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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

Text

Why Couldn’t it Have Been Me?

Part 2

Paring: Wilbur Soot x reader (past), Ghostbur x reader

Disclaimer: This contains major spoilers for Tommyinnit’s 4/29 lore stream

Warnings: swearing, violence, death, near death, cheating, 4/29 lore stream, grief, blood, injury, panic attack

Word count: 6,737

(A/N): So in this, you’re Schlatt’s twin and Puffy’s your older sister. Also, sorry for any mistakes, I typed a good 2/3 of this on my phone

This was your own personal hell: being trapped within cement walls with your ex fiance, your asshole of a brother, and a Dream wannabe that seemed to never lose any energy. Your life was like a trope in a novel alive you would’ve liked, however being cursed to live in it made you absolutely loathe any and all mention of it.

Alive you would’ve killed to hang out with your brother again, not the one that turned to the bottle. Alive you would’ve craved the sweet melodies that streamed from Wilbur’s mouth. You would’ve swooned and maybe, just maybe, you would’ve forgiven him. Alive you would’ve perhaps liked this ‘Mexican Dream’ guy, you would’ve perhaps become the best of friends.

However you despised the three locked up with you with your whole heart.

Your ex fiance was someone you adored. Hell, you even idolized him when you were alive. The Wilbur you knew was sweet, loving, attentive, and just all around someone that you swooned over. You could still remember how your heart exploded when he first asked you out under the setting sun by the ocean. You remembered every song he's written for you, every word and rhythm by heart, even after all these years.

You remembered how you felt your heart completely shatter when you found the songs he had in his drafts for someone that wasn't you. Someone by the name of 'Sally'. After a heated argument you had broken up with him, taking the engagement ring off from your finger and throwing it deep into the ocean. You stayed on L'Manberg's side even after all that, too loyal and proud towards the country you helped forge to drop it. You wouldn't let some stupid boy or rabid tyrants prevent you from raising your beautiful nation up from the ashes.

That had been your downfall. You should've listened to Puffy and left the country behind when you had the chance, now you paid the ultimate price for your deep rooted loyalty and devotion towards independence. And your sacrifice didn't even matter in the end! Your deranged ex blew it all to smithereens. If you didn't despise him before, you absolutely did after your dumbass twin told you about his little 'escapades' while you were gone.

Every little thing Wilbur did, no matter how small it was, made you hate him even more. Every time he would shuffle those damned cards, it made you want to rip them to shreds and throw them across the train tracks. Every time he would sing or even breathe, you wanted to strangle him. You were absolutely certain that Schlatt felt the same.

Oh, your twin was a real card. Always boasting about how his horns were bigger than yours (who even cares anymore? Yours grew in first anyways), telling the others about your shortcomings through crude jokes, even going as far as fighting you through headbutting; you could still feel the pain of being beaten to death before respawning immediately. Schlatt hadn’t known that you respawn even in the afterlife, so you knew he was serious about killing you. You just wanted Puffy, she was far more tolerable than your twin.

The rustling of his suit jacket and his small grunts and pants resonated within the walls as he did various forms of exercising. You now knew about all of the differing variations of a pushup and you hated yourself for listening to his explanations. He would beg you, Mexican Dream, and Wilbur to stand on his back while he did his endless routines. The only one to readily take him up on that offer was Mexican Dream.

That man was arguably the only one you slightly tolerated, and you said that very lightly. He was still annoying as all hell, but he was a new face. Well, one that you didn’t know well enough to have a grudge against while you were alive. It was slightly refreshing, in a sense. When he first got here, his songs, stories, and humor gave you a nice break away from Wilbur’s depressing songs and Schlatt’s crude jokes. However when you spend eleven years trapped in a cage with one person, everything they do becomes the bane of your existence.

You were running out of things that kept you sane in this dump. You've read the same novel, counted the same ceiling and floor tiles (32 ceiling tiles and 57 floor tiles exactly), traced the same cracks in the walls, temporarily killing the same cellmates, you've done anything and everything that this cesspool had to offer. You've done everything billions of times over, a never ending cycle of monotony.

Tommy joining your group of miserable has-beens was perhaps the highlight of your fifteen, almost sixteen, years spent in this shithole. Though he finally dropped the brave facade and showed just how broken down he was after everything he’s been through, having him around was the saving grace to your sanity. He told you how your sister was, how your nephews were, and most importantly what you missed. You knew about all of the events leading up to Mexican Dream's death, but you were left in the dark with everything past that. Ender, you missed so much since you died; It baffled you how much you missed.

When the train actually stopped at your cell instead of just passing by and it's doors opened, you were just expecting another poor soul to be dropped off here. You could imagine everybody's surprise when none other than Dream stepped out of those doors. The nephew that had betrayed you without a second thought, that had murdered you, that had your severed head displayed on his mantle (you weren't sure the truth of that last statement, Tommy has a habit of over exaggerating. Though, Schlatt did say that your body was found with a missing head when you first forced him to tell you what you missed). Tommy talked to you about how he died only once, so you knew just what your nephew has been up to. It infuriated you knowing that your adult nephew was manipulating and abusing this young teenager.

While you were releasing your pent up frustrations on the masked man, he merely brushed past you and drug Tommy into the train by the arm. You could remember Wilbur banging on the doors begging for Dream to return his little brother and his angered screams echoing down the railways as the train sped off back towards the land of the living.

Lucky Tommy, he got to live out the rest of his life and actually age. You and your crew of intolerable jesters were stuck together once again.

Everybody was silent for a few months, reeling at the newly discovered fact that Dream could actually resurrect people. During those three months, they were quiet and tolerable. In a way, the talks that came out of it was like one of those family therapy sessions your older sister would hold in the living room (you remembered how she would grab you and Schlatt by the horns if either one of you refused to go). You would kill to attend one of those therapy sessions again, and this is the closest you were going to get to it.

You all talked about the things you regretted most while you were alive. Mexican Dream's was that he didn't protect his girlfriend Mamacita well enough. Schlatt's was choosing alcohol and power over his family (tears were especially shed over Tubbo, he really did regret abandoning him to be raised by you). Yours was that you were too loyal to a cause that would be absolutely decimated a short while after you sacrificed everything for it. Surprisingly, Wilbur's was that he had hurt you.

He had begged and groveled for forgiveness, telling you that he just didn't feel that special connection with you anymore. That didn't take away from the fact that he was seeing another while you two were still dating and that he blew up your life's work. He had stolen everything from you, and you would never forgive him for that.

After you made your thoughts on him completely clear, he had started treating you like you treated him in the last few months. Tension was building up between you two that had laid dormant for thirteen and a half years like a rope pulled taut about to snap.

Everybody had slowly returned to their annoying selves slowly but surely. Schlatt resumed his workout routine, Mexican Dream had started loudly singing and ranting about Mamacita's everlasting beauty again, and Wilbur eventually started up his solitaire and songwriting once again.

The three of them made you want to rip off your twisting horns and shove them in your ears in hopes of muffling them, but you knew that whomever put you here would restore your hearing and make your horns regrow. You knew that first hand after you spent a couple of years alone in this hellhole; breaking your horns off by repeatedly banging your head against the dull stone walls in a manic state was never fun. The regeneration of the keratin only slightly stung, it was like you were a kid and they were growing in for the first time again.

You felt your eye twitch as Wilbur sang about that damned train for the umpteenth time since he arrived. It’s always ‘train this' and ‘train that' and quite frankly you were sick of it. You were sick of him.

“Shut the fuck up about that damned train,” Schlatt seethed. You never once thought you would ever agree with your twin, but here you were nodding in agreement and shooting a glare at Wilbur’s direction. The brunet merely stopped his singing and reshuffled his cards, the sound making an ugly cacophony and grating at your ears.

“Not my fault you two don’t want to talk to me. I’m just making due with what I’ve been given.” He dealt the cards out in piles and started yet another game of solitaire. Seriously, how many games of solitaire can one play before they lose it? You supposed that you’d find out soon, Wilbur has been playing that monotonous card game nonstop for thirteen and a half years.

“Yeah, let the hombre chill! I like his music.” The masked man reached up to stroke his goatee, the scratching sound further penetrating your focus on your book.

Everything was quiet before Mexican Dream's voice pierced it, "hey, did I ever tell you guys how beautiful my Mamacita was?"

"You told us millions of times, fuckface. You narrate entire love letters daily, so how could we not know how 'beautiful' she was?" You complained, not once looking up from your book. Schlatt snorted to himself and returned to his workout. Mexican Dream crossed his arms in anger, cursing you out under his breath. Wilbur merely glanced at you and rolled his eyes. "You know, I'm tired of your bitchy attitude. Let him talk about Mamacita, it's not his fault every time you think you love someone it fails."

Your grip on your book tightened impossibly. If it were physically possible, the book would be crumbling to dust in your voice grip. You practically see red as you slowly dog-eared the worn page you were on and put your book down.

"Oh shit," you heard Schlatt mumble and move away from you, Mexican Dream following suit. When you both were alive, your anger was always something you knew Schlatt feared. However, you knew that he's never seen you this angry; nobody has. The majority of what you've been holding in for almost fourteen years is about to be unleashed.

"You know what I'm sick of, Wilbur?"

"Oh, do enlighten us."

"I'm sick of each and every single one of you. You three have been absolutely intolerable ever since you arrived. I was doing just fine alone and the universe just had to fuck everything up for me, just like it always does."

"There you go again," Wilbur laughed sardonically, "making everything about yourself." He gathered his cards and shuffled them repeatedly.

"I make everything about myself?! Do you even hear yourself? Mr. Oh-I'm-such-a-disappointment-to-Philza, you wallow in self pity twenty-four seven! You fucking write every single song about yourself!”

"I didn't want to come here, okay?! I didn't think it was gonna be like this! God, I might as well be in hell with you here."

"Believe me, my hell started fourteen years ago when you guys started showing up," you growled out, your ears flattening to the sides of your skull.

"Have you ever stopped to think that you're our hell? All you've done since we came here was complain and be a massive douche to all of us." He fluttered through the deck more and more as the argument escalated, the noise making you want to scream until you tasted blood.

"I'm the one that's in the wrong here? You fucked up my entire life. He," you pointed at Schlatt, "keeps beating me to death. And he," you jutted your chin towards Mexican Dream, "never shuts the hell up… Would you stop with that damn deck?! You're literally so fucking annoying."

He narrowed his eyes, "make me."

A mixture of an animalistic growl and a guttural scream left your lips as you charged at him, your head tilted downwards so he could feel the brunt of your horns. He moved out of the way just in time, the side of your horn brushing against his arm. You crashed head first into the stone wall before you stabilized yourself and looked at the brunet with seething hatred.

He was staring at you in shock, "how're you-" You used his shock to your advantage, throwing a right hook at his face. His head whipped to the side and his body followed, sending him to the ground in a heap.

"How am I still conscious? I'm a ram hybrid, dumbass. What'd you expect?" You huffed angrily before you pried the cards out of his hand and stalked over to the tracks.

