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mari-writes · 5 months

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Akaashi Keiji has a secret. One that he’s sure people might be surprised by if they found out.

He has a deep, prevailing love for classical ballet. He’s not sure when it started. Perhaps when his parents took him to a Nutcracker performance when he was barely eight years old. To this day, he spends hours of his free time watching videos online, and reads about the history of the art form. He even convinces his mother to take him to see live performances on occasion.

There's something so romantic and expressive about dancing. The way the dancers can convey emotion through their body, with no words at all—it’s absolutely fascinating. Keiji admires them so much. He wishes he could be like that.

He doesn’t tell anyone. He’s not ashamed, just cautious. Dance should not be a gendered interest, but alas, society is strange. His friends and most of his teammates already know he’s gay. No need to push the stereotype further, right?

What he doesn’t predict is that his best friend (and secret crush), Bokuto Koutarou, is apparently also a fan.

“Akaashi!” The older boy exclaims, right over his shoulder. “Is that the Australian Ballet?”

Keiji flinches, scrambling to switch off his phone. “Bokuto-san,” he scowls, “it’s very rude to eavesdrop.”

“Oh, sorry!” Koutarou plops down next to him. Their futons are close, much too close, and Keiji can smell his mint shampoo. It’s distracting. “But seriously, is it?”

Keiji shoots a nervous look around. Most of the training camp attendees are either taking turns in the bath or wandering around campus, enjoying the warm evening. Only Komi is here, casually lounging with a magazine on the other side of the room. “Ah, um, yes,” he nods. “You’re familiar with ballet, Bokuto-san?”

The other boy nods enthusiastically. “My sister does it! My other sister and I tried it when we were younger, too!”

Surprised, Keiji stares. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah! I still do exercises I learned back then. It’s good for flexibility and to strengthen muscles. People don’t know how much of a workout ballet is! It’s really hard.”

Again Keiji nods, awkwardly shuffling on his futon so that he and Koutarou are sitting thigh-to-thigh. “Would you… like to watch the rest of this with me, Bokuto-san?”

Koutarou answers with a beaming smile.

They make it a habit of watching dance videos together. Koutarou is surprisingly knowledgable about the different companies, even mentioning specific dancers and performances. It’s odd, only because he never watches or talk about it otherwise. Perhaps he’s shy about his interest, too?

It isn’t until one evening, when Koutarou is staying the night at his house, that he discovers the truth.

Keiji is eager to show his crush the souvenir program her purchased after seeing a performance of La Sylphide two years ago. He carefully passes it to Koutarou, wondering if the other boy will be surprised, or maybe even jealous that Keiji was able to attend such a special, sold-out show.

But instead—

“Oh! My sister was in this!”

Keiji freezes. He turns slowly to look at his friend, unsure if he heard correctly. “What?”

“Yeah, she was made principal ballerina that year!”

Keiji frowns. “Your sister… performed with the National Ballet of Japan?”

“Yeah!” Koutarou grins. “She was there for two years, until she went overseas. I miss her so much.”

“Wait a minute.” Keiji is having trouble trusting his own ears. Because it sounds like Koutarou is insinuating… but no, that can’t be it. Can it? Suddenly frantic, he flips through the program, until he find the cast profiles. He leans in to look at the lead female dancer. A familiar face in the modern ballet scene. He blinks, turning to look at Koutarou, and then back at the woman on the page.

Intense golden eyes. A wide, toothy smile. Silvery hair, with just a hint of black at the roots. “Bokuto-san,” he croaks, “is your sister… Bokuto Kai?”

Koutarou chuckles. “Well, yeah! That’s my Kai! Isn’t she so cool?”

Keiji chokes on nothing. He sputters, enough for his friend to reach over and pat his back consolingly.

“You okay, ‘kaashi?”

Is he okay? Keiji doesn’t know. The fact that his best friend’s sister is one of the most well-known ballet dancers in Japan, the world even, is actively shifting his reality.

“So… I guess you’re a fan?” Koutarou smiles in obvious amusement.

“Y-yes,” Keiji admits, thoroughly shaken. “I am. She’s incredible.”

One year later, Keiji is standing frozen in the threshold of his now-boyfriend, Koutarou’s family home. He’s been here many times, and spent time with most of the family. But the person at the door is not anyone he’s met before.

But oh, he knows her well.

“Ah, you must be Akaashi!” Kai Bokuto is short, the crown of her head barely reaching Keiji’s shoulders, but her immaculate posture seems to expand her presence. She’s wearing a cotton hoodie and leggings, her silver hair tossed over one shoulder in a long braid.

She’s a vision.

Keiji’s mouth drops open. He blinks. “B-Bokuto-san, um, hi! Hello there. You… um, I… well...” His words stumble out of him like dominos. He’s never felt so inarticulate in his entire life.

Kai laughs. “Please, call me Kai! I’ve heard so much about you. Come in, Keiji-kun!”

When Keiji finds his boyfriend inside, he greets him with a light punch to the shoulder. “You could have warned me she was here,” he hisses, “I just made a fool of myself.”

Koutarou snorts. “You’re such a fanboy!”

“Shut it.”

It turns out, Kai and Keiji have a lot more in common than a love for ballet. Both of them love literature, poetry and art history. Kai regales him with stories of her time in Europe—including her recent stint in Paris, thes city Keiji wants to visit more than anything.

They also happen to be quite protective of Koutarou.

“He’s very important to me,” she says, as they watch Keiji’s boyfriend hurry to help his mother in the kitchen. “He means the world to all of us, really. It doesn’t matter how tall or strong he gets—he’ll still be our baby Kou.”

Keiji grins softly. “Yeah.”

They exchange numbers that first night, and stay in touch when Kai flies back to France for her next set of performances. She regularly sends him photos, poems, news articles, and of course, updates on the Parisian ballet scene. They ask each other advice on outfits and home design.

“Ya know, I’m starting to think you like her more than me,” Koutarou pouts, one morning when they are curled up in Keiji’s tiny dorm bed.

“Are you jealous?” Keiji raises one eyebrow.

“Hmm,” Koutarou hums, “maybe a little…”

Giggling, Keiji turns in his hold, leaning up to touch noses. “Don’t worry, love. You’ll always be my number one star.” The comment seems to light a fire in Koutarou, whose face splits into a brilliant smile as he pulls Keiji in tighter. “Promise?”

Keiji smiles back. “Always.”

I love the idea that Keiji gets along great with Koutarou’s sisters, and admires them (almost) as much as his boyfriend. The idea for Kai being a ballerina was inspired by the beautiful artwork of Temari! I just can’t get the idea out of my mind.

Please, if you enjoyed this, reblog and comment! It really helps me out. 🥰❤️

#bokuaka #bokuto koutarou #akaashi keiji #my writing #writing #drabble #bokuto sisters #ficlet #oneshot #haikyuu!!#haikyuu

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ecoamerica · 17 days

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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ninjaneonleon · 8 months

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By the Light of Day

Start

“You’re telling me that I have another soul inside me right now.” Leo stared at Donnie, deadpan. He was obviously trying to hold back his panic and didn’t know how to process any of that.

Since having Leo here and properly aware, Donnie found his understanding of the lake and everything to do with the spell seemed to come more into focus. He knew what spell was used, how it was performed and why it was used in the first place. He remembered being Odette and dancing with his mother before the water pulled him under. He remembered waiting for Ilma for years but her never coming to her him.

But that was Odette’s soul telling him those things. Not Donnie’s soul. There was a difference, even if that difference was starting to fade the longer he was here. Just like how Leo’s soul was meshing with Odile’s.

“That’s the only sort of magic that could teach you and transform you like that, Nardo,” Donnie explained gently. He had to stay calm, not get too emotional. Leo needed support and stability right now. “You went from never having tried ballet to being able to pull off thirty-two fouettés in a row.” It was an impressive feat, now doubt. “Your body is already starting to reflect the extra soul inside you. You’re fusing. Like me and Odette.”

“Wait, your souls is fusing with Odette’s? Is that why you keep getting the other memories and why you’re getting paler?” Leo asked, worry colouring his tone. Of course Donnie’s self sacrificing twin would be worried about that part, not so much about his own problem.

“Yes, but my fusing is slow. It’s been two years, Leo, and I’m still myself… mostly.” Donnie knew he was missing things, that he wasn’t totally himself anymore, but he was still close enough. Leo had lost himself entirely for a period in just three days.

“Well, how do we fix this?” Leo asked softly, taking Donnie’s hands and fiddling with his now much slimmer fingers.

“I don’t know,” Donnie confessed softly. “You’re stuck with that potion until you fulfil your end of the ‘deal’ you make with Von Rothbart. And I’m stuck here indefinitely because no one we know can undo the spell.” Only Ilma could and from what Donnie could tell, she had died years ago.

“Well… if we’re stuck here, I might as well get comfortable.” Leo stood and walked delicately over to the water’s edge. Panic flickered at the edge of Donnie’s mind but he pushed it away. Leo wouldn’t hurt him or his lake.

Dully, he also recognised how wrong it looked for Leo to be en pointe so casually. Was this what it was like for his brothers when they saw Donnie walking around like that?

Leo took a breath before he closed his eyes. Donnie heard the music that started for his twin, the soft, almost melancholy tune that almost swayed in the wind. Leo started dancing, looking so graceful and beautiful. Despite the fact he was now a crow, he was as graceful as any swan Donnie had seen.

Leo danced and danced around a single point at the edge of the water. Donnie could only watch in awe as a small sprout started growing from the ground, getting bigger and bigger until it was a young weeping willow, bent over the water with its leaves tickling the water.

Leo stumbled back, panting as he rubbed his eyes. “I… I don’t know how it did that.”

“Neither do I.” Donnie had never seen magic like that… had he? Wait, no, he had. The lake spell. Odette and Ilma had danced together before the lake took Odette in.

“Do you have a nest?” Leo asked, startling Donnie out of his thoughts. “Because this looks pretty cozy under here.”

“We don’t need to sleep.” Donnie pointed out.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be cozy.” Leo pointed out, rushing over to Donnie and tugging him to his feet. He almost dragged Donnie over to the tree. He tugged Donnie down into a dip between the roots, curling up with him with a happy sigh. “I’ve missed you.”

Donnie got the sense that it wasn’t just Leo saying that.

“I’ve missed you too.” Donnie murmured back, nuzzling against his twin. Odette’s soul almost sang with recognition as she recognised Odile was nearby.

Even as the sun rose and both Leo and Donnie transformed, they didn’t separate. Leo, as a little crow, just got comfortable on Donnie’s feathered back and nuzzled his way under his wing. Donnie held him a little closer, his neck bending gracefully over Leo’s form.

They might not need to sleep but Leo was right, that didn’t mean they couldn’t be comfortable. They’d figure this out, but for the first time in years, Donnie didn’t fear the sunrise.

—————

Part 6! This has really outgrown what I had initially planned for, but I’m actually really enjoying doing a little solo writing. It’s been a while

EDIT: part 7

Swanatello belongs to @tangledinink

Crownardo belongs to @dryad-druid

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #fic writing #crownardo #swanatello

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drewsbuzzcut · 1 year

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Dangerous

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic… read hook, line, and sinker before this part

warnings: mentions of an injury, small very minor angst, small mention of food

*At the pizza place*

“I know I already said that you’re a natural when it comes to modeling, but I just can’t get over how seamless you are when it comes to all the different poses. You must be really flexible,” mat comments.

“It’s funny you say that. I actually used to do ballet. I started at a really young age- maybe 3 and it was the love of my life at the time, of course. I actually got injured at 15 and I was never able to get back to normal,” you say solemnly.

“So you went into modeling? That explains why you weren’t a child model or something like that.”

You nod your head in agreement, “yeah. It’s crazy because everyone in my family, even friends, would always say that I belonged in the modeling industry. I guess that was true. I wouldn’t change things. I love modeling. It’s probably the best thing to happen to me,” you finish your small story.

“I’m sorry about your injury, but I’m glad you’re in your rightful place,” mats speaks.

“It’s ok. It’s weird, though. You’re the first person who noticed my flexibility. No one I have ever met or worked with has ever noticed.”

“I’m glad I noticed because if I hadn’t, I would never know that little story about yourself,” mat is so sincere with his words, it makes your heart melt. Also making you grow a new appreciation for this handsome man that just came out of nowhere.

“What about you? You’re probably flexible too,” you guess.

“Not really,” he chuckles.

“I don’t think I can do a split or an even a high kick,” he continues.

“I don’t think that’s true. The way hockey players move during the game means you definitely have to have some kind of flexibility even if it’s a little,” you add in.

“You watch hockey?”

And you were caught.

It’s not like you didn’t want it to be a secret that you watch hockey, you just didn’t want mat to think that you were lying about knowing who he was when you met him for the first time.

You truly didn’t know anything about him, but you knew that he looked familiar. When he told you that he played hockey, the puzzle pieces weren’t hard to put together- especially because you had just been at an islanders game the past week.

“Occasionally. I’m more of a baseball person, but i watch hockey every now and then, live or on tv,” you inform him.

“Another interesting fact about you. What team do you root for?”

“If this is your way of asking if I’m a rangers fan, you’re not slick,” you tease with a wicked smirk.

“Well, I’m not a rangers fan. I actually quite enjoy the islanders,” you finish.

“Hmm… I like that answer.”

“Ok, hotshot. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.”

You both laugh at the same time before trying to calm down and breathe in some air.

It was crazy how easily you could laugh with him.

There’s a pause in conversation as you both take drinks from your cups and bites from your pizzas.

It’s a comfortable stillness, you’re taking in the nice evening you’re having with mat and secretly hoping you can do it more in the future.

“I actually have to tell you something,” you say slowly, trying not to worry him, but also being worried yourself.

He nods his head for you to continue.

“When you had told me that you played hockey, I kind of figured out who you were. When I met you, you were so familiar to me and the hockey thing made everything click. I did know you. Well, of you. I recognized you from the game. I hope that doesn’t freak you out or anything,” you blurt.

“It doesn’t freak me out nor does it bother me. As long as you don’t look me up or anything crazy,” mat responds.

Huh. Why didn’t he want you to look him up?

“Yeah , of course!”

“I am so full. Did you want to get desert?” Mat asks.

“I will have to take a pass on desert. I’ll probably just eat some fruit at home,” you answer.

“Sounds good! Well as much as I enjoyed shadowing you for the day, and trying your recommendation for pizza, I have an early morning tomorrow so I should get home.”

“Oh yeah! I don’t want to keep you too long or ruin your schedule,” you tell him.

“Do you live far from here?”

“Not really just a couple of minutes from here actually.”

“Mind if I walk you home?”

You heart melts just a little bit. He is so sweet, you think to yourself.

“As long as you don’t leak my address,” you tease.

“No promises,” he teases back.

As you’re walking back home, it’s silent but it’s only because you’re thinking about how good this day has been and how you hope it was just as good for mat.

“I guess your job isn’t exactly private either,” you speak your one nagging thought out loud.

“Not really. Which is why I wasn’t necessarily surprised when you said you had recognized me. Although, I’m sure my life is a bit more private than yours,” you’re now wondering if he thinks you had lied about knowing him when you first met. You hope that isn’t the case.

