#and it's very strange and sometimes bittersweet and sometimes it's really tough and hard | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

setsugekka · 1 year

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『paradise lost』 ; 09

❝ misplaced bitterness ❞

↳ through the months of hongjoong’s absence and san’s presence, the parts of you that have become something of a mainstay make themselves known all over again; the desire to be held, to be wanted, to be desired.

old habits die hard, but you have a friend who is going to help you through it.

⎯ ୨previous୧ ⎯ ○ ⎯ ୨series mlist୧ ⎯ ○ ⎯ ୨next୧ ⎯

『 pairing 』 : choi san x fem!reader

『 genre 』 : romance, angst, budding friendships.

『 rating 』 : mature

『 word count 』 : 5.8k

『 warnings 』 : angst, self-reflection, working through feelings and tough conversations that allow for that, rejections, hard to swallow truths. no smut :)

The first month is easier than anticipated. That's what you occasionally think to yourself, at least.

Through what feels like endless nights of tears — alone and in your own apartment for the first time really in months, you figure that it's the slight feeling of having deserved this that brings to some bizarre sense of calm about the whole thing.

You earned this, and maybe part of you had made some sort of peace with it all of the way back on Seonghwa's couch.

Driven home even more on Hongjoong's.

The one thing that helps take the edge off at least — through the tears and sleepless nights and still finding so many of your belongings that bring back acute memories and feelings of what it was like being with Hongjoong, having Hongjoong — was San.

But things with San weren't something, not really. And sure, you had spent some time thinking it over; mind wandering while at home and on your couch watching a movie, what it might be like to feel San's fingers wrapped in your own, his body pressed against yours in some way or another — but you know that it's a form of longing, of missing that presents these thoughts in your mind.

You barely know this man, and of course you're not waiting for Hongjoong, but you know well enough that you're not ready to step outside of your mourning and make an attempt for something more.

A pain still all encompassing and deeply strangling within your chest every time you think about your old friend — your new one is not the fix, that much you do know.

But still, having him there certainly helps.

It's nice that Choi San is a big texter — messaging you numerous times throughout the day about seemingly anything that it is that comes to mind. Sometimes it's the bread, sometimes it's a customer, sometimes it's any other random thought that appears to tumble out of him without much of a second thought about it. Any and everything — a charm of his, the way his mind seemingly works in split second moments.

Here one, and another the next — the way that San seemingly goes through life. In a way, you suppose you can sort of relate.

It's bittersweet, getting used to a life without Hongjoong, but with San in it. Part of you wishes you could simply have both.

Selfish as always.

And even now, as you sit down and make yourself comfortable at the back corner of Mountain Breeze — a spot that you have now unceremoniously claimed as your own (so long as no other customers happen to be seated there) — watching the man with the long, fluffy black hair as he works with the cashier to get a few coffee orders out quicker than she normally would be able to herself, you can't help but find him charming in a way that's familiar but strange all at the same time.

He's a kind soul, you're not sure if he's ever found it in himself to be anything but.

You feel sort of guilty about the fact that he knows next to nothing about you, despite it.

“Hey, sorry, got a little slammed there for a bit,” San huffs as he slings himself into the plush, brown leathery booth next to you. Slightly out of breath and exasperated, he sets down two mugs onto the table in front of the both of you. “Didn't forget, though!”

“I never would have expected you to, you're very on top of things despite coming off rather scatterbrained.”

“Scatterbrained? I come off as scatterbrained?”

Eyes widening, you can tell that he's never heard this before, or anything of the sort, even — somehow, this is even more charming to you, and only drives home the point more in some way.

Taking a sip from the cup, you set it back down before turning and gently looking at him as he continues to think through the comment. “Don't worry, I think it's cute.”

“Scatterbrained and cute,” he starts, lips curling slightly as he brings his own mug up to them. “I guess that's not so bad, then.”

“It's not, there's certainly worse things to be.”

It's not that you intend to flirt with San, but rather it's a sort of natural progression of conversing with him, in a way. A man that so effortlessly exudes comfort and love — it's easy to feel held by him, simply in presence.

A man that only says kind things, you find it easy to return them.

The second month offers more challenges than anticipated.

The first month is supposed to be hard, that much you know. It's not your first break up, nor will it be your last is any guess, but coming straight off of it, that's when the wound is at its most raw, and you at your most vulnerable.

And perhaps it's the subsiding of that to a minute degree that allows for the slipping in of other such thoughts and feelings: like Choi San.

When you find time with the man leaking outside of the cafe and more and more into normal, everyday life, you know that the possibility of something, anything, isn't able to be ignored as much anymore. And of course, people can just be friends — men and women can just be friends, but it's that concept precisely that you now find yourself faced with.

They can, but can you, with him.

Closing the shop with San turns into late night dinners out with the man. Not much drinking and nothing too fancy but with him always picking up the check even to your suggestion that he not, it puts the thought into the back of your mind even more.

What is this? What are we? What are we doing here?

And eventually when the dinners out turn into dinners in and a movie on the couch, it's impossible to not lay merit to the thoughts that result in it — to so many, an objectively romantic undertone to such things.

But never a move made one way or another, and perhaps for the best, you think.

It's only been two months, after all.

The idea of having feelings for someone — of being in love, always sounds delightful. The honeymoon period, the feeling of being completely and irrevocably entranced by everything about someone, intoxicating and difficult to ignore.

And realistically, San is everything you would want a partner to be.

Gentle, caring, responsible. A man that makes more than an effort to keep in touch, keep up with you and what you're doing and the things that you're interested in no matter how seemingly uninteresting they should be, you often do have to consider it, if even just for a split second of a thought — perhaps Choi San could be the one.

Hard to argue with the timing, if one were to take cosmic inevitability into consideration.

Do you have feelings for him, or do you simply wish to have romantic feelings for someone that isn't Hongjoong?

Leaving your phone on the kitchen counter when retreating to the couch with the man for your weekly movie viewing, forty or so minutes in, when you hear the light vibration against the counter top, you want nothing more than to be better than it, better than the instinctual need to go and see who it is that might be contacting you.

Better than the small voice in the back of your head that tells you after all of this time, it might be Hongjoong.

And the fact that you get up to check every single time, is reason enough to believe that Hongjoong is far from out of sight and out of mind.

The first night you cuddle with San, it's not under the guise of a chilly draft in the apartment, or accidentally falling to the side and into his arms as told by the romantic comedies. Instead, the desire is born from a desire for intimacy, and to take the edge off of the loneliness — missing the feeling of another body near yours, being touched, being held, being loved, in any capacity.

One long, strong, strange arm over your shoulder, gently pulling you close and into his embrace, San glances down at you only briefly during the interaction, a smile more present through his eyes than on his lips, and it's comforting in all of the same ways that San always is; your rock, there to hold you down through all of the things that he not even know about.

And perhaps it's not fair that he be left in the dark, by now.

A few days later, well after close one evening at the cafe — you watch San bolt about the shop in his terribly ratty jeans and brown work apron — a man having to take charge of everything that day after his only employee came up with an emergency early in the morning, you find it a bit charming watching the way in which he manages any and every obstacle that presents itself before him.

Maybe something you could learn from him.

An hour after closing time, the man finally tosses himself down and into the booth next to you — lying himself down with his head near to your lap and looking up at you with gentle but exhausted eyes as he grins — perhaps deliriously happy with his life decisions. Pleasantly busy, some may say.

Reaching down, you brush stray strands of black hair from his forehead, a loving gesture.

It's time, though.

“Do you have a partner?”

The question feels out of left field in a bizarre way, because it's not all that bizarre, given the involvement the two of you have had over these past three or so months — if anything, perhaps it could be viewed as late.

But San only closes his eyes and carries his grin through the answer of your question. “No, too busy, I think.”

You nod in response despite not being seen.

“What about you?”

The idea of talking about it still feels foreign, daggers of regret and sorrow shooting straight through your chest all over again as if it had only just happened yesterday. Playback of living with and loving with Hongjoong, and then all of the ways that Hongjoong fell apart as a result of you.

But truthfully, your asking San the question was fishing for the opening — and you got it.

“Not currently, kind of fresh off of something with someone,” you inhale sharply, staring into the mug nestled between your hands. “Remember that day I first came in here? That was...the day after the break up.”

Eyes still closed, San hums in response, as if knowing all along that you were simply looking for the opportunity to finally open up to and be heard by him, and quietly offering you just the ear that you had been seeking.

“We were best friends first, then we started sleeping together...it wasn't really supposed to turn into what it did and I think it did before either of us really realized,” you pause, thumb tracing the white rim. “But we never had a conversation about it. I just...moved in one day, and I think — he stopped seeing other people really early on.”

“You didn't?”

You silence at the question, the guilt bubbling up all over again as you ruminate over the venomous words that Hongjoong spat at you that one morning in his loft.

“No.”

San takes the opportunity to sit up in the booth next to you properly, elbow on the table as he leans forward slightly to lay his caring gaze upon your features, urging you to continue on.

“I don't know, looking back it feels so stupid because I knew the whole time that he had feelings. I wanted him to tell me and it just wasn't something he could do — in part, because he knew I was sleeping with other people.”

“Catch 22, isn't it?” San sort of chuckles, it's not funny and you know he's not laughing at you, and truthfully, you do sort of appreciate his lightening of the mood. “You don't stop seeing other people because he won't tell you how he feels, he won't tell you how he feels because you're seeing other people. That's tough.”

“Yeah,” you agree with a sigh. A few moments passing in silence with San's eyes on you, you inhale heavily again before finishing the thought. “I was wrong, though. I mean, I think we were both wrong, but I was never considering leaving him for not speaking on his feelings — not really, but I really, really hurt him.”

Nodding, the man next to you runs a hand through his hair, gathering his thoughts before commenting further on the topic, but he chuckles lightly again.

“What's his name?”

“Hongjoong.”

“I think,” he begins slowly, looking off towards the ceiling as if trying to collect his thoughts from thin air. “Navigating emotional and romantic entanglements is hard. I think most people who end up with someone forever do so mostly by accident. I mean, it takes a lot of constant work of course, but sometimes it can feel very...flip a coin and hope for the best, you know?”

You nod, turning your attention from San and back down to your mug.

Unfortunately, even if it were to be San's intention, there certainly would be no talking you out of the immense guilt of your actions in relation to the situation. This is something you have to make peace with.

“But,” he begins again, a little bit to your surprise. “I think in general, people have to be kinder to one another, and take one another into consideration more. Obviously, you're devastated and still healing, you don't need me to tell you whether you did right or wrong by you, or Hongjoong, or anyone else — it's none of my business, either way — but maybe the world would be just a little better off if we were more empathetic to others.”

He's right, and not only given your situation.

But it's a hard pill to swallow all the same. Having previously subscribed to the idea that well, if exclusivity isn't agreed upon, I can do whatever I want, the truth is that that is true, and has never been untrue.

But even when we're right, sometimes there are consequences to that that we had not previously reconciled with. The loss of your relationship with Hongjoong — perhaps the ultimate price paid for being right.

“Loss is hard, it's always hard,” San continues on. “In any way, losing a loved one is always going to be difficult — even losing people that aren't good for us can hurt an immense amount. Love doesn't always abide by moral bounds, unfortunately.”

“Yeah.”

“Have you talked to him since...I guess the night before I met you?”

“No, but every time the phone rings I check to see if it's him, still.”

“Ah,” he laughs with a huff, as if finally connecting the dots. “So that's why you're always so quick to grab your phone, see, I just thought you were the run of the mill phone addict.”

Playfully slapping his arm, you can't help but smile despite the heavy topic at hand. San's charm.

Slinging an arm up and over your shoulders, San pulls your head down and into his chest — an awkward, aggressive display of affection — like a big brother ruffling the hair of his kid brother in a friendly choke hold.

“Nothing says growth and self-discovery like being absolutely soul crushed by the person you're in love with.”

You figure he's speaking from experience.

“Even worse, by yourself.”

Inviting San up to yours that evening isn't something thoroughly thought or planned out — a choice made on a whim after he accompanies you on your journey home through the wind and light rain of a late-autumn night — you take in the way he smiles so widely at it, something the both of you had long grown accustomed to anyways, no reason to think much of it, anyways.

So with two glasses of red wine on the coffee table between the two of you and your television, San taking it upon himself to pull the blankets from the closet just as you had so many times, both of you settle in for the evening under them — San's glowing, beady eyes glued to the screen mounted on the wall as the film begins.

You find it charming the way he so easily becomes enthralled in any story it is that comes before you — never once complaining, putting up a fight, or having anything negative to say about any movie having been seen, even if you found it to be dull. You find out eventually, upon asking the man, that he thinks there to be merit to every story told, that there be beauty in all experiences and the way that they unfold before us.

Every choice is someone's artistic vision, that they are all valid and have their place in someone's heart and mind.

The memory brings itself to the forefront of your mind as your attention pulls away from the brightness of the screen and towards San next to you — the warmth of knowing that even having bared the ugliest parts of your soul to him, he still cares for you and sees beauty in it.

Leaning to your side and closing the distance between the two of you — something not unfamiliar for these nights — San instinctively seems to raise his arm just enough for you to snuggle up under it, and through the fluidity of the motion, you have another sudden thought as you continue further up and against his side. He notices finally, something different about the motion and it’s enough to take his attention from the film as he turns his head to look at you, and it's in that moment that only his name slips past your lips in a barely heard whisper as you press your lips against his in what could only be remarked as an incredibly hasty, perhaps even juvenile decision.

With only one hand available and not trapped between bodies, you bring it up to the side of his face — the first time you're feeling his skin in such a way, soft with a razor’s edge jawline, your eyes close to the contact before you see his do the same, but feeling the way his hand comes up to settle on your shoulder, you melt further into his mouth.

Until you become starkly aware of the fact that there is no longer contact there, and that the hand once settling now gently pushes you back from where you had originally come.

Before either of you have a chance to speak, the humiliation of it all settles into your stomach fast. You reconsider if you had misread the signs, if there even were any signs to begin with, or if once again this be a result of your impulsiveness. Insecurity.

The need to be wanted.

“Hold on,” he whispers back as you settle onto your side of the couch once again.

Staring forward and into the television, impossibly watching a scene carry out that you are in no way actually taking in — you fall back into the comfort of simply pretending that what's going on isn't. From the corner of your eye, you watch San shift to be facing you, and begrudgingly accept that this is now going to be a situation, a conversation.

Something uncomfortably and quite possibly painful that could have just been avoided had you done the bare minimum to avoid it. Story of your life, really.

“We should talk, probably.”

You sigh at the words, because the last thing you wanted to do was ruin a good thing, the good thing that you have going with this man. Even purely from a friendship standpoint, San offered you so much that you craved, without the physical intimacy — the late night movie cuddling should have been enough — and you can't help but ask yourself why it wasn't. Why you had to take more.

“Okay. I'm sorry, I just thought—“

But San interrupts the thought process before you're able to really get it off the ground. “Listen, it's not that...you're wrong. I mean, I'm not...against it, but you sort of caught me off guard since I didn't think you were interested and you're still in love with—“

He pauses before he says the name, and you realize that with it laid out before you in such a way, that he's probably right.

You turn your head towards him, San nervously carding fingers through long, fluffy, black hair as he chuckles a bit at the scene before him — evidently trying desperately hard to choose his words wisely in this moment.

“We're friends, right?” he asks suddenly, you nod.

“We haven't known each other that long, I know that, so I could be assuming a lot but—“ pausing again to think through his words, the man sighs with finality. “I don't think you're ready.”

You don't think so, either.

“I guess what I mean to say is,” he begins, reaching out for your hand and taking it into his delicately. “I don't think I'd be a very good friend.”

And underneath the inherent pain of rejection, comes a sort of comfort, you find — comfort in understanding, and feeling as though the uncertainty in your relationship with San becomes cleared up just that easily. You wonder for a moment, as the both of you settle back in and San pulls you towards him for a strictly platonic cuddle, how different things may have been in other situations if people had offered reluctance to you more readily — how easy it is to watch people crash and burn as a result of us when we don't have to be there to pick up the pieces of the emotional aftermath.

You think of Yunho.

We're always responsible for ourselves, but it once again calls into question where our moral responsibility for others starts and ends. Slipping your fingers into San's and squeezing gently only to pull your hand away thereafter — a physical confirmation of your thankfulness for being in your life and being the man that he is.

To know better, to be better. Better than them and better than you.

The truth of the matter is that Hongjoong doesn't have to be replaced. The memory of him, the idea of him, how he served being in your life always being something important, not to be overwritten by another man, another body, another experience. That even in spite of how it ends, it's special, and something worth holding onto instead of attempting to forget it.

Learning how to live with the grief, and function through it, rather than bury it deep in hopes that it never rises up again.

This is growth.

You find that rarely is there anything exciting about a Sunday.

And naturally, that would be soon to change.

Hearing the vibration of your phone on your nightstand, early to rise with no reason to be up early on this particular day, you rub the sleepiness out of your eyes just enough to pry them open to read what it is that the notification has to offer you.

You've learned to stop expecting it to be Hongjoong, however, the name present offering equal surprise.

“Hey, bit of a long time, how are you?”

Wooyoung.

Unable to help the way that hearing from him brings a smile to your face, you open your phone quickly and begin typing up your reply.

>you: good, actually. busy. how are you?

He begins typing just as quickly.

>Wooyoung: Also good. I'm in the area, want to have lunch?

Tilting your head inquisitively at the offer, finding it more than a bit bizarre that the man would be asking you out given...everything, you admit to yourself that you have no reason to question Wooyoung's intentions, and accept his invite — sending him over a location for lunch as you roll yourself out of bed and begin the motions to looking presentable.

And you admit that when you lay eyes on him, you wish you had done more — lazy jeans, t-shirt and a jacket, Wooyoung is already there when you enter through the front doors with a jingle, sitting across the way in pressed, black slacks and a perfectly fitted white button down, you assume that he's coming off of work, even if it's Sunday.

But his hair is styled up, which from what you've gathered, tends to mean trouble.

“Walk of shame?” you joke, setting your bag down on the booth next to him but opting for the chair just across for yourself. The man scoffs playfully, pretending to be slighted by the implication of his whereabouts the night prior.

“I'll have you know, I have no shame,” he squints at you as he leans across the table to utter the words, you roll your eyes. Same old, same old. “Actually, conference thing just down the way, figured I'd check in with you and see how you're doing.”

“Worried about me?” you ask.

Wooyoung shrugs slightly, “Maybe a bit.”

The thought brings you warmth, knowing that the man still cares for you in some way despite not needing to, and also that he probably shouldn't, given the scenario. The two of you settle as a waitress comes to the table, Wooyoung insisting that you order anything you want and that it's on him — you know it to be an impossible fight to win should you even want to, and accept his terms, but as she leaves the table side to put the order in, silence takes over, and you become painfully aware of the awkwardness of the two of you meeting like this.

Internally questioning what he knows now, with so much time passed, surely Hongjoong would have disclosed more, the finer details of everything to his friend — all of your shame and humiliation out on display in what you could only assume be more than a handful of alcohol and rage fueled evenings at Wooyoung's or out where your ex felt it cathartic to air all of your dirty laundry.

The thought of Hongjoong referring to you in such ways, just as he had the last night you saw him, but not even for your own ears to hear — instead for others, people who weren't there, who don't get it.

Maybe there's nothing to get, and he was entitled to his hurt, after all.

All of this brings you to the thought of how many other people Hongjoong had been drowning his sorrows in since you, as well. Less through words, and more through his irreparable need to express his feelings through physicality.

It's not Wooyoung's job to be Hongjoong's keeper, but in a way, you did sort of hope that the man had been keeping an eye on him in the past three months.

Regardless, as the moments of silence tick by between you, the curiosity — an insatiable need to acquire information that will more than likely only serve as a gateway to more pain — bubbles up and into your chest in a way that you find stifling, like you'll die if you don't get the words out, and seek a word of confirmation that deep down, you already know.

But you have to, all the same.

Clearing your throat, you make eye contact with Wooyoung as he brings his glass up to his lips as if with anticipation of precisely what it is that you're going to lay out for him.

You wouldn't be surprised if he was two steps ahead of you, after all. The human mind sort of being his job.

“How's Hongjoong?” you say, nearly inaudible and whispered out reluctantly as if embarrassed by the fact that you're asking at all.

You can't see Wooyoung's lips, vision obstructed by the rim of the cup, but the way that his ears pull back and his eyes narrow, you can tell that he's smiling into it.

Yeah, he knew.

Setting it down on the table, he leans back comfortably in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and exhaling. “He's well, has a gallery opening Thursday next week, actually.”

Eyebrows raising in surprise, your first thought is how did you not know, before the horrible sensation of remembering precisely why that is following so shortly after. You nod slowly, forcing the smile.

It's not that you're not happy for him, rather, it serves as a reminder of how unhappy you are without him.

“Wow, that's amazing, been a long time coming.”

“It has, he's more or less thrown himself into his work for the past few months, you know how he is.”

Humming in affirmation, you take a sip of your own drink, the burning desire to question further causing your chest to feel as though it's caving in on itself, you figure, what's it hurt to ask? Wooyoung can just tell you he won't answer.

The pain being, of course, the answer itself.

“Has he been,” and you pause mid-sentence as the man's eyes shift suddenly to your own again at the words already uttered. “Um...dating?”

You watch him blink slowly, his features sort of softening in an instant — it's compassion.

And pity.

“Yeah, of course.”

It stings more than you anticipated — and if you thought the feeling of your chest collapsing was anything before, the way that you feel now having nothing on that — throat dying and tightening and desperately trying to keep it together, how it's been too long for you to feel like this about such a thing, and you need to keep it together, at least, until this lunch is over with.

But Wooyoung is quick on the uptake as well, shifting in his seat and quickly making an attempt to change the subject slightly. “What about you? Have you met anyone?”

'Have you met anyone?'

A bizarrely intricate question to answer, you find yourself thinking as you parse through the intricacies of your friendship with San, before eventually and wholly deciding on — and accepting — the absolute truth of the matter.

“Yeah, I met a guy — San, we're just friends, though.”

Shifting again, Wooyoung leans forward with elbows on the table, carefully scanning your surroundings before speaking as if there would be anyone listening in on the conversation taking place between the two of you for any good reason at all, but theatrics aside, you give him your undivided attention as he exhales heavily, squinting as he looks up at the ceiling as if still trying to come to a decision about something, and whether or not it's a good idea to do so.

“I probably shouldn't do this—“

Always a great way to start a sentence.

Part of you braces for the worst: news of Hongjoong getting married, or having a child on the way.

“—You should come to Hongjoong's opening.”

“Should I?”

The response comes out suddenly, without a second thought, and you're almost regretful of it the way that it sounds as though you would have no interest in doing that — instead, the response is born of utter shock and surprise — the idea that you of all people should go to something of his, and at the insistence of one of his closest friends, at that.

“I mean, yeah, it's not super formal, or anything — bring San if it makes you more comfortable.”

Stilling in your chair, you inhale sharply at the thought of it — the thought of seeing him again, and what that might entail for you, for him, for the both of you. And you know that Wooyoung wouldn't set you up, at least, not purposefully — never would he invite you with the knowledge that it would be completely ill-received on Hongjoong's end.

Certainly, not a promise he can make though, you'd imagine. Perhaps going off of the best knowledge that he has — regardless, a glimmer of positivity in the otherwise grim surroundings of yours and Hongjoong's relationship. Not hope, and not a promise either — but a glimmer of something not so vile and hateful as the way it had been left months before.

“I'll think about it,” you lie, the twisting of anticipation in your gut telling you that you have every intention of being there, but not wanting to sound too eager.

And once again, when the thought comes to you, you can't help yourself — the possibility of simply sitting on it proving to be too much for you all over again.

Turns out it is quite easy to dump one's thoughts and feelings onto Wooyoung, who knew?

“Why are you inviting me to this thing that Hongjoong might not even want me at?”

You offer the question suddenly and much without buffer, evidently so by the way Wooyoung chokes mid sip on his drink as he hears it, desperately grasping at a napkin on the table in an attempt to wipe his face before dribbling liquid on his surely-far-too-expensive work shirt. The man snorts at the question, crumpling up the napkin and tossing it back onto the table before glancing at you and smiling.

“I'm allowed to get away with a lot of stuff with Joong,” he starts, sort of coy in tone but also pointed. “Really, I think that enough time has passed now that the...option for reconciliation can be revisited in a healthy way.”

You think that your heart may simply beat straight out of your chest and present itself in front of the blonde across the table from you as you listen to the words. Reaching forward towards your drink and upon realizing the way that your hands quake, you opt instead for comfortably settling them into your lap.

You're terrified. Terrified of this, terrified of Hongjoong, terrified of whatever this could be.

The future. The unknown.

“That said, don't get your hopes up,” he amends with a sigh, standing and grabbing his coat while simultaneously motioning for you to stand and see him off. “I have to get back to work but — go because you want to see him be successful, because you want to see him be great on his own, not with ulterior motives.”

Something surprisingly difficult to agree to, and deep down, you know that Wooyoung has a realistic grasp of the situation — that what he's asking is an impossibility, and that deep down, you will always hold a candle, and remain in hopes that something spark once more between the two of you.

What he's asking is to do your best to temper expectations. Do your best to be there for Hongjoong, and not for yourself.

And as you watch Wooyoung disappear out of the front door of the establishment and around the corner, just as quickly do you dig your phone out of your bag and unlock the screen, navigating to your messaging app and opening the second most recent box sitting there.

“Are you doing anything Thursday evening?”

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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

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

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breathings-of-the-heart · 3 years

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Stuck on You (Levi Ackerman x Childhood Friend! Reader)

A/N: Hi, guys! I just want to preface by saying that this is a TWO (maybe a three if i decide to write an epilogue drabble) PART SERIES, and I have just a few more scenes to write before I can post it! I don’t expect this one to do so well, to be honest, but it’s been so long since I’ve written anything I’m proud of and I think I’m happy with how this turned out. So yes, stay tuned for part 2 which i will link at the end once it is posted. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Angst, season one/no regrets ova spoilers

Word Count: 3.5k

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

5 years ago

“Why is it that you always seem to be on my case the most?” Your frustration was obvious and your patience dissipated, feet shuffling in their spot as you finally turned to face him. “You never nag Isabel this much.”

