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star--joy · 9 months

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Inspire

Vex doesn't understand why Percy keeps giving her arrows, but she's sure there's some ulterior motive to the whole ordeal.

Prompt: “You really inspire me.” (creativepromptsforwriting.tumblr.com/post/673924497584291840)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: Arguments

Words: 1644

Originally posted: 8/11/23

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49274167

The first arrow was a simple thing.

Well, that’s not true. The first arrow was complex in construction, delicate and complicated enough that it kept Percy tinkering for weeks. Crafting one that explodes upon impact is no small feat. In that way, it hadn’t been simple at all.

Perhaps a better way to phrase it is this: the first arrow was nothing important.

Yes, Vex was pleased to have such a weapon at her disposal, and yes, she was flattered that Percy spent so much time creating it, but that was it. A small gift between friends.

Except not much time passed before the second arrow was presented to her. Similar to the first, but more fine-tuned, according to Percy.

Well, fine. Vex can handle that. She knows how their gunslinger likes to perfect his inventions, to improve them until they can’t be anymore. That’s what she’d assumed it was. He’d simply wanted to create it for his own benefit.

The third arrow, yet another advancement, was considered the same.

Sometime around the fourth one, however, Vex hears a warning bell sound off in a deep corner of her mind.

“It’s a siege arrow,” Percy explains, ignorant to her sudden caution as he hands her the weapon. “Maybe now we’ll have more luck getting through doors.”

“Indeed,” she hums, testing the feel and weight of it, though her mind is elsewhere. “Thank you, Percy. I have to say, you’ve been spoiling me with all these gifts.”

The unspoken question of why hangs over her head, but apparently, it goes unheard to the gunslinger. He just grins. “Yes, well. I do hope you enjoy them.”

And then, just like that, he’d walks away. Vex watches his retreating form, lip caught between her teeth, before retreating back to her room for a night’s rest. Sleep does not come easy as she ponders the motives of his kindness.

The fifth, sixth, and seventh arrows come and go, each one sparking more confusion in Vex. Barely a week ever goes by without a new creation finding its way into her hands, and a part of her is going mad with it. If he wants something so desperately, why doesn’t he just come out and ask? Percy never struck her as particularly manipulative, at least to his friends, so why the fuck is he desperately trying to suck up to her?

Perhaps he had done something terrible, and this is his way of apologizing. Yet even then, Vex can’t figure out what he might have done to warrant such profuse gifting.

Well, she’s done with it. No more beating around the bush. Steps firm and steady, she finds herself marching down to his workshop, fully intending to put this whole ordeal to an end.

Percy meets her halfway down the stairs, another fucking arrow in his hands. “Oh, Vex, I was just about to come find you,” he says.

Vex looks down at the arrow in his hands, looks up at his proud expression, then grabs him by the collar of his soot-covered work shirt and drags him down into the workshop once more. Percy yelps. “What in the hells—?”

“What are you playing at?” Vex demands, all her careful composure thrown out with the force of her frustration. “What’s the goal here? And don’t lie to me, Percival. I’m not in the mood.”

Slowly, he reaches up to fix his shirt collar from where Vex had snatched it. “I’m afraid I don’t follow. Have I done something?”

“You know what I’m talking about! What do you want? Money, is that it? You want me to be looser with your funds? Fucking— fine! Here,” she snarls, unclipping her personal coin purse and chucking it at his feet. The anger coursing through her is more potent than it’s been in years, boiling her very blood in a way that’s almost alarming. Percy has no right to play her for a fool. Vex thought he’d respected her more than that, but apparently she was wrong, and it fucking hurts.

Percy stares at the coin purse on the ground, mouth open and eyes wide. “Vex, I— are you alright?” He’s stepping closer, arrow still in hand but long-forgotten.

“I’m fine. Take your money. And next time, just ask. Don’t play these games with me.” Her voice is wavering and she hates it, hates how much she cares.

“What in Pelor’s name are you talking about?!” he asks, sounding so genuinely baffled that it gives her pause. Then, “Vex’ahlia… Vex, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Teeth grinding together, Vex snaps, “The fucking arrows, Percy! I don’t appreciate your bribery.”

Percy looks at her, looks at the arrow in his hand, looks at the coin pouch on the ground. His face twists, but not with guilt or anger. Instead, he just adopts the expression of a kicked puppy, all furrows and pouted lips. “Bribery? That’s what you think I’m doing?”

“You’re denying it?” Vex asks, arms crossing over her chest as if that could shield her from the way his sadness is wringing her heart.

His mouth opens and closes several times. Slowly, he picks up the coin purse and hands it back to her. “I apologise. I hadn’t realised that you— that I was giving that impression.”

Vex twitches. She couldn’t have been wrong. What other reason would he have to be so fucking kind to her? And, Gods above, if she is wrong, then why is he handling it like this? “What impression were you trying to give, then?”

Percy’s hand ruffles through his hair. When he speaks, it’s little more than a murmur. “It’s— I spent a long time creating things out of anger, Vex. Horrible things that I had no right to invent.” It’s clear that each of his words is chosen with a great deal of thought. He won’t look at her.

Stepping forward, Vex lets her hands uncross from her chest and fall to her side. “So, what, is this some kind of penance? Your way of apologizing?”

His jaw flexes. “No. It’s more selfish than that, I’m afraid. I… when I made the things I did, the firearms, I was inspired by rage. When I make arrows for you, it’s different. Rage isn’t my inspiration.”

“What is?” she asks, breath held.

He looks up at her, all gentle and sad. “You are. You really inspire me to create something better. To be something better.”

Oh.

Vex swallows, breaking his gaze to stare at the arrow in his hand. Her heart withers with guilt as the reality of the situation sinks in. Gods, she’d been screaming at him, accusing him of such terrible things, when his whole motivation was that? “I’m— Fuck, I’m such a dick. I’m sorry,” she whispers, burying her face in her hands.

“No, I’m sorry. I should have been more clear with my intentions—”

“Shut up, you did nothing wrong. I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, why I assumed—”

“Nothing is wrong with you, Vex’ahlia,” Percy interjects, voice still quiet, but with a firm, passionate undertone. His footsteps approach, and then his hands are gently pulling hers away from her face, exposing her distressed expression. “Of all people, I understand not knowing what to do with kindness.”

Vex breathes in, inhaling his unique scent of soap and metal. He’s very close, and she feels utterly exposed to his eyes, but it’s not such a horrible feeling when he understands. “Percy… do you still want to make the arrows? I understand if you don’t, but… I really do love them.”

His lips curve into a smile. “I’ll make as many as you want.”

And then, somehow, their lips are connecting. Vex doesn’t who leaned in for the kiss first, or if they were both in sync, but either way, it’s wonderful. Soft and slow, like nothing she’s ever experienced.

Her hand finds purchase on the back of his neck, idly stroking through the baby hairs there, smiling against his lips when he melts into her touch. His own hand is on the small of her back, holding her close to him, thumb rubbing mindless patterns.

“That was…” Percy whispers when they finally break apart for air, coming to rest their foreheads together. “Wonderful.”

Vex laughs, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Agreed. Do you think you can pull yourself away from the workshop for the rest of the day? I would like to spend some time apologizing for… everything. I really am sorry.”

“I’ve already forgiven you, Vex.”

“I’d still like to make it up to you. However you like. Besides, I’m not exactly getting the short end of the stick here, darling. Your company is a lovely bonus.”

Percy’s throat bobs. “I would enjoy a dinner with you, if you’re offering. But I don’t want you to do it as a payment, or an apology.”

Vex sighs, pushing through her instincts in order to be honest, peel back some of her armor, exposing her vulnerable underside. “That’s not what this is. Not in your case, anyway. I… I care for you, Percy, and I am going to keep apologizing for a little while, because I feel really fucking bad. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t also enjoy a dinner together. Genuinely”

His smile is radiant as he leans down to kiss her once more, if briefly. “Alright. I’ll ask Laina to cook something for us. There’s not much privacy to be had in the dining room, but we’ll make do—”

“Oh, don’t be silly. My room is big enough for us both. Meet me there with the food, yeah? Don’t keep me waiting,” Vex hums, pressing one last teasing kiss to the corner of Percy’s lips, quite enjoying his blush as she flutters out of his workshop.

She’s sure of one thing: this is going to be a lovely dinner.

#critical role #vex'ahlia #perc'ahlia #percy de rolo #percival de rolo #percahlia #vexahlia #vex #bad news bears #Percy de rolo #tlovm #the legend of vox machina #lovm #legend of vox machina #cr c1

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siriusheadspace · 4 years

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illicit affairs - sirius black x reader

Warnings: angst, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!!)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: You and Sirius start seeing each other in secret around Hogwarts since his best friend Remus has a crush on you, but is too shy to act on it. Inspired by "Illicit Affairs", by Taylor Swift.

A/N: God, all of a sudden I developed this hyper fixation with Sirius. I got a bunch of ideas for stories with him (and all of them inspired by songs lol) but this was the one that felt more structured. I haven't written in a while and English is not my first language so be kind lol

Words: 2k ish

Make sure nobody sees you leave Hood over your head Keep your eyes down

You could swear the entire Hogwarts castle heard your hitched breath while you tried to make your way to the Gryffindor tower as silently as possible. Sirius was the one to leave first this time, heading for his dormitory while you had to count to 300 - you forgot your watch this time. You were sure it was his time to wait, but you didn't contradict him after he zipped his pants, gave you one last rough kiss, and said "Later, then?".

Tell your friends you're out for a run You'll be flushed when you return

It took some time to develop this relationship to the point where you didn't have to talk and check each other's stories to avoid being caught. You knew your friends and roommates didn't believe you were risking getting caught and losing house points just for a night walk around the castle, but they gave up on you telling them who you were seeing.

Take the road less traveled by Tell yourself you can always stop

It started last year, in your sixth year in Hogwarts. You always had a crush on Sirius, but that's not uncommon - nearly every girl on your year couldn't help falling for his long, silky hair, his gray eyes, his long, yet toned body, and, of course, his devil may care attitude. But he never really paid attention to you, just some light flirting in a party at the Gryffindor common room one time; you were pretty sure he didn't know your name. But it changed last year. You can't quite point to when, exactly, you noticed the Marauders would go quiet once you walked by. But it got to the point where you would always notice. You'd pass by them on purpose, flattered by the attention Black was finally giving you. But you didn't notice that it was his friend, Remus, that gave you the most passionate looks.

What started in beautiful rooms Ends with meetings in parking lots

At a party right after a Quiddich match, you decided you would do something about it and give Sirius the chance to make a move. You took hours getting ready, borrowed a dress from a friend, the cleavage more revealing than anything else you ever wore, the fire whiskey burning your throat and your shyness. Once you came down the stairs, you could feel the glances at you, running up and down your body, another rush to add to the whiskey and to boost your confidence. Your friend group was close to the Marauders and you thanked the gods for it. You were all dancing together, and Remus excused himself after a few songs - you later figured he might be trying to get confident enough to make a move - once Sirius perfume got to you. Sandalwood, something citric and tobacco, all mixed to intoxicate you. You started dancing closer to him, and, in a spike of lust, grabbed his hand and went to an empty room. He looked confused but didn't complain when you pushed him against the wall and kissed him fervently. You felt his smirk, his excitement, once he pushed you back against a table and pulled your legs around him so he could lift you and sit you on it. He only stopped to catch his breath once you were panting and pulling his lower lip between your teeth. You felt like a goddess when his long fingers explored your body, lingering on your exposed curves. You unbuttoned his shirt while he unzipped your dress, and, without giving it a second thought, with a spark of pain between all the pleasure, you had your first time with the infamous Sirius Black.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs And clandestine meetings And longing stares

When you were finished, the combination of soreness and embarrassment started to make your chest heavy - the first time of many. Sirius was a gentleman, though, helping you fix yourself enough so it wasn’t obvious that you were doing what you just did, not commenting on the blood, or when your nails pressed against the skin of his shoulders out of pain. You felt his stares during the next few weeks, trying to find a way of talking to him and meet him again, maybe on a date, something more romantic than snogging on dark, empty classrooms. One night, you were reading in the common room and noticed him alone, leaning against the wall, close to the portrait of the Fat Lady. Once he felt your eyes on him, he left the room, and you felt a rush, getting up, counting to ten, and following him to another empty classroom, where he quickly took your book off your hands and moved them to his neck.

It's born from just one single glance But it dies, and it dies, and it dies A million little times

You were anxious to repeat his steps, standing against the wall, waiting for him to look at you. But he sure followed you to yet another empty room. That time, you actually had a conversation after you were done, but it was far from the romantic invitation for a date at Madame Puddifoot. "You need to be less obvious", he said, buttoning up his shirt. "I just did what you've done last time", you said, pulling your skirt up, feeling the warmness between your legs, the humiliation of being scolded like a kid by the person responsible for it. "But if it's going to happen that often", he smirked, "we have to figure out a way to do it in a way that people don't have to pay the tiniest amount of attention to find out, baby", he completed, and started scheming. You agreed to his plan: whenever any of you wanted to see the other, you'd send a note with a smiley face, something that wouldn't be revealing and wouldn't mean anything to anyone but the two of you, and you'd meet at three in the morning at the come and go room. "It's safe. And it has an appropriate name, don't you think?", he laughed, and you shot him a weak smile. He walked to the door but before he opened it, you put your hand on his arm. "Sirius", you said, and he noticed that he liked the way his name sounded on your lips when you were composed as well, and scolded himself for the flutter in his chest caused by it, "Are you doing something this weekend? I thought we could go to Madame Pu..." "We shouldn't be seen in public, doll", he said, trying to give you one of his smirks, but you noticed how his eyes still looked sad. It didn't matter, though - the weight of rejection pulled you down and you had to use all of your energy not to break down crying while going back to your room. Sirius went first. Once you were about to go up the stairs that would lead to your room, you heard his laughter with his friends coming from the other staircase. Unbothered by your encounter.

Leave the perfume on the shelf That you picked out just for him So you leave no trace behind Like you don't even exist

You've dealt with by rationalizing it in many different ways. You thought that the next time you got a piece of parchment with a smiley face, you'd just ignore him, happy to imagine him alone and pathetic, waiting for you. But you never had the strength to do it. You'd always fix your hair and some makeup and went straight back to his arms.

Take the words for what they are A dwindling, mercurial high A drug that only worked The first few hundred times

"Why does it have to be like this?", you asked, feeling brave, six months after your first encounter. "Y/N", he said - you felt a shiver up your spine like you always did when you heard your name in his voice - "I'm a bad friend. And I'm trying to avoid coming to terms with that", he completed with a sad smile on his face. Once he noticed your confusion, he explained how he started noticing you after Remus admitted to having a crush on you, but never had the guts to tell you. That Remus made him notice things about you he wasn't paying attention before - how your lips would pout when you were concentrating during Charms, how your soft curves were visible under the heavy wool of the sweaters you liked to wear - but it was you, in a burst of attitude, pushing him against a wall that made him give up on being a good friend for Remus on what concerned you.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs And clandestine meetings And stolen stares They show their truth one single time But they lie, and they lie, and they lie A billion little times

You accepted your status as a shameful secret. Remus still gave you fond looks and eventually had the courage to get close to you, trying to help with your DADA homework, complimenting haircuts, holding doors open to you. And you thanked him with your heart full of guilt, Sirius' stare burning on your back. After one of your encounters, Sirius brushed his fingers against your cheek and pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. You were still shocked at the demonstration of affection when he left the room first, and you started counting to 300 again. 151… Is he falling for you? 208… It can't be. It has to be just physical. Why would he fall for you and still keep you as a secret? 299… It clicked. He could fall for you a million times, it would never be as important as his friendship with Remus. And you loved him a bit more because of that. 300.

And you wanna scream Don't call me kid Don't call me baby Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else

You tried seeing other guys. You went on dates, and you blushed at their compliments, but none of them had a fraction of the effect of Sirius had on you. You still hoped he noticed when one of them would hold your hand on the way to Hogsmeade. You could only hope it hurt him as much as it hurt you to see him flirt with other girls. To listen to his voice calling them "baby".

Don't call me kid Don't call me baby Look at this idiotic fool that you made me You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else

One night, you were whispering his name with him already inside you, your shirt undone, your bra unclasped, your skirt pulled up, when the door opened. The pain in Remus’s eyes as he understood what was happening in front of him was something you knew you would never forget. Sirius left you there, dressing himself quickly while apologizing profusely to his friend. You turned around and tried to fix yourself, and they left without even looking back at you.

And you know damn well For you I would ruin myself A million little times

None of them ever spoke with you again. It was as if you were taboo. Even James and Peter wouldn't pay attention to you once you spoke in class or told a funny joke to your friend in the common room. You figured it was fair. They had to do what's best for their friendship. And if pretending you didn't exist was the price to pay for that, they'd all pay it. When you saw them all laughing together, joyful, you knew you'd do the same.

But, sometimes, you could swear you felt Sirius’ gaze against you. And you knew that was as close as he'd get to ever touching you again.

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diversitytrash · 4 years

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Circles (Hisoka HxH)

Well hello there! hope you’re all doing okay during these hard times with this pandemic, I really hope you all feel safe and are healthy. This is a little something I was working on, the song really hitting all the right buttons to get me working enough to do a little something, hope is of your liking! I used this song as inspiration for this little something, got me in the mood enough since I got it playing on a loop for a while.

*Sidenotes*: I apologize in advance if this suck, really, please forgive me.

Warnings: Gloomy thoughts, language, abuse of substance, angst, Hisoka

Work count: 4.4k

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

~We couldn’t turn around

Till we were upside down

I’ll be the bad guy now

But no, I ain’t too proud~

She could not truly explain the numb feeling in her chest. The way her blood flooded quicker whenever a certain jester came to her mind, how her eyes filled with tears at the memory of her begging, of her offering the impossible only to not feel neglected by her significant other.

But she never bothered to see his true colors, the way whenever she would open her heart to him, the teasing smile that adorned his lips, the mockery shining in his eyes, the little laughs whenever she truly thought he was paying attention.

~I couldn’t be there

Even when I try~

She was idiot enough to think that maybe; just maybe, inside his hollow chest there was still a little piece of his rotten heart that could at least respect her, but lying to herself is the best magic trick she learned over the time of her life she shared with Hisoka.

It was not the fact that she blinded herself out of love; she wanted to avoid the obvious; she wanted to ignore the way his eyes will linger in other girls as they walked down the street on cute little “dates” he would take her only to make sure she would not nag his head off for being such an asshole.

Y/n always was quick to give Hisoka a blind eye whenever he would come over to her apartment looking for shelter, with his clothes slightly awkward on contrary of how the jester always made sure to look presentable, how whenever he kissed her in his lips always lingered a stain of lipstick that it wasn’t hers . How through the collar of his shirt there were colored marks on his skin that she never left because Hisoka hated to be marked by her, claiming to not be property of anyone.

So the best she could do was make her heart and mind go numb; no longer bother to shed tears whenever the jester took from her every ounce of life and cherish, soft loving whispers falling from her lips and then fade away from her life for days, weeks, even months. How even a numb-feeling assassin will mock her, teasing her in little matters whenever Hisoka popped into their conversations.

How the troupe of thieves will look at her like she was the greatest joke they have heard so far; and some others with pure pity.

~You don’t believe it

We do this every time~

How y/n thought that the best way from getting rid of a nuisance was by bringing another one into her life, one that will make her feel her fingers loose, her eyes slightly heavy as soon the burning sensation left in her throat became so usual that it seemed she was drinking plain water.

Somehow the strong smell of liquor staining her breath and mind was not enough; so she added a new little trick to her nightly routine, her eyes now becoming puffy, and her mind so loud and wild that instead of feeling numb she felt like venturing the world while laying down at her couch.

The long black-haired assassin had had enough of seeing the most composed person in his life to crumble down over someone not worthy of her sorrow, so soon; he also became a constant in y/n’s melancholic nights, how he would hide her precious edibles and little stash until it was safe for him to throw it away, the liquor supply becoming more and more unavailable, soon enough she was back again sober enough to feel once again, now feeling the self-consciousness her new hobbies hide, but more like irritation over the black-eye assassin

“Funny how ever since you started to come here my buzz has been drying night by night Illumi” she snarled, her mood swings becoming more prominent, but Illumi kept on with his plan, it was a perfect plan in his eyes. Instead of destroying her potential and life over a self-destructive moron, Illumi decided to teach her that there were other ways for her to feel such as a broken heart

“Maybe you’re just taking more than usual and is no longer enough with the amount you are used to”

It was a little trick here and there. Enough for her to grow scared of the little ghost she was becoming, soon it was not only Illumi the one who visited her home often, but also a certain leader, his book never leaving his hand while he pretended to be there just to enjoy her favorite reading chair, which by pure coincidence was right in front of where she always drowned her regrets in.

To the added mix became more and more people until her home felt too crowded, too much noise, too much people for her to deal with after isolating herself from the world since the early months of that year.

It was a faithful night, the radio playing softly in the background as now she was no longer in the couch where she used to throw herself over, drink and weed in each hand while looking over her ceiling. Now she was seated over Chrollo’s claimed chair, moved over the balcony at the right of her living room as she looked over the stars, the cold night making her skin invade of goosebumps as the bitter memory of the night her life went down the drain came into her mind

It was a sunny day, awfully a bright, good sunny day. Good enough to make her get up early, no need of her alarm as the curtains of her bedroom window barely caught the light of the warm blooming sun.

It was a happy day; but inside her heart, like a sixth sense, there was an ugly monster crawling, having weeks growing and growing inside her little heart whenever Hisoka came to her mind.

But she decided to ignore the monster bubbling inside her mind, the nightmare shadow of second guessing her lover’s true intentions.

She decided to give Hisoka the benefit of a doubt and the little monster only kept growing and growing, every night that passed over the last 3 days since he announced he will be around town doing business smiling at her, in the middle of the night waking her up by the terrifying laugh it will bubble from the sharp-fanged mouth that had, the way whenever Hisoka’s name left her lips in a whimper it teased her, telling her just how worthless she was in the jester’s eyes.

So, today was a sunny bright day to go down town and do a few of her pending errands and calm the beast down, proving it that there was nothing to worry about, that Hisoka was a man of his word. And god how did she regret being so right.

~Seasons change and our love went cold~

She regretted getting so up in the morning and running a fresh shower now that she saw her lover walking with two ladies tangled by his sides as Hisoka kept a sensual pace all the way down to the motel.

She regretted using the little overall skirt that she adored with all her heart along with her favorite shirt as she waited outside the motel until late at night to find a lover covered in love bites and yet, one of the ladies by his side.

She hated that she did her makeup with so much effort, looking herself through the mirror and admiring herself, whispering to her own little ears just how beautiful she truly was; only to have Hisoka mock her in the middle of the street as the piercing dagger in the middle of her heart kept going deeper and deeper the more Hisoka spoke

~Feed the flame ‘cause we can’t let go~

“Oh kitten, how pathetic of you to truly believe I ever loved you. I don’t do love princess, I fuck who I lust for, and both of us know, it’s been a long while since I visited your little downtown”

But the most she hated, was the little steps she took joyful as she walked down the streets, treating herself to little desires as more than a coffee and a snack and looking for a gift for her lover thinking he truly loved her.

The fact of knowing the monster crawling inside her mind was right; how it laughed at her just like Hisoka and the beautiful lady by his side. The way the little monster became bigger and bigger When Hisoka spoke hurtful words in her direction

~I dare you to do something

I’m waiting on you again

So I don’t take the blame~

“No one of importance”

“How pathetic”

“I actually did you a favor’”

How the assassin she thought that had an ounce of empathy at least at one of her tip of his needles only laughed at her

~Run away, but we running in circles~

“Did you truly believe Hisoka would love someone like you?”