“Kind of. Especially when I’m pictured out with other famous people. I did a shoot last year with Bella Hadid and that sort of skyrocketed my career in the right direction, so now I’m always having the paps follow me, but only when they think I’m doing something secretive or interesting,” you explain.

“That’s crazy. I’m only recognized on the streets every once in a while.”

“You’re still recognized, though.”

“True. It’s honestly weird to be known,” mat said.

You nod your head in silent solidarity.

The conversation fades after mat’s last sentence, but the silence is comforting. It allows you to soak in mat’s charming and intense presence. You almost don’t realize that you had just made it to your home.

“Looks like this is me,” you interrupt the silence.

“I’m not sure I’m ready to leave you just yet,” mat responds.

“Dito. Today was really nice.”

You both are facing each other, not daring to break the strong eye contact. He brings his finger to drag it along the length of your forearm before stopping at your wrist. Your heart is pounding. You’re afraid it might jump out of your body in attempt to land in his large, warm hands.

“I enjoyed today. Best day I’ve had in a while. This may be a bit forward, but will you go out on a date with me, y/n?” Mat pulls you a tad bit closer to him.

“Hmm… you’d be pretty lucky to get to spend another day with me.” You lightly poke at his chest.

He laughs and walks backwards down the steps of your building. He has the cockiest expression adorning his face and glint in his eyes.

“I’ll see you next tuesday at 6:30,” mat exclaims.

“You’re pretty confident, hotshot,” you fire back, a bit of shock and amusement displayed on your face.

“Got to match confidence with even more confidence,” he says referencing your undying confidence.

“HA! I’ll see you at 6:30. Don’t be late, barzy!”

“You’re a dangerous one, y/n,” mat finishes with one last smile as he watches you go inside, patting himself on the back for successfully getting a date with you.

a/n: it’s been a little bit since i posted the last piece but hope you enjoy this part!!

#mat barzal #mat barzal fic #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fluff #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fic #new york islanders

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pigeonwhumps · 6 months

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Homecoming

Immortal Cannon Fodder masterlist

Taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @extrabitterbrain @wolfeyedwitch @whumpinggrounds

At the age of eleven, Gemma was forced to attend a boarding school for powered children due to the potentially dangerous nature of her powers. Now she's eighteen and finished school, she's coming home.

2.1k

CWs: referenced minor whump, past abuse, difficulty coping, fear of abandonment, mentioned abandonment, touch-starved, mentioned public punishment, past isolation, fear of punishment, very brief flashback

Gemma steps down from the coach, blinking rapidly as her eyes attempt to adjust to the harsh sunlight. It's July, the end of the school term, and she's finally leaving Meadows Ridge for good.

There's few people around at the drop-off point at the edge of the city. A gaggle of nosy onlookers, curious to see what the notorious 'school for heroes' has produced this year, and a few family groups. Not enough for everyone being dropped off though. A lot of families... don't want their powered child back.

And there'll be provision for those who have nowhere to go, for appearances sake, but she's sure it won't be nice.

She hopes her parents are here. Please, please let them be coming. They said they would, she wrote them a letter and they promised, but they could be lying, it doesn't matter how well they treat anyone else because she has powers and so they can treat her how they like and no-one will care. They never care.

Gemma clutches her parents' response tight in one hand and Sophie the stegosaurus in the other. They said they'd come. She has to believe that.

It's been seven years. Will she even recognise them? Will they recognise her? Will they just... not know it's her and go home and abandon her to even more of Meadows Ridge's care?

She swallows a sob. No. No, they can't do that, please, she can't spend another day there. They have a photo, right? Right?

But nobody calls her name. The coach drives off, leaving one of the teachers behind to collect stragglers, and still nobody calls.

She's distracted by an old, brown car sputtering up the hill. It's polished to a shine but it's not moving very well. She wonders if they'll have to get out and push.

They don't, the car eventually jerking to a stop in the car park, but it's close.

Both front doors open at once and a man and a woman exit, arguing. Their conversation drifts up to Gemma as they head for the payment machine.

"This is why we divorced! If that rusty, banged-up old box made us miss our daughter's homecoming I'll kill you!"

"You say everything was why we divorced, Jemima. Just let me finish paying for parking so we don't get a ticket."

"Screw ticketing, it's been seven years, I need to see my daughter."

Gemma covers her mouth with her hand. Jemima. That's her mum's name, she knows it is. And the car...

They went to ballet practice in it, once, and it broke down halfway. How is it still functional?

"Mum?" she croaks. "Dad?"

She thought she was quiet, but the man turns and– is it? Is it him, is it, is it?

He swallows. So does she. She's rooted to the spot, she can't move, stuck like she's in class and someone's power is holding her there. She can only watch as he drops his wallet and starts to run.

He almost collides with her, stopping at the last minute and placing his hands on her shoulders instead. She flinches, and he starts to withdraw but–

"Don't. Don't let go, please."

She barely recognises her own voice, it's been a long time since she's tried making a request to anyone her senior, but her dad listens. His hands are big and warm and she moves closer, letting him envelope her.

It's hard to keep herself from tensing, flinching, she can't see what he's doing but– it's her dad. And she sinks into his arms, trying to hold back tears.

It's been a year since Aisling left Meadows Ridge, longer since Ethan. And although she's happy for them, she hasn't had a hug since. They're the only two people in that place who ever touched her with affection, with something not carefully calculated to hurt in the worst ways.

"My little gemstone. Oh, I'm so sorry we sent you there."

Gemma shakes her head and cries. She shouldn't be crying, she's an adult now, she should be in control, she doesn't want to get into trouble, but there's absolutely nothing she can do to stop it now.

She was going to be strong for her parents. She was going to pretend that nothing's wrong, nothing happened to her, she's fine. But all that's out the window now.

Another hand touches her shoulder-blade, above her rucksack, and she jumps three feet in the air before remembering who's there. Her heart pounds.

"Sorry. Sorry."

"It's okay, baby girl," her mum murmurs. "I didn't mean to startle you. Shall we go home?" Gemma nods. "Do you have any more luggage?"

She shakes her head. This small rucksack is everything. She wasn't going to bring her school uniforms, aside from the one she's been forced to wear today, and she's not a fan of the regulation pyjamas or free day clothes either (not that she ever got many free days). There's a box with letters and homemade presents from Aisling and Ethan, and messages from her parents, and a copy of the contract she signed this morning, but that's it. She's carrying Sophie.

What would be the point in bringing home things she hates? It's not like she needs a notebook filled with school rules, painstakingly copied out in an empty white room with an ache inside her and heavy metal on her wrists.

She clings to her parents as they make their way to the car. She's an adult now, but right now she doesn't feel it, and she doesn't want to be taken away from them again.

The car is familiar, with that lingering old-smoke smell that still hasn't faded and the seats that are so soft but she knows have zero suspension. She climbs in the back and kicks off her shoes and socks immediately, the hated things, the itchy and scratchy blazer going next.

She's never wearing socks again.

Then she curls up against her mum's side, stroking Sophie. The stegosaurus is old and worn and very, very well-loved after all the years, the side she's currently stroking almost worn through with the constant nervous movement.

"Some of the family were planning to come for tea later, to celebrate your return, but we can postpone it," says her mum gently. "If you're not up to it, they can wait."

"It's okay. They can come." She can't refuse anything. She knows the consequences, even if they're not likely anymore. But anyway. She can handle it. It's only her family. It's not like a public punishment or anything. Just a few hours of eating and talking and whatever else.

It will be fine.

It turns out that it is not, in fact, fine.

Every laugh sounds like they're laughing at her. Every time someone raises their voice she thinks they're shouting at her. Every time the dishes clink too loudly, when someone drops a fork, she thinks someone's made a mistake, they're going to be punished, publicly, or she'll be punished in their stead if she speaks out. She tenses every time someone says her name, not used to it being called neutrally. The food is too rich, it has flavour, it's no longer beige, and she feels sick.

Someone proposes a toast to her, and she doesn't know what to do. She doesn't know what's expected of her. All eyes are on her, and she tries not to cringe away, to flinch from the chorus of voices. At least she manages not to break into a flood of apologies and pleas.

She can't even fetch a plate for herself, too worried about doing it wrong and being punished to try. Someone else has to do it for her, and she murmurs a thanks but doesn't really notice who it is. She can't speak loud enough to be heard either, not after seven years of being punished for it. Not that she's sure she wants to be heard. She mimics the facial expressions of those around her, hoping to convince them that she's doing fine, she doesn't need any help, they can stop looking at her weirdly now. No need to be hostile. No need to hurt her.

The tension thrums through her as she tries to cope. She's got to cope. Why is it so hard?

And this is only a buffet, in front of people she knows (thinks) (hopes) mean her well. How can she ever get used to being around people again?

She can't. She can't. She knows people will be disappointed (of course they will be, they always are, for someone like her disappointing people is the best she can hope for because at least it's not anger), but she slips away, up to what used to be her bedroom, what her parents say is again. The bed's too soft but the dark blue walls with the dinosaurs are nice and calming and she nests instead, climbing into the centre of the pile of blankets her dad helped her make earlier (when it was so desperately obvious what she wanted but she couldn't move to do it herself, she couldn't, the rules in her head wouldn't let her). She curls around a mound of dinosaurs and sobs.

She should've shut the door, but she couldn't bring herself to, that level of privacy isn't allowed, and she can hear the sounds of people still celebrating downstairs. Doesn't seem to matter whether she's there or not then.

There's footsteps on the stairs and she freezes. Step-clunk. Step-clunk. That's the sound of the dorm manager coming to get someone, a cane always on him. She wonders who it'll be and hopes, guiltily, that it's not her.

Someone knocks on her door. She doesn't respond. She doesn't really remember how. She's not sure it actually matters. Nobody ever knocks on the door of someone like her.

The knock sounds again.

"I'll leave you alone if you like, gemstone, but not unless you tell me that," comes a gruff voice. "Those schools don't teach autonomy."

Gemma jolts. She's not there anymore, is she?

"Granda?"

"It's me. No company."

She scrambles to sit up, wiping the worst mess off her face. "Come in."

Her granda limps into the room and sits down on the edge of the bed with a groan. "After my son was forced to send you to that place, I had hoped they'd improved since my time. But your friends, and your face, suggest not." He eyes her critically. "You look terrible."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologise, my girl. There's nothing wrong with actually looking traumatised."

Gemma doesn't say anything. She can't object, but she knows it's not true. Instead, she changes the subject.

"My friends? You've met them?"

"Met them? Gemstone, Aisling stays with us when she's not off learning to be a doctor. We haven't heard from Ethan for a couple of years though, of his own choosing. Your dad's gone to pick Aisling up from school so I don't know how long they'll be."

Gemma swallows. Ethan... she hopes he's alright.

"And– and you? You said you..."

"Aye. First generation to do so. Powers must've skipped a generation. If your parents had asked my advice I'd have told them not to get the prenatal power tests done, but alas." He sighs heavily. "At least we have you back now."

Gemma isn't entirely sure what he's talking about, and he doesn't seem to have realised. "Can I ask you something? Please? I don't want to, to annoy you or anything, sorry, I–"

"Go ahead."

"How did you recover? How do you cope? I can't even have dinner with normal people. Maybe I should've just stayed there, because I don't know... how do you not fall apart?"

He smiles, a little bitterly she thinks. "I do fall apart. Life is hard. But if you want advice from an old codger like me, take it slow. One step at a time. One day at a time. Get whatever help you need and don't be ashamed of that. Don't drown yourself in regret, it won't help, believe me. Don't be scared to do what you need to do, don't give up if you slip back sometimes, and never be ashamed of who you are."

Gemma's not much of a person to be proud of, by herself or anyone else, but she thinks that maybe she can manage not to give up just yet.

#whump #whump writing #immortal cannon fodder #gemma oc #whumpee and caretaker #superpower whump #hero whump #multiple whumpees

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kayandthegoldendays · 1 month

Text

the days are spinning on this tiny island and I feel so grateful. it feels like it’s been ages since I returned from Nicaragua but it’s only been two full weeks (going on almost three)!

when I landed the babies came fast and furious so I was in survival mode getting through my first wave of March babies. In between the chaos, I met back up with my knitting circle, went on amazing long runs, caught up with every friend new and old before swapping to night shift for this week.

I went to work smiling in bliss and it’s still carrying over which reminds me of how powerful rest is.

yesterday an old friend called to tell me of her fears, entering into a new career field but unsure of what and the overall transition of life she’s in. I listened intently and offered reassurance.

in the last few weeks it’s been a constant theme hearing friends vocalize how much they dislike their work, or desire to pursue work they’ve always wanted to…maybe this is thirties?

And as I thought about this, I recognized what a damn privilege it is to have fallen in love with my work at a young age. I vividly remember being told I was absolutely bonkers…there was a solid five years there that I panicked thinking I should have chosen something more tidy…more linear with a path that gives a start and an end.

but each decade I fall more deeply in love with my work and I sometimes become worried by how moved I am by it because it will never be a vocation that …. can equally give back. it’s one that is so deeply rooted in serving women and children. but I have decided that I would rather be all in and learn to sustain myself with loving boundaries than choose anything else that doesn’t light up my world the way this work does.

the fall semester is coming so soon and I am a bit nervous but it feels so reaffirming to know that I’m chugging along towards the dream. catching babies on my own 🌸

1) my custom nail color!! it’s a blend of ballet slippers and egging it on.

2) I finally purchased new sneakers!! first pair of non-running shoes since 2019.

3) my little brother is having a baby 😳 so I’m knitting a baby cardigan for my new project

4) I am firmly in the middle of my training plan and the half marathon is in April!!!!

#personal #doula to midwife #kaywillbeadnp #kayandthegoldendays #joyful

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auspicious-manner · 2 years

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Hi! I love your stories. Can you a story where Dodge and the reader visit one another while they are at their personal hobbies (Dodge, his rodeo stuff and with the reader dance classes). And they spend some quality cuddling (or something?) time after they are done with their stuff because they been busy with panic and that stuff.

thank you so much! hearing things like that make writing worth it for me. not the likes, reblogs, or comments, but the people that like what i do ❤️ as an ex-dancer, i’m super excited to write this one!

female reader x dodge

warnings: super short mentions of losing a loved one

Passionate

•

panic was an extremely time consuming game. it was always so hard for Y/N and dodge to get together given their conflicting schedules with the games. on days without challenges, dodge would practice and participate in rodeos, and on his days off, Y/N was always at dance.

people always asked them why they stay so busy all the time. and every time, both would answer the same thing: it was their passion.

dodge liked the thrill of the rodeos. he lived for the roar of the crowd as he was flung every which way while riding the bull. it gave him an adrenaline rush like no other.