He scrambled up to stop you, but before he could even reach you, you held the deck over the tracks and looked down at him. You could just imagine how your horizontal pupils were blazing with fury.

You reveled in the betrayal and animosity gleaming in his eyes as you dangled the thing he held dearest in this hell over the railroads. If you were to drop them, he'd never be able to see them again.

"We promised not to touch belongings on our first day here!" He yelled at you, his hands wrung in front of him nervously hiding the slight tremor. "Our first day here?" You scoffed, "the last time I checked, I was here for two years before any of you showed up." You gestured around the room in one angry swipe, the cards slipping slightly with how sweaty your hands were. It was then that you saw the fear in Schlatt's eyes. Good, that bastard should be scared of you. "If anything, you all are in my domain."

Wilbur flinched at the sight of the cards slowly slipping out of your hand, his breath hitching and panic stricken across his features. Mexican Dream stood up from his place and put his hands up. He was slowly approaching you like you were a cornered wild animal, making sure that you saw his every move.

He nervously chuckled, "let's just put the cards down and have a nice talk. Doesn't that sound better than this, mi amigo?"

You shook the cards once again, taking in Wilbur's silent anguish with glee. "I'm not your friend, I'm anything but. Don't tell me what to fucking do or else that picture of Mamacita is the next to go."

"...Okay, you're in charge, man. Do what you want." He reluctantly sat back down next to Schlatt. The ram was watching in fear, yet it looked like he was entertained with what was happening. You couldn't blame him, the last interesting thing that happened was three full months ago when Tommy was taken. That and you probably looked feral at the moment.

"You understand that if you drop those, they're lost forever right?"

You threw your head back and laughed, "of course I know, why do you think I only have one sock? I already tried that shit out before you came." You hummed to yourself in thought, then grinned. Wilbur was going to love this.

While you shuffled the deck, you kept a close eye on the movement happening inside the cell. Another perk to being a ram hybrid was that you had a nearly 360 degree scope of everything around you. The only movement happening was the panicked breaths from Wilbur, good. You huffed in amusement, "alright Wilbur, let's do a card trick. I'd ask you to pick a card, any card, but I don't want to risk you fucking shit up again. So, I'm just going to draw for you." You drew a card from the middle of the deck and showed it to him. "The eight of clubs, how fitting."

"(Y/n), I don't know what you're getting at, but if you don't give me those cards right now-"

"Shut it, I'm not done. I'm going to shuffle this back into the deck, watch the hands." You kept eye contact with him as you shuffled the cards rigorously, the card you pulled long since hidden with the slight of a hand. After a bit of shuffling and reshuffling, you had sneakily put the card between the two halves and bridged them until the cards were in one pile with the eight of clubs on top.

You chuckled and pulled the top card, once again showing it to him. "Is this your card?"

He nodded slightly, never once taking his eyes off from the deck. "Yes, now give it back to me!" The angry and anxious undertones were like music to your ears.

You tapped your chin in thought, "hm, I don't think I will. You've taken so much from me, it's only fair that I get some revenge." Without another word, you threw the cards behind your head and smiled widely at the sound of the fluttering down to the tracks.

Wilbur launched himself forward with a frantic yell, his hands flailing to catch all of the cards before they were lost forever. He only succeeded in catching a few.

His breath shuddered as he stared at the three cards in his hand: the five of diamonds, the four of spades, and the seven of hearts. The fate of the universe was on your side for once, perhaps preternaturally so.

"You- do you realize what you just did?!" He spun around to face you. If humans could froth at the mouth, a full waterfall would be streaming through his gritted teeth. His eyes held the rage of a man that had just lost everything in one singular instant, the resentment swirling in his dark brown orbs. Several veins were bulging in his face and neck, painting the skin in a red hue.

You walked over to your book and plopped yourself down. "Yeah," you said with a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders. You opened up your book and started reading it again, leaving the man to his grief.

Everything was quiet once more much to your delight. Though you read this book from cover to cover thousands of times, enough to know most of the words by heart, you were never able to fully enjoy and immerse yourself in it with them around. You took this time to reclaim your designated corner and spend some quality time reading.

You spent hours with your nose buried deep in your book, savoring the peace. That was until it was snatched out of your hands and ripped away from you. You looked up in slight shock at the sight of Wilbur snapping it shut and walking over to the tracks.

No. No. Nononono he can’t. That was the only thing keeping you sane. He can't just get rid of it when he's done so much towards you when you were alive.

A wail left your mouth as you tackled him to the ground, your arms wrapped around his midsection. He crashed to the ground with a grunt, his forehead smacking against the painted yellow stone. You straddled his back and ripped the book away from him, throwing it across the room and away from the tracks.

You grabbed a fist full of his hair after yanking off his beanie and tossing it into oblivion with his precious cards. You pulled his head up and leaned close to his ear, "you try that shit again and your hat and cards won't be the only things lost to the void." Venom was seeping through your every word, "do you understand me?"

He merely jerked his head to the side, colliding it with your nose and mouth. You shouted in surprise and let him go in favor of holding your aching nose. You could feel the warmth of the blood pouring from it. Through teary eyes, you looked up at Wilbur as he grabbed your book and flung it against the wall of the opposite side of the tracks. You scampered to the edge and watched in horror as it disappeared into the void.

Without warning, you were forced to the ground, a hand holding you by a horn and a knee between your shoulder blades. You struggled before a dark chuckle was heard, "if you keep moving, you'll slip! Do you really want that?" You begrudgingly stopped, realizing that he had all the power in this situation. If he wanted to, he could just slide you off from the platform and toss you away like throwing a piece of paper into the trash.

"Good, you're not as stupid as you were earlier today." He slid you forward, holding your upper body over the tracks by the horn. You came face to face with the swirling abyss that was the void, small shapes appearing from your eyes adjusting to the sudden lack of visual stimulant. Your breathing picked up as he lowered you slightly, "you don't wanna do this."

"No, I do. Thirteen and a half years of having to be around you was hell, but the shit you pulled today just put the icing on the cake. Do you have any last words before you go?"

You grunted as he shook your head slightly, a slight pain coming from the base of your horn. "Fuck you."

"How appropriate, now let's see if you'll come back this time. It'll be our fun little science experiment!"

He dropped your horn without a care in the world, sending you plummeting to your demise. A terrified scream ripped it's way out of your throat and you screwed your eyes tightly shut in preparation for the void. Your body came to a jerking halt as you held your breath, preparing for… whatever awaited you. However, nothing came.

You cracked open an eye only to be met with the uncanny inkyness, the invisible mist freezing your face and its frostbitten arms opened wide for you. But you never fell into its embrace.

Instead, you were pulled back onto the platform. You laid on your stomach with your horn supporting your head staring at the wall, tracing every single nook and cranny of the bricks. Your chest heaved as you greedily gasped for air. You never thought you'd be so relieved to see the cement walls you've been trapped in for over a decade and a half.

You were once again pulled up into a now sitting position and leaned against the wall, your back touching the cool cement. Across from you, you saw Mexican Dream pinning a struggling Wilbur down to the floor. Wilbur's crazed eyes met you, piercing through your very being. However, that didn't affect you in the slightest; you almost were just wiped from existence completely, you stared into the abyss and it stared back at you.

You felt… strange, to say the least. While icy fear and adrenaline coursed through your veins, you felt warmth blossoming in you at the same time. It was like the void was an actual person, politely giving you some form of relief from the hell you've been subjected to for over a decade and a half. It was so welcoming, not terrifying like you initially thought it was. When your fingertips grazed its surface it felt freezing to the touch, yet you felt the staticky power it was showing you. In that split moment of touching it, you had already accepted the power it held over you.

A hand softly slapped your cheek, "c'mon, (y/n). Talk to me." Your eyes drifted lazily to your twin. He was extremely pale, his eyes frantically searching your face for any sign of responsiveness. When you looked at him, he visibly relaxed. "It was so… so beautiful, Schlatt."

"Yeah, what the actual fuck did you just say? You almost just- just died for good dumbass." He looked at you incredulously, you could just see the cogs in his brain working hard to process what the hell he was seeing.

You looked back at Wilbur, he had stopped struggling slightly and was instead looking at you with a hint of confusion shining through the crazed daze. Mexican Dream tilted his head, the mask skewing slightly to the side of his face. "Thank you, Wilbur. You've shown me that there's… there's more to this hellhole than suffering. There's beauty in the darkness." His struggling had come to a complete halt, now staring at you with the most confusion you've ever seen from him. You also saw a very small hint of fear from deep within his irises.

A calloused hand gripped your chin and forced you to look back at your twin. "What are you on," he hissed lowly, "the stuff that's comin outta your mouth right now is actually batshit insane. He almost just permanently murked you and you're fucking thanking him."

"I haven't felt this at ease in nearly two decades. I feel ethereal, Schlatt, and it's all thanks to him." You let your eyes drift over to Wilbur. Giving him a content smile, you nodded your thanks at him.

The next few days went by tensely for the others, eyeing your every move and keeping you away from the ledge. You had only peered over the ledge once since then, it was just so alluring to you. It was nothing, yet everything at the same time. Mexican Dream had pulled you back to the opposite end of the room by your horns. The part that disturbed the three men was that you said absolutely nothing about it. You didn't even struggle against it, you just laid limp and let it happen.

With each passing second you spent away from the void, the feeling of utter peace was rapidly draining from your body; instead being replaced by icy fear, paranoia, and the realization that you were almost completely swallowed whole by the void.

After coming back to your senses, you didn't allow anybody near you. Your instincts going haywire and screaming that they were going to hurt you if they came close. The last time Schlatt tried touching you, you damn near took his finger off. They didn't bother trying to approach you anymore, instead glancing at you from the corners of their eyes. Wilbur was perhaps the one you feared the most, you knew that if he didn't hesitate to toss you away the first time, he would surely do it a second time. He spent most of his time staring at you, you didn't know if he was zoned out or not.

Everybody was against you, you knew it. You just knew it. They were plotting to toss you back into the void. That thing- or was it an entity? Whatever it was held a power over you that you didn't know was possible. That trance that it put you in, the craving you felt, was something that was repeating like a broken record in your mind. You could still feel the void calling out to you, it was terrifying.

You spent most of the time huddled in your corner staring at the fingers that had grazed the textured nothingness. You could still feel the buzzing and popping of the power on your fingertips, that inky residue staining your skin wouldn't come off. No matter how hard you scrubbed, scratched, or scraped, it would not leave your body. It was freezing.

The oncoming train screeching to a gradual stop was perhaps the only thing you fully acknowledged outside of your safety bubble in days. You watched in shock as it stopped at the platform. The doors opened with a fwoosh, fog pouring out onto the smooth stone floors.

Out stepped Dream, the smile etched into his cracked mask sent chills to your core. Next to him was… was another Wilbur? How in the name of Ender was that even possible?

This Wilbur was different though. This one was desaturated. This one didn't have an insane glint in his eyes, this one had grief shimmering in the tears that steamed on his cheeks. This one was broken compared to the well established man against the wall. This one was defenseless.