For a moment, Levi didn’t respond, scanning your body for injuries. After asserting that you were indeed okay, he stepped over the unconscious man who laid on the ground, jaw set in anger as he walked forwards until he was so close you had to tilt your head slightly to keep eye contact.

Your snappy behavior was uncharacteristic. It only fueled his temper. The raven shook his head in disapproval, trying to keep his anger in check as you glared at him defiantly.

“Isabel doesn’t make such careless mistakes,” he pointed out coldly. “You almost got yourself hurt, (Y/N)! What would you have done if I hadn’t shown up to cover your ass?”

The both of you stood there in silence for several minutes, gazing at each other and listening to your uneven breathing. His face, unlike so many others, never really did reveal everything he was thinking. Feeling. You were dared to search for something else in his steady gaze besides disappointment, but for once, you could not tell what you saw. It was infuriating, humiliating, and hurtful.

“Sometimes I wonder if there’s even a brain inside your thick fucking skull.”

His harsh words didn’t normally cut you, but this time you flinched, looking away from Levi as all the fight drained out of you.

 Wearing your jewelry out at night was a careless mistake, that you could admit. What was hard to swallow was the fact that you had just been mugged, and nearly assaulted, yet all Levi could do was find the time to scold you, not seeming to care at all if you were shaken up by what happened.

It didn’t scare you that the other man’s hands found their way onto your skin. It didn’t scare you that something bad could have happened had Levi not knocked him out. You weren’t afraid of any of it; you were afraid that all the raven-haired man could see you for were your mistakes.

“So you think I’m a burden then?” you asked, choking up.

Your change in tone caught Levi’s attention. You suddenly looked smaller, and more vulnerable than the last time he looked at you. He sighed again, shaking his head softly. It took all your strength not to shy away from his fingers as they threaded through your hair, stopping on your shoulder and tugging you against him. You let Levi do it nonetheless, knowing this was his way of saying sorry; knowing this was his way of saying: “I’m tough on you because I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

You pressed your ear against his beating heart, letting the sound soothe you.

“No, brat. I don’t think that. Let’s just go home, and forget about it,” his voice was more gentle this time.

You sniffled and nodded, chest bursting as Levi placed a feather light kiss on the top of your head.

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

You never thought you’d miss the Underground. Especially when taking into consideration the miserable days after Levi, Isabel, and Farlan took that fateful deal, and were forced to leave you behind.

Your feelings on the matter were conflicted, of course, but you were relieved and happy that the people who mattered most had such a big opportunity. They didn’t need to see you crying, nor hear about how scared you were to be by yourself. Each one deserved better than that, so you put on a brave face as they reassured you over and over that they’d come back. You beamed as brightly as you could, sending them off with words of encouragement as you continued fighting off the lingering feeling of dread as they left.

You didn’t want to be a nuisance. Never wanted to be the reason they’d hold themselves back.

Although he didn’t show it, Levi took it the hardest. He implored you to stay alive, in a scolding tone that he only ever used when he was worried. You could hold your own, but weren’t a fighter like the other three. The stern male had only ever been thankful of your gentle nature in the past, surprised to be cursing it now that he couldn’t protect you. But for him, you’d try your hardest, knowing that with a little faith and patience, you could be reunited in the future.

The goodbye had been bittersweet, your lips slotting against his for the very first time. In a way, the way he kissed you seemed more like a promise than a farewell. His arms were wrapped around you all night, warmth lulling you to a sleep that otherwise, would never have been able to claim you.

Parting afterwards the following morning became all the more difficult because of it.

When Levi pulled a few strings with his newfound respected status and got the military to sponsor your citizenship, you were over the moon. Becoming a soldier was the last thing you expected out of your life, but wherever Levi and the others went, you would gladly follow. You felt at home again, throwing your arms around the man for the first time in months and giggling at the fact that while he accepted the gesture and patted your head awkwardly, his lack of affection never changed.

But you were quickly learning that the ideological existence that lived right above your head was just an illusion. You came only to find your friends dead, and Levi more closed off to you than he’d ever been before. Up here, things were far from perfect, and as time went on, you instead yearned for the past if only to appreciate it better a second time around. And although things slowly got better, life was not yet finished throwing its hardships your way.

The last person you had left slowly became out of reach, as time apart inevitably distanced the two of you and gave someone else the opportunity to fill that hole in his heart.  

Reality, you found, was much crueler under the blue of the sky.

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

“You don’t have to deny it, Levi. I know you better than anyone. I see the way you look at her,” you whispered, wringing your hands together in a feeble attempt to rid of the painful churn in your stomach. “I see it because you used to look at me that way.”  

It was admirable, at least, the effort you put in to keep your voice even. But the silence that followed those broken words was pitiful. The silence made it even more difficult to meet the gaze of the man in front of you. Levi had every opportunity to deny the truth of your burning statement; to bring you back into his arms and reaffirm his love like he used to. Like he would if maybe things were different.

You knew, he had no desire to do that now. Instead, the Captain’s eyes screwed shut and a light sigh escaped his perfect lips, the warmth of it tingling your skin. It was nostalgic, almost, being alone with Levi like this. His face was nearer to yours then it had been in months, enough so that you could make out every tiny detail. The irony of it seemed mocking: for once, you couldn’t bear to look at him. Not that you needed to, with every feature of his sure to forever haunt your memory.

But now all you could see were the interactions they had. Your vision consisted of watching as their bond and understanding grew. It was created in such a short amount of time, but hardly unpredictable with the amount of time Levi and Petra spent together. Even if Levi himself had not realized it, for you, it was plain as day. You knew him better than anyone. Could see that there was no pain in Levi’s eyes when he looked at her. Afterall, unlike you, Petra wasn’t a painful reminder of the past.

Despite his physical closeness, this was the most detached you’ve ever felt from the male. The space between you was strange and unfamiliar. Lonely and cold.

At your words, he exhaled through his nostrils.  

“I would never be unfaithful, (Y/N). I never have been,” he spoke firmly, in that certain tone of speaking only he could manage. “I promised I would never leave you.”

A tear spilled down your cheek, despite your best brave face. It was too much to handle, even for a calloused girl like you. Because despite everything, Levi had always been there. It seemed scary to have life any other way.

Said man took your hand gently, handling it like porcelain. It wasn’t until his skin touched yours that you realized your fingers were shaking, and your facade was crumbling. His gesture was another reminder of what once was. The familiarity of his skin a testament to all the time spent simply existing with one another.

How did it come to this?

“A lot has changed since then, it seems,” you laughed softly, for once pulling away from his touch. “I bet you can’t even look at me without thinking about those two, huh?”

You never once thought it was his fault. Even if you told him that, you knew Levi would always take accountability. Knew he would blame himself for taking Isabel and Farlan away from you. You should have seen this coming. It was inevitable that your love would be tainted, and that he’d find it somewhere else, even if it was unintentional.

“(Y/N), wait—“ there was a small panic that awoke in the raven’s steely eyes that only those who truly knew him would be able to detect.  

“—You know how I feel about you, don't you? I want to be the one who you'd wake up next to every morning. The person you'd trust enough to spill all your secrets to, the one you want to hold close, the one who would make it hurt too much to ever let go. I want to be the person who can make you smile, or laugh until you can't breathe. Your first and last thought of the day, and the one you wonder about even when they’re not around.”

You swallowed a whimper, fists clenched at your sides as your restraint came undone. It was all you’d ever wanted since you were small and starving and Levi was all you had to hold onto.

"But more than anything I want you to be happy. You deserve it.”

And because that’s how much I love you.

“I’d spent the rest of my life with you, if you asked me to,” the stoic Captain stated, as simply and mindlessly as if reciting the weather.

You knew it was true. You also knew better than to let your mind wander to that fantasy, or to let a world come into fruition in which you stopped Levi from pursuing his happiness; held back simply because his loyalty knew no bounds. You refused to be that selfish. You’d rather die a miserable death, a thousand times over. Rather endure this anguish for as long as it resided in your heart then watch his indifference turn to hatred as years of a one-sided relationship droned on and on.

He doesn’t want you anymore.

“I know, Levi.” You paused for a long moment. “Petra's wonderful. I don't hate either of you, I want you to remember that."

You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying desperately to forget the feeling of Levi’s lips on your skin, your face against his chest. The warmth between your ribs or the butterflies in your stomach, or the fireworks of passion that only he could make you feel. Tried to forget the rare but special, secret words of affirmation only your ears got to hear, and the goosebumps they’d send across your skin.

You wanted to erase it all, if only to make it easier to walk away with the knowledge you’d never feel any of that again.

It was pathetic.

There wasn’t anything left to be said. So with the task near impossible, looked at your lover, your best friend, your rock, your Levi, and turned away.

You only managed three steps before a voice followed you and a hand closed around your wrist.

“Is this what you want?” He sounded apathetic, but you knew better. His underlying worry only made the pain feel worse.

“I don’t know.” At the very least, you were honest.

"Will I see you again?"

As adaptable as he was, Levi was never a fan of the unconventionality that was “change.” He was never surprised, quick to go with the flow, even if he preferred certainty and steadiness.

This conversation, though, was one he never expected.

"Of course," you forced a tiny smile, knowing it was more convincing than it felt. "I just need a breather. I'll be back for dinner." The words tasted bitter in your mouth.

That was the first and only lie you'd ever tell Levi Ackerman, having handed in your resignation papers to Erwin just yesterday.

Forgive me, Levi.

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

Snow fluttered down from the sky, coating the local shops and roofs of buildings with a thick, white blanket. Merchants and store owners alike grumbled their disapproval, bustling to sweep the front of their shops. The air was crisp and biting, yet you relished in the feeling and absorbed the atmosphere. Drunk garrison soldiers loitered around merrily, cheeks flushed from alcohol, catching the flakes in their hair and occasionally slipping on hidden ice in their drunken stupor. It made you chuckle softly, the residences of Wall Roses’ inconvenience the source of your contentment-- this was your first time seeing snow, the real thing a thousand times better than anything you read about in any book.

You strolled through the marketplace, a basket holding bread, dried meats, cheese, and several fruits resting in the crook of your elbow. Your coin purse felt lighter than it had that morning, yet you carried on nonetheless, curious as to what Wall Rose had to offer. Children ran past you, throwing snowballs at each other and nearly running into you because of their haste. The sight made you grin as one of them bumped into one of the street market’s booths, knocking over a few items as he went.

The woman behind the counter chastised them, her shouts growing louder when they barely spared her a glance and blended into the crowd of shoppers. Nick nacks and books were left scattered in their wake, askew on the cobblestone ground.

“Need help, ma’am?,” you asked her, picking up the objects from the ground.

“Thank you, dearie,” she sighed gratefully, taking them from your hands. “Kids these days, so reckless and always in such a hurry.”

You laughed airily, mirth swimming in your eyes.

“You’re just lucky they didn’t steal anything,” you joked, reminiscing about your own thieving past. Your attention turned towards the noting the soldiers now dozing off on top of their card table nearby, tutting their behavior lightheartedly. “Levi, if only the police were like that back when we--”

Out of habit, you turned around to meet his gaze, heart clenching when you remembered he wasn’t there. Your fists clenched to prevent you from smacking yourself at your carelessness. He’s not here, dumbass.

“What was that, hun?” the woman behind the counter inquired, preoccupied in sorting her things.

You put on your best smile, shaking your head before your thoughts could fill with images of a certain raven-haired, steele-eyed, heart-stopping male. The back of your eyes stung, the momentary joy of your first real winter quickly fading away.

“Nothing important.”

This is for the best, (Y/N). You’ve only ever gotten in the way, his whole life. Let the man be.

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

It had been a few years since that last encounter with him. Part of you still wondered if Levi tried looking for you after realizing your true intentions of never coming back. You hoped he didn't, imagining instead that he'd made the most of the opportunity you'd given him. Prayed that it wasn't all for naught and he instead pursued what (or who) truly made him happy, instead of worrying about other people. In truth, you became content with life, learning to look back on memories fondly and being thankful for their existence.

Residing above ground was enough reason to be grateful in itself, and you did your best to make the most of it. Your days were now spent in ways that paid tribute to your humble beginnings: individuals from the underground who managed to secure citizenship to the surface were put into your care. You helped men, women, and children alike assimilate into living on the surface, which included introducing the area, and assisting in finding housing and jobs. It was rewarding work, but more than anything, reminiscent to be able to see the wonder when their eyes meet the clouds for the very first time. The flickers of hope from your clients were things you carried with you every day. Your chosen profession left plenty of free time, however, as it was relatively rare for individuals to pay the hefty toll of climbing up those stairs.

Your life was average, and for the most part, uneventful. The quietness that accompanied mediocrity proved to be comforting, however. It was a far cry from the days of constantly looking over your shoulder and needing to carry a knife in your boot, just in case.

At first, it was difficult not to cry at the thought of the stoic, raven-haired Ackerman. The heartache weighed down in your chest for a good amount of time. The simplest things reminded you of Levi, but after a while, instances where he’d cross your mind became fewer and further between. With a nicer home than anything you previously owned, a livable income, and an overall peaceful existence, you didn’t have any regrets.

At least, that was what you told yourself until you heard the news.

On off days you worked as a waitress at one of the many taverns within Wall Rose. Large tips were one of the many perks that drew you in originally. The chatter of the customers and frequent bar-goers was a welcome ambience, and an opportunity for you to combat the occasional feeling of loneliness.

Occasionally, Scout Regiment gossip would filter through, especially about Humanity’s Strongest and the new titan shifter Eren Jeager. Updates were nice, knowing Levi was safe and thriving in what he did best. But as you placed a pint of beer on one of the tables and overheard a heavy set man babble loudly to his comrade, dread splashed over you in waves.

“The Captain was the only survivor in his squad. He wasn’t even with them when it happened, poor guy. He must feel terribly guilty.”

Your vision became hazy as you tried not to panic; of all the rumours that filtered through the drunk mouths of customers, you had never heard bad news like this before. The last you’d heard, human kind was given a beacon of hope, and things were looking up after Eren Jaeger managed to plug up the hole in Trost.

“Excuse me, but which squad did you say this happened to?” you heard your voice say.  

Across the table, the other man took a swig of his drink, and grunted indignantly.

“Levi Squad, the best in the military I heard. A shame, but I suppose even the top in the Survey Corps are still just suicidal maniacs when it comes down to it.”

No, no, no, no. This wasn’t supposed to happen!

After that, everything became white noise. You could only register every third movement, heart thundering in your ears. The tray you’d been holding to carry the drinks clattered as it fell to the ground, causing a few gasps and strange looks to be thrown in your direction. In your horrified state, dread weighed down like lead in your body. You rushed to the back room, tears clouding your vision as you tried not to stumble.

You gripped the edges of the washroom sink, dizzy with this newfound information.

Levi has now lost more people that he loved, and was probably experiencing the same survivor’s guilt as he did with Isabel and Farlan. He was most likely suffering alone right now, never having been one to let people see his vulnerability so easily.

You did not witness first hand what your friends’ deaths meant to him. When the Captain waited for you at the top of the staircase, his expression never seemed out of the ordinary. Levi was kind enough to let you enjoy your first few days up with him simply enjoying the newfound freedom. He made the excuse that your two other comrades were out on business somewhere, and would be back to see you soon. Maybe, at the time, your excitement blinded you from the deeper emotions hidden in his voice.

When you found out the truth, their passing broke you. The fact that Levi shouldered any blame, however, is what twisted the knife. He had been grieving by himself; feeling that pain without anyone to comfort him. He had to put on a brave face just to see you; secretly spending that last month alone, probably relaying over and over how he would break the news to you.

Your remorse increased tenfold when it was him who held you, and him who put you back together, just like he had to for himself. And now he was by himself all over again.

I have to do something.

Splashing water on your face, you straightened up and looked in the mirror, a sudden surge of guilt coursing through your veins.

