song drabble)

my masterlist │ my song drabbles

song i used as inspiration: new hope club ~ friend of a friend

words: 1.9K

approximate reading time: about 10-15 mins

a/n: just a short, fluffy blurb with baby Cal, not exactly my favourite song drabble i've ever written, but that's alright. anything with Calum Hood in it is worth writing. i hope you enjoy reading this, and if you do, please like and/or comment to help a lonely writer feel a little less alone.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Calum could see a person approaching the group he was bluntly keeping an eye on. He turned his head to the side in fear that it was her boyfriend, jaw dropping as soon as his mind placed a name next to the fairly familiar face of the newly arrived.

Jacob. Back in primary school, they were good friends. And now he was seemingly part of the squad gathering next to the small stage as they greeted him so joyously.

Calum watched to see if there was anything hinting at Jacob being romantically involved with the girl, but other than a friendly hug and wide smiles, nothing happened, leaving him much relieved.

"Who are you gawking at so hard?" Mali-Koa chuckled, arriving back to her brother with two glasses of champagne.

"No one," he was quick to tear his eyes off the young girl.

"Sure," his sister frowned but pressed no more.

By the time the wedding ceremony ended, the perfect plan had already formed in his head about how he could accidentally get closer to the gorgeous woman and maybe even introduce himself and possibly start a conversation. He just had to walk up to Jacob to reminisce about the good old times.

He ate the dinner in impatient silence, only short answers left his lips when someone sitting around him asked something. The food was absolutely delicious, but his mind was filled with thoughts trying to bring his plan to perfection to the brim, leaving no space for him to contemplate the savoury chef-d'oeuvre.

He kept on glancing back at her, and multiple times she looked up and caught his eyes, making him swiftly turn away with sparkles running inside his body and a blush appearing in his face.

As soon as music got louder and people swarmed the dancefloor, he was ready to approach the group, but just as he had stood up, a random guy came in the picture and took the girl to dancing. Without her around it was pointless to go up and chat with Jacob so he slumped back down on his chair with a frustrated frown on his face.

"Are you okay?" Mali-Koa leant closer, gently touching his arm.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Then is it okay for me to go dancing?"

Calum looked up slightly confused. If he said there was something wrong, she would've said no to dancing and stayed with him? Love towards his sister warmed up his heart and he faked a perfectly happy smile on his face to reassure her.

"I'll be alright here, just have to relax a bit after eating," he shrugged.

Mali-Koa left the table joyously, leaving him alone to continue successfully pulling his plan off. He was determined to jump at any chance given when the girl sits back at their table, tired from all the dancing.

Calum had to wait for several more songs to end, several guys who got a chance to dance with her before his time had come. By the time she slumped down at her chair, he was halfway there.

"Jacob!" He exclaimed when he was in hearing distance. "Long time no see!"

The mentioned boy turned around, eyes widening at the sight of his old friend. He swiftly jumped up from his seated position, pulling him in a hug.

"Cal! How are you, man?"

"Fine, everything's going right. What's up with you?" Calum tried hard to fight the urge to glance at the girl more often than it was acceptable, but being so close to her made every simple, easy thing ten times harder.

"Everything's the same as it was the last time we met. Slowly but surely I'm lunging forward in the business," Jacob let out a laugh. "Music's really be working out for you, huh? Who would've thought back then?"

Calum laughed with him, nodding as he tried to come up with something to say that wouldn't sound self-centered or stupid but would describe how it all was in his life.

"Oh, so you're that Calum!" A new voice chirped in their conversation, and Cal's pulse rapidly quickened when he realised who spoke. It was the girl. He looked back at his friend for both explanation and introduction, and Jacob swiftly implemented.

"Cal, this is my friend from college, (y/n). And (y/n), yes, this is that Calum," he placed a friendly slap against Calum's back. "Calum Hood himself."

"Nice to meet you!" The girl, (y/n) stood up, reaching out to shake his hand.

"You too."

He was just about to open his mouth to say something else, he was indeed waiting for this moment the whole night, but in the background a new song started and a loud exclaim left Jacob.

"It's my go-to song! Sorry, pal, gotta leave you here now, I can't not dance to this!" And within less than a moment he was already in the middle of the dancefloor busting out his flawless dance moves.

Quite awkwardly Calum turned back, afraid that without his friend's presence (y/n) would search for other company, but the girl was still watching him with curious eyes.

"So you're the bassist of 5 Seconds Of Summer, right?" (y/n) asked.

"Yeah," he replied, waiting for her to continue.

"Not really my type of music, but I guess you're too famous to be bad."

A few moments of silence set between the two of them, Calum feeling a bit taken aback by the sudden and sharp honesty. It wasn't often anyone said something like this to him.

The next thing he knew was (y/n) bursting out in laughter.

"You should've seen your face," she spoke up half a minute of laughing later, grabbing at her sides. "To be totally honest with you, though, I truly don't listen to that kind of music you make, but I actually did listen to many of your songs and they're good. Just not what I would listen to on my own."

"Okay. Thanks, I guess," Calum smiled, moving his shoulders in a small shrug. "Do you mind if I sit down?"

"Please, feel free to do so," she pointed at Jacob's free chair.

"So you two met in college?"

"Yep. He was the roommate of my boyfriend at the time and we almost instantly bonded and became great friends."

"Oh, nice!"

"You think so?" (y/n) giggled. "Jacob can be a stubborn pain in the ass, maybe it would've been better without him in my life."

They both started laughing before the girl swiftly took it all back, claiming that it was only a joke and Jacob actually saved her from that terrible relationship. That actually gave Calum a subject to have a conversation with the girl about, and about fifteen minute later, with each a slice of cake in front of them on the table they were still talking, much to the boy's extreme inner happiness.

"Enough of me, you're the star. Tell me about how it is, living such a life," she eventually prompted.

"Ugh, okay," Cal nodded, but couldn't find the perfect words to say and stayed silent.

"Come on, it must be pretty exciting. Probably even the smallest details would leave me in awe. I live the simplest life ever."

He took a deep breath to calm his swiftly beating heart and let go of the thought that it was someone he already liked so much who asked him for description.

As soon as he started speaking, the words seemed to flow out from his mouth. The perfect thoughts came to his mind complemented with the perfect words, for him an unusual but incredible combination.

"Wanna dance?" He asked, noticing the girl casting numerous glances towards the dance floor.

"Actually, I was thinking about trying to escape from the building. I could really use some fresh air and quiet. What do you think, can we manage?"

Calum was surprised hearing her proposal, but leaving to an even more private place to continue their conversation seemed the greatest idea ever.

"We should give it a try," he grinned and stood up before in a moment of bravery he reached out to grab her hand. She showed no resistance just jumped up, grabbed her purse and followed him out of the room by the wall, behind everyone on the dancefloor.

"That was much easier than I thought," (y/n) giggled as she leant against the wall of the building, letting the coolness sweep through the thin material of her dress.

"Exactly," Cal nodded along. "I thought at least Jacob would notice but it seems like disappeared somewhere."

"Yeah, and actually I'm pretty glad you came up to him because if you haven't, now I'd be sitting all alone at our table."

"You're welcome."

"And you're not as bad of a company as I thought you to be," the girl admitted, making him stop pacing up and down in front of her he was doing nonstop ever since getting out of the wedding venue.

"You expected me to be bad company?" He frowned.

"I mean, yeah," (y/n) shrugged. "You're a world wide famous musician. You have every reason to be cocky."

"Okay, I see." Calum couldn't help but feel a bit hurt by her accusation, no matter how well he knew she was partially right.

"But you proved me wrong, and that's what matters," she continued, touching his arm sweetly.

They smiled at each other, a comfortable, nice feeling filling the air around them as if they were in their own little bubble, not bothered by the real world.

Though the next moment this bubble suddenly bursted when a wobbly figure exited the building, almost tripping in his own feet.

"(y/n), is that you?" Jacob asked, voice proving his slightly drunken state.

"Yep."

"And is your promise to take me home still on?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't it be?" (y/n) frowned as her friend got closer. "I didn't drink anything."

"Because of your company," Jacob chuckled with a smug look on his face.

"Oh, come on, Jacob," she sighed. "We're only talking."

"I know, I know," the boy put his hands up in defense before bursting out laughing once again. "But who knows where the night would end?"

"Shut up, just go get our things."

When their mutual friend disappeared inside once again, she turned back to Calum.

"So, I have to go now."

"Yeah," the young man nodded, feeling sadness pang in his chest.

"What, are you going to let me leave without asking the one question that was so obviously on the tip of your tongue the whole night?" (y/n) let out a laugh.

Calum felt his eyes widen by the girl's observation and he gulped before eventually speaking up, eyes casted to the ground to hide his embarrassment for being so evident.

"Wanna, like– I mean, if you're not busy... We could get lunch someday? Or even just coffee if you don't have a lot of time?"

"Sure, yeah."

"Really?" He looked up in surprise.

"Yes, dumbass. I enjoyed talking tonight, we should continue it sometime," (y/n) explained, pulling her phone out of her purse. "Here, give me your number so we could arrange the date and location."

Calum still felt stunned as his fingers almost instinctively typed in the numbers one by one before handing the devide back to the girl. She swiftly tapped away on it, and the next moment his phone beeped in his pocket.

"I sent a text so you have my number too."

They stared at each other's eyes in silence before (y/n) suddenly stepped closer and pressed a lingering kiss on his cheek. Cal subconsciously leant into her touch but before he could react any more properly, she was already halfway towards the door.

With one last wave and a glance above her shoulder she disappeared, leaving Calum standing frozen in the dark night. Slowly he managed to make himself take the first step and eventually set off to stroll inside the building, his fingers pulling out his phone to open her text and save her number.

Next time don't be so shy, rockstar, I'm not biting. Xx

.::the end::.

my masterlist

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denotday · 3 years

Text

Maybel Rhodes: Protectress

Itchy arms. My armbumps bumps take over life and chew my head off like a black mother. Even the sleeves of this sweater craddle these potholes as an english muffin craddles butter. But I'm more than my bumps and I'd make a quip on Fergie, but I'm no Joan Rivers. I'm small, meager. At eighteen, trying to find myself, live my own life. Typical teen drama, boring narrative, sob story. bored already. But know what isn't boring? I like strawberry shortcake and cheeseless pizzas. I have hopes of becoming a journalist and actually leading a career as moreof a Clark Kent than a Mary Jane or whatever the fuck that bitch's name is. Mary Anne? That used to be the name of one of my teachers. Going off; just thinking these thoughts while skateboarding to highschool.

Stay on the sides, away from cars, on the sidewalk, not too close to the white kids. White kids mean white mess, white messes mean cops who sweep the streets and take all the black kids with them in the process. I'm not a racist, just a black kid trying to stay alive in white america. Thank god I'm a weak bitch, one who cries for black men, one who doesn't face real issues like projected aggression. I'm a butterfly, something that men swat away and don't care about until MeToo movements. Gotta be careful but not too careful, kind but not too kind, firm but not a bitch, bitch but not a faggot. faggots suck.

No one thinks to ask these questions, here this thoughts. They see a black woman, better yet, a black female child. Worse thing to live in a ghetto. Sike; I say that I'm black and in a ghetto and get sob points. Fucking racist. I'm skating to one of those Fresh Prince schools. Didn't move on up, I'm simply moving; parents are mid class well grounded and guess what? My parents are still together. Probably breaking up soon but still breaking barriors of broke baby daddies and black slutty whore mothers who don't believe in abortion.

That's humor in of itself. A black kid skates into a white neighborhood with white sidewalks and doesn't have a nigger daddy and nigger mommy. What can be said by those PTA suburban soccer moms who want to demonise me and my own? Or am I palatable and a token black?

Making good grades, going to class on time. Only thing is, I don't have any friends to call. Even if I had one of those top quality iPhone 411s, I still wouldn't want to burden myself with filling up those high-techy contact lists. It's all bullshit after all, just capitalistic bilge. Something to fill the void without actually trying to let the public know that the void they're filling chalks up to capitalism. But again, those little tangents? "What does this have to do with having friends?" Everything. I don't give a shit, I accept shit. I tell things like it is, speak with lisps or change it up by sounding like an oxford professor.Not going to just abandon stream of consciousness 'cause class just started. This aint sims 4 and life ain't something that can be controlled; sped up or slowed down for the sake of an other's pleasure. I'm learning about shit that I'll never use like economics. That's shit that the government gives the state to teach, a little but not enough for highschoolers to overwhelm the system and decide "fuck student loans".

Not too bad here, though. Not all just "fuck hyschool" and teenaged angst. I go to the library, read books, go on my computer, listening to some Biggie and MFDoom and Tribe. Guess I am a nigger. Nigger-me and my nigger music. Even tththough it's they inspiration for they cracker music. Hate on us enough to keep us down but keep us up enough to steal from us. Today I'm reading some teen dystopian fantasy novel that I don't feel inclined to share with you guys. And no, it's not Hunger Games. It's Gunger Hames, the cousin of the franchise. Whoops just gave ya'll the name sorry. Either way I'm into that. Idea of a not-so-distant-future; humans making mistakes that fuck up the planet---disregarding that fact long enough so that the white main character can get it on with someone from the other side. Modern day Romeo and Juliett.

End of lunch, going back to class. It's back to back all day; boring teen shit that nobody cares about. Raising hands, answering questions, not understanding anything by the end of the day. Getting by is my motto. Long enough to get an A in the class and be on those ivy league watchlists. Even if I have to bust my ass to pay for student loans. Leaving highschool after all that non-work---no friends to lie to, no one to walk with, just me and my skateboard. These white paths not dirtied by brown except for my dirt body moving at the speed that a skateboard will go. Shift right here and there. Move away from rocks so that I don't fall headfirst. It's good shit. Here and there there are stone pebbles, blunts from---ironically enough--- the white kids and sharp object that I can't identify. FUCK. I don't have time to move around it and I can't just run offf. My leg'll get cut by it. Gotta just build up enough speed to roll over. Rolling...rolling...here it comes. Crouch down, focus, focus, pump speed anddddd....it stops my speed and loosens one of my bearings. Now I gotta walk the rest of the way back to my white little house with a white picket fence. Man screw--haha pun---this object. I have to use my 20/20 vision to find some small silver bolt that'll practically blend in with this bright ass sidewalk. Fuck white America.

In a little patch of weeds growing like black fists raising in the air I see the bolt and the responsible party for tossing me off the board. I raise my foot to crush this sonnofabiscuit like a bug so that some white kid's bike tire doesn't get licked---mind you this should be considered community service---and I figure that I won't ruin my rubber soles on the glass, so I'll just pick it up and toss it into the sewer. I put the bolt in my sweatpants pocket to keep it safe. I bend over again to peer at the crack in the sidewalk that I'll punt to the other side of the street where the other half of the street lives. It has tribal markings on it and must be, gasp, an ancient arcane ruin that'll give me superpowers. Kidding, you dumb bitch. "Why am I talking to myself this way? Jeez, some self-improvement classes would be nice". It's a bracelet made of some sort of beads. Kindof pretty but caked up with dirt and sand like no-one's business. I'm no Rocket Racoon so I just leave it. Even if I felt that it was interesting enough, I'd have to clean it off and disinfect it. It would just ruin the material underneath. Hm. Hm. Hm. Hm. Hm. Hm. Lemme stop; for real, in this white bread neighborhood, I might be able to get it appraised and pawn it off for some money or at the very least, see if it's worth keeping. I know; "this is the start of every horror movie", every tv show. I get it, but I'll cleanse the jewelry before wearing it. It's fine. It's fine. Hope it's fine. Jeez.

I put the bracelet in my other pocket away from the bolt and walk back home. The soles of my feet hit the white pavement and my feet move in the fashion of jubillee ferris wheels. Slowly rise in a circle, fall in perfect arch. Walking is divine poetry in of itself. Not too long now. A little further. Feels like the day is stretching. Still light outside and the summer-brink of fall--air is warming my rectum. "Oh god, what's with gays and their rectums". You know your g-spot is in your ass, men. It feels good for us too you know. Nice coolness for the butthole----rectum is for men, butthole is for women. I think. See? Not a Cliff Huxtable type; don't know everything. Not an Urkle. Conversations with myself like this are truly golden (ponyboy).