Once again she felt like a child, the scolded child her mother hated to see after punishing her for doing something wrong, how she would scold her for having a tear-stained face like she was victim when in fact it was her fault the punishment she got. How her mother will lock her inside her room for days on with no contact to the outer world because she decided to go downstairs when she was clearly busy.

~Run away. Run away. Run away~

And so, the urgent need of changing her home upside down invaded her body, anxious enough to move maybe a little too fast, making the assassin move quick enough to get her before her face smashed against the floor. The way her body tingled with excitement as her eyes once again sparked with the same mischief like before she dipped herself into the jester’s magic tricks

~Let go

I got a feeling that it’s time to let go~

Suddenly, the thought of her bed felt wrong, the way her room was coordinated felt unsettling and just thinking about how she would throw herself into it by the time she went to bed felt wrong

“What are you doing?” The assassin questioned, confused by her sudden burst of energy as she looked over him

“It’s spring Illumi! Spring!” She cheered, excitedly walking fast over her windows and opening them wide, the assassin once again feeling terrified by just how much emotion she handled in her body in such short periods of time

“Yes, it is Spring” he answered, y/n snorting before she turned around and her hands on her hips

“It’s spring cleaning Illumi. We’re cleaning!” To say that Illumi’s was more than excited of just leaving her on her own to do her own thoughtless actions was beyond tempting, but also, he was curious about what exactly she was meaning about this spoken Spring Cleaning that got her so excited.

And soon, as Illumi saw how she pulled empty boxes from her closet and she opened her drawers; only to notice how many pieces of her lengerie were thrown into them and so as certain cards and other little gifts, Illumi felt the need enough to call for second hands and try to help him to figure out just what she planned to do

~I say so

I knew this was doomed from the get go~

When a troupe arrived to the home, along with 4 declares enemies; Illumi felt more peaceful

“What the hell Zoldyck, you said this was an emergency, not a fucking hangout-“ but as soon as Nobunaga’s snark comments came and invade her home, they left as they saw her, her hair in a high pony tail and sweat lightly dripping from her forehead, a bright smile in her face, and boxes in both of her arms as she stood from the top of her stairs

“Oh, hey guys!” y/n spoke, excited to see her friends, the boxes in her arms being let go as both of them slammed against the floor, the sudden crash of something fragile inside either one or both alarming the entire party as she dusted her hands, looking proud

“Glad you see you all, but I’m a little busy at the moment as you can see” she pointed at the boxes, the bitter smell of the cologne a certain jester used invading their nostrils, Chrollo being quick to connect the loose ends as he smiled al little bit, but the rest of the troupe still confused

“Y/n… are those… Hisoka’s things?” Shalnark asked, taking his words with much care as to not fright the little dove in front of them while her smiled grew

~You thought that it was special, special~

“Yes!” She replied excited before turning around over her room, leaving them at the entrance hallway, but Shalnark had many questions in his mind, why was Hisoka’s cologne infesting the entire room to be specific, in a box she threw out of her arms like she was dealing with bad things like trash

“Why?” Pakunoda pushed, looking over the entrance of her bedroom as the excited young adult ripped the sheets from her mattress, throwing them over the floor before she looked back at them

“Spring cleaning! Didn’t Illumi tell you when he called? It’s spring cleaning” she answered, like trying to explain a child the obvious answer before she pulled the mattress from the wooden base, moving little by little until half of it was out of it

~But it was just the sex though, the sex though~

“So, you’re throwing things away?” Shizuku was the next to ask, confused as to why exactly he was called over before she smiled nodding her head

“Why are we throwing good things away?” Shalnark frowned, still not getting the point as she rolled her eyes

“Spring cleaning it’s the time of year where you get rid of shit you don’t longer need in your life” she answered, the words leaving her mouth smooth, too smooth for a woman with the broken heart to speak so freely

“And what’s the shit we’re getting rid off?” Phinks questioned, pushing the people from her door aside as he took his jacket off, rolling his shoulders as he pulled and twisted the sleeves of his shirt as much as he could to make it a muscle shirt

“Bad vibes shit” was all she answered, but it was enough for a few of them to know that finally; she was done with her little depressing episode over the jester once her heart loved unconditionally, the blood of a bitter year finally ending its tour in her soul and now; once again, being the quirking little spirit they once met.

Just like how boxes of gifts and clothes were thrown out, soon her entire bed followed, with the help of the male part of the troupe as the girls kept themselves busy over her living room and kitchen, looking for anything that reminded her of the jester.

But to everyone’s surprise, she was getting rid of everything

“Are you sure, 100% positive that this couch needs to leave along with the fucking plasma tv?”

“Spring cleaning Shalnark!”

And so, as the day went by, with the help of her friends, her home was now nothing but the entire emptiness of echoes and walls, no room reserves with anything, not a single chair, not a single table, not even a cup or a spoon

~And I still hear the echoes (the echoes)

I got a feeling that it’s time to let it go

Let it go~

She truly got rid of everything in her apartment, everything being left out in the street with a sign in big bold letters of FREE, TAKE WHATEVER YOU PLEASE, the way her heart hammered against her ribcages was exciting, almost teasing her to keep on, being barely noon, she still had plenty of time to keep moving forward

“She even got rid of the fucking stove. And the damn fridge” Feitan grumbled, looking over the empty kitchen

“What the hell, you threw out my fucking stove?” She snarled, her attention disappearing from the empty living room for a second as she looked over the men

“You said you get rid of everything!”

“Except the kitchen!"

“How were we going to know!”

“And where is my reading chair Chrollo?”

So on, the next three days were eventful enough for her to be moving up and down around town, the snark comments coming from the party of males who moved all the way down to the first floor of the building to retract her precious kitchen only to notify that her fridge was long gone, as she chew over the big bad boss, threatening his future bloodline if he didn’t return her precious chair, if he ever dare to have one.

Instead of plain cold white, her living room was not a soft, kissed pastel of baby grey, the way it contrasted all her new furniture bringing lightness to her heart, her kitchen now bright white and dark wooden floors, the midnight black dinner table contrasting lovely with her pearl china and silverware cutlery.

~Maybe you don’t understand what I’m through

It’s only me, what you got to loose?~

The smell of fresh paint invaded her senses as she moved along her home to open all the available windows, the purpose of change in her heart was big and evident enough for no one to question her decision and just how exactly she desired to view the world from now on. Just as changed came into her life in a material world, so they did in her loving. Her hair no longer at the competing length as Illumi’s. It now tickled her cheeks in soft little curls whenever she moved a little too quickly. Her wardrobe entirely changed, everything she ever owned either being thrown away or giving as hand-downs, since her clothing was all in a perfect shape and some pieces even brand new.

~Make up your mind, tell me, what are you gonna do?~

The little monster was no longer invading her nights and days, suddenly the gloomy days that invaded her morning were now the brightest, the excitement in her body enough to rub off even in the most odd of her companions, and once again, it was a sunny day.

She was wearing her favorite jean overall skirt, along with a white t-shirt underneath and her snickers making match with it.

The man she was clinging over in his ever odd green outfit

“Illumi please~ just one~” she cried, getting heavier and heavier over his arms as the little tick in his eye made presence, the little smirk in her lips going unnoticed by the assassin as he tried to push her away, only to have her grip her arms around his waist in quite and odd hug since he tried to rip her off his body

“If I say yes, will you let me go?” the male grumbled, hating the idea of so much attention on him, but even worse the feeling in his chest whenever she hugged him

“If you tell me where Chrollo hid my most precious treasure, maybe”

~It’s only me, let it go~

But for her odd luck, back in the roof of a building, the little monster that once invaded her heart, was now a monster hunting the jester she once loved. And it felt horrible just how much it crawled in his mind even in days when he had promised to not think of her.

At first, it was the memory of the night she caught him red handed in his little adventures, but Hisoka payed her no mind, knowing deep in his heart, that in no longer than three days; she would be calling him on his cellphone, at least three times the first day and after the third time he did not answer; leaving him a voicemail asking him, pleading, begging, that if he had time in his hands to spare, she would be waiting for him at her apartment.

But the calls never came, Hisoka assumed she needed a little bit more of time for her to come around, after all, this was not like the other times many fights happened.

It was not a day where she smelled a perfume that was not hers in his clothes.

It was not the kisses stained that didn’t belong to her at his neck to jaw.

It wasn’t the false hope of maybe it being an odd coincidence.

~Seasons changed and our love went cold~

Soon the thought of her left his mind as quick as it arrived and he continued on to pursue his life as a single man, scoffing and mocking the memory of her being such an obedient pet for him; such a good little girl only for him. Turning into a sour note in his being.

As time passed, Hisoka saw less and less of her, it was almost as she became a ghost to hunt him along his days.

That’s when, after such teasing manners with the troupe he became part with started talking

“It was an odd weekend” it was all Shalnarkl spoke about those three days when there was nowhere in the current hideout, how all of the sudden they seemed busy, everyone but him

“Ask the boss, not me” avoiding his nosy interrogation, he was fed enough with vague excuses and wanted to know the truth

And, after a year where he was waiting for her to come around, the reality of his situation hit him so harsh, never did Hisoka imagined to feel his chest contrast in such a painful way

“Ah yes. We were busy helping y/n doing her spring cleaning, she got rid of something” that was the first time the little monster appear, hiding in the shadows of his mind, eyes bright and fangs out of its mouth, mouth drooling at the taste of Hisoka’s distress, specially at the witnessing eye he was glaring, daggers in his irises that killed Chrollo over a hundred times once he realized just where the phantom troupe leader was sitting

“And what was that something you helped my little ripe fruit that you got rid of Dauncho?” Chrollo could feel the uneasiness from Hisoka, it was palpable, like a wild caged animal trying to scent the room in order to feel safe, but much to his poor luck, Chorllo was not feeling sympathy enough in his heart and mind to share some with the clown in his troupe

“Well, you of course” and like a rabid dog, the monster bit Hisoka down deep in his insecurities, like a bucket of cold water in his overheated skin, goosebumps invading his skin as the realization of where he stood hit him at the back of his head

She got rid of everything that reminded her of him

~Feed the flame ‘cause we can’t let go~

The red eye monster no longer left Hisoka’s side, it had been nearly half a year since that realization became palpable in his life. The way his throat knotted when as soon as Chrollo finished giving his explanation he flew all the way down to her home. Only to find pieces of himself thrown like trash, he was not spoken lies to when Chorllo told him where exactly they went that long weekend, the rain heavy and hurtful over Hisoka’s shoulders as he saw the boxes of gifts he once bought his beloved, including gifts and things she bought for him. Everything away like they never meant anything, nothing to care about, to cherish, to love

Just like you did with her little heart

The monster mocked, laughing louder and louder every time Hisoka dared to deny the reality of his situation, how he in fact took her for granted. The one person he always crawled back whenever he was feeling down; in the need of company either by distraction or in the silent bliss of just having her in his arms.

Indeed Hisoka threw her heart to the trash before stepping on it over and over again a thousand times, but never did he expect for her to get rid of him in such a way

~Run away, but we’re running in circles~

Hisoka remembers the day she finally, shut her heart closed from him.

The tears that once ran down her porcelain skin, were now invading his eyes, feeling helpless and the monster crawled in his mind, feral and pushing him over the edge of mania further from the forbidden emotions he already felt.

The helplessness in her steps as she ran away from him not made his legs feel like jelly whenever he took a step forward, fighting against the monster inside his head, screaming at it in his mind that it was wrong and she will love him once again as soon as she sees him

The vile in his throat leaving a bitter taste in his mouth as he saw just how happy she was.

She needed to feel miserable, just like him, he no longer had that little feeling in his heart, the excitement of going back into her arms like once the blue moon far away from now. But he felt numb, no longer did Hisoka had the desire of moving forward and leaving in the past.

He needed her to need him.

The knowing fact that she no longer felt miserable without him irked him, why was she so happy to get him out of her life?

Did he really deserve such treatment? Did he ruined her love for him enough to say he was no longer worth to have in her life, such as throwing everything away he even once touch like the worst of virus invaded said articles?

The monster inside his head finally won the final battle before leaving him; feeling as empty as ever, no purpose in life other than the desire of fulfillment; the need of feeling something; anything, to crash him like a gave to once again, learn how to ignore the emptiness in his body, the dark thought of being reminded he was left alone, no one needing him, everyone hating him. But why was he feeling like this?

Wasn’t this what he wanted all along? Stirring feeling inside people that made them feel confused, distress, sorrow; whenever they thought about him? Did is what he wanted all along, isn’t it true? He was bored with her, that was the excuse he used when he decided she was too loving for him.

After all; Hisoka loves to feel, but not much, just enough to know he caused an impact, and just like that; rip it away harsh enough to leave an ugly scar, the memory of him impregnated in their minds forever.

But it seemed like now; the ugly scar was not in her, but in his empty broken heart.

~Run away, Run away

Run away~

*Fin*

#hisoka x reader #hisoka morow #hisoka angst #hunter x hunter #hisoka hunter hunter #h x h hisoka #hisoka hunter x hunter #reader x hisoka #Hisoka hxh

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alolanrain · 4 years

Note

I know u probs aren’t looking for another au but u kind of inspired this: Raihan being Ash’s BF for a bit now when Mew and Mewtwo appear. They hand Raihan a lump wrapped in clothes and Mewtwo is like “there was an incident we’re working on it but we need someone to watch them while we work and they can’t leave the region bye” and teleport away. Raihan is so confused until he finds a de-aged baby ash and Pichu in the lump (it takes a week before Celebi/Dialga can fix it).

OKAY FIRST OF HOW DARE YOU BRING THIS WONDERFUL AU TO MY DOORSTEP!?!?

Second off this is absolutely amazing and I’m taking it now.

Raihan is absolutely shocked because he did NOT plan is day to be like this at all. Ash is now babey so he can’t be left alone at all, something in Raihans gut is telling him not to hire a nanny even though that would take a large chunk of work off of Raihan’s plate, and the Pichu with the baby has to be Pikachu.

He goes back to his house, not saying a word besides what he sputtered out to Mew and Mewtwo before they vanished, and sits down on the couch. Pichu curled up and clinging to his headband as Raihan looks down to his de-aged Bf who’s looking up at him. Making baby gurgling noises and raising his hands up at Raihans face. It’s only then does it sink in that his wonderful Bf is de-aged and he has absolutely no fucking clue how to take care of a baby. So that means there’s only one thing...

Call Melony

Raihan being a coward goes through like forty google links on How To Take Care Of Your De-aged Boyfrind, more like babysitting a baby for dummies, before submitting when he STILL has no clue. The call goes to voice mail and Raihan is to scared and panicking that he just stutters out “I have a baby, help.” Before ending the call and instinctively chucking his Rotom phone across the room. Rotom is kinda pissed at that but they understand because their afraid of Melony to, Pokémon like trainer.

Raihan doesn’t get any answer or notifications from her until like 3 hours later she basically kicks his doors down and send both Raihan and Ash, who he was still cradling in his arms, into a scare fit. Ash starts crying and Raihan wants to to when he see’s Melony now armed with Kabu and Opal behind her.

It’s a mess and Ash starts crying even louder when he gets taken out of Raihans arms, Pichu gets angry as well and Raihans Pokémon are so close to attacking as well because the 3 adults scared them as well, by Melony and All three question him about where he got Ash and how come someone trusted Raihan with a baby this young?

Raihan panicking and about to have a anxiety attack: it’s Ash!

Melony stopping: it’s who!?

Raihan getting worse: it’s Champion Ash! A new and some kind of knock off Mew called Mewtwo gave him to me along with Pikachu *waves to the sparking Pichu on his shoulder*. I don’t know what happened, something to do with Dialga and Celebi, but I’m supposed to watch him until he un-de-ages.

All three adults: *simultaneously shocked Pikachu meme*

Bby! Ash: *still crying*

Raihan: can I.... can I have him back?

So Raihan gets him back and Ash calms down a little but still is a sniffling mess and Raihan is still close to crying himself from under all the sudden stress and anger from the three most badass gym leaders. Opal acts first while coming closer and uncharacteristically correcting Raihans hold with a shaking hand. Raihan then remembers that both Kabu and Opal were once parents but both lost their kids in different accidents long ago before Raihan was born, a secret kept between any and all Galar Gym leaders.

Melony is still a bit stressful but both Opal and Kabu calm down, or Kabu relaxes a little since he was mostly calm during that interaction, and help Raihan clean Ash up. Pichu is still distrustful but let’s it go for now since no one is yelling anymore and Ash isn’t crying. It soon boils down that Melony would bring her old nursery stuff down to Raihans house later that day while Kabu and Opal help Raihan order baby stuff to his house. When Raihan questions why not go out and buy stuff they point out that Raihan with Ash out in public, with the public Not Knowing Ash is a baby until who knows how long, would cause a rucus and that would cause Rose and Oleana coming down to talk to Raihan.

He then points out that he’s a Gym leader, and it’s nearing the end of the training season as well, AND that he has a large following on social media. His fans are bound to find out that he has a baby by either stalking his house or the public just finding out that he’s taking care of a baby because Raihan has to go to work and back.

Hiring a nanny is immediately off the list Raihan states when they try and brainstorm some ideas. To risky which Raihans position and crazed fan clubs, and he doesn’t trust Rose’s hired league nannies after what he heard of what happened with Melony young twins, and that one of them might somehow find out early and work into the selection pool and now Raihan is falling into another panic induced episode that’s slowly working its way to upsetting Ash.

It takes Kabu gently getting Ash out of Raihans grip for him to realize that he almost set of Ash again. They agree nannies are off the table and are now forced to agree with just going with the flow and going out to public and dealing with Rose and Oleana afterwards.

What Raihan dreads the most is when Sonia and Nessa find out, their very big on babies and Raihan knows that they’ll try and be over almost 90% of the time, or Arceus forbids Leon finds out. That man was such a little terror when his baby brother Hop came into the world. Constantly rebelling against Rose and Oleana, much to everyone else’s amusement in the league besides Rose and Oleana, to go see little baby Hop. Dude has a sixth sense of when there’s a baby nearby.

Raihans fears happen and the moment someone spots him in public with Opal, Ash, and Pichu theres photos spread all across Galars social media. He refuses to check his phone, turned off because no-fucking-way is he answering anyone’s calls in public, and continues to ignore the chatter and uncharacteristically stick by Opals side who glares at anyone who dares come to close to the young adult and the baby.

Melony and Kabu go back, with an extra house key to Raihans house just incase they magically get back before he and Opal do, to Melonys house to get her old nursery stuff and transport it back to his house. Opal isn’t really playing until her usual Crazy Old Eccentric Lady normal personality. she’s more wise and calm as she easily answers all of Raihans, still, slightly frantic questions.

Ash is a quite baby throughout all this, maybe it helps that Pichu keeps chittering down to the baby at all times through the ordeal, and only really made any noise when Raihan brought a toy into his sight. Other then that Ash was more tuned to the idea of sleeping and drooling on Raihans hoodie.

Once they got back to the house, Kabu and Melony nowhere in sight and Raihan was taught how to clean, feed, burp, and dress Ash, did Raihan turn on his phone. Half surprised by all the calls, voicemails, and frantic all calls messages by everyone. What worried him the most was the most frequent call, from Lance of all people.

Lance pops up on his screen again and Raihan quietly prepares for the man to question him before answering.

Lance: where’s Ash and when did you get a baby!?

Raihan, extremely tired: the baby is Ash

Lance: ... that makes so much more sense and not at all at the same time

Raihan: from what Mew and Mewtwo told me before disappearing, something happened and Godly de-aging for both Ash and Pikachu

Lance: ....

Raihan: .....

Lance: so how long-

Raihan: I have no fucking clue

Lance: well Shit.

Melony and Kabu come back, with Gordie and Bea in tow as well, and they all start setting up the nursery in Raihan office room and the crib between Flygon’s ‘nest’ of pillows and blankets and Raihans bed. Raihan orders pizza as a thank you and the next thing he knows Sonia comes bursting through the door.

Raihan, to tired for anymore of this shit today, does not let her hold Ash. Using his height to his advantage and keeps Ash, who’s also sleeping, out of her grip carefully. After an hour or 3 he kicks them all out of his house and finally settles Ash down for bed after going through the motions of checking his diaper and everything else.

Ash sleeps well through the night besides one crying fest early in the morning, thankfully right around 5:30 when Raihan usually gets up, and Raihan has to stumble through the journey of getting Ash cleaned, fed, burped, and dressed before looking over a pre-packed baby bag and going to work the next day.

#wolfy answers #ash ketchum #gym leader raihan #fangshipping #sonia #nessa #melony #bea #gordie #kabu #opal #rose #oleana #champion leon #de-aged!ash #bby!ash #de-aged ash!au

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Heart of Glass, Mind of Stone, 1/? (Jiji, Methydoll) - Ella

summary - When Crystal envisioned her life as a law student, she daydreamed of topping her classes and the inevitable sleepless nights that it would come with. What she didn’t expect was to be so tied up to a high-profile murder case that it was next to impossible to get herself out of it.

a/n - welcome to my first ever multichap! ive been planning this for almost a month now, so glad that it’s finally out here! thank you so much to the amazing and talented @imalwaysaslutfordrag for beta-ing! thank you to v as well for helping me sort out some concerns, she’s really really cool :>

feel free to hmu here on tumblr @dawningofdrag or maybe, if you have the time, give this a read on ao3 as well! enjoy some lawyer gays, folks

There was a dead body lying on the floor and nobody. dared. to move.

“We killed her,” Crystal spoke, voice so hoarse from the screaming just moments ago that her throat ached.

Her eyes were blown wide- just like everyone else’s -as she stared at the corpse lying lifeless on the dark herringbone floorboards. The bright fluorescent light of the lamp posts that stood outside the property peeked through the sheer curtains of the living room they stood in, almost perfectly framing the bleak expression of the cadaver resting in the middle of the circle the Latina and the rest of the group had created.

A breathy scream broke the silence and Crystal traced the sound back to Gigi, who dropped to the floor in sheer terror. Her green eyes barely broke contact with the body, short erratic breaths escaping her bare pink lips through the pale hand that covered it. Crystal instinctively ran over to where the blonde now sat on the floor, wrapping her arms around her lean frame in an attempt to calm her down.

“She’s dead,” Gigi gasped out, bloodshot eyes still refusing to tear away from the body laid out in front of her. The Latina grasped the blonde’s hand, squeezing it to offer some sense of comfort despite the horrifying circumstances.

The room fell silent, a thick, heavy air resting on their shoulders as they all collectively just stood there, allowing their actions and its repercussions to settle into their conscience.

“We’re murderers,” Gigi whispered through her hiccups, and all Crystal could do was nod. They killed her. They committed murder, and all of a sudden it felt like it was much, much harder to breathe.

- three months before -

Crystal shot the rest of her now lukewarm coffee down her throat in a quick motion, slamming the warm thermos down on her incredibly small desk with a loud thud. She exhaled, setting her bag on the floor next to her chair before inserting herself in it. Her hands grazed the chipped wood that made up her armrests, a soft smile appearing on her painted lips.

First day of law school, totally not the scariest thing in the whole world. Not like she dreamt of this day since she was a little girl, you know?

Crystal could now proudly declare to the world (and her extremely judgemental tia’s and tio’s) that she was studying law at the best law school in the country, sitting in a lecture hall ready to attend a class spearheaded by the sole individual who made her realize she wanted to pursue a law career in the first place. How she wasn’t fully freaking out right now was just as much of a mystery to her as it was to everyone else.

She set her laptop on the desk attached to her assigned chair, flipping through the thin folder of her academic roster with curious eyes. She quickly glanced over her classes, the professors teaching them, taking into account the buildings they were held in and when they started.

The sound of a cough diverted the Latina’s attention, bright green eyes meeting hers.