Dream shoved him to the center of the room, the man falling to his hands and knees. Sobs escaped his mouth as steam left his skin and drifted along the sides of his face before dissolving into the air.

"Got a new plaything for you guys, this one isn't as… fun as Wilbur is though." Dream's head turned towards you before it tilted. "What happened there? Did our dear little (y/n) get too close to the void?"

"They are none of your concern, pandejo," Mexican Dream seethed at his counterpart from his position next to the train. "Why are you even here, man?"

"Oh, I'm just here to make a trade. I'm afraid that I'll have to give you guys Ghostbur here in exchange for Wilbur."

Wilbur stared at him with pure hope and glee springing up in his eye for the first time in over a decade. "Really?"

Dream chuckled, "yes, really. What, do you really think I'd lie to you?"

"I don't know, ya smiley freak. You've been known to fuck people over." Schlatt scoffed, his ear flicking in annoyance.

"I'm telling the truth this time. Wilbur, come with me."

Stars shone in his eyes as he reveled in the sight of the open train doors. He followed the masked man with a skip in his step, ecstatic giggles leaving his mouth as he boarded.

Anger flooded you as you purse your lips together and you darted towards the train. The doors were closing already, if you could just-

The door shut with a clank, blocking you from freedom. Your clenched fists banged against the window, glowering at the sight of Wilbur's happiness and Dream looking at you with a wave.

"You fucking bastard! Take me, he doesn't deserve it! He threw his goddamned life away, you're wasting your time with him!" Your angry shouts were ignored by the two however as the train once again started moving with a small hiss.

A frustrated scream left your mouth as you pummeled the iron with your fists as it moved. If only you could find a train car to jump onto-

Now. You leapt from the platform towards the junction between two of the train cars. However, your leap of faith was set to a halt midair by Schlatt holding your upper arms. You thrashed against him, desperate to get back to the land of the living, desperate to leave this godforsaken hell called the afterlife, but once again, you were torn away from what you were trying to achieve.

You fell limp as you watched the last train car pass the platform and disappear down the tracks and into the void. The next possible time it would show it’s face would be in a few months if you were lucky. You let him take you back to your corner, your feet limply being drug against the floor. After you were plopped back down, you stared at the clone of your ex. You were pretty sure Dream said that his name was ‘Ghostbur’. What a strange name, yet you supposed that it was fitting for Wilbur’s apparition.

“Are ya done with your little ‘moment’, (y/n)?” Schlatt was kneeling in front of you, his hands prepared to grab you if you made a run for it. Though his tone was annoyed, you could detect the very small worried undertone of his voice.

You nodded and watched as he took a seat next to you, also staring at the newcomer. This is the closest he’s sat next to you in years.

“...What do you think of the clone over there?” You hummed to yourself, “he looks pathetic, but I think that might be the only thing he and Wilbur share.”

Mexican Dream took a seat next to you, slinging an arm over your shoulders. Normally, you would’ve shrugged him off, but you were too emotionally drained to do so. “Si, he does look kinda weak. But I think our new hombre here has promise.”

“Promise for what?” Schlatt snorted. Mexican Dream hesitated, “...I don’t know. This is gonna be interesting, mis amigos.”

“The party’s just begun, boys. Buckle up, this is gonna be a wild fucking ride.” You mused to them, unsure of what the future would hold with the newcomer. Though after a couple of years, you were sure you were going to hate him; that is if he’s nothing like his clone. Ender help you if he’s anything like Wilbur.

As you stared at the broken man, you couldn’t help but wonder: why did he get to go back? As far as you were concerned, psychopaths like him do not deserve a second chance at life. If anything, it should be you boarding that train. It should be you getting a second chance. He was the one that so readily threw his life away while you had yours ripped away from you.

One continuous thought was circling in your mind: why couldn’t it have been me?

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

You wrung your hands together as you anxiously waited for Tommy, Ghostbur, and Friend outside of Pandora’s Vault. Ranboo and Tubbo sat next to you in the grass, giving you silent comfort with their presence. You were mainly worried for your boyfriend, his worst fear was Dream using the resurrection book on him. You had calmed him down from a panic attack prior to meeting up with the teenagers, begging him to let you go in his place. Of course, Ghostbur being the caring and brave soul he was, wove you off and ensured that he’d be okay.

When you saw someone emerging from the portal, you leapt to your feet and steadied your head on your shoulders before you examined the people emerging. Except you only saw a human and a sheep, no ghost.

Tommy looked pale and on the verge of tears as he led Friend towards you. Before he spoke, he used his sleeve to wipe at his tears.

“Hey, Tommy! How did it- where’s Ghostbur?” The enderman hybrid stretched his usually slouched back to peer at the portal, keen eyes searching for any sign of movement.

“I think he’s dead… He’s dead!”

Tubbo tilted his head and looked up at the blond in confusion, “well, yeah. He’s a ghost. Of course he’s dead.” Ranboo nodded in agreement, “yeah, he can’t die again. That just isn’t possible.”

You said nothing (not like you could in the first place, your head wasn’t connected to your body), looking into Tommy’s eyes inquisitively. They were chock full of panic, grief, and fear, staring down at the lead in his clenched hands.

“No, no you don’t understand, it’s not that he’s dead… it’s that Wilbur’s back.”

“Hold on, the Wilbur that blew up L’Manberg? That Wilbur?” Ranboo peered down at him incredulously. “Yes! C’mon, he- we gotta get to L’Manberg.”

He spun around and led Friend towards L’Manberg, walking quickly with a purpose. You, Ranboo, and Tubbo followed. You hugged your head close to your chest, your eyes peeking over your arms. It was always something you’ve done whenever you were scared or worried about something. You heard stories about Wilbur from your nephew, if the stories of his insanity terrified you, you’d hate to see the man in person.

“I was about to kill Dream, and- and Ghostbur died. Dream revived Wilbur… Fuck!” Tommy walked faster, L’Manberg far off in the distance. With one hand, you grabbed the blond’s attention and finger spelled, ‘are you serious? He’s actually gone?’

“Yes! How many times do I have to explain this?! Ghostbur isn’t with us anymore and Wilbur’s back. Wilbur’s back and we’re absolutely fucked.” He turned on his heel and resumed his beeline towards the crater in the wall. No, he couldn’t be gone. This was just a cruel prank they were pulling on you, right?

Tubbo put a comforting hand on your shoulder, giving you a small sympathetic smile. You leaned into his touch slightly and carried on, stepping into the makeshift staircase behind Tommy.

You moved your arms to cover your eyes as you stepped aside to make room for the other two teenagers. You heard a voice; it sounded exactly like Ghostbur’s voice, yet it sounded... off. You however remained hopeful and uncovered your eyes.

The man that stood there certainly wasn’t your boyfriend. Everything about him was just so wrong. The emotion in his eyes, his clothing, his smile, his stance, his hair, everything. This was a completely different person. This was Wilbur Soot.

“Hello again.” His eyes flicked around your group, his gaze lingering on you for longer than the rest. You noticed that he was staring at your neck, but that was okay. You were used to it; everybody did that. What you weren’t used to was the revulsion that flashed in his eyes. The eyes that once lovingly stared at you and reassured you that he’d love you even with your… condition were now filled with disgust.

That was what broke you, the tears that you tried to hold in came streaming out like a waterfall. Stinging pain hit you as the water worked its way through the cloth of your uniform onto your arms, leaving steam floating upwards towards the cave ceiling. You phased through Ranboo’s body and made a mad dash towards your sister’s house. You needed her, you could feel a panic attack brewing inside you. Usually you would hate to be a bother to your older sister and Ghostbur would always calm you down, but now he’s…

You pushed that thought aside and focused completely on getting to Puffy’s house in the distance. You phased through the door without a thought to knock, frantically beginning your search for Puffy.

You looked everywhere, but you couldn’t find her. Unable to cope any longer, you fell to your knees in the middle of the living room and hugged your head to your chest, your face being pushed against your uniform. Your shoulders shook with silent painful sobs, the only sound in the room being the sizzling of your skin.

Why couldn’t it have been you? It should be Ghostbur standing there in that cavern, not Wilbur. This was completely your fault, you should’ve gone instead of him. You should’ve volunteered quicker than he did, you shouldn’t have let him talk you into it with his soothing words. Now because of your complete and utter cowardice, he was stuck in the afterlife once again. You were never going to see him any time soon. Your other half was ripped away from you because of your inaction.

Between sobs, your lips repeatedly formed the same phrase: why couldn’t it have been me?

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fallingforunrealisticromance · 3 years

Text

Just so I could call you mine part 2 - Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

It's finally here! I'm sorry for the wait, I've only really been able to write at night - my day's have been kinda busy at the moment. But it's finished. It's quite long so sorry about that. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as you enjoyed part 1:)

Also (following a theme here) this is loosely based off of the song 'Enough for you' by Oliva Rodrigo

* = time skip

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 3503

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It had been a month since the argument. Well, I say argument, but I think downfall of the one thing that made me want to get up in the morning would be more accurate. After I’d broken down on Emily’s shoulder that night, she took me back to her place. The whole time I was there, part of me kept wishing for the phone to ring and for it to be him. It didn’t feel real. For the first few days I clung to the shred of hope that he might pull me aside at work to apologise, tell me he was wrong and wanted me back. But seeing as this is my life, that opportunity never came. We hadn’t spoken since that night. Even on cases, he would find ways to avoid talking to me. I can’t say I blame him, he’s a shitty man. And when shitty men do shitty things, they tend to run from it.

I walked into the bullpen laughing with Garcia. All the girls had really looked after me and I couldn’t be more grateful.

“Hey there pretty ladies” Morgan said, sauntering over to us.

“Why hello there handsome. Here to make us yours?” Garcia replied playfully.

“Only if you’ll have me.” Morgan bantered. Garcia just laughed before heading to her cave.

“So how are you gorgeous?” He said throwing his arm round my shoulder.

“I’m doing good. In desperate need for coffee. Don’t get me wrong I love Garcia but after only 3 hours of sleep, her bubbliness this early on has taken it out of me” I explained as we headed to the coffee machine. Derek dropped his arm and stood next to me, allowing me to make my drink.

“Only three hours huh? You having trouble sleeping?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No, I just choose to run on as little energy as possible.” I retorted sarcastically, prompting an eye roll from him.

“You know what I meant.”

“Yeah I do, it’s just” I sighed looking down at my coffee.

“Hey.” Derek nudged my arm slightly. “What’s on your mind?” I chewed at the inside of my cheek nervously before answering.

“I guess I’m still adjusting to sleeping by myself.” I admitted. Derek nodded, wearing a sympathetic look on his face. “It’s so stupid, I should be over this by now. I mean I am over him but it’s just certain things like…ugh I don’t know. It’s just stressful.” I ranted.

“It’s normal baby. You went from, what was it nine months?”

“Eleven.” I corrected.

“Right so you went from 11 months of having someone next to you all the time, to suddenly nothing. It’s bound to take some getting used to.” He reasoned. I knew he was right. But something about the way Hotch had essentially picked up where he left off with Haley made me feel so stupid for still being hung up over him.

