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masterskywalkers · 4 years

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OC Interview Meme

Tagged by the very lovely @ghostlygal, thank you so much! (:

I’m going to be doing two of these, since I couldn’t pick between the two OC’s I wanted to write for. Today will be the first one, and the second will be posted sometime over the next few days.

I’ll also tag @renegade-skywalker, @dreamerinsilico, @diceyfall, @sexy-salmon, @rannadylin, @flyppa, @ohvatnirs. No pressure though if you’d rather not (:

I’m answering with Keanu Reeves, the one birdman - Caleb De Sardet!

Name ➔ “Caleb De Sardet. If you weren't already aware, I'm also the Legate of the Merchant Congregation."

Are you single ➔ He shakes his head, a small smile rising upon his lips as he lets out a small breath of laughter. "I very much am not, no."

Are you happy ➔ “Yes, I believe I am."

Are you angry ➔ “Not right this moment. Is there any reason that I should be?"

Are your parents still married ➔ “No. My father died when I was very young, and as for my mother ..." Caleb drifts off, face scrunching slightly in pain. " ... well. I rather suppose she's no longer with us, either."

NINE FACTS

Birthplace ➔ Caleb frowns in thought. "I'm ... not honestly sure. I used to believe I was born within the Continent, but after learning the truth about my heritage I know that to be false. I believe I was born at sea, but whether or not that is the honest truth either is anyone's guess."

Hair colour ➔ “Brown."

eye colour ➔ “Also brown."

Birthday ➔ “24th of June."

Mood ➔ “At this very moment? I suppose I'm calm."

Gender ➔ “I'm a man."

Summer or winter ➔ “I'm much rather more fond of spring and autumn, truthfully. Both summer and winter are either too hot or too cold for me, whereas I find spring and summer more pleasant."

Morning or afternoon ➔ "Afternoons, if only for the fact that those are the times of day where I manage to find some sort of respite between my duties."

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

Are you in love ➔ Caleb smiles. "Yes."

Do you believe in love at first sight ➔ “Not at all. If you take my relationship with Vasco as any sort of example, you'll know why." He pauses, letting out a small laugh. "I still believe I offended him by calling his ship a boat."

Who ended your last relationship ➔ "Ah," Caleb sits back in his chair, appearing somewhat uncomfortable for a second. "The truth is that before Vasco, there was no other relationship. Oh my Cousin tried to set me up with one or two people when we were younger, but when he realised I wasn't particularly interested he stopped right away."

Have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ Caleb thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. "Not that I'm aware of, no. I wasn't all that popular growing up."

Are you afraid of commitments ➔ “Oh heavens, not at all! I've always known that one day I'd have to marry - whether or not it was a political move or a decision built upon love was never really a question.”

Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ “Yes."

Have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ “Again, not as far as I know."

Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ "I - suppose I have. Childish thoughts though, truly. Nothing could have come from them."

SIX CHOICES

Love or lust ➔ “Love." Lemonade or iced tea ➔ "Lemonade, although I must admit I rarely drink it." Cats or dogs ➔ Caleb's face lights up. "Constantin and I always wished for a dog growing up. Neither of our parents would allow us to have one, but it never lessened the desire. Perhaps once things have settled in New Sérène I can convince him to finally get one." A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ He sighs. "As Legate I have many allies. But only a few close friends whom I would trust with me life. I prefer it that way."

Wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “A romantic night in. I very rarely get the chance to spend some time by myself these days, and I've never been much for drink and indulgence. That was more Constantin's scene, not mine."

Day or night ➔ “Daytime."

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

Been caught sneaking out ➔ “Once or twice." Caleb laughs, shaking his head at a sudden memory. "The worst was the time Constantin and I snuck out to avoid one of our classes. His stepmother found us after I'd climbed out my bedroom window - having fallen onto her prized roses. She wasn't at all happy. My cousin tried to take most of the blame, but I wouldn't let him. After all, I was the one sitting on a rather prickly flowerbed."

Fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “A few times. Especially running around the halls as a child." Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ His face turns pained. "Oh. Yes." Wanted to disappear ➔ “All the time when I was younger. I don't know where I'd be if it weren't for Constantin and my mother."

FOUR PREFERENCES

Smile or eyes ➔ “A lot can be said about how someone smiles." Shorter or taller ➔ “Taller than me. Not that it's particularly unusual." Intelligence or attraction ➔ “Intelligence can be misplaced. There are different kinds of intellect, and I am not the person to be deciding what makes or does not make an intelligent person. So I suppose my answer is attraction, since that is something that comes much more naturally." Hook-up or relationship ➔ “A relationship is a much more preferable method. I find the former rather empty in their connection."

FAMILY

Do you and your family get along ➔ "That depends entirely. To me family was mainly Constantin and my mother, and they are two of the most important people in my life. But if you are referring to my Uncle and Step-Aunt ..." Caleb takes a moment to think. "... I got along well enough with them, I suppose. I would never say we were close, and I always hated how they treated Constantin. I do not trust them, but I was never as ... open in my disagreements as my cousin often was." Would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ Caleb's eyes widen at that. "My life is by no means normal. But ... I'm happy, so I can't complain too much. I just wish so much of my past wasn't hidden within layers of secrets and lies." Have you ever ran away from home ➔ “No, never." Have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ “Not at all."

FRIENDS

Do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ Caleb frowns. "No. If I ever did, then they surely wouldn't be my friend any longer." Do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ “Of course." Who is your best friend ➔ "Probably Kurt. We've known each other for years, and I can always rely on him."

Who knows everything about you ➔ "Constantin, of course. It's his business to know everything and anything about me, and I think he'd be offended if I ever tried to hide anything from him. And my partner, Vasco. There are no secrets between the two of us."

#greedfall #de sardet #male de sardet #ch: caleb de sardet #misc: replies #misc: character ask meme

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anika-ann · 4 years

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Think Again (When You Stop Freaking Out) - Pt.6

Mirror and Mirage

Pairing: None Word count: 2012

Warnings: language, hella lot confusion, attempt at humour, medical drug use… irony and sass? ;)

Summary: Matt and Steve bond over superpowers and strange yet amazing friends. Tony Stark does what he wants. The usual.

Story Masterlist

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Matt had a suspicion that Tony Stark liked to show off his wealth. He also thought that Bruce Banner definitely was more of a good host than anyone would expect from a man turning into a huge green monster (not that Matt could tell the colour).

With these two things combined, they ended up in what seemed to be a living room for all the Avengers, cups of coffee in front of themselves, Bruce talking in hushed voice with the other genius.

Foggy – after making sure it was okay for what could be four times – excused himself to the balcony so he could admire the marvellous view from the Tower. Matt was frankly sure he took a selfie. And Thor disappear god knew where, no pun intended.

Which left the captain and Matt alone, each of them sitting on a different couch. The silence wasn’t particularly awkward, but neither it was comfortable.

It made Matt realize that he was probably the only one to perceive silence in this situation. Which was really, really weird.

“How you’re holding up, Captain?” he addressed Steve hesitantly and the man in question raised his head to him immediately.

He was still glasses-free, which meant Matt had his emotions served on a silver plate. It dawned to him that while for him personally the glasses shielded people from the uncomfortable sight of his unseeing eyes, they had much more important function. Matt wasn’t sure if it was a Steve Rogers thing or Matt Murdock’s face thing, but boy, thank god for the red lenses. They were a mask on their own.

“I’m fairly sure we can drop the titles, Mr. Murdock.”

“Matt.”

Steve extended his hand Matt’s general direction. “Steve.”

Matt chuckled as the absurdity and accepted the hand, this time trying to be wary of using too much force. To be honest, he was surprised how well was Steve coping. The supersoldier had been blinded and given terribly strong senses; he was holding up incredibly well.

“You seem to be doing really well, Steve. How are you really?”

Matt was met with a sight of himself shrugging, his face once again revealing more than the simple gesture. It’s not easy, the expression said. I’m fine, the gesture hinted. Strange dichotomy. Was it like this with him all the time?

“Well, I’m trying. It’s… overwhelming.”

Matt laughed humourlessly. “That’s one way to say it.”

“But… the Tower seems to muffle the noise of the city pretty well, rooms seemed rather soundproof. I can’t imagine what it’s like for you to live like this all the time…” he hesitated, as if he was reluctant to say more. “I… I think that… the body remembers a way to cope though. When Foggy came to the apartment… the world fell silent. Not completely, just… it… he grounded me.”

Matt watched him struggling to explain the feelings, the soft note of awe and admiration in his voice, and couldn’t help but relate – to the struggle, not the admiration. That part was just… unexpected. He wasn’t used to people acting like this. Foggy could never understand, no matter how much he tried; and everyone else… it was just waves and waves of pity washing over him whenever he mentioned things weren’t always easy; so as a rule, he tried his best not to.

But Steve seemed simply astonished. Matt wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Well, I guess there’s something true about that. I… people help with that. If I can focus on something or someone, it gets easier. Foggy… he is a good thing to focus on. Just… please don’t mention it in front of him.”

Steve looked like he was considering the pros and cons for a minute – lying and keeping secrets versus the consequences of telling the truth – , and then nodded.

“Well, I’m just grateful. It’s none of my business.”

Lots of things aren’t, Matt heard despite no more words spoken.

He smiled at Steve with relief and gratitude even though he knew the man couldn’t see it. “Thanks, Steve.”

The soft smile was thrown right back at him.

“What about you? How you’re holding up? I’m not exactly… great at interpreting all the info I’m being offered…”

Matt huffed. “To be honest, I think I understand what you mean by the muscle memory thing. I knew Doctor Banner was a friend of some sort when he approached me. It’s all… weird.”

Matt knew he didn’t need to say that he meant mainly the ability to see – Steve read between the lines.

“Imagine that,” Steve hummed vaguely, lowering his sightless gaze.

“I guess I just want this to be over with,” Matt admitted, feeling the tiredness settle in his – Steve’s – bones.

At that, Steve raised his head again, his eyes somewhat searching. Curious, but not noisy. Compassionate, but not pitying. Understanding, Matt realized.

Steve opened his mouth several times without a sound coming out and then spoke in soft reluctant voice.

“I was given this opportunity to… to serve my country despite being sick most of my life and I…, finally be able to fight for what I believed was right was all I could want. I had something I could never hope to have. And after the transformation… I had this recurrent dream, almost every night – still have it sometimes. I dream that wake up and… I’m back to my old self. It only gets worse with time. The longer I live like this… the worse the dream about relapsing is becoming. And it’s not the fact itself that I’m small and helpless… it’s that I am small and helpless again.”

Matt’s lips parted, releasing a shaky exhale under Steve’s genuine eyes – well, his own, whatever. His heart was hammering in his ribcage, the world swaying off its place slightly.

How… how was he able to get to the very core of the problem? How— how could he know exactly the worst part? Because he knows it, a tiny voice whispered in Matt’s head. He knows it.

Matt had no doubt Steve was telling the truth – and he finally understood what Foggy meant when saying that Matt was a terrible liar, seriously, Matt Murdock’s face screamed truth right now and it wasn’t hard to imagine that lie would be just as clear.

Matt fought against the lump in his throat, swallowing loudly.

“Yeah,” he rasped, watching the corner of Steve’s lips rise in a lopsided sad smile. “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.”

Or once, Matt was sure of his own feelings. He didn’t hate the ability to see. He was in peace with not seeing too, for most part.

But he despised the limited period he was given the great opportunity, only to be robbed of it. Again.

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“So, I have an idea.”

“That can’t be good,” Matt murmured under his breath, making Steve chuckle silently. In response, Matt’s heart skipped a beat, probably not expecting to be heard.

Tony was oblivious to the note, so Steve assumed Matt truly spoke too low for anyone to hear it. Except for a guy with superhearing, who was now in the position of being surprise surprised by being heard. Steve thought that maybe, one day he would be able to truly laugh at that.

“It’s very scientifically advanced so I’m gonna say it in plain English…” Foggy, Steve and Matt all held their breaths, while Bruce… Steve was pretty sure he rolled his eyes, even though he had no way of knowing that. “You should go to sleep.”

“I beg your pardon?” Matt blurted out.

Yeah, what he said. When had Steve zoned out enough to ignore Bruce and Tony talking anyway?

“Hey, I don’t want to explain it in science talk-“

“There’s zero ‘science talk’. We just think that if the artefact affected you in sleep, it might activate again when your consciousness is in the same state as it was during the first exchange,” Bruce cut him off and Steve could feel the shuffle of air as Tony gave his friend an annoyed look.

“Now you’re just oversimplifying-“

“Tony, that was a thinking of a five year old reading enough fairy tales-“

“I don’t think I can fall asleep now and like this,” Matt sighed, interrupting the bicker.

“I kinda agree,” Steve confirmed hesitantly.

“Yeah, well, in this century, we have those things called sleeping-pills,” Tony informed them sassily and Steve crossed his arms on his chest. Yeah, sure, except he would need a dose for an elephant. Or, well, Matt would need it. Steve’s actual body would. Whatever.

“I don’t like drugs.”

“Yeah, drugs are bad,” Foggy stated and Steve knew he crossed his arms as well. “I mean… he really doesn’t like it.”

“It messes with me for days. Call it oversensitivity…” Matt explained reluctantly, his voice sheepish and clearly uncomfortable.

“Yeah, well…”

Too late, Steve smelled something that set all alarm bells in his head off. It was a strange smell, artificial, making his stomach turn up. Before he could locate the source, he felt a sting on his neck. His hand immediately went to cover the place, strange warmth spreading through his body.

“HEY!” three voices protested loudly and Steve’s world swayed. His fingers touched a small object sticking from his skin, pulling it out with another sting.

With mind cloudy and his limbs swimming, he identified it painfully slowly. A tranquillizer arrow.

Tony had never meant to ask them if they wanted to go to sleep. Of course he hadn’t.

Steve didn’t even manage to curse. The world turned upside down and the last words he heard were ‘sorry pal, you’ll need like ten of these.’

And then the world went silent.

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“When I wake up – if I’m gonna wake up like myself again –, I‘m gonna ask someone to punch you,” Matt growled, watching his own body crumbled on the couch. That son of a bitch-

Tony Stark didn’t even have the decency to look guilty and shrugged.

“Sure thing, DD. Or MMM? Gotta love these alliterations. Anyway, you might wanna sit down again. It sucks to drag Cap’s body somewhere. Lots of muscles. Which is why we need to give you so much. Fast metabolism and shit.”

“Matt, I volunteer,” Foggy informed him stiffly and it took Matt a moment to realize what ‘call to arms’ Foggy was responding to.

“I think I’ll just find him when my senses are back too normal and hit him myself. It would be more satisfying,” Matt hissed, but sat down on the couch, getting ready to be dosed with what would probably be enough medication to bring down a horse. Or an elephant. Or the whole herd of elephants.

“Kinky.”

“Tony, please…” Doctor Banner cooled down his sassy friend, his hand massaging the bridge of his nose. “Just… do it, since you already set the plan in motion without, you know, asking for permission.”

“Non-consensual drug use. You’re drugging him against his will. Matt, you can have the punch. I’ll just sue his ass off.”

Despite the annoyance and anger, Matt couldn’t help but grin at his best friend’s note.

“You just got yourself a deal, counsellor.”

“Cute. Now sweet dreams, Cinderella.”

“I’m pretty sure that was Sleeping Beauty…” Matt murmured and it was the last coherent sentence he was able to say, because next thing he knew, he felt several stings, warmth enveloped him in a blanket and his eyelids started feeling too heavy. He couldn’t fight the natural response of Steve’s body and his own – it didn’t want to yield.

On the other hand, the amount of drugs that had just been pumped into him was way too much to handle.

Foggy was kind enough to hover over him; so it was him what Matt potentially saw as the last thing and not the smirk on Tony Stark’s face.

And then… darkness greeted him like an old friend, painting everything in black.

Still, he could hear the annoying voice of the billionaire. “Well, at least he admitted he was a princess…”

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Part 7

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Tags: @mermaidxatxheart

@igobypoet

#marvel #fanfiction #mcu #steve rogers #matt murdock #captain america #daredevil #bodyswap #steve rogers fanfiction #matt murdock fanfiction #think again when you stop freaking out #anika ann

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theplumsoldier · 5 years

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STAY THE NIGHT

Request: Anonymous asked: Hey x Can I request "just... stay for the night." with Negan x wife reader? I don't know if you still write Negan but if you don't, that's totally fine. The last thing I'd want is to make you do something you don't wanna do. I love your writing and thank you! ☺️❤️

A/N: took a long time and for that im sorry but i do hope i kind of lives up to your expectations or at least suffice, thanks for dedicating me your time

Pairing: negan x reader

Word count: 1882

Warnings: angst, vulgar language.

Negan realized that this time, he for sure had managed to sufficiently piss off his most admired wife, even if so it happened she attempted to hide her anger beneath the strong and stiff layer of a coated smile, gleamy eyes, and sweet dismissing voice. That was her usual way of managing, however now—now was not a time of such and she was in fact not merely angered consequent to his actions, no Y/N she was furious.

“And telling you this I must admit that until now it just may have been fear keeping me from bringing this into light, but your actions, words—not just toward me but the way you so seem to wallow in others’ dismay, it’s too much. You’re too far over the line, Negan, always glorying in the fear you put in their minds, as if the dead weren’t enough, you go and bash heads in to make a point! And even so, when you’re not running around showing what power you possess, you humiliate us, make us uncomfortable and you enjoy crossing people—that power you feel brushing your veins knowing very well if you desired so, they would lie dead at your feet. It’s where you get off, is it not?”

Your harsh, unyielding tone was enough to shut him up and from the way, his the crease between his eyebrow had let up and eyes pointed at the ground, you understood you had set his mind working. The rumination was evident in his the trepidation of his feet and his hand wandered to rub the side of his neck. The deep furrow returned and his lips parted.

“Perhaps you should lie down,” suggested he in a hushed, hoarse voice and offered his hand. He too had been yelling, although now it was your turn and it took everything in him not to let the defensive anger get the better of him. If anyone was a worthy advocate of alcohol it was Negan, and being more than vaguely familiar with the substance you held by the neck, he too, knew of its effect thus where this bold truth originated from.