The woman was clad in an olive green pantsuit and a plain black blouse that seemed to fit her like a glove. It seemed perfectly tailored, almost as if the suit was custom-made. Her short blonde hair was styled to be pin straight, meticulously tucked behind one ear to show off her strong jawline. Her green eyes were narrowed, staring into the Latina’s eyes as if she was guilty of a crime she didn’t commit.

Crystal almost laughed at how hard the woman tried her best to look intimidating.

“Can I help you?” She questioned in a sing-song tone, a perfectly shaped eyebrow raised in confusion. The blonde rolled her eyes.

Crystal narrowed her own. Okay, Elle Woods.

“You’re sitting in my seat.” The woman tapped the sole of her black Louboutin on the tiled floor repeatedly, impatiently waiting for a response.

“Pretty sure I sit here, Ms. Woods.”

“How original.” The blonde scoffed, pulling out a digital image of the assigned seating from her phone to show the Latina who still sat comfortably in her seat, showing no willingness to move whatsoever.

“I sit in the sixth chair from the right.” She stated matter-of-factly. Crystal didn’t even bother hiding her amusement.

She chuckled, turning her body to point at the vacant seat next to her. “I sit in the fifth seat from the right.” Crystal grinned a mischievous smile. “You’re one off, Woods.”

She watched as the blonde woman’s cheeks flared up in embarrassment, quickly taking a seat next to her while keeping her head hung low.

“You’re a law student and you can’t even like, count correctly?” The brunette mocked the woman next to her, nudging her side softly to lighten the mood.

“I’m smart in other ways.” The blonde rolled her eyes once more, but her cold facade faded away just moments after doing so, and a grin started to creep up on the edges of her glossed lips.

“Georgina Goode, Columbia.” She greeted Crystal’s lighthearted gaze with an extension of her arm, hand out for her to shake. “Guess I should master the art of counting before I try to act like I know my shit.”

“Well, you learn new things everyday.” The brunette grinned. Of course she was a Georgina. She reeked of water polo lessons and summers in a beach house in Miami. It further supported Crystal’s initial hypothesis that Ms. Goode, she was definitely an Elle Woods type. You know, the privileged but woke white kid who believed they deserved a medal for recognizing their privilege. She met a couple of them back in pre-law, and they were all so incredibly annoying.

Gigi seemed slightly less annoying though, so she’ll reserve the need to have an opinion until she actually got to know her.

“Just call me Gigi, though.”

Crystal nodded at the information, extending her arm out to receive the open hand.

“Crystal Harness, Yale.”

Their hands collided, a firm couple of shakes and soft smiles before they both pulled away, shifting away from each other to set up their table (seriously though, why were they so small? She wasn’t paying forty grand a semester for her lecture desk to support the weight of half her laptop).

“So, what brings you here?” Crystal couldn’t help but question, starting a conversation between the two and sparking the interest of the woman next to her. It never hurt to make friends in law school.

“I mean, if you were already in Columbia. Don’t they like, top the bars all the time?”

“Oh, easy.” Gigi scoffed at the question as if her answer was so painfully obvious, briefly pointing to the professor’s desk situated just a couple of rows in front of them. “Her.”

I mean, that reason was fair enough. Crystal would be lying if she told you she didn’t also take the attorney into mind when choosing a law school. If she really had to tell the truth, then yes, Attorney Jaida Essence Hall’s teaching position was the sole reason she chose Middleton for law.

Could you blame her though? She was Black, gay, female, and an absolute fucking legend. Harvard Law Valedictorian, record-breaking LSAT score, and built her whole reputation from the ground up. She was a whole ass celebrity in Crystal’s eyes, and hearing that Jaida had a teaching position in Middleton was all the information she needed to choose the university.

“I get it.” Crystal replied after a brief moment, finally relaxing against the back of her chair’s deflated cushions. “I kind of wanna be her.”

“You and every other woman in this class, Crystal.” The blonde mumbled, smirking at her snide remark. “You’re not special.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong.

The booming sound of high heels clicking against the tiled floor almost startled Crystal, immediately turning her attention towards the woman who just entered the room.

“Good morning class, my name is Jaida Essence Hall-”

She set her black Hermes bag on top of the wooden professor’s table with a loud thud, flipping her long dark hair past her shoulder so effortlessly that she had Crystal, Gigi, and the rest of the class absolutely mesmerized.

Professor Hall turned to face the class in one swift motion, sporting a welcoming grin before continuing her entrancing introduction.

“- and welcome to Criminal Law 100.”

Crystal swore under her breath, taking everything in. The reason she wanted to pursue law was standing twelve feet away from her, leaning against the table with her arms crossed around her chest.

The Latina couldn’t even force herself to focus on the rest of Jaida’s probably really inspiring opening monologue, mind still busy trying to wrap about the idea of breathing the same air as Jaida Essence Hall. Was she overreacting? Probably. Did she care? Absolutely the fuck not. Let her have this.

“If you have been keeping yourselves updated on local news, I’m certain that you have crossed the ongoing case regarding the murder of Brianna Heller.”

That sentence pulled Crystal out of the trance she found herself in, the wording of her statement incorrect in her honest opinion. You didn’t need to watch the local news to know about it. If you lived in Philadelphia for a solid five minutes you’d know about the case of Brianna Heller. She was a Middleton undergrad who went missing for a whole month before her body was found two days ago in the basement of an abandoned warehouse, a spot frequented by undergrads looking for their dose of illegal thrill. Each and every aspect of the case felt like it was pulled right out of a murder mystery book, down to the alleged suspects and their relationships with each other. The press was having a field day milking the case dry for any information they could publish.

Jaida went back and forth across the platform, one hand on her hip as she continued. “Just this morning, I was asked to represent one of the main suspects, Jamie McKenna.”

The woman clicked on her remote, displaying a photo of the woman on the projector screen.

I mean if you were gonna ask Crystal, she thought Jamie did it. After quickly scanning the case a couple of nights ago when she had absolutely nothing better to do, she had a gut feeling the blonde committed the murder. They both had rather large online followings due to their theater backgrounds, but Brianna had much bigger numbers in comparison to Jamie, even though in Crystal’s opinion, Jamie was a much better singer.

There was a very clear motive and intent. All they needed was to find the murder weapon and the case was closed.

The class erupted in loud whispers once the photo displayed itself on screen, Gigi visibly unfazed next to her. Everyone has had a conversation about the case with friends, family, strangers. Talking about it felt redundant and unnecessary, and if you were going to ask Crystal, the conversation was getting really boring.

Jaida paused for a brief moment, allowing the murmurs to die on their own before speaking further. “And although both my associates are very capable individuals, the publicity surrounding the case is unbearable, which means I cannot make one single mistake.”

Crystal narrowed her eyes, confused as to the relevancy of her announcement until it hit her.

Oh my fucking God.

Jaida’s gonna need a team.

“Which means I’m gonna need a team.”

Holy shit.

“For the next week, I will be paying close attention to how you all work during my lectures. My associates will be in attendance, watching from the sidelines, and observing each and every one of you. We need the best of the best so that those chosen will be more of an asset rather than a burden.”

Crystal’s eyes were blown wide at Jaida’s words, her head still spinning as she tried to grasp how big of a deal this actually was. Her eyes met Gigi’s, who was equally as taken back as the Latina, jaw slacked open in shock.

“You will be meeting my associates tomorrow, but make a lasting first impression on me and you might find yourself in the list of people I consider. Am I clear?”

Crystal nodded absent-mindedly, her mind sprinting a million miles a minute as she automatically started to come up with ways to stand out of a class of sixty people.

“Alright, now that that’s all cleared up,” Jaida turned on her heel to fiddle with her laptop, displaying the assigned reading on screen before turning to face the class once more.

“Does anyone want to summarize the case of Commonwealth v. Polachek for me?”

Crystal had never raised her hand quicker in her entire life. It was game on, I guess.

Crystal fumbled to pull out the keys of her front door from the pocket of her cross-body bag, feeling the contents with her fingers until she felt the metal touch her skin. She walked past her neighbor, flashing a nervous smile the woman’s way before she stopped just in front of her apartment.

“Weren’t you in Professor Hall’s class today?”

Crystal’s head whipped around to face the woman who stood a couple of feet away from where she stood, leaning against the doorway of the apartment just next to hers.

The Latina’s eyes met the other girl’s equally dark ones, wavy dark hair framing the woman’s face perfectly. She was clad in a tight-fitting black turtleneck tucked into a high waist black pant, dark plaid blazer and gold jewelry breaking the monochromatic fabrics and causing her jet-black hair to stand out against the blazer’s tweed fabric.

“Yeah. ” Crystal stumbled over her words, running her free hand through her thick curls. How was every single woman in her Criminal Law class so fucking pretty? “Middleton Law too?”

“Mhmm.” Her neighbor smiled, taking a couple of steps forward to close the rather large distance between them both.

She reached out her hand. “Jackie Cox. Harvard Medicine.”

Crystal has never shaken so many hands in such a small period of time. The second they all entered law school everyone became so pathetically professional that it almost humored her.

“Crystal! NYU.” She grinned, shaking her hand before catching onto the words that filled Jackie’s introduction.

“Wait, medicine?” Crystal questioned, pulling her arm back and tucking it into her jean pocket.

“Yeah.” Jackie shrugged the question off with a rather confused tone, acting as if her circumstances were a normal occurrence. “Medicine got really boring, so did Harvard, so I thought I’d give law a shot.”

The Latina didn’t know how to respond. “Woah that’s uh, really cool.”

Crystal wanted to wince at herself for sounding like a fucking four-year-old. She stepped back, shifted her body away, and lifted her key to the lock. Her mind ran in circles, deciding whether or not to invite Jackie to the dinner she and her roommate planned to have later that night. Making friends in law school had many more benefits than it had consequences, and having an incredibly smart medical student-turned-law student on your side sounded like an incredible asset to have in future study groups. Plus, Jackie just seemed really fucking cool.

“Well, uh, my roommate Heidi is coming tonight and we were planning to get to know each other over dinner at 8 o’clock.” The Latina smiled, meeting Jackie’s eyes once more. “Do you maybe wanna join?”

As if on cue, Crystal’s front door burst open to reveal her roommate, who greeted her and Jackie’s startled dispositions with a toothy grin and bare arms spread wide, ready to envelop the Latina in a warm hug.

“Oh my god, Crystal it’s so nice to finally meet you!” Heidi ran a couple of steps to tackle the smaller woman into a tight hug, rocking from side to side as if they were long lost sisters who had finally been reunited. “I can’t believe we’re here!”

A laugh escaped from deep in Crystal’s chest after her new roommate knocked the wind out of her with an overexcited hug. She paused for a quick moment, still taken back by the sudden action, before wrapping her arms around the shorter woman. “Hi!”

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” Crystal pulled back a couple of inches, reciprocating the infectious energy her new roommate put out for her to receive.

Crystal had never met Heidi before, they’ve only been exchanging a handful of texts and semi-professional emails just to get their living situation all sorted out before they moved in. The brunette never would have thought that the woman behind the meticulously worded emails she was receiving over the week was an extrovert who would rather give out hugs over a professional handshake. The duality of man, I guess.

She and Heidi exchange introductions, Jackie joining in on the conversation after a while as they talk about their dinner plans together.

“That sounds great!” Jackie grinned at the invitation, beamed almost, unlocking her door with a twist of a key, pushing it open with force. “I’ll bring some baklava for dessert.”

“I have never heard of baklava! Is it like a Middle Eastern thing or sum’n?” Heidi questioned, her fingernails mindlessly picking on the lint of her wool sweater.

Jackie nodded, a soft laugh coming out of her mouth as she did so. “Yes it is, you hit the nail on the head.”

“Well, it sounds delightful.” The Black woman smiled, arm wrapped around Crystal’s waist like they were all of a sudden the bestest of friends. She honestly didn’t mind having someone like Heidi as a roommate, the loving and positive energy just radiating off of her warm skin was a great juxtaposition from the cold and professional people she was probably going to encounter throughout her law student experience.

They bid their goodbye’s, setting up their final dinner plans before they entered their respective apartments, Heidi already chatting up a storm as they turned to leave.

Crystal waved as Jackie disappeared into her apartment, a small grin resting on her painted lips as she turned to swing her front door open. “See ya, Doc.”

“Gigi, if you fucking scream one more time I swear to god-” Jackie spoke through gritted teeth, knuckles turning white at how tight she gripped the metal bat in her hand.

Her dark eyes scanned the room, pausing at the surrounding windows to check if anyone was peeking through them. Jackie dropped the bat with caution, afraid that the collision of metal on wood would startle anyone that was currently inside the house. She crouched down to inspect the lifeless corpse that separated her from the rest of the group, delicately grazing the pale skin and dead blue eyes with her trembling fingers. She closed the body’s eyes before meeting Crystal’s brown, much more alive ones.

“We have to get rid of the body.”

“Are you fucking insane?” Crystal scoffed, guiding a very distraught Gigi to sit against the armrest of a lounge chair not far by. She made sure the blonde was much calmer than she was just moments ago before shifting her gaze to the Persian across the room.

“You want us to go out on a Friday night? after finals week?” The brunette spat out, her uncontrollable fear turning itself into annoyance and frustration at the sound of her friend’s suggestion.

“Are you dumb?” Jackie hissed, the heels of her boots clicking against the wood as she looked around for a way to clean up the blood slowly pooling around the corpse’s body. “Our DNA is on her skin, Crystal. Under her nails, on her clothes, on the fucking gun.”

“We go to an incinerator and burn the body.” Jackie reasoned, pulling a handkerchief from her bag and getting on her knees as she soaked up the blood from the floor like it was nothing serious. “We’ll classify the remains as animal carcass.”

Crystal stood in place, jaw slacked open in awe of Jackie’s lack of disgust towards the corpse as she dragged the previously clean fabric across the wooden floorboards. “Get rid of any evidence. We can say she ran away. They’ll believe it, her case was a clear loss anyway.”

The Latina groaned in defeat, pulling a handkerchief from her winter coat as she crouched down to join Jackie in cleaning up the mess they had made together. “Fuck you, Doc.”

“Can’t help that I know my shit, Mistress.”

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staticscreenwriting · 4 years

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Casual moths - chapter six

A/N: Would you look at, I remembered I hae other WIPs that don’t feature my boy Billy. If anyone is still reading this story, sorry it took me over 6 months to update. I just wasn’t too inspired. I hope this part is enjoyable. Let me know what you think :)

Find the other parts on my masterlist here.

If you liked this part and wanna help me out, please consider a reblog. Thank you.

There’s implied smut in this. It’s there but it’s not too graphic. Please do not interact if you’re under 18 though. Thanks.

Chapter six - broken windows & burgers

A thick, heavy heat meets Angel as he steps outside of the clubhouse and into the Santo Padre morning. It’s a sticky kind of heat and it’s not even 10, he can only imagine how exhausting work is gonna be today as it will only get hotter as the day progresses.

There’s a sheet of cling foil wrapped around his right arm where fresh lines of ink make up a new piece of art on his skin. It’s more dainty than any of the other tattoos he has. He thinks it might be one of his favorites.

Something about Callie, he has realised a while ago, brings out a side of him he doesn’t know. One he never truly considered was even there. A softer side, a more vulnerable side. A side that finds bravery in softness. Power in vulnerability.

The buzzing of his phone shakes him out of his daydream and pulls him back into reality. He can’t help the smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he reads the name illuminated on the screen. Is this that feeling all the movies and songs always talk about ? The one that never really made it through the walls he worked so hard to build up around him ? Is this it ?

Because if it is, he decides, it’s not so bad.

“ Good morning, mi estrella. How are you doin’ ? “

There’s nothing for a second. No answer. No noise. Nothing. Just quiet. And it’s not a good one. He can tell. He can tell immediately. Like some kind of fucking sixth sense or something.

Then she speaks up. And it only gets worse from there.

“ Angel “ she sniffs down the phone. Her voice is watery, coarse, rough. She’s been crying. Not crying — sobbing.

“ Angel can you come to the shop please ? “

“ Are you okay ? “ It’s all that matters to him in that moment. To know she’s okay. It’s like his own well being depends on hers. How, he wonders, can he ever be okay if she isn’t.

That dependence is quite scary in itself, but he will deal with that later. When he’s alone in his bed and the dark allows him to drown in his fears.

“ I — they trashed my shop “

“ I’ll deal with it, baby. But are you okay ? “

“ Yeah. “ It’s not convincing but he assumes that okay isn’t really the best way to describe her current state. But at least he knows she’s not hurt. Not physically at least.

“ Are you alone ? They still in the shop ? “

“ I’m alone now. No one’s here anymore. Can you come ? “

“ Obviously ! Go get yourself a coffe or something to calm down. I’ll be there in a minute. “

“ I can’t, I need to tidy up in here. I need to fix things. I need to — “

“ Callie ! You need to calm down. We’ll deal with it when I’m there, okay ? “

She sighs, take a moment, sighs again. Then answers.

“ Okay. “

“ And baby ? “

“ Yeah ? “

“ Everything’s gonna be alright. I promise. “

Angel Reyes is not a person to make promises. He knows he ain’t one to keep them anyway so he usually avoids them at all cost. Not with her though. Because he knows it’s as much a promise to her as it is to him. A promise to be better. Do better. Make things right.

A promise to be the person she deserved. A person that’s worthy of her love.

A promise that things are gonna be alright, for the both of them. Together.

“ Jesus fucking Christ. “

Shards of broken glass crack under his boots as Angel steps through the door of the shop, Callie following close behind, eyes still overcast with tears just waiting to be shed.

When she told him it was bad, he imagined it quite like this. Doesn’t mean it’s not still shocking to properly see it.

The windows are gone, all smashed up and broken, nothing but tiny pieces of glass now covering the floor of the shop. Flowers that used to be stacked up in vases all alone the walls, are scattered all over, heads ripped off, stomped on, dead.

Everything is destroyed. A livelihood in danger. And for what ?

The cash register is untouched. Nothing is missing. Not even a single fucking cent.

Angel’s eyes wander around the room, taking it all in. The more he looks at the damage, the more angry he gets. The more rage bubbles up inside of him.

“ That’s not the worst “ a timid voice speaks up from beside him. Callie’s fingers softly tug on his hand, intertwining with his. He places a gentle kiss on her head, savouring the smell of her daisy scented shampoo that seems to linger on her at all times.

“ What’s the worst then ? “

She doesn’t reply, just pulls him towards the back where the fridge is and another work bench. There’s a periwinkle blue wall that Callie always pins her ideas to for bouquets or arrangement. At least that’s the color it used to be.

Angel’s hand grips hers tighter as he steps into the room and his eyes fall onto the big bold letters smeared onto the wall. It’s thick black paint, running and dripping, probably written in a hurry.

“ Found you. “

That’s all it says. Two words. They’re enough to make him feel like someone has dumped a bucket up ice water over him though. It’s a thread. A warning. He’s used to dealing with these kinds of things when he’s the one they’re directed to. But this is not about him. Not in the slightest. This is all about her. All for her. And that’s the hardest part about it.

Angel has very little regard for his own life and though he faults his father for this to a certain extend, he knows it’s an amalgamation of all things that ever went wrong in his life. From his crippling sense of inadequacy compared to his brother, to losing his mother, to finding his place in a motorcycle club that feels like it’s gonna run off it’s tracks any time soon.

It’s all a mess and it’s all culminating in the fact that he doesn’t so much fear for his own life, even in the face of great danger. He’s reckless. If things were to happen to him, well so be it.

But things have changed a little recently. He could lie, say it was a sudden change of heart. The reality is though, that he has seen a glimpse of what life can be. Callie has lit a spark. One that wants to live. That wants to grow and change and become better. One that wants to experience a future. A good one. A happy one. One with her and her daughter.

Realizing someone is threatening that. Threatening her, it makes him boil over with rage. This is his girl. Loving and warm and innocent and happy. She doesn’t deserve this.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe this one time he isn’t the villain of the story. Maybe this one time he can be the hero. Is meant to be the hero.

“ You think that asshole did it ? “

“ Travis ? For sure. He’s that kind of deranged. “

“ You know I can’t let you outta my sight anytime soon, right ? “

“ Maybe I don’t want you to. “

He realises then, just how scared she really is. She’s not putting up a fight. Not telling him how ridiculous he’s being. How she can handle this herself.

Knowing she’s terrified, makes him even more angry. This dude needs to be dealt with. And fast.

“ Where’s the kid ? “

“ She’s with my mom, she’s safe. “

“ Good. D’you wanna come to my place ? I’ll have the prospect come around and clean this up. We’ll figure this out together, okay ? “

“ Shouldn’t I call the police ? “

“ Let me handle this baby. Do you trust me ? “

He doesn’t realise how nerve wrecking and fundamental that question is until it leaves his lips. He’s not used to people trusting him and really, he can’t fault anyone for it. He’s a big grumpy guy with tattoos up and down his arms who has a perpetual frown etched on his face and is part of a motorcycle club. He’s not the poster-child for trustworthy.

And yet, she looks at him, places a soft kiss on his lips and nods. “ Yeah. Yeah I do. “

He thinks his heart has never felt so light in the face of danger.

There’s a funny feeling in his stomach when Angel unlocks the door to his house and lets Callie walk inside. She doesn’t belong here. In his sad little house with the dark furniture and the bare walls.

She’s all smiles and flowers and joy and he is — well none of that.

Angel never felt like he had to impress anyone, much less with his house. Though having her here makes him wish he’d put in some effort when he moved in. To make it feel like a home instead of 4 walls and a roof.

“ Sorry it’s a mess in here. Didn’t expect company to be honest. “

“ Oh no, don’t worry. I like it. “

He turns towards her with his eyebrow raised. He has eyes, he can see what the place looks like. Though it’s not dirty, it sure is untidy. There’s no need fo her to tease him or lie to spare his feelings.

Though when he looks at her, there’s no hint of teasing on her face. No lies. No deceit.

She’s being true and honest with him and that is another shot straight to his heart. A good one. One that makes him want to do better.

“ You being serious ? What could you possibly like ? “

“ It’s very you ! It feels like you and it looks like you and smells like you. “

“ What sweaty and dirty ? “

“ Would I kiss a man who is sweaty and dirty ? “ She says and wraps her arms around his neck.

Angel’s hands find their place on her waist, sitting there as if this is where they’ve always belonged. Her curves are soft and smooth and god, does he wants to touch all of them. Every inch of her body, every patch of skin. He wants to touch it, feel it, taste it.

There’s a carnal desire in him to have her like he’s never felt before. Sure there’s been girls he really wanted to fuck, before. It’s different with her tough. He feels it all over not just between his legs. It starts in the tips of his fingers, moves across his arms, his chest, his heart. It’s everywhere. All consuming.

Her lips fall onto his, taste him, feel him. Her tongue follows soon after. Hot and wet and soft. There’s something else in her kiss. A passion to match his. A desire to match his.

It’s like someone’s flipped a switch and the tension of earlier, filled with fear and anxiety, it’s gone. There’s another kind of tension now. Raw and sexual and physical.

Hands start roaming. She’s all gentle and delicate and sweet. But there’s a fire crackling underneath. Sparks flying just waiting to ignite something bigger. It’s bubbling underneath the surface. Brewing. Waiting.

And then when his lips softly make their way down her neck. It breaks free.

Callie lets out a moan of pleasure. It’s quiet and he almost misses it. But he doesn’t. He just catches it.

Lips on her neck, hands palming her ass, he feels a heat rising. Sensual, lustful, hot. So hot. It’s burning and he doesn't want it to stop. Not now. Not ever.

Buttons hit the floor as she rips open his shirt. “ I’m so sorry “ she laughs though her words are swallowed by his lips as he catches her in another breathtaking kiss.