Fondle the silver piece, twist it in lock, get somewhere new. Novel design, simple concept. My rubber soles give me cat-walking abilities and I edge up the stairs. Hear shuffling downstairs in the kitchen. But the smell of musky forest wood with a hint of olive tells me that it's just my father. I'd announce my presence but this isn't a sitcom and I have a phone that I can use to text. Who talks nowadays?

On the table near the keyrack, I scoop into my pockets in search of the goods. The warm cotton touches the cool silver bolt. Set it aside to attach it to the skateboard later. "Why not now?" That'll be a problem for me to solve tomorrow. "Procrastination isn't good" Yeah I know. I've read the same 1990's health pamphlet that the health teachers give out. I hug my side to reach around for the other pocket. Same warmth, same feeling of comfort except...it's a new sensation. Hollow and porous. It's either bone carved into beads or plastic. Hope to...Well, not God, maybe I hope to goodness? Goodness? What am I? A preacher? Maybe that's why I like 16 year old boys. Anyway. It's too white over here for it to be bone. Unless it's some cracker who brought over some hoodoo shit and dropped it somewere. Great. Gonna burn some incense to cleanse it. Then gonna toss it somewhere so that it can't hurt anyone. Wait. It doesn't FEEL menacing. No darkness, no coldness, there's a comfort to be had. I don't see any visible engravings, no bite marks no arcane symbols. It may be safe. Just to be sure, I'm keeping it downstairs for it to curse someone else in the house. I rise up the stairs into the wide landing. Step, rise, step, rise, step, rise. Before I get to the top, I feel funny. Not sick funny or CURSED funny, but someone-is-in-my-presence funny. Strech my neck to look over my shoulder. Not too far to show interest but far enough to see what's going on---it's my dad handling the bracelet.

I whip my body around and I suppose this gives him a start.

"Hey, just got back from school. I'm pretty tired which is why I didn't want to talk. Found that bracelet in the sidewalk cracks before my skateboard broke. I wouldn't touch it if I were you. Don't know if it's cursed or not."

"Cursed? Bee, this is a genuine Sudanese artifact."

"Huh? When'd you turn into a archeologist? Or are you just nerding out about a 'special interest'"

"Har har. Nothing like that. This area used to be an auction town for slaves shipped from Sudan. Martinsville, Pennsylvania wasn't necessarily known for it's 'clean hands' you know. Gentrification made the area look nicer but its history is still pretty shit-covered."

"Ah, I remember now. I heard about this in history class" No I haven't. I don't even have history. Just want to stop talking to him about some dumb bracelet. "Can it sell for big bucks at a pawnshop?"

"I mean, sure if you'd like to get rid of it. Better to give it to the local museum though! It looks to me like it's made out of elephant tusks. Pretty well preserved too! The wearer must've been some warrior. They only wear these types of jewelry if they're the village's protectors. That's what I've read online anyway. You know how the interweb is though. Could be false."

"Oh wow. Ivory? That's a pretty dirty trade. Don't want to give something like that up to white people who continue to promote the trade. This'll just make the ivory market worse. I may keep it; I just wonder if it's cursed or something. I'll ask a local witchcraft practitioner to check it out tomorrow. Can I have thirty bucks for an appraisal along with an after-school snack?"

"Thirty? What're you going to buy? A salmon dinner with asparagus and steak? I'm not giving you Carabbas money. I can do 18. Enough for some street food."

"Not enough for the appraisal!"

"I'm sure the person will be able to work something out for you. You look twelve. You can play the 'Uwu I'm a baby who has no money, please help me out adult!' card. Or, how about this: pretend to be doing a research project for school on Sudanese slaves in the area. Just act like the school lent you the bracelet for the project"

"So lie?"

"I call it embellishment."

"I see"

I reached into his calloused palm and stole its contents, As a thief, I ran upstairs away from the site of the crime, away from the demons that lurked beneath the stairs. That's customary practice when going up stairs, right? To haul ass like there's no tomorrow like we're that black chick from Scary Movie? Sounds about right. I heaved and ho'd swinging my body back and forth up the stairs. Snaking my way into my room where I burrow for my after-school nap. That's what I tell my parents anyway. What I really do is blaze up in my room and turn on the fan. Gotta keep the smoke minimal. "Such a typical teen". Yeah, whatever. Like your generation wasn't popping ass and drinking bathtub wine when ya'll were young, Get outta here.

It's a good high. Kind where you'd listen to lofi and eat peanuts just for the fun of it. Another bong hit. Satisfying. I'm just leaning back on my sofa; it's firm and uncomfy but when I'm blazed, don't none of it matter. I could lose all of my words...give up....let....go.....

"...."

"What is this energy I'm feeling? So warm and electric. Is this love? Am I so sexually frustrated that I'm in love with a bong? Shit, I fuck with that. That's pretty words. 'I'm in love with my bong'. Such nice love. haha."

I'm hungry and it's four am. The weed has worn off. So tired man. Gotta go downstairs for some chips or something. Hungry to the max. Munchies munchies munchies for the weed monster. What a drug.

I creep down the stairs and up once more. My bare footpads cling to the hardwood and leave sweat prints in the shape of my stompers. During my ascent I leave crumbs. Have the house feeling like a Brother's Grimm story. I satisfy my snack desires as I prepare for school in the next hour.

Running water on my arms. Three passes of lotion on arms and legs. Can't be the ashy black kid that look like they an African living in a dirt house. Ain't able to help the rough patches that coat my body but I can help keep my skin moisturized.

A'ight. Got my fit got my board. Just have to screw the bolt back on and find the bracelet. Shit. Left it upstairs. I'm already late as hell. Rushing up the stairs. Search for the bracelet, find it, get out house. Objectives objectives. I spot it from afar and gravitating toward it, put it gingerly in my pocket. Kindof like someone would with a used tissue. Aren't humans gross? I mean, snot? Bacteria-filled snot? Nasty. Thoughts gone, make brain go from thinking to doing. descending now. Board in arm, door opens with the flick of the wrist and just like that, I'm outty. Deck on ground I put my best foot forward and ram it onto the hard cement to push myself forward. Sorry foot, betrayals sure do suck.

School begins, in class siting in a chair. All day, several hours. Ah, the beloved system at work. Great to know that there are adults who "work" all day by keeping kids seated in a chair. Very progressive, America. Library break? I think so. On my laptop, I pull out webpages on the pocketed---the word reminds me of 'closeted---bracelet. NOW I'm imagining a gay bracelet. hilarious. Great. Typing 'Gay Bracelet' into the search bar and am getting rainbow plastic bands. Ya know, the ones that they sell at Hot Topic during pride month.

"Damn, I'm getting sidetracked" She mutters to herself. Imagine if life were a story being told by some omnipotent force? omnipresent? Think that's the word.

With a bit of typing and a bit of focus. Swift movement of hunched fingers. All is complete, then some. Ogdle: "common of the Azande warriors were pieces to signify their status such as septum tusks, mouth disks, necklaces and other adornments. Bones and tusks were common materials of such articles."

Crazy how this history is hidden. Power was taken from us and buried so deep. We're the originals but every piece of history buried underground. Hidden, secretive Big Bad America. Tale fit for young people all over. Democracy, boo yah.

Train whistle blowing through the air. No train nearby, just the sound of a change in the block. I put it all away, sweep it into my bag. Everything is so messy, so fast. On schooldays like this, it feels hard to even take time to breathe. But I get by since the system wants me to. Think I'm going to skip. Not that the next two classes even matter in the long run. "Such a poor black baby, representing her race so poorly". Yeah yeah. Not the black chick that highschools would put on a recruiting card.

Just another push....door after door falling at my fingertips. The same once that touch the coarse sandpaper of my board. Foot on, foot off. kick once, twice, thrice, now we surf the cement. Now it's time to visit good the kind old black woman who practices witchcraft on dolls. That's what you'd think right? No, they're native and keep old customs within the community. Everyone calls them---agender--- Sage. Nonbinary native americans are actually more common than people think.

Before selling the bracelet to some old rich white drudge of society, I wanna be sure that the bracelet can be cleansed first. I mean. To give away black history to the white man? Hellll no with multiple "l's". It is a pretty long ride there, even on a board. Rumbly road. Pebbles everywhere. Thousands of little rocks acting as smaller wheels vying to fling me off. It's too much.

Mumbling of my own. "Where's gentrification when you need it?" Alright, yes I get it. It's a bad joke. Of course gentrification is bad. Blah blah. Time to pick up my skateboard I guess. Walking on this ground feels just as bad as suicide. Feaful of getting my ass flung into the afterlife. Few yards left....or at least fifty feet. Forty eight, forty five, forty-however-long.

Ended up reaching it after twenty minutes. This trip better be worth it.

"Hi there, Miss Sage. Mind checking out this bracelet for me? I need to check it for a curse or evil energy. My cheap father didn't give me enough for a full appraisal but what can you do with nine dollars?"

"For nine? Not much, doll? What was your name again? You look young, do you have an adult's approval for this?"

"Oh, right. You've got me. It's for a school project. School each student a historical object to research. I figured you'd be able to help me get an 'A' on the project, you know?"

"Your manners are lacking but you seem young, so I'll let you pass. Allow me to take a look at it, if you please?"

God. Full-fledged adults really are something else. I'm only eighteen, not eight. Guess I look younger than I am----

Sage starts burning this wood that's tied with string. Incense maybe?

"That incense?"

"It's a closed practice really, so I don't want to expose anything. But it is a form of incense that I prefer to use to cleanse the spirit of objects and areas."

"Ah, didn't mean to intrude. I'm glad that there are still practices that you keep to yourself. Nothing like the White Man stripping us of our culture."

I got a soft chuckle out of them. Glad that they're able to lighten up a bit.

"..."

"OK, so here's what I've found. There's immense energy here; the power coming off of this thing is tremendous. There's nothing negative about this piece. How'd you ever come across it, again? School, you said? Shame that you'll have to give it back. Something like this would provide a large power surge to spirituals. I'd pay a pretty penny for this."

"Mhm"

"Wonder how the school even came across this. I tell you what. Ask your school where I can find something like this and perhaps I'll give you a little something for your intel, huh?"

"Oh. Sure. I'll just--uh---"

"Right, right, right. The bracelet, I'm sorry. Really, it's more an anklet truly, but--ya know what? I'm sorry. Here ya go"

"...take it from ya. Thanks."

"No problem. Come back with more info on the anklet. That'll be your payment for my time"

Got 'caught in a lie it seems. Don't know how I'll snake my way out of this one.

"Brrrrrzzzzz"

Shit, it's five. My dad's probably looking for me.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter two:

" You skipped class? Bee, I know that you're better than this."

God moms bitch too much. Must be the nursing job coupled with her daily acting gigs that make her so aggro.

"I hear ya, mom. I just had some research to conduct after school..."

"Research? Which kind---?"

"The school kind. I don't know what else you want me to say. I'm sorry for skipping lasses. I got too overzealous and went in over my head. It won't happen again."

"Tskk. Better not. I know that I'm gone almost every hour of the day, but please give me a break, baby. Please just listen to your father and follow the rules. All I ask."

"Mhm, even though he-----you know what, nevermind. Am I dismissed? I have to write up today's school report to type"

Phew. Gonna hit the bong now to calm down from this encounter.

Fuck homework. .... ..... Mhm.

Five minutes passs. Fifteen, twenty. Maybe not minutes. hours? seconds? Time is too funny. With LEDs on, the vibe is fatallll. Still have to open a window to let out the smoke but gosh is this magical.

Mhm magic. Does it even exist? Doubt it. It's all science, right? ....

.....

Right. Like, this anklet. Not real power. Not real magic. Just something people believe in. Like God. It's all faith.

"So, theoretically, I could even put it on my person and nothing would even happen"

"And, so it begins"

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT VOICE" and why am I screaming?

Get off, get off, get off! Something's dripping on me.

"Tears, they're tears"

Oh god, I fucked up. I knew that I shouldn't have smoked that much. Knew it'd bite me in the ass one day. Now I'm fear-crying. I NEVER FEAR CRY.

It's all a dream maybe. Go to sleep, Bee. Just take a weed nap.

"Ba ba bang"

A booming voice raspy from coffee withdrawal.

"Everything OK in there Bee? You're about to be late for school."

Shit!

No time for conversation. Move it move it move it.

"'Cmon Bee. I'll drop you off at school on my way to the college".

Bookbag? Check. Board? Check.

I feel the rush of air against my cheeks as I fly out the door and jump into the getaway car. Fast, but atleast I'm not Furious. Dad and I chat it up all the way until the tires cross the smooth pavement of school grounds. Departing words are exchanged along with "I love you's" and "knock 'em deads".

That familiar sound. Principal as the school conductor. "Chooo". Just as it drones, my body moves to the steps of teens dragging their feet toward their dreaded first classes of the day. The light of morning cradles the marble arches of the school entrance until the sun starts to suck in the morning cold to blow out midday warmth.

"So, who are you, voice? What's your angle? Typing ensues. The screen watches my fleeting pupils; left, right, side, side. Wouldn't be surprised if the computer got whiplash from me. One scroll, two, three. Read a page. Nothing. Another website. Up and down; my fingers are cramped now. Nada. New Oogdle search: "Can I hear voices with weed smoking." Now I have a hit; "yes weed can have you seeing voices. Many aren't even your own. Maybe lay off the TV for a while."

"Thanks 'BouncyNina29'. Quora is one hell of a place." Guess it must've just been the drugs then. Hilarious, me hearing some voice. "Gotta lay off the bong smoking".

"Shhh!!" Some nerd in a striped beanie raised a finger to pursed lips.

Sorry, sorry....Jeez. "My bad" You know what? Maybe I can visit----

the train whistle interrupts my 11pm "ball" with myself. "Dammit". OK. Maybe I can bribe one of the delinquents behind the school to take my place in English. Teacher's not there anyway; the sub won't know the difference. Time to go pay someone off.

"..."

"Here ya go, five dollars."

"A'ight and you said what room that English class in?"

"301 B man. It's at the end of the third floor, right wing. Hard to miss and---remember---my name is Maybel Rhodes. Just fake like you're doing some work and no one will even notice that you're not me. I'm a loner, so, that'll work."

"Mhm hmm. I hear ya Maple"

"MayBEL"

"Yeah, that's what I said"

Scoff. In a smooth curvular motion, I plant my feet on the board and race to Sage's before their store closes.

As I approach, they're putting a silver key in a lock. Gah! The store closed.

"Miss Sage---"

"Gah! Don't do that!! Scaring me and sh--I mean, 'crap'. Scaring me and crap. Look kid, I'm closed right now but we open tomorrow. By then, I'll have the energy to discuss your school's anklet with you. Actually, about that. Do you have intel on where the-----"

"Yes, yes. About that, see...I lied. I didn't really get it from the school. I found it on the ground somewhere."

"'Found it on the ground somewhere' is code for 'I don't have money to pay nor do I have anything else to provide'? Am I getting warmer?"

"Look Miss Sage, I'm really sorry. Hey---look at it this way. I'm in debt to you. If you'll just help me with one teensy little thing, I'll ask my dad for some food money and will give you every cent he gives, alright?"

"Kid, that's not how an adult runs a business. Call what I gave you yesterday a 'freebie'. You're banned from the store. Good night."

Wait. "Wait" Their stride is aimed toward their silver camry. Yeah, I know a camry. Did you expect them to be riding a horse? Racist. Sage acts as though they don't hear and gets into their seat, key in ignition. One twist away before exiting the rocky parking area.

"IT SPOKE TO ME" Yup. That is how I yelled it. All caps, woke some birds up even. Just like in those Loony Toon cartoons. Is that why they're called "Loony Toons" 'cause they're loony cart----

Now they exit their car, slamming the heavy metal door. "What did you say? It...SPOKE...to you? What do you mean 'it'?"

Mhm Mhm. Just prepping my throat. "I wore it on my ankle and I heard a voice that has never existed before in the chasms----"

"Stop the theatrics"

"....Chasms of my mind. It was a male. Around your age in old-timey-ness."

"Har har."

"But it's the truth!" Why won't they believe a magical voice but insist that sage, a random plant, purifies the air?

Their chest contracts and expands in a sigh. Sage closes their eyes for a second. I could practically smell the gears turning. Need some WD-40, really. "Fine. Come by the store Saturday. That way, no one will be in to eavesdrop."

"Deal!"

"And bring actual MULA this time or else we won't have our little discussion". Crud.

"...."