Y/N loved the freedom and exploration she felt with dance. whether she was doing ballet, jazz, or contemporary, her day would feel incomplete if she didn’t do some kind of dance. the movement felt therapeutic to her.

outside of the games, they agreed to not talk about panic. talking about it together made them even more stressed. instead, they put all of their fear into their activities.

this upcoming weekend was a long one for both dodge and Y/N. on saturday, dodge had a rodeo tournament he was participating in and on sunday, Y/N had a dance competition a few hours away. unbeknownst to each other, they planned on surprising the other at their events.

dodge’s tournament was only an hour away, so Y/N gladly drove to surprise her favorite boy. he let her know what times he was competing, and she hurriedly drove down the interstate when dodge said he was competing in the finals soon.

she arrived at the stadium and parked her car, wandering the arena until she spotted dodge’s cowboy hat and back in the distance. when he didn’t hear her sneaking up behind him, she gave him a hug around his waist from behind.

dodge flinched, and he turned his head to see the outline of his girlfriend. “Y/N?” he asked, turning around to fully face her and lift her into a hug. he smiled ecstatically at the sight of her. she moved her arms so they were wrapped around his neck. “what are you doing here?”

dodge set her down, and Y/N grinned from ear to ear. “i came to watch you, seeming as i haven’t been able to in a really long time.”

he placed his hands on her shoulders. “i’m so glad you get to be here to watch me in the finals. i’m the last to go.”

“i’ll probably stick around for the results, and leave after that. i would totally spend the rest of the night with you, but i have my competition in the morning.” she briefly paused. “i really wish you could see me tomorrow.”

dodge had previously told Y/N that he wouldn’t be able to see her at her competition because he was going out of town for a few days. in reality, the only reason he was going out of town was to see her.

“i know, sweetheart,” he said gloomily. “i wish i could be there too.”

“dodge, you’re up in five!” an older man yelled. dodge looked at him, and looked back at her. “guess that’s my cue.” he said to her.

she leaned up and kissed him. “i’ll be rooting for you the whole time. good luck, don’t be nervous, you’ll be great!” Y/N said quickly before patting his chest as he turned away, a blush creeping on his cheeks. dodge went over to the gates and got ready to ride the bull.

Y/N leaned against the fence. she would never admit it to dodge, but every time he participated in a rodeo, she was scared for him. what if he fell and got seriously injured? she always tried to push these thought into a box in the corner of her mind. she just had to trust that dodge knows what he’s doing.

when it came time for dodge’s turn, he climbed onto the bull. Y/N noticed him take a deep breath in before turning his head and winking at her quickly. then, the gates flew open, and dodge was off.

Y/N gripped the fence tightly, cheering dodge on. she held her breath, hoping he was able hang on. dodge was flung every which way, but remained stable on the bull. after what seemed like ages, he fell to the ground and the crowd let out a cheer.

he stood up and waved to the crowd, Y/N clapping and yelling for him maybe the loudest of them all. he immediately left the field and approached her with the widest smile on his face. both dodge and Y/N knew he gave the performance of a lifetime.

she gave him a double high five. “that was so good!”

dodge held onto her hands after the high fives. “i did it for you.”

shortly after dodge went, it was time to announce the top five cowboys, along with the winner. dodge held onto Y/N’s hand tightly, waiting for the awards. fifth place, fourth place, and third place were announced, and dodge was not one of them. both Y/N and dodge knew his performance was worthy of top five, so he had either gotten second or won the rodeo.

the couple tensed up just as second place was announced. when his name wasn’t called, they knew dodge had won it.

“and winning the texas rodeo championship in the junior division is dodge mason from carp, texas! along with his title and trophy, he will be receiving a $500 cash prize.” the announcer said, causing the crowd to go wild.

dodge and Y/N hugged once more. “i’m so proud of you!” she told him. they let go of the hug, and dodge went back into the dirt field, waving to the crowd like a superstar. Y/N watched him in his element. this was his happy place. she just wished dodge would be able to watch her in her element.

the next morning, Y/N woke up bright and early for her big dance competition. she didn’t get home from dodge’s tournament until late, and was running on only a few short hours of sleep. as it wasn’t a team competition, she was performing just her solo for the judges. her mom never liked to attend the competitions, so Y/N was all on her own for the day.

she did her stage makeup in her bathroom before she left, and her hair. the makeup look was a regular smoky eye with dark red lipstick. her hair was left down for her solo, so all she did was lightly curl her hair and spray it with hairspray to look like natural beach waves.

she put her costume on, which was a plain black dress. her solo was a contemporary piece, and in the dance, she was playing a character. she was playing a person who had recently lost a loved one. before performing the solo, she would always listen to sad music and really get into the character so it looked as authentic as possible on stage.

she threw her team jacket and sweatpants on before leaving the house, and she got in her car to drive three hours away to the competition. little did she know, dodge was also on his way there.

the entire car ride there she spent getting into character. today, she was out to win. she wanted to have the same feeling on that stage as dodge did at his tournament.

she arrived to the convention center hours later, and found a place to park her car. the place was filled with mothers and their children in tutus and costumes, and the booming music coming from the room with the stage. Y/N made her way through the crowd to the dressing room, where she could touch up her makeup and hair and warm up.

meanwhile, dodge had pulled up to the convention center, and had to quickly make his way to the audience without being spotted by Y/N. he walked in, made sure the coast was clear, and got into the audience. she found a perfect spot not too close to the stage but not too far away. before sitting down, he was given a program that laid out the schedule for the dances, and he saw that Y/N’s solo was only three more dances away.

Y/N had warmed up and stretched, and she ran through her few tricks. she was nervous, because she had yet to win this dance season and she so badly wanted it this time. the closest she had gotten is third.

two dances before hers, a girl in her division performed her solo, and it worried Y/N. it was incredible. as much as she hated it, Y/N couldn’t keep her eyes off of her. she knew that soloist would be a contender to win.

then, another solo was performed, and then it was time for her to go onstage. the announcer called her name and the name of her solo, and Y/N got into position on stage. she tried not to think about the other girl that had just performed.

dodge watched as his girl took the stage. the instrumental music started, and Y/N was immediately a different person. he watched as she conveyed the feelings of loss through movement. it was an insanely emotional piece, shown through her graceful thrashing that signified the pain of losing a loved one. the movement wasn’t just regular movement, it was telling a story.

she moved effortlessly across the stage. she showed off her legs with a few elegant kicks, and her ability to soar through the air when she jumped. the dance wasn’t filled with many tricks; her beauty came from her style, movement quality, and meaningful choreography. the lighting hit her features in a stunning way, and really elevated the whole experience.

as dodge watched, he saw the pain in her face and eyes and she danced. it was a truly moving performance. by the end, he found himself on the verge of tears simply because Y/N had given a spectacular performance. when she hit her final pose, he saw tears streaming down her face too. the audience grew silent, letting what they watched soak in before erupting in applause.

Y/N stood and smiled before taking a bow and running off stage. dodge removed himself from the audience to go meet up with her backstage. he walked out of the room, finding the door from the outside hallway labeled “dancers only”.

when he got to the stage doors, Y/N had just come out. she saw him and took a step back, not realizing it was actually him.

“dodge, you came!” she exclaimed, running into his arms. he lifted her off the ground, and she asked, how are you here right now? i thought you were out of town!”

“i lied. when i said i was going out of town, i meant i was going out of town to see you.”

she paused. “you watched me dance, right?”

he set her down. “i did, and you were incredible. that was the best time i’ve ever seen you dance. i almost cried.”

Y/N laughed. “you did better than me, i was crying onstage. that’s never happened to me before. i guess i just got really into character this time.”

dodge took her hand as they walked down the hall. “how do you think you did?”

“i feel really good about it. the girl that went on shortly before me was amazing, but i hope my score is enough to beat hers.”

dodge shrugged. “sure, she was good. you were better, though.”

“only time will tell.”

they had another hour before the awards began for her division, so dodge took Y/N out for a nice lunch. it had been a long time since they were able to do something like that because of panic. they had missed each other’s company.

afterwards, it was time to head back to the convention center and wait for awards. Y/N sat on the stage with the rest of the competitors while dodge watched from the audience once again.

the time came to announce the senior division soloist winners. as they announced the top ten, Y/N waited patiently for her name to be called.

they reached the top three, and when Y/N’s name wasn’t called, she knew it was between her and the other girl that was amazing for first place.

“there was only 0.05 points separating second and first place. for these two dancers, know that you left it all out on the stage and you should be proud no matter what. now, can we get a drum roll…” the announcer said into the microphone.

the audience stomped their feet, and the dancers onstage pounded their palms on the stage below them. Y/N prayed her name wouldn’t be called for second.

“and in second place with a score of 299.85 out of 300 is Y/N L/N!”

Y/N’s heart sunk, but she didn’t let her expression show it. her competitor had won first place only 0.05 points ahead of her. she stood up and took her second place plaque, smiling into the audience. she was happy for the other girl, she definitely deserved it. but that one part of her was crushed that it wasn’t her.

after the awards, she met up with dodge again. he approached her, dismally.

“hey, second place is still amazing. you beat, what, like seventy other dancers today? that’s impressive.” dodge told her.

she looked down. “i know, and i am truly happy with second. that’s the best i’ve done this season. but i really thought i had it this time.”

dodge stepped closer, placing two fingers under her chin and tilting her head up. “keep your head held high. you made me proud, and you made yourself proud. you gave it your all, and that’s all that matters. you may not have gotten first, but you won in my eyes.”

Y/N smiled. “you always know how to make a girl feel better.”

dodge smiled back. “we’re both champions.”

#mike faist #mike faist imagine #panic on prime #mike faist x reader #mike faist fanfiction #dodge mason imagine #dodge mason x reader #dodge mason

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interact-if · 2 years

Text

Day 4 of our Asian and Pacific Islander Heritage Month Featured Author Interviews, continuing with Jinx!

Jinx author of Elsinore: After Hamlet

Once upon a time, a prince avenged his father’s death. If only he could have foreseen his own.

The year is 2021—or maybe 1602? Hamlet the Younger has just tragically died and Fortinbras the Younger, King of Norway and newly-conquered Denmark, has a lot of cleaning up to do. Elsinore: After Hamlet is a text-based interactive fiction exploration of William Shakespeare's Hamlet as a plague text and a reckoning of Asian American identity during these trying times. Also contains bad puns and glowing text.

Read more about Elsinore: After Hamlet here.

Play the Game Here.

Tags: Fantasy.

Jinx is also the author of The Harrowed and the Hushed and Rougi.

[INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT UNDER THE CUT!]

Q1. Hello! Could you tell us a little bit about to yourself and your project?

Hi! I’m Jinx (she/her), longtime listener and first time caller, writer, and lover of the cute and the gothic.

I’ve always loved writing and first got into interactive fiction during the first lockdowns in 2020. I fell in love with the medium and it’s been such a wonderful adventure since. My first project, Elsinore: After Hamlet,deals with a lot of the frustration and uncertainty I felt during that time as an Asian American with the rug pulled from under all of us. I’m currently working on The Harrowed and the Hushed, a low fantasy murder mystery set in Victorian London, and Rougi, a social intrigue mystery about a cursed ballet in Belle Époque Paris. I really enjoy working with illusions, intrigue, and how we can find ourselves in the strange and monstrous.

Q2. What inspired your current project?

My current projects, The Harrowed and the Hushed and Rougi, are rooted in my undying love of the late 19th century and gothic literature – I love me a good dramatic mystery too, which I’m sure comes as a surprise to absolutely no one. H&H draws a lot from the genre of sensation fiction, which aims to elicit physical reactions in its readers with sensationalized, page-turner plots. The genre traditionally deals very heavily with metaphors of social and identity anxieties, which also made it a very natural source of inspiration for me since those are themes that I really love exploring with my writing. H&H is essentially a love letter to a lot of things I adore, garnished with references to Gothic, Romantic, and Decadent literature, plus my own cultural spin on things. (If you were wondering if some of my characters were named in homage…the answer is probably yes.)

Rougi, which was my entry to interact-if’s January game jam, really came from me looking at color theory and running with it. Based on the “red herring” theme, I knew I wanted to do something with a very strong aesthetic component, so I went back to my bunhead roots and turned it up to the max. I love ballet and as a former dancer, I felt like drama backstage and onstage was the perfect backdrop for a mix of possibly supernatural, definitely interpersonal intrigue. Also, Art Nouveau is so gorgeous and I wanted to write about pretty things (possibly with ugly insides wink-wonk).

Elsinore: After Hamlet is my very first IF project and a real testament to the tangled state of mind I experienced for the bulk of 2021. That spring was so chaotic – lots of sleepless nights and worries gnawing at me from the inside out. E:AH originally started as a final project for a class on medicine and literature, and very quickly became a surprisingly intimate way for me to create some kind of catharsis while the world seemed to fall apart. (Shoutout to the professor who was very chill with me submitting literal plague doctor memes for class discussion, she made Zoom U much better.) I am a self-professed Shakespeare nerd, and looking at one of my favorite plays through a very personal, emotional lens was such an intense experience. I didn’t expect that the development process would break me out of the apathy I’d fallen into at all, let alone so fiercely, but it was a welcome change from feeling scared and dissociated almost constantly.

Q3. Do you pull from your own identity for inspiration? How has that been reflected in your work?

My identity definitely influences how I approach narratives. E:AH was a direct product of the stress I felt juggling my responsibilities as a student, pressure from the pandemic, and my fears as an Asian American woman in a space that became incredibly hostile and unstable. It’s really a slice of how I was experiencing life at the time, and I hope that resonates with players and gets them thinking. For Asian players, I hope that E:AH is a cathartic experience; for non-Asian players, I hope that it shares a different, impactful perspective.

As a kid, I really fixated on the few instances of Asian representation I found in media, so as a creator now, it’s incredibly empowering to be able to include characters who reflect my own experiences and hopefully connect with my audience too. Decentralizing whiteness, particularly in traditionally eurocentric narratives, is very hard-baked into what I create. On a lighter note, food as a love language is also a big cultural influence on my writing and that definitely shows, haha. I’m a huge foodie IRL as well, so coupled with my synesthesia, my writing definitely falls heavily on the sensory side.

Q4. What are you most excited about your project?

E:AH is deeply personal and combines two of my greatest passions (Shakespeare and ~ being melodramatic ~), so while it’s a little scary to have something so near and dear to me out on the internet, I’m absolutely blown away by the response it’s received so far. I’m super excited to see how the playing experience changes (for me personally and in general) over time – I can already foresee it becoming a little like a diary entry preserved online.

As for the two projects I’m currently working on, I am so excited to see how players react to the twists and turns I’m writing into Rougi. I was a little overambitious when planning it out for the January game jam I crafted it for, so I can’t wait to flesh it out fully. Rougi is also my first project written in Sugarcube, so the transition has definitely been a learning journey and I’m excited to show off what I’ve learned.

With The Harrowed and the Hushed, I think I’m most excited about sharing all the lore I’ve built up. Fantasy is the first genre I fell in love with, so getting to create and share my own magical vision is really, really cool.

Q5. What has your experience writing an IF and with the IF community been like?

My introduction to IF came during a lot of turmoil, and the community has been so friendly and supportive. It’s been a blast diving into all these amazing projects and meeting lots of wonderful people! Learning to code has been fun frustrating a very unique and rewarding journey, and it’s seriously such a fantastic feeling to see all the pieces – drafting, Twine-wrangling, writing, UI building – fit together to make a final product. I’m so thankful that my experience with the community so far has led me to make very dear friends and interact with kind and thoughtful readers.

Q7. What piece of advice would you give to fellow creators?

*Shia Laboeuf voice* JUST DO IT. No, but seriously: your story is uniquely yours and there is no one better to tell it. Storytelling is such an intrinsic part of human history and I think it’s one of the most beautiful records of our presence and our world. Despite the obstacles and frustration that comes with being a creator, there’s nothing like the satisfaction of fulfilling that scene you’ve been dying to write, or finally nailing the code you’ve been struggling with. Take care of yourself, and always remember the excitement and passion that led you to where you are now. I’m rooting for you!