“ Shut up, that’s the sexiest shit anyone has ever done. “

Angel grabs her by the thighs, lifts her up in his arms. This is the most precious cargo and she deserves to be worshiped.

“ Do you want this ? “ he asks, eyes locked on hers. He needs to hear it. Needs a yes. For her sake and for his. He wouldn’t survive uncertainty. He can’t be a mistake to her.

For once in his life, he wants to be a conscious decision. A choice.

“ Yes. Yeah I fucking do. “

And that about kills him.

Angel maneuvers them towards his tiny bedroom. The gray sheets and the dark curtains make it looks so dull and sad. He can’t wait to see her in here. Fuck her in here. To put a little ray of sun into this dark dark place.

He places her down softly and the way here hair falls around her head, it makes her looks like an Angel. Halo and everything. And she’s smiling. She’s happy. She wants him. Him. Of all people.

Then she take off her shirt and unclasped her bra and he is over and done. Like this is fucking heaven. It has to be.

He needs a moment just to take her in. All her radiant glory. All her beauty. Raw and unfiltered and unobscured. Just her.

He’s in love with this woman.

It’s an epiphany that is both monumental and casual as can be. It’s a fundamental truth that is now part of him the way his tattoos are, the way his mother’s death is, the way his absolute inadequacy is.

He is Angel Reyes and he is in love with this woman.

“ Baby you are a goddess.”

And he means it. Every word of it.

She blushes, looks away, then back at him. He softly takes his face in between her hands, strokes his cheek.

“ I uh — It’s been a while. Just thought you should know. “

“ But you want this ? “

“ So much. I want you, Angel. “

He doesn’t answer, not verbally at least. He answers with kisses. To her lips, her neck. Up and down her chest.

He answers with his tongue and it circles her nipples, worshipping her in the most delicious of ways. She’s squirming, letting out little sighs of pleasure. God this girl is gonna be the death of him.

In the matter of minutes, they both slip out of their pants and underwear. Being completely naked with her feels different than it ever felt. There’s no fireworks or butterflies or any of that Hollywood movie, high school love story, bullshit.

It’s raw and vulnerable and a little bit scare. Because this woman doesn’t just see his body. He gets to show her all of him. Even the things he doesn’t want to see himself. He is naked in all the ways a person can be naked. And he relished in it. Because sometimes, he thinks, facing your fears might just be worth it.

Callie wraps her leg around his waist. Urging him closer. Asking him to move.

So he does. And it feels like it always does, warm and wet and — just so good.

But there’s something completely different about all of this. Like some rosy tint rests over all of it. Like they’re caught in a bubble where bad things don’t exist for the time being. Just them.

His hands roam her body, hers grab his shoulders, fingernails running down his back with every move, every thrust. Moans echo around the room, filling it with bliss. With comfort. She’s moving against him in a steady, melodic rhythm, like waves crashing against the shore.

Maybe, he thinks, this can be home. Not the walls or the roof or the rooms. But her.

Callie is perched on a chair in the dining room, watching Angel scurry around the kitchen. The smell of bacon fills the air as her shirtless boyfriend prepares their lunch.

Wait, boyfriend ? Is he ? It feels like it. Like a boyfriend girlfriend situation. But they haven’t really talked about it. So is it fair to call him that in her head ?

“ I can hear you thinking from all the way over here. What’s up, baby ? You regretting this ? “

She’s in one of his plaid shirts, sipping from a freshly brewed cup of coffee, wallowing in post orgasmic bliss while he’s preparing a bacon and cheese burger for her. How could she ever regret any of this ?

Though his words sound joking, she knows he is anything but. There’s an edge in there. One that lets her know he’s being serious beneath the teasing.

“ Never. I don’t regret a single second with you, Angel Reyes. “

And now it’s his turn to blush.

“ Just wish you’d put on a shirt when cooking. You’re gonna burn yourself, I can see it now. “

“ Ah, just gonna make my front match my back. “ he points out, motioning to his shoulder blades painted lovely shades of pink, lines of scratches up and down them.

“ Sorry about that. “

“ Yeah don’t apologize for it. Just means I did a good job. “

“ Oh you did. “

They smirk at each other and for a second she wants to drag him back to bed. Or do it right here. On the kitchen table.

Though her stomach rumbling pulls them out of their loving haze.

“ Someone’s hungry. “ Angel says, then moves back towards the stove. He delicately stacks the burger, puts so much effort into it. She thinks it’s cute. To see how much he cares about such trivial, unimportant things just because he wants to make her feel welcome and happy and comfortable. Just because it’s her. She likes that he makes an effort. Even if it’s just a fucking burger.

“ Bon appetit. It’s the special Angel burger. “ Angel annouces and places a plate in front of her.

“ Oh is it ? What makes it special ? “

“ Well, I made it and my name is Angel. “

“ Is it made with extra love ? “ she asks, and Angel takes her hand in his, kisses her knuckles and nods. “ With all the love in the world, baby. “

Callie’s eyes trail down his arms, widen a little as they stop on one particular spot.

“ That’s new. “

“ Huh ? “ he follows her eyes. Stops at the little delicate piece of art now permanently edged into his skin. “ Oh yeah. Got it last night. “

“ That’s the ursa major “

“ Mmhh. “

“ That’s kinda my name. “

“ Aaah nah. “

“ Angel. You got a tattoo for me ? “

“ Maybe I really like stars n shit. “

“ Do you ? “

“ Or maybe I just really like you. So what ? “

It’s right here, right now. Sitting on his kitchen chair in his shirt, looking at his tattoo and eating the food he made for her. Right here and now that she notices how important this man has become to her.

How hard she’s falling for him.

How irrevocably and undeniably in love with him she really is.

“ I’m falling in love with you, Angel Reyes. “

It’s the words he wants to hear but he’d be a liar if he said they don’t scare him shitless. There’s pressure that comes with them. Responsibility. And that’s not something he’s known to be particularly good at.

But he wants to try. He wants to be good. Wants to be better. Wants to be enough.

“ Yeah ? Well that’s good cause I’m crazy about you, Callie. You’re my sun and all my stars. “

It’s awfully cheesy. It’s true though. Nothing’s ever been more true in all his life, he’s fairly sure about that.

“ Hey Angel, what are you doing today ? “

“ Dunno, nothing really. Gonna head to the scrapyard later. Other than that, nothing. “

“ D’you wanna come pick up Daisy with me ? We can go get ice cream or something. I just — I wanna have one good day with my favorite people before I deal with the shop. “

The thought of them 3 going to get ice cream. Of them sharing a day of pure fun and love and affection. He can’t help but let his heart soar for a second. Is this what it feels like ? Being part of a family that cherishes you ? He hopes he gets to keep this little family he found all on his own. That he gets to feel this giddy excited feeling for a long time.

That he gets to be with these girls for many more days to come.

He knows there’s a lot of shit that needs to be dealt with and that Travis guy is on the very top of the list.

But today, for one single day, he’ll let it all fall into the background and focus on this new found happiness that’s suddenly taking over his life.

All he wants is one day. And that’s what he’s gonna take.

“ That sounds like a pretty fucking great idea. “

So he sends EZ a text telling him to keep an eye out for the silver car. For the guy driving it.

And with his mind a little at ease, he kisses Callie once, twice, three times.

Their troubles don’t vanish and his demons don’t cease to exist, but they can wait until tomorrow.

Today’s for kissing and ice cream and love.

#angel reyes imagine #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes fanfic #angel reyes x reader #mayans mc imagine #mayans imagine #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans fanfiction #mayans fanfic

59 notes · View notes

queenxxxsupreme · 4 years

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What Consumes Us (biker!Geralt)

Chapter 5

A/N: guuuuuuys so I hit a little bit of writer’s block for the sixth chapter which was why I was delaying putting this one out. I thought I was going to have to change some things but I figured it out and we are good to go!! As always I want to give a huge huge HUGE thank you to @jensensjaredsandmishaslover for being my beta. I love you babe<3 I also want to give credit to @justyouraveragemainblog for ALWAYS letting me bounce ideas off of her and for giving me inspiration for this story. You’re absolutely amazing babe:)

Warnings: none, angsty I think????

Word Count: 4.1k

Here is the rest of the chapters for What Consumes Us.

“Geralt will stay with you tonight until we can find somewhere else for you to go.” Tissaia spoke as she moved swiftly and gracefully towards the door that led to the bar.

Romina was absolutely drained. There was a weight on her shoulders and she still felt nauseous. Her mind was going a million miles a second but at the same time, she couldn’t think of anything. All she wanted was to go home and take a shower, and maybe sleep for a week.

“Romina?” Geralt’s voice pulled her from her swirling thoughts. She turned her head to look at the door Tissaia had left through. “Come on. It’s almost two in the morning.” She stood to her feet and followed him out of the break room.

***

Geralt’s truck rumbled as he put it into park. The engine died when he turned it off and pulled the keys out of the ignition.

Romina had been silent the entire ride to her apartment. Her eyes stared out of the window to her right, her hands on her thighs squeezing every now and then. In the back seat, Roach was laying down with her head resting on her paws.

The Witcher glanced over to Romina, sighing softly through his nose. He didn’t know what to do, what to say to make her feel better. He could sense her confusion, her anger. Her mind was in a great turmoil. She took a quiet deep breath and blinked, bringing herself from her thoughts. She turned her head to meet Geralt’s gaze.

“Do you often get put on babysitting duty?”

He almost cracked a smile. At least she was well enough to tease him like she usually did.

“Only when it comes to unstable Sources.” He stuffed the keys to his truck into his jacket and opened the door. This caused the lights in the cab to turn on. Romina was still looking at him, not making an effort to get out of the truck. “What?”

“I just…. I haven’t thanked you for earlier today.” She spoke quietly, letting her gaze fall to her hands. “You were shot and Tissaia yelled at you for something you couldn’t control. For something I did.”

“Tissaia didn’t yell at me.” Geralt stepped out of his truck and closed the driver’s side door. He opened the door right behind him and whistled once. Roach jumped down from the back seat. “I’ve seen her yell only a handful of times in the decades I’ve known her. She didn’t yell. She was just frustrated. Having a Hellcat kill a Black Sun could spark a war if Cahir decides to retaliate.”

Romina watched him close the door and then move around the front of the truck to her door. She didn’t intend to stay in the truck, to make him open the door for her. She just couldn’t get herself to think straight, to think of what she needed to do next. All she could do was sit there. Her limbs felt heavy, like someone tied weights to each of them. Geralt pulled her door open and waited patiently for her to unbuckle and slip down from the seat.

“I didn’t mean to kill him, you know.” She whispered, standing barely a foot from him. She looked up at the tall man. Tears glossed her eyes and she bit her bottom lip for a moment. “I didn’t mean to.”

“There’s not a Source in history that didn’t accidentally kill someone.” Geralt closed the door to the truck as she moved towards her apartment building. “You’ve heard of Cirilla.”

It was a statement but he paused to make sure she confirmed his thoughts. Romina nodded softly. They started for the elevator. She pushed the up button.

“She killed at least a dozen people in the process of learning to control herself.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Romina glanced over to him.

“I never said it would.”

***

Romina closed the door to her apartment behind Geralt then locked the bolt and slid the chain across the top of the door.

“Um, you can sleep on the couch.” Romina absentmindedly rubbed her arm. “I promise it’s more comfortable than it looks.”

“I won’t be sleeping tonight.” He shook his head, his eyes flickering around the room. She nodded her head softly.

“There extra blankets in the closet down the hall if you change your mind.” She started to move towards her room. “Good night, Geralt.”

“Good night, Romina.”

***

Romina stepped into the shower, closing her eyes as the hot water made contact with her skin. She closed the door to the shower and then put herself directly underneath the falling water. Her eyes closed and her chest tightened. A sudden sob broke from her lips. One of her hands covered her mouth while the other held on to the shower wall. Her head fell as she cried into her hand, trying to muffle the sound.

The water soaked her hair, making the long brunette strands cling to her neck and face. The weight on her chest was too much to bear. Her whole life she had been kept from the truth, from knowing who she was-what she was. Her uncle ran the Black Sun. He might have had something to do with her father’s death, and she killed a man.

The latter alone was enough to break her down to tears. Guilt filled her entirety, absorbing her every thought and making every inch of her body numb. The water burned her skin but she didn’t move. She deserved the pain. The mental anguish wasn’t enough.

***

Geralt lifted his head as he heard the door to Romina’s room open. He had heard her over a half an hour ago crying in the shower. He could hear her frantic heart beating, hear her muffled cries from behind her hand.

Romina emerged from the hallway, her arms tightly wrapped around herself. She was dressed in a pair of black joggers and a white hoodie with the coat of arms for Kaedwen on the chest just above her heart. It was a black unicorn within a gold square. Her still damp hair was left down. She tucked a few pieces behind her ear.

“I-I just wasn’t sure if you wanted company or not…. since you aren’t sleeping.” Her voice was raspy. She cleared her throat. “I can’t sleep. There’s too much…. too much going on.”

He said nothing. He was sitting in a chair in the dining room closest to one of the windows.

Romina sat down on the sofa, curling her legs up underneath herself.

“Just a few months ago, I lived in Kaedwen.” She wanted to talk, needed to talk. She needed to do something, whether he’d talk back or not. “I moved here because I wanted to be closer to my mother after my father died. She…. She loved him more than anything. I wasn’t sure how losing him would've affected her.”

Geralt listened to her carefully, curious to know more about her.

“I’m from Ard Carraigh. I was a paramedic.” The little smile crossed her lips. “I was damn good at my job. Earned myself a nickname. The Angel of Ard Carraigh. My co-workers…. They’d call me a miracle worker.” She dropped her gaze to her hands, her fingers uncurling as she studied her hands. “Anyone I laid my hands on, they’d overcome whatever illness or injuries they had.”

Geralt noticed the way her fingers trembled just slightly. She curled her hands back up and pushed the sleeves of her hoodie down over her hands. She placed them in her lap as if she was hiding her hands.

“The man you killed isn’t worth your worry. He was a criminal.”

“It wasn’t in my place to kill him though.” Romina shook her head, taking a deep breath to keep herself from crying. “Just because he was a bad man, that doesn’t mean it was okay for me to take his-to take his life.”

Geralt felt sorry for this woman. She was practically hurled into this life, into a life she should’ve grown up in. She would’ve adjusted easier had she been introduced to the ways of the Hellcats at a young age.

Roach left her place by Geralt’s feet and went to Romina. The dog jumped onto the sofa next to Romina and placed her head on her lap. Romina smiled softly, rubbing Roach’s head.

“Have you killed someone before?” Her voice lowered to a soft whisper as she looked across the room to him. The Witcher held her gaze, tilting his head up just a little.

“Yes.”

Hearing his answer didn’t make her feel any better like she thought it would. Romina nodded softly and looked down at her hands.

"Why does Cahir want me? He’s-He’s my uncle. He shouldn’t be trying to kidnap me or kill me or-or whatever he’s sending people to do to me.”

“It’s for the same reason Calanthe gave the okay to bring you into our world.” Geralt leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “You have the potential to be powerful.”

“If Calanthe’s granddaughter is a Source just like me, then why can’t she do what they all want me to do?”

“Because Cirilla is only sixteen. Calanthe doesn’t have the time to wait until Ciri is old enough.”

Romina nodded again. She looked down at Roach, smiling softly as the dog’s eyes met hers.

“Who are her parents? Cirilla’s?” Geralt paused, clearly surprised that she asked the question.

“They died when Cirilla was young. It was a car accident.”

“Did you raise her?” Romina couldn’t help her curiosity. She would’ve never pictured the brooding, intimidating man to be a father.

“With Calanthe’s help.” Geralt nodded his head once, tearing his eyes away from Romina. She smiled softly.

“I’d like to meet her someday.” She looked up at him through her lashes. His golden eyes flickered over to her. Geralt nodded his head gently.

“You should try to get some rest.” He stood to his feet and moved towards the window. His leather jacket was laying across the back of the chair he had previously been sitting in. The black henley he wore fit his torso and arms snuggly, accentuating his toned arms and his broad shoulders. The sleeves were pushed up to just below his elbows, revealing the tattoos on his forearms.

The left one had the scene of a creek down by his wrist. Stones and rocks lined the creek and the bottom of a tree peeked out from the bottom of the sleeve that was pushed up to his elbow. The right forearm contained a snake wrapping around him with the head resting on the back of his right hand. Romina couldn’t help but gaze at the markings as he went to the window that overlooked the street below. He pulled the curtain back just a hair. As if on cue, she yawned, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She smiled down at Roach and then stood up. “Can I…. Can I just take a look at your side? It’s going to eat me up all night if I at least don’t check on it. You should’ve gotten stitches and I-I was going to do it but then the cops and Tissaia showed up and Jaskier was knocked out…. Oh shit! I forgot about him-,”

“Your friend is fine.” He assured her. “And I’m fine too. No need to worry.”

Romina held his gaze, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She bit her bottom lip, trying to think of a way to get him to agree to letting her just look at the wound. The paramedic in her was dying to make sure he was okay. The wound should’ve put him in the hospital. Geralt let out a sigh through his nose and rolled his eyes.

“Fine.“

“Thank you.” Romina smiled just a little and moved towards him.

He pulled the material of his shirt up just enough for her to see the area where he’d been shot. The skin below his ribs were void of any open wound. Where he had been shot, there was a bullet scar. It was lighter than the rest of his pale skin.

“That’s amazing.” She breathed in awe, reaching out to tentatively touch the scar with her fingertips.

When her fingers made contact with him, he inhaled carefully. Romina, thinking she hurt him, drew her hand back to herself and looked up at him.

“I-I’m sorry-,”

“I’m fine. I told you I was.” He tugged his shirt back down into place. “Now go sleep.”

Romina nodded her head, biting her lip as she took a few steps away from him. She bumped into the end table by the sofa and turned to make sure she didn’t knock anything off.

“I’ll-I’ll see you in the morning.” She turned and quickly made her way towards her room.

***

The Next Morning

Romina knocked on the opened door to Tissaia’s office. It was just before 10:30a.m. and the staff of Aretuza was busy preparing for the day. Romina wasn’t on the schedule to work but Tissaia requested she come in anyways.

“I didn’t expect you so early.” Tissaia put the papers in her hand down and folded her hands in her lap.

“I need….” Romina trailed off, her eyes flickering down to the floor. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a steady deep breath through her nose and out through her lips. Her heart was racing in her chest. She wasn’t sure why it was doing this, but it made breathing and focusing on her thoughts difficult. “There’s a lot on my mind right now.”

“You need a distraction.” Romina nodded her head even though it wasn’t a question. Tissaia looked back to her desk and then to her watch.

“I have an idea. Geralt suggested you learn a little self defense. He said you do pretty badly when it comes to defending yourself.”

“I’ve never had to fight, Tissaia.” Romina moved into the office, sitting down in a chair in front of her desk. “I’m-I’m completely new to this whole ‘fight or die’ gang shit.”

“We aren’t a gang, mouse.” Tissaia corrected her. “We are organized. We have a code, and we have morals. We aren’t a band of thugs going around committing petty larcenies.”

Romina’s gaze dropped to her hands and she nodded softly.

“There’s a hierarchy, mouse, a food chain. And right now, you are at the bottom of that food chain. Without Geralt, you’d be dead already. Self defense is something you must learn in order to survive in this world.”

Romina said nothing.

“Lift your head, mouse.”

The brunette slowly lifted her head, her eyes finding Tissaia.

“What happened to the fire I saw in your eyes the day Cahir came?” The Rectress tilted her head to the side just a little.

“I killed someone, Tissaia.” She whispered. “I-I should be in prison right now, not here.”

“You wouldn’t last a day in prison, mouse. The man you killed deserved to die. He was a murderer himself.”

Hearing those words did little to comfort Romina.

"I wouldn’t have brought you into this if I didn’t have faith in you, in what you can become.” Tissaia’s voice lowered and a softness took over her harsh tone. “I don’t waste my time on lost causes. You will experience many, many hardships in the near future. But you cannot linger on them. Do you understand what I’m telling you, little mouse?”

“Yes.” Romina nodded her head once more.

“Good. Since you are here early, I’d like to discuss your current living arrangements. You live in Tanwen, correct?”

Romina nodded again.

“That is the Cahir’s territory. How would you feel about moving to Etolia?”

“Etolia?” Romina hadn’t heard of that part of Cintra.

“It’s just around the corner from here. And Yennefer and Triss live there in the Towers of Etolia. You currently don't have a vehicle, is that correct?”

“I’m working on it, but right now I take the bus or walk.”

“Etolia would be safer for you. It’s more ideal that you live closer to others like you. Should anything happen, Yennefer or Triss are there for you.”

“Do I really have a choice?” Romina furrowed her eyebrows together.

“I’m afraid not. If Calanthe sees that one of her own is living in territory of the Black Sun, she could see it as though you’ve turned on her.”

Romina said nothing. Her stomach churned at the thought of being Black Sun territory.

***

Having nothing better to do, Romina ventured out to the bar. It wasn’t yet time to open, meaning the only ones present were staff members. She took a seat at the end of the bar, crossing her arms and resting her head on them. She felt so exhausted, so worn and weak.

“Here, love.” Triss placed a cup of coffee down in front of Romina. She lifted her head and offered the mage a half-ass smile. “How are you feeling, Romie?”

“Not the greatest, to be honest.” Romina wrapped her hands around the warm cup.

Something moving in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Further down the bar from her was Yennefer and Geralt. The former sat on a stool, her legs crossed. The white haired man stood close to her. Yennefer brushed her fingers over the sleeve to his leather jacket.

“I wasn’t aware they were a thing.” Romina brought her eyes back to her drink.

“Yennefer and Geralt?” Triss raised her brows. “They haven’t been a thing for ages.”

“She seems like his type. Rough and…. aggressive.”

“Yennefer isn’t one for settling down.”

“He wanted to?” Romina furrowed her eyebrows together.

“She didn’t want more than anything casual.” Triss’s voice dropped to a quiet whisper as Geralt turned away from Yennefer and started making his way towards her.

Romina very briefly met his gaze before looking at Triss.

“Hello, Geralt.” She greeted with a smile.

“Triss.” He nodded once to her. Romina could feel his eyes boring holes into the side of her head. “Are you ready to get back to your apartment?”

“Tissaia must be paying you well to babysit me.” Romina lifted the coffee up to her lips and took a drink. She placed the mug back down on the counter and took a deep breath. “I don’t know anyone who follows around someone with as much trouble as me.”

“I’m just…. I’m going to go.” Triss moved away from the two.

“I’m not in the mood for games today, Romina.”

“Yeah? Well I’m not in the mood to be followed around!” She couldn’t help but raise her voice. All of the emotions inside had been festering, bubbling and boiling until they grew to be too much. “Since you came into my life, I’ve had problem after problem!”

She slipped from the bar stool she was perched on and turned to face him, standing nearly toe to toe with the massive man. She gazed up at him with anger in her eyes. They held each other’s gaze, neither one looking away as a few people moved into the room to watch.

“You can’t blame me for your problems, Romina.” Geralt kept his voice even and calm. “I’m not the only one Tissaia’s had follow you around.”

Romina’s brows drew together as she took in his words.

Something moved out of the corner of her eye. Jaskier stood near the entrance to the bar. Her attention was taken from the Witcher and turned to the only person she deemed a friend in Cintra.

“Jaskier?” She turned to face her.

“Hi, love.” He lightly waved at her.

“You…. You’re one of them?” She whispered.

“I-,”

“He’s one of us.” Tissaia spoke from the edge of the hallway. Romina didn’t look at her. “You’ve had one of us watching you since you stepped foot in Cintra. Whether it be Geralt or Jaskier, you’ve been protected.