You refused to let Levi be alone this time around, no matter how he might feel about you now.

~~~~~~~

Part Two!

#snk levi #levi #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman gif #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #AoT #attack on titan imagines #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #snk fic #aot fic #levi x reader

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fanfickittycat · 3 years

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One of Us

Title: One of Us

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen (anime)

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Reader

Genre: Angst to fluff

Fic Summary: You return to Tokyo where you are reunited with the man who broke your heart a decade ago

Rating: T

A/N: my first Nanami fic!!! I love him so much. Just a simple one-shot about rekindling your love after being apart with a fluffy ending. Yes, the title is an ABBA reference, no I will not be taking any questions on it at this time. If you'd like to read this on AO3 then you can here otherwise the fic is below the cut. Let me know what you thought!!!

I’m lucky that I came back during the spring, you thought to yourself, as you meandered around campus. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, and pink petals danced around your ankles with every step. Even the scent infused itself into the air, carrying a bittersweet undertone to it as you reminisced about your time here as a student. The sound of chalk on the board; the feel of the grass against your cheek as you hit the ground during training; the look on Nanami’s face when he rejected you and this world. It had been spring then too.

“You’re here!” trust Gojo to spoil a melancholy moment. You rolled your eyes playfully, accepting the hair ruffling from your upperclassman with weak jabs back at him.

“Gojo, stop” you laughed “we’re not kids anymore.”

“Says who?” he pulled away, adjusting the black blindfold over his eyes “you still look the same.” He teased, patting your head for emphasis. You still came up a whole head shorter than him and then some.

“You don’t” you retorted “you look old. What are you, like 40?”

“What?! You know I’m not” he whined. He was so easy to wind up sometimes. You half listened to him as he complained to you, citing his skin care routine and the regular comments he got about how youthful he looked before nudging him teasingly. The two of you walked back down the path towards the main building, feeling the nostalgia seep into your bones softly.

“You really haven’t changed” you said with a smirk “still vain as ever.”

“And you’re still as sharp tongued as ever.” He sighed, putting an arm around you “still. I’m glad you’re back. I’ve been waiting for an excuse to throw a party.”

“You’re a lightweight, Gojo” you said, remembering the time he had snuck in vodka during the winter of his final year. He had wanted to show off and ended up throwing up after two shots, before he passed out in the same pile of vomit. He had never snuck in alcohol again.

“You’re not, I remember you and Nanami having a drinking contest one time.”

“It wasn’t a drinking contest. We were just having wine and cheese. It was a very civilised affair.”

“You must have done a lot of that kind of thing in Europe.”

“Not really” you shrugged “it’s not really something to do when you’re alone.” You didn’t mean to sound so sad, but it wasn’t easy to hide, especially from a man with Six Eyes. You were glad he didn’t press you on it, instead opting to blabber on about how great his new first year students were, and his unmatched skill as a teacher. Gojo always seemed to walk the line between being insufferable and incredible. Nanami had often winced whenever he heard Gojo start a new tangent, and you would rub his back reassuringly. It became an unspoken gesture between the two of you. When you’d failed at mastering a new cursed technique, Nanami would be there to hand you a tissue for your bloodied nose and rub soothing circles on your back. Maybe that’s why your final moment together was so sad. You’d told him you loved him, and he told you that he wanted nothing to do with sorcery in exchange for a normal, human life. He’d left you crying, and the absence of his palm on your back made you feel colder and more alone than ever.

“…so the official party is at 7 but the real party will start after. Are you listening?”

“Official party at 7. Real party after.” You repeated “I’ll wear something that can suit both.”

You had wanted to ask Gojo if Nanami was going to be there, but you held your tongue instead. You hadn’t heard anything from him after you two had split ways, with him becoming a salary man and you going abroad to conduct research. You already knew that if you asked, you’d be met with disappointment. Still, perhaps it was better this way. You might actually be able to relax tonight and remember what social interaction felt like. You wouldn’t have to worry about what to say if you saw him there, or overthink the black dress you were planning on wearing tonight. You’d heard that even Utahime was going to be there. You owed it to everyone making an effort for you, to be present and gracious.

The nerves were still there of course. You were happy to see the small collection of former classmates and teachers there, and excited to catch up. It was strange to think of how close you all were once and then you’d left and avoided talking to anyone beyond a few words at a time. Now, the bonds between you were a little rusty but still strong. It calmed the butterflies in your stomach to know that everyone still accepted you, though Utahime scolded you for it. Your eyes kept lingering at the door, in anticipation of him entering the room with a curt apology about his lateness but then you’d catch yourself and internally reprimand your actions.

“You’ve always been too tough on yourself” Utahime said, sipping her tea knowingly.

“Sorry” you apologised lamely, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

She huffed at you “stop apologising, it’s not your fault that men are idiots.” She eyed Gojo, who was trying to impersonate Yoshinobu, and sighed deeply. It made you smile.

“Thanks” you wanted to say something more but the lack of social interaction over the many years constricted your words. You didn’t even know what to say, let alone how to physically say it. Utahime didn’t mind however and squeezed your shoulder.

“God, I can’t stand him” she said, pinching the skin between her eyebrows. You turned to see Gojo laughing obnoxiously at something.

“Still single too, I presume” you said.

“You know he could never be tied down and imagine that poor woman” she groaned “it’s best he stays single. Imagine if he procreated.” She shuddered, making you laugh.

Ieri joined the two of you, shaking her head at her co-worker’s antics “I’m glad you’re back” she said to you “being a woman in this line of work is hard enough, and then you have to deal with that.”

You smiled “I’m glad to be back, even if it’s a little hard sometimes.”

“You know” Ieri looked down at her drink that she had spiked “wounds take time to heal and it’s important to cover them, but you also have to take the bandages off at some point and let it breathe.”

“You’re wise as ever Ieri” you said.

“Hmmm I don’t think so” Utahime said, frowning “if she was so ‘wise’ then she’d quit smoking.” It prompted a whole conversation, part jokes, part argument between the two and then Gojo stepped in to see what was happening which led to him being verbally bullied by the two women as you watched on and laughed.

“You’re all being so mean to me considering I planned this party” Gojo said, mock snivelling “and the after party.”

“That’s true” you said, perking Gojo up instantly “thank you for inviting everyone.”

“We’re not done yet” he said, bringing a corner of his blindfold down to wink at you.

The after party was more chaotic than you had envisioned. Despite not drinking anything, Gojo still managed to scream-sing the lyrics to every song into the karaoke microphone, sometimes even trying to elongate certain sounds in an attempt to emulate Mariah Carey. Needless to say, Utahime was so irritated that she agreed to join Ieri outside while she smoked. You wandered over to the bar and pouring a generous amount of wine into your glass, feeling warm and happy for the first time in a long time. Of course, you knew that it was the alcohol primarily, but it had also been so long since you’d had fun. You were going to allow yourself to enjoy it.

“Didn’t you think I was soulful?” Gojo asked, his grin wide and satisfied like the Cheshire cat.

“Very” you said, watching out the corner of his eye as he poured himself a coke triumphantly “I didn’t even know some of those notes existed.”

He shrugged mock casually “sometimes it’s a curse to be so blessed.” You two continued to talk, laughing at the ridiculous things Gojo said as he sat on the bar stool next to you, leaning casually against the bar. He sat up quickly at one point, looking past you with rapt attention.

“What is it, boy?” you jokingly asked and when he didn’t answer quickly enough you turned to look behind you. There, standing cautiously at the door in a jacket and tie was Nanami.

“Finally,” you heard Gojo murmur but when you turned back to confront him, he had disappeared into thin air. You felt afraid to turn, knowing that Nanami had probably seen you. You felt your heart race in your chest. He was here. This wasn’t a dream or your imagination. The wine made your legs feel weak and shaky as you clumsily stood, pressing your hands down your dress to smooth it out. Your palms felt clammy as you did so. Downing the remainder of the wine in your glass was attractive, but you could already feel his presence near you.

“Nanami” you breathed out, swallowing nervously as you looked up at him. You had often thought about what would happen if you met again and you’d played the scenario in so many ways; one where you were cool and calm, another where you cracked a killer one liner; even one where you’d pull him in for a kiss that would ignite the flames of your relationship. Instead, you felt your nerves shoot through your body and you felt like a mess.

“Your hair” you said lamely, reaching a hand up before stopping yourself and letting your fingers curl into your palm in shame “it’s different.”

“Yes” he seemed taken aback by your sudden note on his appearance “I changed it a while ago.”

“It looks nice” you said, feeling warmth flood your cheeks at your pathetic comment “it suits you.” This wasn’t a lie. The shorter cut emphasised the sharpness of his cheekbones, which looked lethal in the dimmed lighting. He was taller too, if only by a little, and broader as well. You hadn’t anticipated that he’d look better after all this time. It made it hard to think coherently.

“Thank you” he said, “you look well too.” Disappointment already tinged in your stomach. He was just as strict with his feelings now as ever before. You both stood there awkwardly for a couple of seconds, wanting to speak and yet not at the same time.

“How’s normal life working out for you?” You asked, hoping your jovial tone would make things less tense.

“Oh. Well, it didn’t” he said, taking a seat on the barstool and pouring himself a glass of wine to join you “I tried to do it, but I couldn’t. Work is shit.”

Your surprised both you and he when you laughed “and what? This is the height of luxury?”

He smiled into his glass “no, it’s shit, as well but at least I’m better at it.” He raised his glass to you to clink “to this sorcery shit.” You smiled too, eagerly charging your glass to meet his. You watched him sip, allowing yourself to really look at him. Your eyes traced over his profile, drinking in the angles of his jawline and the elegant slope of his nose.

“I’m sure Europe was better” he said, making you snap out of your daze “at the very least, the food must have been delicious.”

“Oh, yeah” you said inattentively, thinking about evenings in foreign capitals where you fell asleep over your work with a half empty bowl of ramen next to you.

“It was interesting, and I learned a lot” you said, repeating what you had told everyone “I’m glad I’m home though.” You looked at him to gauge his reaction. His face was impassive as stone as he nodded. Dejected, you swirled the liquid around your glass, unsure of how to proceed.

“You were so adamant about leaving” you found yourself saying, the wine loosening your tongue “I’d never seen you so determined about something before.”

“I thought I knew everything back then” he sighed “I was so sure that I’d turn my back on this and work hard to maintain a normal life with a stable job, and money, and a family to provide for.”

You felt stunned “I didn’t know you wanted a wife and kids.”

He smiled without humour “well, something like that.” You watched wordlessly as he emptied the glass down his throat.

“I guess this line of work makes it hard to have those kinds of things.” You could picture Nanami in your head, in a dark suit and tie as he kissed his wife and child goodbye before going to work. He’d probably be good at it too. Firm but caring as he helped his child with their maths homework or opened a jar for his wife who would cook dinner for him every night. He’d dote on his family too, taking them to the beach and up the mountains or abroad. He’d probably keep a picture of them on his desk at work too. It pained you that he felt he couldn’t have that; let alone that you could never give him that.

He turned to look at you “well that and I knew I couldn’t tie you down like that.”

“Me?” you couldn’t have hidden your shock if you tried.

“You wanted a career” he said plainly “one that involved research into cursed objects and continuing to improve your skills and techniques. I didn’t want to take that away from you.”

“You didn’t even give me a choice” your throat felt hoarse as you grappled with this new truth “you just made that decision for me.” You stood up, feeling woozy on your tipsy legs but determined all the same to get away. You needed air, and the chance to absorb everything you’d heard. All these years you’d assumed he felt nothing for you, and you’d been so embarrassed and upset that you put yourself in self-exile because of it.

“Would you have gone with me if I asked?” he said, following you up the stairs and out of the basement of the bar. The night air was cold and crisp against your hot body.

“Would you really have given up everything because of me?”

“I did give up everything because of you.” You said, turning to clutch the sleeve of his beige blazer, feeling your heart palpitate as your knuckle brushed the skin of his hand. Tears pricked your eyes and you looked down, feeling the rush of emotions you had kept chained away in the shadows rear its head into the light.

“I’m sorry I realised it all too late” he said, and before you could think he had pulled you into a tight embrace. You fought against him at first, wanting to be angry with him for assuming things on your behalf and making you suffer so miserably for so long, but you couldn’t. You gave in, letting your tears blot onto his rich blue shirt. His tie tickled your cheek as he let you press your face into his chest like you used to. His hand automatically began to take small, gentle laps on your back. He whispered his apologies over and over again, finally pressing a tender kiss on the top of your head.

“Nanami” you mumbled, pulling away so you could look up at him. His eyes were piercing as they regarded you. One of his hands remained on your back, whilst the other came up to cup your cheek fondly.

“I love you” he said quietly, pink appearing in his cheeks as he admitted it to you “and I hope it’s not too late to say it, however I’d understand if you didn’t feel the same. I was awful to you.” He opened his mouth to say something else but stopped when you pressed a finger against his soft lips.

“Kento” you said, tasting the way his name sounded for the first time “I love you too.” He took it as permission to lean down, capturing your lips against his in a kiss that you had been dreaming of since you’d met. He was still cautious as always, not wanting to push you too much, but you couldn’t help but enthusiastically pull him closer, standing on the tips of your toes to be closer to him. You shivered when he opened his mouth to take your bottom lip between his own, sucking on the plump skin as you felt a whisper of wind snake around the two of you, depositing fallen petals on your shoulders like confetti.

#updates #my writing #fanfickittycat #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic #jjk one shot #jjk headcanons #jjk nanami #nanami kento #nanami kento drabble #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento fanfic

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misiwrites · 3 years

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Beyblade Week Day 4

i'm sorry i'm out here still posting things so late but here's my fourth and final 4kingdoms-verse oneshot for @beybladeweek2021, mostly this is late because i was out of town last week but these prompts were also the hardest to make a oneshot about, somehow i managed to make a quirky little story about max anyway.

this takes place probably somewhere right before the beginning of the main fic, or close to it anyways. and i feel like this needs the small explanation that 4kingdoms max looks a bit different because the north has no sunlight (don’t ask me how that works. it’s fantasy)

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

Fears / Animals / Winter

“Aaugh!”

As patient as Max is, the strange sound of Giancarlo’s sudden scream followed by a soft, barely audible thump of something hitting the floor in the walk-in closet is enough to snap his attention from the game console in his hands. He casts a curious look across his bedroom to witness the striped leg of a plush toy sticking out through the narrow crack of the closet door.

Now he can already tell what has happened. Regardless, he drops the game on the couch and jumps to his feet to see what his knight has gotten himself into in the closet.

“You opened the forbidden door!” Max gloats at Giancarlo, now standing ankle-deep in a sea of plush toys. “I told you the games are in the second from left, not from right.”

“Is this why you call that door ‘forbidden’?” Giancarlo asks, one hand still on the handle of the closet door that the avalanche of toys descended on him from. “I expected something more... I don’t know... scandalous... or personal.”

“This is personal. They’re all mine.” Max crouches over to pick one of the plush toys up, the yellow mascot character of a popular Eastern children’s game franchise. “Oh man, these take me back. I haven’t really seen them since Mama ordered them to be put away. She said I was too old to keep them in my bed. But I refused to have them taken out, so I got this closet for them instead.”

“Aha. I don’t mean to judge your decisions, but I think there’s a few too many for a closet of this size.”

“Well, they fit in just fine before you opened the door like an idiot.”

Max lets his eyes scan the colourful blast on the floor, admiring the chaos of all the scattered shapes of different stuffed creatures, some more nostalgic than others but each and every one so familiar to him; some expensive and store-bought, some hand-made by his father or someone else, he hardly even remembers at this point; it’s been so long since he was gifted these toys, and at least a couple of years since Judy wanted them sealed away.

And then one of them catches his eye over the rest, one that makes his heart skip a beat of bittersweet joy and longing. He tramples and kicks his way past other toys to get to the middle.

It’s a plush dog, one whose tattered, worn-out shape isn’t particularly distinguishable as a dog. It has an elongated body and small stubs for legs, folded ears – well, one ear, as the other has come off and been lost to time – and a small, thin tail that’s also on its way to come off its stitches but is barely hanging on, miserably drooping down from the back of the caramel brown animal that’s so thoroughly covered in dirt and dust that it looks grey. The dog’s black button eyes are intact, at least, and it still has a red little tongue sticking out of its mouth.

Max is momentarily frozen in place staring at the dog. This toy brings back so many memories, some of which threaten to turn his stomach as the long-forgotten anxiety rushes back in one tidal wave, it climbs up the ladder of his spine like an unwelcome visitor from the past; but at the same time, he loves this little dog so very dearly, his childhood favourite.

“Look at these, Your Highness!” Giancarlo suddenly yells, snapping Max out of his thoughts. “Really fitting, aren’t they? Doesn’t it make you think of something?”

Max turns to see his knight holding three plush animals on his arms: a snake, a fox, and a miniature horse. Max does remember all of them, but none were his favourites. They must have been gifts from his earlier childhood, he has no memory of actually getting them or ever feeling particularly attached to them.

“Umm,” he says, “no, not really.”

“Don’t you remember? The fairytale? A guy talks to a fox, a serpent, and a horse...”

“No, can’t say that rings any bells.”

“Really?” An idiotic grin spreads on Giancarlo’s face, the same one he flashes every time he gets to feel smarter than his young king. “It’s a traditional Northern folktale! Each animal represents one fear that the dude has, and he has to face them one by one. Well, I don’t really remember the details, but it was something like that.” He lifts the tiny horse closer to his face, as if to study it more closely – or to face it, to stay true to his own words, Max assumes. “Was the third one really a horse? I think it was. I guess horses can be scary to some people. They’re big animals and all.”

Max rolls his eyes, truly wishing that Giancarlo would shut up for once and clean up the mess he’s caused in the walk-in closet – or just do anything else and leave Max be, to sort out the sudden, fairly uncomfortable onslaught of memories caused by the discovery of his old stuffed dog toy.

Instead, Giancarlo keeps talking, as he always does.

“If there was a story about my fears, it would probably be... hmm... never eating cannoli ever again... and never going on another date...”

“Some incredible fears you have,” Max comments. “Tells a lot about your psyche.”

“And what are you scared of, Your Highness? What would you face if you met this guy? Nei-i-i-igh.” Giancarlo waves the tiny horse at Max, truthfully not the embodiment of terror by any stretch.

“Me? Well, nothing, really.”

“Come on, now, no need to be shy. You can tell the good old Gianni.”

“I mean it – I have my magic, so there’s no reason for me to be scared of anything.” There’s nothing that Max can think of that he wouldn’t be able to shield himself from with his magic powers, especially his ability to turn invisible. If nothing can catch him or do as much as touch him, what reason would he have to be afraid? If anything, he loves the thrill of almost being caught but disappearing out of sight on the last second. Max prides himself in being bold and resourceful, the master of stealth, and the youngest Genbu-ou with the ability to summon the holy beast of Genbu in the known history of his kingdom.

As long as he has his magic and the golden locket of Genbu around his neck, he cannot think of anything that could cause him fear; and as the king, he can have all the materia he could ever want, so he never needs to worry about running out of cannoli pastries or whatever else.

“Okay then, tough guy,” Giancarlo snorts. “And what’s that you got there?”

Max’s gaze returns to the dog on his arms. It stares back at him with its pitiful button eyes, black and lifeless.

“This used to be my favourite,” he replies, finding the words coming out of his mouth with slight hesitation. “Papa made it for me...”

“Oh? Prince Tarou knows how to sew stuffed animals? Well, I guess that makes sense, since he’s such a talented craftsman – but still... It’s hard to imagine a burly man like him making something like... that thing.” Giancarlo forces down an obvious cackle, raising a hand to his mouth to hide his amusement. “I mean...”

Max knows what he means, the puppy with a hot dog-like physique is a pathetic sight, but he cannot help feeling just a little insulted by Giancarlo laughing at it. This puppy brought him so much comfort during a time of turmoil, and it was specifically made by his father for that very purpose. Tarou most likely stitched it together over a single night all those years ago.

“You mean what?” he challenges the royal knight, his tone arrogant.

“Uh... Well, you know... Oh, never mind.”

* * * * * *

When he was younger, Max had no objections over his sheltered life in the Snow Glory Palace, as it never even occurred to his child’s mind that it could be anything but; and the thought only came to him as he entered the rebellious years of puberty and by the questionable ideas that his whimsical knight planted in his head, the thought that it would be exciting to sneak out of the palace every once in a while and wander around the royal capital out of sight.

Max has always been adored by commoners, as the only son of their beloved (by now former) king, the strong yet beautiful and hauntingly intelligent Mizuhara Judy, the only female Genbu-ou of their lifetime; and as much as Max loves the attention and savours the constant awareness of his status of importance that doesn’t escape anybody in his kingdom, he’s equally entertained by the idea of walking among all these people on a lower social ladder without their knowledge, freely entering spaces where his appearance would normally cause a considerable brouhaha. The complete control over whether he’s perceived or not gives him a great amount of satisfaction.

And, most importantly, his ever-so-predominant mother has no idea about it happening right under her nose. As much as Max loves his parents, like any teenager, he has an innate need to break free and seek independence from them, do as he pleases without their scrutiny, without any adult paying attention to him...

at least sometimes.

How many times has he traversed the narrow streets of the ancient royal capital, heard the snow crunch under his shoes without anyone seeing it’s the young king leaving a trail of footprints on the ground covered in white? And when the snow is quietly falling from the sky, the shield of magic around him reflects his surroundings, camouflaging him from other people’s line of sight, he blends perfectly into the arbitrary dance of the snowflakes in the dark.

Then, sometimes, when he finds a suitable corner or shade or hideout for himself, he plans a delicious little display of seemingly appearing out of nowhere into the spotlight. And all the attention is once again drawn to him.

It’s borderline addicting, that calculated spectacle, the thrill of a surprise and act of rebellion that Max is perfectly aware he’s not allowed to do. That his ice queen of a mother would be absolutely furious if she knew.

Now he’s again walking down a cobblestone street, the stone fence of a cemetery on his right-hand side. There’s a layer of powdery snow on the stone, like the icing of a sugar cake.

A cake, oh, a cake sounds excellent to him; and he’s now across a bridge, and the familiar sight of a cosy little coffee shop greets him some feet away. It has a sign outside, a metallic one, shaped like a kettle that’s hanging above the entrance, the shop’s name written on it in cursive.

Max walks over to one of the shop windows and takes a peek inside, bathes in the golden light coming from the other side of the glass. As expected, nobody pays him any attention, none of the people sitting around the lovely little tables inside see him.

He’s ready to be seen, however, and decides to step inside, greeted by the ring of a bell attached to the coffee shop’s door.

“Good evening!” he says cheerfully upon his entrance, flashing a wide grin to everyone in the shop.

People turn to stare at him. Nobody is smiling back at him.

“Er, good evening,” replies the person working behind the counter. Their voice is polite but wary, they stare at Max like everyone else in the shop, with an expression of wide-eyed confusion.

This is not what Max expected. Where are all the delightful gasps, all the “Oh, Your Highness!” and “It’s the young king!” and “This is such an honour!” – all the surprised smiles and the rush to be the first to shake hands with him? He darts some quizzical glances around the shop, eyebrows raised, but his grin remains.

Maybe he’s come here a few too many times. He should have gone somewhere new instead, not the closest place he could think of.

A bristly feeling that he’s very much not used to suddenly spreads all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes: embarrassment. He’s embarrassed that his magic trick failed, the trick he was so confident in, so proud of.

He needs to get out of here.

And the next moment, he’s walking down a different street, this time in the heart of the city of Resting Palace. The lights here are so bright that they illuminate the black sky and give it a hue of light purple instead, almost a dirty tone, it looks dusty and devours the stars and even the Moon.

He’s walking past numerous people, but nobody turns to look at him. Nobody does as much as grant him a smile of acknowledgment, no faces light up with recognition when he passes by.

He stops to stand in the middle of the street. Someone immediately bumps into him from behind.

“Oh, sorry,” the stranger says and hurries away without looking at him. He doesn’t even have the time to say it was his fault for stopping so abruptly.

Max turns on his heels, lets his eyes wander aimlessly in the scenery. There’s a hotel to his left. There are people everywhere, but none of them are looking his way.

Now another person bumps into him. This is an older man, staggering on his feet and visibly losing his balance for a moment, and he turns to stare at Max with a sullen face.

“Hey, kiddo,” the man groans, “stop blocking the walkway, will ya?”

Max only stares back, not knowing what to say or think. Kiddo? What is this? Why is this person talking to him like this? He’s so dumbfounded by this behaviour that he simply hangs his mouth open without making a sound. Nobody in his entire life has acted this way towards him, and it’s making his blood run cold under his heavy cloak.

On a bewildered whim, he suddenly turns to whoever is passing by his left-hand side on that very moment. “Did you hear how that person talked to me just now?” he asks the passer-by. “How dare he?”

The person he’s talking to casts him a look of utter confusion. He can immediately tell this person doesn’t recognise him, either.

“No, I’m sorry,” the person mumbles hastily and hurries away. Max stares after their disappearing back.

What is happening? What is happening? How could this possibly be happening to him? Now panic is seeping into his heart, he arbitrarily grabs the sleeve of whoever happens to pass by him next.

“Excuse me,” he says breathlessly, “you know who I am, right? Right?”

Another astonished stare, but at least this passer-by is polite. “No, I’m afraid I don’t. Are you perhaps lost?”

“No!” Max’s words now escape as a desperate eruption of discomfort, “I’m the king! The Genbu-ou! Don’t you recognise your king?!”

The stranger’s expression changes slightly – to that of pity, to Max’s horror.

“I’m sorry, boy, I don’t have time to play around with you,” the person says, and the next moment he’s gone.

Max spins around, glancing wildly in every direction, looking for anybody who recognises him. This is the royal capital, isn’t it? It definitely is, he knows the exact street he’s on, but for some reason nobody knows him, he’s only a mile away from the Snow Glory Palace and nobody knows that he’s the king, how could such a bizarre thing ever happen?

“I look like the Genbu-ou, don’t I?” he asks yet another stranger, this time a younger person, a teenager just like him.

The person stops to stare at him, evaluates him with her eyes for a moment, as if she has to think about it first.

“I guess you do,” she finally says, “a little. But Genbu-ousama has spots of black in his hair and skin as clear as snow.”

What? What?