That, and don’t code or debug when you’re sleepy. The bug will still be there (unfortunately) after you sleep, and you run far less risk of falling asleep at your computer and waking up to several pages of random characters in the middle of your stylesheet or having to hunt down every time you misspelled a variable…I may or may not be speaking from personal experience.

#if: events #API 2022 #Asian and Pacific Islander Heritage Month

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farfromstrange · 1 year

Text

Foreigner's God | m.m

Matt Murdock x avenger!OFC

Chapter twenty-seven: Dear Reader

Read past XXVI here ° series masterlist

Summary: Her friends find the letter when she is already long gone and Matt just about loses his mind. The hourglass has been turned and their run against time has officially begun.

Warnings: ANGST, Matt crying, self-hatred, Foggy is trying to hold the pieces together but they're all falling apart, that's it, that's the chapter

a/n: IVE BEEN FEELING FESTIVE PEOPLE (and with that I mean motivated to give you this filler chapter this weekend instead of next like I had it scheduled, and this one hurts just as much as the last because I can and I want to) ALL BECAUSE OF CHARLIE SO SAY THANK YOU CHARLIE!! If only I had the same motivation for school…

“Never take advice from someone who's falling apart" I felt that. You felt that. Matt felt that. Eliza felt that. The Avengers felt that. We all felt that. 'Cause blondie speaks from the soul and inspires my writing like she's my thesaurus, which she is, technically.

Dear… Everyone?

I didn’t have the guts to write for each one of you separately, it would have hurt me too much, so the coward I am, I chose to pack everything into one letter. And there is really not much to it other than what I wanted to tell you: I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything, and I’m sorry for leaving.

When you read this, I’m probably long gone. I can’t tell you where I went, but I know I won’t be coming back. Not in this life, at least.

Natasha, Steve, Clint, and Sam, you came back to help me and I appreciate that. You risked your freedom and your lives to help me stop Hydra, and we fought great together. You told me the truth and I was angry, but I have chosen to forgive you because it is not your fault what my father or Hydra did to me. You didn’t deal with this the way Tony did, so I forgive you, for whatever that’s worth now that I am gone.

If you want to be angry at me, that’s fine. I just realized that if we want to win this, I can’t be around you because as long as I’m around you, Hydra won’t stop and we won’t be able to stop them. It’s almost like ballet; we’re dancing around each other and the chances that one is going to give up before the show is over are basically zero.

Fighting Hydra was never going to work, I realize that now, so I chose to leave, and you should too. I will handle this on my own, the way it’s supposed to be. They want me so I am what they’re going to get. I’m finishing what I started seven years ago. It all started with me, which is exactly why I can’t stay around and have you guys risk everything for me when I know it’s never going to work out. If I stayed around, one of you would die, if not all of you and we’d still lose because once you’re gone, I have nothing left to fight for. They would get me and then they’d win. I can’t let them do this, so I’m going back to my roots and I will demolish Hydra. I have to be the one to do it because I’m the one thing that keeps them going. I’m the one who keeps them alive the way they are right now. That is why I left. It’s not on you, it’s not on anyone but myself. I started this and it is time for me to face the truth head-on.

I want to be a hero one last time.

Natasha, you have always been more than a friend to me. You are my sister. You got me out of this hell Hydra put me in, you helped me get a life, held me when I needed it and you saved me when I was at my lowest, drowning in drugs and despair. You saved my life, Natasha, so many times that I lost count, and I owe you everything for that. I owe you my life. The way I treated you was not fair. You have always just wanted to protect me, so I was wrong to assume you would keep the truth about me a secret because you wanted to hurt me. I know you and you’re not like this. You are my sister and you always will be. Don’t blame yourself, it is of no use. It’s not your fault, I made up my mind, and you couldn’t have stopped me even if you tried. And I think you know stopping me before it’s too late is a near impossibility too, so I urge you not to try. Don’t hurt yourself, it’s not worth it. I’m going to say something I have never said. I love you, Natasha, not in the romantic sense but in the way family loves each other. Platonic soulmates, if you will. Thank you for everything that you’ve done for me and please, once this is over, take care of yourself in exile. Maybe try to get the entire team back together, who knows when you might need the Avengers to protect the planet again? They are your family too, so fight for it, I know you want to and you can. I believe in you, I always have. I love you so much, my dear sister.

Steve, there is no easy way for me to say this, but you are the best leader this team could have. I am not a leader, you were right, I’m just desperate. I wasn’t made for this, you were. You’ve been through hell, but you’re still standing. That is remarkable. Your wisdom has kept me going the past few weeks, keeping me sane… every time I look in the mirror, I think of how you would tell me to keep going and not just lay down and stop fighting. I never stopped fighting, thanks to you. You trained me physically, but you also allowed me to vent to you and you told me things that I keep close to my heart. You helped me get in touch with Bucky, and you hated yourself after he almost killed me, but it wasn’t your fault. What happened to Bucky wasn’t your fault. I know you need to hear this, so I’m telling you. You are a great leader and an even greater man, don’t let anyone tell you differently. You are Captain America, so take a stand, do what you need to do, just don’t put yourself in the line of fire to protect me. We both know you are much too valuable for that. I’m sorry to you too, for undermining your authority time and time again, and for not listening to you when I should have. I hope you can find some sort of peace in me telling you all of that. Stay strong, Captain, and never fucking change. I know I used a bad language word, but I know that you secretly love me for my bad mouth. (On second thought, that sounds wrong and I apologize. That wasn’t very professional. But then again, have I ever been professional? I doubt that.)

Sam, I’m going to be frank with you, I barely know you. But you were a soldier who served this country and I salute you for that. You’ve been to hell and back and if Steve trusts you, I trust you too. So you need to remember this: take care of them. You’re the least involved with me, so take care of them after I’m gone. You can catch them, you can make sure they don’t do anything stupid and keep them in check, and you can bring them somewhere not even Secretary Ross can catch them. I trust you to do this for me, and I know you will follow because we’ve always understood each other well. You are the one I put my trust in the way you have put your trust in me whenever we went out on missions. I hope you promise me this once you read it and that you keep that promise. Take care of them, please. That’s all I ask of you. Thank you.

I saved you for last, Clint because I wasn’t sure what to write. I had many conflicted feelings about my words. Unlike with Natasha, it’s hard for me to describe what our relationship was like and what I cherish about you because there is just too much. I cherish you, not just your acts. You always took care of me in a way that wasn’t too much or too little. You treated me like a daughter, introduced me to your wife and your children, and they even call me auntie. I can’t have children, so this means a lot to me. I consider them my siblings but at the same time, I enjoy taking care of them in a way I will never experience for myself. Watching you and Laura gave me hope, it always does. You are proof that there are good-hearted people out there, even those suffering from trauma. You are an excellent shooter. You taught me so much, I think my head will eventually explode with all the lessons you gave me, but that’s what makes me so good at what I do. You taught me how to shoot and you taught me how to be an Agent, not just a spy. You taught me that love is stronger than anything else and that blood doesn't define family. By taking me to meet yours I have learned that it’s true.

You don’t have to be related to feel at home with your family. A family is a home, and I felt at home with you. Thanks for the many Christmases, the gifts and the food, and the love that you spread. The time I lived with you after rehab shaped me. I was broken and you and Nat picked me up, but Laura taught me a normal lifestyle, and farming with you was fun too. Without you, I would probably still be using drugs. And you know how much it means to me that I no longer am that person. I love you, Clint, and I will always do so. Thank you for everything. Give Laura and the kids my love and please, for the love of a God I do not believe in, hold onto Natasha. You need to hold onto her as she does to you. Only like that will you be able to move on.

What I’m going to write next you will have to read out loud. Natasha, I suppose you’re holding the letter? Well, give it to Foggy because this is something that concerns Maverick and Goose.

My dear, beloved, too pure for this world Foggy. Franklin Percy Nelson. Wow, I really don’t know what to say. Thank you for being my friend. We haven’t known each other that long but from the moment you stepped into that interrogation room after I got arrested I knew you’d bring some fresh wind into my life. You are pure, you are not tainted by the scars and trauma of war, and you do not fight bad guys to survive. You’re just you. Beautiful, adorable, insufferable you who don’t care about boundaries but only because you want to take care of the people you love. You know when to push someone and when not to. You do what’s best for others, you help them and you sometimes forget yourself, and that makes you honorable. I wish I could have gotten to know you sooner, we would have made a great team, and maybe my life wouldn’t have been so dark and dull back then. You made me smile while I felt the world was falling apart and for that, I have to thank you. You didn’t deserve to be dragged into all of this, but I’m glad you were there nonetheless.

Remember what I asked you to promise me? I want you to do just that. You know what I mean.

I want you to read this part out loud now. He can’t see it and I don’t know how to use his Braille writer, but he deserves an explanation too. He deserves it the most, out of all the people in this room. I think he will be coming back because you called him, Foggy.

Matt kept hitting the sandbag hanging from the ceiling at Fogwell’s. His hands were wrapped, though blood already started seeping out of his bruised knuckles. He wasn’t sure how long he had been hitting that bag, it must have been a couple of hours. The anger was still very much present and with every hit, he only got angrier. His grunts and silent screams filled the space. His voice echoed. He could hear his heartbeat. His punches accelerated.

Suddenly, his phone rang. It called out Foggy’s name. He considered not taking it, figuring Eliza wanted to apologize and he just wasn’t ready for that. He didn’t want to face her, he couldn’t be around her, it just hurt. He was in pain, the physical kind not even helping to cover his emotional bruises.

Still, he answered the phone.

“Matt, where the hell are you?” Foggy asked.

“Fogwell’s,” he said, panting from his intense workout that was nowhere near finished.

“Come back.” There was something in his voice and his faint heartbeat on the other end that had him halt the bag with unease.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against the cold leather. “What happened?”

“It’s Eliza. You should come home.”

He had already grabbed his suit by then, her name and the missing context causing the worst scenarios to clog his mind and he needed to be there to make sure Foggy was just exaggerating.

He wasn’t.

He probably trained at Fogwell’s to get rid of his anger that is directed at me, no doubt, and then he sprinted back to his apartment because you called him and he thinks I’m dead. He always does that.

“Where is she?” The door barely fell shut before he yelled out, “Where is Eliza?”

He’s standing right there, isn’t he? And he’s disheveled and angry and worried out of his mind. So tell him about the letter. Tell him that I am not dead, not yet.

“She’s gone,” Clint said. Natasha was a whimpering mess on the couch.

Foggy lifted the letter, knowing Matt could hear the paper rustling, heavy with ink. “She wrote us something a-and you’re next,” he said. His face had turned pale and he was struggling to hold back the tears. “She wants me to read it to you. That’s why I called you here, you need to know.”

“No,” Matt breathed. He tilted his head to listen. “No. You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

Matthew. I’m sorry. You have no idea how much regret has filled my chest just now. No apology in the world could fix what I’ve broken, but I want to try. I want to do as much damage control as possible so the world doesn’t swallow you. You’re listening for my heartbeat in the city right now, aren't you? I know you are.

He was. He listened but he couldn’t find her, not even her smell lingered in the air. She was gone.

You probably blame yourself even though I was the one who hurt you, and now you’re scared of losing because I walked out. I promised I wouldn’t and I still walked out. I promised we’d try to be together and I ruined that too. I screwed up, I know that, but this is me. This will always be me. I am incapable of relationships and I hurt the people I care about because I’m scared.

I can control the fear of everyone else but not my own and that is scary as hell.

Ever since you can remember, people have walked out on you. I told myself I would never do that to you, but I realized that by walking out, I would save your life, and that wasn’t a hard choice to make. Between staying and leaving, I took the one that would be the safest option for you. I made the choice that would keep you safe because you are the one who’s in the most danger. I brought you into this and I hate myself for it. I hate myself for tearing down your walls, then shooting you right in the heart, and stomping on the wound. I hate myself for using you for my own agenda and to get rid of my emotional peril. And I hate myself for not being able to love such a kindhearted, beautiful, selfless, and most of all, good man.

You deserve so much better. You deserve someone who loves you, someone who would do anything for you, someone who can give you back what you give them. I’ve only taken from you since we met and I am sorry for that. I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done to you and more. Mostly though I am sorry that you had to meet me and fell in love with me because you did not deserve the kind of pain I put you through, and you do not deserve the kind of pain you’re about to be in. I knew from the beginning this would eventually happen and I still kept going.

For a short time, I believed we could do this together and still win, but I have realized that by staying, I will only ruin more than I will fix. We can’t work together when it means that you are going to get hurt or possibly even killed. I would never forgive myself for that.

So you can hate me if you want, Matthew. Go ahead, let it out, be angry at me and curse me in front of your God. I deserve it and the lord knows it too. I am still not religious, but I believe that a higher power will bring upon me what I deserve. By hurting you, I dug my own grave. By hurting you, I made myself want to jump into that grave, bury myself in the dirt and eventually run out of air and go to hell. That’s how much you mean to me. So hate me, Matthew, hate me, and then love me and then hate me some more until I am out of your system and you can move on. I deserve it, I do, and God knows that too. He does, I have no doubts about that. Because only a heathen would hurt a man like you.

If I die, I will die knowing that I’ve been loved by you, which is a compliment of the highest order and fills my heart with adoration. I will always remember all that you’ve given me, what you’ve provided and how you’ve taken care of me when I was at my lowest. Thank you, Matthew, for being you. Never change. Move on and be happy, I insist. I’m sorry for having put you through this, but everything’s going to work out in the end. Happiness is still in the cards for you. You just gotta have faith. Knowing you, that won’t be a problem.

So this is it. This is the last you will ever hear from me. I’m so terribly sorry. None of you deserve this.

Please, don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.

I’m sorry.

Yours truly,

E.B.

With one swift move of his hand, Matt wiped the dining table clean. All the objects on top of it were sent flying to the ground and against the wall, breaking porcelain and glass. The scream he let out was gut-wrenching. Everyone flinched.

He had his hands on his hips, hunching over. He couldn’t breathe. The world around him collapsed. She was gone, really gone, not even with his entire attention focused on filtering her heartbeat or scent out in the city, he could find her. She left him, she left them all, and she was more than ready to die.

Foggy walked up to him slowly. The tears finally made their appearance. Seeing his friend in pain was too much. “Matt,” he said.

He shook his head. “No, no, she can’t be gone. She isn’t gone. I…”

“She left, Matt. She isn’t coming back.”

“No…” his voice cracked. “She’s done this before, right?” He turned to the Avengers who looked anything but like this happened before. “Tell me this has happened before or I swear to God-“

“This hasn’t happened before,” Clint said. His face was motionless, his features set in stone. There was no telling what he felt.

He shook his head. “God!” His fist landed on the tabletop again. “This isn’t like her. She would never… she promised,” the sound could have made angels cry.

Matt’s knees buckled. He barely caught himself on the chair before he broke out into tears. Foggy had never seen anything like it. He had seen him cry, sure, but never like this. Matt had never cried so hard he could neither talk nor breathe, and his body had never vibrated like that before. He was just one ball of disappointment and pain, and he didn’t know what to do.