"What are you thinking Sage?" No response. I paid one hundred fifty dollars for this after BEGGING both my folks (who think I'm using it to enroll in some after school sport) to slide me some cash so that I can 'better myself as an individual and actually do something with my time as well'. Lies are no good.

"Shh! Let me think, please!" Sage subverts their attention from me back onto the tarot cards laid in front of them----exactly where the bone anklet (bonklet) lay in silence

Ten minutes pass before Sage gives me the break down. "So, as I've said before. The anklet carries some heavy energy, something similar to passion and justice. Very potent stuff. That's what the spirit realm is saying, anyway. When you were---ahem--- HIGH----"

At this point I look away

"...You honed into that energy and that's why you heard the voice"

"Hm. So, how do I hone in on that energy now? Is it something I can control conscious?"

"Look, I dunno kid. Just, be safe. Meditate beforehand so that you are actually able to chime into the anklet's power source. Don't want to darken the talisman's power or anything."

"Sure, sure" I am literally out the door before Sage utters the second part of their sentence. I buzz with excitement at the opportunity and the best part is? I'm basically a super! Hoo ho. This is awesome.

There's an empty industrial facility near by Hawesome Li Cosmetics. It went bankrupt several decads ago. I'm pretty much the only one who knows about the place. Excellent ground to skate on---smooth as butter. Either way, it's empty and no harm will come to anything or anyone nearby. Any damage that I do will be to the building nearby, which no one cares about anyway. "So, it's just me and you buddy." Blunt in hand, I blaze it up. "Time for the magic to happen."

It's a slow high. The high takes as long as a flame reaching the wooden stick of an incense rod for the high to hit. Upwards of thirty minutes. So I wait. It feels like time warps. So I meditate. So I clear my thinking and reach out to the anklet.

"Mhm, Anklet, tell me who you are?"

"What?? You can hear me?"

"Yeah man. Who are you, why you speaking to me?"

"Why would I tell you? I don't even know yer name"

Tiring. It's like talking to a wall.

"Hey, I heard that!"

"Maybel. My name's Maybel. What's yours? Let's start there."

"Nat."

"Like Nat Turner? The rebel slave?"

"Don't know who that is, this 'Nat Turner'. Just knew my master gave me the name." How progressive. "So...I suspect that I'm dead."

It's not easy news. I get it. But hey, the north won. That's something, right?

"Well, I guess it is....you know, I had a name before all of this...."

"......"

"......??"

"......."

So, are you going to tell me?

"You may call me 'Asim'."

"I'll call you Ase."

Don't call me 'Ase'. Too late, Ase. Hey, how old are you anyway? 12? 11? My name is ASIM, nothing else. Fine, grumpy. ASIM. I'll call you Asim, Asim. Where'd that name come from anyway? What does it mean?

"Let's find out, shall we?"

"...It feels electric! (Boogy woogy woogy). Such power, this wade in...glory."

Are you a God?

"Blasphemy!" Then what are you? How are you able to lay such energy unto me?

Look, I don't know either, alright? But what I do know is...we're both negr---

Black. We don't say that word anymore.

"Black, then... Perhaps I'm connected with you due to our shared skin?" We stopped being related millenia ago. Millenia? Not familar with that word.

"Long, long ago. We don't share any common ancestors. It was all a lie." A lie? You don't believe in a God? I'm moreso spiritual; creation is a possibility not something I'm invested in. I believe in forces of the universe. "But not a God? So, this can't be some spiritual connection. We're too different." So perhaps a soul connection? A link between our spirits.... What else do we have in common? A slave and a black kid?

"Hatred of the white man? Wanting justice against them?"

"War. Destruction"

"Yes."

"No, I don't want that. I'd prefer peace." There may be no PEACE without WAR.

"A lie. Violence is not the answer. Kindness is."

"'Kindness' doesn't resolve problems. 'Kindness' doesn't end racism. 'KINDNESS' was the one that slept at my feet while I was lashed! "

"..."

Asim?

"..."

Andddd you're gone. Great. Well, I'm going to head back home, then. We can hang out again tomorrow. "Head back" means leave. All right, see you.

#fiction #original story #writer #writing #tumblr #writers on tumblr #BLM #Politics #Teenagedom #Teen angst #superhero #comicbook writing

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lilolilyr · 3 years

Text

Fics I Wanted To Write This Year But Didn't, Part 2: Star Trek AU

For @spookyvoidangelskeleton for this ask

Now I suppose these would have been several fics, but in a series or a collection as they're all about the same main storyline: The collapsing of a (or several) universe(s).

If you've known me for a while, you know that I am very into Multiverse Theory, both real life and fictional, and Star Trek with the Mirror Universe is of course one of the first fandoms that comes to mind for me to write my batshit ideas in xD

Basically, in my personal little (fictional, bc I know and understand 0 about real life physics or whatever would be relevant for this) multiverse theory, there are an infinite number of universes, evenly spread around the multiverse, and a new universe comes into existence when a timeline/universe (same thing) can go into 2 seperate ways naturally, or when there is timetravel involved to manually change a timeline: The original timeline won't be affected, you can't change what's already there, but a new changed timeline will be created.

Now, in some cases that works out well, with the timetraveller ending up in the new timeline and never knowing that their original universe is still out there- in other ways of time travelling, not so much. If the person trying to make a change manages to do just that but never notices, because they or a version of them is stuck in the orginal timeline, what do they do?

Try again, with the same result, many many times.

And that's where it gets problematic, because the multiverse gets unbalanced, and whether you see it as a sentient entity connected to the Qs in Star Trek or just as something that Works That Way automatically: the multiverse doesn't want to be out of balance, so the new universes start to collapse in on each other, creating a Splitter-verse and leaving its inhabitants to a fate arguably worse than death (in this fictional world): they completely stop to exist. This doesn't just affect the new universes but the surroundings ones, which would have split earlier and are already more different from each other, too, to make sure the one that was the cause for it all falls, too.

Now (of course, because I can't help myself) this would be part of @thelucyverse , with there being Central people trained in spotting such time anomalies before it is too late, but with there also being time-bombs (yeah hahah) created in inter-universal wars to create smaller, controlled splitter-verses (I say small and controlled here but like. We're still talking about entire universes), and with Central having back-up plans to get people out of the 'verses, in order as follows: anyone visibly IDing as Central (the organisation is still largely volunteer-based, shit's got to have some perks), then everyone whose energy indicates recent travel in-between universes, as these are also most likely to a) be Central and b) be okay in a new 'verse, after that, if there is still time and anyone willing to go back into the falling universe, children as they are also more likely to adapt in a new world. If there is enough warning, they also get out whoever people Central members want to have saved, but usually it just turns into whoever stands close enough to grab and get the hell out of there.

Whether taking people out of a universe against their will is a good thing or nah is ...debatable and still being debated amongst those who do it and those who think that taking someone away from the possibility of dying death in their own universe is vile (as amongst most religions, it is thought that you can only reach the same afterlife as those who died in the same umiverse- but again most also think that there probably won't even Be an afterlife in a splitter-verse).

Sometimes, people are also pushed out of the universe by the explosion itself, but they then tend to die upon impact as they seldomly end up exactly at the coordinates where they left, which leaves them either suffocating in hard matter or in space.

If you want to use these ideas for your own fanfic feel free, just give me credit and link this post as inspired by/ link to my ao3 or @ my tumblr!

Anyhow! To Star Trek... and I suppose this is now SPOILERS not rly for any Star Trek canon but for these fanfics, if I do end up writing them!

I tend to forget which characters are canon and which are complete OCs because I spend Way more hours on tumblr and ao3 + thinking about my own headcanons than I spend consuming the original media, but I am fairly certain a canon Joana McCoy, daughter of Leonard 'Bones' McCoy exists? If no and I stole the idea from sb else's fanfic I am sincerely sorry. Gotta look that up.

In one universe close to what would be the centre of the splitterverse, Joana- as a young child nicknamed 'Jojo', but now as a young teen trying to get rid of the childish nickname- has a younger part-vulcan girl as a friend, and this girl, nicknamed Aka, has, through having sticky fingers and connections to Central, a device that allows you to jump between universes. She's used it before and gotten into a lot of trouble for it, but to her it had always been great fun- until reality is starting to collapse around them while she is visiting Joana, and Joana is the only person she can reach in time and take with her to the next universe.

Distraught, the children are left in a new world, debating what to do, waiting for Central to contact them, hoping that they saved their families- but of course, Central has quite some different problems right now and won't contact them any time soon, and even if they did it wouldn't be with news of their parents: the adult families of non-Central members who only happened to have jumped between universes before themselves are really not the top priority, and the universe is collapsing too quickly to even get down the prio list to 'children',

Aka wants to leave the universe again and look for Central elsewhere, hoping that her moving around will attract their attention. Joana has enough from universe jumps for a lifetime. Thus, they part ways.

While Aka at some point does run into a group of Central troubeshooters who more or less adopt her as one of their own and teach her how to work their equipment and use magic and weapons and starships (not what a child her age should be learning. But then, none of the adults there ever signed up to be a parent, so who's to blame them), Joana goes looking for her family in this world.

Now I could write entire novels about Akas adventures and how it may or may not be healthy to not have a home at all and decide to not rely on anybody instead of either finding new versions of her original parents or letting someone new into her life properly (spoileralert: it isn't healthy at all), and how meeting a girl from one of the original splitter-verses (the not bombed ones) telling her not to make the same mistakes she made finally makes her think about her choices and and and, but this post is already going to be Long so I won't. That would all be a seperate fanfic anyways.

Joana finds a girl her age who looks just like her and acts almost exactly like her, too- the only difference seems to be that there's no Aka around, which made this version of her less used to adventure but also less wary of it.

The version of Joana from this universe- she decides to call herself Joan when they are alone, while the Joana we already know goes with 'Jojo'- her once loathed childhood nickname now a connection to her past- is thrilled to meet her and begs her to stay, I mean what is cooler than suddenly having a twin, and won't it be fun there is so much they can do! As their parents are seperated, they manage to spend their time mostly at one of their homes, either together when the parent is too busy to notice that there are two kids around, or one at each place, guessing correctly that if the parents were to talk about it, they wouldn't even think of the possibility of there being two children and instead just get mad at each other.

This goes on for a few months during the summer, with Jojo feeling vaguely guilty both to her original dead parents and these new ones who think that she is their real daughter, and the girls are just deciding about what to do when school starts again when-

Reality breaks apart around them.

Jojo clings to Joan in fear, and- as Jojo is now on the list of people who have travelled between universes in the past, she is saved by Central, and Joan with her. They are placed into a universe further away this time, a safe distance to the only slowly contained Splitters.

Meanwhile, in the same universe, two people were currently out on a space-walk: Michael Burnham and Philippa Georgiou.

They are thrown out of the universe in the explosion, and as they are wearing their suits, they survive as they end up somewhere in space again, but- they don't end up in the same universe. Michael ends up about 20-30 years earlier in a universe further away, and she doesn't even end up in what would've been federation space in her old 'verse. Philippa is only thrown one universe to the left and picked up by Central. As Central likes to name their acquaintances in some way that makes it easier to identify just which version of a person you are talking to without having to add the long universe number (even harder when the universe was destroyed and there isn't a known number), they ask Philippa to pick a new name. She is way too rattled and desperate to go looking for Michael as quickly as possible to care about what name she is supposed to have, so she goes with the first option given to those who don't have their own nickname ideas: lastname for firstname, making her Georgiana, short Gia.

Through Central, she finds out that the universal explosion left her and Michael connected- but it won't be much help in the search, basically just a way to say 'alright this verse is closer to it than that one', it's still trial and error... (I could also involve some body switching here, idk I already wrote a long fanfic with that trope in the Andromaquynh fandom, but I happen to Like that trope so yeah maybe I'll recycle some parts of In Your Stead if I ever do manage to write this Milippa story. Which, btw, if not already obvious, would again be a seperate fic from the Joana universal-sister story. On the other hand, Aka runs into Georgiana a lot, even calling her 'auntie Gia').

Meanwhile, Michael doesn't have to jump through universes but make her way through just the one universe to get to federarion space. Except what she find's isn't the federation at all... you guessed it, the 'verse she ended up in is more similar to a mirrorverse than to Prime. However, the Georgiou of this world isn't the emperor yet, she's young and Michael is able to influence her enough over the years so that she turns her back to the Empire.

Yes, it takes years for Michael and Gia to find their way back to each other, maybe decades... they also wouldn't have spent exactly the same amount of time apart as they aren't in the same 'verse. In fact, Cleo of Central carefully tells Gia that Michael might have died by now, but of course Georgiana doesn't want to hear this.

Michael and that universe's Georgiou also get quite close, though Michael doesn't want to cheat on her Philippa... of course, after years of this, she might think that she will never see Philippa again... (We are approaching ot3 territory here lol, and I don't even want to think about the potential of ot7 with the two canon mirror and prime versions adsfghjkl because if I finish this story here, I would 100% write a lil fix it where Central! Gia Mikay and Phil go fish Mirror! Michael and Georgiou out of a splitter-verse into the next prime verse in which Michael already knows that Georgiou... and ad they're already at it they also get half dead! Prime Philippa away from the Klingons... heheh sounds like the kind of poly chaos I would enjoy writing, but sadly I have to make it through all the Plot first)

Anyway! Back to Jojo and Joan: they decide that while they maybe should have told Joan's family about Jojo's existence soon if they had stayed in that 'verse, the initial idea of staying with one's universals wasn't so bad, so they go looking for this universe's Joana McCoy. The girl- (nicknamed Anna, which makes Joan decide to change hers from Joan to June because she doesn't want to be half Jojo and half Anna), is happy enough to meet them, but often feels left out from the other two as they act as if they've known each other forever even though of course it's only been a few months... In turn, Jojo and June aren't sure whether Anna really wants them around, whether she might think they're trying to steal her life and family from her...

Lots of potential for conflict! Yay! XD would of course come to a happy ending, with at least Bones accepting his three daughters, dunno yet whether they'd tell the mom... also Aka ends up in the same universe at some point, together with a version of her vulcan birthmother who she had never known the original version of but now gets along with alright... oh and if I do write aforementioned Milippa ot7 bullshitery, this would also be the Prime!verse for that, so all stories in the series or collection interconnect again!

this got... long... and I could obviously go on but I need to go back to writing my Bachelor thesis :(

@whoever read through all of this, do let me know whether you like these ideas and which you would like to read proper fanfic for! Might influence future writing decisions.

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bellamyblake · 4 years

Note

Hi! I was thinking about Bell escaping, but he's injured. Something happened when they probed his brain, and now he can't stop hallucinating things. Eventually his mind settles on Clarke. And she insists that he needs to survive. He's close to the anomaly when he collapses. and he hears her voice again. He begs the hallucination to let him die. But this time it's really Clarke who gets to him. She sits with his head in her lap, brushing his hair back and calling for the others.

Oh MAN, DO YOU GOTTA BREAK MY MOFO HURT/COMFORT HEART LIKE THAT??? But I can totally see that! You probably didn’t want anything written but I got inspired so-

After torturing him for days (or was it weeks?), he finally finds a way to get free of his restraints.

He has kept notice of when the masked doctor comes in to inject him with the serum and decides that he has to be smart about this, so he never tries anything the first few times but he knows he has to be fast.

They usually untied him for a brief moment to take care of the lacerations on his wrists that bled constantly even through the bandages because he never stopped fighting.

They got so bad, he sliced through his skin that one time, slashed the veins on his right wrist and bled for a few hours before they noticed the red puddle on the floor.

That’s when the idea came to him-he could do this again, he could pretend to be weak and wounded from the loss of blood, from the tortures, the constant nightmares or dream-like illusions they projected in his mind and then he’d attack.

It’s exactly what he did.

He almost felt bad because they send this poor younger doctor to deal with him that night, after getting probably too sick and tired of his struggling and needing a rest.

It’s easy enough for him to punch the boy in the face, then easily release his other hand and sit up.

He hadn’t estimated the simple fact that he’d spent weeks in that damn chair, he had lost weight because he refused to eat, he was dizzy from the blood loss and the world spun so fast before his eyes when he tried to stand that he staggered.

And that had been his great mistake because the young doctor wasn’t, couldn’t be as innocent as he looked.

Clarke would’ve laughed at him for being so stupid but he doesn’t have time to think about that because before he knows what he’s doing, the doctor has a gun pointed at him and he shoots.