“Is there anyone else you have that’s lying for you?” Romina spoke through her teeth to the Rectress.

“No.”

“Good. I’m done with this bullshit.” She shook her head and turned to leave, raking her fingers through her dark hair.

“Should one of us go after her?” Triss looked to Tissaia. The doors to the bar swung open and closed behind Romina.

“Not yet. Let her cool down.” Her eyes flickered to Geralt, who had his hands curled into tight fists by his sides. His golden eyes, swirling with frustration and annoyance, were focused on the door Romina disappeared out of. “It’s best not to let her words get to you-,”

“It’s not her words towards me that I’m concerned about.” Geralt turned his head to Tissaia. “You’ve seen what happens when a Source loses control. Ciri nearly reduced Aretuza to ash when she thought Calanthe died in the collapse of the Yaruga bridge. You must have extreme faith in Romina’s ability to control herself.”

“The very fact that she has yet to lose complete control of herself is a sign of her strength.” Tissaia tilted her chin up just a bit.

“You’re pushing her limits, Tissaia. I can feel the Chaos radiating off of her.”

“She’s been through a lot, Geralt.” Triss looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. “Why’d you have to tell her about Jaskier?”

“The kid was going to fuck up at some point. May as well have been me that told her.”

“What?” Jaskier’s eyes widened.

“What’s your game plan, Tissaia?” Yennefer crossed her arms as she leaned against the bar. She knew the Rectress always had something planned. There was never a time when she wasn’t two steps ahead.

“Romina isn’t some pawn in your game.” Geralt said.

“She’s not one of us, Tissaia.” Yennefer’s eyes briefly flickered over to the Witcher before she looked back to Tissaia. “She’s going to be killed the longer you pretend she is one of us.”

“She didn’t grow up in our world, Yennefer.” Tissaia reminded her. “How Emmaline raised her daughter was none of my business until Romina showed signs of being a conduit. She had a normal childhood, which can’t be said for any of you.”

As she looked around at Geralt, Yennefer, Triss, and the other staff members who were watching from the doorway of the kitchen.

“Death and betrayal, those are all things that have hardened each and every one of you. You’ve been subjected to it for most of your life, whether it be before you came here or after. Romina was protected her entire life. Barrett and Emmaline made sure nothing of our world would sully her. That is why she’s taken these last few days so harshly, why she is on edge. We must be patient with her.”

Tissaia’s gaze fell on Geralt.

“Getting irritated with her when she snaps at you isn’t going to help anyone.”

The Witcher growled from deep within his chest. He turned and stormed out of the bar.

***

Hours later, Romina sat inside her apartment. After aimlessly walking around Cintra for the better half of the day, she retired to her apartment to hopefully get some rest and figure out what she was going to do.

She didn’t want to be a part of the Hellcats. She was uncomfortable with how okay everyone was that she murdered someone. That wasn’t the environment she wanted to be in. They were liars too. Jaskier pretended the whole time that they were friends. She confided in him and trusted him.

Romina shook her head, gripping the mug of coffee in her hand tighter. She lifted her head and looked around the room. Her eyes fell on the window Geralt always looked out of.

Feeling a little paranoid, she stood to her feet and placed the coffee cup on an end table as she crossed the room. She folded her arms beneath her breasts and pulled the curtain back a little. Peaking out into the darkening street, she could spot a few people walking down the sidewalk. On the other side of the street from her apartment building sat a police car. It had been sitting there since she arrived home a few hours ago.

Just as she turned to go to bed, her eyes caught a familiar black truck sitting just a little further down the street than the cop car. She watched the truck for a few moments, knowing very well who was inside of it. It aggravated her that Tissaia would still send him to babysit her even after Romina expressed her dislike in being followed.

“Assholes.” She muttered under her breath. She moved towards the front door, slipping on a pair of boots.

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stanathieluris · 6 years

Text

Just What I Needed

or, as i’ve been referring to it in my head, The Concert Fic

summary: Eddie has been studying abroad one year in France. When he gets back, he’s greeted by his beloved friends and some unfinished business.

pairings: reddie, side stenbrough

warnings: characters are aged up (19), underage drinking.

notes: i know i say this in all my fics but english is not my first language so yea, please be nice. likes/reblogs/comments/feedback is very much apreciated! also, this is my first time attempting to write a multichaptered fic so idk how this is gonna turn out

spotify playlist w some songs i guess that inspired me to write this??

“Remind me again why am I here”.

The music is loud, the air thick with the smell of sweat, there are way too many people breaking into his personal space, and worst of all, the floor is extremely sticky. Eddie can’t help to bounce on the balls of his feet nervously, afraid that, if he stays still, his nikes will get stuck on the spot forever. The place is called The Sewers and honestly, Eddie couldn’t have come up with a better fitting name.

Stan smirks at him “I told you, to catch up and stuff!” he exclaims, putting his arm over Eddie’s shoulders.

“We could’ve done this in a nice cafe” the short boy huffs “where everything is quiet and nice and, you know, fucking clean”.

“Hey, don’t diss the bar” his friend laughs. Eddie wants to do more than diss the bar. He wants to bring all the disinfectant he owns, bleach and clean the place from floor to ceiling. But he has to restrain himself.

“Anyway, why did we come here? It doesn’t look like your kind of scene” Eddie asks, eyeing the sea of punks, mods and goths that surrounded them. Eddie stares at their creative outfits and hairstyles, and compares them with Stan’s turtle neck, pressed pants and polished shoes. He looks like an outsider to the place.

“Eh, I’m kind of a regular here now” he shrugs. “Plus, there’s a free concert and the band is kind of good”.

Eddie hasn’t seen Stan in over a year, and while it’s true that they messaged from time to time and exchanged emails monthly, he sure feels like they’ve fallen out of touch. Although he still has the same mop of curly hair (just a bit longer) and keeps making those deadpan serious comments that leave you double guessing if he is joking or not, there’s no way to deny that Stan has changed. Is not only the way he dresses, more elegantly and fashionable (finally ditching the khakis and pressed shirts), but also on the way he puts himself out, more relaxed and laid back, less tense, as if in the past year he had dropped a huge weight off his shoulders that he had been carrying around for his whole life. Eddie knew he was going to miss a lot from his friends lives while he was away, but he is starting to realize just how much ‘a lot’ can be.

“When is Bill getting here?” Eddie asks.

“Give it, ten minutes? Fifteen max” Stan answers while checking his wristwatch “Do you want to order something while we wait on him?”.

The sole thought of touching anything of this bar with his hands, much less with his mouth, nauseates Eddie, but it’s either that or being sober and hyper aware of all the stains and nasty smells that surround him, and suddenly being at least tipsy doesn’t sound that bad.

“Lead the way Uris”.

They make their way to the bar, swimming between the tight pack of people around them. When they reach it, Stan calls a very big and menacing bartender that greets him with a smile and wonders if he will have the usual. He also asks him where did he leave his boy, and Stan blushes.

“What did he mean by ‘your boy’?” Eddie asks when the bartender is gone.

“Well…” the blush on Stan’s cheeks deepens, reaching his ears and he gets this sheepish smile that makes Eddie connect the dots.

“Oh my god. Oh my god!” he gasps “Don’t tell me that it finally happened”.

Before Stan can answer, someone ruffles his hair.

“Would you look at that! Eddie Kaspbrak in the flesh!”.

Eddie turns around to see not only Bill, but Bev with him.

“Guys!” he exclaims, hugging both of them at the same time, sloppily and almost tripping. He can’t help it. He has missed his friends.

“Holy shit I’d forgotten how tiny you were Eddie.” Bev laughs, drawing her arms around his shoulders “Your hugs were always the best”.

“You’ve gotten soft Marsh” Eddie laughs.

“W-We missed you a luh-lot” Bill says, smiling wide.

“I’ve missed you guys too” he holds them a bit tighter.

“Okay guys, cut it out, we are going to get too emotional” Stanley jokes.

They let got of the group hug and Eddie gets a better look at them. Bill is looking at him with a spark on his eyes that he hadn’t seen before, and a wide smile on his face. He seems more confident, more grounded, and Eddie can tell that from his stance to the reassured smirk on his face.

“What the fuck Denborough? You pierced your ears?” he exclaims when he notices the two small hoops on his left ear.

Bill laughs out loud “Damn, you should s-see Bev’s collection”.

Like on cue, the girl shows off not only her wide collection of piercings in various places of her ears and face (that septum nose ring suits her like hell), but sticks her tongue at Eddie, almost making him faint.

“Oooh my goood Bev, do you know what could happen to you if that shit would get infected?” he babbles while giving a pointed look to the small silver ball that pierces Bev’s tongue, earning a good laughter from his friends.

“Man I really missed your nagging Eddie” she hugs him again and even though the small boy wants to lecture her a bit more, he smiles.

“I’ve missed you all too” he whispers, pretty sure that Bev is the only one able to hear him.

“So, how was France?” Stan asks, a sly smile on his face.

“Amazing holy shit” Eddie blabbers, letting go of Bev “like, Europe? On a whole other level, I’m not kidding you guys”.

“Wuh-Well, it’s very different from D-Derry” Bill smiles at his best friend’s energy.

“Did you had escargots?” Bev asked.

Eddie shivers “No, no, no, no, no, no. We don’t mention escargots” his friends laugh at his disgusted face.

“Are boys as pretty as they look in movies?” Stan then interjects, winking at Bill, who just smiles back. Eddie makes a mental note to interrogate his best friend about whatever thing is happening between him and Stan.

“Like straight out of a dream” he sighs dreamily “They were all full lips, soft skin, sharp jaws and perfectly combed curls”.

“What the fuck happened to you and when did you become such a poet!” Bev exclaims, ruffling once again his hair. He has missed the affectionate gesture “And you say I have turned soft”.

“Hey! I’ve always been soft” he complains.

Stan scoffed “Yeah right, because I was the one who put Greta and her asshole friends in their place back in sixth grade”.

“Or when yuh-you r-ranted like a ruh-rabid dog to th-those mean kids that made fun of my stutter in f-freshman year” Bill added.

“Or when you almost got into that fight with the cheer squad for making fun of Ben” Bev smiled.

“Or when-”

“Okay, okay! I get it!” he exclaims, feeling himself turn red.

“Admit it Kaspbrak, you’ve always been a feisty little punk” Stan teases him. Eddie rolls his eyes and takes another sip from his drink.

“Talking about Ben, where is he?” Eddie asks turning to Bev.

“He should be joining us any second” she answers, checking her phone “Yup, he just texted me he’s almost here! And Mike is coming with him too”.

“Awesome!” Stan exclaims “The losers back together, this is amazing”.

“S-softie”.

“Shut up Bill”.

Eddie wants to jump into the comfortable banter his friends have fallen into, but he can’t help but think about Stan has said

The losers back together

Yeah, almost all of them.

One year ago

He checks his luggage for the hundredth time, making sure that he has his passport, plane ticket and student visa with him. His hands are shaking, and he can feel his whole body vibrate. Bill helps him taking all his suitcases down to the dorm’s driveway, where Mike is waiting for them. In silence, they all pack Eddie’s belongings into the car’s trunk.

The trip to the airport is awkward and silent. Eddie doesn’t stop looking out the window, taking in all the sights of Derry (and Maine), the ones he’s gonna miss for a whole year. Bill puts his hand on his shoulder and squeezes it reassuringly. He smiles at his friend, lifting the gaze from the landscape. There’s nothing left to say, they have spilled all the unsaid things the night before, the only night ever Sonia Kaspbrak has let his son invite over his best friend for a sleep over.

When they arrive to the airport, it’s like everything hits Eddie all of a sudden. He steps out of the car and starts crying, tripping and almost falling if it wasn’t for Mike, ready to catch him. They stay a couple of minutes like that, the muscular boy holding the sobbing mess Eddie has turned into while Bill picks all the bags by himself. When Eddie seems to calm down (and takes a puff of his inhaler) they go inside.

Bev has really outdone herself this time. The banner reads “GOODBYE EDDIE” with pastel colours and glitter and stars surrounding them. The paper looks cheap and the letters are crooked, but Eddie thinks it’s the most beautiful thing his friend has ever painted. Next to her are the rest of the losers, smiling widely and on the verge of tears.

The first one to break from the group is Ben, who tells him how much he is going to miss him, how biology is going to stink without him to make fun of Mr King’s crooked glasses, and that he should check the Sorbonne library because the place is straight out of a dream. Eddie promises him to do so, that he will check every single book and sneak him some pictures, choking back the tears, thanking him for being such an amazing friend.

The next one is Stan, who hugs him so tightly, Eddie is scared he might lose his breath. He feels his friend tremble and it just hits him so hard, because he has never seen Stan cry, let alone so intensely. He tells Eddie to enjoy France, and Eddie whispers back that he is going to miss his late night text conversations about boys and films and what are they going to do with their lives when they leave together this godforsaken town. When he pulls back, Stan smiles down on him, red-cheeked and bright-eyed.

Bev comes crashing on him, and there are a lot of “i love you”s, snarky comments between tears, hair ruffling and the moment Eddie tells her to “make sure none of them get into trouble or whatever fuck up”, she just places a hand on his cheek, tears rolling down her eyes and nods, muttering a simple, yet full of feeling, bye.

And finally, Richie.

The boy is shaking and it shows, all color drained from his face. Eddie is scared that he might throw up. He can feel all the losers shuffling away from them, which only makes the situation even more awkward. He tries to make eye contact with the trashmouth, but the boy has his eyes locked on the floor. Eddie’s debating whether or not say something, but before he opens his mouth, Richie pulls him into a soft embrace. Eddie pactrically buries his head on the other boys chest and he can feel Richie dropping his face onto his hair, soft lips against chocolate curls.

“Don’t forget about me. About us” he mutters in a raspy voice, quickly adding the last part. Eddie feels himself sob, tears staining Richies shirt.

“I won't” he manages “I promise I won't”.

They pull apart just a couple of inches, and with a swift movement, Richie lifts gently Eddie’s face by the chin, locking eyes with him. They stay like that for a long moment, faces close, eyes locked, tears falling silently. If they wanted, they could kiss.

But they just linger close, no contact whatsoever.

Eddie’s mind always wanders back to that day, especially to that moment in particular. He can’t help it. It’s one of the biggest what ifs of his life. And for the looks of it, it’s going to stay a mystery forever if the trashmouth was going to kiss him or not.

He really doesn’t want to acknowledge the elephant in the room, but he needs to know .

“What about Richie?” the question slips his lips before he can shut his mouth.

“What about him?” Bev asks, arching a brow at him.

“Is he coming with Ben and Mike too?” he shoots back, trying to sound as non-chalant as possible. Oh god, could his stomach, please tone it down with the nerves?

“Kind o-” to this day, Eddie doesn’t know what Bev was going to say, because she gets interrupted by a wolf-whistle and a high-pitched noise of static coming from the stage.

“Okay, okay people” a voice booms through the mic, and Eddie spots the big guy from the bar in the stage “now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for. Live tonight at The Sewers for another iconic night, please welcome Trashmouth and the Losers!”.

The noise from the audience is deafening, as three figures rush onto the stage. Eddie stares wide eyed from his spot, and he can’t help but feel that he is going to pass out. Because, right there, in the flesh, in all his beautiful glory, followed by Mike and Ben, is Richie Tozier.

He turns his eyes from the stage to his friends, who try to fight the laughter cause by his mortified expression.

“Surprise” Stan laughs, winking at him.

taglist: @turtleneckrichie @richietoaster @mikexelevenfluff @thecastlebyers @kleinmansbathbombs

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #richie x eddie #eddie x richie #trashmouth tozier #it 2017 #it eddie #it richie #it 2017 fanfic #it 2017 writing #mine

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dramaalpaca · 6 years

Text

Hickory, Oak, Pine and Weed

Summary : Some say the city is his ; some say he is the city. That he is concrete, and steel, and streets painted by thousand upon thousand of lives running through them every single day -the soul of Los Santos, made flesh.

Pairing : FAHC OT6? Sort of?

Warnings : err, fires. A bit of gore.

Word count : 2140

read on AO3

a/n : this was a little writing exercise that turned into a ficlet, so, might as well post it. Heavily inspired by Delta Rae’s song I Will Never Die and the Brothers Bright’s song Blood On My Name.

The earth shakes on a Monday.

Los Santos is no stranger to earthquakes. It agitates the birds, they croak and gather in black clouds against the blue sky. Dogs howl a warning. Nobody pays attention.

The TV flickers in the dim light of a derelict bar. The sound fizzles, lost in the rhythmic thud of glasses hitting tables and the low murmur of private conversations.

The news reporter tells the story of five unidentified corpses found on Mount Chiliad. And if the patrons’ eyes flick to the TV and catch part of the report, their attention quickly wavers.

Los Santos is a dangerous city. Death is nothing new.

***

There is a legend, one that has travelled through the streets like a summer’s breeze, quiet but persistent. The people of Los Santos know it like they know their ABCs. Not one of them can say they where they heard it first. As with all legends, it came from nowhere and it went everywhere.

It tells of a man whose eyes burn like flames, who can hide in any shadow and slip through any door. He kills without a noise and is gone without a trace. A shadow in the corner of your eye, a curse following your steps in the dark of the night.

Some say the city is his ; some say he is the city. That he is concrete, and steel, and streets painted by thousand upon thousand of lives running through them every single day -the soul of Los Santos, made flesh.

It’s an old tale. Everyone knows it, but nobody cares about it anymore.

***

It is the heart of Summer but this Tuesday morning brings thick, dangerous clouds. They curl around the skyscrapers, cast a shadow so dark it feels like the sun never rose.

Bad luck, thinks Los Santos. The late-summer storms are coming earlier than usual.

There is no rain. No thunder, no lightning. Only the clouds, and they trap the suffocating heat of August and the noxious smell of thousands of cars under them. The City sweats, melts ; it chokes on itself.

The old TV in the forgotten bar is flashing, it is dying under the heat and humidity. Anyone looking up at it might catch glimpses of police reports and wonder at the climbing death toll. Gangs are dying. Throats sliced, guts pierced, bodies drenched in gasoline and burned to a crisp until all that is left is an anonymous husk.

But Los Santos is a dangerous city.

***

The man in the legend is a vengeful one. If this City is his, then he does not allow anyone to do with it as they please.

Los Santos is ripe with crime. Street wars are an everyday occurrence, some places are forbidden at night.

But some murders are too clean. Too quick. Too unfathomable. It feeds the legend, even as no one thinks it true. These corpses are the remnants of people who thought themselves kings when they were barely pawns. Bit off more than they could chew and the City bit them back.

Nobody thinks the legends true, but people snicker in the face of anyone who declares themselves ready to take over Los Santos. It will not last long.

***

Tuesday evening comes and the clouds remain.

People look up at the sky, wondering what the weather is bringing. No storm, no rain, but the dark is foreboding. It cuts them off from the rest of the world, shrouds them in a quiet sort of intensity.

Electricity saturates the air. It zaps fingers reaching for door handles, it flashes along power lines. The smell of burnt ozone is descending into the streets as if lightning stroke just next door. The sound of sirens fills the space between buildings.

The heat is unbearable, trapped under the clouds. LSPD officers are sweating as they race to various parts of the city to pick up corpses in pools of blood, being pecked at by croaking crows.

And as night falls and coats the City in almost complete darkness, nervous figures meet up on street corners and under bridges.

The AH Crew was killed, they say. That’s who they found on Mount Chiliad last Sunday. Someone went after them and finally managed to kill them all.

And now, rival gangs are dropping like flies.

***

They were not the first gang to rise to fame. They were the first to do it so quickly, and to stay on top for so long.

They’d been around for years, before suddenly, their network expanded throughout the whole city. Doors opened before them as their opponents lay dead behind them. They became kings, unchallenged and unopposed, defying the one established law of Los Santos : reach the top and the city itself will cut you down.

The city must have… liked them.

They called themselves the Fakes. The AH Crew was what the journalists and the police knew them as. It was their name plastered over the news, their name whispered in both poor and wealthy company.

Nothing could stop them. They crept through the city like blood seeps through cracked pavement. Banks trembled, drug cartels were soon under their thumb. Accepting to be part of their network was benefitting from their protection. Many made that choice -being under their care brought sudden and complete immunity from the dangers Los Santos hid in dark corners.

Bullets aiming for them had the bad habit of hitting concrete walls instead ; so did cars chasing after them. Witnesses never remembered their faces ; victims and partners did, but refused to tell. As when you dealt with the Crew, either you were with them, or you were against them -and may God Himself pray for your soul.

One of their most striking feature, if you believed people who had met them in person, was that you never saw one of them alone. It had long been speculated that taking one of them out was taking out the entire crew, but only once had some asshole managed to kidnap the British one and… well. The severed limbs the police had found the next day in a dumpster had never been to England.

They were six, they were powerful, and their reach grew each day.

And now…

***

The derelict bar has been in Los Santos for generations. The owner likes to say it’s been in his family since the 1920s. It stands in the oldest part of town, the one part that nobody has torn down and built anew on its ashes, its wooden beams apparent against the ceiling. It’s oak, says the owner. A good tree, the Oak tree, he continues to anyone willing to listen. Sturdy and sure. A protector.

The TV above the bar keeps flickering. The sound keeps tuning in and out. And in the corner, a man is smiling, his breath stinking of bad whiskey.

“I didn’t kill them,” he’s telling an even drunker man. “But I was there when they did it! It was beautiful, I’m telling you. Took months to plan. I sowed traitors through their ranks, got their own network to work against them. Lured them out on Chiliad and bam! Got them all. They were arguing among themselves, blaming each other for some stupid shit. Didn’t even notice the ambush until it was too late.”

“Who killed them?” asks the drunker one.

“Doesn’t matter, they’re dead too now. Got too thirsty, eh? You kill the biggest gang in town and suddenly you want to take down everyone else. They pro’bly tried to go after someone else and got their ass handed to them. Me? I don’t want to show off. I’m a quiet guy, me. I did my part, I got paid, and now I’m done.”

“You got five of them.”

“We got six,” grunts the man.

“Five.”

“No, I saw it with my own eyes. Six guys gunned down. The police lost a fucking corpse, I don’t know, but we got them all.”

The drunker man slumps over the table. “D’you think the sixth one woke up?”

“Oh please, you actually believe this shit? Those bastards acted like they were gods and everyone starts believing it? They died like the assholes they were, they weren’t special. Get your head outta your ass.”

Nobody pays attention to the two men.

Above the skyline of Los Santos, the clouds turn even darker. Street lamps light up hours before their time.

A noise, and suddenly yellow sparks bursts out of the TV. The image goes static, frozen on the picture of an ambulance on a street corner, behind yellow police tape.

The TV turns off. The owner grumbles, smacks it on the side. It stays dead.

The lights above head flicker.

“Damn storm,” says one man.

“It’s not storming,” remarks another, looking out of the window. “Just those clouds. Wait…”

He stops talking, his eyes go wide. And the front door bursts open.

For a moment, there’s nobody standing there. It’s as if the wind alone fractured the door, if only there was any wind. A single black bird flies in and perches on an empty table.

Then there’s crackle of electricity, and a shadow appears in the shattered doorframe.

***

The derelict bar had been in Los Santos for generations.

On a Tuesday night, under clouds dark as the deepest night, it goes up in flames.

The fire is quick to spread. It snakes along the streets, taking root in concrete and steel as easily as it would in dry wood.

Alarms and sirens fill the air for a while. Then they stop.

The flames rise higher, reach further. They climb up to the clouds and swallow the city in a matter of hours. Miles and miles of raging inferno.

Cars line the roads outside Los Santos, trying to drive away from the hungry flames reaching for them as if to recall them, bring them back into the city where they belong.