“Have I really figured you out, is that it? Are my presumptions fairly mistaken? Am I stubborn to make these accusations or am I stubborn to speak of them?”

“Y/N,” he spoke, warning you to not go on but you had him. You had him right where you wanted and this was the moment of truth where if not everyone would be exposed to his self, you would and perhaps that would earn you some respect.

That was at least if you did not get yourself relegated.

Then again the world was doomed and you could not care less; not in this befouled state in the least.

“Let’s clean you up and get you to bed, okay?”

When he went for your wrist, Negan was surprised when you lashed out for him, the bottle falling from your hand and spilling on the fine carpet beneath you. Nonetheless, with no problem, he managed to evade your wrath for at was slovenly and without aim and deriving from a maudlin woman rather than a determined one. When your imbalance pushed you to the ground, he was quick to catch you in his arms.

It was not until your eyes finally brought themselves to connect with his wide, concerned ones, you realized how pathetic you must appear to him. As if he had made an advantage or invaded your personal space, you shoved Negan off of you and wen to sit on the bed as you found it impossible to stand still while tall.

He repeated your name and your hands went to your head, eyeing the nauseating liquid soaked up by the carpet. Moaning out your brood, your back collided with the large bed. One of the several perks of being a wife.

What would you have done had it not been for Negan? You did not know, truly.

You probably would lie half eaten in a street somewhere, no pride, no consciousness, no brain. Would it be better than this? It was no joyous life compared to what you believed it ought to be, but you were alive, you were somewhat happy and you had a husband who showed appreciation for you. In spite he was not yours alone, he was indeed better than the one you had left in your previous life and had it not been for Negan, you would not have all this.

You would not even have the chance of getting carelessly drunk and albeit bringing you nothing but misery in your current situation, you understood he was doing he best. He might as well rid himself of you whenever you got difficult to deal with – and that certainly was a number of times – but he never did. Negan never considered doing so, for he enjoyed your company more than anyone’s—even now as you dug into his torn heart, practically bringing him to his knees as you pointed out the worst in him, he rather would be with you than another wife. You were not just a wife, you were the wife. You were his wife and when it came to it, you were proud to be just that.

Your cheeks were wet, you noticed just then.

“I’m not crying,” stated you, more for yourself than Negan.

You could hear him moving around in your room but you did not care enough to look up as you wiped your eyes.

“I didn’t say you were.”

“I don’t cry.” You were insistent and whilst you knew as much as Negan that you had nothing to prove, you felt compulsory to convince yourself you were better than what you currently appeared to be.

Then you discerned how late it was must be for it was dark out – it had not been when you had begun drinking – and your throat was sore, from the yelling, from the crying, from the hard liquor.

“Leave.”

Negan placed the bottle he had collected from the floor on the top of your dresser, his finger brushing the red petal of a rose standing tall and lonesome in a vase as he craned his neck. “What?”

“Your presence is disturbing—I cannot think,” enunciate you, your voice sharp and snappy but laced with this slur.

Dismissive of your words, Negan sauntered around the dim room, cleaning up the mess you had made during the process of your pitiful rage. Going on and cursing his being as you were there in your bed, Negan blocked out your voice, hearing nothing but a buzz over the sound of his thoughts. None of it mattered anyway. At least no more than those other times you had made it clear how little you liked him. This time was only contrasting to the rest as he was merely taking it all in, agreeing with some to for you did seem to have him figured out. And though he hated that, even felt anger toward you for seeing right through him, he simply listened.

He did enjoy the control. Who wouldn’t? he thought and a point stuck to that. He was only dissimilar from the rest because he had been the one fierce enough to claim it. He had built his way through this horrific world, trotted down his path and killed to get to the top, he had made his name known. Now he had it and it was something to be savored.

“Lie on your side,” said Negan finally and you groaned out as if you had not just prayed he would respond to your insults. This was not the reaction you wished for, yearned even; your blood was boiling, you wanted his to do the same. You had been screaming at him, spilling your emotions in such a poignant sense. You were alone at this moment and to you, it was a vulnerable one.

“Stop telling me what to do.” Groaning, you shifted and tugged on the sheets around you. You eyes were fixated on the ceiling and the alcohol coursing your system enabled you to feel the rotation of the world. At least it felt like it while you were still on your back. “I’m not sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.”

You were right.

Only you were not well within your rights to point his insecurities out, bring him down like so and make him loathe himself. It was brutal to his ears, but not alien. You were delineating him immaculately.

Negan was also aware this was how you vented. In spite of never witnessing you like this, he understood it was how you vented. Through alcohol and brutal honesty and he related to that on an unhealthy level. Seemed you managed to withstand a tad more force, however, seeing as this must be your first tantrum compared to his several. He found a certain form of rescue in sex whereas you were softer than that, more delicate. He was not good at that, or solely not bosom with that which was why he figured you rather would be alone; cry this one out on your own.

“Do you want me to help you out of your clothes before I leave?”

Your head turned to the side, the rest of your body following the movement and you drew in a sharp breath. “You don’t have to leave.”

“Didn’t you just—”

“No, no,” whined you out and sat up against the headboard making a “thump” sound as it paralleled with the wall. “Just stay the night.”

He shifted and Negan’s tongue darted over his lips, clearing his throat as his feet carried him to the side of your bed. Studying your figure spread out, tears staining your cheeks, red beneath and puffy lips, his head tilted.

“You’re so difficult.”

“So are you,” responded you and broke a slight smile but hid it just as it aired.

“I never know where I have you,” Negan admitted and sat beside you, his hand sliding across the smooth silk but you moved away, your back turned on him but you made room for him to take up the space—an invitation.

“That’s because I’m not yours to have.”

But you were, you knew that, too. It was part of the deal, it was the reason for your well thriving.

“I respect you.”

It sounded like a confession, like words he should not have spoken but they did not slip. Negan did not acknowledge the fact because he needed to make anything up to you, not because you needed to hear that but because he realized that just then and there. And you were the only of his wives in which he respected, perhaps the only person in the Sanctuary that he respected the reason as to why were countless.

The shift in the bed indicated he was beside you, but he did not touch you. His breathing was heavy and soothing, and exhaling with a sigh you turned to face him and put your hand on his heart. Soon your breathing matched his and your eyes grew heavier, lids closing in on you only allowing you a final peak of his beauty before you were to drift off.

“I know you do.”

#negan #the walking dead negan #negan twd #twd negan #negan fanfiction #theplumsoldier #twd #jdm #jdm smut #negan smut #twd smut #twd negan smut #jeffrey dean morgan

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canyousevmyheavydirtysoul · 5 years

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Bodyguard II: Familial Ties (Part I - Chapter 11) (Brendon Urie x Reader)

“You run extensive background checks on all of your agents. You knew about this.”

“It was more suspicion than cemented knowledge, Agent,” The Director’s hologram answered with a tilt of the head and a raised eyebrow, “Your father was a genius. Covered his tracks exceptionally well. There’s virtually no record of your family history. For all I know, you probably don’t even exist.”

Brendon, who was pacing up and down the conference room, waved a dismissive hand. “But you knew.”

Fury straightened his posture and raised his head so that his eyes looked down on his currently disarrayed agent. “I assumed. And I made the choice to take you in because I saw great potential. One of the best decisions I’ve ever made.”

Brendon only offered a nod in response, his mind still spinning as he tried to fully come to terms with the new information regarding his genealogy. Fury, noticing that Brendon was unusually anxious, decided to put his mind at ease.

“Brendon,” he started with a firm tone; the use of his first name and not ‘Urie’ or ‘Agent’ made Brendon turn every ounce of his attention to his boss, “the very best of you, the parts that everyone admires and most people fear – that has nothing to do with no mutant gene. That’s one hundred percent you. Don’t let this mess with your head. Things will only change if you allow them to – you’re the one who has full control over your life; don’t hand that control over to the gene. ‘Cause if you do, then your father wins, and you’re better than that. You’re better than him, and you’re better than your brother. Don’t, for even a second, stop believing in yourself. ‘Cause I sure as hell never will.”

Inhaling deeply and rubbing his hands over his tired face, Brendon nodded his head to show that he understood. In that moment, The Director had said exactly what he needed to hear, and he had never been more thankful for the man.

“Thank you, sir,” he breathed shakily.

“Don’t mention it, son,” Fury spoke softly, before once again firming his tone, “Now, get rid of that sentimentality – it’s unbelievably uncomfortable for me to see you so sensitive. Bring me my ominous agent back.”

“He never left, sir,” Brendon informed, and just like that, he switched back to his usual, ice-sculpture state, “So what should I do with the prisoner?”

Fury scoffed and shook his head lightly. “Don’t ask me. This ain’t even an official, S.H.I.E.L.D-sanctioned mission, Agent.”

“Right,” Brendon cleared his throat.

“Although, off the record,” Fury cocked one brow and smirked somewhat, “While I’d appreciate having The Phantom Warrior under S.H.I.E.L.D surveillance, locked away where he can’t hurt anyone… I do understand the abnormal circumstances. So,” he looked at Brendon and gave a curt nod, “you do whatever it is you need to do, Agent.”

“So he literally gave his blessing for you to murder the guy?” Dean scoffed, face showing his blatant disbelief.

“Pretty much,” Brendon replied with a bored voice as he rummaged through the cabinets in the kitchenette in search of the last of the protein bars.

“Are you gonna do it?” Dean pressed, leaning forward from his seat on the countertop; he was far too invested in the situation.

“No.”

“Can I do it?”

“No,” Brendon groaned, sighing happily when he found the snack and working his fingers along the packaging to open it. “No one is killing anyone today.”

“Aw, but I’d do such a good job,” Dean all but whined, angrily knocking his dangling leg against the door of the counter.

Brendon took a bite from the bar, chewed and swallowed it before answering. “I know you would. And believe me, I hate him. I want to kill him, and I probably will. But not yet.”

All three of The Hounds temporarily halted their respective movements – swinging their legs, chugging down a beer, tossing a baseball against the wall – and turned to exchange worried glances between them. The day that they had dreaded for the past four years had devastatingly arrived.

“You’ve gone fucking soft!”

Brendon’s jaw immediately stopped working to chew the protein bar, and his head snapped in the direction of Rollins to deliver an inexplicably evil glare.

“I have not,” he hissed venomously, “gone fucking soft.”

“Dude,” Dean chuckled giddily, readily nodding his head in a show of support of his friend’s bold exclamation, “You’ve gone soft.”

Brendon squinted his eyes and ran his tongue over his teeth. “Yeah?” he asked softly. “How about we head downstairs to the sparring room and then we’ll see just how soft I’ve gone?”

“Hey, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Rollins soothed, stepping forward as he arched his brows and held his hands up in defence, “Happens to the best of us at times.”

With his patience wearing thin, Brendon drew in a deep breath, looked up to the ceiling and skewed his mouth to the side. Once he was able to get his temper under control, he looked at each agent in turn.

“Please… do not come for me like that again. Else the only murders I’ll be committing will be yours.”

Mason was unequivocally dumbstruck, watching with the utmost attentiveness as Brendon loosened the restraints around the assassin’s limbs as The Hounds stood in battle formation behind their colleague, ready and willing to attack should the need to do so arise.

“What’s this?” he questioned with a frown, hesitant to make any movements for fear that he’d misinterpreted the situation.

“Alright, listen to me and listen well,” Brendon sighed, raking his fingers through his hair, “What I’m about to do goes against all of my better instincts and to be quite honest, I have no idea why the hell I’m about to do something so stupid.”

Mason perked up noticeably, chancing an upward curve of his lips. “You’re letting me go?”

Another sigh from the brooding agent.

“Much to the dismay of the three gentlemen standing behind me,” Brendon gently cocked his head in the direction of The Hounds, “yes. But not without conditions…”

Brendon stalked forward, radiating intimidation, and forcing his brother to lean back into the uncomfortable chair as he rested his hands on his shoulders.

“You run. You hide. You disappear. You don’t go back to working for Hydra and if you do, I will hunt you down and I will kill you,” Brendon threatened, his heavy stare looming over the older Urie. Mason could tell that his brother was as serious has he’d ever been and he dared not challenge him.

“And,” Brendon continued, “you do not – under any circumstances – ever try and insert yourself back into my life, in any way at all. If you do, I’ll kill you even worse. Nothing has changed between us, Mason. You helped me, yeah, but I still feel nothing for you. And I will never forgive you.”

Nodding slowly, Mason relayed that he understood. He had something to ask, though, and even though he knew that he was in an incredibly volatile situation at present and his upcoming inquiry could cause it to take a turn for the worst, his arrogance took over and he couldn’t stop himself from speaking.

“Then why are you letting me go?”

“Because I know you’re bound to fuck up at some point, and I take great pleasure in knowing that you’re out there sleeping with one eye open, knowing that when you do,” Brendon stood up straight and took a few steps backwards, giving the tiniest of smirks, “your little brother will show up to kick your ass even worse than our father did. Get rid of him.”

Brendon tossed a glance at The Hounds, and the three agents obediently started for the assassin.

“You can deny me all you want, Bren,” Mason called after his brother, who was already halfway out of the door, “but you’ll always be my little brother.”

✧ ✧ ✧

The next day.

“Still think that you made the biggest mistake of your life,” Ambrose drawled, spinning around on an office chair.

“Still didn’t ask for your opinion,” Brendon replied, not lifting his gaze from his laptop, most likely engaged in some form of electronic correspondence with Dallon.

Roman and Seth entered the room then, with Seth taking a seat across from Dean and Roman walking over to the mini-fridge to grab a couple bottles of beer and distribute them to the rest of the guys.

“Alright, boss,” Seth clicked his tongue and took the beer that Roman held out to him, “We dumped your dickhead of a brother in the furthest, most remote corner of the planet. What happens now?”

Brendon pursed his lips and exhaled through his nose, scanning the screen to read over the last message he’d received from Dallon before averting his attention to The Hounds.

“I have no fucking idea.”

The room went silent after Brendon’s admission, with each agent being just as bewildered as the next. They’d spent the better part of a year on this mission, and now that it was over, the complications of it all finally sank in.

“Okay, I’m gonna go out on a limb here,” Ambrose broke the silence after a few minutes, throwing his arms out as a haughty look swept over his face. “How about we – just hear me out, here – how about we do the unthinkable…” he trailed off for dramatic effect, biting his lip and holding up one finger before delivering the punch line, “And go back to HQ.”

The Lunatic suddenly leapt up out of his seat, gasping loudly and mockingly covering his mouth as if he’d just said something unmentionable. Seth rolled his eyes at his friend’s teasing and hurriedly shoved him back into his seat.

Brendon readily shook his head to show his distaste over the suggestion. While it was the usual protocol to return to S.H.I.E.L.D HQ after every mission, the unconventional way this mission had come to be left Brendon with a great deal of problems surrounding his return home.

“No,” he said, “I’m not ready to go back yet.”

Each of his colleagues nodded in understanding, and Roman offered a solution to their current ‘in limbo’ predicament.

“I’ll make a call to The Director,” he spoke, already moving to the next room, “see if there’s any operations we can consult on.”

Brendon nodded to show that he was on board before looking at the laptop screen, sighing and slamming it shut.

✧ ✧ ✧

Three months later. Moscow, Russia.

“…I mean, I think that he’s just nervous, ya know? And with good reason, too,” Seth scoffed, sitting in the passenger seat of the SUV, with Roman in the driver’s.

Unseen by both of the men, their fellow Hound had just rounded the corner into the alley they were parked at the end of, waving his hands and shouting in an attempt to get their attention, as a group of angry henchmen chased after him.

“START THE CAR!” he yelled, waving his hands wildly, “REIGNS! ROLLINS!”

Seth and Roman were far too engrossed in their conversation to hear the muffled shouts of their friend from outside.

“I don’t know, uce,” Roman thinned his lips and shook his head, casually leaning his arm against the inside of the car door, “I think the sooner he gets back, the better.”

“START THE CAR! START THE FUCKING CAR!”

“Yeah, but can you imagine the shit that’s gonna go down when he does?” Rollins arched his brows and leaned forward a bit, “Like-“

“START THE MOTHERFUCKING CAR!” Ambrose screamed as he threw himself forward, the top half of his body crashing through the backseat window, startling the other two and finally kick-starting their reactions.

Roman started the car immediately and tramped on the accelerator just as the henchmen opened fire. Fortunately, Seth had pointed his Glock out of the window and got some fatal shots in, himself, allowing them to get away.

Dean groaned in pain as he manoeuvred the rest of his body into the backseat and shifted himself up amidst the shards of glass.

“Nice to know I can always count on you assholes to act quickly,” he said sarcastically, groaning some more as he picked pieces of glass out of his reddened skin.

“Hey, you’re alive, aren’t you?” Seth quipped, briefly glancing back to make sure that his friend was, in fact, okay.

Dean snorted. “Barely.”

There was a resounding thud that echoed through the car – a sound effect to accompany the sudden dent on the roof of the vehicle. Seth and Dean immediately drew their weapons, aiming them at the windows and the roof, ready to attack.

Then, the other backseat window was smashed, as Brendon swung from the roof and into the car feet-first.

Sighing in relief upon seeing that it was only the fourth agent, Rollins and Ambrose lowered their guns.

“You’re a bit too late for that to be awesome, dude,” Dean scoffed, holstering his weapon, before pointing to himself and nodding, “I did it first.”

“I did it better.”

Dean’s smug smile turned into a frown and Brendon shot him a wink before leaning forward and patting Roman on the shoulder.

“You might wanna floor it, Reigns. I wasn’t exactly a polite guest.”

Roman shook his head and mumbled under his breath. “The fact that we’re all still alive amazes me.”

Brendon was about to respond with a snarky remark, but the ringing of his cell cut him off. Checking the caller ID, he breathed out tiredly before answering.

“I know I’m miraculous, sir, but another mission already?”

“Brendon, this isn’t about a mission.”

The Director’s voice had an underlying tone of worry to it, and that coupled with – once again – the use of his first name, brought Brendon to full attentiveness.

“What’s wrong?” he asked firmly.

The response brought Brendon’s entire world to a standstill.

ᴇɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪ

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x

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24 notes · View notes

botanistlester · 6 years

Text

Prestissimo

Summary: When Dan starts to get notes in his locker in the form of terrible pick up lines, he doesn't know who it could be and he doesn't really care. All he cares about is his violin and his studies. He could care less about the nonchalant cellist who never seems to take anything seriously. Word Count: 3118 Warnings: cussing A/N: This was supposed to go up on valentine's day, but it's only two and a half hours late so it's better than nothing! I really wanted to get this up because it's my dear friend Mae ( @dandelionisonfire)'s birthday on Valentine's Day, and I really wanted to give her a birthday present in the form of a fic to show my appreciation to her. We've only started talking a few weeks ago, but I feel like we've gotten along so well so fast and I'm extremely grateful for that. I appreciate her and our long rambles on skype, and how she watches all of my dumb singing videos without question. Thanks for being awesome, Mae. I can’t wait to meet you! Jeg elsker deg og gratulerer med dagen xoxo (special thanks to @flyingstarshowell for the prompt and @phandommother for helping me hash out the idea)

Read it on AO3

The first time that Dan got a letter inside of his locker, he thought it was a joke.

It wasn’t like it was just a normal letter. Maybe if it had said something like “hey, nice shoes,” then Dan would be more accepting of it, but no. It didn’t say that. Dan would have preferred the shoes thing to this disgrace, in all honesty, because it would have saved his face from turning a disgusting splotchy red in the middle of the orchestra locker room.

In curling letters that was somewhat sloppy but not too terribly hard to read, someone had scrawled Dan’s name, along with a short message that said, “I C Major potential in us getting together.”

Dan glanced around the room to see if the culprit was there, which was pointless because it was after school hours so the only other people around were the other four members of Dan’s quintet. They weren’t even in the locker room, having already gone to one of the practice rooms to start setting up. Dan was all alone with one of the worst pick up lines in the history of pick up lines and his violin, and now he just wanted to go home and bury himself in his blanket. He didn’t want to practice anymore.

He was embarrassed and mortified, because what if somebody was playing a trick on him? It’s not every day that Dan got notes like this shoved in his violin locker, and it was beyond rare for someone to actually like him enough to want to do this for him. But then again, did they even like him if it was just a simple pick up line? Wouldn’t they rather write Dan an entire love letter?

Dan didn’t know and he didn’t really want to find out.

Making up his mind on the subject, he crumbled it up and shoved the paper into his pocket. Out of sight, out of mind. It was probably just a one-time thing anyways. He didn’t need to have the extra stress of poorly written pick up lines when he had more important things to focus on, like his studies and his violin.

In Dan’s opinion, getting good grades and playing his violin was the number one goal in life at the moment. If he got good grades, then he’d get into a good university. If he played the violin better than anybody, he could get a scholarship to one of the best music schools. So he’d focus on grades and violin and that was it. He didn’t need anybody else to interfere with his future.

He made his way into the practice room, carefully holding his instrument by the neck and his bow in the other hand. When he walked into the class, his fellow quintet was standing by the bass stands as Bailey grabbed her bass and Phil leaned against the wall with his cello leaning against the wall as well. Dan cringed at the sight of that, hoping with his entire heart and soul that the cello would not fall over and break. Knowing Phil, he would just laugh and pick it back up while Dan got an aneurism in the background.

Dan kept an eye on the cello as he greeted the violist, Mae, and the other violinist, Oliver. They were talking about cats, which is something that Dan could definitely get behind, and just gave Dan a friendly nod as he joined them.

He liked everyone in the quintet, for the most part. The only person that he really had a problem with was Phil. They both had opposing personalities, which was a tricky subject when it came to them. Because they were in a quintet together, that meant they had to spend literally every day together. They were in orchestra together during school, had the same group of people they hung around, and then they spent an insane amount of time together after school just practicing in the quintet together.

Yet Dan couldn’t stand Phil. Phil didn’t take his music seriously, he was just doing this for fun because he had nothing else to do. Whereas Dan took this very seriously and loved music with his every being and played every piece by the rules, Phil was unruly and didn’t care about the rules. He was too expressive and free when he played, even translating piano music to the cello when it was supposed to be the fucking piano. When Dan got worked up about it and how the music is written for piano and therefore is supposed to be played on the piano, Phil just shrugged and did a little half smile as he nonchalantly said, “Yeah, well isn’t it our job as musicians to interpret the music in the way we want to? It’d get boring otherwise.”

A disgrace! Phil was a disgrace! Dan even overheard him nonchalantly telling somebody that he played the cello before like it was no big deal and he had no pride.

Dan despised that.

Phil should be proud of his instrument. He should want to boast about how well he played and how he was in the best quintet in the school, picked specially by their teacher to perform in different competitions. It wasn’t easy for people to get into such a spot like this, and yet Phil had, but he didn’t even care about it.

Phil nodded politely at Dan as he joined him. “Sup?” Phil asked, and Dan resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Hi,” Dan replied dryly, grabbing his music stand and setting up. He didn’t really like to talk much to the other people in his quintet, although he was friendly towards them. They were a nice bunch, but Dan didn’t form bonds with people easily and he was just there for the music, nothing else.

However, this practice, he had trouble getting into the music for a good thirty minutes. He could practically feel the paper in his pocket burning a hole through his clothing, and he wanted to forget about it, but he just couldn’t. He couldn’t get the words out of his head, couldn’t stop wondering who the handwriting belonged to. With each stroke of his bow, he would be zoning out, staring at the notes but not really processing anything else.

Eventually, he did manage to forget about it, losing himself to the music, but he felt strange about it. It was to be expected, after all. It wasn’t every day that Dan got a pick up line in his locker, and he doubted that this happened to many people at all.

The pick up lines didn’t stop at the first one either. Soon enough, Dan had gotten one every day for an entire week. They ranged from things like ‘aside from being sexy, what do you do for a living?’ and ‘is your name microsoft because you can crash at my place anytime.’ They all varied in corniness but they made Dan smile nonetheless, mostly because he could hardly believe this was happening to him.

At this point, Dan wasn’t sure if it was a joke anymore. If it was a joke, then it was a really fucking good one and somebody was extremely committed to it. Dan would find the notes in his locker most of the time, the note just waiting for him on top of his violin case. Whenever he looked around, there would be nobody waiting for him, nobody who he could question about if they were his secret admirer or not.

Today, though, when he pulled out the note, Phil suddenly appeared, peering over his shoulder. “What’s that?” he asked in that stupid relaxed voice that Dan hated so much. Dan shuffled away from Phil slightly because Phil was so close that Dan could feel his warmth, could smell his cologne clogging his senses. Yeah, Dan may hate the dude but he wasn’t blind and he was fucking gay. “A love note?”

“Oh fuck off,” Dan snapped, snatching the note away from Phil’s sight before he could read it, but he knew he was too late as Phil chuckled and raised his eyebrows.

“You had me at cello?” Phil asked, and then he was laughing so hard that his tongue poked out of his mouth and his hands were clutching at his stomach.

Dan’s cheeks turned red and he scowled, shoving the note into his pocket and away from Phil’s line of vision. “Shut the fuck up!” Dan snapped, pouting out his lip and slamming his violin locker shut. “The notes that I get are none of your business and it’s rude of you to look over my shoulder like that.”

Phil stopped laughing abruptly and frowned. It was the first time that Dan had ever seen him look so serious, even after he had known him at a close proximity for such a long amount of time. His lips were turned downwards and he even had a slightly concerned look in his eyes. Who knew that Phil, so carefree all the time, could look like this once in a while? “Sorry, Dan,” he said sincerely, ducking his head. The action made his black hair fall into his eyes and Dan’s heart was suddenly in his throat. For some reason, he didn’t like when Phil made that expression. Phil should always be carefree. Not… like this. “I was just trying to kid around with you, but I won’t do something like that again if it makes you uncomfortable. I never meant to make you feel like that.”

The hand that was holding his violin tightened and Dan found himself nearly choking on his spit. It wasn’t really such a big deal, and yet he had been making it out to be something terrible just because he disliked Phil. Dan always tried to pride himself on not being too horribly mean to anybody, but here he was getting his panties tied in a bunch just because Phil saw some stupid pick up line for Dan. “It’s- It’s fine,” Dan sputtered, trying to calm his stuttering heart and clammy hands. “Let’s just get back to practice, okay?”

Phil agreed and they walked into the practice room together for the first time since they joined the school’s orchestra five years ago. In all the time that they’d known each other, they had never walked in at the same time, but Dan supposed there was a first for everything. They didn’t speak to each other, just walked in, joining the others in conversation about how Mae was going to Saint Petersburg over the summer.

When Dan played his violin that day, he felt as though he couldn’t focus on the music. Although he could play every note perfectly and he knew exactly when to crescendo and when to rest, his heart wasn’t in it and his mind was elsewhere. He was hyper aware of the way Phil was standing close to him, his eyebrows furrowed, suddenly seeming more serious about the music than he ever had before.

For some reason, Dan didn’t think that it was the music Phil was so serious about. He didn’t know why that bothered him so much.

It didn’t involve him. It didn’t involve him.

Dan knew his day was going to be different the moment he failed to get a note in his locker.

He looked all over, from underneath his violin case, to the lockers surrounding his, and even on the floor. No note. No stupid pun that would tell him why he was cute or why he and this mystery person would be great together.

He tried not to let it get to him, he really didn’t, but it was hard because for over a week, he was used to laughing at the dumb pick up lines, and now he felt like he’d gotten this little secret stripped away from him as soon as he was getting used to it. It hurt. Perhaps his admirer had gotten tired of him. Perhaps they’d seen just how utterly boring Dan was, how he only cared about grades and violin, and they didn’t want to put up with that. Perhaps they really had been doing it just for laughs.

Without meaning to, Dan slammed his locker shut and flicked the lock closed. Doing so made Phil, who had been chatting to Oliver, jump. They both turned towards Dan, staring in surprise as Dan whipped around and began to stalk towards the music room. His sadness had turned to anger and for once in his life, he really wanted to smash his dumb violin to pieces.

How could he think someone could actually like him for once?

As he grabbed a music stand and began to lay out his sheet music, a presence at his side notified him of Phil, who was cradling his cello to his body and cocking his head in concern. It made Dan even more annoyed because somebody like Phil - who never cared about anything - was even worried about Dan.

How sad.

“You okay, Dan?” Phil asked gently, and Dan angrily slammed his sheet music onto the stand, flipping to a random page to make himself look busy.

“Peachy, thanks,” Dan snarled, trying not to take note of the way Phil flinched at his tone.

Phil stared at him, mouth slightly open with surprise, and it took everything in Dan not to tell him to fuck off. What Dan did do was give him a slightly exasperated looked, eyebrows raised expectantly. “Can I help you with something?” he asked sarcastically.

It seemed like Phil was torn, his eyes flickering over Dan’s face and then back towards the classroom door where their teacher would be walking through at any moment. He bit his lips, turning the pink skin white, and then he was running a hand through his fringe, making little strands stick up this way and that. Eventually, he seemed to not be able to hold it in anymore, and blurted out a string of words that made Dan’s eyes widen and his head snap up so fast that it nearly gave him whiplash.

“Every time you walk in the room, you make my heart play prestissimo,” Phil said quickly, stuttering a little bit. He was running his hand over the neck of his cello, making a light rubbing noise with the strings. “When I'm with you, my heart starts to syncopate. If it’s okay with you, I’d love to do a duet with you and get a coffee sometime?”

Dan gaped at him. And gaped some more. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe, like all of the air in his lungs just left his entire body. He gasped like a fish struggling for breath, and it was only after Phil started to shuffle awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, that Dan was able to even figure out an answer. “Have you been the one putting notes in my locker?” he asked dumbly, even though it was fairly obvious by now that Phil was.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you on a date for weeks- no months. No, years,” Phil replied sheepishly. When Dan just stared at him, Phil went on. “You’re not exactly the easiest person to approach, you know? I didn’t think I had a chance since you don’t like me and all.”

“Wha- don’t like you?!” Dan sputtered, as though this was news to him. But he was having trouble wrapping his head around this. “Why do you say that?”

Phil gave him an unimpressed look. “You haven’t exactly been hiding your dislike for me, Dan. You’re sassy as fuck with people you don’t like.”

That really stumped Dan there. But still. “How fucking long have you liked me? And why did you just now tell me?”

It was clear that his questions were making Phil embarrassed by the way Phil’s cheeks were turning pink and his nose was beginning to scrunch up, eyes sheepish. The rest of the quintet was joining them in the room, and it was clear they really needed to hurry this up otherwise they were going to get interrupted very soon. “I’ve liked you since I first met you, the first day we joined orchestra,” Phil told him sincerely. “You were so pretty and glowing when you decided to play the violin, and I wanted to get to know you so badly. I just didn’t think you’d want anything to do with me, but I recently realised that I’d rather at least try to woo you than to never know at all, you know?”

Dan could feel his heart begin to beat rapidly in his chest. He felt so weirdly full that he could hardly stand still. His hands messed with his instrument and he bounced a little on the balls of his feet, giddy with the cheesy proclamation.

He couldn’t believe that Phil of all people, stupid, uncaring Phil, had a crush on him. Dan! How in the hell had that happened? And how had Phil held this same crush for years?

Dan didn’t know, but he wanted to find out. That was one definite in his life that he knew for sure. So before he knew it, he was nodding wildly, grin slowly taking over his face.

“Yeah?” Phil asked, lighting up like a torch. His tongue stuck out from between his teeth and it was the most endearing thing Dan’s ever seen. “You’ll go on a date with me?”

Their teacher called them to their places, but Dan and Phil didn’t move as they grinned and stared at each other. Dan nodded once more, a bit softer, his stomach feeling like it was melting completely. “Yeah, I’ll go on a date with you,” Dan murmured quietly.

It seemed that Phil was just as giddy as Dan, because suddenly he was lurching forward and placing a kiss to the dimple that was showing in Dan’s cheek. The kiss burned, like a fire was alight in his entire body, and it was pleasant, new, exciting. Dan wanted to get to know Phil. He wanted to get to know the serious side, who was passionate about things outside of the cello. He wanted to know the goofy side that wrote dumb pickup lines on paper. He wanted to know the side of Phil that got sad about things, and about the things that made him happy.

“And Dan?”

Dan hummed, smiling as they began to make their way to their seats, instruments in hand.

“This cello isn’t the only big wooden thing between my legs, you know.”

Well, maybe Dan didn’t want to know this side of Phil after all.

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #phanfictioncatalogue #botanistfics #botanistlester #fanfic #fanfiction #phan fluff #phan gettingtogether #phan enemiestolovers #phan highschool #highschool au #phan au

592 notes · View notes

deviatingmycode · 6 years

Text

To See Through Your Eyes (Markus x OC Part 1)

//OKAY so this was specifically requested by my pal @birdy5tark and we worked together to build this RAD ASS STORY. I think its going to have 4 parts, but I’m not entirely sure. Either I’ll cut them up into more chapters or just have all the segements suuuUUUuuper long. Either way. Enjoy!//

Markus x Fem OC

3.8k Words

No trigger warnings

Read it on AO3!

It was brimming on the edge of Winter in Detroit, Cera could feel the snow in the air. She loved this time of year, the vibrant colours that contrasted the grey skies and gentle winds biting at your cheeks. Autumn was coming to a slow end but that didn't stop the city from being a bustling metropolis.

Cera's sneakers hit the ground gently as she ambled across the pavement. Tonight, she'd be hosting a cocktail party that may or may not be attended by the one and only Carl Manfred. She had adored his work for as long as she could remember. The way he managed to capture what he saw around him and within the world was... quite honestly astonishing. And tonight, she might watch him utterly destroy or make her dreams come true. She was brimming with nerves This could make or break her.

Cera had been setting up a debut of a new set of canvas paintings in the 'Carrolinous Gallery of Unique Arts'. Said gallery also held a vast Manfred collection that she'd gazed at for longer than she'd care to admit. But she never thought he'd be put on the guest list by the curator. He's often escorted by a tall android who goes by the name of Markus. Cera had never met him, but some of her more successful friends told her about him. He was soft spoken, gentle and had a very calming nature. Growing up in Florida towards the start of the Android craze, Cera had never cared for them. Well, that's a complete lie. Cera ADORED Androids, she'd always had a fascination over robotics. She thought Elija Kamski's creations were fascinating people. But, that was the difference wasn't it? She'd always considered them far more than most people wanted to. Even in their early stages, when Kamski would parade his latest prototypes to the world, she saw them as... people. It was unbelievably unsettling to watch them be bought and sold. It left a sour taste in her mouth.

She swore to never own an Android. It felt so wrong, to have a slave in your home. Someone who cooked, cleaned and did everything while getting nothing in return. Being treated like dirt, like objects. Every Android she met, she treated with as much respect as she would any other person. People thought she was weird because of it but Cera just thought it made sense. You can't build an entire new race of people and then treat them like that, it was disgusting. It reminded her of when parents treat their children like burdens, children who never asked to be born. Androids weren't asked to be made, they had no control over it.

The music in her earbuds blocked out everything around her, she focused on the feeling of the wind and the way little drops of water kicked up from her shoes as she walked across the wet pavement. Cera was trying to calm herself down before the party tonight, she didn't want to be too het up when she got there, or it'd be a disaster. She had her methods, but she found a soothing walk just before she needed to get ready helped, most of the time, to drown out all the other noise before she'd have to face a room full of very loud, very nosy people. "Serves me right for being in the art industry. These things need to happen if I want to get my work out there." She mumbled to herself, only just hearing herself above her music.

Getting ready for the party was... interesting. It was a constant cycle of checking the clock, looking at the outfit she'd laid out for herself, reconsidering, asking Erica what she thought and then rinse and repeat. She huffed her bangs out of her face as she noticed the time was drawing far too close to be able to mull this over for much longer. Cera wasn't a very fashion-centered person, yet she knew making a good first impression at these types of socials was stupidly important. Yes, a lot of the art world were obsessed with personal image. She figured her art should speak for herself, but the reality of the situation meant she needed to be at least somewhat presentable. She eventually settled on a sleek red cocktail dress and some comfortable flats. Parties were uncomfortable anyway, why make her feet suffer? It was an hour before the guests were scheduled to start arriving and the curator wanted her there early so she could have a final say on the structure of the showcase; and make any last minute changes she felt necessary. She ran a hand through her dark hair, smiling at how the white tuft at the front sloped over her eyes. Cera huffed, looking herself over in the mirror. Tonight was the night.