He gets him somewhere on his right side, just below his heart, right under the place Clarke so tenderly covered once all those years ago with her small sweaty palm, telling him to use his heart and his head.

He tackles the doctor and pushes him off his way, though. Somehow he has the strength for that because he’s mad and tired and he just wants to get the fuck away from here.

The door is surprisingly unlocked and he makes it down a narrow white hallway. His hand wraps around his side and he feels the blood seep through.

Good.

He deserved it.

He’s always known he deserves to die, ever since O was discovered and he had to watch his mom being floated. He just...knew. That was the moment it all went wrong for him, that was the moment he started losing his family.

Until he found it again.

He never thought he would, least of all in a beautiful blond princess with fierce blue eyes who fought for his life in more ways than he’s ever had, who saw him for a person and not an attribute to something or someone else.

He wasn’t just a brother or a son for her.

He was Bellamy.

An entity of his own.

A shoulder not just to lean on but to fight alongside with. A friend.

And then maybe something more.

Something he’d never get to tell her now because he knows the bullet’s still stuck inside, he’s had enough injuries to last a lifetime to know when he’s doomed and he can feel it shift inside him, bury deeper in that wrecked cursed body that stumbled down the narrow hallway to a door, and then another, a turn to the left, then-the right.

He had no idea what was happening, where he was even going but he just pushed through-there had to be a way out, an exit.

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment she appeared before his eyes. She was a constant sight this days because the people who tortured him figured out almost right away that she was the key to him.

Conjure her image enough times and he’d start getting delusional, maybe talk even though he wouldn’t want to, even though he’d fight not to, though his lips never uttered more than simply her name and a few “Come back”s even though he was the one who left her now.

And then again before when she burned like a candle in the midst of a firestorm.

He left her then.

He let himself be taken now too.

Somehow he stumbles outside.

The fresh air is so strong it hits him harder than the bullet.

This planet’s angry, as angry as he had once been back when they first landed-pure raw untamed anger that could only be quieted down to a slow murmur of his fast beating heart by a beautiful blond haired stubborn princess.

He knows he leaves a trail of blood behind him for them to follow, he can see it even now as it drips on the leaves crumpled in ugly brown forms, almost turning to dust to get scattered by the wind like he’d be soon enough.

The thought makes him smile-he could be free soon.

The pain, the misery, the constant beating up and nightmares, the dull throbbing of his heart that has now slowed down because of the blood loss, it’d all be gone and he’d be free, floating around in this universe, maybe up among the stars just like his mom’s body did when she was floated.

He wondered now if it hurt her. When he was a guard he’d use to hear stories from the other cadets about what it was like getting floated in space, how the oxygen leaves your lungs and you float through a big vast nothingness, eyes rolling to the back of your head, your brain exploding from the lack of gravity.

It seemed scary for him then.

Now he asked himself if it was less painless than getting shot in the side and slowly bleeding out.

Then again he shouldn’t complain.

He deserves the pain. He always had.

When his eyes spot something green with his periphery vision he feels his heart pick up again and he gasps when he looks straight ahead because it is the Anomaly and he knows...he knows he’ll get his one last wish come true.

He’ll see her.

That’s what keeps him walking even though he feels himself gradually getting weaker, his feet stumbling, tripping over but somehow, despite it all, he keeps pushing.

And then there she is right before him, half smiling, half serious. Her hair’s short again and she’s dressed in the ugly green suits they used back before Praimyfaya.

He smiles and reaches out to touch her.

“Clarke-” his voice breaks and just then does his body finally decide to give up on him. He trips over and falls to his knees but he tries to keep his head looking straight up at her.

The hallucination’s fast, faster than in any of his nightmares or hallucinations.

“Bellamy!” there’s something in her voice...it’s too broken too real but he knows it can’t be so he just smiles and let’s her kneel before him and grab his bloody hand.

“You’re here!” he whispers, barely keeping himself awake. “You’re here...”

“Of course I’m here! I’m so sorry it took me so long to find you!” she apologizes and he feels himself slump forward to her, thinking how he’d probably crash in the ground because she’s not real, except he doesn’t.

He ends up in her warm and strong embrace and he lets himself be held.

“Bellamy, you’re hurt-” small hands pepper all over him and she quickly finds his wound. It feels real when her small cold fingers wrap over his and color with blood. He looks down just to see how the red liquid tries to make it’s way through their fingers.

And it does.

Death always found a way. It was unforgiving, it was inevitable.

“What happened to you? What did they do?” she demands but he simply shakes his head and let’s himself fall further in her arms.

His body slumps forward and she carefully wraps an arm around his back and pushes him to her chest, voice growing significantly more panicked.

He closes his eyes for a moment, hears other voices too of people he’s never seen in his mind before-Raven...was that Miller too? They mix with hers and he lets himself drown in them for a short moment.

There’s panic, shuffling, fear-it almost feels like an honest to god perfect hallucination but he doesn’t understand how the warmth of her hand over his chest is so real, how he can hear the beating of her heart with his head pressed to her chest like that, how her ragged worried breath can fan his face.

“We need bandages! I have to wrap this up, he’s bled too much!”

“It’s okay...” he mumbles opening up his eyes and looking at Clarke’s hallucination.

She seems too...real, there’s not that tinge of white light that usually surrounds her like a halo as it was before in the light room. She’s all too perfect...too her-her cheeks are flushed red, her eyes are piercing angry blue like an ocean he’d love to drown in, her hair is a mess that moves like a hurricane with her every order.

“It’s okay, this is good. You don’t have to fight...I’m okay.” he mumbles and feels blood filling his mouth. She looks down at him, eyes filling with tears falling down her cheeks and ending up on his face.

That is his first cue that something’s wrong...because he can feel it.

He can feel her pain as much as he can feel his own.

“It’s good, you can let me go..” he adds and lets his hand fall from his wound.

“NO!” she screams and it’s gutteral, it’s horrifying, making him wince. “NO! You’re not dying, Bellamy!”

He closes his eyes for a brief moment then and thinks this over-he can feel her fingers wrapped tightly around his arm, holding him half up, he can tell the places her tears burned down his skin like acid rain, he can tell how stubbornly she is covering the bullet wound,but most of all-

He can hear her.

His Clarke.

It was her voice. It must be her voice, right?

He opens up his eyes again and reaches to cup her cheek, leaving a bloody strain on her cheek, cursing himself internally.

“Clarke?” he asks breathlessly “Is it really you?” she nods, letting her tears go as she bows her head down to his chest and soaking his shirt.

“You’ll be okay.” she promises when she looks at him again, his hand falls from her face, feeling too heavy, too tired and he smiles. “You’ll be fine.”

He doesn’t say anything, refuses to cause her any more pain than he already is-if this is real and...he knows now that it is, he just needs her, nothing else.

It takes him everything to make his hand move again only to wrap around hers that’s covering his wound. He gently picks it up and puts it on his cheek. She cries out once more and lets her head fall closer to his face, her hair shielding them from the rest of the world, her nose brushing against his.

“Just-” he speaks up but he coughs blood and a few of the drops land on her face, he feels it tickle down his chin and she stubbornly wipes it off with her sleeve “Just hold me.”

“Don’t go!” she begs “Please, don’t go! You can’t-”

“It’s fine.”

“IT’S NOT! Stop saying that!” she bursts out and he smiles as he feels her hand move to his hair, roaming through his curls, leaving a trail of red from his own blood. “You’re not leaving me again, you hear me?”

He just leans his head closer to her heart, letting the beat lull him, calm him down.

“Do you hear me, Bellamy? You fight for me,okay?”

“Okay” he says but it comes out resigned, slow, almost way too broken and desperate. “Alright, princess.” he doesn’t open his eyes again as much as he wants to but he does feel her fingers move to brush his tears and her hand ending up on his wound again, trying to stop the blood from spilling even more out of his body.

He hears her bark orders, ask for help, bandages, but he feels his body arch with the pain and he commands himself not to yell so he doesn’t scare her anymore.

Instead he flails his poor shaky hand in the air, looking for hers.

He doesn’t expect her to catch him. After all, maybe this was still a hallucination, maybe it was yet another evil dream fabricated by the people of Bardo.

And then he feels cold bony fingers wrap around his.

He smiles to himself.

Even if he dies, he knows he’ll be okay.

He was home.

#bellarke fanfiction #bellarke #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #hurt/comfort #season 7 #canon divergent fic #elora-lane #answered #sorry idk if you wanted me to write anything LOL #i just ended up doing so #it totally sucks and i am so sorry #god i need to stop trying this writing thing #im so horrible at it

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mindingmyownbusiness · 4 years

Text

Rescue (4/?)

Pairing - Bucky x Reader Soulmate AU Summary - You’ve always believed your soulmate was out there somewhere, Bucky not so much. What happens when he finally takes a leap of faith and reaches out to you? Warnings - some canon-typical violence in later chapters, the occasional curse word, but I promise to make up for it with loads of fluffiness Chapter Word Count - 1757 Notes - I’m hoping to post new chapters about once a week on Saturday nights so wish me luck (and any encouragement you can offer is always welcome!). Inspired by Rescue by Lauren Daigle and by a lot of the concepts in Sense8.

Series Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

His POV

Bucky Barnes had been through a lot in his life but nothing from his past seemed quite as terrifying as the silence he was experiencing at the current moment. It was as if a switch had been flipped, nothing but radio silence. A thousand thoughts were screaming at him as he paced back and forth in his room, his heart rate and panic skyrocketing. Is she okay? Is she hurt? What if someone attacked her, hurt her? Bucky didn’t know what was happening with his newly discovered soulmate and it was completely debilitating. He felt useless, helpless… he didn’t even know her name, where she was, had no way of knowing if she was hurt or worse… “This was a horrible idea, I don’t know why I ever listened to Sam in the first place.” Resisting the urge to punch the wall he slumped to the floor, head in his hands.

Your POV

What the hell just happened…? You grimaced as you moved to sit up, gingerly touching the throbbing lump on the back of your head that unfortunately was becoming more painful by the second. Leaning back carefully against the wall you closed your eyes and took some slow, deep breaths, trying to get the room to stop spinning so you could figure out why you just woke up on the floor surrounded by cocoa splatters and the broken remnants of your favorite mug. I remember taking the brownies out, fixing my drink, looking out the window and talking to my soulmate like I always do, and then… It was like time stopped as your eyes flew open and you remembered hearing words that clearly weren’t yours. Did he…? Was that really…? N-no way… could it be? Or did I finally completely lose it and project my desires so hard I passed out…? You pressed trembling fingers to your lips as you silently prayed that it wasn’t all in your head and then you listened, reaching out with your whole being for that connection you’d dreamed of your whole life. Please be there, please be there… You held your breath, your heart feeling as if it would burst any moment.

Later you’d swear that you felt him before you heard him, that pull, that connection deep within, giving you the tiniest moment to prepare before you finally heard his voice growing stronger and clearer with each word he spoke.

“--rible idea, I don’t know why I ever listened to Sam in the first place.” You exhaled with a soft laugh, overcome with joy and emotion and literally blurted out before you could stop yourself--

“Who’s Sam?”

His POV

Bucky’s head snapped up. “You’re alive?!”

Your laugh was like music to his ears. “Sure feels like I am, got a bit of a bump on my head though… and my favorite mug is toast.” He could hear the twinge of sadness in your voice and immediately felt the strange need to fix it.

“That explains the sound that scared me half to death...”

“You shoulda been here to see me keel over, now that would’ve been something.” There you go giggling again, he was quickly becoming addicted to that sound.

As your laughter faded away the silence descended again. One beat, two beats, three-- “So…” you both started and then immediately chuckled in individually adorable, awkward ways.

“It’s really you? M-my um, soulmate?” He could hear the cautious hope in your tone.

“Yeah, looks like it is.” He hoped he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt.

“This should feel weird, right? But somehow it doesn’t, and that should be weird, right? Sorry for rambling I-I just can’t believe it’s really you...”

“It’s alright, I just found out today that soulmates were a real thing so I’m still trying to decide whether or not I'm hallucinating all this.”

“Same here, but mostly because I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment.” The longing in your voice was unmistakable.

“Oh,” he deflated a bit, suddenly worried that he’d ruined things before they’d even started. “I-I’m so sorry…”

“Oh no, don’t be sorry okay? We’ve found each other now a-and that’s all that matters.” He sighed in relief, the tone of your voice instantly putting him at ease. He was feeling more and more thankful for.. for.. He groaned, facepalming as he realized his mistake. Nice move idiot, he thought as he cursed himself internally.

“What’s wrong?” Your worried voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“I just realized I don’t even know your name,” he said apologetically.

“Oh, It’s um, it’s (Y/N).” Wow you really can hear when someone is smiling, he realized.

“(Y/N)... that’s a beautiful name. I’m James, but everyone calls me Bucky.”

“Bucky hmm? Can’t wait to hear the story behind that nickname.”

“Not much to tell, it’s just a play on my middle name.”

“Well, I still look forward to hearing all about it. So, soulmate James slash Bucky, how much do you know about what we are, about soulmates?”

“Not much actually, not sure what’s fact or fiction since my only sources are my roommate who doesn’t have a soulmate yet and the cesspool that is the internet.”

“Well consider me something of an expert, my parents were actually soulmates and they told me all about it. What questions do you have?”

He thought for a moment. “Is it true that we could see each other, if we wanted?”

He could hear you hum thoughtfully. “Yes, ‘if we wanted’ being the key bit there, consent is absolutely essential.”

“My roommate, that’s Sam by the way, said that since I was seeing and hearing you in my dreams that you must have been pretty open about connecting with me, is that true?”

“Dreaming about me already, huh?” He couldn’t help but smile at the affection in your voice. “Well Sam is right, I decided a long time ago that I wanted to be ready for my soulmate whenever my soulmate was ready for me. It seemed like a natural first step.”

He pictured you in his mind’s eye, the girl literally of his dreams. You were probably dying to know what he looked like as well. Bucky suddenly worried about all the things that made him a very complicated soulmate. His past, his age, his current occupation, his arm… his thoughts quickly spiraling out of control.

“Bucky? A-are you okay? You’re awfully quiet...”

“Y-yeah I just… I’m not sure I’m ready to show you what I look like yet.” He knew his voice sounded strained but he couldn’t help it.

“It’s okay, if you’re worried that I won’t like the way you look or something you don’t have to, worry that is. The soulmate bond goes so much deeper than the physical, we are literally made for each other, it’s gonna be okay.”

“I just… I think I’m gonna need some time to process all this, to get comfortable with it. Is.. is that okay?” He hated sounding so vulnerable.

“Hey of course it’s okay Bucky, you’re not gonna hurt my feelings. I’ve waited my whole life to find you, just knowing you are really there is the most wonderful thing that’s happened to me in, well, ever! I love being able to finally talk to you and the rest, well the rest will happen when the time is right. I’m not going anywhere.”

Yet again everything about your voice eased his anxiety and he felt himself relax. “Thank you doll, that means a lot.”

He heard your tiny sharp intake of breath, then your timid whisper, “Oh, I like that.”

He was momentarily confused until he realized what he said. “Like what? Being called ‘doll’?”

“Yeahhhhh..” You sounded a bit flustered, something that interestingly enough gave him a small sense of pride.

“Are you--- are you blushing right now?” He knew he was being cheeky but gosh he was loving it.

“Mayyyyybe?” You were definitely flustered and Bucky was hooked.

“Now that I look forward to seeing.” He was legitimately grinning at this point.

You gasped, “Who knew my soulmate would be such a charmer? Bet that works on all the girls where you’re from.”

“Nah, not any other girls, not for a long time anyway.” The sound of Bucky’s phone alerting him to a text pulled his attention away. “Shoot I gotta go… I’m late to meet up with Sam. Um, so how exactly do I contact you again?”

“Well, if everything works the way it’s supposed to, all you have to do is listen for my voice. This sounds nuts but I actually talk to you all the time, like an embarrassing amount, about the most mundane things. You just don’t hear it all the time because you aren’t tuned into me.”

“So I just need to ‘tune out’ when we are done and then ‘tune in’ when I wanna talk to you? That seems too easy.” He couldn’t help but sound skeptical, but then again he’d learned a lot of impossible things in his long lifetime.

“Yep, and it’ll probably get easier as time goes on honestly.” You paused before continuing, your voice thick with emotion. “I-I'm so glad we finally met, Bucky.”