“Come on, let’s go see if boy genius can tell us something fun.” Derek joked as we walked back to our desks.

***********************************************************************

The day was almost over, and we’d had no cases, which allowed us to sort through old case files and tidy things up. As boring as that may sound, it was actually a nice break from the horrors we see on a daily basis.

“Right.” Emily said, stretching back in her chair. “I think I’m gonna head out.”

“And leave me here with the men?” I replied, pretend fear laced in my voice.

“I’m so sorry honey. You can do it I believe in you” Emily joked. The boys just swapped an annoyed look. “Sergio awaits me, so I’ll see you all tomorrow.” She said collecting her things.

“Bye Em.” I called after her. But just as she was about to leave JJ rushed into the bullpen.

“Emily stops where you are.” Emily groaned and turned around.

“Jayje I swear to god if you tell us we have a case, as much as I love you, I will be hurling my bag at your head.” Emily said. JJ just laughed at her.

“No, it’s nothing bad guys, but Rossi has invited us to dinner.” She said smiling. The way she looked at us made it seem like she was looking for some type of reaction.

“Okay? Something special about today?” Derek asked.

“Yeah that’s nice of him and all JJ but I’m really tired. Sitting in a crowed Chinese restaurant really wasn’t really what I planned to do tonight” Emily replied. JJ sighed.

“Fine. I mean if none of you want to come back to Rossi’s mansion for a bite to eat then I get that. Have a nice night with your cat Em.” JJ turned to walk away but at the sound of us all scrambling out of our seats, she turned back and laughed.

“Screw Sergio I wanna explore this guy’s house.” Emily said walking over to JJ.

“God you lot are so nosy” She joked as we all walked down to the parking lot.

“What do you expect? The guys a mystery so if there’s an opportunity to snoop of course we’d take it.” I chuckled.

“I just wanna see if he has a first drafts of his books lying around. I can almost imagine how much he left out.” Reid piped up.

“Of course, that’s what you wanna see pretty boy” Derek said patting Reid on the shoulder. We all hoped into our separate cars to go home and change before re convening at Rossi’s.

******************************************************************

The night was going great. It was so nice to be able to just take a night off – eat, drink, chat – without the stress of a case looming over our heads. Not to mention Rossi’s house was incredibly impressive. I mean if I could somehow make this man my sugar daddy and inherit this place, I’d be on it in an instant. Aaron was here, which didn’t surprise me. But what did is how relaxed he was. I’d seen it all the time when we were together but somehow seeing it tonight felt strange. Almost as if he’d dismissed the whole situation.

“Okay I wasn’t that bad guys.” Emily protested, snapping me from my thoughts.

“You told Spencer you were going to kill him if he didn’t stop being so loud.” Hotch said.

“That’s understandable on a hangover.” Emily reason.

“Em, I was just turning the pages of my book.” Spencer replied laughing. Emily spluttered over her words, but nothing came out causing the rest of us to join spencer. Suddenly the doorbell rang out. We all looked around confused.

“We’re not expecting anyone else are we?” Garcia asked.

“Um” Aaron cleared his throat.

“I think I might know who that is.” My heart sunk as he got up and walked to the door. Everyone swapped a look, trying to catch my eye but I just starred ahead of me. He wouldn’t have actually invited her. Right?

“Hey honey.” Her voice travelled through the halls causing my heart to not only sink even further, but completely shatter in the process. At least at work I could block out the fact he was with her but now he was just rubbing salt in the wound. Emily finally caught my gaze and shot me a supportive look. I just nodded, offering a tight-lipped smile. Eventually the pair of them came back.

“Hey guys, you know Haley.” Hotch said, looking slightly uncomfortable. Everyone greeted her politely enough, but it didn’t take a profiler to feel the shift in the atmosphere.

“Let me get you a chair.” Rossi said, going to stand up. “No, it’s fine, I’ll just sit here” She stated before promptly positioning herself in Aaron’s lap. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I couldn’t watch this. The seven of us sat in a cripplingly awkward silence for a few moments before JJ finally spoke up.

“So, um Haley, how’s jack doing?” She asked politely. “Oh, he’s doing great. Very happy to have his daddy around a lot more now.” Haley responded in a smug tone. As she spoke, she glanced over at me. Clearly noticing my appearance, she threaded her fingers through Aaron’s hair. I averted my gaze, opting to study the details of Rossi’s floor. I heard Hotch clear his throat, almost as if he wanted her to stop. “

I’m glad he’s happy.” JJ replied.

“So am I. Before it was just so hard what with his job and, well – other arrangements – Aaron barely had time for his own son you know. But luckily that’s all been dealt with now.” Haley leant forward and I heard her placing a kiss on his cheek. I couldn’t take this anymore; she was clearly taunting me and as I much as I hated giving into her games – this was so much worse.

“Excuse me.” I said, standing up and heading towards the garden. It took everything inside of me not to break down right then and there. But the minute I reached the garden I lost it. The tears streamed down my face as I tried to quiet my sobs. My heart ached. It felt like everything was crashing down around me. My chest felt hollow. I thought I was over this, over him. I could feel my knees growing weak under me so opted to sit by the edge of the pool, in the hopes to grab some sense of normality. It was a nice night out. It was summer so still warm, but there was enough of a breeze to keep it bearable. I’m sure if looked up I would’ve been able to see the stars, but I was transfixed on the water. Suddenly I heard the back door open. I didn’t turn around, not wanting to face whoever it was.

“I’ve always wanted a pool.” Emily’s voice came from beside me. She sat down, placing her legs in the water next to mine. “I’d love to have this house too.” She stated taking in her surroundings. “What do you say, wanna take Rossi down together and claim all this for ourselves?” She asked nudging my arm. I let out a stiff chuckle but didn’t say anything. Emily took a deep breath before she spoke.

“I’m sorry you had to sit through that” Her voice was sincere. “I don’t know if Hotch invited her, or she just rocked up, but it was out of order either way.” I nodded not trusting my voice right now. “You should know, the rest of us were just as angry. Derek left a few moments after you. He went into the kitchen, but he didn’t come back. I had to send Spencer after to him just to check he wasn’t tearing the place up.” She said light-heartedly. That gave me some comfort, to know I wasn’t being overly sensitive. She let her words hang in the air for a moment and we enjoyed the stillness of the night.

“I just thought.” I began, my voice rough from crying. “That maybe it wasn’t real. Maybe they weren’t actually back together you know?” I turned my gaze towards Emily. She understood. That was one of my favourite things about her. No matter what the situation, whether she’d experienced it herself or not, she was always so deeply empathetic that it helped.

“Listen, nothing I say right now is going to make this any easier. Sure, I could sit here and tell you what a douche bag he’s being” I smiled at her words. “But I know that wouldn’t change anything for you. So, I’ve just come to let you know that we’re all here for you. Take as much time as you need, and when you feel comfortable, come back and join us inside.” She said squeezing my hand.

“Thank you Em. For everything.” She just smiled before standing up and heading inside. By this point I’d stopped crying. You know that moment of calm you experience right after you’ve stopped crying, just before the headache or tiredness kicks in, that is probably my favourite feeling. Which sounds somewhat depressing, but everything just feels so at ease in that moment. Unfortunately, I could not bask in it for long as I heard the back door slide open once again. Thinking it was Emily I called out to her.

“Please don’t tell me I’m going to come in there and see you forcing Rossi to sign us into his will.” I joked, turning around. But instead of being greeted with my friends’ heart-warming chuckle, I saw the man who’d caused this little escape to the garden. It was Aaron.

“Hotch.” I said surprised, scrambling to stand up.

“Hi.” He replied. He looked nervous, relentlessly fidgeting with his hands. It wasn’t normal.

“Why are you here?” I didn’t bother trying to make small talk. What would be the point?

“Um, well I…I just wanted to…” His voice trailed off as he looked to the ground. “Can we sit down?” He asked after a moment. I nodded and made my way over to the beautiful table Rossi had. Aaron sat down but didn’t say anything, just starred ahead of him.

“Are you going to talk or what?” I said bluntly. He looked surprised at my tone but cleared his throat before answering me.

“I just wanted to check on you.” His voice was low, almost as if he didn’t want me to hear what he was saying.

“Check on me?” I replied clearly irritated.

“Yeah I mean you just took off back there, so I wanted to make sure you were okay” He said literally looking anywhere but me. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. He’d spent a whole month doing the most to avoid talking to me and now, not only he dangles his happiness in my face , but he also has the audacity to ask if I’m okay?

“Yeah I wonder why that is?” I shot back. Hotch went to reply but I cut him off. “No no let’s think about it. What could have possibly made me leave? Was it the fact that Derek telling a story? Nope that doesn’t seem to be it.” I said sarcastically. “Oh, maybe Spencer was rambling about something random? No doesn’t sound right? Gosh I just – I don’t know what it could have been. You got any ideas” I continued. Hotch starred at me, annoyed by my games but not enough to reply. “Wait I remember, it was the fact that my ex-boyfriend just wanted to shove the fact that he’s moved on and obviously didn’t give a fuck about me or our relationship further down my throat!” I concluded, standing up to leave.

“That is not fair.” He called after me. I stopped in my tracks, the anger growing inside of me.

“What? What about that is unfair to you?” I replied folding my arms over my chest.

“For you to say I didn’t care about our relationship” he said, his voice laced with annoyance. I scoffed at his words.

“Really? I think it’s perfectly fair considering how you’ve acted. It’s clear that you have no respect for me or what we were.”

“Just because I spend more time with Haley now doesn’t mean that I’ve just disregarded our entire relationship.” He sounded exasperated.

“Spend more time with her? Hotch she was practically fucking you on the chair in there.” I yelled. I’d tried so hard not to lose it but his lack of understanding right now was getting too much for me. “I loved you so much. I gave everything I had into that relationship, and you’ve thrown it all back in my face over one twisted story that your wife decided to spin.” I ran my fingers through my hair trying to calm down. The last thing I needed was for the rest of the team to hear this. Although I didn’t care if Haley did. That bitch. “I don’t know what I did wrong to make you choose her. Maybe I just wasn’t as interesting as her, but you could not have cared less about someone who loved you more. She dragged you down, manipulated you into believing it was your fault that she fucked those other guys. Or when she made you feel bad for choosing to stay in a job that literally makes the world as safer place for people like her or Jack. All I ever wanted was to support you and be there for you to lean on. I wanted to be that one person you could turn to when you felt like the world was crumbling down and you would feel okay. I just wanted to be enough for you. Because that’s what you were for me.” I ranted. Unfortunately, this time I’d been unable to hold back my tears, but I was hoping the darkness of the garden would hide that. Aaron looked crushed, almost guilty. Part of me hurt to seem him like that but another part reminded me he deserved it. I’d say he broke my heart, but he broke much more than that.

“You were that to me too.” He mumbled. His voice was so quiet I wasn’t sure I’d heard him. Clearly noticing my lack of response, he continued. “You meant so much to me and I can’t tell you how painful it’s been without you.”