Foggy wrapped his arm around him, hugging him, and that only made him cry harder. Matt clung to his shirt with desperate hands.

Natasha rocked back and forth on the couch. “This is my fault,” she said.

“What?” Clint asked.

“This is my fault!” She jumped up. “She asked me to get her the info on her father’s whereabouts that I have.”

“You didn’t give it to her, did you?” Steve questioned.

Natasha looked down. “I…”

“Natasha!”

“I’m sorry, she said she wanted closure and I understand that. I got closure. I met with my family and got closure. She deserves it. I didn’t think this would happen.”

Matt lifted himself from the chair, out of Foggy’s arms. “How could you?” he asked, cheeks wet from the tears. “You know how unstable she is. You saw her! And you gave her the information anyway?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I take full responsibility. This is my fault.”

“Yeah, it is. If she gets hurt or she dies and I have to bury her because you’re not gonna be there, her blood is on your hands.”

Foggy placed a hand on his shoulder. “Matt, that’s not fair,” he tried to soothe him. “We’re all sad, no need to yell at her.”

“No, he’s right,” this was the first time Natasha agreed with him. “Her blood is on my hands. She’s not just looking for her father, we told her that Hydra took him in search for her and he only got out two years ago, bringing her file to Tony, and then he disappeared. She isn’t looking for him to reconcile…” her lips formed into a thin line to stop herself from crying the following words, “She’s looking for him to get Hydra to come to her, and then she’s going to let them take her so she can destroy them from the inside, which means she is more than ready to die.”

Matt grabbed his mask off the floor. “Fuck this!” he grumbled under his breath. He stormed toward the stairs.

“Matt, wait-“

“No, we tried it your way! And I- I am not going to stand here and accept that she’s gone, not after that letter, not after-“ he breathed heavily, “not after I said the things I did that I didn’t even mean. I won’t stand here and wait for the inevitable to come. I’m going to find her, I’m going to use all that I have to find her in this godforsaken city and then I’m going to get her back ‘cause that’s what you do for the people you love. You don’t leave them hanging, you don’t mourn until they’re actually dead, so don’t! Don’t try to stop me. I’m leaving.”

He stormed out like he always did. This time though, Natasha wasn’t ready to just let him go. Foggy wanted to follow him, but she stopped him.

“I screwed this up,” she said.

“Damn straight you did!” Sam shot back. “What the hell were you thinking anyway?”

Clint agreed with him, his fists clenched at the sides. The letter had hit him hard, he just didn’t know how to deal with it. “Yeah, that was completely stupid and brainless, let alone unprofessional,” he said. “You knew this would happen. You knew, Nat, and you did it anyway.”

“I didn’t know!” She desperately tried to defend herself.

“Deep down you did,” even Steve stood against her now.

It wasn’t fair. “I just wanted to help.”

“You just made it worse.”

“Don’t you think I know that?! None of us could have predicted this, let’s be honest. We figured she was slipping away, but this? None of us could have predicted this!”

“Natasha’s right,” Foggy dared to speak up. “We couldn’t have predicted that she was just going to grab all of her stuff and leave to play the hero alone, not after working with Matt.”

“Thank you!”

“Let’s just all take a breath and focus on what’s important.”

“We need to find her,” Clint said. He grabbed his bow. “I’m going to join Matt and we’re gonna find her.” He wasn’t willing to accept this, not yet. “There is still hope, we can still turn this around. He’s right, we can’t just stand here.”

“No, not yet,” Natasha stopped him. Without another word, she took the stairs up to the roof and was gone before anyone could say something.

She found Matt kneeling on the ledge, head tilting wildly. He tried to filter out Eliza’s markers, but she was nowhere to be found. He tried and he tried and he tried and he drove himself insane. The city was so loud, too fucking loud, and he couldn’t get a clear picture. Not this time, not with his breathing loud and clear in his ears, and his heart beating up to his throat.

Natasha let the door fall shut loudly. “Leave,” he growled.

“No,” she said. “We need to talk.”

“There is nothing to talk about. You gave her the information that made her leave. You did this.” He didn’t even turn around to snap at her.

“I know I did this, but I didn’t do it with the intent for her to leave. If anything, I wanted to help her so we can put all of our differences behind us. Please, Matt,” she said and she hardly begged, “I need you to believe me. I didn’t know. I just did what I thought was best for her.”

He ran a hand over his face. He hated that she was right, that she wasn’t lying. He hated that he didn’t hate her, not even a bit. It wasn’t her fault, he just needed someone to blame.

She could tell he was listening now. “I gave her the information, which means I still have it. We can try to retrace her steps and understand her train of thought. But for that I need you. You know her better than anyone right now, so we need to work together. If we want to find her before it’s too late, we need each other.”

He slowly rose back to his full height. “So you want us to work together?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure we’ll find her in time?”

“I’m not sure we’ll find her before we find Hydra, but we’ll find her in time. If we find the Hydra facility, we find her. We just have to be fast.”

He threw his head back, sighing. “Ah, I hate this.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. I just can’t wrap my head around the fact that she’s just gone and our last conversation was a fight in which I told her I wished I’d never met her. That was a lie, I’d never wish that. I…” he sniffed, “I love her, and that just became frighteningly clear.”

“I love her too,” she said, “that’s the one thing we have in common.”

“Yeah.”

“So are you coming?”

He stepped down, walking toward her. He reached his hand out. She eyed his face first, then his hand. She took it.

“Team?” he asked.

“Team,” she said.

“C’mon, let’s get the others.”

“Wait!”

He frowned. She hesitated for a second before she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and squeezed him briefly.

“We’re gonna find her.”

Matt leaned into the hug, wrapping his arms around her middle. He needed that.

“We’re gonna find her,” he repeated her words. “We’re gonna find her.”

PS: Don’t try to find me. If you do, you’re only going to get hurt and that’s the only reason I’m doing this in the first place, to prevent you from getting hurt.

I left because this is what’s best for all of us. I finally get to pay my dues and none of you get hurt. I have to wipe out the red in my ledger somehow, right?

I want to feel human one last time before these powers consume me or something else happens, and what is more human than dying?

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augment-techs · 1 year

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What happens now? Do we have another go?/Do we bow out and take our separate roads?- Allies or enemies by the crane wives

Kim and Sharkie

(I'm not gonna lie, this was really hard and after five drafts, this was also as far as I could get without tossing my computer out the window. I apologize.)

Of course since Tommy had a tragic backstory, it really did stand to reason that maybe Kim had one too.

Not tragic, not fully in the style of Shakespeare or Bronte, but...less than idyllic.

Kim was made for the bright lights, big city setting of Los Angeles; born and raised, and raised in the manner of the upward mobility of her family money and "good breeding" as her grandparents used to say when she saw them at holiday parties that included fake snow on pine trees three stories tall and covered in decorations that cost more than some families made in a year. She went to ballet when she was three and moved onto gymnastics when she was five; had the best tutors and trainers and parents who (she thought; was pretty sure) loved her and only wanted the best.

She also went to a private school before they moved to Angel Grove, from kindergarten to Freshman year, with her best friend that, well...

Sharkie reminded her of Bulk and Skull, when she thought about her between being a Ranger and her so-called "normal" life.

Pretty girl with a petty, mischievous attitude, a preference for nonconformity that often left her in trouble with teachers, and a complete disinclination to ever use her real name--though why, Kim never understood; Stella Angel wasn't such a bad name.

(It was the roots that the name carried that the girl didn't like to think about. If she had told Kim...well, she might not have fully comprehended what it was to be an immigrant and an abuse survivor, but she might have been more sympathetic. Even though there was no certainty in that, either. Kim could look back and realize she was rather innocent in her sheltered life and in that way, ignorant.)

Sharkie picked Kim up off the floor in gym class the day she got her first period and thought she was going to die, the other girls sneering and giggling and the teacher trying to keep Kim calm as she hyperventilated. Sharkie just told the others to get out of the way and carried the tiny brunette princess style into the shower room so she could rinse off and calm down, and handed her a thick pad for the spare underwear she yanked out of her own locker (they were cute and purple with a pair of pink ribbons sewn into the sides no bigger than a dime) and asked rather calmly if she would have preferred a tampon, "Since they last longer and you won't have to freak out if the pad leaks a little."

Kim had been too out of sorts to really think about it at the time, except that she didn't want to put anything inside her that looked like it would hurt, and the instructions weren't very helpful. Sharkie had merely shrugged and gave Kim a couple for later in case she changed her mind.

She walked out to tell the teacher Kim could talk to her, and spent the rest of the week tormenting the "little bitches" that tried to give Kim a hard time about something, "Totally normal; not her fault her parents weren't looking out for her with basic information."

Kim had her own sort-of friends, and her parents had their expectations of her that kept piling up and stifling her as they got closer and closer to the date she wasn't yet aware of that marked their moving to Angel Grove and away from all that she knew, but she tried to be something close to friendly with the girl that had looked out for her best interests in her own abrasive little ways.

They had lunch together in the art room sometimes, Sharkie chewing on a tongue sandwich between drawing charcoal shadow monsters and breaking glass and ceramics just to paste them back together into something else entirely that looked both scary and wonderful; kind of like her.

They went to the mall, sometimes, when being at home got to be too much for Kim, trying to block out her parents sniping at each other, and Sharkie sometimes goaded her into trying out new styles; grunge and punk and extremely femme or academic or--something that nobody would ever see the pictures of or Kim would walk directly into the bottom of the ocean--honest to god southern gothic. Everyone at school gave them a wide berth for a week when they made a bet that Kim couldn't handle wearing so much black and makeup and Sharkie couldn't handle going for something so pastel and girly.

They both lost because it was the summer five days before Kim's parents told her they were moving; Kim came close to suffering heatstroke and Sharkie almost caught on fire from showing so much pale skin without remembering to put on sunscreen for the boardwalk or getting Kim to go to the fair before it moved on.

When Tommy talked about Tyler and growing up in New York in the aftermath of her being so fucking mad at him for going off on his own to infiltrate a secret society of ninja, she didn't let up on her pouting and guilt tripping, but she could understand the need to do what you could for someone that cared about you when you didn't know you needed someone like that.

He showed her a photo they took at one of those little booths for tourists, tiny and with clothes too big for them, but happy in the moment with each other.

Kim showed him one similar, but not quite after the Eltarian War and the new surge of rebuilding sites and feeling like she kept missing running into a familiar face she almost didn't think about so often, phantom feeling of her hanging out in the girl's bathroom that almost none of the teachers went into, smoking a joint with the dates Bulk and Skull had at their failed Homecoming.

"A drug Renaissance in Angel Grove? Really?"

"Yeah, I know, it's fucking stupid, but Grace asked if I--if we, actually, because I am not good at this--could look into this on the down-low because the police are worthless and some of Grace's employees are worried about their kids dropping like flies at the college."

"Is it really that bad?" Matt steepled his fingers like the roof of a house before waving them a little back and forth, thumbs hooked and reminding her--awkwardly--of a little child trying to make shadow puppets.

"Bulk beat the shit out of some guy that offered to sell him some last week for distribution after the guy had already tried his luck following Skull around like a creep and asked basically the same thing but, like, the wrong way? And the poor bastard reported him to the school security guard under the impression that he was gonna snatch some Freshman. So, yeah, I'd say it's pretty bad."

"No, I meant the drugs--although, thank you for that information; that actually explains...some stuff going on with those two," the two of them keeping court with the other loners and stragglers and being less impulsive and more protective lately came to mind, but Kim needn't comment on that when Matt knew too, "Anyway, is it something like meth or cocaine?"

"Eh, I think it's more like some fast acting roofies? Terona tried to explain it like I'm five, but all I got was that the first symptoms are usually waved away as just general dizziness from drinking, followed by either lowered or increased body heat, and then blacking out of memory even while conscious at the time. Most of the people reported not remembering anything beyond looking for water or a bathroom and then waking up in various states that heavily implied assault. Two college students ended up in a coma because the offenders used to much of the drug and just left them to the elements after...Just after."

Kim sighed, thinking of all the schoolwork she already had piled up, the little class of beginner gymnasts as Ernie's she needed to teach the next day, the promise to take Aisha on a girl's only shopping quest after realizing both their closets were in sorry need of improvement...

Still, she was getting better at doing the right thing, and the words just fell out with as much ease as anything else in her life, "Yeah, yeah. Lemme just talk to the others. Maybe me and Billy can get Bulk and Skull talking about the party circuit they mentioned and we can grab an invite without seeming too suspicious."

Salt and water poured in a glass and pressed to her lips.

Between the swallow and the burning of the vomit it brought up--bright blue, never a good sign when she'd been drinking her precious color from the wine cooler selections she'd heavily watered down--Kim was aware of the girl holding her hair back and the look of distaste across her face as she told Skull to get Bulk and start clearing out the drugged drinks (bless him, bless him for noticing and getting someone with more experience; she'd hate to think what would have happened otherwise).

When she was done vomiting up the foam and toxin, and blinked at the other girl, Kim suddenly felt as though she'd scratched open an old wound without realizing it.

"Hope you didn't develop an eating disorder with all the monsters that run around here, Kimmy."

The hair was longer and wilder, the clothing not too different from what Kim expected the girl to grow into liking, the makeup popping in such a dark shade compared to such gray skin. The accessories of silver hoop earrings and black pewter knuckle rings shouldn't have drawn Kim's eyes, but they stood out in the kitchen as she slowly came back into some semblance of her right might and kept her from looking directly into the other (beautiful) face.

Then she doubled up and puked on the combat boots that went thigh high and looked expensive, yet well used.

"I was kidding."

#ask fill #prompt fill #boom! comics power rangers #MMPR #mighty morphin comics #ggpr #go go power rangers comics #Sharkie #Kimberly Hart #eugene skull skullovitch #matt cook

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limetimo · 1 year

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I posted 7,613 times in 2022

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#i am a s l u t for james looking at feral!regulus and going he's so lovely 🧡🧡🧡❤️❤️🧡💚🧡❤️💚🧡❤️💛💛💛🧡❤️💚🧡❤️💛😳💚😳😳😳😳

My Top Posts in 2022:

couldn't recall Timothée Chalamet's name so I googled "timothy chameleon"...

27 notes - Posted January 5, 2022

You know what, I think the reason why the Snitch is worth 150 points is rooted in siblings bullshittery.

It was originally worth 15 points, and then playing in the backyard some eldest sibling was a sore loser and said it was fifty not fifteen, which later changed to hundred and fifty when somebody was updating the official rule book. They accidentally combined the 15 and 50 thing, and everybody just went along with it.

Brought to you by a random memory of my older sis changing Monopoly rules to suit her

28 notes - Posted April 17, 2022

am I curious enough to go there

35 notes - Posted May 4, 2022

RAB fics I read (13-22nov)

En Avant by bluerosebouquet oh my gooood. This one is *chef kiss*. Modern AU, James is trying to cope with losing Lily (reasons unknown) and raise Harry who's like 4 with the help of his whole friend group. Then Sirius gets a word that his brother Regulus is back in town and is really upset about it and refuses to make contact when Regulus passes on his phone number. BUT SURPRISE SURPRISE REGULUS IS THE BALLET INSTRUCTOR IN THE DANCE CLASS THEY SIGNED HARRY FOR! And James just can't see the monster Sirius made Regulus to be. (We learn all that Black Brothers Backstory in like chapter 23.) And they start talking, and James catches feelings, and he battles with the guilt of betraying Lily's memory as well as betraying Sirius and it's just really interesting, I love it.