“I am too (Y/N), I really am.” He wished he could be there to wipe the tears he knew were falling down your face. “It’s not goodbye, never goodbye, okay? We’ll be talking again before you know it.”

“I know,” you were audibly sniffling at this point. “It’s mostly happy tears, I swear. Just.. j-just promise me that you won’t disappear on me? That you’ll be back?”

Now it was Bucky’s turn to fight back tears. “I promise, we’ll talk again, real soon.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that mister.” He could hear your happy leaking through your words.

“That’s my girl.” He smiled, picturing your face. “Later, Doll.”

“Talk to you soon, Bucky.”

And just like that he felt the connection end, but not sever though. There was still this feeling, a pull that didn’t go away when their conversation ended. He put his hand over his heart, closing his eyes and taking a moment to embrace the feeling, knowing somehow that somewhere out there you were doing the same thing.

Another incoming text from Sam had him scrambling for the door. He was definitely in for a Captain America sized lecture for his lateness and undoubtedly a giant Sam sized ‘I TOLD YOU SO’ when he explained exactly what or rather who had made him so late.

Part 5

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ceruleanchillin · 4 years

Text

Somersault (Kirishima x Reader)

Kirishima Eijiro x F!Reader

Part of my MHA AU established previously.

Synopsis: Glimpses into you and Kiri’s relationship.

Warnings: Implied drug use, Implied smut

A/N: I don’t really do songfics, but I will tell you Somersault by Zero 7 inspired this chapter. Recommend listening to it, cuz it gives Kiri feels.

Does anyone else think of Kiri when they talk to jock villagers on Animal Crossing?

| Give Love To Me |

“I thought we talked about this hmm?” Kirishima gently dabbed at your nose, eyes trained to spot any more blood.

You focused on the taste of poison that congregated at the back of your throat, the pipes that hadn’t stopped protesting since Kirishima had forced them to draw water, and the cracked window letting in chilly night air around the towel stuffed in it. Anything other than your boyfriend’s disappointed sighs and poorly hidden worry.

“Sorry Eiji….I..” you weren’t used to apologizing, or being ashamed, but Kirishima could bring emotions out of you, you didn’t know existed.

“You just made a mistake.” he kissed your forehead, and cradled you to his chest. “That’s why you get tomorrow. So you can try again.”

You sunk lower into the luke-warm water, eyes roaming up to the water stained ceiling. At the time, doing a line had sounded like the only good idea you’d ever heard, and you’d indulged, going against the promise you’d made to your boyfriend. It got you through two sets and made the packed, dingy lounge so much prettier. So much glitter. So much laughter, and it was easier to give real smiles. Why had that seemed like enough in value to disappoint Kiri?

“Hey,” he gently tapped your collarbone. “You ok? You with me?”

“Yeah.” You said hoarsely. “I won’t do it again Eiji...I won’t.” You grasped the arm slung around your torso, dragging your thumbs across the skin as fast as the water and your come down would allow.

“I know you won’t. Not my best girl.” He kissed the back of your head for a long moment, and brought you closer to his chest, caging you in his arms.

And you wondered where he got that bottomless trust from. Why was he so good, and where had he learned to be? He lived in the same streets you did, how did you catch the eye of a saint? Your eyes burned with unshed tears. How could you ever hope to be the woman he deserved?

Kirishima shushed you, rocking you gently. “You wanna tell me who gave it to you?”

Somewhere in the fog of your thoughts, you knew no matter how gently Kiri was asking, it wasn’t simply out of curiosity. “Noooo Eiji.” you slurred. “Don’t worry about it.”

He laughed. “Ok, ok.”

He hid his burning questions behind one of his lopsided grins when you turned to look back at him, trying to see if he meant it. He pressed a purposely sloppy kiss to your forehead until you giggled and squirmed to turn back around. Only then did he let his grin drop.

| The Sticks and Stones |

You were achy, you were chilly, and your stomach kept threatening to make you vomit if you didn’t keep focused on not doing so. You were ready to consider it penance for breaking your promise to your boyfriend, but he’d said “no way!” and saddled you with your favorite warm drink. All-in-all, it wasn’t the best day to be a mover, even if that was the only price for four weeks free crashing.

“So you’re just going to sit there?” Robbie, a friend of Kirishima’s and fellow freelance bouncer, stood in front of you.

You gave him a look that said you thought he was worth less than the effort it took to do so, before pushing your shades up, and severing eye contact.

“Look Primadonna, you’re crashing with us. The least you could do is pitch in.”

You crossed your legs and continued to nurse your latte. Robbie didn’t know it, but the bigger fit he threw, the less likely you’d be to help. And you weren’t planning on it in the first place.

Robbie growled in frustration, and kicked the trunk you were sitting on.

“Hey,” Kirishima grabbed his shoulder and pulled him away, wearing his signature grin, though it was strained. “Lot of stuff still in the truck, let’s finish up.”

“That’s just what I was telling HRH over here.” Robbie jammed his thumb in your direction.

“Don’t worry about her.” Kirishima gave him another grin, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m doing the bulk of the work anyways. I’m working for both of us.”

Robbie threw his hands up in frustration and walked over to the moving truck. His girlfriend had been glaring at you, wanting you to wilt under her stare. You lowered your shades, made eye contact, and maintained it while you lit a cigarette.

“Hey, come on.” Kirishima kneeled in front of you. “We gotta be here for a while. Try to get along.”

You exhaled a white cloud into the cold air, aiming it at Robbie’s girlfriend who was in the process of whining about how “trash” you were.

“I like it when it’s just us Kiri.”

“I know.” he sighed, palms rubbing your chilled kneecaps attempting to bring them warmth. “But this is where we’re at for a while. Remember I told you Bakugo, Midoriya, and I are working on a place-”

“They hate me,” you cut him off, pushing your shades back up. “Especially their girlfriends.”

“They don’t hate you baby,” Kirishima nuzzled your cheek, using that tone he did when he thought you might be hurt. “They just don’t really know you that well.”

Kirishima gave you a grin, this one real, in an attempt to reassure you. He was beautiful, always using his energy to make sure you were secure. It made you feel selfish and ungrateful, and something ugly roared to life within you. It made you want to say something, someone’s name, you knew would hurt him.

“If you would’ve sold what I had left over we’d be better off, but you’re so fucking opposed and moral when it suits you. Pfft.” you took a long drag. “Take care of me my ass. I should’ve gone to Dabi or Hawks.”

Kirishima looked like a kicked puppy, and your entire being clenched in response. That ugly thing inside had gone dormant and left you in the grip of guilt and self-resentment.

You stubbed out your cigarette, and carelessly placed your latte aside. “Oh Kiri,” you gripped his cheeks. “I can be such a bitch...I didn’t mean any of it, I’m sorry.”

He didn’t say anything, and that twisted your insides more. Your desperation made you babble almost uncontrollably.

With shaky hands you shoved your shades onto your head, and pressed your lips to his. “I’m sorry. You’re doing great Kiri, you’re doing great for me. I need you to believe me..don’t listen to me when I’m..”

“I know that’s not really you (Y/N),” he kissed both of your knees, making you go quiet. “Not the real you. She’s still a work in progress, but she’s beautiful.”

You bit your lip hard to fight spouting another word stream. More apologies danced with words of self-criticism on your tongue, begging to be spoken. You wanted him to call you out. You wanted him to find something ugly in himself and take revenge. He would never though. That wasn’t your Kiri, and that revelation only made your hands ache to pull your shades back over your eyes.

“She’s a coffee addict, she takes her showers cold, and she always eats off my plate, even when hers is right there.”

A small smile surfaced at his words, but you could still feel anxiety and regret twisting your insides.

As always, Kiri was in tune with you, and took your hands. “But I love her, and I don’t let anyone call her a bitch. Not even herself.”

| The Unknown and Home |

Kirishima liked bouncing well enough. He’d always been able to take a punch, he was great in a fight, and he liked defending people. It didn’t pay the best in the world, and he saw ugly parts of the city he wished he hadn’t, but he liked it.

Then he met you, and he loved it. The nights where the two of you worked the same club or lounge were his favorite. He often got chewed out by his bosses for being distracted, but that was ok. Kirishima thought you had to be blind or deaf not to be when you took the stage.

Soft songs where you skillfully played your voice up to crack at certain parts, fast songs where Kirishima would have to continuously adjust himself because of your hip movements. He loved it all when it came to your singing.

His enthralled expression slowly changed to one of rage. You were skillfully dodging the hands of an admirer in the crowd, while continuing your song, and the roll of your hips. He wasn’t the only one to appreciate your musical talent and the person it came from. Some were more enthusiastic in their appreciation than others, and that’s when Kirishima took on a vastly different character.

You wore a shimmery gold slip dress like it was made for you, and not stolen from a store across town. Yes, he would admit, under the changing lights you looked ethereal. The problem was, like a porchlight, you were attracting pests, and he couldn’t have that.

The greasy hand that had been reaching for you hung at an awkward angle only seconds later. Kirishima only faintly heard the crunch and your distressed “Eiji!” as he assumed a fighting stance. He’d known creepy patrons to be able to fight through almost anything.

Somehow, the creep had friends, and they were loyal. He was in too deep by that point, and treated them all like they were their friend.

---

Two bouncers, three barflys, a bartender, and an angry interrupted singer swinging the mic stand made quite the mess. The kind of mess that gets the singer and her boyfriend fired without pay and banned from the establishment.

You huffed your exasperation as you accepted half of his adrenaline-drained weight on the walk home. You could feel how proud of himself Kirishima was, and it made you feel like starting another fight.

“That was so manly the way you decked that guy with the bottom of the mic stand babe.” he murmured.

You could hear Kiri falling in love with you all over again, and as endearing as you found it, you were missing a shoe and a job now.

“I swear only you could eat that many hits and stay up to deal them back. You must be made of rock or some shit.” you huffed again, and tightened your hold around his waist.

“Not quite.” he chuckled and it was then you noticed him grasping his side. What you thought had possibly been bruised ribs could be worse.

“Oh shit,” you stopped abruptly, catching more of his weight at the sudden stop, and almost falling. “Did you get stabbed?!”

“Nooo.” he waved you off, and sighed painfully at the action. “Just scratched, deeply.”

You hobbled in uneven height around him, mind racing to think of a street doctor that owed you a favor in case he was lying. Fortunately he wasn’t.

“I’ll be ok. I heal pretty great, remember?” he grinned a proud, boyish grin, and you felt like you might be falling in love with him all over again too. But you were still pissed.

“You better. I might feel like beating your ass too.” You let him lean into you again as you began your awkward walk back to a borrowed home.

“I’d let you.” he chirped, laying his head on your own.

---

Patching Kiri up always seemed so useless by the time you got around to it. He stopped feeling pain faster than anyone you’d ever seen, high or sober. By morning his bruises would be a memory he’d barely remember. The only thing to keep an eye on was the cut, which you would, even if it wouldn’t be obvious to anyone but Kiri. He brought out something nurturing in you that was so powerful and foreign, it frightened you, but you were powerless against it.

Kirishima had fought you the whole time, wanting to focus on your minor nicks and scrapes, but you won out like always. You wanted to be homebase to him for a change, whether he felt he deserved that or not.

He was too tired to efficiently put up a fight, and by the time you were done, he’d crashed heavily right there in the corner of the couch.

“I wanted to cuss at you some more.” you murmured mirthfully, brushing drooping red strands from his forehead.

Checking him once more, and realizing you’d done about as well as you could, you fell onto the other side of the couch. Kiri would find his way to you eventually after you both found sleep. For the moment you were going to try to find a comfortable spot on the lumpy nightmare couch, and mourn your lost income.

You spent the better part of thirty minutes trying to assure yourself the opposite of what you knew to be the truth. You were temporarily burned on the nightclub circuit for that evening’s antics. Several hushed phone calls were made, each ending when your pride forced it. You wouldn’t beg when that had never gotten you anywhere before.

Your higher mind cursed you now that you’d be relying primarily on Kiri’s other job for income. It didn’t matter how many times Kirishima said you could rely on him, you hadn’t raised yourself that way, and you couldn’t afford to slack.

No one would call Bakugou divine, except maybe his airhead girlfriend, but he turned out to be the answer to your prayers that evening. He arrived with a pound to the door that you swore sounded like an explosion, his signature knock, and you quickly tried to mitigate any chance of him waking Kirishima.

You slid across yellowed linoleum on socked feet, and cracked the door.

“Come back tomorrow, he’s sleeping and you’re not waking him up.”

You caught his brow twitching in irritation at being told what to do. “Where do you think I’m gonna store this shit?”

He shook a worn duffle bag full of what you knew to be stolen goods.

“I don’t car-”

“Stop being a bitch and get out of the way.” he shoved the door, and you had no hope of stopping him from coming in, but you still grasped his bicep defiantly.

“Don’t.Wake.Him.” you dug your nails into hard muscle and narrowed your eyes.

“He’s gotta move quickly on some of this. Kirishima may have told you the sun rises out of your ass, but it doesn’t, and the rest of us have to survive too.” he stalked over to your sleeping boyfriend, fully prepared to punch him awake.

“Wait don’t!” you barely contained your voice to a loud whisper. “He’s tired, leave him alone.”

He growled low in his throat. “I already told yo-”

“I’ll do it.”

“What?” he snorted, but his face was blank. “You don’t know what you’re doing. You’re liable to get us all burned or worse, go to that shitty patchwork quilt fuck you used to run with.”

“I’ve been on the streets long enough jackass, and I’ve seen Kiri do it a million times. I know what’s worth what and who wants it.” you bristled at him throwing your past connections back in your face. “And not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t deal with him anymore.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, not interested, and you regretted even answering that. He studied you for a moment, and the flexing of his hand let you know he was mulling it over.

You decided not to wait, grabbing the bag and beginning to drag it into the kitchen. As expected, Bakugo rushed you for his ill-gotten goods.

You jutted your chin up at him. “I can do it. Just let him rest, it’s been a long night.”

He glared at you, judging you in a way that no longer made you want to punch him, before speaking. “Fine, but we’re staying to make sure you don’t fuck it up.”

“We’re?” your face crumpled in confusion, then realized he meant his girlfriend and grimaced. ‘For Kiri.’ you thought.

“Whatever.”

---

On any other day Bakugou would loudly and proudly admit he couldn’t stand you. You were convinced he and the gang hated you, that they thought you were cold and you were mostly correct. They loved Kirisihima and he’d made it clear you two were a package deal. He could remember the one and only time Kirishima got violent with him, and it was because he’d called you several nasty names in one fell swoop when he’d been drinking. He remembered laying in his car that night wondering what the fuck about you had his best friend so gone.

That night he thought he’d finally gotten a glimpse. Beaten up, and clearly tired yourself, you were forcing yourself to carefully build an inventory out of the stolen goods he and Midoriya had acquired the previous three nights. You told him what happened at the lounge, and he knew you probably wanted to crash right next to Kirishima, but you wouldn’t. You wanted to take care of him. Watching you squinting your tired eyes in the dim light of that shitty closet kitchen, he decided his friend may not be such a dumbass after all.

| Somersault In Sand With Me |

“Eiji…no, I’m still sore.” you murmured sleepily, curling into a ball under the thin quilt.

Kirishima poked your side again, muffling a laugh. “That’s not what I want babe. Well..yeah I always want that-”

“I know.” you gently kicked back at him, hiding a tiny grin in your pillow.

“I want you to come somewhere with me, it’s important.”

He sounded so uncharacteristically serious, that you allowed yourself to be fully pulled from sleep. You sat up, reaching for your phone charging on top of your bag by the couch.

Exactly 3 a.m.

“Eijiro I swear to god…”

“It’s important, fence’s honor. Now get your cute ass out of bed.” he tackled you in a warm embrace, spread kisses across your cheeks, and released you to get up from the couch bed.

You dropped your phone back into your bag with a groan. It was amazing how out of character this man could make you.

Kirishima helped you get dressed, smirking every time he noticed your slight limp. For every smirk you bit him, and he kissed you. It went against every independent bone in your body, but Kiri dressing you felt like heaven. His soft kisses on your thighs when he helped you slide into your leggings, the soft coos and admissions of love as he slipped you into one of his sweatshirts, and the gentle cradling of your feet as he slipped your feet into your shoes. You couldn’t even be grumpy, not when your personal sunbeam was looking at you like he received his life from you.