If they’d look toward Mount Chiliad, they would see the silhouette of a man standing alone in the night, watching the fire devour life and concrete. His blue and black jacket torn to shreds, hanging on his body like old rags. His hair falling before his eyes in a mess of filthy strands. He watches quietly.

***

Los Santos is a dangerous place. Very few people have never played a role in any criminal machination. Knowingly or not, small part of bigger one.

To take down a crew as connected as the Fakes, many people had to play a part. Trick, manipulate, twist every word around until all the lies were too entangled together to tell one from the other, until the Fakes themselves were confused and started to blame each other and break apart.

Cheat, in other words. Cheat at a cheating game.

The man in the legend is a vengeful one. If this city is his, then it betrayed him by turning against him and the ones he’d sworn to protect.

And it is his right to cleanse it.

Some of the cheaters will escape, he knows. But not for long. Nobody has ever escaped him. And for the first time in a very, very long time... he will not be alone.

It is with slow and deliberate steps that he walks toward the flames. They reflect in his eyes, dance in his pupils. A bolt of lightning runs along the clouds above head.

He reaches out with a hand. The flames wrap around his arm. They ignite his clothes and swallow him whole as he stands there, unmoving, until there is nothing left of him just as there is nothing left of the city.

Nobody will ever know five corpses are missing from the charred remnants of an LSPD morgue.

***

Down in Georgia, three trees stand in a near-perfect triangle in the middle of an abandoned field long claimed by weed. Crows are resting on their branches, fluffing their feathers.

A man in a pristine black and blue jacket, his long blond hair tied behind his head, walks toward them with slow steps. Every time his feet hit the soft earth, a beat rises to meet them, slow and steady.

He kneels under the bigger tree. From a wooden chest that he did not have with him earlier, he pulls a small object, wet and glistening with red. He sets it aside as he goes to work, digging into the earth with his bare hands until the hole is big enough for the object to rest. He covers it carefully.

He does this five times, with five different objects pulled from the same wooden chest.

Then he sits under the oak tree, rests his back against its bark, and closes his eyes. The beat under him grows louder.

It is soon joined by another. And another, and another, until six beats gently pulse under the earth.

The sun above him is dipping below the horizon. The shadows cast by the trees grow longer.

Something shifts. A warm breeze ruffles the man's hair.

A shadow detaches itself from the tree behind him.

Four others follow.

“Ryan?”

The man smiles. He stands, slowly unfolding his body, and his shadow unfurls behind him like a crow’s wing. His hands are empty, but he closes his fingers around a knife.

“Three of them escaped,” he says slowly.

The five men before him nod. Their previously empty hands are holding guns.

“Let’s get them.”

#fic #ragehappy #fahc #fake ah crew

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thesecretfandom · 7 years

Text

Stuck: Part 2 -- Bughead Au

Word Count: 2,483

Rated: E

A/N: Click here for Part 1. The widely anticipated part 2! Betty and Jughead are out of the elevator, but is the spark still there? Sorry it came out a bit later than expected, but I think the extra time was worth it. Enjoy!

"Hey, kid." Jughead felt a nudge on his shoulder. "Wake up. I think it's about time you head home."

Jughead eyes fluttered open, finding a man in grey coveralls kneeling beside him, looking at him quizzically. Where the hell-? Something moved against his leg and he glanced down. A sheet of blonde hair fanned across his thigh and a name popped into his head. Betty. Jughead smiled at the beautiful girl and remembered the night before; the strawberry daiquiri taste of her lips on his, her nimble fingers pulling at the short hair on the back of his neck.

"Are you okay?" The man said, pulling Jughead out of his daydream. "When did you get stuck in here?"

The dark haired boy stretched his arms, trying to push the sleepy fuzz out of his head. A pink cardigan fell into his lap. "We uh- it stopped around nine-thirty last night."

"Really? And nobody found you?"

Jughead shrugged. "Apparently not. And nobody answered the call button."

"Well, you better wake up your girl and head home."

"Oh, she's not-" As Jughead spoke Betty rolled onto her back, long eyelashes fluttering as she woke. She looked up at Jughead and pulled his jacket up to her chin. Betty smiled at the boy who's lap she'd fallen asleep on. While she was acutely aware that she was laying on the dirty floor of her apartment's elevator, she couldn't stop thinking about Jughead's hands running across her naked back, his lips traveling down her body. She just wanted to get out of this elevator so they could finish what they'd started and fulfill the promise Jughead had given her. Betty's hand slid along the seam of the boy's black jeans until her hand reached his.

"Sure she's not." The new voice in the room said. Betty jumped, not realizing that they were no longer alone. "You two get up now, and take the stairs."

Betty sat up abruptly, her head swimming with the sudden movement. She stood slowly, still holding on to the leather jacket that had kept her warm. The smell of Jughead, which already felt so familiar, permeated the air around her.

Betty followed Jughead out of the elevator, pulling the jacket over her shoulders. She wasn't quite willing to give it up just yet. She followed her pink cardigan, still held in Jughead's large hands, until they got to the stairwell.

"Which floor, m'lady?" Jughead held out his free hand to her. Betty took it willingly, her fingers intertwining with his.

"Sixth floor, kind sir."

Jughead's eyes lit up. He lived on the sixth floor as well, just two flights up from where they stood currently. To think, this girl has been living just a few doors down from him and he only just met her. How could he miss the perky blonde ponytail and the, no doubt, bright wardrobe as she left every day. He supposed she would be the type to get up early, stop for a coffee at the shop around the corner, and still arrive at work ten minutes early. Jughead, on the other hand, stayed home writing until the sun began to set. His inspiration came at night, so he'd walk through the city in the evenings, people watching and creating new worlds in his head.

The two walked in tandem up the stairs, neither one speaking. When they reached the landing for the sixth floor Betty backed through the door, pulling Jughead behind her. She led him just a few doors away from the stairwell and stopped in front on one of them. She extracted one hand from his, digging her keys out of her purse.

"This is me."

Jughead couldn't stop thinking about last night and what she'd said and done. Don't you want me? The things Jughead had wanted to do right then and there, his cheeks flushed at the memory. He couldn't help but wonder if, for her, that was a spur of the moment opportunity.

"I guess this is goodbye." Jughead said quietly, leaning against the doorjamb.

Betty smirked, unlocking the door with ease. "If you ever want to see this jacket again," She whispered, stepping close enough that her breath mingled with his own. "You'll have to come inside and take it off yourself."

With that invitation, Betty slipped inside the door. Jughead drifted in wordlessly behind her, as if drawn to a magnet. When Jughead had cleared the threshold, Betty pressed herself up against him. She stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss, quick but hard, to his lips. Jughead heard the door shut and the lock click behind him.

"I'm going to go freshen up." Betty said, lightly patting his cheek. "Make yourself at home."

Jughead stood, dumbfounded, in the middle of the small studio apartment as Betty slipped into the bathroom. While the layout was the same as his own, somehow the place looked entirely new. Betty had a queen sized bed pressed against the far wall, a small television sitting atop a dresser just opposite. The kitchen was the same, but was stocked with real cooking supplies; pots and pans hung above the sink; a blender, coffeemaker, and toaster huddled together in the corner; and Jughead even snuck a glance in one drawer, where a full set of silverware was nicely organized.

This was nothing like Jughead's apartment. He was barely able to afford his rent most months, so he slept on a couch just long enough to fit his body. No TV or internet connection to speak of, he took his laptop to the diner with free wifi whenever he needed a fix. Jughead's kitchen held a microwave and nothing else. He's never even used his stove. While Jughead's apartment was a place he could live, Betty's was a place he could see himself calling home.

"You ready to make good on your promise, Juggie?"

He hadn't even heard the bathroom door open. Jughead looked up and saw a beautiful, long-legged girl silhouetted in the light from the room behind her. All she wore now was Jughead's leather jacket, zipped just high enough to cover her breasts, but not leaving too much to the imagination. She'd ditched her heels and the tight jeans she'd worn previously.

Jughead couldn't move, hell, he could hardly breathe. Betty smirked at the boy, who she'd once thought was to cool and confident for her, as his face flushed red. The nearly-naked girl swayed her hips as she stepped closer to him. She desperately wanted to see the guy he was last night. The guy who wanted to do things to her, things that he hadn't dared to mention at the time, but could only be good.

"I need you to take a deep breath." Betty whispered, sliding her hands around his waist. "And remember who we were in the elevator." Betty kissed Jughead deeply, her hands pushing her hands against the skin beneath his shirt. "Don't you want me?"

And with those words, Jughead became who he was just hours before. Betty wanted him, that was certain, and he wanted her too. So, what was he waiting for? Jughead's hands firmly gripped Betty's thighs, lifting her up. She responded without thinking, wrapping her legs around his waist. Jughead carried her not toward the bed but to the kitchen. He set the leather-clad girl on the kitchen counter pressing in closer to her, he captured her perfect pink lips with his teeth. Large hands slid up soft legs until he felt the rough tease of lace underwear.

Betty was already pulling at the button of Jughead's jeans, slipping her hands under the waistband and pushing them down as far as she could reach. She allowed her long legs to wrap around Jughead's slender torso. The black haired boy was still ravaging her lips, pressing her against the kitchen cabinets. His hands came up to cup to her face and he held her there. He suddenly pulled his lips away from hers, moving to suck at the sweet spot where her neck met her shoulder. At that precise moment Betty tightened her legs, pulling Jughead's bottom half into her. Betty grinned when the boy groaned into her neck.

"Fuck." Jughead pulled away, his blue eyes boring into Betty's green ones. She blinked slowly, eyes clouded with lust. She glanced down at her outfit, eyes pleading with Jughead to remove the layers separating them. He complied, not one to waste time teasing, and took the zip of the jacket between his fingertips. He let his thumb drag across the newly exposed skin as he removed the jacket that looked better off of her than it did on.

Betty was still wearing a lacy pink bra beneath the leather, Jughead was disappointed to see, but knew she wouldn't be wearing it for long. Betty made quick work removing Jughead's white wife beater. She used this moment to push the boy slightly away from her, just enough so that she could see all of the new skin that had been revealed to her. And Jughead was staring at her too, his hands drifting up her back until his fingers hit the clasp of her bra. He paused, watching as her breasts heaved with each breath she took.

"Come on, Jug." Betty winked, trying to access the boy from last night. She ground her hips into his. "Don't you want me?"

Jughead grinned. "You have no idea what I want to do to you right now."

Betty hooked her thumbs under the waistband of his underwear, tugging them down a little. "Prove it."

With a sudden pinch, Betty's breasts were freed from the confines of the bra that she'd been wearing for far too long. Warm lips were immediately attached to the sensitive skin of her nipple, long fingers moving up the inside of her thighs until they reached the fabric of her lace panties. Jughead pressed his thumb against the warmth that he found there, tracing shapes and making Betty moan. The boy used his free hand to pull at confining fabric, sliding it down the long legs of the girl writhing on the countertop.

Betty kicked her panties off her ankles, hopping off the counter to do the same for her partner. Jughead was one step ahead of her, already shedding the last of his clothing. With Betty standing naked in front of him, Jughead grabbed her hips, roughly spinning her around. As he bent her top half over the counter, Jughead offered a line of kisses down her back. Betty wriggled with anticipation; breasts pressed against the countertop, she pressed her ass back into his erection.

"Wait…" Suddenly, the weight and heat of the boy pressing against her disappeared. No part of him was touching any part of her and Betty whined childishly.

"What?" Betty still hadn't moved from her position, hoping Jughead would come back. "What's wrong?"

Jughead dug in the pocket of jeans, pulling out his wallet. Thank God he believed in the philosophy of better safe than sorry. He'd never had the occasion where he'd needed to use the condom that he kept stashed in his wallet, but today he was glad he'd always kept one there.

"You know," Jughead started, ripping open the package, "Until last night I wasn't sure what 'my type' was." He rolled the condom on and stepped closer to Betty. She sighed at the relief his presence brought her. "But now I'm sure…" He lined up with her entrance, pressing in slightly. "It's blonde ponytails and pink sweaters."

Jughead pushed himself into Betty fully and they both let out matching moans. Jughead began thrusting slowly, fingers gripping hips so hard he was sure he'd leave bruises on Betty's perfect skin. The girl beneath him was moaning and pushing back against him.

"M-more, Juggie." She turned her head so she could see the face of the boy behind her. He held his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes closed as moved inside of her. "Harder."

"Fuck, Betts." Jughead moaned. "You. Are. Perfect." His hands wound their way around her body. Feeling the soft skin of her stomach and breasts. With strong arms, Jughead pulled Betty off the countertop, thrusting into her sharply. His thrusts sped up, skin slapping against skin. Warm, wet lips nibbled at Betty's shoulder.

Betty needed more. Her mouth, her hands…she needed his lips on hers, his hair in her hands. "Kiss me."

Jughead pulled out harshly, wanting nothing more than to do whatever Betty asked him to do. He spun her around so they were face to face. He pushed himself into her again. Betty pressed herself closer to him, lips crashing into his. She dragged her fingernails up his toned back until she reached his neck. She gripped the beanie that Jughead still wore on his head, pulling it off and tossing it onto the countertop next to her. She tugged lightly at the boys dark locks. Jughead didn't even seem to react to the new sensation. He just kissed her harder and moved her hands to her ass. He lifted her yet again, holding her soft, warm body against him as he carried her to the bed.

Smiling at the beautiful girl, Jughead placed her softly in the middle of the bed. He kissed her lips, slowly moving against her. Betty's hands remained in his hair, using this to control his movements. She moved her chin to the side, allowing Jughead to press his lips to her neck.

Jughead's thrusts were becoming sloppy, no longer at an even paced.

"Fuck, Betts, I'm getting close." Teeth biting into the soft skin on her neck, Jughead's thrusts were slow, but deep.

"Keep… going…" Betty moaned. "Fuck, almost…" She clenched around him, toes curling, vision blurring. The boy above her let his weight press down on her as he pushed in one final time, reaching his high. Betty's back arched, and she wrapped her legs around Jughead's back, holding him in place as she climaxed.

Betty's body went limp with satisfaction. She laid still and watched the gorgeous boy above her. His cheeks were flushed, forehead covered in a sheen of sweat. A lock of black hair hung over his eye, and Betty lifted an arm to push it back. His bright blue eyes bored into hers as her pulled out of her slowly. He rolled to the side, still holding Betty close. He took her small hand in his large one, pulling it close to his face. The one article left on her body was the orange paper band he noticed the day before.

He brought the band to his lips. "You won't be needing this anymore." He took it between his teeth, ripping the band off.

Betty smiled. "Thank you."

"And thank god for that janky ass elevator." Jughead replied, burying his head in Betty's neck. He could get used to this.

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A/N: Feedback always appreciated. I hope you all enjoy part two as much as you enjoyed the first.

#bughead fanfiction #bughead fanfic #bughead #betty x jughead #betty cooper #jughead jones #bughead au #bughead edit #Riverdale fanfic #Riverdale fanfiction #Riverdale au #stuck

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flyonmylovee · 7 years

Text

A Long, Long Post on Kyousei

A day and one rewatch after Tri 5 premiered, I have to say that I’m one happy fan. I know those sentiments aren’t shared by everyone, but I’m really digging Tri thus far. I wrote out some thoughts about Shoushitsu here and would like to make a similar post for Kyousei.

I’d like to tell a quick story to start this off. Over the summer, on a whirlwind trip to Europe that had me buying tickets for upcoming legs of my travels after landing in my first foreign country, I got a crest of courage tattoo. My host in Barcelona poured me a glass of sangria, set me up in her living room, and had her buddy, an up-and-coming tattoo artist, give me the tattoo in exchange for a spot on my futon when he travels to Washington, D.C.

“Why do you want this design? What does it mean?”

I took a sip of sangria to try and suppress my nerves. “Uh, courage. It means a lot to me.”

He nodded, and a half hour later I had a digimon tattoo on my foot.

In the midst of all this, though, we had a discussion about the risks of getting a tattoo inspired by an ongoing show. God forbid the meaning changes, I should be sure I’d be happy with it anyways.

I’m sat at my kitchen table right now with my feet kicked up on the chair across from me. My tattoo is staring back at me like it knows our favorite protagonist is dangling in cartoon-character limbo.

“You idiot” Yamato mumbled in that moment, gripping Taichi’s goggles.

“You idiot!” I yelled at my computer, instantly thinking back to my conversation in Barcelona.

Perhaps I should have waited. For a split second, I found myself conflicted. Waiting would have probably been smart- the tattoo artist I worked with had plenty of examples of meanings gone amiss- logos of shows that dropped off after a few seasons, symbols of superheroes gone bad, lyrics from artists who turned out to be closet bigots. Back in Barcelona, the tattoo artist passed on his ‘wisdom’ but ultimately, he told me to go with my gut. If I wanted the tattoo, I wanted it, and that was all that mattered.

I know getting a tattoo might not be a huge decision for everyone, but I was really nervous to make the call. My “gut” has always been a problem. I’m a pretty anxious person, and I’m proud to say that very recently, I’ve conquered it. I went through with the tattoo. I was fucking ecstatic about it. I still am.

The crest of courage means so much to me.

Yet here we are- in the exact situation my tattoo artist warned me of. Taichi is obviously coming back, but what’s to make of how he does it? What if the sixth movie is a huge disappointment? Would it be possible to look down at my tattoo when I need a reminder of my courage and not get the same motivation I feel from it now?

I don’t know. I guess what I’m trying to say, though, is that I don’t have any regrets. Tri has meant so much to me so far. I’ve loved it, for better and for worse. I love digimon’s commitment to creating new stories. I love the thought put into callbacks. I love Meiko. I love Daigo. I love that the worst snippets of animation may still be better than an average clip of adventure, and tbh, I laugh about it.

Maybe my expectations were too low. I purposefully kept them that way when this all started. I spent 15 years sure that we’d never see these kids again, the ones we spent our afternoons with after elementary school let out- yet here they are. Tri has blown me away simply because it exists, and to me, the effort is there. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I have no fears about the meaning of my tattoo changing. I have faith in this. I have reasons to have faith in this, and fuck, tattoos on my body are not things I take lightly.

So, that’s the context I headed into Kyousei with. I really believe Tri 6 will pull through, and if it does, this is all going to be incredible. Tri spoilers below the cut.

For some reason, it was jarring to be reminded that Kyousei picks up right where Shoushitsu left off. The start of the movie worked perfectly for me. You’re dropped right back into the walking terror that is DarkGennai, Sora’s recently overcome trauma (please, someone give her a hug), and Meiko nearly dying. The mature tone is set once again. Just like it’s audience, the show has aged, as have the characters.

There were two overarching themes in Kyousei for me: grappling with what it means to be “chosen” and realizing that the world is a complex and often, a disappointing place. Taichi makes a point of saying that there are things you see as kids, and there’s things you see as an adult. He’s not sure which he’s supposed to see. Later, he’s not sure who the enemy is.

“Who are we fighting?!” he yells out, seemingly in harmony with the groans of frustration from a fandom left with many unanswered questions. One criticism of Tri is that there’s too much missing information, but to me, that’s turning out to be a key theme of the show. I think a point is being made here- perhaps in childhood, one has the luxury of having clear-cut adventures. Morality is a decision. You are right or you are wrong, and if you are wrong, we have to defeat you.

Morality in Tri resembles the morality your eyes are opened to as you age. It is a spectrum of different choices, different friends, different enemies. Your enemies aren’t always clearcut and sometimes, you don’t even know why you’re fighting.

I can’t think of a better way to “age up” the kids than by putting them in this sort of situation. I appreciate the realism of it all. It may not seem like a classic “adventure”, but I do believe if we were given a classic “adventure”, it would have felt rather stale. It is clear that Tri committed to something new, as digimon is prone to do, and their means to an end is Meiko Mochizuki.

I’d like to make the case that, whether you like Meiko or not, her focus in Tri shouldn’t be as shocking as it feels. We are constantly introduced to new characters that project the story forward. In adventure, it was Hikari. In 02, we witnessed Ken transform and enter the main group. In Hurricane Touchdown, Wallace took center stage. I think Meiko seems especially jarring because these characters have been missed for 15 years and we’d like to get to know them again, whereas the introduction of other characters was rather sudden. While Meiko may not be appreciated, I don’t buy that Tri would be better without her, especially when you acknowledge the character development that takes place parallel to her story.

We see a flashback from Fall 1999 which now, knowing Meicoomon contains a shard of Apocalymon, makes sense. Meiko’s dad meets with researchers from Tokyo (Maki, I’m assuming? It’s interesting to think she’s been in touch with the family all this time).

Jumping back to the present day, the world “is falling apart”. Maki’s motivations become clear. “This time... I will be chosen.” Her uh, unrealistic expectation of saving the world with Tapirmon helps me understand why she may have started working with DarkGennai in the first place. Maki gets a “redo” of her traumatic flashback from Shoushitsu, and DarkGennai knows sparking this sort of apocalypse will end in ruin. I do wonder how long Maki’s been aligned with DarkGennai- did she have anything to do with the shard of Apocalymon? Did she need to play a role in Meicoomon’s birth? Either way, Maki is the hero of her own story- I wonder what means she’ll continue going through to be “chosen”.

The meaning of being “chosen” is explored further with Daigo and Mr. Mochizuki. I found this scene really interesting:

If you replace “Yagami” with “Maki” and “them” with “us”, it makes a lot of sense and showcases how traumatic that final battle was for Daigo’s crew. While he is definitely concerned for Taichi and the other kids, his concerns stem from his own experiences, and I wonder how much of his good-natured persona comes from him not wanting the kids to experience what he and Maki did. His natural niceness faded throughout this movie (although to be fair, it sounds like Daigo just lowkey lost his job lmao- “But we’ve been protecting them all this time!”) and his intentions were still A+, but it seemed like Daigo became comfortable using a bit more aggression as the situation grew more dire (i.e. talking some serious smack to the cops). I’m starting to think that Daigo’s repressed a lot of shit too, but was probabblyyy better at dealing with it than Maki was.

But, that’s fair. The world (almost?) met it’s end on his watch. The love of his life is losing it (and as we’ve learned, he blames himself). Lots of foreshadowing here, lots of questions swirling about what it means to be chosen, so...

On being chosen: I SO enjoyed the conversation in the cave! First and foremost- Sora! In my post on Shoushitsu I voiced my concerns about whether Sora’s character had actually developed. To me, it didn’t seem like she grew. Her issue with Piyomon was temporarily solved but I made the case that if the reboot happened all over again, Sora wouldn’t be able to handle it any better. I was pleased to see everything come full circle in Kyousei. Sora admitted, in front of EVERYONE, that she has a tendency to close herself off, that she’s LONELY, and that she knows what it’s like to have a THORN in her HEART. Piyomon was sleeping while all this went on, but I’m proud enough for both of us.

I also particularly liked the tidbits from Yamato. It was a nice callback to his cave scenes in adventure, and it’s a small reminder that these kids are developing in ways that aren’t always obvious in the overarching plot:

Takeru seems to instantly get what he’s saying, and the kids continue with their conversation of how they cope with being “chosen” and how they attempt to be good partners. Mimi straight up says that she balances Palmon out, and Sora ponders if that’s what it means to be a partner in the first place. Throughout all this, and throughout the movie, we see Meiko dealing with crippling sadness due to ‘being a bad partner’. I know some folks think it’s overdone and shouldn’t be as much of a focus, but I get the feeling this depression is supposed to be that obvious. Given Maki’s motivations and connections to the Mochizuki family, I wonder if Maki has been gaslighting Meiko, in a sense. I’d bet Maki is incredibly envious of anyone chosen, and if Meiko has a particular responsibility, or if Maki believes Meiko shouldn’t have been chosen, she’s probably primed her over years to be doubtful of her capabilities.