The night she'd have to stand and watch her life-long idol scrutinize her work and most likely belittle it. Would he do it to her face? Surely not. Would he trash talk her to other artists? She let out a shuddering breath, realizing she'd been holding it in. He's not like that, surely? But then, who really knows their idols. People can have the sweetest, most distinguished outer persona but really just be monsters in disguise. She reached to her wrist where an intricate bracelet sat. It was made from strong strips of leather, stained black and swerving in-between each other in a tight weave. Speckles of red ran through it like stars in the evening sky. She fiddled with it, rolling it between her fingers as she nodded.

She settled into the back of the autonomous taxi alongside her best friend and roommate, who was furiously typing on her phone. "Getting into another fight?" She asked her, chuckling. Erica looked up at her with a steely determination. "No, I'm proving someone wrong." Cera rolled her eyes at her friend, knowing she'd be getting an earful on just who this person was and why they were the embodiment of Satan. Erica was sometimes a handful. She was very energetic and had a strong character, someone who wasn't afraid of confrontation. Her background in Biology meant she could argue and have the facts to back it up at arm's reach. This could be useful whenever someone decided to mindlessly harass Cera over a piece of her art they didn't like, but it could get a little much at times. She loved her though, she was the person to get her away from her family, who sheltered and fed her in her worst days. She, who paid for her art supplies and never stopped supporting her when she pursued her love while demanding nothing in return.

The taxi coming to a stop snapped Cera out of her dream-like reminiscing and the tight knot of nerves in the pit of her stomach quickly made a return.

The inside of the Gallery was incredible.

It was made from a repurposed Cathedral, huge panes of stained glass depicting the stories from its long-abandoned purpose decorating the inside. The company who had renovated the Cathedral refused to take them out, wanting to respect the building's history; creating an art exhibit from the building itself. The different rooms held exhibits for various artists and mediums. Sculptures, digital art, wool crafts, paintings, you name it. It was probably why Carl Manfred liked to display his work here, he never did enjoy the norm. The inside of the Gallery was awe inspiring. The huge main room was where they held their current exhibits and today, Cera's art was front and center. She had to stop the tears that brimmed at her eyes from falling. 'I'm finally getting somewhere.' She thought, a rush of emotions overwhelming her for a moment at how far she'd come.

Thankfully the Gallery had done a good job at organizing her works the way she'd planned and Cera didn't have to make any drastic last-minute changes to the set-up. It was around 7:45pm that guests started to filter in. The event technically started at 8pm but there were those who wanted to get in early before the bustle. Cera fiddled with her fingers as she looked at who was filing in. She recognized a few people but she couldn't bring herself to try and make that kind of small talk. This was already becoming hard, but she had to push through. She pushed her bangs back a couple times, catching the stray strands that tried to escape as she watched people survey the pieces she'd spent a year preparing. The canvases that told more about her than these people could ever see. She wasn't stupid, she knew many of the people here weren't interested in the art she had to offer, only what they could make selling it. Wasn't that the dream? To be successful, loved, in homes and galleries across the world?

Cera's eyes drew towards the entrance where she heard comfortable chatter and a painfully familliar voice. A lump formed in her throat and she turned towards one of her own pieces, trying desperately to act as if she were surveying the brush strokes.

"Agather, thank you for letting me know about this. I'm always pleased to see these up and coming kids and what they're coming up with. Keeps this old man feeling hopeful." Carl smiled up at the curator of the Gallery, a soft-spoken woman with fading grey hair. Her cheeks were always rosy, and she gave off a very motherly aura, it was incredibly calming. She bent down to kiss Carl's cheek. "Oh, hush you. We wouldn't dream of keeping you locked in that studio of yours, come!" Agather ushered both Carl and Markus forward into the room. Markus pushed Carl's wheelchair silently. His eyes flickered to the various pieces dotted around the room and he smiled, seeing the clear inspiration that had been taken from Carl's work. While his Master may always claim to hate these types of parties, he couldn't deny it was lovely to see those who admired his work. Carl had inspired so many artists, young and old, and Markus knew that secretly he loved these gatherings. It was the events that his own work was the highlight that bothered him. So many people simply wanting to try and cash in on Carl's popularity.

"Cera! Cera dear, I wanted to introduce you!" Agather's voice pierced Cera's mind like a bolt of lightning. The sweet woman was not the problem, it was who she knew she was with. Cera attempted to compose herself before she turned around, offering a polite smile. She couldn't help the hitch in her breath and her eyes widening as she found herself mere feet away from her idol. He looked so casual, confident even. This was something he did all the time, why would he be nervous? "Carl, this is Cera. She's one of our newest exhibiting artists. This is her debut! Cera Stark, this is Carl Manfred, a-"

"I know! Um- I mean, I uh, I'm very fond of your work, Mr. Manfred. You've been a huge inspiration to me, ever since I was small." She tried to get her words out in some sort of sensible fashion but it all ended up being rushed and shaky. Though she did have to commend herself on it being somewhat intelligible. She held her hands out, and Carl smiled up at her as he shook it, she felt her heart stop. "Thank you very much my dear, that's very humbling to hear." She desperately fiddled with her bracelet, trying to calm her rapid heartbeat. "I was interested in seeing what you youngsters were putting out into the world. Our world is built on the innovation of the young, not the traditions of the old. That's real progress." Cera smiled as a wave of relief washed over her. Carl didn't seem to be like the other stuffy artists she'd met. He hadn't let age wash over his fiery love for his craft like so many others. "I always loved to create things, e-even from when I was young. I never imagined I could end up her-" She gestured at the grand building they were stood in. "-I think 12-year-old me is having a party at the moment." She let out a nervous laugh, trying to hide how her hands shook. She looked up to Markus who was giving her a patient smile, his eyes looking... no. Was it? They just seemed to hold so much more... emotion than the other androids she'd met did. Come to think of it, she couldn't think of anywhere she'd seen this model before. She extended her hand out to Markus. "Nice to meet you as well, um, I-I'm sorry I didn't get your name." The hot sting of embarrassed hit her for not learning the name of the Android of HER IDOL, GODDAMN IT. She was sure she knew his name, but it escaped her like when you're chasing a hat in the wind. So close but always one step ahead. His smile flickered to a look of confusion for a moment before he composed himself, taking her hand and shaking it firmly. "My name is Markus, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." WOW his voice was soothing. It was like auditory silk and Cera felt a blush creep up on her.

The three were interrupted by the sound of someone tapping on a microphone to test if it works, followed by Agather's energetic voice.

"Thank you, everyone for attending tonight's debut exhibit. We have some excellent pieces tonight. A special thank you to Carl Manfred for sponsoring our gallery. We wouldn't be anywhere without the incredible people who put blood, sweat and tears into keeping this establishment together. Without further ado, please welcome Cera Stark!"

Oh Jesus Christ that was her queue.

She smiled politely at Carl and Markus before attempting to weave her way through the maze of people. Agather was stood in front of three of Cera's best paintings holding a microphone and looking at her expectantly. She slid up to the older woman and took the microphone, trying desperately to rehears her speech again in her head, delaying the inevitable for as long as she could. Before she knew it, she was stood alone in front of a crowd of people, including her idol.

Here goes nothing.

"From the first day I could pick up a pencil, I knew this was what I wanted to be. The world we live in doesn't offer a lot of control... We have rules. Rules for everything it seems. But, when I paint..." Oh god she was shaking, no, she couldn't let the wavering enter her voice. Appearance, presentation, that's what these people were looking for. She scanned the crowd and in the split second that she paused, her eyes found the gentle green ones of Markus. He had wheeled Carl close to the front of the crowd and was nodding at her, encouraging her to continue. The overboiling pot of nerves she'd become began to slow into a simmer. "When I paint, I am in control. People will try to tell you there are rules when it comes to art, force you even; to follow them. But there aren't any. Art is free, it's... It's a comfort, in many ways." She paused again, adjusting her feet and smiling across the crowd. Smiling is important, keep doing that. She thought to herself. "Tonight's pieces I present to you are the fruits of difficult, troubling times in my life. I don't celebrate them, I celebrate myself. My struggles are my own and I dealt with them. I'm still here, they didn't get the best of me. These paintings are a commemoration to my own strength, and I thank you all so much for coming to see them. Art is the thing that has always inspired me to be better, be it famous, well known masters of their trade-" She took a moment to smile down at Carl, who returned it in kind. "-or simply anonymous graffiti on an abandoned building. I am always inspired." A rupturing applause broke Cera out of her dream-like state.

Her cheeks tinted pink as Agather came to her side to give her a hug. She accepted it, despite not particularly wanting to be touched at the moment. She was filled with adrenalin at what she'd just accomplished. She never dreamed she'd ever be so lucky or brave to speak to a room of people about her art.

The night was a blur. Cera's brain went into autopilot as she was approached by various artists and curators, offering her their thoughts on her pieces. She did listen, to the best that she could. The constant chattering noise of the room acted like a white noise machine. Everything was so loud, she could hear every tiny thing. Someone accidentally clinking a glass against another as they go to pick it up, the rustling of clothes as someone reaches for a handkerchief in their pocket. The chinking of jewelry when someone tilted their head to consider the piece they were looking at.

Cera was stood in a more secluded part of the huge room, holding a cup of water as she desperately tried to ground herself. Footsteps were muffled through the sea of noise, but the gentle touch on her shoulder caused her to lurch backwards. She turned to see Markus looking down at her with concern. "I'm very sorry if frightened you. Carl asked me to ask you to come see him, so he could ask you some questions about one of your pieces." Cera gulped, tapping her leg absentmindedly. "Oh! Yes, sorry. I was in my own world. Lead the way!" She couldn't help the shakiness of her voice and she cursed herself for being so jumpy. Why did parties have to be so hard for her?

He smiled down at her and she could feel herself calming down, if just a little bit.

Markus walked effortlessly through the various people dotted around the exhibit before Cera could see Carl in front of one of her pieces. Her breathing hitched, it was the one she'd made just after...

"Art is so interesting. People can debate the meaning behind an artist's works for decades, but unless you actually ask the artist, you'll never really know. I could assume a million things about you from this one painting, but I doubt I'd be right. So, tell me my dear. What went into making this one, if you don't mind me asking?" He turned his wheelchair so that he was facing her, a look of happy curiosity dancing across his face. Cera drew in a shaky breath.

"I was h-homeless for a time. I didn't have..." She fiddled with her bracelet. She couldn't lie to Carl Manfred, but this was a hard subject to approach. "I didn't really have anywhere that I felt safe. It was a difficult time. My friend Erika... she kept me going." Her mind raced back to those nights... Nights where she couldn't sleep because it was so cold, nights where she was sure she'd never find a home again, night where... she gave up. "She offered me a place, here in Detroit. This..." She gestured to the painting. "Was the first painting I made after I found myself in D-Detroit." The lump in her throat didn't fail to leave her, the memories flooding her.

"That's very powerful." Carl simply said, his eyes scanning over the canvas. "Don't ever let anyone tell you that your struggle is what made you. Yes, struggle is what sometimes shapes us into who we are, but you clearly have a lot of talent. You turned a horrible situation into something you could master. Never let them tell you that you needed that struggle to build you, you would have gotten here without it." The sparkle in his eyes made Cera smile. Carl Manfred was truly a wonderful man, who managed to bring tears to her eyes over something SHE'D painted. He told HER that SHE had talent. She wanted to hug him and tell him how much that meant to him, but instead she opted for the brightest smile she could muster. "Thank you, Mr. Manfred, there are no words to describe how much that means to me." He nodded, turning back to the painting. "What do you think, Markus?" That made Cera stop in her tracks. She'd never heard anyone ask an Android what they thought before. Markus scanned his green eyes over the painting, his LED blinking as he seemed to take his time to analyze what was before him. "There's a powerful emotion behind this, as you've clearly stated. But you don't have to know that to see that this painting holds extraordinary value." He turned to look at her. "Not monetary, emotional." His gaze was back on the painting. "Though of course I'm sure many will be happy to have this in their home."

Cera held her hands behind her back, fiddling with her bracelet again. She couldn't quite fathom what he had said. Did Carl tell him to say that? A million thoughts ran through her head and she realized she'd been staring at him. "Thank you very much, that's really sweet of you Markus." She exchanged fiddling with her bracelet to lightly tapping her leg again. "Let's hope everyone else here have the same opinions!" She let out a laugh. Surprisingly, being around Carl and Markus was far more calming than she thought it would be. She doesn't feel she needs to impress anyone like when she talks to other people she's met at these things. Maybe he hated these as much as she did?

The rest of the evening was as she expected it to be. People sidled up to her to network. They complimented her art in the way they thought she wanted. She enjoyed the praise, of course, but it was hard to take it in when you knew the people giving it likely didn't mean it. They simply wanted to see if they could try and squeeze money out of her.

Carl and Markus stayed for a few hours, but for much less than she'd like. She said goodbye, offering a sincere smile at the both of them. They managed to make this evening far more enjoyable than it could have been, and shit. Markus probably unknowingly saved her from a terrible presentation and barrels of embarrassment. She wished she knew them well enough to thank them with a gift, but hopefully she'd see them again.

However, this wasn't the case.

This would be the first and last time that Cera would meet Markus, as he was then.

Before he went Deviant.

#detroit become human #markus x oc #dbh markus #dbh carl #dbh markus x oc #female oc #detroit: become human #to see through your eyes #tstye #part 1 #miles' writes

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puddingmcmuffin · 6 years

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For the ship and number ask, Turtlebug and (I'm being terrible because I'm throwing a lot at you) 1, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 16, 18, 31, 32, 35, 36, 39, 40, and 43. n.n

Turtlebug (Zarkon/Reach Ambassador(Talak))

1. How do they fall asleep? Wake up? Any daily rituals?

Neither of them are usually the type to outright say that they want to cuddle or anything, so when they first get to bed, they give the other space. But at some point, one of them rolls over and takes the other into their arms.

If Talak is feeling cuddly, though, he’ll bring it up in a way that makes it seem that Zarkon is the needy one.

Both are pretty good at getting up early, Zarkon because he doesn’t need much sleep, and Talak because he’s just used to getting up early. It can depend on who wakes up first, but whoever does typically waits for the other to wake up before getting up.

Also kind of related, I was asking my friend how well Zarkon would do with cold, and she told me that not only would he need all of the space heaters and blankets, but he would also drag Talak underneath the covers and use him as a space heater.

3. Are they open about their relationship? How do they feel about public displays of affection?

Like most of the Ambassador’s relationships, it needs to be kept secret. He’s a diplomat and really isn’t supposed to be getting to know Zarkon beyond a professional relationship.

If it’s just a fling, it’s more of an open secret. But if it looks like there are actual feelings between the two, that would be when the Reach Homeworld guys would get worried, since they can’t have their Ambassador be emotionally compromised.

Zarkon in general prefers the private aspects of his life to remain just that. Public displays of affection do not happen. Baseless rumors will always be there, of course, of what he and Talak actually are to each other, and those he doesn’t bother to have silenced. To go out of his way to assure people that he isn’t messing around with the Ambassador would only prove that there was something going on, so by simply ignoring those rumors while they’re flying around means that most people will ignore that idea as well.

(There are probably people who secretly hope it’s real though, and have probably written fanfictions about them (Varkon’s probably read some of them))

4. First impression of each other? Was it love at first sight?

NOPE.

Zarkon’s first inclination when he saw Talak was to get pissed off, since he thought the Reach had sent Talak as an insult (it was the clothes). As for Talak, he figured that Zarkon had a really huge ego, since Haggar was doing most of the talking when they first met (figuring that Zarkon just thought he was “too good” to talk directly to him).

Talak did think he was pretty attractive, hence why he started trying to mess with Zarkon’s head almost immediately, to see how he would react and also if he could get something out of it.

5. Nicknames? Pet names? Any in-jokes?

Zarkon tries to use the line Talak first used on him a lot (the “something beautiful” thing), although it doesn’t always make a lot of sense for the situation and Talak makes fun of him for it a little.

7. What annoys them the most about their partner? Would they change it if they could?

Talak doesn’t like how often Zarkon goes to see the gladiatorial matches, mostly since they’ve gotten to a point that Talak needs to go with him, and he just really, really hates going to those things. He’s annoyed that Zarkons seems to actually like them, and while he understands wanting a distraction from the duties of being emperor, it would be nice if he could find something else to give his attention to.

Zarkon at times feels that Talak is not entirely genuine when they are alone. That might just be something that is inevitable, though, since Talak’s job as an Ambassador means that he constantly needs to be making people happy, and therefore, sometimes the things he says just feel fake.

Zarkon also wishes Talak would at least cover his stomach (but if he mentions it, Talak will counter with “but I thought you liked it considering how you were staring at me that one time”).

8. What do the like best about their partner?

Both like the physical traits of the other; Zarkon thinks Talak is beautiful, and Talak thinks Zarkon has a rugged handsomeness.

Zarkons also likes Talak for his intellect, and how fast he can pick up on something. He also admires that Talak was never afraid of him, despite the fact that Zarkon could easily destroy him if he really wanted to.

Talak has a preference to big muscles and deep voices, so there’s that. He also likes the serious air Zarkon has around him (that Talak will break just to see him try not to get flustered).

16. Do they keep secrets? Lie? Cheat?

Secrets are inevitable in their relationship. Although it’s never been said outright, their treaty was made for the sole purpose of finding a weakness in the other. The Reach are looking for a way to destroy the Galra from within, and the Galra are doing the same with the Reach. For that reason, certain secrets can never be shared.