Kirishima led you out of the apartment, and before you knew it, he’d scooped you onto his back, threatening to drop you if you didn’t hold on. He took off at full speed with your surprised blend of laughter and shouts behind him.

You barely had any time to work out where he might be taking you that wasn’t planned at that hour before he arrived at the destination. An elementary school playground.

He stooped, allowing you to slide off his back, which you did with confusion. “What’s here Eiji?”

“Everything!” he chirped like it was so simple to see.

You blinked up at him trying to gauge whether he had the signs of having something in his system.

“Come on, we would’ve killed for this as kids. We get the whole place to ourselves, what do you wanna do first?”

“Crack your head open and examine the insides.” you scowled. “I was sleeping, and you want to do what exactly?”

“You’re so adorable when you’re cranky, you’re adorable anytime bu-”

“Kiri…” you narrowed your eyes, contemplating following through on your threat.

Kirishima’s face went blank, but his expression soon returned as a wide grin. “Oh I get it babe, that’s your pride talking. If you’re too afraid of looking uncool….”

“Pfft!” you shot him an incredulous look. “Nice try. Here’s where I try to prove you wrong, thus falling into the trap right?”

“No, my woman’s much too smart for that.” his grin curled into a smirk. “Here’s where I snatch your precious beret and make you chase me for it.”

Before you could register what he said, he followed through and yanked the hat from your head. He took off across the grass laughing almost manically with genuine joy. He was so adorable, it almost made you forget how long you saved for that beret. Almost.

You launched after him, shouting vulgar threats the whole way.

“Come on babe, we do kinkier stuff than that all time, really make me feel it!” he laughed, taking the steps to the pirate ship playhouse two at a time.

“Well, remember it fondly, because that’s over now hammerhead!” you leapt at him only to have him dodge you.

“Then what do I have to live for?” his face contorted into a mock pout. “I should just walk the plank now.”

Eiji doged another lunge from you and jumped from the toy plank that barely hung above the ground. You landed after him shortly and continued to chase him while he waxed poetic about his life being over if he could ‘never take you again’. Between laughter at his silly proclamations and failed lunge attempts, your lungs were on fire. That didn’t stop you from giving the chase your all. Around the merry-go-round, an almost win in the sandbox, an attempted cut off under the jungle gym. You eventually thought of a way to end it by fighting dirty.

Eijiro was headed for the animal-shaped spring riders, and right as he got close you shouted. “Time out Eiji my shirt tore off!”

“Wha-” he looked back at the right time to hit a pink seal and flip over it, landing on his back.

You jogged over, smirking at your win, no matter how ill-gotten.

“Not manly babe,” he groaned, sitting up to rub his back. “Not at all.”

“I caught you!” you laughed, straddling his waist to prevent any escape attempts.

“You did.” he said softly, gazing at you with a look that took your breath away.

It said everything he couldn’t say. Not because he was afraid to, never Eijiro, but because he couldn't always find the words to. That he couldn’t believe he found you, and would die if he lost you. That he was so yours, he felt like he always had been, even before he knew life. That you were his world and you were more than enough for him. You were everything to him.

“Always catch me...yeah?” he placed the beret on your head gently, before he placed a hand to your cheek.

“Always.” you got out around the lump in your throat. Instinct made you hold back your tears, Eijiro’s love made them fall.

-----

End Note:

If you want to let me know what you think should happen in the Midoriya chapter, my inbox is open (with anon on). The established AU is (here).

Dabi is next.

#bnha #Kirishima Eijiro #Kirishima Eijiro x reader #kirishima x reader #reader insert #mha #my hero x reader #au #mha au

26 notes · View notes

staliaqueen · 4 years

Text

bittersweet | 22

pairing: stiles stilinski x oc a/n: very little stalerie interaction this in this part, but you guys got so much last time I’m sure you will be fine. this part does pretty much settle the confusion behind Valerie’s powers, though. warnings: violence, mentions of murder, a car crash and a panic attack. wordcount: 3896

<<prev || masterlist || next>>

Stiles

“We were here a couple of hours ago, and the message left to Barrow spelling out Kira’s and Valerie’s names was right there on the board in my handwriting and I had the key to the Chemistry closet.”

Scott furrowed his brows. “So, you unlocked the Chemistry closet so Barrow could hide in it from the cops and then you wrote him a message to kill Kira and Valerie?”

I shook my head. “I know, I know, I know how it sounds, but,” I reached my hand into the front pocket of my pants and pulled out the paper, “look at this.” Scott and Valerie leaned in so they could read the paper. “This is a news report that came out about Barrow when they caught him, okay? About the shrapnel bomb that he used. See this? See what he did? He put nuts, bolts, and screws. And then he hid the bomb and the detonator in a box that he wrapped like a birthday present. What does that sound like to you?”

Scott looked up, realization washing over his expression. ”Coach. The joke we played on Coach.”

“That was my idea. You remember? That was my idea. That’s no coincidence, it can’t be.”

“I don’t wanna sound like I’m trying to tell you that you’re wrong but-”

“Yeah, but I don’t have a problem with that,” Valerie spoke up. “Stilinski, this is ridiculous, you did not send a serial killer to kill me.”

I looked down, tears brimming in my eyes as I crumpled up the news report in my hand. “It was here. It was all here.”

“Yeah, I know that. I saw it, okay? I saw it,” she said, her voice much softer now. “But that doesn’t mean you wrote it. Why and how would you even do that?”

I sighed, running a hand over my face. “I don’t- I don’t know.”

“Dude, are you feeling okay?” asked Scott. “You’re looking really tired.”

“Yeah, I’m fine I just haven’t been... sleeping really.”

“Well, why don’t you go home? Take a sick day or something.”

---

Valerie

As Stiles headed home, I followed Scott out of the classroom, listening to him tell me about everything we missed last night. Basically that several supernaturals had been attacked by mysterious demonic ninjas that only came out at night, and apparently, they wanted more. It was hard to comprehend what exactly I had been dragged into, but it was better than not knowing.

As we walked into the main hall, two figures perked their heads up at our appearance.

“Scott, did you-“

Their eyes fell on me and they instantly fell silent. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they looked guilty. I clenched my fists, trying to withhold my anger towards the two former alphas. I actually managed to not slam their heads together as hard as I could, so I considered it an achievement. I flashed them a sarcastic smile and spoke in the fakest happy-voice I could muster.

“Hey! Ethan, Aiden. Nice to see you again. I’m just gonna leave you with Scott and go and hang out with my real friends. You know, the ones who didn’t kill my best friend and then lie about it.” I gave them the most sarcastic salute in the world, and headed into the corridor, conveniently just running into Kira.

“Hi.”

“Hey. I was actually just looking for you. I need to show you something. It’s really important.”

“Okay,” I said, nodding and grabbing Kira’s arm to drag her into an empty classroom.

I leaned against one of the desks with Kira right beside me. “What did you want to tell me?” I asked.

Kira took her backpack off of her shoulders and opened it, pulling out a picture book. It was illustrated with beautiful cherry blossom trees on the cover, and the title read ‘Japanese Mythology: Creatures, Spirits, and Demons’.

“Have you ever heard of something called a kitsune?”

I nodded. “Yeah, they’re from Japanese mythology, right? It’s the inspiration for Vulpix and Ninetales.”

Kira nodded, understanding my Pokémon reference perfectly. She opened the book to a page she had bookmarked and then began flipping through them, illustrations of foxes with nine tales on every page.

“That looks like what happened to us at the substation,” I said, pointing at a particular picture.

Kira nodded. “Yeah. When a Kitsune rubs its tails together it can create fire or lighting.”

My eyebrows rose at the mentions of the two words, and Kira nodded, understanding what I was thinking.

“It’s called foxfire.”

“We don’t have any tails, though,” I said, making Kira laugh.

—

I was supposed to meet Scott and Kira at Scott’s house before sundown. Something about sticking together and protecting each other against the demonic ninjas. The two of them had headed there in advance, and I was headed towards the Pérezes’ house. I had left my bag at Marcel’s last night so I just needed to pick that up. I had also promised Colin an explanation for my disappearance last night, so I spent most of the journey there trying to figure out how much I was going to tell him.

When I arrived, instead of going through the front door I headed towards the garage. Julia and Marcel were at their doctor's appointment, so Colin was the only one home, and at this time I knew he was practicing with Freddie and Marcus.

I opened the side door, which was open, and stepped in just as they were finishing up a song. Colin, Freddie, and Marcus all turned towards me and smiled.

“Hey,” said Marcus, leaning into his synth.

“Hey,” I said, mirroring their smiles and walking across the room to pick up my bag, which was placed in the corner of the room. “That sounded really good. You guys are getting better.”

“Thanks,” said Colin. “You wanna join us for a couple of songs?”

“Sorry, I can’t. I gotta be somewhere before sundown.”

Colin’s brows furrowed. “Where?”

“I have other friends, you know.”

“Who? Stilinski?” Freddie’s teasing voice carried from behind the drums.

I rolled my eyes heavily. Freddie was awesome, but he could be a pain in the ass most of the time. The phrase ‘frat boy’ was probably the most accurate way to describe him. His blonde hair had been styled in a buzz cut for as long as I’d known him. He also always wore a backward SnapBack on his head.

I admired him deeply, though I would never tell him that. A couple of years back he had gotten in a car accident. No one had died, but as a result, his legs were now paralyzed. Despite now being stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of his life, he didn’t let it affect his positive attitude. He remained happy and upbeat.

He also loved to work out, since before the accident, which resulted in his upper body being super buff while his legs were pretty skinny.

“No, it’s Kira.”

“So,” said Marcus. While Colin and Freddie had known each other since 6th grade, Marcus had first met them in college. He had been really shying didn’t plan on making any friends, but after being paired together in a group project, Freddie had basically adopted him into their group, affectively breaking him out of his shell. Once they discovered their mutual love for music, they decided to start a band, and thus The Outcasts was created.

Marcus was rocking his usual jean on jean combo. He was wearing a green shirt underneath, and a badge with the trans flag on it was pinned on his chest. He was the shortest out of all of them (which wasn’t saying much), standing at just half an inch taller than me. He had dark skin, deep-set dark eyes, and his short afro was dyed blue at the tips. “Are you going to tell us what happened when you ran off with him last night?”

I shrugged. “We just broke into the Sheriff’s Station.”

As intended, their jaws dropped.

“Yeah, Kira’s phone had been taken into evidence. We just deleted a couple of pics she didn’t want the police to see. It sounded kind of thrilling, and yeah, Stilinski is still annoying but he did save my life, so I decided to give him another chance.”

Freddie raised his eyebrows. “How is it that you’re already in an on-again, off-again relationship with this guy and you’re not even dating?” Laughter broke out from all of them, including Freddie, who liked to laugh at his own jokes.

I picked up one of the spare drumsticks from a table beside me and threw it at him. He dodged it easily.

“At least I’m not still sleeping with my ex,” I quipped back. ‘Oohs’ escaped from both Colin and Marcus, making me smirk.

“Oh you’re one to talk,” said Freddie, picking up the drumstick I’d thrown at him and throwing it at Colin. “At least I’m getting some. You’re pining after a girl who’s dating your ex-boyfriend.”

Colin couldn’t help but join in on the laughter that followed.

“It’s in times like this I’m thankful for being aromantic,” said Marcus, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “You’re lucky.”

“Except for the fact that millions of people say I don’t exist.”

“Yeah, except for that.”

---

3rd person

“Valerie just texted,” said Kira, looking up from her phone. “She’s on her way.”

Scott nodded, double-checking that the window was closed just to have something to do.

“Can I ask you a question?” asked Kira, fiddling with the phone in her hands. “I mean, I’d ask Valerie but I have a feeling she won’t answer.”

Scott raised his eyebrows, curious as to what the question could be. “Sure.”

“What’s with her and Stiles? Does she like him? Does she think he’s annoying? Cause I’ve gotten signs that point in both directions and honestly, it’s gotten me pretty curious about it. I know it’s none of my business cause if she wanted to tell me she’d tell me, right? God, I probably shouldn’t even have asked you in the first place – just forget I said anything-”

“Kira.” Scott put a hand on her shoulder, effectively shutting her up. “Calm down, it’s not that big of a deal. I’ll tell you everything I know, just calm down.”

Kira nodded, taking a seat on the edge of Scott’s bed as he sat down beside her.

“I get why you’re confused. It’s really complicated. Even I don’t really get it and I’ve been here for all of it. I don’t even think they themselves understand their relationship right now,” said Scott, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips. “But it started out pretty simple. Valerie hated him when she moved here in fifth grade because he set her hair on fire by accident, and she spent the next few years exerting her revenge.”

Kira raised her eyebrows. “How do you accidentally set someone’s hair on fire?”

Scott shook his head. “I honestly have no idea. They were paired together in science. We were supposed to do that thing where you place a glass over a candle and it goes out because of the lack of oxygen. Well, instead of lighting the candle, he lit Valerie’s hair.”

Kira still looked confused. “But – how...?”

Scott shrugged. “It’s Stiles.

“Anyway, it was really bad. She had to go to the hospital. My mom treated her and she said she was lucky she didn’t burn her scalp. The next day in school Stiles tried apologizing to her, but Valerie started yelling at him before he had the chance. He called her hothead when she wouldn’t calm down. That nickname lasted for about a year.”

Kira flinched. “Wow, that sounds pretty bad. What happened next?”

“Well, their lives started to intertwine more when Derek turned her best friend, Erica. Uh, she’s dead now,” Scott explained. Kira’s face fell.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, but they seemed to have settled some kind of truce, or at least stopped hating each other, and for a while, it looked like they were starting to become friends. But then something happened, Valerie got mad at him again and they’ve been going back and forth ever since.”

Kira nodded. “Well, they certainly seemed to care about each other. Valerie seemed quite worried that time he had a panic attack. You know, before you saved us from the coyote. Do you think...” Kira trailed off, uncertain if she should ask the question or not.

“Do I think what?” Scott prodded.

“Do you think they like each other?” she said slowly.

“Well, I can’t speak for Valerie, but there are things about Stiles I’ve been noticing lately. Some things I didn’t think anything of at first, more in retrospect. You know how they say that love and hate are in fact very similar, and how indifference is actually the opposite of both of them?”

Kira nodded.

“It’s just that... Stiles has always cared about Valerie, even when he didn’t like her. He cared what she did and what she thought. When she acted weird or out if the ordinary he wondered what it was about. He always cared.”

“Do you think he knows?”

Scott shook his head. “Definitely not.”

“How long do you think it will take until they admit it?”

“I don’t know. But considering it’s been this long and they still won’t admit that they’re friends, we’ll probably have to wait a while.”

---

Valerie

I arrived at the McCall house at the same time as Melissa, whom I’d been informed knew everything. By the lack of surprise on her face when she spotted me, I figured Scott had told her all about me as well.

It was strange seeing Melissa outside of the hospital. I had gotten to know her really well during my friendship with Erica, seeing as Melissa had been her nurse for years. She had also filled in for my mom’s nurse a couple of times. I really liked her, but I had no idea how to act around her in these new circumstances.

The awkward hello I got from her told me she felt the same.

When we entered the house, we were met with the sight of Scott arguing with his father.

“I don’t need a warrant, I’m your father.”

“No, you’re a gene donor. I got my hair color from you, and that’s all I got. So you’re not allowed to play tough dad with me.”

“Hey, what’s going on?” asked Melissa, taking her place next to Agent McCall. I walked around them, standing next to Scott and Kira. One look at Agent McCall’s computer screen told me everything I needed to know. The screen showed a picture of Scott and Kira when they broke into the Sheriff’s Station. If McCall’s judge eyes on me told me anything, it was that he’d figured out I was distracting him that night.

His eyes went back to Scott and they continued their glaring match. “Maybe one of you should explain.”

“Scott,” Kira’s soft voice broke Scott out of it, and he followed her gaze out the window. The sun had gone down.

I looked behind us, and in the living room, a dark figure appeared. It wore a black mask and hood. Nothing except black smoke and glowing yellow eyes seemed to be hiding behind the mask. My first instinct was a mix of a dementor and a Death Eater. At least the mask didn’t have an opening at the mouth, meaning it couldn’t suck out my soul. But, it could probably slice me in half with the katana in its hand.

Agent McCall noticed the demonic ninja as well. “What the hell is this?” he asked, and then he did probably the stupidest thing he could’ve done at that moment – he approached it.