Max drops down to his knees into the snow and now he’s on the riverbank; he hauls his shaking self closer to the aquamarine glow of the water, and he crouches over to look down at his own reflection on the surface.

His hair is yellow like the Sun, bare, the splashes of black brush strokes gone. But his face – his face is covered in something – small dots everywhere, his skin is infested with them, they spread from the centre, the bridge of his nose, in every direction on his skin, he lifts his hands to his face and—

* * *

He opens his eyes. The ceiling of his bedroom is covered in cotton candy clouds of pink and purple, they rotate ever so slowly around the axel of the chandelier in the middle, with stars blinking in and out through the veil.

He rolls over in the four-poster bed that feels like an entire ocean to him. The pillow under his head is wet, it feels gross and he grabs it with two tiny hands, tosses it away as hard as he can and it lands on the edge of the bed. It knocks a couple of his plush toys to the floor.

He can hear voices from behind the bedroom door. It’s Mama and Papa, they are yelling at each other again.

Max rubs his tear-stained eyes and crawls out of bed, wrapping his enormous blanket around him like a cape, he drags it along across the carpet as he makes his way to the door. He stands on tiptoes and opens the door as softly as he can.

He makes his way to the hallway’s railing just in time to see his parents walk into his view downstairs. They’re not yelling anymore but still arguing, in quiet voices now, Max can tell they are spewing arrows of poison at each other even if he can’t make out the words.

He’s staring through the narrow hole in the railing as Papa spots him, it’s probably a subtle sniffle that gives him away up there.

Seconds later, Papa has climbed the stairs and has knelt down to talk to Max in a voice that’s meant to be soothing but is seeping with recently suffocated agitation, and it makes him uneasy.

“Are you having trouble sleeping again, buddy?”

“I don’t want Papa to go away,” Max says, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his orange sleeping gown.

Papa gives him a lopsided smile, pats the top of his head. “I’ll come visit you often, I promise. And – this is only temporary, okay? I will keep talking to Mama, and maybe I’ll be back home in a couple of moons. Papa will bring you lots of presents then, but for starters...”

Now something appears from behind Papa’s back, he’s holding a plush toy dog that has a silly face with a tongue drooping out, its body so long that it nearly matches Max’s height. Papa hands it over to him.

“I made this for you, to help you sleep better. I call it Sleepy, but you can call it whatever you want.”

Max stares down at the dog’s face. It has plain black buttons for eyes, and a third one for a nose.

He presses his own little nose against the button, immediately smearing the dog in the snot and tears of a six-year-old.

“Take me with you, Papa,” he says, the words muffled against the dog’s snout. “Don’t leave me alone.”

“You won’t be alone, Max, Mama will be here.”

“She’s always working, she never pays attention to me.”

“That’s not true...”

“I don’t want to be alone, Papa.”

* * *

He opens his eyes. The ceiling of his bedroom is velvet blue, with the silver sickle of a crescent Moon glowing faintly in the night’s silence.

His heart is beating in an anxious rhythm inside his chest. He quickly sits up in the bed, driven by the panic of the lingering terror of his nightmare that makes his fingertips tingle and his stomach turn, and he gasps for air.

It was just a dream. Just a dream.

The momentary urge to rush to his feet, to check that he actually is who he’s supposed to be in the mirror, recedes quickly upon the realisation that he’s in his own bed, in the royal palace, exactly where he should be. He’s covered in sweat, the blankets feel uncomfortably sticky against his skin, he tosses them aside.

Then he notices three shapes in the darkness, sitting at the end of his bed. A row of three plush animals is staring at him from a distance.

A fox, a serpent, and a horse.

#my writing #4kingdoms stuff #LetItRip2021 #iconic that i had to stop in the middle of posting this bc i saw a spider and was too fucking scared to sit down again

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oathkeeper-of-tarth · 4 years

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2020 SU Fic Sampler - WIP Showcase

So in my continued attempts at distraction, I trawled through my SU fanfic folders, looked at the ol’ endless WIP pile. Figured I’d do a little roundup of some that are in something resembling a decent state. Maybe even see where interest lies and all that, get some attention and validation, you know, all that good stuff one craves. Of course, there’s loads more than this, and I might one day post some things I wrote but never quite managed to finish up, or that got super jossed in ways I couldn’t get myself to work around.

Now, in no particular order, here’s 8 draft snippets totaling almost 6000 words - not very polished, obviously, some quite rough around the edges, some long, some short, some that work better without context than others. But here they are anyway, with an utterly predictable array of focal characters. Any missing segments or my asides/notes in the text are [written like this], because I usually write very non-linearly. Hope you all like mood whiplash!

P.S. I live for comments.

Like Talking To A Wall, aka Bismuth making friends with the wall, statue, and floor Gems. Early precursors to radicalisation and “I would have liberated everyone”, perhaps. Started as one of my first reactions to the Diamond Days episodes.

“Hey, thanks for listening.”

“Anytime. You’re lucky I’m so supportive,” Mica piped up from up on her arch.

Bismuth laughed. Bittersweet. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am.”

Then, with a surprisingly gentle hand pressed to the carvings she’d been so careful about, she added a soft: “I’ll miss you.”

“Chin up! It’s gonna be a lovely off-planet adventure for you,” Granite rumbled from just above her head. “A brand new colony! Think of the sights!”

“You can tell us all about it when we see you again.”

Bismuth leaned back, pressing her whole back against the wall, reluctant to leave, even if a snooty shift supervisor was bound to come around and chase her off soon. “Yeah, I’ll make sure to do that.”

They all knew very well that, as always, when the building was done, it was goodbye. The chances of there being a need for repairs or remodelling - and the exact same bismuths being brought in to do them - were incredibly slim.

But pretending was nice, sometimes.

Hey, Steven, think I could get a moment before we leave? I won’t be long.

They were right where she’d left them, and the years had done very little to change them. A bit of a patina there, some dust, the tiniest bit of wear on sharper corners.

“Bismuth?” Several familiar voices cried out to her in shocked recognition.

She knew she must look a sight - battle-ready and battle-worn, but armour still gleaming, and with a bearing of one who had been through much and was always ready for more. She felt her back had never been so proud and straight, her shoulders so resolutely set.

“I think,” Bismuth grinned, “you’re gonna start seeing changes around these parts.”

---

One for that favourite Pearletariat/Pearl Solidarity fic sub-genre of mine: Clever Pearls Cleverly Getting Around Badly Worded Orders. A bit of an origin for an as-of-yet unnamed pearl OC, because I sure don’t have enough of those!

In the untold thousands of years of Homeworld and Gemkind, and the hundreds of thousands of commands given to hundreds of thousands of pearls, nobody ever thought to Order a pearl not to think. That would imply a they mattered at all, and who would ever put stock in a pearl’s thoughts? Most Gems weren’t sure pearls could think, anyway. I mean, if they could, all that standing around would be intolerable, wouldn’t it? And imagine not being able to say no to anything, even crushing your own gem - shards, at least I’m not a pearl!

They were, occasionally, when dealing with an owner’s important, private, confidential business, Ordered to forget, or, a bit less esoterically, Ordered never to tell.

And [OWNER] has always been all too eager with the Orders. As if she went to bizarre lengths in her thinking that pearl couldn’t - or wouldn’t? - do anything upon merely being told, let alone by herself. Every little thing, from sweeping up the shards of a broken decorative plate to taking down the minutes of an important meeting [OWNER] was presiding over - (im)pressed upon pearl with the crushing weight of an Order.

But she could still think.

Even when Ordered to wait by the door, freezing her limbs and anchoring her legs to the ground with all the force of a starship mooring mechanism. Even when Ordered into silence for days and planetary rotations on end because [OWNER] had wanted to read an important document without being disturbed and it simply didn’t occur to her to lift it when she was done.

In the wake of the Rebellion and the Renegade Pearl, it only gets worse, and soon enough pearl can barely remember the last time a single movement she made was voluntary.

---

SU Future-era Bismuth and Steven convo I scribbled down in between some of these recent eps - after Growing Pains in particular I think - because Bismuth is the absolute pep talk queen.

“You already said you were sorry for trying to kill me in the Forge, and really, it’s okay, it was all a misunderstanding. Besides, it’s more than a lot of people have done!”

Bismuth blinked at the pinkish sheen around Steven’s cheeks, around the downturned brows - strange trick of the light, that. “Steven, come on. Just listen to me for a minute.”

“Okay,” Steven sighed, and leaned against the railing Bismuth had fixed just that morning.

“Point is, for me, the war had never ended. It wasn’t only yesterday, it was today. It was over for everyone, it seemed, except for me. And getting over that, getting used to that, really seeing that as the truth, not living every day buzzed up with that anticipation of the next battle, just waiting for Homeworld to come down hard on us with whatever new horror they’d come up with… that took a while. And it took help.”

[sudden apparent non-sequitur but It’s An Allegory, Steven.]

“When you make a sword, you can’t make it rigid and unyielding. You can’t just temper it into toughness and hardness and make it unbreakable. It needs to have some give in order to be durable, it needs to be able to bend so as not to shatter on impact. And sure, maybe the first parry or strike wouldn’t be the one to do it, but the tenth, the hundreth, the thousandth? Any time you might just find yourself holding on to a hilt with the jagged remnants of everything, and shards scattered on the ground. And if you’re very lucky, that’ll happen during friendly sparring, not in the heat of battle.”

Steven shrugged without response, and seemed to be shrugging off all the words as well. Back to the direct approach it was, then.

“Now you, Steven,” that at least got a bit more attention, “Sure, you can brawl with the best of ‘em, and you put that gem to damn good use. You’ve got great technique drilled in, too - I’d expect nothing less from one of Pearl’s students. But that’s not how you won, in the end, is it? You never won because you were tough, or strong. You have a diamond in you but you’re not hard at all. Well, except on yourself.”

“In the end all of this was possible because you were soft. Just malleable and pliable enough when it was needed. And that takes guts.”

“Hey, I’m just saying,” Bismuth put a hand on his shoulder, and even with all the very human growing he’d done, he still seemed to almost disappear in it. “You put yourself out there for others… maybe it’s about time you let them help you.”

---

The next chapter of the His Dark Materials/Daemons AU which I am sooooo painfully late with it’s not even funny anymore. Already posted some excerpts [here] and [here].

“She’s been... away on business, but we’ve sent a zeppelin for her and she’s well on her way back. Hopefully.”

“You have a zeppelin?” Rose was rapidly failing in all her efforts to keep her voice down.

“Of a sort. We, er, we... stole it.”

“Stole-!”

“Yes, well, stole might be a strong word,” Pearl tapped a finger against her chin. “You see, there was a small decommissioned postal craft left below the southern mail station aërodock that nobody would ever miss, all I had to do was fix it up a bit and-”

Rose blinked. “You fixed a decommissioned zeppelin.”

Pearl waved a hand almost casually. “I had some help, but yes. Svalbard, understandably, is hard to reach with other means of transport, and Bismuth needed to be able to go back and forth.”

“You,” Rose began, awed, “are utterly wasted on bringing me my slippers, I’ll tell you that.”

“Well then, maybe,” Pearl blushed, but there was nothing hesitant about her smirk and the strikingly proud tilt of her head, “maybe you could take them off with a bit more care than kicking them halfway across the room and sending them off under the cabinets and- and then I wouldn’t need to do that at all. And I could fix all the zeppelins in the world.”

[more from the super secret backroom rebellion meeting]

“They’re with the Consistorial Court of Discipline, no doubt. Always on the lookout for,” Bismuth grimaced, “heretics. A lot falls under that. A lot of good excuses to snatch someone off the street and do who knows what to them. And they’ve been funneling people there, people vanished by the CCD. Not lacking in test subjects lately.”

“How did you get this? Where?” It was Sapphire, this time. Ruby seemed overwhelmed, and sat clutching her hand desperately as the tiny frog and hare both whispered something to her.

“We traced the funding for all this. It was difficult and deliberately obfuscated, but we managed. A facility like this, an entire operation, cost a pretty amount, you’d assume - and you’d be right. It had to come from somewhere. And whoever was paying for it was likely to want to know what was being done with their investment.”

“So we followed the trail. And it turned out I was… ideally positioned to… to, erm, procure what evidence there was to be found. Because, well...” Pearl trailed off, and lifted one of the stolen report sheets for all to see.

It was as clear as day, the family crest right above the astronomical amount being granted. Four diamonds, neatly arranged.

Neshu’s ears were flat against his mane, and Rose found herself wishing the ground would simply open up and swallow both her and him and the chair that she sat on and he’d tried to duck under.

Bismuth spoke up, grim, every drop of earlier exuberance gone from her. “When the Diamonds look out from the windows of their mansion, they don’t see people. They see tools, toys, and weapons. Nothing else.” She sounded more tired than angry. “It’s just what they’ve always been doing, but writ large.”

---

And then, of course, the Longass PearlRose Fixit because I hate the gag order but at the same time want it gone… slowly and organically. Alternating Rose and Pearl POVs spanning throughout the rebellion era, all sorts of flashbacks and Imagining Things included. At one point they end up attempting to essentially jailbreak Pearl, because Pearl is, as we all know, absolutely the most hardcore. Also thank you SU Movie for confirming all the awful Alexa-flavour fanon/headcanons and giving me an excuse to dive into a bunch of Gems-as-AI tropey stuff, on top of everything. [another previously posted fragment here]

“I don’t want to. I never want to do that to you again.” She stops, takes a breath, reconsiders. “And I know it’s a lot to ask of you, the trust I just… trampled over. So I want to make sure that it’s not just that, you trusting me not to make the same mistake again, with no reassurance anywhere. I—I want to not be able to. Nobody should be able to do that to you.”

“Nobody should be able to do that to anyone,” Pearl corrects readily.

“You’re right,” Rose smiles, only a bit wry, “as always. My brilliant, brilliant Pearl. What would I do without you?”

“Never get back to the point you were trying to make, I imagine,” Pearl quips with something resembling sauciness, and Rose feels at least some of the weight starting to lift off her.

“Right,” Rose agrees, chastised, and tries to focus. “I just… I’m not sure how, or what I need to do at all. It’s not like there’s much precedent – ownerless pearls are unheard of. Even when their owners get shattered, it’s only ever temporary, and, with such high demand, very brief.”

Pearl nods in agreement, and hums. “Luckily, we’ve seen plenty of unheard of and unspeakable things here.”

[echoes of Scabbard convo]

“I want to know, I want to be certain, that you’re here because you want to be.”

“So do I.” Pearl responds quietly, letting their fingers entwine.

[Giving an order not to follow orders doesn’t work, failsafes exist. Then they try a sort of ownership transfer thing, and try to make the new owner Pearl. It doesn’t register, “invalid transfer target”, even when Pearl tries to hack it - some odd gem tool that scans and pokes at her gem - she gets all bummed out because she can’t even reprogram a very basic and modifiable handheld tool/device to recognise a pearl as an actual gem and person. What chance does she have against hearts and minds and an entire ingrained culture of an entire sprawling empire?

“You changed my mind,” says Rose all softly and earnestly.

Have I really? Pearl asks herself but doesn’t let it escape out loud. Still. Step by small step, she admits to herself. Incremental, slow, but persistent work. She can do that. Even as down on herself as she is, she can do that.]

“The… the override.” Pearl breathes out suddenly.

“What?”

“The administrative override - you, or, well... Pink Diamond should be able to trigger it, even without a Rejuvenator. We shouldn’t…” Pearl looks strangely scared now, swallowing small gulps before pushing onwards, hands trembling and fingers knotting together, “w-we shouldn’t need a full reset, really, but. But we can try modifying the owner identification...”

Having to… turn into Pink again (turn back into yourself, you mean, a small voice whispers, who are you trying to fool) doesn’t sit well with her, of course, but. Get a hold of yourself, Pearl certainly has it so much worse in this scenario.

[more here about how they both need to kind of “revert” a bit to try this and it sucks, because no! unpleasant poking of holes in the elaborate fantasy! For the greater good, but still.]

And oh, Pearl looks just about ready to either cry with some strange terror Rose has never seen her display, or dissipate her form on the spot - the small dam of coldly throwing around terms like administrative override activation and owner identification variable providing just enough distance for her to carry on.

“It shouldn’t be too risky if we’re… if you’re careful.”

[Pearl trusts her with everything, her literal entire self - with this thing that is such a blatant violation of her being and her person, that she now wants to turn against itself, using one of the most humiliatingly clearly objectifying aspects of her status as an instrument of her liberation. It is all A Lot.]

Rose remembers, also, with a sting, the way she grumbled and sulked over the gaping pit of guilt in her stomach and refused to even look at the glowing, floating shell Blue was so insistently pushing her towards. She wanted her Pearl back, not whatever White and the others had decided to foist upon her now. Not a pale replacement, nothing they deemed suitable.

“Please state preferred customisation options.”

“Come on, Pink,” Blue urges, softly but mercilessly as ever, large hands enveloping Pink almost whole from where they’re planted on her shoulders, “White had her specially made, just for you! And we helped as well - only the best for our Pink. Now it’s up to you to put your finishing touches, as is proper-”

“What for? You’ll just take her away when you feel like it anyway,” she grumbles into her arms, curling up on the floor and resolutely refusing to look even as the glow spreads from the corner of her eye, insistent.

Just as insistent as the awfully familiar little voice. “Please state preferred customisation options.”

“I. Don’t. Care!” But now with a newly noticeable, if strained restraint - not, like her usual, punctuated with a slam of her fist on the floor tiles, perfectly shiny and pink. No, she couldn’t- do something like that again-

“Default setting selected. Please stand by.”

Yellow scoffs and moves to leave. “Come on, Blue. No point to us wasting our time being here if she’s just going to throw one of her tantrums.”

But Blue refuses to leave it at that, and makes sure to cut with parting words, before slinking through the large pink doorway. “I am very disappointed in you, Pink. To act like that, and with White personally making sure you got such a lovely gift even after everything...”

“Waste of good nacre, if you ask me,” Yellow muses from somewhere up above. “At least try not to break this one.”

The glow intensifies with a hum, and Pink screws her eyes shut and pretends not to see or hear anything.

By the time she opens them again, the others are gone.

But then there is another presence at her side, hovering just behind, as is proper court protocol. The shuffling of tiny, soft slippers on the polished stone - weren’t pearls supposed to be endlessly, effortlessly quiet?

“Leave me alone,” she preempts quietly. The shuffling moves away.

“Please identify yourself.”

Calmly, now, calmly but firmly, just like we planned it. Don’t mess this up now. She’s counting on you. She trusts you. “Pearl.”

“Please state preferred customisation options.”

They’ve discussed this too, of course - extensive (over)preparation and planning down to minutiae is Pearl’s go-to at the best of times, and something she clutches at for comfort at the worst of times. And she’s always, to a sometimes comical extent, despised that ridiculous dress. To a wonderful extent, too, all things considered.

“Revert to last implemented appearance.”

“Settings selected. Please stand by.”

[Of course this doesn’t work because all it does is change the $username$ variable, not the actual identity of the person imprinted: it’s still Rose/Pink, she’s just nicknamed “Pearl” now, but she can still give orders and everything.]

[evolves into Pearl literally hacking herself… the most hardcore of modders]

---

Pearl Playing the Field aka “why not hyper-analyze that one brief shot of the notes and phone numbers in Pearl’s gem and write 9 meet-cutes”. Pearl goes out to “find herself”. Whatever that is supposed to mean. Supposed to be set pre-ASPR, but also extends past it. Ended up with some Bispearl in it too because I am predictable and can absolutely not help myself.

“Your hair is wonderful!” She feels like she almost has to shout to be heard over the din of the bar’s ill-chosen soundtrack, and she doesn’t appreciate it. Definitely not one of her favourite places she’s decided to visit recently. And the ventilation is atrocious.

But still, she’s come all this way, so she may as well make the best of it. And while the preoccupation with hairstyles during first meetings seems like a bit of an odd running theme (can it really be termed a running theme, though, if it’s happened all of two times?), it’s certainly worked in the past (recent, very recent, and hardly bursting with relevant instances, Pearl!). Oh, and this particular one is just too fascinating. Approaching a work of art, Pearl would dare say. Especially, well. Especially when paired with the lovely eyes and striking jawline and strong neck it seems to deliberately be drawing attention to.

Pearl leans on the bar, in the bit of space the woman happily makes for her, and tries to look confident and well-informed, but not smug, no, never smug. “I know... about the, uh, goop, of course. I know how one accomplishes this.”

The woman gives a bemused smile. “Thanks! Not too shabby yourself.” She leans in closer. “I'm actually in school for it.”

“School?” Pearl casts desperately back to what she's heard from Steven and Greg's often hasty instruction. That was for educating human children, wasn't it? She'd put one together for Steven that one time, with desks and a blackboard… and Connie attended one regularly...

“Yeah, kind of a late game career change.” Pearl nods along as she realises - or, rather, remembers - she is absolutely terrible at gauging human ages. “But I thought... after almost 30 years in accounting and not going anywhere I wanted to be going... it’s not like we have all the time in the world, right? So I figured, why not? Go for something I'm actually invested in and that I've always wanted to do, y'know?”

“Oh. Oh yes, yes I do.” And for once, she really does. Well, not the time-related bit, perhaps, but the very particular delight of getting to pursue one’s genuine interests after a long while of being denied? Absolutely. “I’ve done something of the sort myself, actually. Go for it! As they, uh, say.”

The dramatic gesture of almost punching the air with a closed triumphant/defiant fist might have been a tad over the top, but it wins her a smile that doesn’t seem unkind. The woman winks and tips her glass at Pearl, then finishes her drink - something sweet-smelling and almost as colourful as her hair.

“I had a classmate do this one for me, and I did hers after.” Pearl is nodding along again, leaning in to hear better as the woman’s voice dips lower. “I kind of like to experiment, push the limits, go wild with it. Hey. You interested? Promise I won’t go too wild on you.”

Pearl's mind goes blank there for a moment. The woman is… very close, and there are unignorable implications unrelated to hair styling so obvious here even she is picking up on them without issue, and the music hasn’t gotten any quieter. Interested in what, exactly, she wants to ask, but she came here for wild new experiences and exciting novelty, didn’t she, so instead comes out with a rather strangled-sounding: “Eughhhhh...uhhh.... Ye...s?”

The woman’s expression goes serious. “Hey, come on, we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

---

Forge Showdown AU - aka in a twist of fate Bismuth poofs Rose during their confrontation and revelations happen that change the course of… well, pretty much everything - one of a bunch of AUs where the PD reveal happens earlier and under different circumstances (I had an idea of doing a 5+1 of those at one point).

The glow of the lava coloured the quickly dissipating smoke more orange-red than pale pink, and Bismuth stared numbly at where their revered leader, Rose Quartz herself, had been standing mere moments ago. She’d lashed out, true, but she hadn’t really been expecting the clumsy blow - more of a warning, or underlining a point in their continued argument-turned-fight - to land. In all their many sparring sessions, Rose had never succumbed to something like that, would have never so much as let it brush against her. But she’d been- frozen, distracted… by what?

There, scraping softly against the ground as it rolled with leftover momentum...

That was not a rose quartz gem.

Bismuth raked her mind feverishly, thought back through the last few, oddly blurred seconds.

“We’re not using this, Bismuth! It’d make us just as bad as them!”

“No! You’re the one who’s as bad as them- look at you, lording over all of us, thinking it’s your right to command me, order me around, like you’re, what, my diamond?”

It… it had to be some kind of imposter, or spy. Right? Some kind of… awful Homeworld plan, trying to tear the Rebellion apart from the inside. Where was Rose, then? The real one? Captured? Being interrogated somewhere, her whereabouts kept strictly secret to minimise the chance of rescue? Shattered? Impossible, they’d never hear the end of the victorious crowing.

When could it have happened? The last few battles and meetings had been nothing out of the ordinary, and Bismuth couldn’t think of anything odd or off about Rose recently at all. Not a single hint or sign that anything was amiss. Not a single misstep. Homeworld would have trained and conditioned its agents well, but Rose- Rose was singular, and utterly one-of-a-kind, and how could they possibly capture all of it so perfectly-

Bismuth startled out of her thoughts as the beginnings of light seemed to gather in the core of the gem, and all but threw herself onto it, encasing it in a bubble.

Rose was rather special, wasn’t she? And not just in what she said or what she did or how she behaved or what she led and encouraged them to do, but…

Her endless array of wondrous powers. Her sheer strength, overpowering ruby fusions and quartz battalions alike almost single-handedly. The healing which Bismuth herself had been on the receiving, lifesaving end of countless times. The way she called upon the organic creatures of the planet to fight for her, fighting in their name. And then, her regular absences. The way she seemed to know exactly what the Homeworld troops were up to - that wasn’t just some kind of tactical brilliance.

She dared to look at the gem again. Its hue was changed some by the bubble, but that was still in no way a rose quartz gem. No, it was an altogether different shape, but a terrifyingly familiar one.

But it made no sense!

Bismuth ran a slightly trembling hand down her face.

Pearl. Of course, Pearl would have to know, if anyone. About… whatever this was.

But if this, if she was… her, then Pearl-

Bismuth’s insides twisted in horrible ways as the implications began to flitter through her mind, each one worse than the one before it. There was the old call-and-response ringing in her ears, making her feel disoriented and sick with what had to be the beginnings of anger, could grow into a great fury, leaving her unnecessary breaths ragged: Who do you belong to? Nobody!

But-

Not Pearl, then. At least, not at first. Garnet. Garnet would know, and Garnet could See. They’d get to the bottom of this.

---

A metric ton of rebellion era ficlets, vignettes from my eeeEEeeEEeeEEE Bismuth collection mostly, which I’ve been accumulating since 2016 and have only posted some - Pearl, Rose, Garnet, Bismuth centric, occasionally with my takes on namedropped characters, some of which would now need an update to match actual canon.

Snowflake was there, held in Garnet’s arms. The familiar pattern of white speckles on black skin, the tight silver coils of hair sticking out every which way.

“We got her back. She wanted to see you.”

“Me? And you just listened to her? Are you out of your mind? How can I help? Have you taken her to Rose? If her gem- if she-”

“I’m right here!” Snowflake struggled out of Garnet’s hold, and stood up - wobbly, barely upright, but determined, on those legs that ran circles around Homeworld, and ran interference and messages faster than any Wailing Stone, in a pinch. “And I’m fine!”

“You don’t look fine, Snowy- listen, please just-”

Snowflake walked up to her, not stumbling a single time, and, gritting her teeth, looked right at her. The hairline fractures in her gem were visible from here, and Bismuth couldn’t help a wince. “Snowflake, come on-”

“I didn’t tell them anything.”

Bismuth wanted to clutch her to her chest and scream a thousand things at her, but You don’t have to prove anything to me and I’m proud of you and I’m going to make them pay for ever laying a finger on you all waged a war in her throat.

In the end she just settled on holding her close, very gently, until Garnet left, unheard, and came back with Rose, tears already in abundance.

[Later:] “I never properly thanked you, Garnet. For bringing Snowflake back.”

Garnet shrugged. “It was a group effort.”

A familiar voice sounded at the entrance to the Forge. “Now come along, it’s just here. Bismuth? Do you have a moment?”

“You know I always have time for you, Pearl,” she called back, putting her current project away. “What did you nee- oh.”

Bismuth blinked.

“Uh... wow,” was the only thing she could manage as pearl after pearl filed into her Forge, soon taking up most of the space around the anvil in impressively neat rows. “New recruits? A whole bunch of you, too.”