Both have also kept quiet about secrets more personal to them. Talak once asked what Zarkon’s relationship was to Haggar, and Zarkon, knowing that he couldn’t give a vague answer without making Talak more curious, just told him that Haggar was his oldest friend and supporter, and that she has been by his side for thousands of years. (the truth about Haggar is probably something Zarkon has never told anyone)

18. What are their dates like? How long do/did they date? Do they ever feel the need to take a break from each other?

When Zarkon isn’t trying to make Talak uncomfortable and Talak isn’t trying to mess with Zarkon’s head, they usually will just sit in private at the end of the day, drinking wine and chatting. It’s good stress-relief for both of them.

31. Do they finish each other’s sentences? Pick up any phrases or habits from each other? Know when the other is hiding something?

Zarkon found that he seemed to be using prettier language after spending some time with Talak (although it isn’t always good since he wants to maintain the image of a ruthless warlord).

They both on occasion will finish the other’s sentence, although when Zarkon does it to Talak, he’s somewhat annoyed by it. It’s fine when he does it to Zarkon, but he doesn’t like it when it’s done to him (so Zarkon does it when he wants to annoy him).

32. Do they ever get into trouble? Is it serious, or are they just mischievous?

Zarkon can technically get away with whatever he wants, considering that he’s the emperor of an entire galactic empire. But again, there’s that image to maintain, so he needs to make sure his actions aren’t out of place. Talak is also under constant scrutiny, so getting into trouble isn’t a good idea. Neither are the type to cause mischief, anyway (although Talak has considered trying to put Dawur into the gladiatorial matches, but he knows the Enforcer would actually enjoy that).

35. Do they bring out the best in each other, or the worst? Do they have a fatal flaw?

It’s hard to determine if these two can bring out “the best” in each other, since the way they view the universe is the same (and very harmful to the people that they take over). In that sense, they can be considered to be bad for each other, since all they’re doing is encouraging the belief that the universe needs to follow their ideals.

But in the case with these two, there would be no semblance of a relationship if they didn’t agree with each other on that front (no serious relationship with Talak, and no relationship at all with Zarkon, honestly). The people who would disagree with them aren’t the kind of people either would generally associate with.

36. What’s their greatest strength as a couple? Their weakness?

They’re very good at talking things out, and with diplomatic issues, they’re very good at working together. They’re also very like-minded.

Both have a good amount of pride and a bit of an ego, though (although it’s a bit worse in Talak’s case). And this is something else that is encouraged in their relationship; a little bit of an idea that they’re better than those “beneath” them (except Haggar; Haggar is deserving of the utmost respect).

(Talak is somewhat confused by what Haggar is to Zarkon, and although the answer the emperor gave him did seem truthful, it seemed like there was more to the story. He wants to know what the deal is, but is trying to find a way to find out without asking, since he’s sure Zarkon will either repeat himself or just stop talking to him about it.)

39. Who initiated the relationship? Who kissed who first? When did they realize they were in love?

Talak technically did, but as he usually does, he did it in a way that made Zarkon make the first move. Pretty much he would just bait Zarkon until Zarkon took action. So that first time they made out Zarkon initiated it, but Talak drove him to that point.

40. Any special memories? Do they have a special place they like to go to?

The places they can go while being unseen are limited; most often they’ll go to Zarkon’s throne room or a private room on the Reach flagship (or to one of their private quarters, if they can get there unseen >_> ). Any place where they can sit quietly together is special enough.

43. Do they talk often? What about?

Largely about the projects the Reach’s scientists are doing with Haggar’s druids, and how those are turning out. They also talk about the history of each of their species; where they came from, and how they got to the point where they are currently.

One night Talak went on a mini-rants about the Green Lantern Corps and how annoying they are, which then segwayed into all of the other lantern corps. Zarkon was a little surprised that with how many lantern corps there are, he had never run into even one of them.

#Turtlebug #Zarkon #Reach Ambassador #fire fira #answered!#ship headcanon ask #Voltron Legendary Defender #Young Justice #The Galra #The Reach #sorry for how long this took XP

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bananxjin · 7 years

Text

Crush // Mark Tuan x Reader

|| List ||

Word Count: 5,385 (holy shit I’m so sorry)

Also I couldn’t think of a better title RIP, this story is kind of all over the place, but I hope y’all like it anyway!

Synopsis: Mark has been acting strange ever since the “Closet Incident”.

|| Fluff/Angst/Fluff ||

☆

Going into college, (y/n) never knew what to expect. However, she never suspected that in a million years, her and the honor roll Junior student, Mark Tuan would become as close as they did.

The elevator door opened and she was greeted by Tuan’s lovely, smiling face, the same goofy smile he gave her every morning. She would’ve smiled back hadn’t it been barely half past seven AM.

“How are you always so full of energy this early in the morning?” She muttered, pulling her coat impossibly closer against her body. Mark chuckled and put his arm around her shoulders as they made their way towards the front door and would soon brace the cool January air.

“Perhaps it’s because I know I’ll get to see your grumpy face each morning?” He stated with a questioning tone.

Mark always had a way of making (y/n)’s heart do jumping jacks and her tummy feel warm and tingly.

It intimidated her.

She enjoyed the affectionate relationship they had, but it also made her want to run back to her dorm and hide under her comforters. Then again, Mark would find a way to get in so he could talk to her and prod her about her feelings.

Sure they had a funky little relationship in the beginning. (y/n) had attended the dance team tryouts in the beginning of the semester. There was a small crowd of people in the bleachers, and Mark just happened to be one of those people. Unfortunately in the midst of doing her routine, she had to jump and as she came down, her foot slipped out from under her and she landed square on her bum.

Some people gasped, others giggled. Specifically one of the judges that would determine whether or not she could get on couldn’t hardly hold back her laughter. (y/n) immediately got to her feet and bowed to the judges before she took off out of the gymnasium.

She was absolutely horrified by what happened, but then a small light came to console her, and that light’s name was Mark Tuan.

After that, Mark somehow wiggled his way into her everyday life. He was in two of her classes, they shared the same favorite restaurant, they had several mutual friends so no matter what, they somehow saw each other everyday. Eventually, he just started showing up at the front door of her dormitory and he’d walk her to class every morning. At first it annoyed (y/n). “How can one being have so much energy this early in the morning?” She’d always wondered while remaining in her usual grumpy state. But Mark never overstepped his boundaries. He’d just talk to her about all sorts of different things in the mornings. His life back home, his hobbies, his major, how his was week was going. Anything to keep her attention on him. There were even days he’d show up with coffee for the two of them.

“I thought you might need a little pick-me-up since mornings don’t seem to be your thing.” He said somewhat shyly the first time he’d offered the hot beverage. Despite it only being the beginning of October and the weather still being too warm for equally warm coffee, (y/n) really appreciated the gift. She smiled at him and gave him a small “Thank you.” as she took it from his hands.

She didn’t think much of it. Little did she know, it meant everything to Mark.

So she never actually intended to be close friends with him, it just kind of... Happened. Now she was used to this massive dork just following her around like a lost puppy, rearing his head when she least expected it, and ultimately always always always having her back.

And that was perfectly fine at first.

That was when she falsely believed she could have a platonic relationship with Mark.

Days passed, seasons changed, and Mark always remained at her side no matter what. And things felt relatively normal until her emotions hit her - Slamming into her like an oncoming train.

☆

It was the last day of last semester. (y/n) had been asked to clean up the chemistry labs before she left for her break. Her and Mark were carpooling back to the city together since they’d learned their families only lived about a half hour or so away from one another.

“Any big plans for winter break?” Mark asked, leaning on his elbows against the teachers desk. Mark relished in the moments he got alone with (y/n), and that moment was no exception. Just the two of them in this lab together, he thought. He’d had the biggest crush on (y/n) since the day she fell during dance tryouts. Seeing her every morning and walking her to class was a blessing even on the days she was cranky -- Especially on the days she was cranky.

He’d sit there and tease her and give her a hard time, and she’d pull that cute little pouty face she does.

She’d became the literal light of his life.

“I’m hoping I can sleep for the first three days.” She sighed, dropping a discarded binder on the professors desk. “Finals weeks are the worst; I hate them.” She mumbled, rubbing circles into her temples. Mark gave her a sympathetic smile and gently pat her back.

“It’s okay, (y/n),” Mark said in a wispy soft voice. “The war is over. We can finally go home.”

(Y/n) Couldn’t help but chuckle. “Thank you, Colonel Tuan.” She joked back before standing up straight and tall so she could bow to him. Mark laughed.

For the last few weeks, he’d been thinking about how he’d finally ask (y/n) out, and he’d decided he would do it over winter break. He considered doing it on Christmas Eve assuming she wouldn’t be busy. The forecast called for snow this year. Mark could only imagine how sickeningly romantic it’d be for them to be standing in the snow, drinking hot cocoa together maybe at the park somewhere, and he could confess his feelings under the dead cherry blossom trees.

Not quite as romantic as it could be if it were spring or summer, he thought.

Suddenly, laughter from down the hall could be heard coming closer and closer to them. (y/n) seemed to freeze up on the spot. “Did you hear that?” She asked softly. Mark nodded.

“The weather’s not supposed to get bad until tomorrow night, man. I just need to grab my binder and then we can go.”

“Shit.” (y/n) swore under her breath, frantically looking around the room. Mark gave her a questioning look. “What’s wrong? You act like-”

“Shut up!” (y/n) hissed as she opened the chemistry closet and pushed some lab coats aside.

Before Mark could question her behavior, (y/n) grabbed his hand and without a word, shoved him inside the closet before cramming herself in there with him. The metal door made a clanging sound as she hurried to keep them both hidden. She swore again as the door smacked her in the elbow.

“Do you mind explaining to me what you’re-”

“Shh.” (y/n) said softly as she clamped a hand to his mouth.

Marks eyes widened as the two boys they’d heard talking in the hall came walking into the classroom.

“Hmm...”

“What’s wrong? You got your binder, now let’s go.”

“It’s just that I was kinda hoping someone would be here.”

“Who? (y/n)?”

Silence.

“Dude, she’s probably left already!”

“Well I knew she was cleaning the labs for our professor today, so I thought, ya know...”

Silence again.

“Did you leave your binder in here on purpose? What, so you could just happen to run into her??”

The boys continued to bicker and debate. (y/n) slowly removed her hand from Marks face as she let out a sigh.

Poor Mark, his shoulders started getting uncomfortable so he tried to maneuver a little bit. He couldn’t stand up straight lest he wanted to use the tension rod for a pillow. His solution - Put his hands against the wall behind (y/n) and keep his head ducked.

(y/n)’s back remained against the wall as she found herself trapped by Mark. For the first time since they’d shuffled in there, Mark had looked at her, making eye contact with her, and she thought her heart might’ve stopped. He smiled sheepishly, “I’m really sorry if you’re uncomfortable.” He whispered, “We could always just... Get out of here?”

(y/n) quickly shook her head. “Not until they leave.” Mark smiled and shifted his weight to the other foot. His thigh brushed briefly against hers.

“You don’t want to see your admirer?” He joked. She sighed again, “I don’t. I mean... It’s Shownu.”

“The guy from your history class?”

She nodded. “He’s just been up my ass lately, pushing me to go out on a date with him, but he just... Won’t take no for an answer. It’s annoying.”

Mark wasn’t surprised that other guys liked her, she was so sweet and adorable, easy to talk to, not to mention she was one of the smartest students in her class. Who wouldn’t like her?

It did bother him that Shownu wouldn’t back off - In fact, it pissed him off. She felt the need to hide from him if it meant he couldn’t pester her.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I can help you. I could’ve said something-”

“Because I didn’t want to get you involved. It wouldn’t have been fair to you.”

“You’re my best friend!”

(y/n) pushed her hand against his mouth again, worried they were getting too loud.

“Be. Quiet.” Her lips read. Mark narrowed his eyes, his gaze never leaving her lips. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her right then and there.

“Did you hear something?”

“Just the sound of that blizzard getting closer to us.” The friend sighed.

“I’m sorry, dude. Look, just.... Five more minutes. And if she doesn’t show up, then we can go.” Shownu bargained.

“You’re wasting your time, man. I’m pretty sure she’s dating that Mark guy anyway.”

Their eyes met again and (y/n) quickly yanked her hand away from Marks face as if the very feeling of his skin were burning her.

“Mark Tuan?”

“Yeah. Have you seen the way she looks at him? She might as well be in love with the guy.”

(y/n) couldn’t bare the thought of looking at Mark Now. She knew he had the most smug look on his face in that moment. His shit eating grin just staring her in the face, daring her to look him in the eye.

“I hope not... Mark’s not even that good looking.”

Get fucked, Shownu, Mark thought, his smile never fading.

Mark and (y/n) listened in silence for awhile longer before Shownu’s friend had to practically dragged him out of the classroom, Shownu complaining the entire time.

The door slammed shut. (y/n) sighed and finally gathered up the nerve to look at Mark again.

She instantly regretted it.

“So, you’re in love with me, huh?”

“Shut up.” She rolled her eyes, “He just told that to Shownu so that he could leave.” She concluded, reaching out to open the door, but Mark stopped her.

He pinned her wrist against the wall. Not hard, (y/n) could easily pull away from him if she wanted to. It was his reaction that stopped them both dead in their tracks. Mark surprised himself even. Why did he do that?

(y/n) stared into his eyes searching for something. Anything. Was she... Did she actually have feelings for Mark? She’d always thought he was good looking, but could she ever see them together? As a couple?

Mark quickly released her arm from his grasp and tried to stand up. Unfortunately he forgot about that tension rod so he smacked his head into it, making him swear under his breath. (y/n) blushed. Why did she blush? Why did she even put them in this situation?

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, uh...” Mark stuttered, rubbing his hand over the spot where the tension rod attacked him.

“I-it’s okay.”

“It’s just that uhm...” Mark couldn’t seem to find the right words to say. He knew she didn’t like Shownu back, she made that much clear. So what was his excuse for stopping her other than that he wanted to continue to be this close to her?

“You... You should tell me if Shownu bothers you again. Please?” Mark asked, “I promise it won’t be any bother to me.”

(y/n) couldn’t look away from Marks flushed face. Did he himself know was blushing? Was it because he liked her or just because of the predicament that she’d put them in?

(y/n) nodded in response to his plea.

“Yeah, I’l... I’ll tell you next time.”

☆ (y/n) ☆

It felt like we’d been out in the freezing cold for hours, but we eventually made it to the building. We had awhile before our classes started, so we decided to grab a coffee and some breakfast together while we waited.

Mark didn’t say much on the way over here. We really didn’t talk much over Christmas break either. I half expected us to hang out or something, but it never happened.

I glanced up at Mark from across the table. He’d taken his gloves off and grasped the warm coffee cup in his large hands. I leaned in on my elbows and rested my chin on my hands. My eyes trailed from Mark’s fingers, up his biceps and his shoulders to his face. His big, brown eyes seemingly bore into his coffee cup as if he were looking for something.

“You look like you might be more tired than I am.” I joked. Mark looked up at me, seeming surprised that I said something.

“Are you okay, Mark? You’ve been kinda out of it all morning.” I commented. Mark shook his head “Yes”... And then briefly shook it “No”.

“I’m just tired, and... I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.” He replied solemnly. I frowned and reached across the table to grab his hands, “Do you want to talk about it?” I asked softly. His hands were limp in my own. He wouldn’t meet my gaze.

“No, it’s nothing serious.” He replied before pulling his hands out of mine. I knitted my brows together and leaned in closer to him, “Are you sure? This isn’t like you, Mark.”

“I’m fine, (y/n).” He said promptly, finally raising his head and looking me in the eye. His lips tugged up into a small smile. “I promise.”

I fell back into my seat, feeling defeated He was lying to me, I could tell.

What if it was that stupid closet catastrophe I got us into last year? I thought to myself.

The whole scene played over in my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about it over Christmas break either. Especially on days when I’d text Mark or try to call him and he wouldn’t so much as give me the time of day. The whole thing gave me anxiety. It made me wonder if this is what would ruin our friendship.

Ruin my chance to have something more with him.

The thought alone could easily bring me to tears, but I tried not to think too much about it. Especially since I was sitting right there in front of Mark.

There was an uncomfortable silence between us before he finally looked down at his phone, “You should probably be heading to class soon.” he said as he gathered his discarded breakfast.

I looked up at him, “What do you mean? Aren’t we going to class together?”

“Nah, I think I’m gonna skip today.” He replied with a big smile. I was in complete shock. What’s gotten into him?

“Th-then I could skip with you! We can have a lazy day together!” I suggested, “We haven’t done that in awhile! How about it?”

He shook his head, “Nah, it’s fine. See ya!”

He gave me a single finger gun and made a mad dash out of the cafe before I could get another word in. I sat there completely dumbfounded, staring blankly at the seat he’d been sitting in just a moment ago.

The next couple of days were killer. Mark quit walking me to class, he quit showing up to the classes we shared, he didn’t text me, didn’t call me, he didn’t even show up in mundane places I was used to seeing him in casually.

I went to his dorm to confront him one day and his roommate, Jackson answered and told me that he was in class which I knew was a bold face lie, he didn’t have a class at that time.

Jackson gave me a sad smile and leaned against his door frame. “I’m really sorry, (y/n).”

“He hasn’t spoken to me for almost two weeks, Jackson! I don’t understand what I did!” I whined, letting my head fall into my hands. I was on the brink of tears.

“You didn’t do anything, actually.”

My head snapped up at him, “What do you mean?”

He sighed, “I mean... I really shouldn’t say anything, it’s really not my place-”

“Please, Jackson.” I begged, putting my hands on his shoulders, “I need this, I need to know why Mark’s been avoiding me lately. I...”

Jackson was staring down at me with wide eyes. I sighed and let my arms fall limp at my sides. “I like Mark. I’ve liked Mark for awhile now, but I’m just... So scared to admit it or the idea of anything becoming of it." I rambled in a soft tone, worried about anyone hearing my confession.

Jackson’s hands made a light smack sound as they connected with his cheeks, his lips turned upright into a bubbly smile.

“That’s so sweet!” He exclaimed, his voice gradually getting higher. I lightly smacked him on the arm, “Shush! I don’t want to draw anyone’s attention to us.” I hissed. He smiled, “He said he was heading to that bubble tea cafe on Ninth, I think you should go talk to him about it. There’s nothing to be scared of, you and Mark have always been close.” He told me.