Deep Blue Waters by ThatBlueNiffler Regulus gets himself sorted to Ravenclaw to escape his mother's machinations and not join the death eaters only for Grandfather Arcturus to be like "Sup kid you're going to become a Death Eater so that you can spy on them". slowburn Jegulus (they catch feelings pretty early on tho)

Black Moon by ouzell Regulus survives the cave, makes a deal with dumbledore, becomes a spy, tells his mum to go fuck herself, gets himself kicked out, and becomes roommates with Remus Lupin. basically Oh My God They Were Roommates but in the middle of a war

Let’s make the most of this by jelfulry !!! Trans Sirius texts a wrong number and catches feelings for the dashing Moony, also he has a son named Leo because teen pregnancy, and James and Regulus are dating

Wildflower by orphan_account Remus/Regulus smut, pure, easygoing smut

A Passing Dream by Elfflame Lily walks in on Regulus blowing Remus in an abandoned classroom

career goals: tyrant by justwhatialwayswanted :D :D :D

Waters Run Deep by knight_bus_of_doom :D :D :D !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Whatever I Want (Whatever That Is) by xylodemon remus and regulus have a secret sex thing going on

When did you last check? by camichats james: we're dating / sirius: wait what? impossibel *founces away to bother regulus* / Regulus: go bother your boyfriend / Sirius: the betrayal??? / James: :D

The Long Game by lackadaisical_lizard modern high school, jock james and artist Regulus get roped in the theatre club production! ft. Remus&Regulus friendship and monstermachine Lily

Pyrrhic Victories by dollteeth It's not Regulus' fault nobody else can appreciate a good Quidditch tactics

Toujours Pur (of Heart) by Nillegible for nitilia Regulus wants to say goodbye before the cave, Sirius shows up in his animagus form

(Not) Always Brave by Nillegible why was Sirius afraid he would betray James and Lily if they made him their secret keeper? it was simple, really - he still cared for his brother.

The Serpent's Tongue by Equinesandcanines sirius gets sorted into slytherin despite his best efforst, still becomes besties with james and peter (remus is ravenclaw). Reggie is a cutie

The Marauders and the Prisoner of Azkaban by SilverShadow1 ♥

On The Theory of Spontaneous Generation by FantasticalFairyFarmer harry luna hermione ron and neville have an accident in the department of mysteries battle and are yot to the late 70s. They're managing pretty well imo. Regulus is a stuck up cutie i want to bite him

to the dark lord by justwhatialwayswanted :D :D :D

Mark My Skin so I Can Laugh at Your Little Girlfriend. by Anonymous Regulus polyjuices himself as lily and fucks her boyfriend (his crush)

Beat Me Unconscious and Tell Me It's Love by Anonymous Jegulus, Regulus wants pain to equal love so that he can feel like his mother loved him. James safewords

From a Distance by unsmokedroses James has a part time summer job in his parent's bookshop and falls head over heels for a regular customer. i love the trope subversion, usually it's regulus behind the counter!

Salt in the Wound by saintsirius jegulus had a messy break up (my bet is it was regulus' parents threatening him) and now they have to act in a movie together! neither is over their feelings.

All of You, All of Me (intertwined) by ajom28 james is an actor and after a bad break up and bad publicity and two years of break he has a chance of making it back on the movie screen. the only problem? he needs some positive PR. Regulus is in a band and they're >this close< to a world tour, but the company wants them to gain more media attention first. Their managers are friends. say hi to fake dating! but Regulus and James absolutely despise each other. Can they get along for the sake of their careers (and for Sirius)?

We are younger and older now by PandaJ Regulus died. Evan died. They wake up the same night, back at Hogwarts.

Blood and Water by euphorial_docx the last of us jegulus au

Teach Me by gaycowboysyd regulus kisses a stranger in the bar only to find out later that fghj that's a father of one of his pupils. AND his brother's best friend!

Gods Under Broken Skies by SlyRaven_394 Regulus dies in the cave and is returned to the night Sirius is leaving. And, see, he's tired of this shit. Kreacher should be allowed more arson more often, as a treat ♥

Diptych by pansysnarkinson I would strangle Gandalf-ish Dumbledore his own natal chord if I could, I can't even. I hate that man with my entire being

R&J by catastropheof79 sirius ran away from home but he needs to get the key Alphard left him to access the inheritance. Cue in James crashing parties and climbing through Regulus' window to plot a heist. IT'S A LOVE STORY BABY JUST SAY YES

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52 notes - Posted November 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

🐞 give me a word and I'll search my WIPs to see if it's there and post the sentence/paragraph it's in! 🐞

65 notes - Posted June 5, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #Huh #not sure i recognise a single blog i allegedly feblogged from.

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ecoamerica · 17 days

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

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talbottoabbott · 1 year

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I wanted to explore how food, movement, and bodies can be woven together and captured in an image. For as long as I can remember, food and dance have been two fundamental parts of my life. Born and raised in the Bay Area to a family of food lovers and cooks, weekly farmer’s market runs and baking at least ten pies for Thanksgiving were the norm. As a toddler, I recall (reluctantly) observing my mother's dance classes on Saturday mornings. I went on to study dances from around the world in high school, then focused on classical ballet and contemporary dance in college. These creative forms continue to be sources of inspiration for me.

I found that the types of food-related images that translated most successfully in black and white film were those that represented the whole ingredient–a bunch of bok choy or a singular strawberry–as opposed to a cooked or prepared dish where the ingredients are difficult to identify. Other images I found to be successful were those where bodies interacted with the food, conveying the innate sensualness and pleasure that is part of food and eating. I felt drawn to capture more of this idea in my images–the suggestiveness of eating a juicy strawberry, the intimacy of holding an heirloom tomato in the palm of one’s hand. Throughout the process I thought about the advantages and/or disadvantages of shooting food in black and white versus in color. Obviously, the vibrancy and distinctiveness of color is lost. But at the same time, this leaves room for the perception of other details that might otherwise be overlooked in a color image. For example, the lines and forms of a root vegetable, a water droplet on the back of a leaf, each individual seed of a strawberry, goosebumps on bare skin.

The sensations of smelling a ripe peach at the farmer’s market and the nostalgia of baking pies with my mother have stayed with me. My hope is that my affection for moments like these come across in one way or another, though I feel like I’ve only skimmed the surface. There is much more to explore in this world of food and movement.

~ Manami Takashina

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i-rove-rock-n-roll · 1 year

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Snippets part three cause why not

The Conquerors

From the moment the leading couple went up on the stage until their escape to their dressing rooms, they constantly lied through their teeth. It wasn't really a lie (not to them anyway), but the audience, if they had known, would've been scandalized. They were descended from some of the most famous stars with the most illustrious theatre heritage in the past century, or so everyone thought.

In reality, they were nobodies. They came from families of old money that had never accomplished an artistic thing in their entire genealogy. Having been disinherited from their families long ago, the two kept their secrets behind closed doors, and wanted to keep them that way.. The press could be fickle, and could turn on them quickly if they weren't careful.

Aztlán

“Our language was stolen from us, replaced by that of the Spanish. They said we were godless, barbaric in our speech. Now you wish us to learn yours for the same reasons. What makes one language better or worse than any other? What makes one god better than another?”

Caín

Father Turrell, if pressed, would admit that the kitchen was his favorite room in the church, if only for its delightfully ugly, old fashioned yellow and brown interior, and the trooper of a coffee pot. It was about as old as his grandad, maybe older, and churned out liquid heaven with little work, no fancy buttons needed.

“Can you grab some mugs? Over in the cupboard?” The man shuffled over, grabbing two chipped mugs before shuffling back over to Father Turrell. “How do you take your coffee?”

“In a cup.” Father Turrell snorted.

“Black then. The only way to go.” He pushed a mug over to the man, sitting at the linoleum table. He gave a murmur of thanks before blowing on the scalding drink. Father Turrell has no such compulsions, downing half his mug in a few short gulps. He leaned against the fridge, noticing how the man’s eyes kept flickering to the machine’s door.

“Hungry?”

“I couldn’t—“ Father Turrell yanked the door open—it tended to stick—and began to root through.

“Let’s see, what do we have—“

“That’s your dinner, Father, not mine.”

“Only meals I get comes from the trooper over there.” He jerked a thumb at the coffee pot. “You look like you need something that’ll stick to your ribs.” He frowned, finding only a few leftovers. “If we had enough of—well, anything, I could make my famous chili. That’s fill you up.”

“You’ve already given me coffee—“

“Shush, I’m thinking.” Father Turrell waved him off, stopped, then sighed. “I guess leftovers will have to do.” He threw everything into various bowls, leaving a scattered trail of styrofoam and takeout containers.

“This is too much—“ The man protested.

“Probably would have gone to waste anyway,” Father Turrell said, trying to be gentle. He didn’t want to scare the man off. “Eat as much as you’d like.”

About halfway through inhaling his third bowl, the man stopped to breathe, and asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion,

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Being nice to me.”

Father Turrell was confused. “Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?”

“People usually don’t like me.” The man said, and any witty remark the priest might have made died before it left his lips.

“Why?” Tact wasn’t in his nature, though the man didn’t seem to care at the question, he didn’t answer. They sat in silence for a moment, sipping coffee. Father Turrell had begun to count tiles in the ceiling before his mouth got the better of him.

“You got a name?” The man blinked in sunrise that the sudden question.

“Carl.”

“I’ll believe that if you believe I wanted to be a ballet dancer when I was a kid.” Father Turrell snorted, then said seriously. “I actually wanted to be a tap dancer.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Semantics.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“Did you expect me to?” He arched a brow. ‘Carl’ muttered under his breath. “You don’t look like a Carl.” Father Turrell paused thoughtfully. “Does anyone actually look like a Carl?”

“Not anyone you want to meet.” The priest furrowed his brow at the strange sentence, but began to collect dishes, running lukewarm water in the sink.

“Anyway, Carl or not, you’re free to have coffee with me anytime you wish.”

“Thank you, Father…”

“Turrell.” The man nodded again, and left once Father Turrell shooed him away from helping with the dishes.

Carl showed up a week later, bags under his eyes deeper than ever.

“You can nap on the pew if you’d like…” Carl shook his head.

“You said I could come here for coffee. I’m here for coffee.”

The trooper chugged on, and Carl got through three cups before he crashed, falling asleep at the table. Father Turrell winced. That did not look comfortable.

Wick the Clown

High Point highschool was like any other school. They had a decent track team, they had a lumbering mass of students, who groaned with every test given. They had an uncaring faculty, all with fake smiles, and plans to run away as soon as they hit the age of retirement.

They also had a demon that loitered beneath the school, but no one really acknowledged that.

“C’mpne, Samantha, don’t tell me you’re scared.”

“You’re such a jerk Chad, I’m not scared…The blonde eyed the dripping pipes with distaste. “I don’t even see anything.”

“You will, “ Chad promised with a wide grin. “It’s just through that door.” The door before them sat heavy and unopened.

“The abandoned pool?”

“Jesse Sorenson swears he saw a shadow the other day, creeping through bleachers.” He mimicked arms outstretched and hands clawed as he walked.

“And you believed him?” Samantha said skeptically. “Jesse Sorenson is the biggest liar in school.”

“He’s also the only dweeb brave enough to even walk through that door.” Chad stood beside her. “You ready?”

Samantha rolled her eyes. “Age before beauty, Chadwick.” She pushed him forward. “Move.”

“I’m moving, I’m moving!” Chad’s hands trembled as he pulled the heavy door open, peering into the dark.

“Are you going to walk in?”

“Don’t rush me, Sam. Catching a demon takes some precision.”

#snippets #writing #my wip #my writing

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cyanidefilledcandy · 2 years

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Decided to try the ballet class again and actually made it through the entire session this time! 😄✌🏾

Truthfully though, I am struggling....and I don't mean physically (though that IS another annoyance and a big reason I couldn't finish last time). It's mostly mental though.

A big part of it is concentration and memorizing the moves, which has always been an issue when it came to me and ballet, but the older I've gotten the worse it has become. (And yes. Even when I started up again in my early 20s, it had gotten a LOT worse.....and in everything; not just ballet. So it's not something I can simply chalk up to age.) I don't know why, but it's like when she's explaining things and giving advice, it's like my mind just kind of blanks out completely. I can't even say it's wandering because there's nothing else on it besides how I'm trying to listen and it's just like my brain isn't processing any of it. :/

I saw a post on Reddit once and someone mentioned Brain Fog as a symptom of mental illness, you never hear about. And I know if it sounds cliche' these days, but honestly.....I felt so seen. And not alone. And not.....dumb.

A huge huge insecurity of mine is appearing stupid. I know for a fact that I'm not (in fact, when the [redacted] cult tried to recruit me, they mentioned my high IQ). But as a teen, I started getting depersonalization really badly, where I just always felt like I was in a dream. After my grandmother passed away, it's like my mind had woken up or came back to reality, but now it was in a constant fog.....a fog that's continued to day and has only gotten thicker. A fog where I forgot basic grammar and math rules, even though I legitimately used them everyday. A fog that causes me to stutter and forget words while speaking (why I've always preferred writing to speaking). A fog that straight up made me forget how talk a couple of times (and no that's not an exaggeration....I literally could not form words. A fog that got so thick to the point where a few years, I literally could not form thoughts.... something I still haven't fully recovered from.

Sorry. I went kind of on a tangent there....but it's so frustrating that this constant Brain Fog is keeping me from doing the things I love; not just dance, but drawing. Writing. Crafting... And I don't know what to do about it. I don't even know the cause, if I'm being completely honest. I've wracked my brain trying to at least get to the root of why, so that MAYBE healing is possible, but....

Another big factor is just my frustration in myself. I'm not an absolute beginner in ballet, but I've felt that way ever since I've started taking ballet as an adult. My teacher would go through simple steps and phrases and I just felt like a moron because I'd either forgotten what they were or just couldn't find them in my brain at all.

I know in reality, I've only done three years of ballet....and even that's pushing it...

It was an elective class (in place of PE) at my middle schools. 30 minutes to an hour a day, sometimes 5 days a week....sometimes only 3. And we never stayed on ballet long (maybe a month and half each school year) because my classmates were more interested in modern/hip-hop. So in truth, those three years, I was not properly trained to say I am knowledgeable in ballet.

I know that logically.

However, my Perfectionist nature hinders me as always....because I feel like I don't even know the basics. Because I feel like I should be able to get through a beginner class with no issue. Because everytime I make a mistake, my mind screams at me "This isn't hard! Why don't you know this?! It's a fucking plie'! You should know how to properly do one by now! You could do this a decade ago with no problem! What the actual fuck?!"

So, I get frustrated and immediately want to quit. (Have always been someone who would rather not try, than to try and fail. Like literally if I thought I would fail a test in highschool, I literally would just not even try and accept a flat 0 than to try and fail.)

And then also, I'm frustrated with myself because I'm over 30 and should be above all of this. It's like I'm going backwards in life. Even as a kid I understood that perfection wasn't a thing, in art, beauty, or anything else. And though I had my moments (such as having a full crying fit the first time I got a B on a PROGRESS REPORT), I've definitely gotten worse.