“Yes, well,” Pearl made her way to the front of the group, carefully avoiding brushing against the others on her way. She was fidgeting again, long fingers tangling and untangling rapidly, and that was one sure sign of mounting distress. “Garnet and I had planned out an attack on one of Blue Diamond’s supply lines. There was supposed to be a shipment of weapons coming in today, but it turns out it was… pearls.”

There was something rather off about Pearl’s tone, too. Bismuth made a note to ask later, and do her best to catch her alone.

“Well, all the better for us. Nice to have you all on board.” Her jovial tone was only slightly forced - the pearls all looked like they clearly needed something resembling friendliness, but their skittishness was palpable. She turned towards a pale green pearl right at the front of the group. “Now, what do I call you?”

There was nothing but mild confusion, vague fear, and general quiet shuffling. “No ideas yet? Don’t worry about it! There’s plenty of time to decide and find something that fits.”

[she does indeed manage to talk to Pearl alone, later]

“What’s the real problem, Pearl? You can’t fool me. I can tell something’s wrong.”

The rather flimsy front finally crumbled at that.

“I just… we- we took out the citrines they’d sent with the shuttle, and Garnet boosted me up so I could force the hatch open and I did, but then...” Pearl let out a distressed little half-sigh half-sob, one hand gesturing weakly. “They were all looking at me so wide-eyed and...”

She took a moment to at least attempt to collect herself.

“I don’t mind having them here, it’s not that at all. It’s just that… we were standing there, with all these newly-made pearls and… obviously I couldn’t just leave them there, in the middle of nowhere! And after what we did, whoever found them, they’d just have them shattered. Because of me. They were compromised. You’ve heard what they do now, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard. They’re the monsters, Pearl, and it’s not on you. It’s not you doing that to pearls, it’s them.”

“But it is on me! It quite literally is because of me, because of what I did, and continue to do. I made myself visible and played at being important and look what it got us,” Pearl was near tears, a frustrated blue colouring her face, “a handful of runaways and the rest being treated worse than ever.”

The tears were out in full force after that, and Bismuth put an arm around Pearl’s shaking shoulders. “Hey, hey, none of that.”

“We ended up taking them with us, but it feels like… it feels like I forced them to come here. Is it really any better than what Homeworld does? All I did was say you’re going to be rebels instead of you’re going to serve and they never got a say in anything.”

“Have you asked them?”

“They don’t know what-”

“Hey. Just ask them, okay? Ask them what they want. We can help them either way. Of course I’d love them to stay. But it’s not up to me, and if they want to go to wherever it was they were supposed to go- we can do that, too.”

[Rose discovers her healing tears in a dramatic fashion - they come up with the idea to make the fountain - and thanks to Save the Light we have a pretty good idea of who lovingly made all those statues]

She gently wiped away some of the chiselling dust with the flat of her thumb, just like a tear. A magnificent, healing, life-giving tear.

This was familiar work. But with none of the endless chafing, none of the hated reminders of her former station - Bismuth couldn’t find anything in herself but reverence. And… inspiration. She was a Gem, stars knew she didn’t need rest, breaks, anything of the sort, but still - this pace wasn’t something she’d felt driven to in a long, long while. All day under the burning summer sun, and every night under the light of her own gem. All alone, as the sanctuary took form under her hands.

To get the curls just right, tiny detail by tiny detail, somehow communicate the softness of those cheeks in stone… it took drawing upon the very depths of her well of skill, because how else could she ever hope to capture the likeness of someone as extraordinary as Rose Quartz?

With small, careful movements, she formed the roundness of the lips that could spit fiery words of rebellion, inspire like no other, scowl fiercely in the heat of battle, smile contagiously, bellow out an outrageous fireside guffaw, murmur comforts so softly, kiss…

And then she did it again, and again, and again.

[in the end, Rose is presented with a veritable shrine to herself]

“Rose? Is something wrong? You… don’t like it?”

“No, no, Bismuth, it’s… it’s incredible.” The smile Rose turned on her was as beautiful as anything, but it wasn’t hard to notice it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

#steven universe #oathkeeper writes things #INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO:#pearl #bismuth #rose quartz #bispearl #pearlrose #daemon au #the pearletariat #pearl playing the field #those stars of brightest magnitude #let's get down to bismuth #steven universe future #i love pearls just... bury me in a big pile of pearls honestly #endless wip pile #fanfiction #my fic

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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paradise-of-guilty-pleasures · 4 years

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Shattered Reflections {22}

[Helsa RP- Fanfic]

Fandom: Frozen

Genre: Post-Frozen/ Canon Divergence

- Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Romance

Pairing(s): Hans/Elsa, Kristoff/Anna

Previous Chapter:21. Nonchalant

A/N:

Direct continuation of the previous chapter. I'm really bad at updating I had this done since I posted the last chapter, but just kept pushing off the update. I have two other chapters. IDK how soon I should post them, cause I don't want to spam them.

22. Waltz of the Snowflakes

Elsa was appeased knowing that in the future, even if Hans didn't continue to stay in the castle, he would still want to put down roots somewhere nearby, remaining somewhere between the castle and the sea. Not straying far from her, staying at her beck and call. The idea eased more than her mind, it really seemed to warm her heart as well.

Her heart had been feeling a little lighter that night. It was a strange sensation to have it be constantly aflutter. She didn't quite fathom why the feeling seemed to be lingering longer than it usually did. Though she just thought it was more peculiar than particularly unpleasant. Her heart's flutter was not the most abnormal thing she was presently experiencing either. Stranger still was the sudden surge in her magic, that desperately wanted to break free. A tingling extruded from her extremities, yet the unexpected swirling of magic within her didn't feel like any of the normal outburst that often occurred when she got anxious. This burst of power was somewhat different, it seemed more euphoric, if she had to make a comparison she'd consider it to be closer to the feeling of when she let it go for the first time in forever, more than anything else. The abrupt sensation scouring through her body puzzled her a bit because she didn't understand why now? Most of the time her powers started acting up was when she felt more negative emotions, currently she was feeling quite the contrary, in fact she was rather content, but she didn't think that alone would warrant her powers to swell inside her.

Elsa had a soft smile on her face. She had been curiously looking down at her hands.

"Yeah, I-Oh?" she began to respond, but she suddenly stopped when she spotted a snowflake slowly drift by her nose. Elsa looked up and saw that a small flurry had formed above her which was starting to softly drop snowflakes around her. This was new. "That's...strange. What is going on?'' She commented pointing up a bit stunned at what was occurring, being surprised by her own powers was something that didn't happen quite often. Her icy blues were opened wide, transfixed on the abnormal snowfall. "I have absolutely no idea why my powers decided to be unruly right now."

Hans grimaced a little at the thought.

"Should I be worried, your Majesty? I seem to recall the last time they got unruly was a rather painful experience for all of us." He laughed a little nervously and shifted somewhat uncomfortably to give her space. Not because he was afraid of her, but because he was reminded that she should be afraid of him.

"Hm? No, I don't think so, it's nothing that drastic," she assured, she flicked her wrist and the flurry vanished. "I think I have it under control."

Elsa turned facing towards the window and began to test her control over her powers. She quickly conjured a variety of forms which she quickly transfigured. She began the release of her pent-up magic with a snowman much like Olaf which collapsed and reconfigured to a horse, followed by a replica of her Ice Castle that then turned in on of the Arendelle Castle. After seeing enough of her perfect precision over her magic she let it dematerialized.

She hummed in confusion. "That was rather odd, I know my powers sometimes seep out when I feel anxious, but the thing is I didn't think I was feeling that way at all, also it usually tends to be ice not snow." Elsa was perplexed, she pressed her lips. She might have thought it wasn't due fatigue but she didn't think that was the case either. She really was clueless.

"Hmm, ice for danger, snow for... something else? Something lighter?" Hans proposed, perplexed and intrigued as he leaned back to watch her work upside-down. He grunted a little and righted himself when she was done, finding he couldn't process anything upside-down, anyway. He seized upon a strange idea, and pushed himself to his feet. In spite of his drinking earlier, he seemed perfectly steady. He'd had some time to process the alcohol, after all. He offered her his hand.

"Perhaps it only makes sense to women who've known me in more pleasant circumstances, but I've just realized we've known each-other for a rather long time now, and I'm not certain I've ever asked you for a dance. That's not very like me." He mused. He wondered if that would change the ice as well. He wasn't sure what he thought he was doing, but somewhere deep down, it felt like that made sense. Dancing would illuminate things. He often liked to dance and think at the same time.

Elsa thought Hans' hypothesis about the snow seemed rather reasonable, but she wondered why something similar hasn't occurred sooner. Dance? The invitation caught her off guard, bringing out a blush on her cheeks yet again. She gawked at him, from his offered hand to his contemplative face. Elsa couldn't determine whether his proposition or the snow were the far stranger between the two. Though she decided she'd take his suggestion as part of the tipsy foolishness he'd warned her about earlier.

"Um, you have not," she responded. "Though I'm uncertain what that has to do with anything," she started in confusion, yet her own hand already seemed to be hesitantly dancing to determine whether or not she should take his hand. "Also I'm not much of a dancer, I'm certain I'm quite bungling at it."

"Not a thing." He assured sweetly. "Unless it does and I don't know. You don't have to be good, I like a simple box-step. Trust me to lead and you'll do fine." He assured, never wavering in his offer. "I'm in the habit of dancing often. There were always maids around to dance with at home, so it was a good way to pass the time, hold a conversation, pretend everything was alright." He assured, at least he admitted the truth; it was pretending.

Elsa teetered a bit more, she paused, looking him over one more time, intently gazing into his eyes for a long moment.

"Alright," she said softly as she gently grasped his warm hand with her own. Elsa figured dancing was something a bit more formal anyway, an activity royals partook in often, even if she herself wasn't one of them. Besides, they had certainly already been a lot more intimate than that before, so taking up on his offer couldn't possibly hurt, could it? He was also her friend now, surely that's something they do together. Regardless of all the logical reasoning (or excuses as others may prefer to see them) the reality was that a part of her strongly wanted to feel his ever emanating warmth against her skin once again.

Hans smiled a little to himself and positioned their arms as he walked her out a little ways from the bed. Just as well that it was simple, he was still injured and couldn't exactly do a whole lot of activity. He hummed a tune with the appropriate rhythm and held her close while he led, starting slow for her and picking up to match the music as she got the pattern.

"There we are. An easy box-step." He sounded pleased with that, continuing at the same pace, as constant and inevitable as the tide.

Elsa did struggle a bit at first, stumbling and not perfectly matching the pattern, but with Hans taking the lead and his gentle guidance she seemed to be getting the hang of it fairly quickly. She had been pretty preoccupied at first trying to focus all her attention on her feet, but now she had gotten more control over her motor skills and could actually look at him.

"I do beg your pardon if I step on your toes too hard, but I do think I'm finding my footing."

"Oh, you're not the first person I've guided through the steps, and you've had a little more practice than some of the maids." He assured her, not minding at all. "I'm a tough young man, I can handle being trodden on once or twice." He joked, carrying on the pace without worry, and just enjoying the rhythm of the movement. It wasn't often that he shared something from home that wasn't angry or depressing. It was just a nice thing he held onto and brought wherever he went. An odd habit he enjoyed. A simple box-step for no good reason other than that it was enjoyable.

"Only a bit of practice, not much though, definitely not the adequate amount that a Queen should know. Certainly ill-prepared for any royal social gathering. Luckily I don't have to partake in those if I don't desire," she assured. "Hopefully you don't get trodden thrice I'm afraid to find out what happens then," she joked back with a giggle.

Their dancing had made yet another bittersweet memory re-emerge, it was her dancing with her father when she was a little girl, stepping on his toes being half his size. Happy memories with her parents were so few and far between she often wondered if they had just been lovely dreams she made up in her solitude.

"Everyone misses a few things they ought to know, there's not enough time in one's youth to get all that information at once." Hans assured, with unusual amounts of forgiveness for himself. He said it as if to brush away her anxieties and shield her from them. "At any rate, you're doing a lovely job. You've got the grace to dance, just not the training. Never mind it, it will come." He assured her, though confident for no particular reason except to make her feel better.

"That's for certain, might as well learn how to do some of that stuff now," Elsa smiled. "Thank you, probably wouldn't be as lovely without an excellent instructor." She complimented. Elsa thought the two of them just dancing for no particular reason was rather nice. Just being in each other's company always felt right, more so when they shared pleasant moments (which unexpectedly involved much warmth and caresses exchanged between an Ice Queen and a quondam Prince).

"It's surprising, I must've danced with half the girls in the Isles by now, just by fact of how many maids we hire. But I don't tell everybody I play the harp. Funny how one can get things out of order, going to a new place." He observed, smiling slightly as he danced with her. He hummed again, a slow, perhaps even romantic song. It had to be slow, starting to learn, every song felt much faster, but that didn't ease the romantic tension any. Romantic tension that Hans didn't seem to mind, if he noticed it. "Hmm. Is that so? I guess that makes me part of the lucky few. You know I'd still very much love to hear you play for me, and there's a harp waiting to be used in the music room, most likely untuned, but it's there," she reminded him warmly. "But perhaps not right now, but someday soon would be nice," she encouraged with a sweet smile and softness in her eyes.

"Certainly, I'd love to play for you. Any time you and I are both in, perhaps a tea time, if you're not occupied elsewhere." He proposed lightly. 'elsewhere' being Anna, no doubt. "I suppose it's only fair, I'm one of the lucky few who has seen you with your hair down, I've no doubt." He glanced to her hair, with something all too fond in his eyes. Perhaps it was good that his hands were occupied with the form of the dance, else he might have tried to touch it. That surely would have been... bad?

"Of course, tea time might actually be the most opportune time to have a rendezvous, I'm seldom occupied during tea time, I usually spend them alone in the library, so I would definitely enjoy it if you joined me and spend one together," she eagerly assured him. Elsa became a bit more bashful with his observation of her hair, especially with the way he looked at her with his green gleaming eyes. She slightly averted her face from meeting his gaze directly, bringing one of her crimsoning cheeks near her shoulder, yet a smile stayed on her face. Suddenly, another soft sprinkling of snowflakes started to surround, not just Elsa, but the both of them.

Hans couldn't help but smile a little at the snowflakes. "I thought a dance might draw a little flurry out of you." He hummed. But he wasn't sure yet what they meant. Just that they were a good thing. "That, or I'm very wrong and it's a sign you're coming down with a... cold." He giggled a little at the pun he only realized was there as he was telling it. "Oh there's snow way to talk to me without puns eventually, I'm afraid." He had been spending time with Kristoff and Olaf. If anything he now had more horrible puns.

Elsa was still bemused by the snowflakes produced by her unpredictable powers. She looked at them with wonder trying to make sense of what they meant, but still had no clue besides recognizing that it was somehow linked to her current bliss.

She laughed a little at his pun. "Oh, I don't get colds and even if I did I think you'd snow." She thought it was rather silly, but that didn't stop her from trying.

Hans laughed a little more at her returned pun. He looked different when he smiled with his eyes, hints of crow's feet that showed only in the rare event that he was genuinely that happy.

"Should we stop, or should I go for 'Icy what you did there'?" He teased. "Ah, it's late, isn't it? Or perhaps early, by now? Should I stop distracting you before bed?" Yet they still danced. He seemed to dance by habit, hardly noticing he was doing it.

"It would indeed be wise to get some rest before daybreak,"she said softly, yet was reluctant to let go, not knowing when they'd be able to share another warm moment like this again.

Hans slowed the dance all the same.

"Another dance another time?" He proposed gently. "I can see I still have some healing to do before I take on the guard training full time. I'll have a little time." He suggested. He smiled a little to himself, perhaps realizing how that sounded. Almost as if he would be going away to war, though it was truthfully not far a walk from the castle doors to the guard's barracks. But, he knew she was a busy woman.

"Perhaps," she smiled. "This has been rather nice and I could also really use the practice." And there it was again, adding some other justification, she just couldn't seem to allow herself to admit that she wanted to do it solely for her own pleasure.

Even though Hans wasn't going too far once he healed, she still wanted to cherish and indulge herself with more of these warming moments. She wanted to enjoy this freedom of spending time together, since it wasn't going to last forever.

He nodded, and finally let her go, if slowly. He was as reluctant for her to leave as she was.

"I shall see you when you next want my presence, I suppose." He hummed, but he said it with a little smile. He liked it when she visited. She had asked herself if she was treating him like a bird in a cage to sing for her-- but she had never thought about whether he liked to be her songbird.

The snowflakes ceased, yet she hadn't been paying so much attention to them anymore.

"I suppose so," She affirmed, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, with her now free hand. "I guess, I'll see me, wait no, I meant you, ah anyway, I'll see you fairly soon then." Elsa assured with a slight stumble with her words, similar to how she'd done earlier with her feet. "Possibly tomorrow if I'm able." Of course, she was talking about finding time rather than asking permission. She had already been keeping her promise (to the best of her ability) of coming to visit him, if only for a short amount of time. So there was no doubt she'd be back, but she liked to reassure him anyway.

Hans nodded, looking hopeful and encouraged about it.

As soon as Elsa left, he returned to the bed, to sleep almost instantly. He'd had quite a busy day, after all. But he would sleep comfortable, thinking of all the positive things-- but especially of the snow.

Elsa had gone to sleep much later than she intended, she laid in bed, her mind lost in contemplation. You'd think sleep would come easy after such a lovely evening with both Anna and Hans, and perhaps it would have if something else wasn't tormenting her thoughts.

What kept her mind restless was the mystery surrounding why her magic had been acting up that night. It had only caused her powers to amplify and an involuntary snowfall, two things that weren't at all bad, just unexpected.

It had also been a different sensation than prior times her magic had been rowdy and that was a bit disconcerting. Something like that had never happened to her before, even blissfully being with Anna, which she believed bore the closest resemblance to what she felt with Hans. Yet with Anna she only felt a warmth that flowed from her heart, a melting sensation, but in a good way. That was not at all what had happened with Hans, she did feel something strange in her heart, but it wasn’t quite the same.

So that brought up the pressing question: Did the new outburst have something special to do with Hans? If so, what was so different? Why did it only happen with Hans and not with Anna too? She started thinking about what made her powers tick, she knew that both fear and love were catalysts that amplified her magic, she hadn't been feeling the former so that only left the latter. Love. Could love really be involved in what caused the outburst? She was certainly fond of Hans, there was no doubt about that, he was her friend now, but could it be she felt something more than amiable affinity? Could she maybe really...no, that'd be silly. Elsa brushed that thought away, perhaps she was overthinking things again, like she tended to. Whatever caused the occurrence Elsa decided it was best not to continue worrying about it that night and instead get some much needed rest.

#Helsa #Iceburns #Hans x Elsa #frozen #Fanfiction #Frozen Fanfiction #Fanfic #Shattered Reflections

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tickleficcatalogue · 5 years

Text

Marvel: The Avengers Masterpost

A-Fluffer-Nutter

Non-Serious: Strange proves to Tony that he can be non-serious. Ticklish!Tony

Not Marijuana: Peter Realizes that MJ’s name is definitely slang for weed. Ticklish!Peter

Passion: Wanda takes the time to explain to Vision what ticklishness is. Ticklish!Wanda

Never Stop Being Awesome: Peter is feeling down so the reader comes over to cheer him up. Ticklish!Peter

Belly Rubs: A grouchy T’Challa receives a ‘belly rub’ from Tony. Ticklish!T’Challa

Home: Reader is Loki and Thor’s sister, sibling banter and teasing ensues. Ticklish!Thor

A Horrible Trade: Reader is Loki and Thor’s sister and decides to steal Thor’s cape. Ticklish!Thor

Good Night Kiss: Loki and Thor attempt to convince reader!sister to let them give her a goodnight kiss, they are her older brothers after all. Ticklish!Reader

Titanium: Reader is Thor and Loki’s sister and the God of fear. After a battle, tickly events ensue. Ticklish!Reader, Ticklish!Thor, Ticklish!Loki

Captain, Captain, Cat: Reader and Tony dress up as Cap for Halloween, Steve goes as a cat who’s gives particularly good belly rubs. Ticklish!Tony, Ticklish!Reader

Web: Reader decides to count Peter’s freckles. Ticklish!Peter

Becky and Sad: Sam buys Bucky a birthday cake that happens to have an embarrassing misspelling on it. Ticklish!Sam

Only Monster That Matters: Wade helps out a touch-starved Peter. Ticklish!Peter

The Perfect Outfit: Tony buys T’Challa a cat onsie, and of course there needs to be photo evidence. Ticklish!Tony

No More Twister: Peter is showing off during twister, so Ned and MJ take it upon themselves to humble him. Ticklish!Peter

The One Thing All Gods Fear: Reader is Thor and Loki’s sister, more sibling shenanigans. Ticklish!Reader, Ticklish!Thor, Ticklish!Loki

When It’s Christmas: Tony hates Christmas, so Pepper decides to cheer him up a little. Ticklish!Tony

Completely Human: Reader is Steve’s sister, Steve and Tony decide to help the reader with her tiredness the morning after she goes on a mission with Peter. Ticklish!Reader

I Hear Music: Reader is Steve’s sister, sibling shenanigans and tickling ensue with the help of one Tony Stark. Ticklish!Reader, Ticklish!Steve, Ticklish!Tony

Two Hours and Twenty-Seven Minutes: Reader is Steve’s sister and is having some existential/suicidal thoughts, Steve takes her mind off of her immortality and lightens the mood. Ticklish!Reader

Happy Birthday: Reader is Steve’s sister, after a tough battle the Avengers help her celebrate her birthday. Ticklish!Reader

Both Of Us: Reader is Steve’s sister and breaks Tony’s TV, a chase ensues. Ticklish!Reader

A-Simple-Lee

New Friends, Old Memories: Peter lets slip that he’s ticklish. Steve and Bucky take the opportunity to mess around like old times, only Steve’s no longer the one on the receiving end. Ticklish!Peter

Offshooting: Peter claims you’re ticklish, and you’re in denial. Tony steps in to help clear things up (also featuring Thor and Steve). Ticklish!Reader

Theft: You have no idea why you decided to run off with Bucky’s metal arm. Neither does he. You also have no idea how to outrun him. Chaos ensues. Ticklish!Reader

Impulse: You’re in a massive ‘Lee mood, and Peter sees you trying to tickle yourself. Things go marginally less awkwardly than expected. In which you and Peter are best friends. Ticklish!Reader

Weekend Disroutine: Peter is exhausted, sleep deprived, and in denial of both of these things. A few of the Avengers decide to help him out (also featuring Tony, Clint, Bucky, and Steve). Ticklish!Peter

Ammunition: Tony keeps trying to make conversation whilst you pack up after a lab session, and you don’t know how to answer his questions (also featuring Bruce and Peter). Ticklish!Reader

Sunset: Thor keeps trying to calm Bruce down, until Bruce realises maybe Thor’s not trying to. Ticklish!Thor

Lego: Peter finds out you like being tickled. Ticklish!Reader

Challenge: Steve puts up with a lot as one of your best friends, but you wish he could put up with you trying to ambush him without immediately turning the tables. Ticklish!Reader

The Winter Jogger: Bucky swings by your apartment after a morning exercise session with Steve, but the Winter weather and his prosthetic make for a rather chaotic visit. Ticklish!Reader

“It’s three in the morning”: You’re staying at the Avengers HQ with Peter, and wake up to grab some coffee. But it seems you might’ve woken him up. Early morning chats and lots of fluff ensues. Ticklish!Reader

“You have five seconds to run”: Tony and Peter are working in the lab, which is always a recipe for disaster. Ticklish!Peter

“Are you Scared?”: Cloaks stir up all kinds of trouble, especially according to Tony. Ticklish!Tony

“I can’t believe I just did that”: Things are pretty dull on the Asgardian battleship, so Thor turns to his friends for entertainment. Ticklish!Bruce

“Was that a giggle?”: Ned finds Peter’s new spiderman suit amazing; but it’s hard for Peter to appreciate it when Ned keeps poking him whilst he wears it. Ticklish!Peter

“No, not there! Anywhere but there!”: In which Peter makes one too many science jokes in the lab with Tony, and Tony decides to investigate something he’s overheard. Ticklish!Peter

“I’ve never been more embarrassed in my entire life”: Tony decides his sparring session with Peter needs a little mischief, and Peter decides sparring was a mistake (also featuring Strange). Ticklish!Peter

Boundaries: Steve finds out you’re ticklish, and your attempts to dissuade him from tickling you are failing rather miserably. Ticklish!Reader

Bittersweet: In which Peter tickles the reader half to death and they ponder whether this betrayal can be forgiven. Ticklish!Reader

Class Project: No one’s too old to play pretend, right? The answer is yes. You, Peter, and MJ don’t know this, though. Ticklish!Peter, Ticklish!MJ, Ticklish!Peter

Sleepover: A simple disagreement at Peter’s apartment escalates into a rather one-sided tickle fight, which results in some unexpected discoveries for both you and Peter. Ticklish!Peter

Summer Sledding: Peter, Morgan, and Pepper are over for the afternoon. Scott just so happens to be making up for some lost childhood time with Cassie via reconstructing an old classic. Ticklish!Peter

Amazingmsme

The Spider’s Out Of The Bag: Peter’s been pushing himself in every aspect of his life, and he looks like he’s gonna collapse out of exhaustion. While giving Peter a needed massage, Ned finds a way to convince his friend to get some rest. Ticklish!Peter

A Bit Of Trouble: Bucky’s arm is malfunctioning, and it’s causing him to rip off all the doors in the tower. So obviously, Tony offers to help fix it. Ticklish!Bucky

God Of Static: Thor teases Bruce with the power of electricity. Ticklish!Bruce

Swatting More Than Flies: Sam and Bucky get Peter a fly swatter as a gag gift. Ticklish!Peter

The Way Things Were: Steve and Tony reminisce. Ticklish!Tony

Twinsies: Pietro wants Wanda to admit that he’s the best. Ticklish!Wanda

What’s The Matter Kid?: Tony spends some time with Harley. Ticklish!Harley

Time To Go: T’Challa is stubborn, Tony has a cure for that. Ticklish!T’Challa

Not Touching: Sam won’t move his seat up so Bucky establishes that he is definitely not touching Sam. Ticklish!Bucky

Musical Bros: Natasha and Tony share a love of musicals, Steve finds out. Ticklish!Natasha, Ticklish!Tony

CalmTurquoise

Forts and Snowball Fights: Winter time fun means snow forts and snowball fights, fluff, and tickle fights! Ticklish!Tony, Ticklish!Steve

Fun: It’s Bruce’s birthday. The Avengers just want him to have fun. Ticklish!Bruce

Never Have I Ever: The Avengers play a game of Never Have I Ever together and discover that Tony is very ticklish. They take advantage of this fact. In a fun way. Ticklish!Tony

Science and Laughter: A few times when Tony tickles Bruce in the lab, and one time that Bruce tickles Tony. Ticklish!Bruce, Ticklish!Tony

Secret Sketches: Tony convinces Steve to show off his art. Ticklish!Steve

Sun and Sand: Steve and Tony go to the beach. Ticklish!Steve, Ticklish!Tony

Technical Difficulties: Tony’s having a wee bit of trouble with his phone… being a good friend and lab partner, Bruce decides to distract him. Ticklish!Tony

Too Much Stress: High School AU. When Steve is stressed about exam results, his friends decide to ‘distract’ him. Ticklish!Steve

Иногда Yмный: Tony is sometimes smart. Ticklish!Tony, Ticklish!Bruce

Cas-Kingdom

When You Wish Upon A Star: Peter won’t get out of bed. Enter Tony Stark. Ticklish!Peter

Normal: Being the sister of the world’s greatest hero has its advantages and disadvantages. While attempting to do something a normal teenager would do, things go wrong, and it takes a Captain America and an Iron Man to make you feel better. Ticklish!Reader

Remember When: Bucky finds you awake and upset one night. Ticklish!Reader

Bucky, You’re Not Punny: Bucky thinks he’s funny. He’s really not, but he still gets you to laugh. Ticklish!Reader

’S’ Is For ‘Steve’: Steve told you not to get that tattoo. You got it anyway. Ticklish!Reader

Call It Magic: Your fear of thunder drives you into a certain God’s arms one night. Ticklish!Reader

Happy Birthday, Old Man: The one thing you shouldn’t do on Steve’s one hundredth birthday is call him old. Ticklish!Reader