While everyone knows Meicoomon is to blame for the infections, etc, Maki was the first one to openly admit it, and she did it so dryly. I don’t know. It always stuck out to me. I don’t trust Maki as far as I could throw her, and I’m not very strong. I wouldn’t be surprised if the extent of Maki’s cruelty is revealed in Tri 6 and that the focus on Meiko’s depression serves a purpose. It’s dark, but this is Tri, and we’re all adults now thank you very much, Toei, I get it.

I’d like to make a case for Meiko’s sadness. I know the fandom is split on whether it’s too much of a focus or not, but I really think it’s necessary. When you go back and watch scenes from past movies after learning new information, everything is so purposeful. After learning that Meiko is meant to be Meicoomon’s balance, it becomes VERY obvious why Meiko was so hesitant and overly-apologetic in the past. You suddenly realize that every time Meiko apologizes for Meicoomon’s destruction, every time she bursts out crying, each day she skipped school after watching Leomon die, it’s because she genuinely believes the death, destruction, and trauma is due to her failure as the Libra’s balance. When Takeru told her Patamon was infected, she freaked because in her mind, it was her fault. I don’t think Meiko’s depression is overdone because it’s realistic. Can you imagine how much pressure she must have been under? From her father? From Maki? She could never fail. What if she got sick? Heck, what if she died? Who would control Meicoomon? That’s so fucked up. SO fucked up. And if her father is being truthful in Kyousei when he seems to just realize how much pressure his daughter is under, it leads you to wonder how Meiko came to understand she was responsible for containing Meicoomon’s powers. My money’s on Maki, and I’d bet a million dollars Maki was manipulative as fuuuuck. Since past movies have given us so many hints about what’s to come in the next installment, Meiko’s sadness leads me to believe we’ll learn the extent of what Maki’s done with the Mochizuki family all these years. What did her gaslighting ential? Why did she help them move to Tokyo? HOW DID HER HANDS “FALL INTO DARKNESS”? Put a pin in that last bit, because I’m gonna come back to it.

So, anyways, Daigo serves as a nice parallel to Taichi, and even Yamato, and I think Maki is meant to showcase a potential future for Meiko and Hikari. Meiko’s potential is obvious- a lost partner, a chosen being unchosen, the list goes on. At some point, though, DarkGennai mentions how those who are the most compassionate or fragile (or something along those lines) are the easiest to break and control. He’s referencing Hikari when he says it, but I wonder if he thought the same thing about Maki at some point. As Homeostasis can speak through them both, I think the similarities are there.

And the similarities continue for Tailmon and Meicoomon! I’ve discussed the importance of their similarities before, but while watching Tri 5, I noticed some similarities to episode 34 of adventure which seem especially relevant now that we’ve seen hints of Wizarmon on the Tri 6 poster:

If you remember episode 34, or if you’re like me and needed to recently find a terrible streaming site to rewatch it on, you’ll know that Wizarmon is incredibly lonely when he meets Tailmon, that he has a heart of stone from being lonely, and is convinced that he’s going to die from it. Tailmon saved him, and Hikari saved Tailmon. Back in the cave in present times:

(Mr. Mochizuki references Meicoomon’s loneliness when his daughter wasn’t around, and Meiko’s been separated from her partner an awful lot recently. Hackmon talks about how Meicoomon was isolated and feared due to it’s power.)

And then Hikari jumps in all too knowingly...

Interestingly, Wikimon has Meicrackmon VM’s card translated as follows:

And wow, what a Fan Moment™ it would be for Wizarmon to swoop in and fix all of this (which hopefully he doesn’t literally do because THERE’S NO TIME LOL). In all seriousness, though, the meaning of being chosen, of being a partner, will definitely be a huge theme in Tri 6 and I’m excited to see what happens. I’m also wondering if anything will come of Maki’s cold heart- I believe Daigo described it that way in one of the prior movies?

Anyways, let me reel this back in for a second to discuss more briefly some smaller things I appreciated in Tri 5 before jumping in to the conclusion of it all:

The mature tone: I touched on this before, but a part of the movie that stood out to me was Mrs. Yagami’s naivety about her children’s success. She briefly displays some worry, decides Taichi + Hikari will be okay, and starts making them a ton of food. I’m sure half of his is denial, but I also think this scene wouldn’t have been second-guessed in adventure. Of course the kids are going to be fine because the heroes always win. Now though, Mrs. Yagami’s hope seems out of place. This is highlighted further when Taichi talks to her on the phone. Mrs. Yagami lightheartedly states that it’s been a long time since Taichi’s had a summer filled with so much excitement. When she said this, I instantly thought about how Taichi must have been reeling for adventure after returning home from the digital world. I’ve always imagined him sitting in class, staring out the window, daydreaming about what Agumon must be up to in the next world over. I was kind of shocked when his response was “What are you talking about?” This isn’t an adventure to Taichi anymore. It was always serious, but the innocence of childhood is long gone.

The attention to details: I need to respectfully disagree with the assertion that Tri is lacking details. I’ve found it to be full of callbacks, if you’re looking for them, and I think it’s taking the time to highlight little things it doesn’t necessarially have to show us. One example of this is the Ishida-Takaishi family dynamic. To me, it was unclear whether Yamato’s dad even answered the phone, and Yamato outright denies the chance to speak with his mother. When I was wondering what the chosen children were up to in the years before Tri, these were the sorts of details I was wondering about. The fact that Tri took the time for this scene, amongst others, is what gives me hope about the sixth movie actually being able to wrap things up.

I also appreciate the details that don’t necessarily involve callbacks. Very pleased about the fanfiction fodder that is Yamato being terrified of ghost stories, and Takeru totally willing to throw him under the bus about it. Uh, I also noticed how unnervingly quick Takeru was to whip up an excuse for the police. He seemed, er, a little too calm when running away.

The Sorami: I mean, did you think I’d make a post about this movie and not mention the Sorami? I APPRECIATE THEM SO MUCH LOL. IT HAS TO BE CANON, RIGHT? They were literally sleeping holding hands. I can’t. I digress...

The cramming of everyone digivolving into one single screen: THANK YOU.

Whew. This is getting long, but this brings me what I really want to talk about: The ending.

So, the second half of Kyousei is a lot. I may or may not have cried twice. Oh, and, surprise! There’s the dark ocean. I really didn’t mind Taichi & Meiko’s conversation but I also don’t really have much to add about it besides what I discussed before. I definitely noted that Meiko interprets “you shouldn’t have been born” to include both her and Meicoomon, and I’m not surprised Taichi snapped at her. I would also like to note that Meiko & Agumon’s conversation (was super cute) was kinda revealing. Meiko envies Taichi, along with everyone else. She apologizes for scaring everyone early, Agumon says he wasn’t scared, and Meiko flashes back to a bunch of moments in which Meicoomon was scared. That... didn’t sit right with me. I do believe that Meiko yearns for a more typical partnership with Meicoomon, but yet again we have an instance of Meiko seemingly toying with the idea of giving it all up.

On Yamato: WOW! Okay, so, my absolutely favorite part of the movie is when Meiko asks the chosen children to kill Meicoomon. Yamato’s been pushing Taichi to stop hesitating, to stand with his friends, to do what’s right. After sprinting into the digital world monologueing about the importance of protecting friends, much to Yamato’s satisfaction (...i presume), he makes the decision that Meiko is right and that they should, indeed, kill off her partner. Not only is this in obvious contract with Yamato’s crest, but it’s got to be fucking infuriating to watch your closest ally step up to the plate just in time to kill off someone the chosen have spent a lot of time protecting. I understand Yamato as the type of character to keep his grievances private. He’ll shoot you a glare from across the room and fight back if you’ve hit his temper, but I don’t think he’s the type to let other people see his anger make him weak. This... I think this was Yamato’s low point, and he aired it out in front of fucking e v e r y b o d y. After grabbing Taichi by the collar and pushing him away, Yamato just stands there and screams. I can’t think of a time he’s ever done something like that. He is SO internally conflicted, and frustrated, and sad, and dare I say... lonely? You SAW how sad he was (he blushed!) when confronting Taichi about Omegamon breaking up early. I think this is foreshadowing a major plotline for the final movie. After all, Yamato hasn’t truly had a solo-arc yet.

On Hikari: Hikari’s another one who will be front and center in the sixth movie. Her arc is definitely not over, and I’m excited for the potential of her plotline intersecting with Yamato’s. I’m reminded of the Vamdemon arc from Adventure and how horribly awkward it was for Yamato to take care of Taichi’s little sister. I hope we see that sorta tension again. And listen, I truly understand everyone’s frustration with Hikari not being the main focus of her movie. I do think it’s a bit problematic that we base our expectations on who shows up on the next poster, but I understand. I do. It sucks. I would have been mad if this was Sora, yet while I understand, I’m not particularly bothered. It’s obvious that Hikari will play a huge role in the final movie. Also, if you can imagine me holding a giant flashing arrow and pointing it towards 02, that’s exactly what I’m doing right now. All you Hikari fans got like, a season and a half and two movies where Hikari played a major role. There’s also the potential that if Tri goes on to Tri 02 (please, hear my prayers, amen), she’ll also play a huge role. I do think that we’ll learn more about older Hikari as Tri finishes up, so this is where I’m at right now. I’m fine spending more time with some of the other kids. I’m fine watching them interact with a new character. Not everyone has to agree with me, like please, be mad about it if that’s how you feel! This is just my two cents.

On Taichi: You selfless, stupid idiot. Youuu infuriating contradictory little shit. You in all of your poorly-timed nobleness pulled a Jack-from-Titanic and let yourself die when Omegamon could have TOTALLY swooped on over to you and picked you and Daigo up. THERE WAS ROOM FOR EVERYONE UNDER HIS ARMS. Dammit, Taichi. You just killed your sister, broke Sora’s heart, and jump-started Yamato’s looming mid-life crisis all in one go, and beyond the fourth wall, we all know you’re kicking around underground with Daigo having a heart-to-heart about what the morality of adulthood entails, every once in awhile stopping to say “shit, we should probably try and get back up there, right?”

Okay, okay, I’m being unreasonable. I really do love the angst. Taichi falling into a very cartoon-y certain non-death makes me wonder, though, if he had a sense something like this was coming. Once again, the focus on his hesitation and reflectiveness seems purposeful. It reminds me of the way people might act before they die. What am I here for? What can I do? What’s the purpose of it all? It makes sense that he’s stuck with Daigo, as I think he’s been asking himself the very same questions. His easy-going nature conflicts with his role and remembering how got all serious with the police and so on... it seemed unnatural for him (although I was here for it tbh, hey Daigo). Perhaps he’s also still stuck in this kid-adult limbo. ANYWAYS-

In my Loss review, I discussed how it’s actually fairly common for Taichi to hesitate. He truly does go back and forth between being a hot-head and overthinking things, but it’s struck me recently that many of the moments in which he hesitates involve a realization of his own mortality and relative insignificance in relation to everything going on in the universe around him. Going back and watching the other movies, watching Taichi + Yamato bicker about what the right thing to do is, how to avoid the most death and tragedy... it seems sort of cruel. I’m sure it wasn’t intentional but as Yamato made the case for saving more civilians by doing something, Taichi’s blank stare, his hesitation... it’s almost as if he knows he’s stuck in purgatory and yeah, they could do something, but hey Yamato, “I don’t wanna die. I’ll die too.”

As I type that out, I’m now realizing those are the words I’ve been looking for all of Tri. Taichi’s moving like he’s trying to navigate purgatory and he’s not sure which choices will show him the light.

As Taichi made the ultimate sacrifice, I was reminded of this scene on Loss:

Taichi did something. And I’ll leave it at that. I felt a lot of sadness going back and watching this scene but I’m not quite sure what to make of it yet. All I can say is that when Yamato demanded that everyone stand, I was glad Sora was the first one who did.

On the ending: As Hikari’s digimon chased after her, calling her name each time Hikari called for Taichi, I wanted to reach out and tell it to be quiet. Hikari was so shocked and mournful, but still, that sentiment is so anti-ethical to who Hikari is. We’ve had all this talk about partners, and I found it peculiar for Hikari to mumble that she was supposed to be at her brother’s side. She over-relies on him so much that even Takeru gets annoyed with it. So what can a partner do? Evolve to Ophanimon FM, I guess.

Ophanimon, born from Hikari’s despair and closed off heart, Hikari, being the one DarkGennai references as being so easy to manipulate due to her fragility.

Which is all... fine and evil. Just... after the perfectly creepy jogress evolution we saw... what the ffuck digimon is that? It definitely is not Mastemon but it reminds me of Mastemon, given it’s description. It doesn’t really make sense, but I felt like I needed to contribute something lol. It’s listed as being able to evolve from Meicrackmon VM but... I don’t know. I really have no evidence putting this forward as even a basis for what we saw in Kyousei besides “I just think it sounds kinda similar” so I’m gonna go ahead and wrap up with my final thoughts.

The Dark Ocean: Well, they committed! The dark ocean is involved in Tri and is seemingly the third world that the title of Tri may be referencing. If the Dark Ocean is here though, I’m also assuming Demon is too. It would make sense I suppose, him swearing revenge on the 02 kids and promising to free himself as revenge against the ultimate being of good in the digital world.

So, nothing is creepier than Maki standing over the dark ocean, gun in hand, arms outstretched like she’s the world’s savior: a holy trinity all in one person. The waves knock her down and that’s the last we see before flashing to Daigo’s memories.

I’m left wondering how Maki got into the world of darkness in the first place. I remember Ken using his own darkness to open a portal and am wondering if his image being used as an avatar was some type of foreshadowing. Have the 02 kids been trapped there? Is there where Taichi and Daigo are busy tumbling to? Is the dark ocean’s existence throwing off the balance between the human world and the real world, grabbing hold of the link between them and dragging it down?

In any case, there’s a lot to ponder here. When the kids don’t even know who they’re fighting it’s difficult for the audience to figure out the players. At first mention of Apocalymon, I wondered if the intent was to bring him back. I then wondered, after seeing the dark ocean, if he manifested as part of the dark world himself, or if he manifested as Maki’s manipulated dread and jealousy. Are her emotions in a sense, Apocalymon, and the source of the shard? I’m now enticed to think about Demon sitting in the dark ocean for years, plotting revenge. Demon originally came to light because Ken dipped his hands into darkness. Apparently, Maki’s done the same. Word. For. Word. I think it makes sense for her suffering to resemble Ken’s. I think she is a true chess piece of a victim and tbh I don’t see her making it out alive. Send Daigo my regards. Movie 6 will be rough and I would not be surprised to see her atone for her sins before a very Oikawa-like death, sacrificing herself to restore balance to all.

As I said in my Loss review, I’m really not that familiar with all the lore in this fandom and most of what I learn comes from my own research (aka late night searches on wikimon). While perusing Demon’s page, I noticed this:

Note that it’s fanmade, but I’m wondering if anyone knows where this came from? It makes sense so in the context of Tri I almost feel like I’m being trolled. Anyways.

I’d like to note that after the “reboot” Maki notes that the net ocean hasn’t appeared yet. I wonder if the overarching goal is to birth a new digital world from this ocean of darkness instead. I can’t really think of anything more guaranteed to throw off the universe’s balance than that.

So here we are. Much like everyone’s feelings about Tri, this review is a mess. I’ve edited it so much and I’m still left with something I’m terribly unhappy with, but I wanted to put it out there before Tri 5 got too far away from me. If you read all of this, thank you? It’s a jumble of thoughts and unverifiable theories that you all can probably debunk in a matter of minutes. See u all in spring/summer 2018 oh my fucking god. Until then, our kids are left on a no-man’s land resembling the place where the original chosen and the 02 kids fell. Meiko, in her envy of Taichi, now carries Koromon in her arms after Taichi’s apparent death. And I don’t want to be the one to say it, but... As we all ponder the meaning of being chosen, whether being chosen matters if you can so easily be cast aside, and how to stretch the limits of being a good partner...

Mrs. Yagami’s food is going to get awfully cold.

#tri spoiler #tri spoilers #EVEN I don't want to go back and read what i wrote so this is not edited well #tri;#i wanted to get down all my thoughts so i could at least remember my first reactions to make better posts later #ooc;#lmao ok i read a bit this starts off kinda strong and then at the end it just crumbles you can feel it #bye;;;;;;

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junker-town · 4 years

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5 winners from Week 14 of the NFL season

Photo by Al Bello/Getty Images

Erstwhile safety Ryan Tannehill. Kicking duels. Quarterbacks named Drew.

Dec. 7 was the day college football’s conference titles were decided. Dec. 8 was the day the NFL’s playoff race got a little clearer.

Week 14 was a litmus test for postseason contenders. The Patriots and Chiefs each had plenty to prove in a rematch of last year’s AFC title game — only this time it was New England’s late rally that fell short. The Bills’ quest for their first division title since Toy Story was in theaters ran into their biggest challenge thanks to a visit from MVP candidate Lamar Jackson and the Ravens. The Titans kept their hot streak alive against the fading Raiders in a battle with major implications for the AFC’s final wild card spot.

Those games each had their moments, but none were as thrilling as the controlled chaos of a 49ers-Saints showdown in the Superdome. San Francisco outlasted Drew Brees in a 48-46 shootout that saw 10 passing touchdowns and only three punts.

In the end, Kansas City clinched the AFC West crown, Baltimore took a nigh-insurmountable lead in the race for homefield advantage, and the Niners kept their hopes for the NFC’s top spot alive by finishing the toughest three-game stretch in league history with a 2-1 record. But Week 14’s winners weren’t solely decided by final scores and their place in the standings.

Before we get who we picked as this week’s winners, let’s look first at who it wasn’t ...

Not considered: the Jacksonville Jaguars. All of them.

It was only a few weeks ago that things looked promising for the Jags. They were 4-4 and only a few wins from working their way into the AFC Wild Card race. With Nick Foles set to return from a broken collarbone and the heart of an intimidating defense still intact — minus Jalen Ramsey — there was hope Jacksonville could return to the postseason for just the second time since 2007.

Because this is the Jaguars, that hope was misplaced. Jacksonville was so outclassed that, for the third straight week, Big Cat Country published their postgame recap before the third quarter was even over. In Week 14, they lost 45-10 to a Chargers team that averaged 19.3 points per game over its last eight weeks. It was the Jaguars’ fifth straight loss, all of which have come by at least 17 points.

Jacksonville inserted Gardner Minshew back into the starting lineup when it became Foles couldn’t spark his new offense, but the rookie was ineffective in his return. The former Washington State star needed 37 passes to throw for just 162 yards, and while he protected the ball well (zero turnovers) he also finished the game with a lower passer rating than his punter Logan Cooke (83.4 to 104.2).

How are the Jags going to fix this? Minshew has some ideas.

"So maybe we'll try to play good more, and play bad less"#Jaguars 25 year history summed up with one promising line from Gardner Minshew pic.twitter.com/WE3Rl0LwzO

— Ben Murphy (@BenMurphyTV) December 9, 2019

Some extremely vague ideas, sure. But for a team that’s handed out $142 million in contract value to Foles and Blake Bortles since 2018, it’s not the worst plan they’ve come up with.

Now on to Week 14’s actual winners, starting with ...

5. Terry McLaurin, the No. 1 reason for Washington fans to be excited for its future

Washington doesn’t have much to look forward to. The franchise fired longtime head coach Jay Gruden after five-plus years and zero playoff wins. It fell to 3-10 after losing in Green Bay Sunday and currently fields the league’s 32nd-ranked offense in both points scored and yards gained.

But late in that Week 14 loss was a glimmer of hope. Not for 2019 mind you. Though Washington could still fight its way to the top of the NFC East with a 6-10 record, it’d lose on a tiebreaker no matter what. Instead, it’s the twinkle of untapped potential McLaurin could bring to an offense that’s lacked a homegrown star receiver since the glory days of Gary Clark. McLaurin faced double-teams from the Packers’ secondary, but still finished as his team’s leading receiver with four catches, 57 yards, and one completely absurd touchdown catch.

Terry McLaurin, oh my goodness pic.twitter.com/wo0hR83Imt

— Christian D'Andrea (@TrainIsland) December 8, 2019

That touchdown capped off an expertly run two-minute drill from rookie quarterback Dwayne Haskins. Haskins had gained just 95 yards on 19 passes with zero touchdowns and an interception before he was tasked with leading Washington back from almost certain defeat. The former Ohio State star — Haskins, not McLaurin, in this case — leveled up to complete six of seven meaningful passes (with one clock-stopping spike) for 75 yards and the points needed to turn a 20-9 deficit into a one-possession game.

That wouldn’t be enough to lead a road upset in one of the league’s least accommodating stadiums, but it was still enough for the two young prospects to stake their claim as part of Washington’s foundation. Even if 2019 is a lost year, the Haskins-McLaurin combination could make 2020 a lot more tolerable in the nation’s capital.

4. Quarterbacks named Drew, who had a whole day

We expect big things from Drew Brees. The future Hall of Famer is close to owning the league’s all-time touchdown record. His five touchdown passes against the 49ers weren’t enough to lead New Orleans to a home win, but they did give him 537 career passing TDs — second only to Peyton Manning’s 539 in NFL history.

Brees dialed up a throwback version of himself. The soon-to-be 41-year-old completed 29 of his 40 passes for 349 yards, even after losing key target Jared Cook (two catches, 64 yards, two touchdowns) to injury in the second quarter. Unsurprisingly, it was Michael Thomas — currently on pace for an NFL-record 149 receptions this season — who served as Brees’ co-conspirator when he needed to carve up San Francisco’s defense:

Mike's just been waitin' for the right moment.@CantGuardMike | #ProBowlVote | #SAINTS pic.twitter.com/PwJtPLEOrP

— New Orleans Saints (@Saints) December 8, 2019

Despite a prolific day, Brees wound up on the unhappy side of the scoreboard. Another, overlooked Drew wouldn’t be denied.

Drew Lock spent the bulk of his rookie season on injured reserve after falling to the second round of the 2019 NFL Draft. He only got the chance to earn snaps with the Broncos after Joe Flacco suffered a season-ending neck injury and Brandon Allen sputtered through a three-game stretch of mediocrity in his stead. That pushed Lock into a Week 13 debut against the Chargers. In a 23-20 win, he threw touchdown passes in each of his first two drives.

That was just an appetizer compared to what he was cooking up against the Texans. Houston had been flying high after shutting down Tom Brady through most of a win over the Patriots last week. On Sunday, that unit was rendered helpless to Lock’s whims in a 38-24 Broncos win.

The rookie quarterback finished with 309 passing yards on 27 attempts, three touchdowns, one interception, and one epic Buzz Lightyear celebration inspired by the teammates who’d busted him up about checking his wristband playsheets too often in practice.

Drew Lock’s signature celebration is epic @DrewLock23 @MizzouFootball @Broncos pic.twitter.com/NJqDBjacyB

— The Checkdown (@thecheckdown) December 8, 2019

Lock’s sudden mastery raises an important question. Has John Elway finally found his franchise quarterback? His swings at creating a homegrown version of himself to haunt Mile High Field had resulted in whiffs like Brock Osweiler, Zac Dysert, Trevor Siemian, Paxton Lynch, and Chad Kelly. Somehow, the most successful member of that group in Denver was Siemian.

Lock still has a long way to go before he proves he’s a capable starting quarterback in the NFL, but he’s 2-0 as a starter for a team that was 3-8 before he took the reins. That’s something from which Elway and the Broncos can build. Lock’s got three more games to prove he — and not Flacco, or a 2020 draftee, or a veteran free agent signing — should be Denver’s go-to guy next fall.

3. Ryan Tannehill, who just needed to hit someone to kickstart his heart

I’m not sure enough can be written about Tannehill’s absurd journey through 2019. He began the season facing a probable release from the Dolphins, only to be traded to the Titans for a Day 3 pick. He began the season as Marcus Mariota’s backup, throwing zero passes before Week 6.