“Doesn’t really seem like that” I scoffed. He sighed before walking over to me.

“Listen the thing with Haley-“

“If you’re about to tell me why you’re back together with her, please don’t. I can’t handle that right now.” I begged.

“No listen. We aren’t together.” His words took me by surprise.

“What?”

“The night everything kicked off, I’m not going to lie – I did believe her. I mean when she told me that you’d told JJ everything about the divorce, yeah I was mad. It took me so long to open up to you about that, you know the insecurities and the fact I thought Jack was going to resent me or not want me in his life. I trusted you and you just threw it out the window.” I starred at him in shock, unable to speak. Hotch being who he was picked up on my reaction. “What is it?” He asked.

“I can’t believe that’s what she told you.” I said utterly blown away by the fact that Haley was able to lie about something so huge with such ease.

“What do you mean? Are you trying to tell me that’s not what happened?” He sounded apprehensive.

“It couldn’t be further from the truth. She called me to ask where you were and when you’d be home. She must have thought I was lying because then she called JJ. JJ told her she knew she’d rung me and then she hung up.” I explained. Hotch looked just as confused. “I would never tell anyone those things Aaron. No matter how much you hurt me.” He didn’t reply. He looked so torn. “I tried to explain that to you on the night, but you weren’t listening.” I spoke. That caught his attention.

“I know I just felt so betrayed I guess it blinded me.” He replied. “The only reason I’ve stayed as close with her as I have recently is because she was going to keep me away from Jack. I know she had no solid grounds to hold that to and we could have taken it to court if it had gotten that bad, but fathers hardly ever win full custody. I didn’t want to risk it.” He explained. I nodded.

“I understand.” I got it. Jack was his world. And losing him might have just broken him. “

I can’t begin to explain how sorry I am that I let her get between us. I should’ve known, I-I should’ve trusted you.” He rambled. He begun pacing back and forth.

“Hey.” I reached out a grabbed his arm. “Yes you should have trusted me, I’m not going to act like what happened didn’t hurt. But you’re not a mind reader Aaron. You believed the first story you heard. I get it.” I reasoned. Tentatively, he reached out and took my hands in his, rubbing gentle circles with his thumbs.

“I missed you. Everyday.” He whispered.

“I did too. I loved you.” I replied softly. His gaze caught mine.

“Loved?” He asked his eyes wracked with worry.

“Part of me still does. I can’t just shut those feelings down. But what you did broke me. And I don’t want to risk that happening again.” I confessed. He nodded.

“I guess I’ll just have to prove myself to you. Because trust me, you’re all I want. And I’ll wait however long you need me to.” He replied. I smiled up at him and wrapped my arms around his neck as his arms travelled to my waist. Maybe we would get back together or eventually just drift apart, but right now I had my best friend back. And that’s all I cared about.

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#angst #arron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #agent hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #jj #spencer reid #emily prentiss #hotch #hotch x y/n #haley hotchner #david rossi #derek morgan #bau #criminal minds

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deadbiwrites · 4 years

Note

a video of supergirl grabbing lena luthor's ass starts circulating and it's very embarrassing for sc but extremely funny to their friends

(I am SO sorry. Where do these hide? Why do I never see them? How long has this been here?!

Anyways, have some cute nonsense!)

The day starts like any other, honestly.

Like, sure, Kara’s never thrilled when she wakes up 20 minutes late and has to use superspeed to get through her morning routine and into the office on time, but it happens regularly enough that she’s just sort of used to it by now. Like, the sky is blue, the grass is green, she manages time poorly. Whatever.

But she does get to work on time, with just enough to spare that she can make a brief detour to Nia’s desk for the coffee her protege has already bought for her, thank her profusely (with perhaps minor promising of firstborn children), and slip into the morning meeting just as Snapper, James, and Lena start handing out assignments for the day.

“Well, well, good of you to join us, Ponytail. Let me guess, a family emergency kept you out all night again?”

‘I mean, that Abraxian wasn’t my family, technically, but someone’s family, so…’ “Something like that. Sorry.”

Lena catches her eye and quirks a brow in question, but Kara just shrugs easily and sips her coffee, pulling a silly face at her friend when Snapper’s attention moves away from her. When her eyes uncross, she can tell Lena is fighting not to laugh, eyes sparking with mirth as she bites her lip. Kara takes another sip of coffee, feeling a bit smug that she can get Lena to smile without even having to say anything to her. That’s real talent, right there.

Especially since Lena has to stand up at the front with James, who has been by turns cold, dejected, and surly toward her since their breakup (a big, real, final one) a few weeks prior. Lena had said that the whole thing was a mistake, that she should’ve never gone for it in the first place because she’d been right the first time- they’d had some chemistry, after all, but it certainly wasn’t compatible long-term.

Which… Kara can certainly relate. Like, a lot.

Especially about the whole… James being kind of wounded about it part. That part had really sucked- when he’d done it with Kara, who he’d gone on like, a date with, it’d resulted in him deciding to become a vigilante. Rao only knows what he’ll do when it’s someone he dated on and off for over a year...

“Ponytail!”

Kara jumps, realizing too late that her wandering attention hasn’t gone unnoticed. “Yes, sir?”

Snapper rolls his eyes. “Great, now that you’ve stopped orbiting Saturn, you wanna go get that article started?”

Kara’s eyes widen slightly in a panic as she realizes that she has no idea what he’s talking about. “Uh…” Behind his back, Lena catches her eye and nods subtly. Thank Rao. “Yes. I super do.”

Lena snorts, James sighs deeply, and the meeting is adjourned.

“So what exactly am I supposed to be doing today?” Kara asks Lena as they stroll out of the conference room together.

“Well unfortunately for you, you have to interview a big-time CEO. You have a meeting scheduled with her in three hours.”

“You?” Kara asks hopefully.

“You’re very sweet,” Lena chuckles. “No, Elena Watts. She’s a real estate developer, and she runs a nonprofit organization for homeless youth. It’s one of the articles we’re doing for next month’s spread. Contrary to popular belief, Cat and I weren’t the only women with high-profile jobs in this city. ”

“Oh, that’s pretty cool! Have you met her?”

“Not personally, no, but I have donated to her charity- it’s a very good cause, especially the outreach they do with queer youth.”

Kara elbows Lena gently. “You’re such a softie.”

“Mmm, maybe. But if you tell anyone, you’re fired.”

Kara clutches a hand to her chest, feigning horror. “Why Miss Luthor, what a blatant abuse of power!”

Lena shrugs. “I’m a Luthor, darling, I have to keep up appearances somehow.”

“Ouch,” Kara laughs. “See you at lunch?”

“Only if lunch includes a milkshake- I have a teleconference with both boards today. Unless you feel like joining me?”

“Wow, well as fun as that sounds, I’m gonna go do literally anything else.” Her comms crackle to life, alerting her of a hostage situation downtown, and Kara sighs. So much for a work day. “Alright, well, I’m, um, gonna go… see what I can find on Elena Watts. Maybe over another cup of coffee at Noonan’s.” She widens her eyes a bit, trying her best to convey that she’s going to be on Super-duty for a little while.

Thankfully, Lena picks up on it and grins. “You just want sticky buns.”

“Lena, I always want sticky buns. They’re like, my second favorite thing to eat.”

“Oh? What’s the first?” Lena asks, voice just a bit lower than usual.

Kara opens her mouth and closes it, flushing slightly as she averts her gaze and adjusts the laptop bag on her shoulder. Stuff like that has been happening more and more, and she’s not 100% sure what to do about it. Because on the one hand, it makes her stomach do flips and tie up in knots and makes her brain do this… staticky thing where nothing filters in or out, just a pleasant buzz of how funny and smart Lena is and how much Kara likes hanging out with her and being flirted with (because that’s definitely what’s been happening, even if neither of them is really ready to address it) and just generally looking at Lena.... who is currently biting her lip and grinning up at Kara, and that buzz makes her kinda dumb, which is just really unhelpful. But on the other hand, it’s also kinda awesome and Kara really enjoys it, and-

“Kara?”

She spaced out again. Crap.

“Um. What time are you free for lunch?”

Lena sighs, seeming slightly disappointed that Kara isn’t flirting back at the moment (and thank Rao Lena can’t read minds), but she smiles back easily enough as they step off of the elevator. “I should be done by two.”

Feeling emboldened, Kara turns so she’s walking backwards in front of Lena and grins. “It’s a date,” she says with a grin, ducking forward to press a quick “friendly” kiss high on Lena’s cheek. She whirls and jogs out the double doors, leaving Lena smiling exasperatedly after her.

It is genuinely baffling to Kara that people still commit crimes in National City. It’s not even an ego thing, really, since Kara tries to keep herself humble (even when she manages to wrap up a hostage situation within twenty seconds of arriving on-scene without injuring any of the criminals or damaging the building too badly). Like, yeah, she gets that there’s a certain element of crazies who just sorta gravitate to places with a local hero, the big-bads who have their own suits and geek-toys and abilities. Them, Kara gets. Kinda sorta. But the regular ones, who are armed with like, pistols? Or knives? Just regular man made stuff without even the benefit of magic or kryptonite or something?

Why?

She’s sure that if she asked, Lena would have some sort of statistical thing about large cities and poverty and all sorts of other factors that would end up making Kara feel like a jerk for being uncharitable to the criminal element of her city, but at the moment she’s mostly too annoyed by the fact that she has to spend her weekdays chasing them around instead of chasing stories.

Once all the hostages are freed and the cops secure the scene, Kara departs, flying into the alley behind Noonan’s and changing into her regular clothes before she heads inside to do a bit of research before her meeting with Elena Watts in a few hours (just because she’d used it as a cover doesn’t mean it was a bad idea…). She finds her favorite little two-person booth tucked into a quiet corner, plugs in her laptop, and gets to work, asking the waitress to please keep both the coffee and the sticky buns coming.

She gets a surprising amount done by the time she needs to leave for the interview, having a good foundation for what she wants to write and who Elena Watts is.

Ms. Watts turns out to be a pretty nice lady around Eliza’s age, if a bit busy and distracted by the steady flow of people in and out of her office. She answers all Kara’s questions with aplomb, happy to elaborate on most every point and eager to draw attention to the rising issue of homelessness among children and teens in the US.

“When I was young, my dad lost his job at the auto plant. It was supposed to be a temporary layoff, but the factory never reopened. We ended up losing the house, and we lived so far from our extended family that staying with them wasn’t much of an option. We lived in our SUV for six months, sleeping at shelters every now and again, if we could find one that allowed families to stay together. We showered at the local YMCA. Five people and a dog, living and sleeping in an old station wagon- even now, it sounds ridiculous. Eventually, we got back on our feet, but I never forgot that. It was just six months, but it was- and remains- the scariest, most uncertain time in my entire life, and it shaped me in a lot of ways I didn’t expect. And there are kids and families who do that for years. I just want to help them the way I wish that someone had been able to help us.”