Eerie-Was-I

Pillow Fights and Budding Feelings: Tony calls the Avenger his family out loud, Steve pays Tony a visit to help Iron Man get out of his own head. Ticklish!Tony

The Untitled Story of Ridiculous Feels: Tony finally confides in Steve about the events that occured in Iron Man, the next morning, Steve wants to make sure Tony doesn’t regret it. Ticklish!Steve

Beginning of Something Else: Steve and Tony are mutually pining, finally they decide to do something about it. Ticklish!Tony

Club AU Part 1: Tony works at a club oriented to a very specific clientele. Ticklish!Tony

Favorite Games: Pepper reveals how she keeps Tony under control. The Avengers are totally on board with this. Tony is just done. Ticklish!Tony

Berry-gum Owes Me A Fic Now: Tony is being sent on an undercover mission. Steve finds his disguise absolutely adorable. Teasing. Ticklish!Tony

Another Untitled Thing For Berrygum: An exploration of Natasha and Tony’s bromance. Ticklish!Tony

The Harry Potter AU: Steve perfects “Rictusempra” (NSFW). Ticklish!Tony

MINIFIC: Tony has been teasing Steve. Raspberries. Tame. Ticklish!Tony

Oh God I’m So Tired: Pre-serum Steve and Bucky always feel the need to tease each other. Ticklish!Steve

In Which Loki Is Actually Mildly Useful (for once): Loki turns Steve into a cat. Tony wants to snuggle, but Steve’s fur presents a problem. Ticklish!Tony

Girls Night: Pepper wants to hang out with Natasha and Tony doesn’t know how to interact with humans. Ticklish!Tony

Prelude: Steve loves the sound of Tony’s laughter, so he takes every opportunity to hear it. Ticklish!Tony

Discoveries: Steve mildly injures his foot. Tony is all about helping. Ticklish!Steve, Ticklish!Tony

Overdone: Tony gets a little too enthusiastic regarding Christmas. Ticklish!Tony

The Feathers series: The team finds an alien with a very specific set of feeding needs.

Stark vs Alien: Ticklish!Tony

Stark vs Rogers: Ticklish!Steve

Stark vs Feelings: Ticklish!Tony

Capture series: When you’re trapped in a HYDRA cell, there aren’t that many methods of entertainment.

Capture: Ticklish!Tony

Capture 2: Ticklish!Steve

Capture 3: Ticklish!Tony (NSFW)

Accept Me: Tony has a question and Steve tickles it out of him. Ticklish!Tony

Cheer: Tony is sad. Natasha and Steve are not willing to put up with this. Ticklish!Tony

Frame By Frame: Snippets from the lives of Rhodey and Tony, growing up together.

1: Ticklish!Tony

2: Ticklish!Tony

3: Ticklish!Tony

4: Ticklish!Tony

Flashbacks: Rhodey tells Steve about Tony’s past, Tony has a larger circle of people he can trust. Ticklish!Tony

FanficsAndFluff

Day Off: Tony, Bruce, and Steve are having a lazy day at Avengers Towers. Tony’s out of it and Steve wakes him up with the help of Bruce. Ticklish!Tony, Ticklish!Bruce, Ticklish!Steve

I Believe It’s Called Being Ticklish: Loki got yelled at by his father and goes off to sulk in his room. Luckily, his big brother, Thor, is there to comfort him and to get him smiling again! Ticklish!Loki, Ticklish!Thor

Bucky’s Secret: Bucky is angry and jealous of Steve and his new body. Steve tries to convince him that it isn’t that great to be him anyway by exploiting his weakness. Ticklish!Steve, Ticklish!Bucky

A Friendly Conversation (Part 1): The Avengers are on the hunt for the Tesseract. Before they find it, some acts of friendship and boredom are displayed. Ticklish!Bruce, Ticklish!Tony

A Friendly Conversation (Part 2): The mission was moderately successful. They didn’t get the Tesseract but found the next best thing: Loki. They talk with him to try and figure out what his plan is among other things. But the interrogation goes off target once tickling is brought into the picture. Ticklish!Loki

A Baby’s Day: Earth’s Mightiest Heroes are de-aged and Loki helps babysit! Ticklish!Thor, Ticklish!Bruce, Ticklish!Loki, Ticklish!Tony

Maybe It Wasn’t So Bad: Loki finds out that he’s not a proud Asgardian prince, and rather that he is the son of the Frost Giant king, Laufey. He starts out completely devastated, but then realizes that it wasn’t all bad. Ticklish!Loki

Tickling, Toads, and Trickery: The Avengers chase Loki around the heli-carrier, which results in tickle fights and a vengeful Trickster. Ticklish!Steve, Ticklish!Clint

Sleep: Thorki fic. Late at night, Thor observes his brother and lover while they sleep and he finds all the more reasons to love him. Ticklish!Loki

An Average Asgardian Saturday: During Loki’s parol time after the Battle of New York, him and Thor act like brothers again and explore the castle in Asgard. Ticklish!Loki

What Started Out As Science: Tony tries to get Bruce to sleep someway and somehow… even if it includes some major mothering. Ticklish!Bruce

Making Him Laugh: Tony takes notice of the fact that Bruce never laughs. He makes it his job to get a smile and a laugh out of the guy, even with some persuasion. Ticklish!Bruce, Ticklish!Tony

Heart In The Morning: It’s Bruce’s job to wake the billionaire, playboy, philanthropist and he has his methods. Ticklish!Tony, Ticklish!Bruce

Rushing for Gratitude: Tony tries being open and friendly with Bruce since he stays in Stark Towers with him, and he volunteers to make life as easy as possible for him. He takes measurements of Bruce and fools around with him. Bruce rushes to thank him afterwards. Ticklish!Bruce

The Super Awesome Tickle Fight: The title says it all, the Avengers have a tickle fight. Ticklish!Thor, Ticklish!Clint, Ticklish!Bruce, Ticklish!Steve, Ticklish!Tony

The Battle for the Remote (Original): Tony and Bruce have a cat and mouse chase around Stark Towers. Hilarity ensues. Ticklish!Tony, Ticklish!Bruce

The Battle for the Remote (Alternate Ending): Technically a second part to the original one. Tony and Bruce have a cat and mouse chase around Stark Towers. Hilarity ensues.

The Battle for the Remote (Post Alternate Ending): The continuation of the second part of this series, also the last. Tony and Bruce have a cat and mouse chase around Stark Towers. Hilarity ensues. Ticklish!Bruce

The Hawk’s Weakness: Clint gets himself into a ridiculous situation, in which a delighted Tony Stark finds him. Ticklish!Clint

MISSION: Science Bonding: The Avengers meet up to figure out a way to get Tony and Bruce to talk and interact with each other. Ticklish!Tony, Ticklish!Bruce

Can’t Sleep: Bruce struggles from lack of sleeping. Thor offers his help because maybe together they can figure out a solution. Ticklish!Bruce

Tickle Interrogation: The Avengers need to know where the Tesseract is. Thor knows just how to get the information from Loki. Ticklish!Loki

Doctor/Patient: After defeating Loki, Tony and Bruce go back to the battered Towers building and give each other check-ups, exploiting some ticklish spots.Ticklish!Tony, Ticklish!Bruce

Camping: Thor takes Bruce on a date in the woods. A night filled with tickle fights lies ahead. Ticklish!Bruce, Ticklish!Thor

Persuasion: Thor asks Loki for his help in facing Malekith. When Loki declines, Thor might have to take “drastic” measures to get him to agree. Ticklish!Loki

On My Side: Bucky and Tony have avoided each other for a long time, but when they come face to face, they settle their differences in the most childish way imaginable. Ticklish!Bucky, Ticklish!Tony

You Gotta Get Out More: Bucky getting a metal arm-repair from the billionaire philanthropist which comes with some tickly adjustments. Ticklish!Tony, Ticklish!Bucky

Comfort, Dance, Fireplace: Tony takes Bucky out on a date, they get drunk, and fun begins. Ticklish!Tony, Ticklish!Bucky

Not Here: Post Ragnarok, Loki and Thor attempt to be brothers again. Ticklish!Loki, Ticklish!Thor

FluffySeaPancakes

SERIES: Airplane: You are on Tony’s private jet with Peter Parker for a mission, he finds a little secret of yours and decides to exploit it with the Avengers. Ticklish!reader, Ticklish!Peter

Always Have a Plan: Reader is teasing Loki and he has enough and wrecks her. Ticklish!reader

Bane of Your Existence: Peter finds out that the reader gets flustered when he says “tickle” or wiggles his fingers, and a lot of teasing ensues. Ticklish!reader

Bathtime: Tony’s guilty pleasure are baths, but he refuses to let anyone know about it. One night as he’s relaxing in the tub, Steve barges in and decides to annoy Iron Man for a bit. Ticklish!Tony

The Best Little Sister: Loki comes into your room extremely upset about something and as his little sister, you know exactly how to cheer him up. Ticklish!Loki

SERIES: Bully: You are the school bully but when Peter Parker finds out your secret and breaks down your cold walls, you two start to fall for each other. Ticklish!reader

Catch a Laugh: You’re re-recording some audio for the movie and you run into trouble with a particular scene. Thankfully, Tom knows exactly how to overcome that. Ticklish!reader

Classroom Jokes: Peter sits behind the Reader in math class and pokes her back to get her attention, he realizes that her back is ticklish so he starts to tease her about it while Reader tries to stay quiet in class. Ticklish!Peter

Costumes: It’s Halloween and Peter wants Tony to wear a costume. Tony, however, has a different idea. Ticklish!Peter

Game Night: Steve is aching to play some games with his friends, but they’re all stuck on their phones. If there was only a way to get their attention… Ticklish!Steve

Halloween: “Have I mentioned, I fucking hate Halloween.” Peter wants you do dress up with him for Halloween and you refuse, but he gives you compelling evidence on why Halloween isn’t so bad. Ticklish!reader

A Healing Touch: You have the power to heal yourself and your fighting skills are rather extraordinary. While the Chitauri is invading New York (again), you are seriously injured and Steve is concerned about you. Ticklish!reader

Hot Chocolate: Reader finds out that Peter’s ticklish and tells Tony about it, he chases and tickles the reader for revenge. Ticklish!Peter, Ticklish!reader

Make Me Laugh: Reader teases Peter for laughing at everything and he challenges it with, “No I don’t! Go ahead, make me laugh.“ Ticklish!Peter

My Secret Powers: You are a mutant who can feel what others are feeling, and the Avengers enjoy taking advantage of those powers. Ticklish!Peter, Ticklish!reader, Ticklish!Steve, Ticklish!Tony

Nerd: “You’re a nerd.” Peter is ashamed of his hobbies and interests, but Tony makes sure he knows that he’s not alone. Ticklish!Peter

Panic Attack: Reader and Peter Parker are dating, and reader has a panic attack in the middle of the night because of too much stress. Ticklish!reader

Pinky Promise: You played an innocent prank on Steve Rogers but ended up finding out about his little secret. Ticklish!reader

Present: “Show me what’s behind your back.” Peter has wonderful news about his science project and you make a little gift for him. Ticklish!reader

Smile: “Just smile, I really need to see you smile right now.” Wanda is using you as a model for her painting but you’re struggling to hold a nice smile. She finds a way to help you out. Ticklish!reader

SERIES: Snatcher: You are a mutant who does petty crimes for clients to afford food and shelter. The newest gig doesn’t go as planned and Tony Stark offers you a position at the Stark Towers. This sparks a brand new life for you. Ticklish!Reader

Snowball Fight: You have a very one sided snowball fight with Loki and Thor. Ticklish!reader

Tradition: Peter Parker still gets nervous around the Avengers so Steve helps him relax. Ticklish!Peter, Ticklish!Tony

Training: Reader has a little sister relationship with Thor and she’s all whiney and childish while she’s training so Thor tickles her to shut her up. Ticklish!reader

The Wild Creature: Reader gets playful and attempts to tickle Peter, but due to his Spidey strength, he just wrecks her. Ticklish!Peter, Ticklish!reader

Hazel-K-Proserpine

A Little Wrapped Up: Peter gets stuck in his own webs, so Tony tries to help. Ticklish!Peter

A Rare Day Off: Clint and Natasha spend some time together on a day off. Ticklish!Natasha

A Ticklish Winter Soldier: Steve and Tony help Bucky de-stress. Ticklish!Bucky

Hard Work…and Some Play: Steve and Peter are paired for sparring on a training day and Steve needs to find some way to get the spider pinned. Ticklish!Peter

Horrendous vs. Hilarious: Steve gets stuck in a suit, and of course the suit starts to vibrate. Tony is thoroughly entertained. Ticklish!Steve

In These Dark Days: Peter is having a hard time and Bucky understands, so he tries to help the kid out. Ticklish!Peter

Itsy Bitsy Spider: Peter’s having a bad day, so Tony does his best to cheer him up. Ticklish!Peter

Lovers and Laser Tag: Bucky get Steve during laser tag, so Steve punishes him when they get back home. Ticklish!Bucky

Sequel to Lovers and Laser Tag: Steve’s Turn: Steve tries to sabotage Bucky during laser tag, so Bucky gets revenge. Ticklish!Steve

Seriously You Two: Tony helps Bucky and Steve get together after having to hear about both of them pining. Ticklish!Bucky

That’s More Like It (Continuation of Seriously You Two): Bucky and Steve finally go on their date. Ticklish!Bucky

So You Like It: Bucky wants more with Steve, and he also realizes that maybe he likes tickling, but not at a great time. Ticklish!Bucky

Spiderling’s Crush: The Avengers convince Peter to spill the details of his crush. Ticklish!Peter

Super Spy vs Super Soldier: Natasha and Steve have a new favourite game called ‘catch and tickle’. Ticklish!Steve

Welcome Home, Spiderling: The Avengers go out of their way to make sure that Peter knows that he is a part of the team and he should try to destress a little. Tony wants to focus on the destressing most of all. Ticklish!Peter

You’ll Pay For That: Reader pranks Loki, Loki can’t let the reader get away with that. Ticklish!Reader, Ticklish!Loki

HeartsyWritesTheThings

Wrestling Through Time: From pre-serum to post-serum to present day, Steve and Bucky have always had their fair share of play fighting. Ticklish!Steve, Ticklish!Bucky

Hexalianrebel-blackfeathers

Not-So-Close Shave: Tony and Steve tease each other in Tony’s lab. Ticklish!Steve, Ticklish!Tony

Mystey-Writes

There’s Growth in Pain: Steve helps Bucky figure things out and deal with his guilt. Ticklish!Steve

Shield Stealer: Natasha steals Steve’s shield. Ticklish!Natasha, Ticklish!Steve

Fallen Spider: Peter takes a fall, so Tony gives him a little examination. Ticklish!Peter

RaspberryTummyTickles

Overwhelming: When Steve gets overwhelmed, Tony distracts him to help his boyfriend relax. Ticklish!Steve

Kinks: Bruce really should of minded where he put his computer. Especially when working with Tony Stark. Ticklish!Bruce

StonerClintBarton

Nights When You Can’t Sleep: Everytime Clint can’t sleep, he always calls Natasha to come stay with him. Each time never fails to brighten up his sleepless nights. Ticklish!Clint

SugarFics

Biology Of A Spider: Just the thought of Ned tickling him can get Peter giggling, Ned uses this knowledge to his advantage. Ticklish!Peter

Playful Profanity: Steve makes fun of Bucky’s old age, so after a frantic chase, Bucky dismantles Steve with his fingers in front of the whole team. Ticklish!Steve

TicklishRaspberries

Not Like Other Girls: MJ is always taking Peter by surprise. Ticklish!Peter, Ticklish!MJ

Intern Interrogation: MJ questions Peter about his internship. Ticklish!Peter

Spidey-Senses: Peter’s two friends learn a lot of new things about him. Ticklish!Peter

Tickletastic

The Bored Web-Slinger: Peter wanders around the Avenger Tower on a particularly boring day, until he gets sucked into Bucky and Steve’s shenanigans. Ticklish!Steve, Ticklish!Peter

The Golden Retrievers: Nothing is normal the way it was before the snap, but the Avengers are much closer afterwards, and an unlikely trio of excited pop-culture lovers emerges. Ticklish!Peter Parker

A Far Too Sleepy Spider: Tony needs to find a way to wake Peter up, because apparently, the kid could sleep through a hurricane. Ticklish!Peter

#Marvel #The Avengers #The Avengers Masterpost #tickle fics #tickle community #tickle fic catalogue #marvel masterpost

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moon-towers · 5 years

Text

Growing Pains

Oneshot - Rayla has been off all day, dismissive even. When her restlessness keeps Callum up all night he goes to investigate what's been eating at the Moonshadow Elf lately. Very gentle, implied Rayllum pining/interest

Read under the fold, or here on Ao3

- * - * -

Callum shifted in his sleeping sack, unable to fall asleep. Ezran was sprawled half out of his own sleep sack, one arm firmly wrapped around Bait’s sleeping form. It was Rayla who continued to toss and turn, occasionally getting up and pacing restlessly before returning to her spot on the ground.

Callum considered her actions, she is a Moonshadow Elf, she thrives under the light of the moon after all. But they’d already spent a few nights together and Rayla had never been this on edge as they all settled in for the night, and even if she did get up to move around sometime in the night she was typically near silent.

Callum stared at the outcropping of rock above him, the dim light of the dying fire dancing across the stone. He considered how after their evening meal Rayla excused herself for a walk around their resting area, to ensure its safety for each of them, and then she disappeared into the underbrush until the sun had just dipped below the horizon. Callum had attempted to strike up conversation with her, but she was brusque, electing to perch in a tree at the perimeter of their campsite.

Ezran was already asleep by the time she jumped from the tree and tossed her rucksack to the ground to try and sleep. Callum supposed she thought him to be asleep as well, as she got up to pace around for the third time this hour. This time, however, she clambered through the small clearing with an uncharacteristic inelegance. Callum turned, propping his arm beneath his head to catch a better view of the elf as she continued toward the treeline.

He wrinkled his brow as he continued to observe her, the way she clung to the tree just as it came into arms length, or the way she drug her hands through her hair, roughly pulling against her scalp. Callum debated on taking the opportunity to reattempt sleep now that Rayla was much further away, her strange ritual quieted by the distance. He had only just closed his eyes when a muffled moan caught his ears.

Callum sat up, digging through his bag for his waterskin before rising to approach Rayla. He took stock that her twin blades sat on the ground beside her bag, folded neatly.

“No slishing and slashing if I startle her, at least,” Callum murmured, fidgeting with his waterskin as he neared the elf. Callum stood only a few feet away now, still unnoticed by Rayla, who leaned against the tree pressing the heel of her palms against her eyes. “Rayla? I brought you some water, didn’t know if you needed it,” Callum murmured, more for his own sake than hers, not wanting to risk totally surprising her with his sudden appearance.

She only groaned in response, lifting a hand to reveal one lilac eye, shadowed by heavy bags beneath it. Callum wordlessly brought the waterskin to her free hand, pressing it into her grasp as a silent urge to drink from it. Rayla’s other hand fell from her face to unscrew the cap, keeping her eyes on Callum before taking a careful gulp and returning the container to Callum.

Silence passed between them for a few moments. “So,” Callum started, kicking at the ground as though he were afraid to continue his sentence. “Are you gonna tell me what’s been keeping you up, or do you just want me to leave you be?”

Rayla only turned her eyes skyward, Callum followed suit, searching for what she might be looking for on a cloudy night like tonight. The moon could barely be made out, a faint shining sphere draped by a curtain of clouds. If his memory was correct the moon was still waning somewhere between half and new moon. He wondered briefly if its stages had any effect on Rayla.

“It’s really nothin’” Rayla breathed, loosing a half-hearted laugh. “Sorry if I kept ya up with all my amblin about.”

It was Callum’s turn to let the silence between them linger, he wasn’t sure how to respond. He didn’t know Rayla well enough to press the issue, and he had already prefaced with the concept of leaving her alone if she wishes. He could kick himself, of course she’d opt to push the human away when she was clearly in a moment of weakness. The analogy of a wounded animal jumped to the forefront of his mind, but he pressed it back, unwilling to liken her to a desperate creature just because she wasn’t human.

Rayla released an aggravated groan and half sat-half fell to the ground, pulling her small form as close to herself as she could, hands clasping just above her temple. Callum was still for only a breath before dropping to his own knees, unsure how to proceed from here.

“Rayla, you really can’t think I believe you when you say it’s nothing, right?” His hands hovered over her, somewhere between a protective stance and comforting hug.

“It’s just my head,” Rayla ground out, her eyes screwed tightly shut, contorting the dark marks that dripped down her face not unlike tear lines.

“A migraine? I know that Ezran has got a herb for that somewhere in his bag--”” Callum jumped to his feet. “I can brew tea for it--I swear it works like a charm every time--”

A four-fingered hand clutched his own hand in a crushing grasp. “No, it’s--it’s not the brainy bits that hurt… its…” Had she not been in so much pain Callum may have noted the embarrassment that was painted across her face. “It’s jus growin’ pains.”

Growing pains? Callum recalled the soreness in his joints from growth spurts maybe a year or two ago, but never severe headaches like this. He tried to remember a time his head hurt in a way that wasn’t a headache--had she hit her head when patrolling after dinner?

“Are you sure tea wouldn’t help? Just because it’s not a migraine doesn’t mean it won’t help your headache!”

Her hand, still holding him by the wrist tightened once more. “No you dobber! My horns--” Rayla ground out the words, throwing her head back against the tree, releasing Callum’s hand to throw her arm over her eyes. “I could cut these things off right about now, been killin’ me all day.”

Well, it certainly explained her sour mood today, Callum thought. He hadn’t considered that before though, the physical process of Rayla’s horns growing and pressing against her skull. It gave him a whole new appreciation for her endearing term for he and Ezran--flat-skulls.

Still wary about deliberately touching Rayla, Callum rocked back to sit on his bottom. They sat for a long moment without moving, though Rayla continued to squirm uncomfortably.

Callum finally elected to help however he might, angling so that he sat slightly behind Rayla. He set down his water skin, cautiously rubbing his hands together before weaving them into Rayla’s hair until the pads of his fingers found her scalp. Gently he applied pressure, methodically moving his hands across her skull, trying to relieve the grinding pain she felt.

“What in the name of Xadia are you doing, Callum?” Rayla’s words conveyed annoyance, but her head lulled back into his touch a bit. Callum’s face reddened, thinking of the way his mother would lovingly massage his head and hair as a young boy when he felt scared or stressed.

He looked away, back up toward the cloudy sky where the moon now barely peaked through the grey cover. “I just wanted to help--we have a lot of travelling to do still to get that egg back home, so you have to be ready for tomorrow too.”

Rayla hummed in response, leaning more into the touch until her shoulders fell squarely against Callum’s chest. His hands were not as tough and callused as they should be, considering how often he skipped out on training with Soren. He was never one for brute force, rather more delicate tasks like drawing or writing.

Instead Callum’s hands wandered carefully across Rayla’s scalp, mindful of the sensitive horns that jutted from just above her hairline. As his hands moved he was also sure to avoid her elven ears, unsure of how she might respond to him touching them without permission. Callum was shocked she had not yet batted him away from her head, since even he still wasn’t entirely sure what possessed him to touch her like his.

“Growing up I got nothing but tough love from Runaan,” Rayla murmured, splitting the silence which had settled between them. “It wasn’t all bad, he taught me a lot about how to handle life. I guess no one ever showed him a lick of tenderness though, because this--” she tilted her head into his hands a bit, “--is a far cry from his tried and true strategy of lickin’ your wounds in private.”

Callum could have laughed at her voicing the exact analogy he’s just mentally denied himself, but he instead focused on the conversation Rayla had presented.

“My mom,” he paused, unsure what to say. It was a tough subject for him, and Ezran had no real memories of their mother, making his happy memories with her feel even more bittersweet. “She would always massage my scalp or play with my hair as a kid. I think she coddled me so much because she was trying to make up for my dad dying and her remarrying.”

Rayla tilted her head so she could look toward Callum, “I suppose that’s better than being the one living in shame for their parents actions.”

Callum looked back down at the girl beneath him, studying the patterns in her horns, the way her chest rose and fell rhythmically, and how her heavy lidded eyes had finally shuttered her lilac orbs even as she spoke.

“I think I work so hard because I’m always trying to make up for their failure before the Dragon King.” She wrung her hands, fingering the ribbon around her wrist. “I might not be cut out to be an assassin, but I know it’s my duty to get that egg back safe. It means so much to Xadia, and has even wider implications for the relations between Humans and Xadians as a whole.”

Callum nodded thoughtfully, also aware of how important their mission was. He was grateful though that their conversation had seemed to help bring her attention away from her state of pain. He pressed his fingers into the base of each horn, kneading the sensitive scalp flanking her dark horns. Rayla only shimmied in, giving him greater access to her scalp, a silent beckon for him to continue.

She looked peaceful like this, Callum thought.

His fingers brushed against the crown of her head, watching how his ministrations seemed to melt away the tension that previously marred her features.

Rayla’s body was almost entirely slack, and her breathing had deepened. She’d fallen asleep. Callum blushed, feeling the heat rush in his ears at the way she slouched against him. He was stuck, pinned between Rayla and the tree behind them.

He briefly wished he had his sketchbook so he could capture Rayla in a moment where she’s totally unaware--a rare state for her. Callum settled for committing the image to memory, finally pulling his hands from her hair.

Hesitantly, Callum secured one hand respectfully against Rayla’s waist to ensure she didn’t slide off of him in her sleep. His other hand briefly toyed with a longer section of her hair, unsure what exactly to do in this position.

Callum pressed his head back into the tree trunk and gazed up into the sky once more, noting it had cleared considerably since he first looked. The waning crescent was clear, surrounded by the shimmering light of surrounding stars. He fell asleep like that, holding Rayla close, sure that she would wake before him and never mention this night to him again.

Before truly drifting off, Callum promised himself to draw her sleeping face from memory in his next free moment. Because when she had her guard down, she looked just like the silver moon that emerged shyly from its gray cover of clouds.

#I uwu'd while writing this #Rayllum #Well... platonic or romantic... you decide #Oneshot #TDP #the dragon prince #Callum #Rayla #TDP Callum #TDP Rayla #TDP Rayllum #Netflix the dragon prince #Rayllum Oneshot

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dashinberlin · 6 years

Text

The First Day of the Rest of My Life in Berlin

Welcome to my diary. I have been meaning to keep one of these for the whole of my twenties but I never got around to it. I’m currently 26 years old and today was the day that I moved to Berlin. It was a decision i made one year and ten days ago on the 13th of November. IT came about because my dreams and career have been stagnating for a while [4 years] In London and I really wasn’t happy anymore, especially after moving back in with my dad because my previous residence was too full of dogshit and used needles. I got up at about 8 I think. Dean, my ex boyfriend and best friend came over about 9, and we spent the morning sorting out a bunch of my last belongings. It was all very frantic and rushed, but I left the house in a state my dad was relatively pleased with.

We went to the post office first to mail some rubber to my crush in America. It was rubber from my passed away Sir. We were such a scene trying to fix the broken granny trolley full of stuff for dean with parcel tape in front of a busy post office. We got on the tube. It was a nightmare trying to navigate with three things on wheeels and about 5 or 6 back packs or bags. It was really strange and busy the whole things. Given that I had given myself a year to plan all of this, the fantasy-land version of myself had dreamed that everything would have been packed up and put to bed months ago, however the real version of me new I would be a qausi ,but never ever complete disaster as usual. In my head I think of myself as being one on a team of rag tag misfit kits who save the day wearing inventive but destroyed outfits, and brandish effective yet fucking weird and unconventional looking weapons.

So yeah we got to the airport and checked in, nearly burst into tears telling the lady on the desk i’d been planning this day for a year. my mate Bill works at heathrow and he came and joined us at the whetherspoons to see me off. When we’d drank and the time came for us to leave I decided now was the perfect time to record a video with Dean where we read off and performed our list of completely fucking weird and abstract foiles-es-deux language memes from the stickynotes app on my laptop. “blabble fish” “octoboyfriend” “Hatch distress call” and “pacman around the shop” were all memes that we re-enacted for this video. it was LOLZ.

And then the time was upon us. We walked to the gate, and we said goodbye. I pretty much instantly burst into tears telling dean good bye and how much i loved him, whilst holding him. We’ve been joined at the hip seeing each other at least two times a week for four years so it was a bit tough. We said we loved each other and were thankful for the times we had. I gave bill a “come here Bill!” and pulled him close.

Got through security and put my head-phones on. Next song up on my list was Foals- Spanish Sahara. This track is a work of art. It progresses so slowly I had to skip the first minute to be able to skip to the part where you could actually say it was a beginning verse. I walked to my gate (A26) as the song progresses. .... This whole time, the last year I knew was going to be year of closing doors behind me, some shut easy, some shut with the sound of broken hearts bittersweet wishes. When I decided to leave London it was like suddenly my 3d interaction with the city and all the people in it had become a massive one way track labyrinthine palace and at every step where i knew it was the last time i’d be in one place, or talk to one person, I neatly and quietly closed the door of this memory behind me. At first you’re zig zagging all over town shutting doors, but when it gets closer to things like, your leaving party, and your last ten tube rides, and then last time you see people you see every day, and then suddenly you’re listening to Spanish Sahara (a song about abandoning a foresaken place) and you’re looking through airport glass at the plane your about to board and you let out a great big silent scream because the fucking plane door now not only represents final closure of the palace of your life in London, all the hopes, failures dreams, tears, memories, laughs, blood, semen, and ambitions of this place. It staggeringly also carries the weight of being a portal to another dimension. At this point the plane ceases to be a plane, but instead is now a vessel that carries you from your neatly shut-down city of failed dreams, through time and space, to your future in a world that you really don’t know that much about, apart from that there was a big wall that cut it in half, and that it is currently the stunning playground of Gay Angels, Neo Nazi Demons, and all those in between... oh and by the way, they’re all dancing to techno and fucking on the dancefloor.