Besides my stomach (which though self conscious, I still fully accepted), I've never given a damn about my looks or what others thought of it. Now it's constantly on my mind.

I used to draw and draw and didn't give a damn because I liked doing it. Now, I'm terrified to even pick up a pencil because I know it's not going to be what I picture in my head.....and I'm just going to fuck up the perspective. Or the coloring. Or not get the pose exactly right. Or....

I'm just so sick of letting fear and brain fog holding me back from my creativity. I miss moving and creating. Doesn't have to be perfect. Doesn't have to get a ton of likes or comments. I just miss doing things. And with dance.....it used to be the one thing I could do where I legitimately didn't care about my body size or how I looked. I would dance randomly in the grocery.

I just want to get back to being that person.

*sigh* This wasn't where I was intended this blog post to go... (Word vomit, I suppose.)

......my point doesn't even make sense anymore, so....fuck it....

I just want to get out of this fog in my head and back to moving and creating without thinking. 😕

#cyanidefilleddiary #if you actually read this through to the end.....I'm so sorry #but thank you for caring about me and my bullshit #I don't deserve you....but appreciate you wholeheartedly nonetheless #ballet #dance #mental illness

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itsnotyouithink · 2 years

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ONE LAST SORRY

_________________________________________

poppy blossom x fem!reader

summary: the story of poppy blossom and reader, a tragic love story set in the 1960s.

warnings: mentions of abuse, slight smut (nothing bad) and tragedy.

_______________________________________

Poppy Blossom and (Y/N) (Y/L/N) were sitting in two comfortable arm chairs in the Thorn Hill mansion, Poppy owned. Before you, there were Velma, Tammy, Bitsy and Elaina. It was a casual group meeting amongst some of the housewives of Rivervale, even though Poppy was not married. You were discussing the topic of Baileys Comet, something you were particularly fascinated about.

“…Wendy Weatherbee has been arrested for conspiracy. I believe we should stop talking about this subject.” Bitsy warned, the fears of being arrested in her mind.

You gulped, “Wendy? She’s more American than all of us combined. She preaches the Bible on Sundays and got John to the ballets early.”

“That is why, we must not risk it. Talking about the worries of Sputnik or the Comet…It’s a bad idea.” Velma quickly spoke. It was clear everyone in the room was rather worked up about the topic.

Poppy calmly sighed, “Ladies, let us not get worked up about this. I believe, harmless discussion in the privacy of their own homes is no harm. But, we shall move on from this rather conspiring topic.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat across from Poppy on a long red couch in one of her many rooms, you nervously picked at the fabric of your dress. One that Poppy thought complimented you perfectly. “(Y/N), you know I love your company, but, I’m getting the sense that this is something serious. What’s wrong, darling?”

You glanced up at her, “I’m having worries about my marriage, Poppy. It’s not the same from when we first said our, I do.” She titled her head to the side in confusion, “What’s the problem?”

You hesitantly sigh, Poppy getting the memo, she stood from the comfortable arm chair and walked to your side on the red couch, her hands taking yours in her lap. Glancing up at her, “He’s not the same, Poppy. He’s different…violent, even. It started with him not wanting to pursue me, three times! Three times, Poppy. That’s embarrassing! He would rather go out drinking watching boxing than sleep with his own wife!”

Poppy sighed, “He is oblivious to what he has, darling. Have you thought about, maybe, divorcing John?”

“What? Of course not. I couldn’t do that to, Anne. She’s only 8.” You shook your head in protest. The fear of your child turning numb due to the divorce of you and your husband was a sight you could never bare to see.

Poppy nodded her head sympathetically before standing up and walking to a glass cabinet behind you. Coming back, now standing directly in front of you with a small glass bottle. “(Y/N/N), here’s vine root. Sprinkle some of this in his coffee or tea and his anger and violence will disintegrate.”

You stood up quickly. The gratitude and gratefulness you felt towards Poppy growing every time you saw her. You couldn’t deny the way Poppy was undeniably gorgeous. The way her hair effortlessly looked amazing in the mornings or when you would run into each other at Pops or on the sidewalk while coming back from the park with Anne. You loved the way her lips looked and the way they turned up with a smile when you brought cherries to the salon. You couldn’t deny the feelings you felt for Poppy, even with a husband at home. You just knew Poppy was special and would always have a place in your heart.

It happened rather quickly. At first you were standing, hugging Poppy, than you were sitting face to face with the redhead. You were giving her a list of gratitudes and how you were so grateful for her, when your glance went from her hands that were intwined with yours to her eyes…than her lips.

God, those lips.

Your train of thought went silent and hushed when your eyes continued to glance in her brown eyes that you frankly adored. Than to her red painted lips you wish you could feel on yours—You did feel them. You honestly don’t know what had gotten into you.

Your eyes went to her lips once more before you connected your lips with hers. It was a fast, feverish, and passionate. Your hand went to her cheek and as Poppy had started kissing you back, just as passionate, your hands quickly went to her cheeks and the side of her head. Her lips were very thing you imagined and more. The rhythm of both of your lips moving the same pace.

The loving air flowing around the both of you turned hot. Pushing the gorgeous redhead to lay on the couch, quickly straddling the unknown witch. The feeling of Poppy’s lips that were once on your soft, pink lips going to your jawline. Your eyes widened at the sight of the candles around the room lighting on their own. “John is an idiot for not knowing what he has.” Poppy whispered against your neck.

She guided her hand down the length of your body, stopping to safely lay on your ass. You had brought your hand to swiftly turn her blushed and flustered face to you, kissing her hard.

It was when you felt your own tongue re-explored that you had snapped back into reality.

“Oh my God, Poppy, I am so sorry!” Your eyes widened and quickly jumped off of your red headed friend. “Oh God, I shouldn’t have done that! Poppy, I am so sorry.”

You sped to the other side of the room, Poppy standing from the couch, making her way to you. “No, no, (Y/N/N), it’s okay! Everything’s okay. I promise, my love.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few weeks were something you had not experienced since you had met John in high school. Every other day at 8 am, the newspaper would be at your front door with twelve glass bottles of milk and your Mail. The mail would consist of bills, ads and letters from foreign family members on trips. Now, it consisted of love letters—from Poppy.

Dear (Y/N/N),

The opinion that French is the language of love is something I strongly agree with as, every time I hear you speak the beautiful language my heart strongly flutters of a million butterflies.

I have the feeling that even if we see each other every Friday for our group salon, it is not enough. Would it be such a crime to want to see you? I don’t believe so. Maybe it’s the feeling of attachment I now have or a feeling I would never admit too like, jealousy from seeing you and your husband at Pops.

I would be lying if I said that when he yells at you in the parking lot it does not make my blood boil—for it does. But, I do understand the circumstances we are in and I do know why. I just hope you, my darling, are being treated well. Like how I would treat you til death—even in hiding.

I can’t wait to see you, love.

With everything,

Poppy xx

That was one of the many you had received. Every time you had gotten a letter from Poppy, your heart would flutter—no doubt.

Your relationship with John, your husband, had gotten no where but South. He was more violent, more physical. There was no happiness in your relationship that you had once thought about killing him. Three weeks ago, you had been early for the group salon meeting. Now, you come late because of your husband constantly yelling at you about the most stupidest things.

Like tonight. You had taken John and your daughter, Anne, to the local diner. The parking lot and diner were seemingly packed with residents of Rivervale. Everyone in town were here for the same reasons; National Milkshake Day. It was a stupid tradition amongst the town however, Anne wanted to get one of the infamous Pops milkshakes.

So, here you were, watching as your daughter drank her milkshake while arguing with your husband. “—Let me be, (Y/N).”

“John, we haven’t had any family time together. For the sake of your own daughter, at least talk to her!” You quietly begged, you hands on the table as you leaned over.

A distant Poppy looking.

“(Y/N) I’m going to watch the fight. You can pay for your own meal.” He scoffed and walked towards the exit of the diner. You glanced at your young daughter who was too distracted by her milkshake to notice her absent parents in the booth.

“God, your a sick excuse of a man! You can’t even bond with your wife anymore, let alone your own daughter.” You tainted, quickly following him out to the parking lot. John rubbed his forehead, “I’m doing this for us! For our family! I’m telling you, my love, these bets I have on this fighter—”

“Stop with the gambling!” You exclaimed. Both of you standing at the back of Pops. “It’s been getting us no where but debt! We are still paying off the debt you have dug us in too.”

He angrily sighed, dragging his hand across his face. “You just watch, (Y/N). When I’m rich and your at my doorstep begging for a chance…I won’t take you in. You’ll have to sit there and watch me have a new family. A better one.”

With that, he stormed off.

You sighed before walking the corner of Pops and back into the diner. Treading your way back to the previous booth you had left your daughter in. Only, the place that you had previously sat in was filled.

You couldn’t lie to yourself and say the sight in front of you didn’t make your heart flutter and glow—because it did. It felt like a million butterflies flew in your stomach at the sight of Poppy and Anne sitting in the booth lightly giggling with each other.

“Well what’s so funny?” You lightly laughed, sliding into the opposite seat across from them. Poppy smiled, “I was just telling Anne about how her gorgeous mother almost slipped and fell today. The Angel had quiet a fit, until I kissed the small scratch on her knee.” The redhead winked.

You rolled your eyes but non-the less giggled along with them. You looked out towards the sky, not even noticing the darkness surrounding the diner. You sighed, “Well, we should get going. Anne has a play date with Velma’s little girl, tomorrow.”

Anne squealed with excitement and climbed over Poppy and bridled to her mothers side. “We need to go home, now!” The little girl smiled and turned to Poppy. “Wait. Can Poppy come too?”

You looked toward the redhead with a raised eyebrow, “Poppy has a tight schedule—”