Then Mariota got benched, and now Tannehill is the league’s most efficient passer through Week 14 (I know, right?). It looked like his Cinderella magic was going to wear off against the Raiders when his sixth pass was tipped at the line of scrimmage and intercepted by Maurice Hurst. That could have sent him into a spiral, but Tannehill hit the reset button before that play could even finish.

Like, really hit it.

HARD.

Ryan Tannehill with the HIT STICK pic.twitter.com/gYnQEjL1Gq

— Sam Monson (@PFF_Sam) December 8, 2019

Tannehill got right back on track soon after, elevating his cast of unheralded wideouts and tight ends into a lineup of monsters over his following nine possessions. The Titans scored touchdowns on each of their next three possessions, including this one-play, 91-yard drive courtesy of rookie A.J. Brown.

Ryan Tannehill throws a BOMB. AJ Brown does the rest. Touchdown Titans.pic.twitter.com/99ZX2Vci0O

— NFLonCBS (@NFLonCBS) December 8, 2019

Tannehill threw for 391 passing yards, three touchdowns, and the aforementioned turnover. He hasn’t started a single game in 2019 where he hasn’t scored multiple touchdowns.

And the Titans, even after what’s now a 6-1 run through the middle of their season, are still stuck behind the Steelers in the race for the AFC’s sixth and final playoff spot. The good news is they’re now tied with the Texans for first place in the AFC South — and they’ll get the chance to prove their divisional superiority with two games against Houston in their final three weeks.

2. Emmanuel Sanders, the veteran receiver the Patriots wish they’d traded for

Sanders was stuck on a rebuilding team this October when the Broncos made their long-tenured deep threat available in advance of the trade deadline. Hours after the Patriots snapped Mohamed Sanu from the Falcons’ roster, the 49ers swooped in to free Sanders from Colorado.

Here’s how the two players have performed for their new teams in the seven weeks since:

Sanders: 28 catches (on 39 targets), 407 yards, three touchdowns, one passing touchdown in seven games

Sanu: 18 catches (29 targets), 135 yards, one touchdown in five games

Sanders’ value was in full display as San Francisco emptied its tanks in order to outrace the Saints in New Orleans. Not only did he lead his team with seven catches for 157 yards and one score, but he also threw a touchdown pass of his own — something for which Sanu (four career TD passes) has typically been better known:

@ESanders_10 to @RMos_8Ball ‍♂️#GoNiners #SFvsNO pic.twitter.com/3AzpuJVbPE

— San Francisco 49ers (@49ers) December 8, 2019

And yet, he may not have had the most impressive single play of the game. That honor goes to George Kittle, who refused to be tackled on a massive fourth-down conversion late in a 46-45 game, even as Saints safety Marcus Williams grabbed onto his facemask like a handhold on a climbing wall:

NO FEAR.@gkittle46 | #GoNiners pic.twitter.com/g3vprcCOpX

— San Francisco 49ers (@49ers) December 8, 2019

The Niners are 11-2 with wins over the Packers and Saints in the last three weeks. They may not have gotten there without the extra gear Sanders brings to their offense.

1. Jason Sanders and Sam Ficken, who gave us an old-fashioned KICKER DUEL

You know who doesn’t belong on this list of winners? The Dolphins, who turned eight drives to the Jets’ 29-yard line or deeper into exactly zero touchdowns. However, their stunning inability to near the end zone gave Sanders a chance to shine.

The second-year kicker, who earned acclaim last week for being on the receiving end of 2019’s best fake field goal (so far), was pressed into duty early and often to bail out Miami’s impotent offense. Seven out of eight times, he came through. Sanders drained kicks from 22, 25, 28, 31, 53, 47, and 37 yards in MetLife Stadium, missing only a 34-yard attempt while falling one kick shy of tying Rob Bironas’ NFL record of eight field goals set back in 2007.

Ficken wasn’t nearly as prolific, with only three field goals (and one extra point on two attempts) to his name. He had the last laugh, though; it was his final kick that ultimately decided the game. The former Penn State walk-on, playing with his sixth team in the NFL since joining the league in 2016, celebrated his biggest moment as a pro — this 44-yard game winner as time expired:

Money.#MIAvsNYJ | #TakeFlight pic.twitter.com/qeUNR45PA5

— New York Jets (@nyjets) December 8, 2019

That gave the Jets to a 22-21 win on their home turf and kept Miami’s tanking plans intact. Now everyone in attendance can regale their grandchildren at Christmas 2050 about the time they went to an NFL game and saw the AFC East’s two worst teams combine for eight more field goals than touchdowns scored on a calm December afternoon.

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the-nerdy-stjarna · 7 years

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Hi Sanna! I was just curious, since you were able to write so many fics for the advent calendar thing, how do you get inspiration for your works? I'm always impressed when people can turn an idea around so quickly.

Thankyou so much for your ask, @waitingforeleven. I was really excited about this, because it actuallyforced me to think a bit more about my writing process.

To be honest, sometimes I don’t even know myself where allmy stories are coming from. I didn’t start writing fanfic until May 2016. I had written two Gilmore Girlsfics about 10 years ago and can’t for the life of me remember how/why I startedwriting those, and then I got obsessed with really interested in AoS and felt like my husband wasvery slowly getting annoyed with me going on and on about my theories andworries about the show for days and days and days. And then I started bugging talking to my friend @mashiarasdream instead to give hubby a break and eventually she forced convinced me to start writing downall these theories that I had (she’s an avid fanfic writer herself, although not for AoS, and I made the mistake of ended up showing her my GG fics) … and BOY did she start something because all of asudden I couldn’t stop.

I’ve always had a very vivid imagination, playing stories inmy head (or… as an introvert: practicing conversations and phone calls ;) ),and that’s kinda what happens when I get an idea for a fanfic. It often startswith just one image (maybe from the show itself or something I imagine couldhappen) or with a line of dialogue. Then I just kinda let the story happen inmy head (makes for very long bathroom breaks and endless hours of lying awake in bed, let me tell ‘ya). Usually the dialogue just flows naturally. I can see and hear thecharacters in my head (sometimes, when nobody’s there, I even act and say things out loud–and for a brief moment in time think that my Scottish accent is really quite good ;) ).

When I start writing things down, I usually start with the dialogue, because that’s what’s the most prominent for me.Later I fill in the prose (and often struggle with it ;) ). I don’t know why, but most often when I start writing, the words just sort of flow out and I can barely stop myself until the main story is basically written down. [Which means I often curse myself when it’s once again 1 am and I’m still writing when I know my alarm is going to go off at 6:45 ;) ]

In almost all cases I already know the main arc (beginningto end) when I start writing, although sometimes I surprise myself and changethings later.

As for my inspirations:

It really depends. My very first AoS fic “Space” was written priorto the Season 3 finale. I was so convinced worried that the writers would kill of Fitzor Simmons and preemptively pissed at them and as a way of self-preservationand as a coping mechanism I wrote the most prominent theory in my head in thatregard down, because at least that way I could kill Fitz off on my own terms. (Thank God I was wrong… sorry, Lincoln, really, I’m sorry)

Some of my fics start out as coda fics in a sense. Somethingon the show gives me an idea of how the story might continue or maybe I wouldhave liked to see things differently. My second fic “Events on the Horizon” started out that way (post3x18).

Sometimes my own fics inspire me. My third fic “Beyond the Horizon” was inspiredby “Events on the Horizon” (a continuation). The fourth fic, “Decisions” was sort of sparked by how thethird fic ended. And there’s a bunch of shorter fics that kinda tie into the GhostsNo One Knew series (where part one inspired part two).

And since I’ve joined Tumblr (August 2016), I’ve written alot of fics based on prompts (either something people submit or something likechallenges posted by @thefitzsimmonsnetwork or @theclaravoyant‘s adventprompts). In those cases, I take the prompt and just kinda come up with a fewthings that the word/phrase reminds me of. Then I try to determine what kinda of fic Iwant to write (which characters to focus on, do I want it to be serious andangsty or humorous,…). Then I try to come up with the basic story idea, andthen I just kinda sit down and start writing. Sometimes I stick with the first thing that comes to my mind, especially when I’m struggling to come up with an idea, because then I tell myself “This was the first thing that came to your mind and maybe it’s weird, but there must be a reason why it was the first thing you thought of!”. Sometimes I think of a few things and then one just starts to jump out and give me an idea.

The advent prompts are a really good example and that was somuch fun to do! So, I’m gonna tell you a bit more about my process there sinceyou mentioned it in your ask. I won’t do all 24 prompts, but just a few (Ifthere is one that I’m not mentioning where you’re really curious about how Icame up with the story idea, feel free to ask!).

I knew I didn’t have to fill all prompts, but apparently Ilove a good challenge and so I really wanted to. I knew I would want to keepthe fics fairly short so I could post them quickly and each day (which wasactually a challenge for me, because, man, I sometimes just can’t keep thingsshort… see this reply as an example).

The second prompt was “smile” and who has a prettier smilethan Jemma? Sigh. And I thought of some of the moments when we’ve seen thatsmile and then I just rolled from there.

For the fourth prompt “wish” the first thing that came to mymind was “wish upon a star” and I couldn’t get that damn song out of my head, so I knew Iwould have to use it somehow and so I ended up with the meteor showers andthe idea that Fitzsimmons would take Daisy to see the meteor showers, and firstI was just going to focus on Daisy and her wishing for a family because let’sface it, Fitzsimmons would never wish upon a star because it’s so unscientific…and then I thought “What would makeFitzsimmons wish upon a star?” and that’s how the angsty bit got in there.

For the fifth prompt “sacrifice” my mind went “Awww, I don’twant to write something angsty this time. I want something happy. How can Ispin a sacrifice into something happy?” and somehow The Sushi Sacrifice wasborn.

My first reaction to the sixth prompt “star” was “Son of abitch! I just wrote a fic called “Wish upon a star” about meteor showers.PANIC!!!!” It took me a little bit longer to come up with an idea for that one,but I actually really love this Daisy fic. I had read a fic by someone else that suggests that Jemma made up her own constellations on Maveth and I really liked that (Who? Someone tell me what fic that was????), so I kinda picked up that idea as a memory for Daisy.

The prompt “bell” was probably one I struggled with themost. Nothing associated with bells (church bells, bell concerts, that rings abell) gave me any good inspiration. I think at some point I just started torandomly rhyme things with ‘bell’ and it I ended up with ‘hell’ and that mademe think of Fitz and his swearing and I was like “screw this, I’m just gonna roll with that” and TATA… I had an idea. [P.S. I also sometimesdraw heavily from my life, aka parenting experience. Toddlers do the weirdestand funniest shit stuff sometimes, so that’s great fanfic humor fodder]

“Journey” was another fun prompt, because–being completeFitzsimmons trash–I of course thought of Fitzsimmons’ journey first and wherethey would end up (Perthshire OF COURSE) and then I thought “But you alreadywrote a Perthshire/Fitzsimmons fic for the advent challenge” and all of asudden I had the idea of “What about Bobbi and Hunter? I miss Bobbi and Hunter!”

I’ve definitely had times when I’ve struggled to come upwith an idea, or where a story just won’t keep moving forward. I definitely alsohave some stories that are currently stuck in fanfic limbo on my computer, but more often than not the stories just keep happening (it’s also a fantastic way for me to keep my mind occupied, which otherwise wants to ponder all kinds of anxiety inducing, yet usually imaginary and far-fetched problems.)

So, I hope you enjoyed myfanfic writer rambles and that it answered your question (to some extent atleast ;) )

#about me #fanfic writer #fanfic writing #reply post #waitingforeleven #stjarna on AO3

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lifesdance · 7 years

Text

The God Concept.

This is something that I feel deeply passionate about; I would like to share it with you before we carry on together, because it has a great deal to do with the kind of work I do and what I can offer you.

I’m going to dive straight in, so dive with me and if anything sounds weird or feels weird, just stay with me - I know this could have a positively, profound affect on how you see the world – if it’s a new concept to you.

We are all used to the concept of God being that of the Christian God. The Lord, in the Heavens, ruling over us. I love this story. It’s not something I’m afraid of anymore, I don’t judge, I accept it’s place in our world. It has beautiful metaphorical depth to it which can take you on profound paths of discussion.

I went to a church primary school; we studied Christianity and went to church. Religion wasn’t pushed on me by my family. Friends were religious, and I’d go to church with them if I stayed at their houses, however it wasn’t something I felt drawn to, as much as I was open to it. I loved reading my picture story book of Jesus. Stories inspired the wild imagination I had, and still do.

I’ve never believed in ‘God’ as we’re led to understand him in Christianity - a man, a guy ‘up there’ ruling over us all. I’ve never believed in a man up there, pointing the finger, condemning us to hell, or giving me ‘permission’ to go to heaven. (If you do or have, I’m totally down with that. I’ve explored different religions and belief systems and have friends all over).

From a very young age I’ve felt there’s something great in this world. I’ve felt this undeniable power. Thunder and lightning used to freak me out. Such an insanely powerful and magical demonstration of what nature is capable of. I sensed something un-seeable, but I just didn’t know what it was.

As the years have gone on, and my view on the world has expanded, my ideas of what is going on in the universe have grown. There are many. I’m a science geek and a spiritualist. I love physics, chemistry and biology, and I love philosophy, theology, ancient history, sacred geometry, quantum physics & metaphysics. I’ve travelled extensively, which has exposed me to a LOT of different people, places and ideas. I’ve also had a lot of physical and psychological therapy - there’s a place for it all, and who am I to say one thing or another is right or wrong?! It’s not for ME to say. What others do is none of my business. And vice versa. What others think of me is none of my business either. Let’s get it straight; faeries, pixies, aliens and auras are just as likely to exist as black holes, gravity, electricity, tornadoes and cupcakes. Just because we can’t ‘see’ it with our human eyes, doesn’t mean it’s not there!

***Science is finding more and more that we are extraordinary beings. I will go into this more later on, but for now, let’s keep it on the God Concept.

In 2009, a month before I was to give up alcohol, I went on an EFT (Emotional Freedom Technique, using Tapping) course in Bournemouth, UK. It was held by a wonderful lady, Sasha Allenby, and the divinely gifted Brett Moran. Things had really started to ‘open up’ in my life, and it was a string of events – synchronicity, that led me there. I was introduced to concepts of life that I’d never been exposed to before – outside of myself. My feelings on there being more to life were being confirmed, but this time by modern, real, fun people – just like you and me. Something clicked for me. I knew I wasn’t alone in my thoughts and feelings, it was like I was given permission to evolve and expand, and BE Sophie.

As the years went on I travelled, read, meditated, had therapy, contemplated, questioned, talked, cried, went on courses, wrote, had love affairs, went through different jobs, and got into lots of credit card debt.

This took me to a meeting called ‘Debtors Anonymous’.

If you’re unaware of Debtors Anonymous (DA for short) it is a brother/sister fellowship to that of Alcoholics Anonymous (AA). It follows the same principles & literature and guides you through a process of recovery.

The AA/DA program is a course of 12 ‘Steps’. They’re like 12 modules, that you work through to lead you to self-realisation, inner-peace and a better life state, and fill you with tools to live a happier life.

On Steps 2 & 3 I got stuck! It seemed nuts to me to a. ‘Come to believe that a power greater than myself could restore me to sanity’ and b. ‘Make a decision to turn my will and my life over to the care of God as I understood ‘him’’.

In my first attempt at this program I screeched at this point. I talked it over with my friend Julie and we both surmised that we have the power INSIDE us - to surrender to a power ‘outside’ of us was to be disempowered. Or so I thought. And the ‘God as I understand HIM’ part just filled me with this questioning of who the fuck says this God thing is a HE, a person even?

Plenty to discuss around the BBQ, dinner table, on the bus and so on.

Right. So here’s where it gets juicy. I had a turn around. I went from being a complete atheist to what I now know as an alltheist, or omnist.

It was during the work I had to do for ‘Step 3’, whilst I was writing, that I had this mega realisation. Everything came together and in that moment I found my connection to what I was attempting to understand. God. What was God to me? How did I understand it/him/her?

I was struggling with understanding how this ‘power greater than myself’ could heal me when I’d been learning that I have the power to heal myself, and that I was to turn my life ‘over’ to this power and become disempowered/controlled? I just couldn’t get it.

I’ve grown in my ideas of life. My heart and mind have opened so wide that there is nothing that shocks me anymore. I’m open to it all. I’ve felt that there is great power in nature. I believe in there being multiple dimensions we can’t see as humans - an energetic or ‘spiritual’ side to things. Spirit to me is another word for energy. Just like I realised that God is a metaphor for the energy of our universe.

Ride with me here.

We are undeniably remarkable beings. We have a mind that can rationalise, create, innovate, and that can go a bit wonky sometimes. In terms of addictions, I’m no expert, but in certain people there seems to be a problem with the control centre and strong urges lead to the various addictive tendencies.

We also have our ‘gut’ feeling. Our intuition. To some scientists it might be instinct. To people with more sway to their notion it’s both. This is all open for debate!

Intuition to me is a guidance system, it’s my guidance system to the deepest knowing in my self/my soul. Before I was even introduced to this concept of God, I felt there was something great guiding me, I just didn’t know what. My gut feeling is something I’ve always been aware of. To some it may be psychic ability, to others a hunch. But, it’s one thing we ALL have in common, no matter how you label it. We ALL get ‘that’ feeling when something’s not quite right.

I got into reading about the universe and quantum physics, and resonating - feeling in agreement with, something called Oneness. This is an idea that ‘we are all one’. It might sound a bit farfetched if you’ve not come across the idea before. It suggests we are all interconnected by energy, every one of us an individual ‘part’ making up the oneness, all running the same show. We ARE the energy; the only differentiation between you, me and a table is the frequency our cells are vibrating at. Liken it to a giant web of communication, like the matrix, that we are all a ‘part’ of. We could call this oneness spirit, consciousness, the universe, or god. But how could I surrender my will and life over to this power? I was stuck.

Somehow, I had this thought come to mind: ‘Some paths say we have a spark of spirit IN us.’

SHIT! YES!

In that moment, I made the connection. It dawned on me that us humans are a physical manifestation of consciousness. Consciousness – the universe/god, is what everything is made of. Everything. There is no gap. There is simply different ‘frequency’. Physical matter (the human body or a chair) is simply a group of subatomic particles vibrating at a lower frequency, thus becoming denser. Water and gas for example are higher frequency.

So how could I suddenly surrender my will and life over to this external power?

Well, it was the way I was perceiving this suggestion that blocked me.

If we change the way we look at things, the things we look at change.

I’d read a great quote “Prayer is telephoning to god, Intuition is god telephoning back”

Whenever I pray, speak or even think, I am sending messages out to the universe. I am in constant communication to ‘all that is’, whatever is running this show we call life. When I’m in a meditative space i.e. walking, driving, colouring-in, meditating, doing yoga, cooking, (your meditation can be in any manner of places and spaces) I will have sudden ideas, solutions to problems, moments of realisation. THIS to me is the universe ‘telephoning’ back to me.

(I have a LOT of juicy stuff to share with you about thoughts and how they affect us and the universe at large. Let me know if you want to hear more about that.)

My will is in my mind, my intuition is in my gut. My gut is my guidance from consciousness; it’s a sixth sense, separate to the mind. Addiction/Repetitive thought patterns are a compulsion sent from my mind - an order sent from the fear driven primitive brain. If I am part of this oneness, then these softer, intuitive feelings/messages aren’t coming from anything or anywhere else, they’re simply coming from a different ‘part’ of me, the part of me that is the bigger picture here. I realised I wasn’t surrendering my ‘entire being’ over to this unknown man/entity in the sky, I was surrendering my addictive mind to the spark of magic/spirit/energy of the universe that I have WITHIN me.

Afterall, the heart starts with a spark, does it not? We are electrical beings. This spark, of whatever you want to call it – spirit, god, consciousness, this is my connection – energetically, to the oneness. This is how god/the universe communicates with us humans in our physical form.

And THIS, THIS energy is what I connect to each and every day through prayer, meditation, chanting, writing, walking, driving, colouring in, listening to music, reading in silence – the list goes on. Remember, I’m not religious, yet I pray?! That’s because I now know the power of us humans and our thoughts.

Please do one thing for yourself now; If your desire or need to turn your life around is THAT big, desperate, then please start by opening yourself up to having everything you thought was real about your world being shattered. Until you are open to having the pants humbled off you, and your concepts of life blown out the window, you will most definitely find it nigh on impossible to live the life you know you deserve.

This is also where relationships take on a whole new form.

Do you find that when you get into a relationship it ends up going wrong quite soon after you’ve had sex? You’ve ‘fallen in love’, you’ve been hypnotized by their mating dance, fallen into that trap that feels like a mental illness (It is), and now you’re feeling uncomfortable, your mate is feeling uncomfortable, and you both have this belief that the next steps are to sacrifice, compromise and please the other in order to maintain the balance?

This is bullshit. Society has driven us down a road of absolute bullshit, superficial relationships.

It is MY mission to turn this around. The relationship of your dreams IS possible. It just might take a bit of work.

I’ll leave you with this:

Girl and boy/girl want a mate. Girl and boy/girl get dressed up with other friends who want mates (prepare mating colours, feathers, bells and whistles), girl and boy/girl go out, do mating dance – flirt, show off their BEST bits, entice the other to ‘fall in love’ in order to capture them. There is an entrapment process at work when people go on dates or ‘out on the pull’. Who is the person underneath all that dress? What do they think when they’re in bed alone? What scares them? What are their biggest fears? How on earth can you learn this from someone when society has driven it into us that revealing all of these beautiful parts of ourselves is seen as intense, too much, oversensitive and neurotic? ‘If I reveal anything but my positive side they’ll leave me’.

I’ve realised that needs are ok. It’s OK to have needs - my needs. What ARE needs? Friendship, emotional intimacy, open & honest communication, fun & playfulness, a forthcoming approach, and children, to have my own children. These are totally valid. Knowing my needs means I can save myself and anyone feeling for me unnecessary heartache. I can express these needs when I meet a prospective mate, and if he doesn’t have the same needs, then we know where we stand and either develop a friendship or go our separate ways.

So, you may be asking, ‘But Soph, How will I ever find the right man/woman? If I go around scaring guys/women by being so open and real from the start, I’ll never find a mate! Maybe I just have to settle for what I’ve got, or have had.’

This brings me beautifully back around to our new concept of what god is, or could be.

Worship Yourself and NOT your mate!

YOU are YOUR god.

I’ve explained that god, to me, is universal energy. You are universal energy. You have a spark of that energy within you. It is your priority to maintain contact with that spark. I guarantee you, that every time you’ve come to a block - ended up with someone who’s ‘not right’, it’s probably because you’ve lost touch with yourself – your spark, your spirit, your essence that speaks to you all day. You’ve been conditioned to ignore your intuition and go with the fear instead.

As soon as you can find it in yourself to please your self, and not go against what’s right for you to please others, you will find a partner who you can create absolute happiness with. Warts n all.

How on earth can you know a person from seeing their best bits, out on show, thinking they need to impress you – i.e. NOT be THEMSELVES, in order to attract you.

I see it all the time. I’ve been there too. People pleasing gets us NOWHERE in life, especially in an intimate relationship.

I’m not claiming to be any more of a human than you. I’ve had my own fair share of challenges to go through, and each one had made me stronger and more open to life. Why am I writing this? Because I’ve realised that, even though I’ve been blessed with crazy, mad, dark, amazing reasons to change myself, and see the world in a different way – not everyone has that, not everyone is gifted that. So, I’m here, gifting you the opportunity to see the world in a different way and create a better life.

In Love, Grace & Respect.

Sophie x

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