At the end of the interview, Kara thanks her profusely for her time and for sharing her story before hurrying off to CatCo to type up a draft for Snapper (“What’s wrong with you, Ponytail, why is everything you bring me sappy and sentimental?”), which she finishes an outline of just in time to send it off before running to Big Belly and L-Corp for lunch with Lena.

She greets the newest in a series of secretaries (Anna? Amy? Ava? Lena’s really missing Jess, these days, but from what she’s told Kara, Jess is kicking butt in her new role as VP of Operations and will probably take over for the COO when he retires in a few years), and the girl waves her in distractedly.

And that’s when Kara’s day goes from normal to not, because inside the office are two masked men holding a stone-faced Lena at gunpoint on her balcony and demanding… something, probably. Kara’s a bit distracted by the loaded gun aimed at Lena’s head.

“Hey!” she yells, attracting both their attention. They whirl on her and Lena’s eyes widen in alarm, and Kara suddenly realizes three things- 1) she’s in her Kara Danvers clothes, not the supersuit, 2) she can’t speed into the suit now that they’re both looking at her, and 3) she has no plan.

Crap.

“Who the hell are you?!” one of them demands.

Kara… doesn’t have a good or snappy answer for that, and instead does the only thing she can think of- she throws the large milkshakes she’s carrying at them as hard as she can.

Which, in retrospect, is too hard, apparently because while yes, it is both funny and gratifying to see two grown men get absolutely leveled by a tasty dairy treat to the face, the one closest to Lena manages to elbow her in such a way that she falls backwards over the rail with an instinctual scream that makes Kara’s heart fly into her throat. She whips off her glasses, and by the time she’s out the window and speeding toward Lena’s flailing form, the suit is materialized. She gets under Lena, catching her carefully and dropping a bit further before slowing down (because she’s been made aware that when she doesn’t, the people she’s saving may as well be hitting the pavement), finally coasting to a stop about 20 feet from the ground.

Lena’s face is screwed up in a forced sort of focus, her hands clutching tightly at Kara’s shoulders and cape as she holds her breath.

“Are you okay?” Kara asks quietly.

Lena swallows thickly and nods, eyes still firmly closed. “I’m alright. Thank you- I’ll admit, I wasn’t quite sure how to get out of that one.”

“What was that? What did they want?”

Lena cracks an eye open. “Oh. you know, just my quarterly assassination attempt. I think my mother was starting to miss me, so she wanted to reach out.”

Kara snorts. “That really shouldn’t be funny.”

“Maybe not, but here we are.” Lena shifts a bit in Kara’s arms, cheeks a bit flushed from the adrenaline rush, and clears her throat. “Not to be rude, Supergirl, but do you think that perhaps we could continue this conversation… on the ground?”

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, sorry. I forgot we were, uh, flying.”

Lena chuckles as they ascend slowly back up to her office. “You forgot you were flying?”

Kara shrugs with an easy smile. “I guess you have that effect on me.”

Lena huffs a laugh against Kara’s neck, eyes squeezed shut again. They alight on the balcony, finding the two men still unconscious, covered in Kara and Lena’s lunch. Lena sighs as Kara sets her down, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What a mess.”

“Yeah, sorry, I sorta… panicked.”

“I was so looking forward to a milkshake too…” Lena laments playfully.

“Well, then I have good news and bad news,” Kara says. She reaches out and gently wipes a bit of her own chocolate shake from Lena’s cheek with the pad of her thumb, tucking it into her mouth on instinct to get a taste of it. “The good news is, you do, in fact, have some shake on you!”

“Whats the bad news?”

“Also that you have some shake on you.” Kara laughs, gathering the two men in her arms and hefting them a bit so they’re easier to carry. “I’ll get you another one. Be right back.”

She drops the men at the police station with a brief explanation before flying back into the office. Lena hands over her discarded glasses with a wry grin.

“I figured you’d need these before the police arrive.” She’s putting on a brave front, but she’s clearly still more than a bit rattled, if her too-bright eyes and thundering heartbeat are anything to go by. Kara steps closer and opens her arms in invitation, and Lena doesn’t hesitate to step into them. “Thank you,” Lena says fervently, tucking her face into Kara’s shoulder and wrapping her arms tight around Kara’s waist.

“Always,” Kara promises, daring to press a reassuring kiss to Lena’s temple (and getting a bit of Lena’s strawberry shake for her troubles) before wrapping her up even tighter in her arms. “Are you actually okay?”

“I mean, my fear of heights has been reaffirmed,” Lena jokes, “but aside from that, I’m not hurt.”

“Good. I don’t like, love people pointing guns at you. Just so you know.”

“I’m not a fan either, for the record,” Lena drawls, burrowing even closer. “Even though I know you’ll save me, it still puts a damper on my day.”

Kara huffs a laugh. “Same.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, until Lena’s calmed down enough to stop shaking and calls her assistant (Audra, apparently) in, telling her what’d happened and that the police would be arriving shortly to take her and Kara’s statements, and please advise the security team to let them up discreetly. After the cops arrive, it’s a blur of questions, and Kara has to concentrate on telling the story of how she’d panicked and thrown the milkshakes at the men, and one of them had knocked Lena over the balcony (all true), and Kara had yelled for Supergirl, who had knocked the men out on her way to Lena (also technically mostly true. Technically. Mostly.). The police are sure to tell Kara that next time, she shouldn’t throw things at people with guns, and also to tell them both how lucky they are that Supergirl had shown up when she did.

“She’s always there when I need her,” Lena agrees, throwing a sly wink over the officer’s shoulder at Kara.

Kara just shakes her head and smiles. Even almost dying isn’t enough to make Lena not flirt with her. The woman is truly a marvel.

Kara’s comms crackle again, accompanied by Alex’s custom ringtone on her cell, and after assuring the police that she has no issue with giving another statement if they need her to later, hurries over to the DEO (making a quick stop in the back alley to change into her suit).

When Kara arrives, she’s told that J’onn and Alex are waiting for her in the Directors’ offices. She makes her way there, waving to the agents and scientists she knows. But it’s very weird, because every time one of them sees her, they start giggling before quickly hurrying off in the opposite direction. Like, literally everyone is whispering and pointing and giggling, and it’s giving Kara such visceral flashbacks to high school that it’s all she can do to not check her cape for a taped on sign that says ‘Kick me’ or ‘Freak’.

(Kids are mean.)

By the time Kara gets to her destination, she’s fully paranoid, sure that someone’s playing a prank on her, somehow, and that everyone but her is in on the joke. She opens the door with more force than intended and catches it just before the handle puts a hole in the wall, throwing Alex and J’onn a sheepish smile. She closes the door extra gently and leans against it heavily. J’onn and Alex just stare at her, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“Busy day, Supergirl?” Alex asks, and after half a lifetime of spending time with her, Kara recognizes that she, too, is trying not to laugh.

Kara’s had enough. “Okay, do I have something on my face? Or on the suit? Is someone messing with me?”

J’onn’s brow furrows. “No.”

“Then what’s the deal? Why is the entire DEO like… laughing at me? Did someone accidentally vent the lab fumes out into the main hub again?”

“No.”

“Did someone see me crash into that billboard last week?”

J’onn’s frown deepens. “What?”

“No,” Alex answers.

“Then why is everyone laughing at me?!”

“I mean, if I had to guess, I’d say it’s because of that,” Alex muses, nodding toward the big TV on the wall beside Kara.

She steps back to watch the news coverage of her dealing with the hostage situation this morning and frowns. “What, those guys? That was routine, what’s so funny about tha-”

“No, no, not that. That,” Alex clarifies, cranking up the volume.

“...reports are saying that the CEO of L-Corp, Lena Luthor, experienced an attempt on her life early this afternoon. Sources claim that she fell from a considerable height-”

“Hey, she was pushed,” Kara corrects.

“Shh!”

“...caught by Supergirl, who may have gotten a little… familiar with her.”

And there’s a video (clearly recorded on a cell phone but not the worst quality Kara’s ever seen) of Kara catching Lena and slowing to a stop above the sidewalk, of them talking quietly, of Kara’s hand definitely on Lena’s-

“Oh. Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Alex drawls, clicking the TV off with relish, a large, evil-big-sister grin spreading across her face. “Congratulations, Supergirl- the world just watched you grope Lena Luthor’s ass.”

“But I’m not- I wasn’t groping, I was catching! My hands weren’t… If it was groping, I’d be all up on her, and I wasn’t!”

“Camera begs to differ. It’s already trending on Twitter in National CIty.”

Kara puts her head in her hands and groans. “Why?! I was trying to save her!”

“You were definitely trying to save part of her,” Alex agrees. “Granted, it’s a very nice part...”

Kara’s head pops up, and she shoots Alex a look that’s between a pout and a glare. “You’re not helping.”

Alex feigns confusion. “Am I supposed to be helping?”

“Alright, enough,” J’onn cuts in before Kara can retort. “We just wanted you to be aware. I don’t think that this is going to be taken for anything more than it is- a humorous moment in the middle of a successful rescue. You shouldn’t worry about the press.”

And truth be told, Kara isn't worried about the press- she’s worried about the fact that she’s going to have to face Lena after this. Lena, who she knows for a fact has google alerts set for herself, Kara Danvers, and Supergirl, a gesture which is normally actually sweet and kind but is right now definitely gonna bite her in the-

“Okay! So, is that all?”

Alex blinks, looks over at J’onn, and shrugs. “I mean, yeah. Try not to make a habit of groping your crush when you’re in the suit.”

“I wasn’t groping her-”

Alex grins. “So you admit you have a crush? Interesting…”

“Alex!”

J’onn’s prediction is mostly right- no one seems to be taking the shots of her grabbi- saving Lena as anything other than a funny blip of a moment in their coverage of it.

He was wrong about the sheer scale. The clip had gone totally viral in a matter of hours, and seemingly every major network in the country has run the clip at least once as a bit of filler-fluff, and almost every major network anchor (including the ones at CatCo, the traitors) has made at least a passing joke about Supergirl being ‘Super-Handsy'.

Which means that Kara is very late getting back to Lena’s office with replacement food. But like, she’s been busy, okay? It’s not like she’s avoiding Lena, or something, because she’s embarrassed- which she isn’t, because she didn’t do anything bad or wrong and-

Anyways, it’s well past sunset by the time Kara gets to Lena’s office door again. She hesitates outside it for just a moment before shouldering the door open and knocking tentatively.

Lena’s attention jerks from whatever she’d been absorbed in to Kara, and a relieved smile blooms across her face. “Hey there.”

Kara finds herself equally relieved to not experience a repeat performance of earlier scary situations. “Hi,” Kara says, unable to resist smiling back. She raises the bags and cup carrier. “I bring grease and milkshakes. Again.”

“Oh thank god, I’m starving,” Lena says, rolling her chair away from her desk and rising into a deep and probably much-needed stretch. Kara very determinedly does not stare at the slight sliver of soft tummy that appears between her blouse and skirt at the motion. “I’ve been staring at this screen for several hours. And Sam called to yell at me- she says hello, by the way- she and Ruby are in town next weekend.”