Scott looked panicked. “Dad, no! Dad, wait!”

He didn’t listen. Quicker than any of us could react, another oni materialized behind him and stabbed its sword right through his chest. Kira screamed, but I was stricken speechless.

“Dad!” Scott and Melissa ran towards Agent McCall. Melissa got down beside him to inspect his wound, and Scott turned towards the demonic ninja, eyes glowing and teeth and claws out.

The back door was kicked open and Melissa dragged Agent McCall’s body to another room. Derek Hale entered through the door, his teeth and claws out as well.

He and Scott both roared before they pounced on a demonic ninja each. Kira quickly made her way to stand by my side, taking my hand in hers. We just stood there watching the two werewolves fight, not really knowing what to do.

“Mom! The ash!” Scott called out mid-fight.

Kira and I exchanged looks as we heard the familiar sound of another one materializing behind us. We turned around slowly, but luckily, before it could do anything, it was distracted by two figures jumping through the windows, shattering them in the process. It was Ethan and Aiden.

I could come up with a million people I’d rather have rescue me than them, but I was still thankful a samurai sword wasn’t run through my chest.

Kira and I ducked behind a couch as they began fighting, nothing to do but look around and make sure we stayed out of the way.

“Mom! Do it now!” said Scott after pushing one of them out of a window. Derek pushed the final one out of the door, and Melissa ran forward and threw down a vail of grey ash by the doorframe.

The ninjas stood right outside, but they didn’t even attempt to walk through.

Kira and I exchanged looks and walked forward towards the doorframe. We started carefully reaching our hands out, and before I could stick it out of the doorframe, an invisible barrier pushed it back. The same thing happened with Kira.

I felt Aiden’s heavy gaze on me, so I turned to him, giving him a death glare that immediately made him look away. He exchanged a look with Ethan from across the room, before turning towards Kira.

“It’s Kira, right?” That coward was looking at her now. He was looking at poor, innocent Kira who was afraid of them both, because he was too scared to look me in the eye. “So, are you gonna tell us what you are?”

“Aiden,” said Ethan warningly.

“No, look,” he said to his brother, before taking a hold of Kira’s wrist. He had only managed to bring it up a couple of inches before I growled at him.

“Get your hands off of her.” My hand flew up to wrap around the wrist that was holding Kira’s. I could feel the back of my eyes heating up as they glowed. Aiden quickly drew his wrist out of my grip, releasing Kira’s in the process. A burn mark had appeared in the shape of a hand around his wrist. It sizzled for a moment before it started to heal.

I blinked, as if coming out of a daze. I had not meant to do that, and the fact that I did could only mean one thing. My powers were getting stronger, and I had no idea how to control them.

God, I did not need this right now. I had too much going on already, I couldn’t risk accidentally revealing myself or worse – hurting someone I cared about. At least they only seemed to be coming out when I was angry, which was... all the time.

I looked at the shocked faces around me. I didn’t give a damn about Ethan and Aiden (in fact, I was happy with them being scared of me), but it hurt to see Kira look at me like that.

“See that?” said Aiden, still rubbing at his wrist. I hope it hurt. “What are you guys?”

“They’re kitsunes, idiot.”

Derek Hale entered the room.

“Use your eyes. You can see it all around them. The younger ones give off an aura. They just haven’t learned how to conceal it yet.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, we haven’t had much time for that. We pretty much found out about this today.”

Derek chuckled. “She probably doesn’t know what kind she is either,” he said, looking at Kira. “But that one,” he pointed at me, “is definitely a fire one.”

“Well spotted.”

---

“Allison, please tell me you have something,” Scott spoke into the phone. “They’re here, they’re trying to get in, and it looks like they’re gonna be able to.”

“Okay, okay, listen. They’re Japanese demons. They’re called the oni. They’re looking for someone possessed. Someone with a dark spirit attached to them. Also known as a nogitsune or a dark kitsune.”

Scott nodded, casting a nervous glance towards Kira and I. “Okay, tell me, what else?”

“Okay, they won’t hurt you. They know you’re supernatural but once they do this check, once they realize that you’re not carrying with you this dark spirit, then they won’t hurt you. I promise. All they’re looking for is the nogitsune.”

Scott mumbled a quick goodbye and hung up.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” said Kira. “They’re looking for me.”

“Oh please Kira,” I said. ”You’re a literal angel. It’s way more likely that it’s me they’re looking for. You saw what just happened. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Scott shook his head. “They’re looking for a dark spirit, and I know that’s not either of you.”

“Scott,” Derek called out warningly, ”we’re gonna have to do something!” And just then the oni broke through the magic barrier. One at a time, they stepped through the door, keeping their eyes on Scott, Kira and I.

“Don’t do anything,” said Scott. He moved with the same confidence and authority as he did when he saved Kira and I from the coyote. It was hard not to trust him when he did that.

“Is he serious?!” asked Aiden, apparently not feeling the same as I.

Three of the oni stepped forward, leaving the other ones by the door.

“I said, don’t do anything.” He spoke with even more authority now. He turned towards us, reaching out his hand to hold Kira’s.

“Trust me.”

Kira and I exchanged a quick glance, just to make sure we were on the same page, before nodding. I took Kira’s other hand and we walked forward towards the oni.

I looked into the eyes of the one in front of me. Like yellow glowing beads, they reminded me of fireflies, which was quite strange. I masked my fear with a face of bravery as the oni reached its hand out and placed it under my chin, its index finger right behind my ear.

The oni’s ‘check’ was hard to describe. It didn’t hurt, but it was anything but pleasant. A coldness seeped through my whole body, all the way into my bones. The oni seemed to be sucking all of the power out of my body through its index finger. Maybe I wasn’t so far off with my dementor comparison.

I fell down on my knees, but the oni kept a firm grip on my chin. As it continued to drain me of my power, I felt a burning sensation behind my ear, which, surprisingly, was the least horrible part.

The oni released its grip on me and I fell limp to the floor.

(not my gif)

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certifiedskywalker · 5 years

Text

Dating Vanya Hargreeves Would Include....

As a fan of Ellen Page, this is totally, 100%, me indulging myself an absolute joy to present to you all. I hope I did our Vanya justice!

Vanya was not without inspiration or fuel when it came to writing.

A plethora of sibling quips, fatherly scoldings, and years of familial trauma did come with their own twisted perks in that respect.

However, Vanya finds herself attending writing classes and really anything that plays a role in the literary world.

She goes to political rallies and marches (Women’s marches specifically, this girl know where she stands) to hear passion fueled speeches

She ventures out to an innumerable amount of bookstores to listen to readings and to peruse the shelves.

One fateful evening, Vanya finds herself in a cafe that’s hosting a poetry slam.

She orders herself a tea and quickly finds a comfy looking, secluded seat a good distance from the stage.

Soon, Vanya is immersed in raw emotion and humorous anecdotes disguised in extended metaphors and varying rhyme schemes.

Most of the poets have gone up already and the setting sun has given way into night.

Despite the creeping tendrils of sleep that pull at Vanya’s eyelids, she lingers.

That’s when you take the stage.

It’s clear that either it’s your first time reading your poetry

Whether you only ascend to stand under the lights on a dare or sudden burst of courage.

Your hands curl into fists as you introduce yourself and Vanya can hear the nerves in your voice.

She pities you at first, for she knows the universal friend that was Anxiety. She was intimate with that prickling sense of fear that accompanied it.

But the moment you begin to recite your work, read the words you poured your heart into, everything melts away.

Vanya becomes totally and wholly entranced by you.

When you’ve finished and descend the steps of the stage, Vanya shoots up from her seat.

Even with her tiny frame, she manages to push her way through the crowd to where you stand, grabbing your things.

Suddenly she is rendered speechless.

Vanya has never done this before, gone up to someone with prospects of something more in mind.

She’s just about to turn around and flee

When you turn around you are met with the prettiest girl you ever had the blessing to lay your eyes upon.

“Um, hi,” she says, waving at you with sweater-pawed hands. “You were really good up there. Your poem was lovely.”

You blush and smile at her. “Thank you. I’m glad you liked it. I’m Y/N L/N.”

“Yeah, I know. You said that on stage.”

You laugh nervously, smiling at the oddly warm yet awkward situation you had found yourself in.

“Oh, sorry, I’m Vanya.”

She extends her hand to you and you shake it.

“Nice to meet you, Vanya. Do you write?”

Her brown eyes are glued on you and you wonder if you’ve ever dedicated a poem to someone’s eyes alone.

You might just have to.

“I do,” she replies, “but uh, not poetry.”

You nod and Vanya feels herself slipping.

Whatever bravery your poetry had stirred up inside her was fading.

She needed to hold on to it for just a little bit longer.

“I actually am working on a book,” Vanya spills and you smile at her.

“Wow, that’s awesome. I would love to hear more about it,” you press.

You’re setting her up to ask you out, shamelessly.

Vanya smiles when she realizes this.

You smile too.

“Would you like to go out sometime? We can exchange sad literature then.”

You laugh and agree before giving Vanya your number.

She gives you hers and asks if you know a place you two can met.

“Actually, this cafe has a really good breakfast-brunch menu if you’re into that sort of stuff.”

“That sounds perfect,” Vanya breaths, still amazed that you agreed to go on a date.

You both settle on a time and Vanya bids you a goodbye.

She watches you slip out into the night as quickly as you left the stage.

The next day, when Vanya stumbles out of her bed and stares into her closet blankly.

She’s spent so much time in there (She’s AT LEAST bi/pansexual, you can pry this from my cold dead hands) but she suddenly is without any idea for what to wear on this first date with you.

Soon she settles on a sweater, jeans, and a rather sloppy ponytail.

She tries to fix her hair a few times, studying her appearance in her mirror until she’s content with it.

Vanya is never one to fuss with the way she looks, settling for her own comfort rather than appealing to others.

But something about you makes her want to try a little harder, put more effort in.

She likes the new feeling.

When she arrives back at the cafe, Vanya picks a spot closer to the door.

Everytime the little bells rings, notifying workers and patrons alike to a new arrival, Vanya’s eyes jerk up to see if it’s you walking inside.

After the first few people, Vanya resigns to nervously picking at her nails.

The calming atmosphere and dark blue walls of the establishment does nothing to soothe her, not even the rich aroma of fresh coffee leaves her slightly shaking.

She has never been on a date like this before.

Vanya is suddenly not even certain if she’s ever been on a real date before.

However she had been nervous like this before, so Vanya quickly implemented the calming techniques used in her therapy sessions.

But then she started to think about therapy….

...and about her mental state….

…..her family, her crazy, superpowered family…..

….she would have so much to tell you….

The prospect of telling you, even if it was later in the future, made Vanya want to cry.

Then the bell above the door rings

And she looks up to see you, already smiling at her.

The fear melts away the instant your eyes met and Vanya, for the first time in her life, feels extraordinary.

All because of your smile.

The two of you order some morning drinks and Vanya picks out a bagel for herself.

“I hear the blueberry one is delicious,” you whisper in her ear as she studies the patisserie.

“You’ve heard or you know first hand?” Vanya asks, her voice light and teasing with her newfound confidence.

“I can easily say I’ve tried each bagel here once,” you admit, heat rising to your cheeks.

Vanya only smiles at you and place her order for a blueberry bagel.

When you sit down she asks how you managed to work your way through the extensive bagel selection.

“I come here a lot. Whether it’s to write or to just get away.”

“I can relate to the getting away bit,” Vanya reveals, “my family rarely gave allowance for any free time.”

Vanya bites her tongue, unable to fathom why she had already hinted at her family’s less than average lifestyle.

With burning cheeks, Vanya lifts her gaze to yours and feels at ease once more.

There was something about you that assuage any fear.

Vanya wondered if it was because you had been so raw and vulnerable with the poem you shared the night prior.

Maybe you could understand her and her own vulnerability. At least, that’s what Vanya hoped in silence.

“Strict parents?”

It’s an innocent question, pulling her from her winding thoughts, but Vanya frowns anyway.

“You could say that, yeah.”

It’s clear to you that you nearly overstepped and quickly you redirect the conversation to writing.

“So you’re working on a book?”

“Y-Yeah, it’s an autobiography.”

“Really?” You ask, somewhat shocked.

“Turns out all that lack of free time gives you a lot of interactions to write about.”

“I guess there is a silver lining,” you sigh, but reach over the table to give her hand a slight squeeze. “I hope your book will help you make peace with your family.”

Vanya nodded, but her smile was bittersweet.

Although, Vanya couldn’t deny how your words felt like a step in the right direction.

“Peace for the Hargreeves is like equal rights for women,” she scoffs, “almost there but forever out of reach.”

You almost laugh, but the name of the family catches your attention.

Then you realize Vanya never gave you her last name.

“The Hargreeves? Like the super kids?”

Vanya’s face falls in that moment as she nods.

“Yeah, I’m the seventh kid. The ordinary one no one talks to or about.”

You squeeze her hand again and Vanya lifts her brown eyes to meet your intense gaze.

“Well I’m talking to you and I want to know all about you.”

You can read the disbelief on her face and your heart aches when you notice her glassy eyes.

Vanya is a sensitive soul, by no fault of her own, and never before had someone told her something so sweet.

So she tells you about herself as your kindness coaxed her honesty.

She tells you about how, most of the time, she fears she won’t amount to much.

You tell her that there are times you feel that way too.

The two of you end up talking for hours.

Morning turns to midday and Vanya checks her watch.

“Oh, I gotta go. I have to meet with my publisher.”

“Okay,” you say, wriggling out of your seat. “Talking deadlines?”

“Yeah,” Vanya grumbles, “because writing isn’t stressful enough, ya know?”

“Oh, I know,” you banter, “but maybe another date can help alleviate that stress?”

Vanya turns to meet your gaze as you walk out of the cafe behind her.

There’s a bright smile on her pink lips and crinkles at the sides of her eyes.

“Yeah, I think it would.”

You set up another date, but for a fancier restaurant in the city.

“From what I’ve heard,” Vanya says, mimicking the way you recommended the blueberry bagel, “it’s amazing.”

You grin because Vanya is really coming out of her shell.

“I’ll just have to take your word for it,” you bite back.

Vanya beams and, unable to hold back, you grab her hand again, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Good luck in your meeting,” you say before pulling her into a hug.

It’s awkward at first, because Vanya isn’t used to such blatant affection.

But soon enough, she melts into your warmth and wraps her arms around your waist.

When you part, you hold her gaze and see a strong sparkle within her eyes.

It is then you realize, and Vanya too, that this was going to go somewhere.

Sadly, when you met up with Vanya outside the restaurant for your next date, it was dark inside.

“What happened?”

“Apparently it wasn’t as amazing as I thought it was,” Vanya sighed.

She was frowning and you could feel the disappointment emanating off of her body.

Her shoulders slouched, making her already diminutive form even smaller.

On an impulse you grab her hand and trace your thumb over her skin in a touching manner.

“Hey, it’s okay. We can find another place.” Vanya nearly melts. All she needs is you, your voice, telling her that it will be okay.

“Yeah, you’re righ-”

A roll of rumbling thunder sounded, cutting Vanya off.

“Great,” she mumbles as the first few droplets of rain began to splatter against the pavement.

You quickly scan the street, looking at any signs for an open diner.

Vanya’s hand doesn’t leave yours as you lead her down the street to further your search.

“What about there?” You ask, pointing to a crumby looking place with an ‘open’ sign blinking.

“Better than the rain,” Vanya said and led you across the street.

The two of you smoosh together under the cramped fabric awning above the diner’s entrance and access the damage done by the rain.

“My hair is a mess,” you fuss, using your hands to gauge just how ‘a mess’ it was.

Vanya only smiles and helps your fix it.

Her hands tremble at the sensation of your soft hair as she rearranges the strands.

It wasn’t the traditionally sense of intimacy, but it was enough to make Vanya weak.

“Thank you,” you said when Vanya pulled her hand back. You met her brown eyes and saw the slight trepidation in them. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Vanya says softly, “this is all just so new.”

Instead of speaking, taking the risk of saying something to set her on edge, you intertwine your fingers with hers and lead her inside the diner.

The lighting is yellow, making the already grey skies outside look all the more sickly through the somewhat grimy windows of the restaurant.

It wasn’t ideal, but for Vanya, anywhere with you was better than alone somewhere else.

“So, Vanya Hargreeves,” you begin, resting your head on your hands as you lean over the table, tantalizing close to the woman across from you.