So I board the plane. I go to my seat I booked, its by a window at the very back. I’m sitting there with tears in my eyes and a woman turns around from the seat in front of me and asks in german if the lighter she has just found on the floor is mine. I tell her no its not, an eventually in german “Dass is nicht mein feuerzoig” and we strike up conversation. I tell her very quickly this is my moving flight to berlin that i’ve been planning on for one , and she’s instantly overwhelmed with compassionate amazement. Her name is Ingrid. She was super sweet to me, and told me numerous times that she had huge respect for me making this gigantic leap, and the guts it took to make it, and how much fun berlin would be, and how so many people never listen to their gut instinct. Over the cours of the flight she tells me over her story, how she lived in Berlin for 10 years, in Schoneberg no less, and how she thought she’d be happier becoming a sister in a convent, and how her dream led her astray, and how it had hurt to leave everything to start again and it not worked out. She explained how she worked in finance for a bit, and then a hospice which was a her true calling in life, and now how she was doing finance work again....and was very unfulfilled. I told her more of my year, how the dogshit needle house and years of london stagnation had made me so anxious sometimes at work I just wanted to sit there and cry and scream at the blank wall in front of my desk. And how something drastic needed to be done. I told her how I lost Michael in Berlin and how is death affected me, nd how I believe in magic and the amazing energy of the universe that will help and guide you if you are good, and you believe, and if you ask nicely and you yearn, and you work hard it will heLP YOU THE FUCK OUT. Ingrid supported all my additions with points of her own, and I think in that moment she new that like me, her life had become derailed from it’s path towards destiny and that it was time to get off of this path of pointlessness and back on one which makes her happy. That vessel. The wormhole to another life. Was a magical place to be. The plane flew over a beautiful wash of white clouds the whole way to Germany, and their textures changed from bright sunshine to darkness very quickly as sunset speed was enhanced by the plane’s cruising speed of threehundredandX MPH. With the ground obscured by smokewaves and light switch of the earth being flicked off so quickly, it was the transition from one path to another was practically audible. It was like the closing palace was actually my universe collapsing into a singular hyper dense singularity, and this new state, one even smaller than an atom was where I was in the vessel in that moment. The changing of the sky and the earth around me was actually the visual signs that my new future was being rotated and recalibrated around me, so that when the door of that fucking plane opened, a new palace and a new universe and a new future would burst out in front of me, sprawling infinitely. The name of that future is Berlin.

The plane lands. I get my bags with Ingrid. We take a selfie, proclaim the importance and sacred of our meeting and we move on. In the cab ride back to my place the driver welcomes me to Berlin and we instantly start talking about the insane nightlife. By the end of the cab ride he has revealed to me that he has always wanted to go to berghain and i give him some ideas of he could look cool and get in. and he is very thankful. He also told me how when he’s having sex he loves speaking in english because he finds it super fucking hot...like seriously, he spoke so emphatically that from what i can tell, english sex is to him what bondage fisting is to me.

I hang about for ten minutes waiting for Alis excited as fuck. When she arrives and opens the foor and screams “welcome to your new chapter!!” she looks slightly concerned at me for second because a few seconds has passed now and I’m so fulll of amazement and awe at those words my mouth was a big jar with a small lid, and filled with big word pickles and none of the eighty word pickeles could come out. . . So I just sort of jumped in the air and screamed a abit. We climbed about 7 flights of stairs up to the flat with my HEAVY Fuckng bags where she let me in and showed me my new room. Which. just. oh. my god. It’s. just. so fucking big. I can’t even believe it. I have the best room in the house! It’s long and tall, you could get about two and a half of my old bedroom in brixton into it easily. Suddenly I was here, The sparks of my new life palace constructing itself in front of me. All I could think was that it seemed so easy in a way. Like I had asked, and yes i did work, and save, and put in love and money and effort, and it just appeared in front me and now I can just go walk over, and pick it up and hold it and it’s mine. MY DREAM IS MINE AND ITS COMING TRUE EVERY SECOND THAT PASSES.

#bLOG #BERLIN LIFE #I MOVED TO BERLIN #MOVING TO BERLIN #ROAD TO BERLIN #I LOVE BERLIN #BERLIN BLOG #LONDON #NEW LIFE #DIARY

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smartcookie727 · 6 years

Note

Tell us more about your ships and why do you ship those... both my hero academia and ft cus I'm looking for more ships to fill my life

Sure thing! Let’s start with FTcause bnha has soooo many characters and is a hodgepodge of ships.

Fairy Tail:

Gajevy -My true OTP. They are the halves that make each other whole. Both are greatcharacters on their own but together they make each other better. Levy isanalytical and shy with the intellect and work ethic beyond anyone else. Gajeelknows how to get the job done; he is fiercely protective and very in touch withhis emotions. He doesn’t care what others think of his attitude, and to him actionsmean more than words. Both could be classified as people who like to work aloneyet they both have small teams (Shadow gear and pantherlily / dragonslayers).Levy is the planning to Gajeel’s punch and Gajeel is the confidence behind Levy’swords. I love their dynamic so much. They have gone through pain, recovery,trust, friendship, and love. There is so much to explore with both of theircharacters and life in general. The flirty banter is strong with these two.They fall into the “world melts away” relationship. They sometimes don’trealize how obviously in love they are because neither is good at hidingemotions, and both are direct, passionate people with their feelings. Levy andGajeel push each other just enough to foster growth without crossing the lineof fighting all the time. In a word they are balanced. I can’t see them withothers because they make for the most supportive, balanced pair long term.

Nalu - Whata dynamic and friendship! These two have a great connection and trust in eachother. They are playful but caring with corny innuendos sprinkled in. They makesense. They have moved from friends to partners who have saved each othersasses enough times for them to think…why do I run headfirst into danger foryou. I find them interesting since they have a different dynamic than my otherdragonslayer/bookworm duo. There are threads of similarity but they have adifferent core bond. They are a couple that shows that love can grow andchange, relationships develop at different speeds and love doesn’t have to be asudden burst where you just know.

Jerza -Being a leader is a lonely job. These two are really interesting to me. Theyare the stoic captains that put everyone before themselves. Erza cares deeplyabout her guild and puts the weight of everyone’s happiness above her own. Shemade what she believes to be a selfish decision long ago that defined her andhas been trying to make up for it since. Jellal is similar. He made terriblechoices he is unwilling to forgive. Neither believes they deserve the love andaffection they desire. There is a constant inner turmoil is fun to play with.Head vs heart. I believe these two are each others’ home. No one understandsthe pressure they feel like the other can. When they can be together the wallscome down and both can enjoy the simple things they normally give up. Together,neither has to be the person people will turn to for help or guidance, they canjust be themselves. Let your hair down Erza, you deserve love andrelaxation.

Bixanna -Mischief making matchmakers! I love these two. They both are the cutewisecrackers of their respective groups. Bickslow has this gruff edge, keepcalm and kick ass side, and totally dorky jokes. He’s not afraid to get sillyand gives zero fucks. Lisanna is the total support he needs to be himself.Wanna be silly and go play pranks? Lis can keep up. Wanna go fight monsters?Lis can keep up and look cute doing it. Wanna chill on the couch and thinkabout how strong of a bond your team has? Lis does too. They work well in thesense of balance too. Lisanna tends to be the person that is quietly friendswith everyone but is close with a select few. Bickslow brings her out of hershell. She’s had a strange distance since returning to the guild and primarilyhangs with fam…I think that those years people thought she was dead made herreturn bittersweet. They tried to move on as best they could and she got leftbehind. When she gets back it’s hard to find her place. Her old dynamics havechanged…the bond is still there but things aren’t the same. Theirrelationship isn’t built in the past or defined by her return. They are peoplewho found each other unexpectedly…one of those relationships that suddenlyhappened when neither was looking for it. I think I’d categorize them ashope and future. Both have had dark times that may haunt them occasionally, butthey give each other a clean slate and zero judgment.

Merelow -My official crack babies. I was randomly thinking one day and this ship fellinto my lap! Bickslow: badass jokester. Meredy: badass bubblegum girl. Put emtogether and magic. These two are ready to try anything and everything. Theybring out the adventurous spontaneity in each other. Both have been on thewrong side of the fight and have moved forward. They have a core team thatmeans the world to them and are supremely loyal to each other. These two aresimilar to the bixanna dynamic with more of a wanderer side thrown in. They’vehad their breakdowns and have forgiven themselves and grown. They both give somuch love and cheer to their friends. I also love how compatible their magicis. Soul control and soul link. These two aren’t afraid to fight and cry andlove and sing. Neither tries to hide anything from the other. They are socomfortable together and they truly understand each other. They make everyeffort so that the other will smile, and I just love them.

Sildarts -OK. so. @gsut and @sanguine-fairy got me on this ship. Grumpy kickass dudes withgrumpy kids. They’ve been through many hardships in life and have loved andcried and have so much more life behind them than most of my other ships. They havea deeper connection by their love for their kids and their strain to have alife of their own. These two experienced individuals kinda trip over themselveslike teens as they explore a new side of themselves in this relationship. Noone knows how it’s supposed to go. Silver has many of the qualities I admire in Gray and kindareigns in Gildarts’ craziness. Gildarts gives him balance. He throws stoicSilver and all caution to the wind and make them both laugh and fill the piecesof their hearts that have been empty. Also these men know how to brood and beangry and glum…they have held in their emotions so much that both understandthe subtle cues when the other is upset…though it doesn’t always stop somepretty intense fights. They are passionate guys that hold each other up whenlife tries to punch them in the gut.

Lyredy - Two sweet, sensitive cuties. These two are harmony. Lyon is hella romantic and is always doing things both large and smallto show how much he cares for her. Meredy can see through the bravado he putson to the core person he is. She helps Lyon not to take himself too seriouslyand he always makes her laugh and smile. Meredy has insecurities about her pastand Lyon understands this himself. He will be as over the top as her can or asdown to earth as he needs to make her feel better. Both talk big about love butfind themselves remarkably shy when it actually happens. They are a mix ofadventure and shyness and pull each other along to find new things to love.They are a softer romance and I adore them.

Gruvia - Pushing through barriers these two truly stumbledinto romance. She could see his walls from the start and has felt the pain ofbuilding them herself, but Gray showed her such kindness that she truly felt achange. Gray and Juvia are elements that shape each other, pushing each otherto grow without necessarily trying. They became friends who feel a strong senseof responsibility to each other. Time turned friendship to love and I enjoy theway they play with the intensity of their romance. At times they are soft andsweet and others they are hot and heavy. She gives him a place to be candidwith his emotions and he reigns in her dramatic side. At their cores they carefor each other deeply and rely on their mutual support more than they realize.They will always drift back to each other, even when things tough.

Miraxus/Laxana/Canajane/Fraxus - idk why but I love them ALL. Miraxus is so cute andfun. They both have a calm and wild side. They are the heads of theirrespective groups and take things very seriously. When they’re together theycan let their hair down. Laxus sees through the smile she always wears down tothe fragile person she can be. Laxus is so stoic and Mira can always tell whathe’s thinking. They are more reserved as a couple and just enjoy each other’scompany. Laxana is fun and flirty. They rile each other up and don’t let thefun stop. They can laugh at anything and take great fun in jokes and quips witheach other. Always exploring and having an adventure with these two! Canajane.Talk about flirty cuteness and innuendos. They truly care about each other andCana is always pushing Mira to try new things. Mira keeps Cana grounded andwill always support and carry her. Fraxus. Mutual love and support. They aren’tfond of pda but the love can always be seen in their eyes. These two trulyhave each other’s back and always understand what each other needs.

Anyone else…I enjoy mymultishipping (aside from gajevy) so if there’s another couple that I canreally understand I’ll probably enjoy them: Chendy, LaLu, GrayLu, Alzack/Bisca,Stinerva, Minerza, Freed/Rufus, ships with Juvia, peeps from Mermaid Heel, etc.The only problem I have is if I can’t understand the relationshipdynamic…then things just fizzle in my mind.

Hahahaha now onto BNHA! OK I’mkinda tired from FT so I’ll keep these explanations less elaborate

BNHA:

Todomomo - insecure strong kids that lift each other up andbelieve in each other. Momo is such an interesting character and I love her.

Kacchako - fight like a girl. He respects her and she respectshim. They push each other to be better and I just love a cinnamon roll with agrumpy boy

Iihatsu - who better for a machine inventing girl than the guywith the engine built right in? she’s not afraid of anything and helps iida letloose. He’s always there to try her new inventions and she always makes himsmile.

Fuyusei, Bakumomo, Bakushima - love them all and they totally make sense

KiriMina, Jiro/Kaminari - such cute kids

Momo/Iida, Ochako/Iida,Ochako/Deku, Hakagure/Ojiro - cute potential and they have moments that make me smile

#cookie answers #anon #gajevy #nalu #jerza #bixanna #merelow #sildarts #lyredy #gruvia #ahhhh so many ships #there's probably more tbh #but here yall go #my lovely ships #for real todomomo kaccako and iihatsu tho

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littlewitchhazels-blog · 6 years

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Brings Me Back

“We ran! We just ran!”

Let’s take a wild guess on which Jopper scene left the biggest impression on me in S2 :) This started out as a little bit of a ramble/me deconstructing the scene and working my way around an interpretation of a younger Joyce and Hopper friendship, then it became this! Hope you enjoy! (Read on AO3)

Strange, really, to think of the old days, when nothing really mattered. Nevertheless, Joyce couldn’t help but allow herself to be swept up in the wave of nostalgia and bittersweet memories that overcame her in the quiet moments. It was nice to indulge herself in such luxuries every once in a while, when things got tough.

She cast herself back to the eerily quiet schoolyard — an empty world that seemed almost out of place compared to the noisy scene one would usually associate with the open area — the way it always was when all the boisterous kids had even herded away into their classrooms. Joyce recalled with a smile the glassy-eyed stares of old classmates during those last few periods of the day, just waiting to be freed from the cramped classrooms and stuffy teachers. In a way, you could almost call the deserted schoolyard peaceful. Still, there were stragglers — why wouldn’t there be? She was one of them! — shuffling amidst the collection of parked cars that lined the pavement.

It was easy enough to sneak through the halls and past the buildings, finding yourself out in the open and away from the monotony of the classroom’s teachings. Most of the time, teachers didn’t give a shit and you could probably count on your classmates not to snitch (given that they weren’t skipping, themselves). In any case, the only torture the teachers could provide in lieu of skipping fifth and sixth period was the painful boredom of detention. Even that, as terrible as it would seem at the time, was survivable. You were guaranteed to get caught at least once or twice, but everyone got smart after that. Well, ‘smart’ was a generous way of putting it, but damn did it make them feel untouchable! What she’d give to have that stubborn bravery of her youth once more.

Even as one hand bounced nervously against her thigh, Joyce was always confident in her march across the empty schoolyard of Hawkins High, easily ducking under windows and keeping close to the walls when she had to. The path and all its obstacles were almost ingrained in her memories. All she had to do was walk. Every now and then, she’d throw a cautious glance over her shoulder, but really there was never anything to worry about so long as she kept light on her feet.

In all honesty, she probably could have walked the whole way with her eyes closed; Joyce was willing to bet that even now, some twenty-odd years down the road, she still could have done it. Just one more turn and there: The steps around the back of the school, thankfully devoid of any other skulking students. Maybe there was some other stomping ground for the no-good miscreants of Hawkins High, but the thought of seeking out some other sheltered haven never crossed Joyce’s mind back then. Either way, past residents had already left their marks with the cigarette butts that littered the ground and the streaks of ash that smeared the concrete. Joyce had always cautioned one last peek around the area before ducking under the steps. It never hurt in the long run to be just a little more cautious.

Usually, that in itself was enough — an instinct learned after one too many dull detentions, and from the fretful thoughts lingering at the corners of her mind — but every once in a while it simply wasn't enough. Joyce would never forget that day Mr. Cooper caught her and Hopper smoking under the steps.

Her fingers were tapping against the rusted support she leant against, drumming out a nervous tune as she stood waiting for what felt like a goddamn eternity. Come on, where is he, where is he, where is he? She was always first, used to always be the one waiting until the fateful day she simply stopped coming. That was just the way it always was: She’d tap out her anxieties for a few achingly long minutes, slowly drifting into her own flittering thoughts, and then — “Christ, Hopper! You scared the shit out of me!”

He would just appear out of thin air! As bizarre as it seemed, considering her parter-in-crime’s towering frame and broad shoulders, he had a way of dropping in completely unnoticed by her. On reflection, maybe she was just a little too wrapped up in her thoughts to realise; kind of a shitty quality for the self-proclaimed lookout to have.

On the days he jumped her, Joyce would smack Hopper square in the chest with a tiny balled-up fist. Hopper, without even flinching, would always laugh at that. That was another strange thing about remembering, realising that she hadn’t heard that deep, rumbling laughter in years. The thought made her heart ache.

“Gotta keep your eyes open, Joyce.” He’d warn jokingly.

She rolled her eyes at that, a playful smile tugging at her lips. She never realised back then how much he loved those moments, when she’d smile at him so sweetly. Perhaps part of her truly was playing up for the camera, but the fact that they never quite made it past ‘very good friends’ said otherwise. As he ducked under the steps to join her, Joyce threw one last glance over Hopper’s shoulder before her eyes were drawn to the pack of Camels he’d fished out from his back pocket.

Hopper barely had time to light the damn thing before Joyce would inevitably snatch the cigarette from between his teeth, taking a long slow drag before leisurely handing it back to him with a smug look plastered on her face. “So… Playing hooky again, Hop?”

It was one of their running jokes, the facade of obliviousness at each other’s constant presence and dedication to their shared smoke breaks. He’d always give her a look, halfway between amused and something else that she could never quite place, but he never said anything about it; Hopper just laughed, and plucked the cigarette from between her fingers, wading it between his teeth with a lazy smile. “I could ask you the same thing, myself.”

“Very funny.” She drawled, watching as a plume of smoke escaped his lips.

And that was how they would remain — most of the time, at least — exchanging friendly jabs at each other amidst the general silence. There was never really a need for words when they were together, Just the presence of each other was enough. And the shared pack of smokes, too. Sometimes she’d ask about his mom, then he’d ask about her dad. They’d laugh, sigh, and sink back into their comfortable silence before their stilted conversation would start all over again as if there hadn't been a ten minute lull that split their conversation right down the middle.

They’d just settled into one of their brief snippets of conversation, laughing quietly over some dumb story Hopper had recounted about something she couldn’t quite remember, when all of a sudden they were so rudely interrupted by exasperation at the youths of the generation turned to wrathful irritation.

“Hey, assholes!”

Joyce could have sworn she jumped a foot in the air at the sound of the booming voice that shook the once peaceful space in an instant. On that occasion, she’d instinctively grabbed the front of Hopper’s shirt and twisted it so tightly in her fist that, for the rest of the day, the fabric of his white shirt became hideously wrinkled just below the left armpit. Whipping her head around in one fluid motion, she caught a glimpse of an advancing Mr. Cooper brandishing a threatening fist as he came closer and closer. After a moment of fumbling, Joyce grabbed Hopper’s wrist with her free hand and jolted the cigarette from his fingers. “Run!”

And so they ran. She whisked Hopper away with a giddy peal of laughter as they dashed out from under the steps and tore down the paths towards the main buildings of the school. Not once did she relinquish her iron grip on Hopper’s wrist, nor did he as he twisted his hand to grab her own wrist in the midst of the chaos. Every now and then, when they came to a shuddering halt for a split second decision of which turn to take, his hand would come up and hover over her shoulder, poised to usher her forward if need be. And no matter how great his long strides were, she could always keep up.

Through twisting hallways and past silent classrooms they went, their footsteps clattering against the linoleum floor, unable to fight the euphoric whoops and frantic shushing that punctuated their sharp breaths. As lovely as the silence was, there was something so thrilling about the chase — tangled up in each other’s arms, huddling together in one useless hiding spot after the other — that brought the widest of smiles on both of their faces.

Joyce was almost winded by the force in which Hopper suddenly changed directions and pulled her into an empty classroom, slamming the door behind them with just a bit too much strength than was necessary. They pressed their faces to the small window in the door — Hopper’s chin digging into the top of Joyce’s head, their breaths fogging the window — in one last cautionary effort. It was only then, when they were satisfied that Mr. Cooper had given up the chase, that Joyce pried herself away from Hopper and fell to the ground with her back pressed up against the door. Her chest rose and fell with each gulping lungful of air, and she remembered thinking how she’d never ran so hard and fast in her life. “Holy shit…”

Hopper slumped to the ground next to her in an equally breathless state. For a moment, their eyes met and all of a sudden they were laughing again. They laughed, and laughed, and laughed until their cheeks hurt from smiling so brightly.

That was what they called ‘life-or-death’ back in the day. Simpler times.

After they’d finally calmed down and caught their breaths, Joyce vividly recalled the moment Hopper brought a hand down to squeeze her knee in playful reassurance before using it as a support to stand up on shaky legs. Yes, their friendship had always been something of a touchy one — with lingering hands on forearms, arms looped around shoulders and waists, and a playful shove or two — but she couldn’t quite stop thinking about just how warm his hands were when they caressed her skin. He must have said something to her when he offered her a hand, but she hadn’t heard it.

It was just a moment, one of many shared between them, that instantly passed as soon as Joyce had carefully tucked it away into a quiet corner of her mind for later contemplation that she never quite got to.

A moment quickly forgotten by the time Hopper had hauled her back on to her feet and caught her as she stumbled on the spot, laughing softly at the almost drunken wobbling that came with each step. And once again they’re pressed up against each other’s side arm in arm, somewhat lopsided due to the almost ridiculous height difference, stumbling out of the classroom on a mutual unspoken decision to skip the rest of the school day.

They could deal with the consequences of their antics tomorrow.

* * *

Most of their days weren’t so hectic or filled with brimming excitement that came with hallway chases and unquenchable laughter. Mostly it was just quiet chatter and prolonged silences that never lent itself to anything other than the closeness of their friendship.

And then there was one time, a time that felt like forever ago, when he’d leaned in and brushed his lips so softly against hers… Joyce had thought that he was going to tell her that he loved her. Strange, how clearly she could recall the smell of cigarette smoke on his breath, the closeness of their bodies, and the fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach. Something made him stop, pull away hesitantly with his gaze cast almost shamefully to the floor. I’m sorry, he’d said, best forget it. So she did, for a while, buried it away with all the other moments when he started seeing other girls and she started dating that scumbag Lonnie.

Now, however, she remembered it. And Joyce wondered if he did too.

#ems-writes #jopper #joyce byers #jim hopper #joyce x hopper #stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things fanfic #i have so many emotions abt their friendship #@ stranger things thank u for helping me crawl out of writers block

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losreviews · 6 years

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A Wandering Best Comics of 2017 List

Well hello! It’s this blog, the thing I put on hiatus in order to focus on my degree and then did not check into all year!

If you don’t follow me on any other social media, I have some good news: I have, in fact, finished my library degree! Goal accomplished! I’m in this funny place right now where I was working hard and was completely burned out, and then suddenly wasn’t working, and now I’m enjoying relaxing but also realizing I need to get back to a place where I can work on things again. Write things again. Be focused and productive and not on a mental vacation. Oof.

First, before getting to the fun stuff, I am going to officially announce that I won’t be formally returning to this blog. I may use it as a space to write reviews that are more serious than a quick goodreads review and not serious enough to fit with Women Write About Comics or another venue, but I’m not going to follow a this-many-a-month goal. I want to focus on other projects, so while this blog has served me well, I think I’ve found other ways to discover, support, and signal-boost diverse media that require I step aside from LOS Reviews.

That aside - year end lists! They can be fun! Last year I wrote about comics I love in which ladies smooch other ladies, but this year I am going to do something much more disorganized. A consequence of focusing heavily on school is that my to-read pile has become wild and unruly. As I let things I wanted to read pile up over the year, I did read a few things that were just too good or too exciting - or that I could easily access during a break. My #1 favorite thing that I read this year was Soolagna Majumdar’s Marge Simpson Anime zine, which I wrote about for WWAC’s Small Press Faves of 2017 list. In addition, here are some random titles that helped me stay afloat through a grueling final year of graduate school.

Print Comics

Nightlights by Lorena Alvarez

This big, gorgeous comic released by Nobrow Press contains some of the best art I was privileged to ogle in 2017. Sandy, a young artist, has the unique ability to bring the lush fantasy world of her mind to life. Or, perhaps, she can take aspects of her own imagination and gift them to existing magic within the world, and build a warm, vibrant, safe fantasy space. When the new girl at school takes dangerous interest in Sandy’s abilities, she must learn to own and harness her inner power. If, like me, you are feeling very burdened by work, know that this is a quick read meant for middle or elementary-aged readers. It’s sort of like coming across a stunningly delicious appetizer at a fancy party; it’s brief, but so good that you immediately want to eat another (or read it all over again.)

Space Battle Lunchtime Volume Two: A Recipe for Disaster by Natalie Riess

I reviewed volume one last year so I won’t spend much time giving you plot synopsis etc., but volume two came out this year and wraps up the story. I LOVE these comics; Riess creates a very pretty, kooky alien world in which each creature’s species-specific traits and personality feels immediately well-developed. Riess’ skillful use of visuals to give her characters - human and alien alike - unique personas appeals to me because I quickly feel exhausted when reading lengthy high fantasy that spends ages detailing all the aspects of a culture or society. This is really how I prefer to learn about an entirely made-up world: as quickly and efficiently as possible, with all emphasis on character development. These comics are light hearted, queer, action-filled and fun, Riess just knows how to press all my buttons!

The Lunch Witch by Deb Lucke