“Good!” Kara crosses the room to the couch as Lena does, easily spreading out the veritable buffet of fast food she’d brought over the coffee table. “I mean, not good that she yelled at you, or that you’re still at work, Miss Luthor,” she says pointedly, receiving only an unapologetic shrug in response. “But good that, um-”

“I get it,” Lena chuckles, resting a hand lightly on Kara’s knee and boy, if that doesn’t make Kara’s brain go fuzzy and dumb again… “Thank you, for checking in.”

“Of course I was gonna check on you, Lena,” Kara huffs. “Plus, I know you probably didn’t get lunch, so…”

Lena hums around a mouthful of burger, chewing until she can politely speak again. “Well it’s delicious. Did you make it yourself?” she teases with a sly grin.

“Oh, yeah, totally. Slaved away over a hot stove for this- I just wrapped it in Big Belly wrappers so you wouldn’t feel bad about it.”

“Very clever.” Lena pops the lid off of her milkshake and drags a fry through it (an advanced culinary delicacy Kara had horrified her with initially but had eventually become a bit of a guilty pleasure). “Although I have to say, traditionally you’d have to buy me dinner before you grabbed my ass.”

Kara chokes on a pickle. “Oh no,” she groans, dropping the burger onto the wrapper on the table and dropping her very red face into her hands as Lena laughs beside her. She peers out from between her fingers. “I am so sorry, I was just worried about you hitting the pavement and like, catching you in the least jarring way and I wasn’t paying attention to where my hands were and I didn’t even notice until I got back to the DEO and-”

“Well I have so say, I feel a bit offended that you didn’t even realize you were copping a feel...” When the only response is another groan and a deep flush spreading from Kara’s neck to the tips of her ears, Lena relents. “Kara, Kara, it’s fine!” she laughs, pulling Kara’s hands away from her face and giving them a grounding squeeze. “Nia’s been sending me memes about it all day, which has improved my mood significantly. On the grand scale of fallout from assassination attempts, this one was at least funny.”

“I know that’s supposed to be comforting, but all it makes me wanna do is wrap you in bubble wrap forever,” Kara informs her.

“Pass on that. But seriously, don’t worry about it- I know it wasn’t on purpose- unfortunately for me, you’re too noble to do something like that,” Lena laments playfully.

And whether it’s the knowledge that Lena is not, in fact, upset, the overall weirdness that has been this day, or this delicious burger fueling it, Kara feels a bit emboldened. “Hey Lena…”

“Yes?”

“What if I wanted to grab your butt? Just, y’know, as a hypothetical. For future reference.”

Lena quirks a brow at her, fighting a smile as she contemplates this. “Hmm. Strictly hypothetically?”

Kara scoots a bit closer on the couch. “Sure.”

“Well, you’ve already bought me dinner…”

“And lunch, technically. Even if I gave it to the bad guys.”

“True. Plus you saved my life, so that gets you some points, probably.”

Kara pauses in her sly scooching. “Oh, hey, wait, no, that’s not-”

“Kidding, Kara. I know you’d never use that to your advantage. I, however, have determined that strong moral fibre and nobility do, in fact, earn you more points, which is my choice on the matter and you get absolutely no say in it.”

“Oh. Um, alright, I think.”

Lena stares off into the middle distance, tapping her forefinger thoughtfully against her chin. Finally she shrugs. “Yes, I think you’re fulfilled the prerequisites for a bit of grab-ass today.”

Kara snorts, Lena laughs, and soon enough Kara takes her up on the offer.

“Hey Kara, remember that time you grabbed Lena’s ass and it made international news?” Nia asks around a mouthful of mushu pork.

“You mean last week? Yes, I remember,” Kara drawls. Beside her/halfway sitting on her lap, Lena snorts.

“That was the best.”

Alex glares. “Um, excuse you, no. No it was not. I had to sift through so much thirsting over my sister on like, every social media platform. It was the worst day of my life.”

Brainy’s brow furrows. “Surely that cannot be correct, Alex. Statistically speaking-”

Alex holds up a hand, cutting him off. “Trauma can’t be measured, Brainy.”

Kelly chuckles and presses a consoling kiss to Alex’s cheek, and it makes the tough agent melt into a doe-eyed puddle of mush that Kara snorts. And she says they’re gross... Kara sneaks a glance at Lena from the corner of her eye, and she catches Lena looking at her. She leans close and jostles her gently as she drops her head onto Lena’ shoulder. “We’re never gonna live that down, are we?”

“Probably not.”

“We have the worst friends.” When this elicits nothing but a chuckle, Kara tips her head back to see Lena still looking at her, a soft smile playing at her mouth and shining in her eyes. And like, this whole thing they’re doing is new, with the kissing and the actual dates and the... everything else. But the thing where Kara catches Lena looking at her and she doesn’t look away? That freakin’ knocks her out, every single time. “Hey,” she manages.

Lena grins down at her. “Hi.”

So yeah. Maybe the initial circumstances weren’t ideal, and she doesn’t love the mockery that’s been heaped upon her by all of her friends and loved ones (including Winn, who’d sent a missive from the future that literally just said ‘LOL’). But the fact is, Kara muses as she surges up just enough to kiss the corner of Lena’s mouth, that she doesn’t regret a thing.

#supercorp #prompts!#asks open #ask response #supergirl fanfic #kara x lena #humor #idiots #international news about idiots #kara danvers #lena luthor #i'm also deeply sorry that this is so long on mobile #i swear there's a read more that's supposed to be there #but alas

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wrenhyperfixates · 3 years

Text

Home Is Such a Lonely Place

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: When Loki is handpicked to be part of the Avengers new space force, it causes some problems in your relationship. Will distance make the heart grow fonder or is it too much to bear? Warnings: none I believe :) A/N: Based on the song Home Is Such a Lonely Place by Blink-182. This has been sitting in my drafts since February so here it is. Hope you enjoy :)

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90 @myraiswack @mythicalgarlicknot @what-a-flammable-heart @marvelouslovely @laurenandloki @fallinallinmendes @sophlubbwriting @mooncat163

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Loki was perfect. No, you weren’t exaggerating; he really was everything you’d ever wanted. It was the circumstances that were the problem. Because you were born a mortal and he a god, so you were relegated to Earth while he spent increasingly more time in space.

The Avengers and SHIELD had both reached the same decision that Earth needed to be protected from extraterrestrial threats. So, who better to send out to space than those with the most experience out there? A team had been assembled, and Loki was put on it, traveling with them for a good many months now. You could still remember when he’d first told you.

“Darling?” he called out, coming home from work that fateful day.

“In here,” you called from the kitchen.

He walked into the messy room, hugging you from behind. Loki rested his head on your shoulder after placing a quick kiss to your cheek, breathing in your scent. You sighed as you relaxed against him, but there was an odd, nervous sort of tension in his body. Frowning as you tried to figure out why, you got an idea.

“Here, try this, love,” you suggested, holding a steaming spoon of pasta sauce to his lips.

After blowing on it a bit, he’d taken the spoon in his mouth, swallowing the sauce. He’d smiled at you, cupping your cheek. “Delicious, my sweet darling.”

“But...?” you’d prompted.

“It could use just a dash more oregano,” he conceded, pinching a small amount of the herb between his fingers and tossing it in, stirring the pot. Mimicking your actions from just moments ago, he held out a spoonful for you to try. “Well?”

“It’s perfect, Loki,” you beamed, pulling him closer. “So perfect, in fact, that I think you need a taste too.”

“Oh, is that so?” he chuckled.

“Mhm,” you hummed before kissing him, the taste of the sauce still on your mouth.

“You were right,” he purred, pulling back a little bit. “Absolutely perfect.”

Troubles momentarily forgotten, the raven haired god set the table for two as you finished cooking dinner. The two of you sat, chatting and eating and holding hands. Everything was going so well, and then you asked a question that made his smile falter.

“So how was your day?” you’d inquired.

“About that,” he said, setting down his utensil. “We need to talk.”

“Uh oh,” you responded. You felt a little nervous as you put down your fork too. “That doesn’t sound good. Is everything ok?”

“Yes... and no,” he sighed. “SHIELD is putting together a team to take care of threats from other planets. A team that they have told me I am to be on.”

“Oh,” you replied, trying to keep your face neutral. You didn’t want to be upset if it was something he was actually excited for. “And it’s required you go?”

“Not exactly. If I plead my case, I’m certain I can stay. Believe me, I do not want to leave you. I will stay, if you wish me to.”

“Well, how long would you be gone for?”

“I am uncertain. It could be three months, or it might be ten.” He bit his lip. “But, darling, tell me to stay and without hesitation, I shall.”

It felt like the floor was falling out from under you. Of course you wanted him to stay, but would that really be fair? Could you let yourself be the one to hold him back? If there was one thing you knew, you loved each other. As long as you didn’t forget or doubt that, you could weather anything.

“No, Loki, it’s a great opportunity,” you said. “You should go. I’ll be waiting here when you get back.”

“Oh, darling,” he whispered, sliding out of his chair. Kneeling before you, Loki rested his head in your lap, and you ran your fingers through his silky black hair. “I swear these next three weeks shall be the best of your life. I will dedicate all my time to you before I leave.”

“My love, I would like nothing more, but I don’t want to monopolize all your time,” you hesitantly said. Though you wanted to spend as much time with him as you could before he left, you didn’t want him to feel obligated to. “If you really don’t mind, though, please do.”

Of course, he was more than happy to and spent just as much time with you as he had promised. But now he’d been gone for six months, and you missed him terribly. You laid on the roof, petting the cat Loki had bought you before he left. So you never got lonely, he said. It had shiny black fur and beautiful green eyes. As soon as Loki gifted your new friend to you, you’d named him Loki Jr., earning you a playful eye roll from the trickster god.

Remembering that night brought a brief smile to your face. Now, you looked up at the moon, Loki Jr. purring as you pet his soft fur. You wondered where your lover was out there in that great expanse of space. Was he looking at it like an empty void? Or was he appreciating the stars and the wonders that were held out there? Maybe he was just indifferent to it, you thought. After all, he’d grown up on Asgard, so perhaps he was used to it.

Going back to your room that evening, your bed felt empty. Your home just felt so lonely without Loki. The real Loki, anyway. As much as you loved Loki Jr., it just wasn’t the same thing. Was your love thinking the same thing, you wondered? You hoped so, but didn’t want to think about it too much, lest your brain make you believe he didn’t miss you.

Sighing, you buried your nose into Loki Jr.’s fur. You had no one to blame except yourself, really. Loki had asked you repeatedly if you wanted him to stay, but you always said no. Told him he had to live his life to the fullest. That he couldn’t wait for you to give him the ok. You’d still be here when you got back, and you had your job at the Tower to keep you occupied. Of course, every mission you observed from there reminded you of Loki. How you’d met and all the shy glances you’d shared. You couldn’t help yourself from wondering how he was doing. He’d be alright, you were sure. But until he got back, it seemed there was nothing you could do to ease your worrying.