My smile grew so wide I thought it might crack my cheeks. I let out a small squeal and wrapped my arms around Jackson's neck, “Thank you so much!”

Jackson chuckled at my giddy mood. He waved me off as I jogged back down the hall.

Of course he’d be at the bubble tea cafe, he loves that place, I thought to myself. It wasn’t a long walk from campus so I just pulled my coat tighter against me and made my treacherous ten minute adventure down the road.

I kept going over what I should say and how I should say it in my thoughts, but nothing really seemed right.

“So Jackson told me I’d find you here?”

“It doesn’t matter how I knew, all that matters is I have something important to tell you.”

“But why have you been avoiding me? Do you feel the same way? What’s going on?”

I huffed as I made my way up the small hill. Perhaps he’d say something first? Jackson seemed to think that everything would be fine, but then I could’ve just been overlooking the whole situation. Maybe he’s just trying to help a friend in need. He’s just a wholesome friend like that.

I’ll be okay though. I’ll be okay if Mark turns me down? I mean yeah, it’ll hurt, but Mark’s friendship means everything to me. Isn’t that what I’ve been trying to avoid? ruining our friendship?

I could see the cafe up ahead. My legs seemed to feel heavier and heavier the closer I got. I felt the bashfulness creeping up my neck, and I suddenly wondered if this was actually a good idea.

I opened the glass door and timidly walked inside. It was pretty busy for a Thursday afternoon. I looked around the large room about as casually as one could without seeming weird. One of the ladies at the counter even asked me if I needed any help. I respectfully declined and told her I was just looking for someone.

This is a bad idea. This is a really bad idea.

I dismissed my negative thoughts when I finally found Mark sitting at small table towards the back, still looking at one of the little fold up, paper menus. I smiled and took a deep breath. I walked right up to the chair in front of him feeling stiff as a board.

He looked up at me, smiling at first but it was quickly replaced with a look of surprise, “(y/n)!”

“Hey, stranger.” I replied, gripping the chair as if it were my lifeline, “Mind if I sit here?”

“Yeah! Go for it!” He exclaimed, his voice laced with happiness. It’s almost as if nothing were out of the ordinary. Like he hadn’t just avoided me for two weeks.

“How’ve you been?” He asked, crossing his arms on the table and leaning in closer. I gave him a tight lined smile, “About the same as usual.” I replied. He sighed and seemed to drop the facade, “I’m really sorry, (y/n). I’m sorry for disappearing and being a total dick basically.”

I wanted to agree with him. I wanted to get angry and lash out at him, but I couldn’t. “I just want to know why it happened, Mark.” I sighed, “I thought we could talk about anything, and then we just... We stopped talking. Altogether. It really hurt, I mean...” I felt the tears welling up in my eyes, “You’re my best friend, and...”

I love you

“Hey, shh,” Mark took my hand from across the table, “It’s okay, everything’s okay." He cooed, “I really... It’s hard for me to talk about it, and I know that’s no excuse, but I was just scared, and-”

“Hey, Markie!”

The girl I recognized as one of the judges from my failed dance audition sat in the chair beside Mark and wrapped her arms around hi neck, “Who’s this?” She asked, looking at me.

I was taken aback as I suddenly pulled my hand back and tucked both of them into my lap. “I feel like I should recognize you from somewhere?” She said, seeming to study my face. I gave her a small smile before looking down at my lap, “I get that a lot.. I think I just have one of those faces.” I said awkwardly, looking back at Mark.

”(y/n)...”

“Anyway, I think I should go. I was just uh, I had to return Mark’s notes to him. I missed my class the other day, so...”

“You don’t have to! We were just on a small date, but you’re welcome to join us! I’m always happy to meet Mark’s friends!”

Date...

What a bitter word to hear when you were just about to tell him everything. “It’s okay, really! I have some other things I had to do today.” I responded, my voice sounding slightly venomous. “Enjoy your date!”

“(y/n)!”

I ignore Mark as I hurry out of the little restaurant, walking as fast as I can on the snowy sidewalks as I make my way back to campus.

A date, huh?

Is that why you’ve been avoiding me this whole time, Mark?

I can’t even cry about it. Mark is his own person, he’s allowed to date who he wants. Besides, how was he supposed to know that I’ve been harboring feelings for him?

The memory of Mark and I being stuck in that closet together crept back into my mind again like the little rat it is. The intimacy of the situation was enough to make me swoon. I was so close to Marks face, I should’ve just kissed him. God knows I wanted to.

And then Mark wouldn’t drop it when that guy said he thought I was in love with Mark, I was hoping he would’ve just caught on and maybe we could’ve started something.

Tears finally brim my eyes as I continue torturing myself with the thought of what could’ve been. I bury my face into my scarf and keep my head low as the tears go streaming down my cheeks.

Of all the people in the world, it had to be my best friend. It had to be!

I accidentally bump into someone as I near my dormitory. They reach out to steady me by my biceps. “Ah, I’m so sorry, I...”

He trails off as he studies my face. I look up at him, ready to apologize for bumping into him, but then I see who it is, and I nearly panic.

“Shownu..”

He smirks at me. “(y/n)! Wow it feels like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you!” He gushed. I smile back halfheartedly, “Hey, Shownu... How’s it going?” I asked, kinda dragging out his name.

Because he’s exactly who I wanted to speak to, I thought with a slight roll of my eyes.

“I’m fine, hey there’s something I wanted to ask you...” He says taking my hand in his gloved one. My eyes widen and my heart speeds up, mind racing as I try to think of any possible way to get out of this.

“Shownu, I-”

“(y/n) I’ve liked you for awhile now, and I wanted to know if you’d go out on a date with me.” He confesses, “I know I’m not Mark, but-”

“You’re right: You’re not me.” Mark chimes in as he slides in next to me, wrapping his arm around my waist. I look at him in pure shock, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He keeps his gaze focused on Shownu, wearing that same shit eating grin I’ve grown to love.

“Mark! I thought-”

“I know, but I thought we should spend the day together instead.” He said, kissing my cheek. I swallowed. I couldn’t help the heat that rose to my face no matter how much I may have wanted it to go away.

You’re giving me mixed signals, Mark.

“I'm sure you have a good reason for holding my girlfriend’s hand.” Mark said smugly to Shownu.

Girlfriend?!

Shownu’s once determined face twisted into one of anger and disappointment as he dropped my hand. He seemed to think his words over carefully before he replied to Mark. He looked like he wanted to fight him, but he’d decided against it.

“No, Mark. I didn’t have a good reason.” He replies through gritted teeth and a thin smile. He looks between the both of us for a second before letting out a sigh, “See you later, (y/n).” He says before walking off.

I almost feel bad for him as I give him a sad smile and wave goodbye. Once I know he’s out of ear shot, I shake off Mark’s hold on me and smack him repeatedly in the chest. “What the hell was that for?! How’d you even get here?! Did you follow me all the way back from the cafe?!” I demanded.

Mark giggled and grabbed hold of my wrists, “So what if I did?” He asks, bringing his face close enough that his nose touched mine. I swallowed thickly and pulled my face away from his as well as my arms. “Go back to your date, that’s so rude to just... Leave.” I sigh, turning away from him as I walk into my dormitory.

He followed me in.

“Shouldn’t you be taking your own advice then?” He asks as we both head towards the elevator. I roll my eyes and ignore him. “(y/n), I left because I needed to talk to you.” He told me. I swore I felt steam come out of my ears. My neck cracked as I looked over at him, my eyes full of anger. “You ignored Me, Mark. For two weeks you ignore me.” I reminded him.

We boarded the elevator, “We could’ve been talking these last two weeks, but you just disappeared. You wouldn’t text me, answer my calls - You missed class to avoid me!” I exclaim as we exit on my floor.

“I know, I owe you an apology and you deserve an explanation-”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

I get all the way to my door before he grabs me by the shoulder and quickly pins me against the wall. I suck in a sharp breath as his other hand blocks me in. I gaze up at him, and I immediately feel the tension melting away. His sad, puppy dog eyes gazing into mine. "I'm sorry, (y/n)." He said softly. His free hand came up to caress my cheek, wiping away a stray tear I didn't even know had fallen.

“I just want to know why.” I asked him. His eyes showed sorrow as he opened his mouth to reply, but I cut him off before he could answer me, “You know, I was perfectly fine before I met you! But then you just... Wiggled your way into my life like some sort of worm! You made an impact on me, became my best friend and all and then you just decide you’re gonna leave?!” I release all of my thoughts as I raise my hand to smack his chest again, but he captures it before I can make contact.

He closes his eyes as he entwines our fingers. “(Y/n) I...”

“You what, Mark?”

He takes a deep breath and peers down at me only for a second before he leans down and gently presses his lips against mine. My body tensed up as I pressed my arms against his chest, ready to push him away, but I couldn't. Everything that I'd felt before didn't seem to matter. All that matter's to me now is that I know how Mark feels. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me closer to him. The movements of his lips soft and slow as if urging me to fight him; urging me to be the one to take initiative. I cup his cheeks in my hands and deepen the kiss, pressing my body impossibly closer to his and he presses me into the wall. His lips feel so soft against mine and his kisses tastes like white chocolate mocha which I assume is what he was probably drinking earlier.

He parts his lips and drags the tip of his tongue across my bottom lip, prompting me to part my lips for him. My head feels so hazy and my faces feels so hot. I can’t tell if it’s from the kissing or from my feelings - Probably both. It didn’t help when I noticed that his hold on me got just a little more snug as he took my bottom lip between his teeth and nibbled it gently.

Our eyes met once again as my lip slipped from his teeth. His eyes were glossy and pupils large. I imagine my eyes looked similar.

“”I’ve liked you for awhile, (y/n). Jesus, I... I wanted to confess to you over the holidays, and I was so confident about it, but then...” He sighed, taking a deep breath again, “But then when all the stuff happened in the closet, I was worried you really didn't have feelings for me, and I-"

"Mark, I've liked you for the longest time, I... I love you." I confess somewhat shyly. I look away from him as I feel my face turning deep red, but his fingertips immediately guide me back to look at his smiling face again, "I love you too, (y/n)." He whispers, pressing his lips to mine again. "I'm so sorry I left you, I just needed time to think and I wanted to try to get over you," He mumbles in between kisses. His large hand gently caresses my hair, sliding down to cup my cheek, "but I promise I'll never do something so stupid again." He whispers, leaning his forehead against mine.

"I'm so in love with you."

"I'm in love with you too, Mark."

#Mark Tuan #Mark Tuan x reader #Mark x reader #got7 #imagine #college AU #because honestly what else do I write lmfao

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rqs902 · 4 years

Text

so i watched the two-part first ep of the coming one super band (gosh darn it was long...) and it made me realize it’s been a while since ive watched a non-idol show LOL. overall it was more interesting to watch than i expected. i didnt have high expectations going in bc its not my usual type of show, but i knew i wanted to at least give it a try bc of ljt. i heard about what happened to hjx prior to this, so that put a damper on my spirits, but i still wanted to see how ljt would do. i did not imagine him in a band before this, but now i kind of can.

i just cried a little inside when zhou zhennan asked liao juntao if zjy talks like mao buyi... oof

i find it amusing that they all call ljt liao laoshi and he has lots of fanboys hahah and zzn calls him taotao and seems really close to him still

aw the way zzn specifically asks ljt to sing “don’t talk to me”, a song he hasn’t released yet, means they must keep in close contact and ljt shares his music with him, and zzn takes his songs to heart and truly listens and likes them.

wow zzn really knows ljt’s guitar skills and rhythmic strengths and additional music styles could be demonstrated through this song and he wanted his friend to promote himself better by showing off a new song that may be more captivating to an audience in this type of setting. it really seemed like he was trying to protect and help ljt with genuine care. it’s been three years and the mrzz friendship still going strong warms my heart

OF COURSE THEY WOULD BRING UP “who” IT’S HIS CLAIM TO FAME SONG. and 3 years later, its still an amazing song. one of my favorites.

also ljt’s quirky personality was one of my favorite characteristics about him. his talent and music goes without saying, he’s one of my favorite (if not my actual favorite) music makers. but his personality also just seems so fun and slightly strange LOL but like the way he pats his chest after each performance like hes calming his nerves (but you cant tell at all while hes singing) is such a contrast.

UGH watching the montage from mrzz and then his story all the way through zzn’s crying literally brought me to tears.... lang lang saying how he could tell ljt has been through a lot... oh gosh and then those old clips of liao juntao with zhou zhennan, ma boqian, mao buyi, zhong yixuan UGH it just brought back so many memories and then the flashback to where ljt chose to battle meng zikun instead of wang jingli EVEN THOUGH HE KNEW HE WOULD LOSE AND HE HAD A BETTER CHANCE OF BEATING WJL......... aaaaaaahhhhhhhh because he wanted to protect his friends and let them go on to the next round. and never forget xue zhiqian’s heart-breaking “your choice may force you to struggle for another ten years” because he knew ljt was giving up such a rare opportunity. and mby just breaking down watching his friend commit career suicide basically ugh- that just- ughhh

and the fact that even as a judge now, zhou zhennan just couldnt stop himself from crying when ljt called him “bro”

can you imagine what it’s like to be so close to success and to live the next three years knowing you had just as much capability and possibility as freaking mao buyi and zhou zhennan but you were still left behind, by such a hugely immense degree. to have lost too early on, even though you definitely had the talent to have at least made it to the next round, but you care too much about your friends to force your way through.

ljt says he doesnt regret, and that is amazing to me. mao buyi and zhou zhennan are literally both judges on shows like this now. and hes still... a contestant.

lol wait i just had a thought, is ljt to super band what zzn was to produce camp? i really hope so. i feel like its inevitable tencent will favor him bc hes already signed to wjjw???? and hes probably the only one who has somewhat public recognition already? i really want ljt to debut as f-man... i cant imagine him on the sidelines. he deserves and needs to be the center of this eventual 5 person band. if wjjw messes him up again im literally going to question everything.

ive never gone into a show with such a strong bias and desire for that bias to be center -- ive never dared to ask for that -- but ill say it again, ljt NEEDS AND DESERVES it. i didnt realize i felt so strongly about him until now.

anyway, i can totally see how ljt and szb would get along, they both seem to have such sad stories (and ugh why is ljt so humble) but also how is tencent gonna deal with not having ljt as an f-man tho LOL

ouch watching the he junxiong part made my heart hurt... i heard about what happened, but watching it actually happen was still jarring. him not saying he wants his music to be commercialized, is that a reaction from what happened to “time of youth” ? It did feel like tencent stole that song from him and didnt credit him enough :\ so maybe he’d rather his music be remembered as in he wants to be remembered for his music? i do agree with zzn that hjx didnt sing the song as well as I expected him to this time though... my impression of he junxiong from produce camp was that he has a really nice voice and is really great at making music. but im surprised how much his attitude has changed. but i can understand it must be hard for him to see zzn sitting in front of him and not giving him his support. i guess from there in contrast, ljt’s humbleness is admirable. man, i wonder if/when we’ll see hjx again. tencent’s gonna hate him now lol.......

random but xu yang visually reminds me of yueyue and zhao ke visually reminds me of mu ziyang LOL also, i respect that hu yutong saw ryp was struggling with public speaking and let him go, but then went over to talk to him privately. he didnt want to make him uncomfortable and did his best to be gentle with his tone. but i agree it will be questionable for someone with such strong ideas like hyt to thrive in a group setting.

there are a couple of kids besides ljt who im interested in, enough that i think ill keep watching this show for now, but also not enough for me to not be miffed that there are SO MANY extra clips/ shows (YET AGAIN) and i just dont want to / dont have time to watch them all just to look for ljt..... and ljt is still the main reason why id watch, so im gonna have to figure out if theres a way for me to just watch the ljt clips lol..................

also side note, seeing them do physically strenuous activities like three legged racing in the previews gave me horror flashbacks to afo and im so scarred from that show that seeing stuff like that just makes me super scared thinking that someone is going to get hurt. ugh its just so unnecessary and such a bad idea. this was one of the worst parts about afo, the fact that the trainees kept getting injured doing dumb activities. why risk injury when your physical ability to do something as arbitrary as a three legged race should have no impact on your ability to succeed in a music competition???? it just seems so unnecessary and just there to add drama. sure it can build teamwork, but there are safer ways to build teamwork that may not lead to sprained ankles or scraped faces (UGH AFO)

but anyway, if anyone else is actually watching this show, let me know! I saw a few people on twitter, but i dont think its gaining as much traction as an idol show would, since its a band show.