“So, Y/N L/N,” Vanya mirrors your positioning and her blush becomes more apparent to you.

“Tell me everything.”

Vanya tells you about her day and you tell her about yours, both of your lamenting about the monotony of it all.

You share a new concept for a new poem and Vanya listens like a small child being told a fairytale.

She loves how passionate you become when talking about writing and she hopes that she can do literary justice for you when she writes her book.

You’re both mid conversation when your respective orders of overtly greasy diner food arrives to the table.

The overweight waiter, donning a white paper that tells you both to enjoy your meals in a tone that would read more accurately from a mob boss.

“I think even the salads here are probably just as greasy,” you joke when you see how Vanya eyes the burger she ordered.

She lets out a laugh, something she hasn’t had the pleasure to do in a long time.

The sound is music to your ears, setting a new rhythm for a new poem.

Most of the proceeding dates follow the same flow.

You meet Vanya at a new eating establishment like the new hipster cafe on fourth or the taco joint that opened near the park.

There you learned Vanya isn’t the best with spicy food, for even the mild salsa hurt her tongue.

“Don’t laugh at me! I feel like I’m on fire!”

“I’m not laughing! You just look cute with your cheeks all red!”

After about five dates, Vanya took a step she didn’t ever think she would have to take.

You were walking her home after checking out a new ice cream parlor, with fancy vegan recipes to boot, and Vanya turned to you.

“Hey this is my place,” she said, stopping in front of one of New York’s looming apartment complexes.

“Oh, okay,” you say, your voice heavy with a tinge of sadness. Vanya detects it, feels that same sadness too.

She doesn’t want the night to end.

“You can come up,” she says too quickly, “if you, uh if you want.” You smile when she tries to correct the speed of her voice in the hopes of not sounding too eager.

Vanya smiles too.

She does that a lot around you.

It’s a nice change from her normal frown.

“I would love to.”

Vanya leads you up the stairs that creak with each step and to the door of her apartment.

“It might be a bit of a mess so,” Vanya sighs, “sorry in advance.”

“It’s alright, you should see….”

As you’re speaking, Vanya opens the door to reveal a perfectly pristine, and quite cute, little apartment.

“Vanya, are you kidding me. This place is spotless,” you wonder aloud, standing in the middle of the apartment, arms spread to take it all in.

Vanya has never been more pleased by a sight.

“I haven’t really been home to clean,” Vanya admits, rubbing at the back of her neck. “Meetings, the orchestra, and...well...you.”

“Me? Keeping you from cleaning? How dare I,” you tease, reaching for Vanya.

She walks over to you and grabs your hands in hers.

The touch would have taken years to warm up to had it been anybody else

But with you, Vanya has never felt more safe or understood.

“Do you have any old movies?” You ask with a sly smile and Vanya nods.

“I’ll show you the collection and then I’ll get the popcorn.”

“Perfect.”

And the evening in is perfect indeed.

The two of you curl up on Vanya’s comfy couch, pecking at popcorn and watching horribly old films on a projector.

“You know, I haven’t used the projector in a long time,” Vanya muses quietly.

“Well, we’ll just have to correct that, won’t we?”

And you do.

Every Friday you and Vanya meet at her place to snack and watch movies.

It’s on one of these Friday’s when, after a long work week, you fall asleep on Vanya’s shoulder.

Your hair tickles the exposed skin of her neck and Vanya can not fight the urge any longer.

She leans in and presses the softest of kisses to your forehead.

“Goodnight, darling,” she whispers and lets herself fall asleep beside you.

When you wake up in the morning, Vanya is clinging to you and her chest is pressed against your own.

You smile, realizing that you could definitely get used to waking up like this.

Vanya can too, when she lifts her head to meet your eyes as your fingers comb through her long hair.

It’s the first time you see her with her down.

“You’re beautiful,” you both say at the same time.

A laughing fit ensues for the two of you, both still dopey from sleep.

“But really,” you press, lifting a hand to trail your knuckles lightly against the skin of her cheek.

“Thank you,” Vanya whispers, “you are too.”

You don’t kiss then.

You wish that you had.

Vanya wishes that you had too.

But you didn’t.

When you do though, it’s perfect.

At that point, you and Vanya have been together for close to a month.

You haven’t pushed the point of kissing, as you knew Vanya was stressed with everything with her book and music.

On one of those Friday evenings, Vanya calls you up to her apartment.

When you walk inside, you don’t see her anywhere.

You crept into her bedroom and find her, books scattered around her as she sits on the floor with tears in her eyes.

“Vanya, what’s wrong?”

When you get closer, you realize the book are old journals and littered in Vanya’s small handwriting.

“I was going through material,” she whimpers, “for the book...and...it’s so sad Y/N. I’m so sad.”

As soon as the last syllable leaves her lips, you’re sitting at her side, holding her as close as you can.

“Shh, hey, you got to be sad sometimes,” you whisper, “it’s life. But now you can be happy, put this behind you because it’s the past. Vanya, you will be okay.”

Every few minutes to repeat that.

“You will be okay, Vanya.”

You will be okay, you will be amazing. You already are.”

After a while, she stops crying and you wonder if she’s fallen asleep for her breathing is so even.

But then she lifts her head from your shoulder and looks into your eyes.

“You make me okay,” she whispered, “no one has ever done that before.”

You wipe at the lingering tears on her skin and offer her a half smile.

“Well, I’m honored,” you say, coaxing a faint chuckle from Vanya.

Her eyes hold yours, the gaze between you growing electric until, finally letting herself feel everything you have to offer her, Vanya leans in.

The kiss isn’t the best technically, at some points your teeth knocked but it didn’t deter either of you.

You could taste the salt of her tears on her lips and, as if to remove them from her flesh, you deepen the kiss.

You pulled her close, hands cupping her jaw as Vanya’s hands trailed loving paths against the skin of your arms.

When the two of you part, you’re breathless.

“I feel like that was more than okay,” you tease through shallow breaths.

Vanya nods, leaning in to peck your lips once more. “More than okay.”

The kissing gets better as the relationship continues to grow.

More dates and WAY more practice.

You write poems about Vanya, some of which you share with but some are just too poignant you hold them for yourself.

You help her proofread portions of her book.

Vanya dedicates the epilogue of her book to you, detailing how you changed how she perceives herself for the better.

The Friday movie nights continue on, although not many movies are watched to full completion.

Wandering hands and needy touches often divert attention away from the film shown on the projector.

When Vanya’s book is published, it’s you that suggests she send a copy to her father.

“It might help give you closure.”

You support her in improving her mental health through therapy and her pills.

When she goes to a local bookstore for her first live reading, you sneak a copy of the book and read it for yourself.

You go to Vanya with tears in your eyes, wishing she had told you about everything earlier.

She agrees and tells you the details she cut from the book.

There’s a lot of healthy crying and kissing and wishing you had met sooner.

“You know I love you, right?” You ask, eyes meeting hers through misty tears. “I love you, Vanya.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

When you sleep over at her place, you ALWAYS cuddle and somehow, Vanya ALWAYS ends up on top of you.

“You’re like a tiny heater.”

Teasing and puns because, when she’s happy, Vanya’s sense of humor is impeccable.

Late night evenings where Vanya plays the violin for you and you both sip at wine.

“You’re so good, too good,” you say dreamily, smiling up at Vanya.

Cooking together and trying new recipes when you’re saving money to travel.

“I think we should go to England...”

“But Germany! Pretzels! Beer!”

“Wow, you need to watch the travel channel or something.”

You write her a love poem for your first year anniversary.

You read it to her over a meal of your shared favorite take out place.

Vanya cries

You cry

Vanya got you tickets to your favorite band.

“I thought it would be a fun date. I know how much you love them.”

“Do you know how much I love you?!”

Your relationship isn’t without it’s bumps.

Sometimes Vanya just wants to be alone and you sometimes have trouble reading that.

She might snap at you now and again, but it’s mostly because she’s scared.

She’s scared that one day everything about her, surrounding her, her past, will be too much for you.

Sometimes you get moody due to writers block or stress.

You always talk about it, in either conflict.

You always come back together in the end.

There’s a basis of mutual communication and compromise that all of Vanya’s relationships (especially with her family) lacked.

‘You’re it for me’ you write on a slip of paper one day.

“A new poem?” Vanya asks, taking a sip of her coffee.

You’re in the cafe where you met for your usual breakfast date.

“Sort of,” you say with smile.

You don’t tell her about what you wrote or how the title at the top of the page was ‘wedding vows’.

You don’t tell her yet,

But that day will come.

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mcrmadness · 4 years

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Oooo, how about two from each of them? Fanfic asks: J and P, film asks: 15 and 16, music asks: 20 and 26.

OMG thanks!!! :DDD

Ask games: Fanfic asks, Film asks and Music asks. (People you can still send me asks if you want, asks are fun to answer to!)

***

FANFIC ASKS:

A little background before we get to the questions: I haven’t written too many, actually only 6 quite short ones (and one of them is a bit longer than usual) about Die Ärzte (Bela/Farin FTW) and all of these I have written between the years 2009 and 2012, so I was 18-21 which means they are not that good. And there’s lots of things I wouldn’t write anymore. I also have a WIP on my computer, I started it in 2012 but stopped writing altogether only to start writing again in the end 2018, it has bit over 28k words currently and tbh I have written 90% of that when I started writing again two years ago. I still have my old ones up on LiveJournal (ask for a link), but I haven’t published anything fron this later one as I’ve just been writing down all kinds of snippets whenever I have had an inspiration. I think those are also a lot better in quality than what I wrote before, the old ones are quite cringey.

J. What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

I guess we talk about those fics I have also finished, now. It’s actually hard to decide but I would say my favourite is either Why not even once? or The Boring Book Freak. I think the latter is actually The favourite.

The first one (was actually my second dä ff overall) is set to happen in 2003 and in that one Farin is leaving for another vacation somewhere and Bela wants to go with him, but Farin wants to travel alone and Bela is struggling with that, as well as with Farin finally leaving and having to somehow survive his time at home without Farin there. The writing itself is bit stupid and I feel that the end got bit too far but otherwise I like the idea.

The second one (came actually after the previous one) is set to happen in the early/mid 90s (my fave Bela/Farin era btw) and on that they just are at some random summer cottage. Now, fuck cottagecores and such, I wrote it because summer cottages are a thing in Finland and I wrote it when cottagecore was not even cool yet. Somehow I imagined that it would be very Farin-like to rent a cottage from the middle of nowhere, in a forest and then spend a weekend or so there with Bela. Who then is not entertained at all and is bored because Farin won’t put away his book and won’t give him any attention, so he tries everything to get Farin’s attention. I especially like the visual images this fanfic gives to me, I can see their hairs and outfits so well and those are also aesthetically very pleasing. (They look the same as in that Absolut Live interview from the 90s, I don’t control their looks with my fics usually, I just have an idea and then my brain creates how they look in that particular scene :D)

I have also written a short songfic around the lyrics of their song “Ich weiß nicht (ob es Liebe ist)” and it was fun to imagine that as Bela/Farin. That was fun to write.

This got a bit long so I put the rest under a cut:

P. What are your favorite tropes to write?

(Had to google what a trope is lol. I’m old-school and no longer know most of the terms unless they’re old terms.)

Angst - I put my own angst, sadness and angriness into my writing often. It’s when I feel like in real life I would need other people but I don’t know how to reach out or don’t just feel comfortable about opening up, I open up a file and start writing. This is also where we get to the next trope...

Hurt/Comfort - But not so that X hurts Y, but that Y feels hurt for other reasons and then X comforts them. I kinda got obsessed with this theme after being bullied at school so I was always hurt but never comforted, so I often go back to those feels and emotions with my text to look for that comfort (hug, nice words, whatever) I never got in real life.

Fluff - This is bit complicated because I like writing fluff but I also hate reading fluff I have written. Because it does not sound like me. And sometimes when I write, I feel like standing behind my own back and vomiting a little on the inside because of how cheesy and disgusting that is but still I can’t stop writing. And then I feel like a different person when I read them because I can’t believe it’s ME who wrote them. The same way when I watch movies and people kiss, I always look away. And I want to look away when I read my fanfiction. But I can’t, especially because I know I looked at that scene in my head when I wrote it.

Humour - I love humour so much and I like to include this to my writing. Normally I put the humour in my comics but some of that fits also in the regular texts too.

***

FILM ASKS:

These are super tough but also fun - I have been trying to think of what to answer to these for days.

15. A film everyone loves but you hate?

The Avengers (-12). Sorry but not sorry. Well I don’t hate it but I don’t understand why everyone says it’s the best Marvel movie ever. It’s not. It’s full of clichés and stupid forced heteroromances and whatnot and the plot was just so, so predictive I don’t understand why it’s often talked about as some sort of cinematic master piece. I literally was able to tell everything that was gonna happen next when I watched it for the first time. Only cool things in that movie are Loki and Iron Man, whose character I already liked as I had seen the Iron Man movie and liked it. But I hated both Thor movies (the third one is awesome tho).

I like Marvel and I have seen I guess most of the movies - before MCU all good Marvel movies to come out were The X-Men movies and Spider-Man movies, and because I saw so many terrible Marvel movies, I was avoiding the whole MCU and I got into these movies much later and still, after seeing them all, I say The Avengers is one of the worst ones. Thor and Thor 2 are pretty much even worse (and I haven’t even seen the Hulk movie because it looks terrible), mainly because I just can’t stand the fact they’re mainly just built around Thor and his love interest...

16. A film you love but everyone else hates?

Spider-Man 3 (or the whole trilogy with Tobey Maguire). I see we continue with Marvel here but seriously I don’t understand why everyone is always picking on Tobey’s version of Spider-Man? And people especially hate the third movie and how Venom was portrayed in it (I’m obsessed with Venom’s human teeth pls I want his teeth), when it’s actually the best one for me. The second one is bit boring because it was again all about whining and Mary-Jane... Anyway, the reason why I am so attached to these movies is that I saw the first Spider-Man movie from TV when I was a teenager and in junior high myself, and I was bullied and a bit of a nerd so I could relate to Peter Parker a lot, and it gave me just so much strength to see him become Spider-Man and to stand up against the bullies and other assholes.

I also saw the third movie in the movie theater and there was one scene during which I started hysterically laughing with my friend because of an expression Tobey made as he was sitting on a bed, I don’t know why but somehow I just totally lost it at that :D It still makes me laugh so much when I see it! And when the movie ended, I heard a The Killers song “Move Away” for the first time during the end credits and TK was one of my favorite bands at the time (and still is).

***

MUSIC ASKS:

20. a song that empowers you

It gotta be Dead! by My Chemical Romance:

youtube

This album was what got me through all the shit that happened when I was 15+ and especially this song always made (and still makes) me feel so good. I often listened to my old mp3 player while walking to school and back home and every time this song came by, I just felt like nothing can harm and that life FINALLY was so great! It’s so energetic and still makes me feel that living is actually super awesome.

26. a song that taught you a lesson

Hmmm. I think I will answer to this with Dusche by Farin Urlaub.

youtube

That thumbnail is terrible but... And why did I choose this song? Well, I’m all for the sound what comes to music and I’d say at least 80% of all lyrics go way over my head. I just don’t have the skills for understanding poetry and also very poetic lyrics make me go crazy. I hate not knowing and when I have to assume, guess and interpret something. I don’t want to guess but I wanna know what someone has actually thought.

Dusche was the first song that had lyrics that for the first time ever actually spoke for me. I probably saw some video with English subtitles a fan had made and it just blew me away because holy shit, people are capable of writing lyrics even I can understand??? And that way I realized I can like lyrics but only if they make absolutely no sense (aka are funny or somewhat crazy, like Dusche) or when they are written in a story form or sung from the 1st person view or to “you” or in passive - but only if I can get behind the idea there.

After Dusche, Farin’s song Porzellan followed. And one of my absolute favourites is Karten. So, Farin is one of the only few people whose lyrics I have been able to understand. I still don’t hear lyrics and don’t understand a majority of the lyrics my fave bands write, and I have understood only a couple of Bela’s lyrics and I’m not sure if I’ve understood any of Rod’s lyrics. It’s not even about the language barrier anymore really, it’s just the topics or wordings I cannot comprehend.

Thank you again for the ask! This was very interesting to ponder and answer to :)

#useless-blog-of-a-moth #mutuals #ask games #mcrmadness' random stuff

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