I read the first two (only two? no idea) volumes of this series this year, and IT IS SO FREAKING GREAT! The comics follow the spooky exploits of Grunhilda, an older witch who finds herself in need of a job, and ends up working as a lunch lady at a nearby elementary school. Grunhilda is NOT a good witch, or at least doesn’t intend to be, and she doesn’t really like children. The books are fairly dark for a middle grade series, excitingly creative - there’s a page that is actually burned and missing 1/4 of itself - and tackle morality and the value of helping others out of a sense of compassion and desire for companionship versus seeking selfish reward. They are fun, surprisingly deep, and supported by a really cool website that has things like recipes for Engorged-Tick Scones and a Bad Advice column! Love love love it.

So Pretty/So Very Rotten by Jane Mai and An Nguyen

I was lucky to randomly pick up the preview zine for this book at CAKE last year, and as a huge fan of Jane Mai’s comics - I maybe wrote an article about her that feels somewhat like an embarrassing love confessional - I was super excited for this book to come out! So Pretty/So Very Rotten is a mix of comics, essays and interviews about Lolita subculture, from the perspective of two Asian-North American cartoonists (I’m pretty sure Nguyen is Canadian? Correct me if I’m wrong, I have been known to not realize people were Canadian. See: Ellen Page) who either have been or still are very much participating in and deeply connected to Lolita. It is well-researched, accessible and totally engrossing. I am not a femme person and have been on a sort of slow burn, low-key journey in which I try to de-couple gender from clothing in order to feel more comfortable in how I present, and this book hit me at just the right moment. Through interviews and essays, Nguyen and Mai dive into how many view Lolita as a genderless (or perhaps gender-full?) exploration of the feelings the clothing can create both for individuals and communities. The comics get quite dark and often lean into the rottenness Lolita allows; in some ways, that rottenness feels like an opportunity to let the truth of the darkness of ourselves out, or to reveal how tough and ferocious those who dare to dawn frills truly are. I cannot recommend it enough.

Wuvable Oaf Volume 1 by Ed Luce

I purchase-requested this baby from the library and was deeply pleased when they bought it and when, recently, I saw that the cover was beat up a bit, indicating that I truly am not the only one who wanted it! Huzzah! I’ve been meaning to read Luce’s comic since I bought a Divine poster from him a couple CAKE’s ago, and it did not disappoint. This giant tome tells the story of Oaf, a hairy, scary-looking ex-wrestler who is in fact quite squishy, loves cats, and wants romance. It’s a gay subculture-y comic that is strange enough to border on being fantasy (Oaf can do some wild shit with his hair, and one of the cats SEES THINGS) and loaded full with comics/pop culture Easter eggs. The wrestling flashbacks are maybe the best bits, so I’m excited to get my hands on volume two, which looks more focused on the wrestling.

The Less than Epic Adventures of TJ & Amal + Five Years Ago and Three Thousand Miles Away by EK Weaver

OK confession: I read the webcomic and this was actually a reread prompted by my inability to walk past the big, gorgeous softcover collection on the Iron Circus table at C2E2. “I think it’s time I buy TJ & Amal” is I think exactly what I said to Spike Trotman, whose response was something like “of course it is!” (Shout out to Sheika Lugtu who was walking the floor with me and also was like, um yes, buy it, dummy.) I had not read the follow-up short comic previously, in which Weaver posits three possible endings for the boys, two of which keep them together, one in which they break up. It was a perfect, bittersweet tease/companion to a beautiful book about two queer men who kind of fall in love over the course of an emotionally tumultuous road trip. Weaver digs so deeply into her characters, exposing all their weaknesses, failings and fears, and watching these two boys who are strangers at the beginning of the story be completely vulnerable with each other is a gift. I often longingly look at the softcover on my bookshelf and consider rereading it, only to remind myself that no, I need to finish that paper! Except I don’t now, because I did finish school... hmm...

Tabula Idem: A Queer Tarot Comic Anthology edited by Iris Jay and Hye M

I’ve been working through some kickstarter rewards I haven’t yet had time to read, so because I’ve got this big pile I’ve of course had some mediocre reading experiences and some surprisingly stunning ones. This anthology falls into the latter category; while I was interested in it enough to fund the kickstarter, I didn’t expect to love it so deeply upon reading. I only just became interested in tarot this year and there’s so much to learn, but Tabula Idem felt like a perfect way to start considering how to interpret cards on my own, and how to go beyond what might be traditional readings and factor in aspects that account for being a queer person. Each story in the anthology focuses on one aspect of a Major Arcana tarot card, and they range across genres with queer and trans characters of all kinds of identities. I read a lot of anthologies and sometimes they can feel tedious, but this one slowed me down and made me savor each tale, wanting to experience the affect each artist pulled out of each card.

Girls’ Last Tour by Tsukumizu

I’m pretty sure this manga series was recommended to me by the inimitable Claire Napier, and I did not expect to love it as deeply as I do. In this time of high-energy, high-action, sometimes trashy but generally fun dystopian literature, Tsukumizu offers a slow, gay, philosophical exploration of a post-apocalyptic world in which mammoth city structures vastly outnumber humans. The young girl protagonists initially are unsure if they are the only humans left in their world, and slowly make their way through a strange, towering, layered city largely in search of food so that they can continue to survive. They contemplate the value of being alive and sometimes ask big questions, but also generally enjoy each other’s company, get excited about rare opportunities to take warm baths, and recall distant memories or known concepts from the pre-apocalyptic world. It’s definitely not a series for everyone as the pacing is so slow, but Tsukumizu’s rendering of the very tall, very brutalistically designed city is engrossing and makes the pacing worth it. Really, it’s a story about two girls asking deep questions and pondering them over an unlimited amount of time, and that feels just right.

Princess Jellyfish by Akiko Higashimura

I think I started reading this series last year but really got into it this year; I binged volumes 4, 5, and 6 in a single night, and 7 is currently waiting for me in my backpack. It’s kind of the antithesis of Girls’ Last Tour in that the tone is always frantic and wild, in accordance with the high energy of the otaku girls the series celebrates. I love that Higashimura offers up a variety of characters who are obsessed with different things - I always think of mega nerdy people as being into things like games and comics, but of course Tsukimi is a jellyfish otaku. Kuranosuke’s character development has been particularly interesting, as he becomes a sort of emotional-connection otaku, obsessed both with pursuing a fashion career that allows him to submerge himself in the feminine clothing that connects him to his mother and won his heart at a young age, and with being emotionally tied to a group of friends who are actually passionate about things. (We get some glimpses of Kuranosuke’s other friends and they all seem pretty shallow.) The series is very fun, and I love Higashimura’s autobio author comics in which she basically exposes lots of embarrassing things about herself and how nerdy she is.

Webcomics

I read a LOT of webcomics and several ongoing series that I’ve been reading for eons have been faithful comforts this year, including Strong Female Protagonist, Gunnerkrigg Court, Questionable Content and Monster Pulse. I wanted to talk about some comics I don’t think I’ve ever plugged before, so these in theory are all things I started reading this year.

Manners’ Magical Monster School by Jessica and Jacinta Wibowo

This cute comic follows Wilbur, the lone human at a magic school for monsters, and his roommate, Amira, who’s big secret is that she is a demon. The pair are a sort of odd-couple; Wilbur is a sweet, chubby kid who got bullied before the frankly terrifying Amira became his best bud, while Amira is an over-confident punk who isn’t super great at having feeeeeelings. I first discovered Jes n Cin via their webcomic Tales from the Well, which is also very good, but is a bit more serious in tone. I particularly like the coloring - it’s all this warm, sort of watercolor-ish wash (I have no idea what materials they actually use, sorry!) and always look forward to the next update.

Barbarous by Yuko Ota and Ananth Hirsh

I am fairly certain I’ve raved about how much I love the Johnny Wander autobio comics before, but Yuko and Ananth’s forays into fiction are always fantastic and I am especially in love with Barbarous. The series’ protagonist is Percy, a magic-user who was studying magic but maybe dropped out of school (there was some kind of mysterious incident that pushed her to start couch-surfing around) and is sort of OK at using it but also still has a lot to learn. She is hired to do maintenance work by mysterious but classy landlord Cecillia, and her immediate supervisor, Leeds, is a sort of blunt but kind... giant dinosaur? He’s very cute. Anyway, Yuko and Ananth are building a cool magical world that is close to our own but also includes lots of really great, modern fashion/costuming. Percy and Leeds’ friendship is like a baby goat or a calf; its legs are not strong and it stumbles a lot, but it’s really cute. I love it.

Quiet Brain! by Samantha Davies

This isn’t so much a comic as it is a series of illustrations of adorable, sort of anthropomorphic animals saying inspiring, sometimes kinda brutally honest and deep shit. I read nearly all of them in one go on a long train ride and while I’m normally not the kind of person who is into like, inspirational feminist cross stitches and shit like that, something about this struck a chord. Davies has a panel-less comic called Stutterhug that is all about movement, emotion and moments of connection between (anthropomorphic animal) creatures. Quiet Brain! emphasizes how skilled the artist is at communicating emotion through facial expressions; it’s a simple thing that I didn’t know I needed until I read it.

Ascent by Kevin Lam

I’ve been reading this series since probably before 2017, but I found this year that I particularly looked forward to the new comics. Ascent is, simply, the story of a diver lost in the sea, making a mostly lonely journey to the surface. Given an endless amount of time to contemplate general concepts about life, the diver does so. They consider the purpose of making a journey that may never yield a successful end, the point of accepting a friend that literally attaches themself to you - it’s a very cute baby squid - and the merit of just giving into exhaustion. Retrospectively, I think this comic really embedded itself into my psyche this year because my graduate school journey felt similar. I climbed up several difficult hills which were small enough that I could see the top, but knew another hill awaited me. Recently there have been some spooky happenings in the comic, and I’m excited to see where Lam takes the diver next.

Girls Have a Blog by Sarah Bollinger and Tara Kurtzhals

I don’t actually read this creator pair’s main comic, but I’ve really enjoyed this autobio dive into their post-art school life, trying to make comics as a career work. They go through many ups and downs but perhaps uniquely do much of it together, and the act of processing both with each other and via comic is very satisfying. I especially enjoyed the arc where Tara found herself unable (emotionally) to attend a school reunion, because I found myself in the same position when my five year college reunion happened last summer. Often relatable but perhaps foremost a look into how making life work as a freelance cartoonist is TOUGH, this is some really enjoyable autobio! I’m excited for season two to start in 2018.

Everything Shing Yin Khor makes

OK so Shing has some webcomic short stories and projects going on, but I wanted to do kind of a blanket shout-out because I’ve enjoyed everything she’s shared this year, from her delightful watercolor comics to her installation work. I first encountered Shing when I picked up the Blood Root horror anthologies she produced out of Sawdust Press, and reviewed the third issue in one of my first ever pieces for WWAC. This year I was surprisingly and suddenly blessed to briefly attend the American Library Association conference, and the highlight was meeting Shing in person. She was there promoting her graphic memoir The American Dream? A Journey on Route 66 which Zest Books will release in February 2018, and it was such a delightful meeting that I re-engaged with her other work. Whether it’s building art installations and twitter bots that use oracles and fortune telling to explore kindness, or watercoloring stunning sci fi/fantasy worlds that contemplate workplace dynamics, immigration and travel, everything Shing creates takes on a journey that tilts your perspective, makes you gasp in wonder, and gives you a hug. If I were to make a list of creators whose work I’m super excited about in the coming years - it would be a very long list, and honestly I’m sort of constantly making that list through my critical/review work - Shing would be at the top. Funding her patreon will ensure you keep up with all her incredible creations.

2017 was certainly a year but there is always great art coming of the indie self-pub world. I will do my best to keep you informed about all of it.

#Webcomic review #comic review #best of 2017

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themanicgalaxy · 3 years

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SPN 5X16 Dark Side of the Moon

KITTY IS SNUGGLING MY INJURED FOOT

BABY

oo samulet time

gun being pointed at them...?

DEAN KNOWS THEM?

ah hunters

I keep forgetting they started the apocalypse

...sam got shot?

ooo they're getting street cred "knowing Dean Winchester's on our ass" nicenice

"when I come back" ope

is that fucking knocking on heaven's door

oh OH IT'S HEAVEN SCENES

OH DEAN'S HEAVEN IS HIM AND HIS BROTHER AND THE FUCKING FIREWORKS

AND TAKING CARE OF HIS LITTLE BROTHER

aw baby Sam looks so happy

fuck me

oh the PTSD got to him

HE"S THE RADIO!

CAS THE RADIO!!!

oh he thinks he's dreaming at first ouch

"I'm dead" "condolences" CAS OH MY GOD

"how am i in heaven" ouch

oh the SKYYY IS SO COOL

boy them being the same age but being placed in their younger selves is Unsettling sometimes

why do yall hate sam so much oh my god

they're so confused

they're BOTH "you I get but me" OH MY GOD

Dean stop covering up your feelings

"we had thanksgiving every year" aw Dean

"I can't return to heaven" cAS? THAT FEELS IMPORTANT?

the two road asphalt road that leads you to Eden is so fucking cool though

either god doesn't want to be found, or heaven doesn't want to be leaved

this is NEAT

oh god and Dean being the only one of the two that remember home

"It wasn't perfect till after she died" oh my GOD

He mythologized mary oh my GOD I HATE THIS

DEAN WAS LIKE THREE OR FOUR

AND HE COMFORTS HIS GODDAMN MOM I HATE THIS

"how long you've been cleaning up dad's messes" OUCHHH

oo and they have to find the road

Dean's are all tinged with regret and responsibility

and Sam's are escape

the half smile and the implied "dad beat me up" jesus CHRIST

nooo I LOVE BONES

oh Sam tried to not think about it

"night you ditched us for stanford" oh dear lord

and Sam got...none of the fun family stuff

estranged fucking siblings oh this HURTS ME

~running from an angel. on foot. in heaven.~ LMAOOO

listen he's fun when he's smug smug villains are fun

AS H!

OH M Y GOD IT'S THE GODDAMN ROADHOUSE

ah everyone's heaven, o that's kinda neat tho

"disneyland but without all the antisemitism" AHAHA

soulmates...why was that awkward

he's just vibing in other people's heaven's i love this

anD HE'S FLUENT IN ENOCHIAN

again

"you boys die more than anyone I've ever met" oh my FUCKING CHRIST I LOVE THAT

Ellen and Jo :(

PAMELA!

*smacks him for getting her killed*

"we got ash killed too" "I'm cool with it" "he's cool with it" oh my god

heh Pamela's having fun in Heaven too

HEAVEN'S LONELY! IT'S NICE BUT IT'S LONELY

DEAN's FUCKING CONFUSED STARE WAS SO FUNNY THOUGH

he's so shook it's very funny

"I'm sure I'll see you again soon" AHAHA

ah yes the wink I see you've composed yourself

"I never loved you" oh jesus

that's the thing he's sensitive about

huh that sounds like something Sam would say huh :(

"everybody leaves you Dean" oh you BET he's noticed

this is very strange

"she's quite the milf" what the hell

what the Hell

I appreciate how he got assigned the winchesters and he fucking failed

in your defense, they're very stubborn

"he may be strong ... but I'm petty" LMAO

ah the garden

sup joshua

"cleveland botanical gardens"

AW A FIELD TRIP

"he knows, he doesn't think it's his problem" uh

...you can't find god

yep God's a deadbeat

...so Sam's the main character? guys...guys give him dialogue oh my god

"I'm rooting for you but I can't help"

this time you have to remember

boy that is a lot of beer

oh good now Cas gets to be existential too!

instantly "you son of a bitch"

here dean take ur amulet back

Sam tries the pep talk

it's a tough crowd

OH NOO THE SAMULET

wrap up

1. Sam. Sam's heaven is escaping, getting away from an overbearing family. I think he doesn't have a good sense of self because he hasn't been allowed to develop one, really, and he wants it. Also that makes him hard to make a main character, but that means the writers don't like him

how the fuck did you set up a main character and then hate him because you're projecting on your secondary protagonist so hard, how did you do that

HE'S THE ANTICHRIST HOW DID YOU-

2. Dean. ok. So. Dean's things centered around family, but importantly, they were all bittersweet. "dad would never let us" "dad still loves you" Dean has Very Severe Daddy Issues, as we know, and it's clear that they're everywhere. But due to the responsibility, it was a lot better when they lived in a stable goddamn house, so I think that's what he ended up mythologizing. also very clear abandonment issues, as he got blamed for everything due to stepping up as the oldest both in an absent dad, and dead mom scenario. as little of a personality that Sam was allowed to develop, Dean is still in this kind of panicked survival mode, and he really has no idea what the fuck he's doing. or so I think. he hates himself because he made himself to be what others wanted/needed.

I can't believe that implied abuse line was this early and they still tried to martyr John like...

3. Ash! Pamela! I liked that Ash keeps greeting the winchesters, I love Pamela being there, i liked the whole like...they vibe in heaven, but Ash, with knowing Heaven stuff and Smart Person stuff and hunter stuff, figured out how to jump, i love everyone's little slice of heaven. Listen, recognizing recurring characters is nice

4. THE VIBE. Ok...asphalt road to the garden. Several different heavens? the angels having complete dominion and them basically quietly fighting over it? Cas only being able to talk either on radio or TV because he's a wavelength? GOOD SHIT

HELL EVEN THE GARDEN BEING WHATEVER THE PERSON THINKS IT IS IS COOL

5. Needledrop: this one was so fun. knocking on heaven's door to introduce the fact that they're now in heaven. I thought that was fun.

6. Cas/faith. Like...God as an explicit Deadbeat, as the "it's not my problem, Dean sympathizing with Cas because of it, throwing away the amulet at the end.

Dean's the faithless man and Cas is the angel, but they have no more faith anymore. They have been disappointed once again, and it's Pretty Big, and bringing yourself up is hard.

also this episode had some genuinely funny moments

#Art encompasses all human life #but the only things worth anything is suffering #pawswatchesspn #5x16 Dark Side of the Moon #listen I can't be the only one that thinks that while hbo supernatural would have been like #possibly actually good tv #stuff that's R can sometimes ignore the fun/funny/levity parts in their pacing #and make it a slog #Listen this is totally brought to you by english class constantly batting me over the head with #but like...being forced to add some levity #or think of creative workaround to something traumatic #like I think it helps in some cases #in case I didn't make it clear #I loved this shit #dream sequences humor and Trauma Exploration #literally what's not to love

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britesparc · 6 years

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Weekend Top Ten #339

Top Ten Things to Remember About TF Nation 2018

It’s been a fortnight, by the time you’re both reading this, since I was at TF Nation. In that time a lot has happened. Well, not a lot a lot. I’ve zipped about the country a little bit. It’s nearly time for school to start. I’ve made about six different promos. So some stuff has happened.

Anyway, I'm finally ready to talk about it. I’ll be posting pictures this weekend too (hopefully they’ll be up by now). It was a strange TFN for me in a number of ways, and I'm going to self-indulgently reflect on that.

Normally I drive from My Home in The North, down the M6 to Brum, and get to the Hilton Metropole around late-afternoonish on the Friday. Dump my stuff in my room, head out for a mooch, check out the Friday night festivities, hopefully catch up with friends in the bar, and try to get a relatively early night to feel rested not just for the first full day of the con but also for the inevitable Long One on Saturday night. But a couple of things were different this year. For one, I was working in London, so I caught the train from Euston instead, and go to the hotel quite early. For another, I had what we in the trade refer to as a Minging Cold and felt Proper Rotten. So apologies to anyone who I gave my lurgy to. Anyway, an upshot of this is that I didn’t feel too much like hanging out in the bar or really being all that sociable. I think if D.C. Douglas hadn't been doing his excellent Erotic Fan-Fiction Show on Friday night I'd probably have just hidden in my room to play Civilization VI on my own. But I really didn’t want to miss Chase from Rescue Bots delivering a bit of late night smut, and I’m glad I stuck it out, because it was fantastic.

Although I always love TFN the holy-cow-wow factor from my first con visit a few years ago waxes and wanes. This year I knew I wasn’t looking for any toys so I didn’t engage quite as strongly with the vendors. And I still felt crap for most of Saturday, popping back to my room a couple of times for a rest, and taking a long walk back into the NEC to try to find some drugs. Fortunately, the addition of concentrated Lemsip to my system gave me sufficient strength to power through the afternoon, and by the evening’s festivities I was feeling much, much better. The Stan Bush concert was incredible, and I spent the rest of my time in the bar, chatting to friends old and new.

Sunday, by contrast, was a hardscrabble day of running around and trying to get everything signed by the guests, as I’d squandered Saturday on feeling poorly and taking it easy. But I spoke to everyone and got all the signatures I wished, even if I was trying To Be Good and not spend several hundred pounds on artwork. But I did, at least, get a beautiful Spiderling picture from Nick Roche, which will eventually hang on my daughter’s wall.

So anyway, it was a really cool convention, but it felt slightly disjointed and I left with a melancholy feeling. I think a lot of that was due to me being away from home, and spending the weekend I'd have ordinarily used to go back and see my family at TFN instead. Plus, as is always the case with these things, I like chatting to people more than mooching and purchasing, and there just isn’t enough time, especially when you’re friends with the creators themselves. But it was great. I love TFN, it’s one of the highlights of my year. I hope I can go again next year; obviously it’s an expense, but more than that it’s time out during the summer holidays and time away from my kids. It's always going to be a tough decision, at least til they’re old enough to want to come with me (I don’t think they’ll be staying up till 2am discussing celebrity sex abusers for quite some time, however).

Here, then, are my favourite bits. Or at least the bits that have hung around my memory most powerfully. Cheers, TFN, and thanks loads to everyone involved in the organising.

Stan Bush: “I would have waited an eternity for this,” said Nick Roche when introducing him, and I think he meant it (although it does sound suspiciously like a line from a film. Lord of the Rings, maybe?). Mr Bush did not disappoint. Quintessential 80s rocking, with lots of implied slow-motion montages. Music to drive motorbikes to as the sun goes down over the naval base. It was amazing.

Saturday Night: Like I said, I spent the rest of Saturday night with friends in the bar. It was great fun, and really affirmed my love of the convention, and of Transformers fans in general. Everyone just seems so chill, and all on the same page, just sharing in their love of the franchise and its associated art. I’ve been very lucky to get on friendly terms with various Transformers creators over the years; I hope by calling them my friends I'm not overstepping any boundaries and coming across like some weird stalker. I really like these guys, and chatting to them is an annual highlight. Wish it could happen more often.

Sunday Afternoon: I normally leave fairly sharpish, to be honest, once the con winds down, but with no real hurry to get home (no excited children waiting for me, alas) I hung about a bit longer, and sampled some of the famous Sunday night vibe. I was chatting with a different set of friends, people I see at the Travelling Man store in Manchester, and it was a really nice come down after the highs of Saturday night. I can see why people like staying Sunday night, and not just out of a desire to make TFN last as long as possible.

The Lost Light Love-In: I love Lost Light, and the final (?) TFN panel dedicated to the book was a delight. Revelations, discarded plots, behind-the-scenes info, some subtle teases; it was everything a fan could desire. But the real takeaway was the display of friendship between writer James Roberts and artist Jack Lawrence. It was so, so cool that these two old buds got to make a comic together based on one of their favourite things in the world, and that we all got to read it. It was the perfect, bittersweet end to a long and lovely ride.

An Annie for Annie: my kids might not have read a lot of comics but at the end of the day, most kids still love Spider-Man. My youngest is called Annie; Spider-Man's daughter is called Annie in Spider-Man: Renew Your Vows; the artist of Spider-Man: Renew Your Vows is Nick Roche; Nick was at TFN. It's not hard to get from one thing to the other, and now I have a really great Spiderling picture. I'm hoping it’s something Annie (my Annie, the IRL Annie) will cherish as she gets older. And don’t worry about my eldest, she’s already got three Nick Transformers headshots.

Filth: I’d heard of, but didn’t really know much about, D.C. Douglas’s “Erotic (Zombie-Related) Fan-Fiction" show. I’m not a big Resident Evil fan so I’m almost entirely unfamiliar with his work as Albert Wesker; as far as I’m concerned he’s Chase from Transformers: Rescue Bots. But he’s funny on Twitter so I thought this would be funny too, and quite frankly who wouldn’t want to go see something about erotic fiction at a Transformers convention? Anyway, it didn’t disappoint; it was hilarious and proper mucky. Kudos to the organisers for putting it on, because it’s not the sort of thing I've seen at TFN before. The icing on the cake was the fact that I got to go up on stage and take part, although I reckon my bits could have been dirtier. So to speak.

Blimey!: there was a period of my life when I was probably just as excited for the Combat Colin strip in Transformers as I was by the ongoing story of those robots in disguise themselves. So to finally meet Colin’s creator, Lew Stringer, and get an original Semi-Automatic Steve sketch, was marvellous. I really wish I'd had more time to chat to him, though; he’s a font of knowledge about British comics and their history, and more than that, he was a massive influence on me, my artwork, and my writing. It’s funny sometimes, when you think back, the things that shaped you creatively. Combat Colin is, I think even Lew would admit, fairly niche in terms of popular culture, but the books I’m writing at the moment owe just as much to the adventures of Colin, Steve, the Giggly Sisters, Megabrain, Madprof, Combat Kate and the rest, as they do to the various superhero writers and great novelists that I've cribbed from disgracefully over the years.

Where it All Began: I started collecting Transformers with issue 11 of the UK comic. The lead story in that issue – “Man of Iron” – was illustrated by Mike Collins. Mike was at the convention, and he signed my VERY FIRST ISSUE OF TRANSFORMERS EVER. I mean, how cool is that? Like with Lew, though, I didn’t have much chance to speak to him unfortunately, and I never managed to get an original sketch either. Hopefully he’ll be back!

Those Wonderful Toys: I didn’t really buy anything this year. Most years I either get myself something or at least pick up a couple of small things for the girls. But I knew I was spending more on artwork than usual, plus in general I just wanted to be more frugal, so I didn’t want to go flinging money on “Plastic Crack”. The only thing I really, really wanted was a Power of the Primes Rodimus Prime, which comes with a little Hot Rod that you can combine with his “trailer”, Powermaster Optimus Prime style, to turn into Rodimus. Rodimus, of course, is my favourite character, and this was a gimmick I came up with myself when I was a little kid, so of course I was super excited at the prospect. I think I saw one, briefly, on Saturday morning, but that was it: one. And it was gone so quickly I began to doubt myself. Anyway, with my One True Love not being present, buying toys was kind of an afterthought, but all the same: I love looking at them. Especially the third-party/custom jobs they have in the Forge. The huge Optimus was terrific, but I especially loved the life-size (well, human-sized, I guess) Optimus rifle. They should sell that thing at Toys R Us! Oh...

Geoffrey and Helpers: speaking of TRU (RIP), cosplay. Cosplay is Gold at TFN. This year was no exception. Utterly fantastic Vortex, Functionist Council, humanised Rodimus and Magnus, and loads more besides... it was great, really great. The sheer scale of the undertaking, the finesse, the performances: hats off to you, one and all. But the icing on the cake, for me at least, was the guy who dressed up as Geoffrey from the Toys R Us adverts, except wearing an Infinity Gauntlet. I mean, come on. That’s just incredible.

So there you have it: TF Nation 2018. It was a very emotional experience for me this year. Really, really cool. I do love it. I hope I can go to one of the meet-ups, especially if they have one in the north. And I hope I get to see people in between now and next year, too. Having said that, for a variety of reasons I’m thinking I might give next year a miss, or maybe just go for one day or something.

Unless they get Judd Nelson as a guest. Or anyone else from Rescue Bots. Or Peter Cullen. Or if they have a Weird Al Yankovic concert. Or if they do a huge “End of IDW (version 1.0)” retrospective. Or if they have all the new creators. Or...

Jesus, it never ends.

#top ten #tf nation #tfn #transformers #convention #comics #IDW Publishing #toys #hasbro

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