#rants

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thelonelyrdr-blog · 7 years

Text

Thoughts on Tuesday Nights in 1980

As is the case for most readers, I assume, the cover of a book draws me in, but the cover copy decides whether or not I'll read the book. Thus, as soon as Tuesday Nights in 1980's cover copy compared it to Jennifer Egan’s A Visit from the Goon Squad, I inwardly groaned, and, had I not received my copy free through YPG's Little Big Mouth program, I would have put the book down right then. I can’t stand stories where the POV characters' narratives are removed from one another only to intersect due to the contrivances of "fate" (i.e. the author). Which is why, although I know that it's among many people's favorite Christmas movies, I really disliked Love Actually, even more so than A Visit from the Goon Squad. However, as previously mentioned (here and here), with free books, I'm not picky. So I dove in, and considering how much I ended up loving this book - it may be one of my favorites of the year, if not of all-time - I'm thinking that in the future I shouldn't judge a book by its cover or by its cover copy. (But then how will I choose which books to read, you ask? Solution: just read everything.) I can best convey the experience of reading this book as follows: Eyes: Glazing over every time this motif recurred. Tearing up when the characters were at their most desperate. Ears: Distantly aware of the praise that will undoubtedly be heaped upon this debut novel and its author for her experimental writing techniques. Mouth: Opening in awe of the author's talent at times and yawning at others. Silently screaming at Lucy, whom I found insufferable for all of the reasons that Engales ultimately did, even if it is believable for the youngest character to be naive and idealistic and dependent on others to define her: Face: Turning the pages frantically, sometimes prematurely, to find out what would happen next. Then, as I neared the end, turning pages more slowly to prolong reading the book. Heart: The same one beating in the chests of all of the POV characters. The same one bleeding onto the page through the author's pen. Kind of a cool method of reviewing a book, right? Now imagine that I used this technique three or four more times during this review. Would it still be cool? Then again, if Prentiss intended her writing itself to imitate art, then her repeated anatomical deconstruction of scenes is appropriate regardless of its subjective appeal: like art, these passages are, at their worst, obtuse and pretentious, but at their best, they're evocative and alive with meaning and sensation. Most of the time, I adored the writing in this book, pausing to savor lines and mark their pages for later reference. Other times, the writing struck me as tedious and trying too hard. But the former instances surpassed the latter in frequency, and even when Prentiss's writing frustrated me, I always, always admired the effort and artistic ingenuity it displayed. Aside from the writing, my favorite aspect of this story was its characters, as they read not so much as characters as they did people with lives and histories. The interview with Prentiss included in the back of the book revealed that it took her seven years to write Tuesday Nights in 1980, and that in that time, each character underwent several evolutions. I might've guessed the length of Prentiss's writing journey by how intimately she seems to know her characters. I might've guessed it by how well she portrays their sadness too. Authors - and lowly writers like me - like to joke about the cruelty we inflict on our characters, but often I come away from a book with a sense that its author has tortured the characters merely because tragedy is more realistic and yet more literary than happiness. Not Prentiss though: she breaks her characters to great effect. I reveled in their brokenness. Had she made less bleak narrative choices, the book would not have been as powerful. (What's with everyone in this book not feeling like eating when they're sad though? Could there not have been at least one character who gained rather than lost weight due to depression and loneliness? Or perhaps that's not how "beautiful" people grieve.) Of all of the characters, none is more miserable than the setting, which, yes, is itself a character. Through her sensuous, affecting descriptions of New York City, Prentiss captures everything I love and hate about the place. If sometimes these descriptions tire or overwhelm, then this mirrors the sensory overload characteristic of the city. The below line, in particular, resonates with my image of New York City: It was then, on his very first day, that he knew he had found his place in New York, a place for the deranged and wrecked and bold, a place where pity couldn't exist if it wanted to because there would have to be too much of it. That is exactly how I feel when, every morning as I'm trekking to work from Penn Station, I avert my eyes from the numerous homeless people lining the sidewalks. I wonder, then, if I'm the only one purposefully ignoring them (and my conscience), if my fellow pedestrians no longer notice them at all. Each time I swallow my pity, choke it down until it settles uncomfortably yet harmlessly in the pit of my stomach, I think, "I couldn't give change to all of them, even if I wanted to." The same is true of emotional currency: there is a limit to how much sadness, how much sympathy, a person can feel and still have it be useful to the people to whom it's extended. Don't misunderstand me: I'm not sharing this experience because I want anyone to feel sorry for me. I'm merely trying to illustrate, through this example, how profoundly I connected with Prentiss's portrayal of New York City and its inhabitants. Perhaps that's the root of why this novel was more enjoyable for me than the structurally similar A Visit from the Goon Squad: unlike the latter, Tuesday Nights in 1980 is about poor, hopeless people. My people. The people I am and am surrounded by every day. People who have earned their sadness and thus can wear it more credibly than Egan’s white middle- and upper-class characters . How much I liked it aside, this book has also helped me begin to overcome my writer's block. I probably sound like I'm full of crap, especially because I'm posting this review a week late, but hear me out. When, toward the end of the novel, James decides that it's worth writing merely because he can and Engales can no longer paint, I lingered on that sentiment for a long time. Strangely, I'd never thought of the act of creating from the perspective of someone who'd lost the ability to create. The tragedy of Engales's accident persuaded me like no other purely intellectual argument ever had that I should write as much as I can while I can, even if what I'm writing is complete and utter garbage, as I often deem it. Not only is there inherent value in the act of creating, but hey, I might be dead tomorrow! Barring my sudden and untimely death, I might grow old and get dementia; I might be young and get dementia. I might go blind, develop arthritis, lose a hand, and in any of these instances, how I wrote, if I still managed to write, would irrevocably change. Thus, I want to take full advantage of being able-minded and -bodied, because writing time is not infinite. (And to address the late blog post, despite what fiction would have us believe, revelations don't inspire immediate change: overcoming writer's block in order to write more consistently will be a slow process for me, for sure, but it's one that I'm committed to undergoing in a way that I wasn't before.) Reading time isn't infinite either, which is why I rarely reread books anymore, but Tuesday Nights in 1980 is one book that I strongly believe would improve upon rereading. I mentioned in a previous blog post that I dislike it when I can visualize an author's notes while reading, but Prentiss is such a master at concealing hers that I think it might be fun to go back and try to reconstruct them with the novel’s resolution in mind. Aspects of the plot are somewhat predictable, but they didn't feel predictable while I was reading, which is what matters. In conclusion, read this book, and, if you're both a reader and a writer like me, cry because you can never write anything as true or as beautiful as just one line from this novel. Then be like me and James and try anyway.

#tuesdaynightsin1980 #mollyprentiss #literaryfiction #books #bookreviews #reading #scoutpress #simonandschuster #ypg #littlebigmouth #publishing #avisitfromthegoonsquad #jenniferegan #loveactually

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susebron · 7 years

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ohhhh. maybe... i don't know... all the numbers. yes let's go with all 100 of them

i sincerely hate you and these took forever to answer so you better read ‘em all!!!!!!!! but also thx bc some of these were v nice and fun to answer

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk? more cereal than milk bc i came for the cereal, not the milk

2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day? if i’m in a good mood, yes. if i’m in a bad mood…. not at all

3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books? reciepts usually but i very much prefer actual bookmarks; specifically those with a magnet

4: how do you take your coffee/tea? with honey or sugar and lots of milk

5: are you self-conscious of your smile? i sincerely feel confused about how to smile properly??? so i guess a bit. like i can’t smile on order. i did as a kid but if i did it that way now, ppl would Wonder

6: do you keep plants? i had a cactus a while ago called robert plant but he died. my mum is currently keeping some plants in my room tho and i decorated one with some plastic dinosaurs but they are definitely not my responsiblity. i mean, robert plant died

7: do you name your plants? if you read the sixth answer, you would know that yes i do

8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings? writing i guess. idk it’s usually Metaphorically my feelings but i do make attempts to keep a diary sometimes. it doesn’t go well for long

9: do you like singing/humming to yourself? not really

10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach? i really really really like sleeping on my side. i’m currently forced to sleep on my back and i do not like it

11: what’s an inner joke you have with your friends? if one shouts sir yes sir then the other one has to shout I CAN’T HEAR YOU PUSSY #tbt @13000ants

12: what’s your favorite planet? tatooine which makes no sense

13: what’s something that made you smile today? leif gw persson was on tv

14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like? there would be books everywhere

15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is! neutron stars can spin at a rate of 600 rotations per second

16: what’s your favorite pasta dish? um. macaroni and cheese or pasta salad. NO WAIT milk-stewed macaroni

17: what color do you really want to dye your hair? tbh i’m content with my hair colour

18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up. that one time i thought sydney was in asia #tbt @weeplittlelannister

19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it? i do! idk i have one more diary-like, one with lists and drawings and shit… but also a calendar with is also somewhat a bullet journal

20: what’s your favorite eye color? what kind of q….. lmao oscar isaac’s

21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that’s been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces. my mum gave me aleather messenger box, like a post office bag or whatever and I Love It. it’s tbh never big enough to fit everything but it tries

22: are you a morning person? no

23: what’s your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations? read

24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets? i was gonna say my grandfather but then i realised there is no way he wwon’t end up telling my grandmother ausifsafa. idk. my stuffed elephant

25: what’s the weirdest place you’ve ever broken into? me and william once broke into this storage room where we live. he stole one of those long light bulbs and hit me in the head with it. it hurt

26: what are the shoes you’ve had for forever and wear with every single outfit? just normal chuck taylors. off-brand tho of course lmao

27: what’s your favorite bubblegum flavor? mint or y’know…. bubblegum

28: sunrise or sunset? both

29: what’s something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing? i know this says friends but listen. when @sneutrinos talks about physics or physicists he admires… his eyes are like Glittering and it’s endearing as fuck. makes me want to listen (or watch lmao) him talk about it for hours

30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared? yes

31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks. the best way to describe my socks and usage of them is that my nurse the other week when i was getting dressed to go home was like “oh! you’re wearing mismatched for rock the socks day (a day to uplift/celebrate down’s syndrome) and i was like “i guess….. but this is also just how i wear my socks” i very rarely end up having matching socks?? it just??? never happens even if i try

32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends. lmao idk if this was after 3am but i remember that one time me and @kkruel were ranting about his dorm neighbour showering at like midnight but literally just shrugged it off when the ceiling caved in saihfoasp

33: what’s your fave pastry? pastry is such a loose term though??? there is so much to choose from??? but i’m like really feeling muffins lately

34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it? i had a bunch but let’s talk about the one stuffed dog i got when i was like six and is still like brand-new because i was terrified of ruining it so i just…. occasionally gave it a pet. nothing more

35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often? i do, i do. i prefer certain pens, even if the ink’s only black, and i tend to use them more than pencils.

36: which band’s sound would fit your mood right now? nirvana unplugged would fit so much i had to go listen to it

37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean? i mean i like when it’s clean but i don’t mind if it’s messy… as long as it isn’t Messy

38: tell us about your pet peeves! flour

39: what color do you wear the most? um probably blue or black

40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what’s it’s story? does it have any meaning to you? i honestly don’t really own any jewelry. i do have a watch that i use sometimes but it doesn’t really have a meaning other than that my mum bought it for me during one of our trips to uppsala. so i guess it does mean something after all lmao

41: what’s the last book you remember really, really loving? i really loved nimona. it was hilarious and amazing

42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it! idk i really like espresso house because they have really good chocolate muffins but it’s always crowded and overpriced. wayne’s also has good muffins and are usually a bit cheaper, a bit less crowded

43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with? i guess micah and his dad lmao

44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything? um probably last tuesday

45: do you trust your instincts a lot? i mean i guess?

46: tell us the worst pun you can think of. my mind is BLANK

47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe? ticks. oh this said FOOD. um. mustard

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today? i can only think of my trauma-based fears and they were usually about water and losing my parents??? i’m not sure i’d say either is the biggest fear now, but i still feel really uncomfortable in muddy water

49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought? p sure the last i bought was highlights from the original french production of les misérables

50: what’s an odd thing you collect? as a kid i used to collect popcorn boxes from the movies? i think i only have lotr ones left

51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them? i associate @conradsricamora with conrad’s cover of ain’t no sunshine

52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far? i like the meme about ted cruz as the zodiac killer but it’s not from this year. uh. i can’t think of a 2017 meme

53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them? i’ve seen beetlejuice and pulp fiction and i love them both. one’s the perfect funny rainy october night movie and the other’s just… wow

54: who’s the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face? idk someone on grey’s anatomy. mum’s been watching it a lot lately

55: what’s the most dramatic thing you’ve ever done to prove a point? gosh idk. i hope nothing too Dramatic

56: what are some things you find endearing in people? their love for their hobbies. like when someone is really intensively into something and it’s so Obvious. i love that

57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics? it always makes me feel so good. and i mean… yeah…. who doesn’t…

58: who’s the wine mom and who’s the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why? um @itsjustaheartache is the wine mum and @caesarsbuddy is the vodka aunt because…. they just are

59: what’s your favorite myth? um anything to do with swedish trolls tbh

60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves? tbh i love poetry but i’m a bit picky with it. but i’ll read anything by richard siken

61: what’s the stupidest gift you’ve ever given? the stupidest one you’ve ever received? um my aunt once gave me a cp3o pen for christmas. like that was it. i think it was in the 1 dollar bin

62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind? no i don’t but if i have to, i prefer orange juice

63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be? i really like them organized but i have so many books that i just.. give up a lot

64: what color is the sky where you are right now? it’s late so probably dark, dark blue. perhaps even black

65: is there anyone you haven’t seen in a long time who you’d love to hang out with? all my friends at this point lmao

66: what would your ideal flower crown look like? idk… flowery

67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel? like it’s time to travel to middle earth

68: what’s winter like where you live? it’s either really cold and snowy or no snow and probably really rainy

69: what are your favorite board games? dnd or monopoly

70: have you ever used a ouija board? no and i fucking never will

71: what’s your favorite kind of tea? rn it’s my pokémon tea that my dad’s gf got me

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you’ll forget it? lmao i definitely need to write everything down which i’ve failed to do lately and i hate it

73: what are some of your worst habits? procrastination

74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns. gay

75: tell us about your pets! one is satan but also the sweetest??? v interesting mix. she is honestly so good. and the other one is chunk in cat form. also p good

76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren’t? i’m trying to finish my assigned math tasks for today but ashfpsao god damn ebba made me answer all these 100 q’s

77: pink or yellow lemonade? neither? i’m not a big fan of lemonade

78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub? i haven’t seen the movies so i was neutral… and at this point i’m neutral evil about it. stop it

79: what’s one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you? john boyega exists so that was a cute thing of his parents to do

80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why? blue at dad’s and like white/cream-ish at mum’s…. bc blue felt most neutral and the other one was already there, so

81: describe one of your friend’s eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of. sea with a touch of caramel

82: are/were you good in school? lmao

83: what’s some of your favorite album art? um. tbh anything by led zeppelin

84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones? i’d want some, sure, but i’m uncertain of what. probably something relating to ryan dunn at least

85: do you read comics? what are your faves? it’s been a while since i had time to but i really love captain america, sweet tooth and…. tbh i’m not picky???

86: do you like concept albums? which ones? i love them. esp if it’s by king diamond. if i have to choose one of his, it’s got to be them or abigail tbh

87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives? the lord of the rings trilogy and the star wars original trilogy. also artifical intelligence

88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy? resistance

89: are you close to your parents? i mean yeah? in different ways but i’m close to both of them which is v nice

90: talk about your one of you favorite cities. it is really neat with beautiful old buildings and lots of book shops. or at least a bunch of good book shops. also actual shops dedicated to comics or gaming. also a v nice tea shop

91: where do you plan on traveling this year? i’m hoping to move to a new city this autumn, so there’s that

92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch? i don’t get cheese on pasta unless it’s mac and cheese

93: what’s the hairstyle you wear the most? a luke skywalker inspired ‘do

94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday? um some family friend on facebook

95: what are your plans for this weekend? um. study, probably

96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot? i procrastinate. def

97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house? infp, leo, hufflepuff

98: when’s the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it? i don’t remember when it was but i know that i did not enjoy it

99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them. anything by led zeppelin or stromae. a specific song though is the freshman by the verve pipe

100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why? no. no. you do not mess with time ok

#philipsunshea #tag: asks

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guil-t-pleasurez · 7 years

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Three Little Words

*request by MorikoDrakas

*inspired by the characters of her side-blog, TheUnversedTwins

*Happy Valentine’s Day! ^w^

All it took were those three little words, carelessly tossed into the air without a passing thought. Just that one simple phrase, and it left them reeling. They broke down like a goddamn schoolgirl, crumbling into silence and curling in on themselves. (Well, a schoolgirl that would bite your fucking ear off and then spit it in your face just to taunt you, that is.) It was ridiculous how much strength those words gave him over the usually so confident and suave singer, able to push him to such an extreme without even trying. He practically held their life in his hand.

He hated that.

Roku broke a few speeding laws on his way to the gallery, barely daring to glance down at the clock on his dashboard. He already knew how late he was running – Fucking stupid bastard, causing trouble for no reason! When he finally pulled sharply into the empty spot next to a dark motorcycle, Roku found his heart in his throat. The world whirled by as he leapt out and kicked the door shut behind him. He didn’t even bother to lock it – what kind of fucking idiot would risk stealing the car next to their bike?

He threw open the door to the gallery, panting as he stumbled inside.

The gallery was fairly crowded even at this time of the day, especially considering the holiday. Maybe it was common for art students to flock together – having always been the self-dependent type and not really the most social, Roku wouldn’t know. But it was easy enough to spot the couples from the singles; he pushed his way through, searching frantically. As he wandered around, Roku couldn’t help but notice the vibrant ink decorating most of the patron’s arms. It cheered him up a little to know that he blended in so easily. And who knows, maybe he could even get a few jobs in. Lord knows he needed them.

At last her finally caught a hint of black and gold among the bustle of noise and clashing colors. Breathing a sigh of relief, Roku shoved his way through the crowd and attempted to casually saunter over to the duo. “… Yo. Were you waiting long?”

Naminé spun quickly, her golden locks seeming to spiral out for a moment before drifting down again. Her smile lit up her brilliant blue eyes; it made his heart flutter slightly, and he couldn’t help but return it. “Roku!” she exclaimed, reaching out and grasping his hands. She held them close to her heart, practically glowing. “You really came! I was starting to think you might… I-I mean… it’s not like I doubted you or anything… I just-”

“I had a late customer,” Roku cut her off, quick to reassure the nervous girl. “We had very different ideas of what ‘oh anything’s fine’ meant, that’s all. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

The raven-haired boy lounging next to one of the paintings snorted slightly at that. Roku glanced at him, easily holding his gaze. “Vanitas,” he nodded.

“Babe.” They nodded back, then grinned. “Come on, you must’ve known Nami was gonna get all worried and shit! You should’ve just turned him away.” Their grin widened. “Either that or purposely fuck it up and throw their money back at ‘em for being such a dick.”

Roku rolled his eyes, jamming his hands into his jean pockets. “Yeah, right. And what would you have done if I’d tried to pull something like that with yours?”

Vanitas’ hand lingered by their belt, though their smile barely wavered. “Oh I’d have fucking gutted you,” he said simply, as though it were obvious. But that’s not the point.”

“How is that not the point?!”

Naminé made a face at the two of them, before something seemed to catch her interest. She darted back into the crowd of people and was gone before either of them could even blink. Vanitas and Roku exchanged a troubled look, before forgetting all about their argument and trying to catch up with their companion.

Roku was the first to try and change the subject. “So, uh…” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “You had a show last week, didn’t you? Sorry I couldn’t make it – work came up. Your brother give you a hard time or anything?”