“—What? I don’t recall me having anyone tonight or tomorrow. I can certainly come over for coffee.” She smiled.

~~~~~~~~~

Seated on your gray couch, you had your legs over the redheads lap. Both of you sipping wine, giggles filling the room. Anne was fast asleep in her own bedroom, dreaming about her upcoming day.

They both giggled at what Poppy had said. You took a sip of wine before sighing, twirling a piece of Poppys fiery hair, “You make me feel really special, Poppy.” You moved your hair that was stuck between your back and the end of the couch. “More special than John ever could.” You kissed your teeth.

Poppy softly smiled, looking down at the black fabric. She admired the dress you wore. The dark fabric with a line of red going up and down the sides complimented you well. The collar at the top with the buttons undone went with the society norms for women—besides the buttons.

You cleared your throat, reaching over and placing the wine glass on the coffee table beside the both of you. Slightly giggling at the offended expression on Poppy’s face when you took her glass as well.

It was a good idea. This was a good idea. It is a good idea.

You straddled the lap of the Blossom, your hands loosely wrapping around her neck as you felt her manicured fingers guide themselves to your hips, caressing the fabric below her fingertips.

You could feel your heartbeat picking up as the butterflies flew around your stomach, the love confession at the tip of your wine covered tongue. “What is on your mind, my love.”

My love.

God, she wanted to be called that forever. Forever coming from Poppy’s lips. It slipped out so naturally, like she had said it billions of times before.

“I love you.”

It was so natural. So swiftly coming from her tongue. The confession she had only done with one person. The confession she was pressured to feel all those years ago. This time it was real. Real love. She was flustered just by the fact of living a life with Polly—a real life.

Poppy smiled up at you, her hand reaching to caress your cheek. “I love you too, darling. Forever and ever.”

A smile broke out on your face, leaning down to capture the lips of the Blossom in your own. Both moving in synchronized movements like two doves.

The redheads hand snaking under the black dress her lover was wearing. Her hand squeezed gently as it went to your ass. Squeezing turned to massaging, to gripping. Low moans coming from you at the feeling.

Your moans were being swallowed by the Blossom as she hungrily kissed you. The faint sound of lips together were the only thing heard in the room. The taste of grape wine being shared between the both of you.

The zipper of your dress was being pulled down, the dress falling down making a pool of fabric at your waist. The redhead smiled, “You are gorgeous, (Y/N/N).”

The butterflies.

Her lips went to your neck, sloppy and delicate kisses littering your collarbone. Her cherry lips made their way down, kissing the length of your chest, before settling her way back up to your moaning lips.

Taking you by your hips, she moved you so your back was against the comfortable pillows of your couch. Kissing you deeply, both of your eyes full of lust, she slipped two fingers into you.

It was the euphoria that came next. The pumping of her fingers, the phrases whispered in your ears, the multiple love confessions, the compliments, the hand holding when she would thrust her magical fingers into you while she kissed you deeply or placed a delicate love bite in an area only she now was allowed to see.

It was so euphoric. That’s why when everything went to Hell, you weren’t surprised as the universe simply hated you.

You described yourself as smart. I guess just not smart enough to hide the love letters. Poppy describes herself as stone faced, but I guess not enough to not cry at the scene in front of her.

You were pulled to the Blossoms front door by your angered husband who clutched the recent love letters you had received. You watched with tears in your eyes at he knocked on the door severest times until the redhead you adored opened the front oak doors. “Well, what a surprise. What can I do for you, John?” She asked in a polite tone, her eyes scanning your face that failed to reach her eyes.

“I know what you are doing with my wife, Poppy.” He shoved the letters into her chest, “I know what you’re trying to do, it ain’t gonna work.”

“I do not understand.”

“You stay away from my wife—my family.” He grabbed you by the forearm towards him. “Tell her, (Y/N)”

You gulped and finally met Poppy’s now tearful eyes. “I’m in a happy marriage, Poppy. I apologize if you had gotten the wrong idea.”

John stepped towards Poppy, leaving you behind him watching Poppy with a sorry expression.

“If you even think about my wife, I will kill you.” He turned back to you, “Let’s go. Now.”

There was one last letter sent to Poppy Blossom from you. It was just one last sorry. She read it on the day of the comet, the blazing light passing her as she read the final love note she would receive from you.

Dear Poppy,

I wish for you too know; that I don’t regret a single thing we did. This letter is a reminder of two things.

One: keep doing your magic. You are helping people, no matter what those male imbeciles say.

Two: I will forever love you, Poppy. I love you now and I will love you forever and ever.

With everything,

(Y/N/N)

#fanfic #fiction #aesthetic #cheryl blossom #cheryl blossom x reader #poppy blossom #riverdale #madelaine petsch #x reader #abigail blossom

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twistedmusings · 3 years

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Arabesque and Plie

A/N: I don't know why, as I crying trying to write my paper, I thought of my old ballet classes. There is such an intimacy in dancing a pas de deux with someone, especially with lifts, and such a tenderness when you see them communicate with just their faces...so I immediately put a twst spin on it. Warnings: Malleus and Leona trying to one up each other but failing because they are too focused on moving with you as one.

Malleus Draconia and Leona Kingscholar meet outside the gates of Ramshackle, only one of them being called out to meet you...how would they react when you ask them for some help?

----

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Malleus blinks as he looks at the dorm leader of Savannaclaw, the other glaring at him as they both met near the entrance of Ramshackle. Leona huffed and looked down at the package in Malleus’s hand.

“You brought a gift?”

“...I would think it is rather impolite to arrive at a dear friend’s house without a gift.”

Leona clicks his tongue as he pushes the gate open, forcing his way inside and refusing to look back at the dorm leader following him.

You really had gone and invited the lizard and not him? Where the hell did you get off? Here he was being decent enough to hand you the homework you had missed, after Vil forced him to do it, and you had gone and invited this cold blooded iguana to your place?

“Were you invited as well, Kingscholar?”

Wouldn’t he like to know.

“Mind your damn business, lizard, I’m just here on business.”

Malleus nods as he knocks on the door, both dorm leaders looking around as they heard music coming from...somewhere. Leona’s ears twitched as the door opened, the music getting somewhat louder as Grimm opened the door with an exhausted look and shaky paws.

“UGH! FINALLY.”

He floats over to Malleus as he points back at the entrance of Ramshackle.

“Please do something about them! My paws are hurting so much and I don’t think I can keep it up for much more!”

Blue eyes turn to Leona, Grimm tilting his head and looking at Leona up and down.

“...did you get los--”

“Just show me where the herbivore is.”

Leona spits out and makes his way into Ramshackle first, not looking back at the two as he looks around. He had never been in Ramshackle dorm but from what Jack told him it was simple and compact. His eyes had already spotted three great napping spots, which he would make use of the moment he handed you these damn papers, before he stepped into the foyer.

“Letting your pet open up the door for you now? Is the title of dorm leader getting to y--”

His teeth click as Leona shuts his mouth while his ears perked up at the growing intensity of the music in the room. Although, maybe that wasn’t the only reason they were up.

Eyes immediately went to your legs. .

The leg that was standing straight like an arrow seemed to not waver as the other extended itself out, one of your arms reaching outwards while you moved the other arm back so that your hand would press against your extended leg, the position imitating a sort of hunting bow as you held the position for as long as you could--

Leona jumped when you let out a breath, immediately dropping your position and spitting out a small ‘dammit’ into the air.

His surprise lasted only a moment as the mood was amazingly ruined by the two people he forgot were there, Malleus walking up behind him as Grimm took the snack filled box into the kitchen.

“Child of man.”

You turn around.

“Oh! Malleus! There you are! I need--”

Your eyes fall on the Savannaclaw dorm leader, tilting your head as he waits for his greeting.

“...do you need something from me, Leona-senpai?”

You little--

“Hah? Am I not allowed in your dorm? Only lizard boy over here can come over?”

“What? No! I’m just...surprised. You never really leave Savannaclaw that often, at least that is what Jack says.”

Leona tosses the papers on a nearby coffee table and lays himself out on your couch.

“He doesn’t know me as well as he thinks he does...tell him next time to mind his business.”

You roll your eyes before holding out your hand for Malleus to take, the other quickly taking it and following you to the middle of the room.

“Grim mentioned you performing some sort of physical task that left him exhausted.” He looks down at the way your hands fit together before smiling.

“Are you in need of magical assistance?”

“As much as I would like to take a raincheck on that, the only thing I need right is you, Tsunotarou.”

You jump as you hear Leona drop one of his shoes on the floor loudly, taking the other one off slowly and refusing to look your way.

“...me?”

The Diasmonia dorm leader squeezes your hand lightly as he feels an unlikely warmth in his chest at your words. He briefly wondered if he should speak about the sleepless night he had, his mind far too giddy about you inviting him over that he held himself back on the sun waiting to rise in favor of sleeping as much as he could so he could enjoy his day with you.

“Yes! I just need you to…”

You hum and put a finger to your chin, tapping it twice as you figured out the best way to explain what you wanted from him.

“You know, I think it would just be quicker to show you.”

You rush over to the phone Crowley had given you, tapping the screen as music started to play from the small speakers. Malleus remains rooted to his spot as you get on your tiptoes, the shoes you got from Sam yesterday greatly aiding you in keeping comfortable as you move your arms up and down while concentrating on the routine you had memorized over and over.

Lime green eyes widen as you extend yourself back, dropping down to touch the floor as your other leg goes up with your movements before reaching back as if being held by someone. He watches you hold the position for a few seconds before both of your feet drop gently as you move closer to him.

Your eyes open to reveal a sad look, both feet now on pointed toes as you reach out to him only to pull back gently and lean forward only a slight bit before moving back and going into a simple arabesque.

The music grew in intensity as two sets of eyes are on you now, watching you spin twice before you raised your arms along with the crescendo and your leg going up to try to match their height--

You hiss in pain as you drop the position immediately, Leona sitting up quickly as Malleus is at your side in an instant.

“Child of man--”

“Are you trying to stretch yourself out, herbivore?”

You sigh and stop the music, shaking one of your legs out to get rid of the cramps.

“Before coming here I used to do ballet in my free time. I thought that maybe they would have a ballet club on campus but Vargas said he has never heard of ballet before--so here I am trying to kill my boredom by dancing to one of my old routines and putting a new story to it.”

Both dorm leaders want to say something but find themselves rather lost.

Malleus recognizes this type of dance despite it being called a different name in the Valley of Thorns and Leona has only been around traditional Afterglow dances so what you just did impressed him more than he’d care to admit.

You pout.

“And I thought that I could maybe do a pas de deux by myself but--I’m not strong enough.”

Leona nods.

“So you needed someone to help you...is that it?”

“Exactly!” you grin and turn to look at Malleus,“You don’t mind right? It’s not like you have to do anything too complicated just...spin me when I tell you to and when the time comes for me to do that pose--”

You try to imitate it as best as possible.

“Just hold my leg up! All you need to do.”

Malleus had pretty much already made up his mind, nodding to your every word as you instruct him on where he should hold and for how long--

Only for him to frown as Leona grabs your wrist and pulls you away from him.

“If you needed someone to just hold you still, you could have used that raccoon over there.”

“THEY DID!”

Grim comes out of the kitchen with a plate full of snacks as he makes his way upstairs.

“My paws are shaking from trying to keep their entire leg up...I never asked for this type of exercise!”

You sigh.

“It wasn’t that bad, Grim!”

“YOU WEREN’T THE ONE ALMOST GETTING SQUASHED WHEN YOUR LEG CAME

DOWN!”

Grim goes upstairs.

“AND DON'T EXPECT TO GET ANY SNACKS.”

Leona tries to speak up but stops when Malleus puts a hand on your shoulder.

“You were only here to deliver some homework, correct?”

He tugs you back lightly.

“You should be getting back to your dorm, Kingscholar.”

The lion prince growls only to grab your wrist and pull you back.

“You don’t tell me what to do, Malleus. If I wanted to live here I would do so instantly.”

“Uh...no?”

They both turn to you, Malleus looking down with a kind smile as Leona glares at what you were going to say next.

“Shall we get started, child of man?”

“I can help you just as well as he can!”

“Sit down for now, Leona-senpai?”

Malleus can’t help the smile on his face as you lead him back to the center of the room. You had called for him after all, Kingscholar was just here because...well he didn’t know.

You start up the music again and begin the routine, Malleus smiling all the while you seem to glide effortlessly through movements that seemed far too complicated for him to put together. One moment you were crossing your legs and the other you were stretching out your leg while balancing yourself in one foot.

He readies his arm as you move on tip toes towards him, giving him a gentle smile before turning your back to him and going into an arabesque.

“Grab my waist Mal and...gently spin me around.”

The dorm leader does as he is told, meeting your eyes and chuckling when you make a face at him.

“You said there was a story to this, child of man?”

You start moving backward, one leg stretching out and remaining steady as his hand now moved to your lower back so he could support some of your weight.

“The original story is somewhat cliched...so I was thinking of making it a story about an adventurer who meets a lonely king. They don’t know they are a king because he purposefully keeps it from them--I’m going to learn forward, okay?”

His hands are on your waist as you glide down, touching the floor with your foot as your other foot goes straight up, coming back up elegantly as you explain the plot further.

“The adventurer and the king spend a lot of time together...yet the king feels like if he reveals his secret now the adventurer would run. So he keeps it hidden until an unfortunate incident--”

You hold out your hand for him as you stand on your tiptoes, Malleus taking it and giving it a gentle squeeze before watching you raise one of your legs up so that it is at the same height as his stomach.

“Yet when it is revealed he finds that the adventurer doesn’t care who he is. All they care about is the person who they care for the most...and that is the king.”

Were you trying to tease him? This story sounded far too familiar. If he were to pick a character to relate to it would certainly be the monarch. While Malleus certainly wasn’t scared to show you who he was, he just wanted the mystery to last a bit longer so you would stay at his side. If you had known he was the Malleus Draconia, would you act as light hearted as you are now? Or would you pull away and cower in fear?

The very thought made him anxious as you turned your back towards him again, your hands raising up as you got ready to go into your big arabesque position. You give Malleus a quick cue as you stretch yourself out, your leg rising up as far as it could--only to lay gently against Malleus’s hand as you let out a sigh of relief.

“...do you think the adventurer would stay with the King?”

“Huh?”

Malleus can see he caught you by surprise as he lets your leg go down slowly, setting you back into first position before you once again stand on your tiptoes and put your hand up so Malleus could spin you around twice. At this point, he was entirely focused on where your hands were going and how you were moving, picking up on each cue as he dared to look into your eyes.

“I know this is your story but if the adventurer were to leave...the King would be rather heartbroken. I am certain that he would prefer if the adventurer were to stay.”

He knows he would prefer it if you stayed. And if he ever dared to be so bold, he would prefer that you stayed by his side.

The music fades out after the last note, Malleus still holding your hand as you try to catch your breath.

Had he said too much? Did he perhaps make you uncomfortable? The story was from your imagination and he was just reading far too into it--

His eyes widen as your other hand rests on top of his, looking at you with surprise as you giggle and pull them close to your heart.

“If the King would have them...I’m sure the adventurer could find a new home with him.”

“If you want to help then...fine.”

Leona smirks as he watches you apologize to Malleus, the other visibly disappointed which already made him feel pretty great. He hadn’t even meant to stay here for too long and yet you had picked him for this little dance of yours. Suck it, lizard.

He turns to look at you, watching your eyes staring at him intently as he leads you to the center of the room.

“What is it?”

“...do you think you can lift me up?”

Oh you were being really funny, weren’t you? Of course he could lift you up. Out of all of the Magishift members and out of all the people in Savannaclaw, he was the strongest one. At this point you were just asking stupid questions.

“Try me.”

You nod as you pick a different song, starting it up as you start out in first position with your back turned to him. He watched as you bend your leg and bring it up to your thigh, slowly unbending it and lifting it up as it goes past your head. Eyebrows raised, he goes to support it but you stop him with a sound.

What? Wasn’t that what he was here for? He watches you glide into every move with great precision, turning towards him with one foot as the other is raised halfway. In his opinion, it made you look like a living doll.

He wasn’t sure why he liked that so much.

You walk back towards him slowly, your hands at your side with your palms facing outwards before you do a single turn and speak up.

“Grab me by the waist and just hold me. I’ll tell you when to spin.”

With great effort, you lift up your leg once again and stretch out while giving him the command to gently spin you. Leona nods as his hold on you changes, turning you around slowly and watching you bend down sideways.

His hold changes from one hand to one, wrapping his arm around your waist as his other hand starts to outstretch to support him better. You come back up and smile as he gives you a shit eating grin.

“Did you expect that?”

“I almost don’t want to give you the satisfaction of an answer.”

Leona takes great care to make sure that his hold on you is as light as it can be. If he was holding onto you for dear life, he was sure that your bones would immediately break. And with the way this dance was going, it seemed that you needed him to be as gentle as possible.

Already a tall order for him.

“So what’s the story of this dance?”

He takes a hold of your waist as you stretch yourself out, both hands going outwards as he brings you back in slowly.

“The original is a bit cliche but...maybe I should make it about an adventurer trying to find a lost prince--I’m going to need you to lift me up over your head.”

You glide to the right before jumping up, Leona giving you the extra boost you needed as you put one leg up and your arms stretching themselves out as they briefly rubbed against his ears.

“Maybe the adventurer hears a story of a missing prince who was never seen again after a quarrel with his country, yet the country needed the prince’s plans in order to succeed in battle. So they asked an adventurer to please seek him out.”

A prince, huh?

He gently guides you down but his hands never leave your waist as you instruct him to keep his hold a bit tight as you stretch yourself out towards the other dorm leader sitting on the couch but being greedily pulled back to Leona.

“Unbeknownst to them, the adventurer had already met the prince. They had stopped the prince’s rather tedious plans to take over some foreign land. The adventurer understood why they would want him back...but they didn’t know if he would accept.”

You tell him that you are going to move forward and that when you do he should immediately lift you up. It is surprising that he follows your every move so effortlessly, but maybe he was just that in tune with what you were doing. It’s the first time he has held someone so closely without trying to cause them physical harm. Besides, it was amazing to see you remain composed and relaxed as he lifted you up into the air only to watch you hold your pose.

“So? Did the adventurer get to the prince?”

He turns your waist clockwise fast, making you spin around in four circles before stopping you as you lean forward and raise your leg up, the movements getting a bit faster as his hands went from looking at the back of your head to your waist.

“They did...but the prince told them that he just wanted to stay where he was now. How it wouldn’t be worth it to go back home after all the shameful things he has done.”

Leona can almost feel your determination as you pull away from him. Why would you pick a prince out of all people? And one of an outcast nonetheless. Were you still trying to call him out for his past mistakes? Was that all he was to you? The dorm leader who had tried to cheat his way to victory?”

You smile and hold out your hand, Leona raising his slowly and taking your as you raise your leg up.

“But the adventurer wouldn’t leave it there. They know what the prince is capable of...all they need to do is make sure that he sees it as well.”

A quick glide downwards as he picks you right up, setting you down on two feet before you resume your position on your tiptoes.

“The adventurer tells the prince that there are plenty of things that only he can do that nobody else can. Even if the crown wasn’t his, he would still hold great power over the decisions of his kingdom. One didn’t need to wear a crown to have great power.”

You turn your back towards him and start getting ready to go into your great arabesque position--!

Only to stop when Leona stands in front of you and goes down on one knee, staring at you in the eyes while you raise your leg up and instead of fully stretching yourself back...you merely lean down and rest your hands on his shoulders.

He may be lazy but he knows symbolism when he sees one. If you were to be the adventurer and he was the prince, he imagined himself staring up at you as you spoke words of comfort to him and him alone. The bastard in the story must be pretty lucky to have someone like the adventurer believe in them…

The music fades out slowly as you go back into first position, Leona scratching the back of his head with a bored look while you pick up your phone and stop the music altogether.

“First Vil and now you, everyone is making me work today.”

Leona can’t look at you in the face, not after he pulled that cliche sort of move. One moment of weakness and he was putting himself in the shoes and feeling jealous of a character that didn't even exist! When did he get so pathetic?

He mumbles a quick goodbye and heads out, deciding that he needed to nap for the rest of the day after that embarrassing moment--

“Leona-senpai!”

The dorm leader stops in his tracks, turning around with an annoyed look only for it to melt away as you trot over to him and smile.

“Mind if I call you in case I need your help again?”

Damn you. Damn you, damn you, damn you you made him so weak--

He leans close and grins before flicking your forehead.

“If you reward me properly then...maybe.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst imagines #malleus draconia #leona kingscholar #twst mc #twst x reader #//I feel like this is so cheesy and self indulgent....but good Im glad it is ò uó

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