“Nah, Vennie’s always like that. Don’t worry about it.” Vanitas seemed distracted, sweeping their gaze across the hall. They made their way easily through the throngs of people, not much different from a shark gliding through murky waters. Roku had a much harder time keeping up, stumbling as he bumped into one person after another.

“…You should’ve dropped by though,” Vanitas finally added, glancing back at him. “They’d have let you in. No charge for cuties like you.”

His ears reddened. “I told you not to call me that!”

“I’m serious! We should plan ahead next time, maybe this weekend if you’re available. I’ll get you a backstage pass, and like… a signature or whatever. S’no big deal. People won’t even notice. It’d just be kinda nice to actually be able to see-”

They broke off suddenly, expression twisting. “… Oh fuck me!”

Was it his brother? Roku feared the worst as he followed his gaze. As soon as he saw the tall man lounging by a very nervous Naminé though, his eyes narrowed. Even from this far away he could still easily identify the smug look of a snob, someone who thought they knew everything about art. Someone who thought a small girl like Naminé wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between a Picasso and a Dali. He’d grind her down and make her feel like nothing. Son of a bitch! He’d kill him for that.

Roku ground his teeth, hands tightening to fists as he started forward. But Vanitas thrust out a sudden hand to stop him right in his tracks. “What the fuck!” Roku glared, shoving their arm away. “We can’t just stand here and do nothing! You seeing that shit? That bastard’s gonna make her fucking cry!”

“I know.” Vanitas’ lips curled up into a faint smirk, even as his eyes burned. “I just wanted to check first – you want the legs, or his fucking head?”

Roku blinked, a little taken aback by that. Though he really shouldn’t have been so surprised, knowing Vanitas as well as he did. Slowly, he grinned.

* * *

“You really didn’t have to do all that,” Naminé scolded, though the faint rosy hue to her cheeks told them otherwise. “That poor man might never walk again!”

“Well he shouldn’t have messed with our Nami,” Vanitas shot back, taking a seat on one side of the booth. Roku nodding in vigorous agreement, quickly sliding in next to them so that Naminé wouldn’t have to sit next to the obnoxious singer. Vanitas countered by resting a hand on his inner thigh, smirking slightly. “He should’ve known better, the dumb fuck.”

“But you could’ve gotten in trouble! It wasn’t necessary.”

Vanitas just shrugged. “S’not like I haven’t spent a few nights in the jammer.” She started to protest further, but they cut her off easily. “Nami, relax. I already got everyone off our tail ages ago, nobody’s gonna randomly show off and try hauling us off to jail. We’re safe here.”

Naminé still didn’t look entirely convinced, although she eventually lowered her gaze to the menu. Roku didn’t bother looking for his own meal, too focused on trying to figure out what Naminé would get. He’d probably just get the same thing anyways.

After what seemed to be an eternity dragged by, a somewhat disgruntled waitress finally reached their table. She forced a smile, something Roku couldn’t help but admire considered the chaotic restraint around them. “Hiya folks. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

“Just water,” Naminé nervously pipped up. Vanitas reached under the table to caress her hand, while Roku nodded approvingly.

The waitress seemed to pick up on this, lingering a bit longer than she needed to. “Out on a date with your boyfriend?” she teased, clearly trying to make some desperate attempt at small talk to avoid moving on to her next table. The word seemed to hang overhead. She failed to notice the shock settling over the trio, and continued just as cheerfully. “You’re quite the lucky girl, he’s a real looker!”

Vanitas sprang up from their seat, hand already at their pocket. “Excuse me?” they seethed, causing her to flinch. “The fuck did you just say?!”

Naminé squeaked and ducked her head to stare uncomfortably down at her menu again. Roku grimaced, realizing that he’d have to be the one to fix things. He swallowed back his pride, sitting a little straighter in the booth. “Actually,” he kept his voice level and did his best to smile like his brother might, “Naminé is my girlfriend. And Vanitas is our partner. We’re all together.”

The waitress immediately stammered her apologizes, blushing a deep crimson as she rushed away from the table. Roku knew she wouldn’t be back.

You’d think he’d have gotten used to this by now, but somehow it never got any easier. Not with Naminé always shutting down like that, and Vanitas ready to tear somebody’s fucking throat out at a moment’s notice. He could appreciate such aggression, always being up in arms himself. But it still made it so that things always fell to him when things went to shit. Roku, the one who hated socializing and people to begin with, always had to deal with the dipshits jumping to conclusions. Ugh.

He sighed, leaning back in his seat again and slumping down slightly. “The things I do for you two,” he grumbled. After a moment, he reluctantly reached across the table and fumbled for Naminé’s hand, then reached sideways to firmly grasped Vanitas’. The other two exchanged a look, the latter arching one pierced eyebrow.

Roku stared unwaveringly at the two of them. “You’re just lucky I love you so much.”

Those three damn words. Naminé blushed happily, giving his hand a small squeeze. But Vanitas immediately pulled back, his expression twisted. Roku knew he would, and he couldn’t quite mask the smirk hinting at the corner of his lips. Vanitas glared at him, then turned away as though to sulk. Roku just chuckled, before lowering his head to stare at the menu once more.

* * *

The rest of their day out was fairly uneventful, except for maybe that drunk pervert that decided Naminé looked like quite the treat. Roku had slammed him to the ground while Vanitas carved his fucking eyes out; but it wasn’t like that was anything new for the trio. By now Naminé didn’t even bother to flinch.

Roku was the one to take them all home, loading Vanitas’ motorcycle into the back of his BMW before helping Naminé up. He didn’t say anything about the way the two of them slid into the backseat together, or the way they giggled back and forth almost the whole ride back. He knew they were looking through Naminé’s notebook again, and he grimaced to think of what new compromising positions she could have possibly put them in.

At last they reached Naminé’s house and dropped her off. Roku watched intently until she got to the front step, his heart fluttering again when she smiled in that innocently charming way of hers and waved. He smiled and waved back, before turning to Vanitas. “You can move up if you wan-” he started. But before he had a chance to finish that thought, Roku suddenly felt himself yanked forcibly forward by the fingers knotted in his hair.

It wasn’t romantic in the slightest, Vanitas mashing their mouth against his and cramming their tongue down his throat. It was barely even a kiss, just pure aggression, a fight for dominance. But it wasn’t supposed to be. Vanitas was trying to make a point, trying to prove something. Roku knew that better than anyone.

He refused to rise to the bait, resting a hand against the side of Vanitas’ face in an almost caressing gesture. Roku did his best to keep his touch light, his kiss even gentler.

It didn’t take long for Vanitas to pull away again, ripping their fingers out from Roku’s hair and taking a few tuffs of silver with them. Roku winced. Vanitas didn’t seem to care, glaring again. “You son of a bitch,” they spat.

Roku just smirked back at them. “I love you too.”

Vanitas snarled something about just walking home you bastard, kicking the car door open and leaving their beloved bike behind. Roku just watched them go, until he was sure they really weren’t coming back for it. At last he sighed, tugging the door closed and starting up the car. He’d drop it off next weekend, after they’d had some time to cool off. That’s how these things always went.

Those three simple words could bring everything crashing down. It brought out the worst in them, put everything on the line. But that was exactly why he always used them. Nothing else could get such a response, could make Vanitas feel so much. That’s why Roku loved to do it.

Shaking his head and smiling, he drove off.

#art request #writing request #morikodrakas #theunversedtwins #namine #vanitas #repliku #riku replica #roku #lost trio #replivan #namivan #replinami

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eificopper · 7 years

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Autotag #10 – Twinkle Headcanon meme

☾ : Sleep headcanon -Shira really doesn’t like sleeping with other people, she needs space and it can be uncomfortable but most importantly even when asleep her horns can channel other’s people’s feelings and even affect her dreams. -On the other side of the spectrum Eifi very much enjoys sleeping with company, as it makes her feel more secure and loved somehow, she’s also fond of sleeping in her pokémon form all curled up. -Kuro sleeps a lot in intervals during the day but it’s also a light sleeper so his rest is often easily interrupted. He’s somewhat nocturnal so he prefers to sleep during the mornings and though it’s rare he can sometimes snore, Eifi is not really bothered by it (in fact she thinks this is a clear sign he’s sleeping well and therefore it’s good)

☠ : Drinking/drunk headcanon -For whatever reason Shira always ends up crying when drunk. Don’t ask, she doesn’t know either, it just happens. La que no se mide y se manda peas lloronas -Very surprisingly, Eifi seems to never get headaches or hangovers from drinking, she can get really… uhh…horny though, and won’t always remember everything…;; -Kuro hates drinking alone, seriously, he’ll only do it if others (which I guess means Eifi) do too (he also kinda hates smoking alone but what can you do?) he’s never gotten drunk since he doesn’t drink that much actually.

☼ : Childhood headcanon -One of Shira’s favorite pastimes as a kid was climbing trees and cliffs, she never fell and once even beat a grown adult at climbing much to the amazement of other kids (yes, she’s still proud about that, and will gladly tell you the story in full detail) -There is no denying Eifi has always been an indoors espeon but there’s nothing she loved more than to visit the Minamo ports, markets and the beach -Kuro vaguely remembers life with other kids at the Safari zone but more pleasant memories come in the form of sleeping under the warm sun or exploring the wide forest with Soren.

☯ : Genderbent headcanon -Arudo Hanaki is more self-conscious and not as proud of his body as his female counterpart and likes to dress more “formal” and of course more covered than Shira so he was a little more careless about his self-harming. ALSO Shira is a closet pervert but this guy is such an open pervert my god -Elias Akihara absolutely loves Tae-kwon-do, he practices it since he was like 9 and his dream is to represent Hoenn in an international competition and/or start his own school when older. He really admires his sempai Emily. -Kuroko Tensho has a slight kleptomania problem that made up for a rough start between her and Elias when they first met. She’s always hated it because of the anxiety it caused and the troubles it got her in and started taking treatment later in life.

⋆ : Sex headcanon -Shira likes to bite and scratch her partner during sex way more than a skiddo probably should, and certainly won’t complain about being “marked” either. The one time she doesn’t care about keeping a perfect physical appearance. -Eifi is mostly an auditory person and so she’s VERY turned on by sounds because of this, some growling, moaning, panting and dirty talk is sure to get her hot and bothered. Which Kuro learns to exploit eventually. - On top of being demisexual Kuro is very reserved and even easily embarrassed when it comes to this topic. However, a surprisingly more dominant and wild side of him shows during sex (or like when Eifi turns him on which she loves to do//hit) Cuando le da, le da heavy

☮ : Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon -There are so many notebooks in Shira’s room, so many. The majority of them aren’t even halfway filled, she has a really hard time tossing those kind of things out though. -Eifi likes to make “nests” with the bed’s covers and pillows and just curl there. If you mess it up (how can you mess up a mess of blankets? You can) she’ll get very upset. -Kuro loves big windows and open spaces such as a terrace or back/front yards. He’s very picky about his living space in the sense that he doesn’t like densely populated or building packed areas

☄ : Any AU headcanon -Eneco!Shira is somehow more extroverted and notably more affectionate and touchy-feely, she enjoys bothering people by sleeping or sitting to purr on their lap/chest. - There’s an AU where Eifi and Shira did not get along at all for reaons involving lives past and they end up getting in a fight where Shira either kills or nearly kills Eifi. Nada más alejado de la realidad -There’s a certain AU where things between Kuro and Eifi did not quite work out and they remained good friends. He ends up marrying Shira instead; they live happily in Renri and have no kids.

♤ : Cooking headcanon -Shira secretly likes to cook and can sometimes even come up with interesting new recipes (some of which were born during her time at the academia or SO) -Eifi has the habit of sometimes eating stuff raw, including but not limited to: dough, meat, fish, pasta and vegetables, ironically the one thing she refuses to eat uncooked are eggs. -Kuro is the type of person that doesn’t really know how to cook but he follows the recipe and it just… comes out great?? how?

⊕ : Talents/hobbies headcanon -Shira absolutely loves to sing, and she’s loud and shameless about it... -Eifi is amazingly flexible like no you don’t understand her back arches in a way that can and probably will scare others. -Not only does Kuro know how to dance (thank Eifi and later Shira too) but he really really enjoys to do so, it’s just that most people don’t know it since he simply doesn’t mention it.

☻ : Mood headcanon -During elementary Shira had a hard time expressing herself and keeping her current mood stable, as spending even a short amount of time with others in the same room could lead her to channel and mimic the other person’s mood without her even knowing. That said she still somewhat “adapts” to her surroundings when accompanied, but has gotten more emotional independence and stability as she grows. -Even though Eifi’s mood is more or less volatile it can somehow fit surprisingly well with her natural surroundings, that is to say the weather and even beings in the proximity. Even she finds it weird, considering her detectors don’t really work… -An infallible and easy way to tell Kuro’s mood is by paying attention to his tail: if he’s calm or even bored it sways slowly, if he’s happy or pleased it twitches every few seconds, if he’s nervous or otherwise shocked/scared it’ll tense and become stiff, while anger makes him lash it around like a whip.

✚ : health headcanon -Shira very rarely gets sick to be honest, she has high defenses, but when she does oh boy. Bedridden, no joke. Lasting high fevers, lots of vomiting, some passing out… and then feeling bad for making others worry/take care of her. -Eifi regularly takes pills for headaches, muscle pains, vitamins and birth control. At worst, she jokes she’s “constantly on meds” -Kuro immune system is pretty strong, he even got the right genes for it and wildlife just enhanced it all. His wonds can scar easily though.

✿ : happiness headcanon -It’s fairly easy to know when Shira is happy: she’ll be more open, talkative and physical, moving a lot (specially her hands and hooves) and her voice will slightly increase in pitch. -Eifi will get all excited and bubbly, well, more than usual! Her hands will get restless and she’ll laugh more and be all blushy blushy. -Kuro's happiness is practically tied up to his sense of peacefulness and security, if he feels comfortable and safe he’s happy, even if it doesn’t seem like it due to his neutral attitude. His smile is the cutest thing though!

✖ : anger headcanon -When Shira gets pissed it’s common for her to start cursing in kalosian and then she just switches over absolutely oblivious to the fact that the other person (most likely) can’t understand her. There’s also her silent fuming though, where she’ll get snarky and her talking would be cut short and sharp. -Eifi is surprisingly prone to violent tendencies when angry (Though she’d have to seriously be pissed/stressed) these often come out as rabid-like gestures such as hissing, growling and scratching… even in sapimon form. -Kuro’s anger shows off in huffs and growls, he’s hard to annoy and even then it won’t be much: a rolling of eyes, a hiss, and after clearing his mind he’ll be back to business. Watch out though, he’s the protective-rage type so yeap.

♆ : body headcanon -Shira’s tail (like those of all skiddo) is semi-connected to her spine, technically branching off as a steam like her neck leaves, though much sturdier. In general is like a thin branch that CAN break off but if it were to happen it would hurt like hell and not grow back… Also her nails are pretty strong and have a natural orange hue, y’now, keratin like her hooves. -Her feet are a mess and she often tends to them with creams and covers them with bandages and the like so it’s normal to see Eifi walking around home with them. -Part of Kuro’s “hair” is actually his mane, true it’s still hair but it’s thicker and coarser to the touch, pretty difficult to brush or tame (and Eifi has tried…) his actual hair is surprisingly silkier and so damn straight. Has some old scars here and there and (fun fact) one of them was even made by Shira woops.

ϡ : mental state headcanon -Shira’s rivalry ability is surprisingly not unpleasant but rather feels similar to adrenaline with a strong impulse to overcome the specific trigger (fight rather than flight). However it can cause unstable levels of anxiety, depression and aggression if activated too often or for long periods of time, which is exactly why Shira eventually got prescribed suppressants. -After the events in Enju city Eifi's mental state quickly deteriorated and she accidentally started developing and behaving with a sort of dual personality thanks to her Dreamweaving, it got really bad for a little over a year, until her depression mellowed down. That said she still has episodes from time to time but has to learn to cope with it. -Kuro has mild insomnia, which frustrates him a lot since it totally messes up his sleeping schedule and more often than not he can’t really rest well, along with a bunch other factors and consequences. He uses medicinal sleep powder for it sometimes.

ღ : love or sexuality headcanon -Shira is deathly afraid of divorce (this is why she has troubles with relationship commitment) be it for her parent’s almost one, her family and friend’s complains and overall negativity surrounding it, or because she had to “agree” with her partner it was better to go separate ways despite still liking them twice. It’s rooted deep down on her fear of being alone. -Eifi is in general a very touchy and cuddly person who craves some company and affection, and her love lies just as much in soft touches, tight hugs and kind words as in sex and make out-sessions themselves. -Kuro’s not very big on direct lip kisses, he really likes forehead and cheek kisses and thinks they resonate a deeper, more intimate connection. He’d often kiss Eifi on the hand or fingers and Shira on her neck and shoulders.

† : religion headcanon -Shira is really big on celebrating Winter-wrap up and épanouissement, has always felt somewhat connected to her patron Xerneas and thus prays and swears on his name. That’s not to say she doesn’t hold some high respect for Yveltal and Zygarde too though. -Since she was little Eifi has always followed the ritual of giving offerings to Kyogre in special dates, she considers it a great honor and giving her kindness and thanks to her patron deity. -Kuro never adopts a certain religion strictly speaking, but (as the majority of things in his life) he ends warming up to a mix of Kalos and Hoenn beliefs.

✄ : nervous habits headcanon -Quite obvious but Shira shuffles A LOT on her hooves when nervous or anxious, she also does this gesture where she shakes her hands but that’s when she’s trying to avoid her hemophobia acting up. -Sometimes when really upset Eifi drags her nails against her own skin (thighs/shoulders) just to leave the red marks and feel the sting, as strange as it sounds she just likes it and uses it to “let out some steam” -Funnily enough Kuro tends to actually talk more when anxious but will get restless and spend mad amounts of time climbing places and honing his claws.

#autotag #aaaaaaaa I loved this one so muuuch #bless #got to hint at and explain things here and there #and tried to put in words some other things (such as shira's tail and eifi's dreamweaving)#some of these are so real and important and I love them #twinkle

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