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

Space was beautiful, there was no denying that. But it was kind of cold and empty too. Especially since the trickster god had to be without you, his beloved. Now that’s not to say he wasn’t having fun or wasn’t enjoying the time he got to spend with his brother. He just still really missed you and your company.

Loki ran his fingers over the picture he had of you. Not too much longer until he could brush his fingers over the soft skin of your beautiful face. Oh, how eight months could feel like a million years, Loki didn’t know. Well, in a way he did; any time spent away from the one you loved with your whole heart as he did you was bound to be tedious and feel drawn out. He’d be arriving back home tomorrow. Or, rather, today, he realized with a thrill as he checked the clock, reading midnight.

It was a bit of a struggle, but soon he was able to fall asleep. When he woke up, there was a mere hour left before reentry into Midgard’s atmosphere. Even with as empty space was, it somehow felt even lonelier with you. And now he’d be back with you in your shared apartment. He couldn’t wait until that night when you got to lay together just holding each other, basking in the other’s presence.

“Well, brother, are you ready to head back?” Thor asked, clapping Loki on the back.

“You have no idea just how eager I am, brother,” Loki replies. “It has been too long away from my beloved.”

“And certainly, they are missing you, too,” the God of Thunder assured.

“I can only hope. But what if they have moved on? We have not even been able to talk to each other in over a month. What if... What if they do not love me anymore?” Loki let himself be vulnerable, utilizing the relationship he and his brother had cultivated on this journey. “They did, after all, encourage me to go. Quite a bit.”

“Yes, but you know they just did not want to hold you back. Cheer up, Loki. Everything will be just fine.”

By the time they landed, Loki had mainly eased his worries, though he did feel a twinge of panic in his heart when he didn’t immediately see you while walking off the ramp. Luckily, you were there, he’d just missed you in the crowd.

Immediately, you ran to him, giving him the biggest hug you could. He reciprocated, beyond happy to feel your frame pressed against his. Tension relieved from both your bodies as you held each other.

“Hello, sweet darling,” he smiled.

“Hello, my love.”

Kissing the top of your head, Loki led you, following the gathered group as they walked further into the Tower while laughing and chatting with their recently arrived teammates. Loki kept an arm around your shoulder, and you one around his waist, the need to keep each other close quite obvious.

You and your boyfriend had to separate for a little while as Loki went to a debriefing. Soon he was back out, and the two of you joined the Avengers for a little welcome party of sorts. It was really just a get-together for the team to catch up. Even though it was a ton of fun, you were more than happy when you and Loki were in your car, driving back to your apartment.

“Welcome home,” you grinned, opening the door. Loki Jr. immediately came and rubbed himself against your legs. Loki smiled as you bent down to pet the cat, glad to know his plan had worked, at least in some degree. “Did you miss it?”

He cupped your cheek, looking deep into your eyes. “You have no idea, darling.”

Unable to wait any longer, Loki leaned in and kissed you. You responded immediately, brining him closer to you. He lifted you up and put your body between his and the wall. You giggled when the two of you finally broke for air, and Loki planted a million little kisses along your neck.

“I missed you, too,” you panted, still breathless.

“Next time,” he said between kisses, “I am telling them I am staying here.”

“Wait.” You brushed a few of his raven locks behind his ear, cocking your head at him. “Next time?”

Loki sighed. He knew he shouldn’t have brought this up so soon. The last thing he wanted was to make you upset on the day he came back home. All the trickster god wanted was to be with you, but of course he had to mention it. You had an adorable inquisitiveness in your eyes as you continued to play with his hair, twirling some of it between your fingers. He wondered if there was still a chance to save the day after his blunder.

“Yes. Fury wants to ship the team back out in a few months. After so long away from you, my darling, the thought sounds torturous. I will stay here. With you,” he explained, setting you back onto the ground.

“But that’s not fair to you,” you protested. “I shouldn’t be the only thing tethering you here. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“No, darling. I want to stay with you, I swear,” he vowed. You frowned, and he felt his heart drop a little. You said you missed him, and yet you were telling him to go again. “Look, sweet darling, it is late already. Let us just enjoy this night together. There is plenty of time to decide.”

“Ok,” you agreed, burying your face against his chest as you hugged again. You really didn’t want him to go, but a human like you shouldn’t tie down a god like him, you thought.

You led him to the bedroom you’d so missed sharing with him. After getting ready for the evening, you both laid in bed, talking of lighter topics. Neither of you could keep your hands off the other, and constantly maintained some kind of contact. Loki hadn’t even realized how late it’d gotten until your sentences began to be punctuated by yawns. Though you would have rather continued the conversation, you acquiesced when he suggested getting some sleep.

“You know,” you said, cuddling up to him, already half asleep. “If you do want to go on the next mission, I won’t be mad, my love.”

“I know. But I want to be with you. Yet you keep telling me to go and...” he trailed off, absentmindedly rubbing your back. “We will talk another time. Just sleep for now, my sweet darling.”

“Alright,” you hummed against him. “Goodnight. I love you. I promise, I’ll never stop loving you.”

“And I promise the same. I love you too.”

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

There was only a month left before Loki would leave again. If he left again. You were both still debating, though you had eased up a bit after he voiced his concerns.

“Really, you should go. I- What’s wrong?” you’d asked during one such argument when he frowned.

“You say you love me, but you try to send me away,” he replied, a few tears gathering in his eyes, threatening to spill. “Why?”

“Oh, Loki, I really do love you. I swear on my life.”

“I believe you,” he assured while you kissed his forehead, though with an unmistakable hint of doubt behind the words.

“It’s just you’re a god. And I’m a mortal. I don’t want to hold you back. Hold you here. I don’t really want you to leave either; home is lonely without you. So if you really want to be on Midgard, of course I’ll support that too. I just can’t imagine you wouldn’t rather be free to roam.”

“In all honesty, my darling,” Loki began, “I do quite enjoy space travel. The settling down is nice too, of course, but there is something about being out there that’s freeing. So no, it is not that I want to be on Midgard, but that I want to be with you. I need to be with you. I love you so, so much, and I cannot bear to go without you for so long again.”

“Well, that’s it then. I need you too because I love you too. And you don’t want to go without me, but what about with me? We’ve been so caught up in our argument, we didn’t even consider another option.”

“Bring you with me?”

You nodded nervously. Maybe he was going to tell you it was too dangerous. Maybe he was just being nice saying he wanted to stay with you. But no, he wouldn’t have been this stubborn if that was the case. Just as you were going to try to recant your suggestion, Loki surged forward and kissed you.

“Darling, you’re a genius!” he exclaimed, pulling away. “I cannot believe we did not think of it sooner. You can work on the ship to monitor the missions, just like you do here. And we will be together. It is perfect!”

“Is it ok if we bring Loki Jr. too?” you asked as the cat plopped himself in your lap.

“For you, my sweet darling? For you I would do anything, so of course it is,” he chuckled as he cupped your cheek and kissed you again.

When you broke apart again, you felt happier than you had in a long time, knowing you wouldn’t have to part again. After all, he was your home, and you were his. So as long as you were together, home could never be a lonely place.

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sapiowoman28 · 3 years

Text

Try (Chapter 6): Madam's Party

Pairing: Mark x Y/N x Johnny

Genre: smut, fluff, undercover au with cranky undercover agents

Warnings: mentions of Mark's mental health issues, brief mention of bathroom sex, drug use, Jaehyun is miserable, Doyoung is back, Taeyong saves the day, mentions of a fight. Oh, and Ten doesn't like women hitting on him.

Note: the next few chapters after this one and the next will focus more on the relationship between Johnny and Y/N as well as the dynamic between Doyoung and Y/N.

Mark watched the screen as his online payment went through. He had just booked his tickets for his trip to London. This time he planned to stay 2 weeks.

He had learned his lesson. That one time a year or two ago he stayed there for a month, and it was a total disaster. He came back with his head all messed up, panicking about life in general.

Then both Taeyong and Y/N convinced him to do some online therapy thing and things got better. He was in a better head space now. He was no longer a nervous wreck, overthinking his life and his future. But he kept his trips short. The London weather just didn't agree with him, and he didn't really enjoy the vibe there.

His phone beeped. He picked it up to see who had texted.

"Hey." it was Y/N. He missed his best friend terribly. But he wasn't sure if he was ready to talk.

"Hi." he replied after 2 minutes of staring at the message.

"You going for the party?"

"Yeah. With Kun and Lucas."

"I'm going too."

"With Doyoung?" he smiled to himself. "I heard he's going."

"Mark Lee! You never change do you?" he could imagine her looking exasperated. He giggled to himself.

Silence. He put his phone back down.

It dinged again a minute later. It was her.

"I should have used the safe word when you did what you did. Instead i just continued and got resentful. And made you leave after that."

"I should have been gentle.... I'm sorry Y/N."

"Maybe we need to talk about no go areas. Johnny thinks three of us should have dinner next week and talk. We're all new to this you know."

"I'm going to London next week. For two weeks."

"Can I go too? I really want to meet that weird uncle of yours who believes in aliens."

They ended up talking on the phone, catching up about life the past 2 weeks. Neither of them mentioned the incident again. The discomfort was still a little too fresh in their minds. But they were glad they were talking again.

The party was in full swing when Y/N arrived at half past 11. Yuta had indeed booked the entire VIP section and just about everyone was there. A small group of people had formed around Doyoung, fussing over him and his crutches and he was enjoying every bit of attention he was given. She rolled her eyes.

She wasnt sure if she was ready to face him yet. Their relationship had been terse since that incident where she punched him in the face during a heated argument. in the middle of an operation. in fact when Doyoung got into an accident during the next operation she was a little relieved he would be out for a while to recover. Now he was a little more mobile, it sure looked like he would be back sooner rather than later.

But having to deal with Taeyoung was worse. At least Doyoung recognised she was the best person to get advice on technology matters, and respected her recommendations. So maybe Doyoung being back would be a good thing. She decided to walk over. Doyoung had spotted her, and there was no escape now anyway.

"DDDDDDD!!!!!!" she shrieked excitedly hoping she was at least a little convincing.

"Oh my! Y/N! You are looking good! Must be the glow of love?" Doyoung winked as they hugged.

Stupid Taeyong. He couldn't ever stop talking about Johnny to everyone.

"I see Taeyong's told you."

"Yes, of course, he really really approves." Doyoung whispered. "I just hope you're behaving?"

Y/N sighed. The legacy of her and Mark was always going to be there. No escape. She wished they'd get over it for once. It only happened the first 6 months of her joining the unit. They had already declared each other as best friends a year ago. But everyone still insisted they had a thing for each other.

Some other person faked shrieked at Doyoung and she left as soon as she could, taking a seat at the bar to people watch, ordering a drink. She scanned the room, cursing silently as she saw Ten approaching.

She wasn't in the mood to talk about work now. He wasn't pleased with the first draft of her report, and wanted to make changes she didn't approve of. The guy had something stuck up his ass. It always had to be done his way, but it just wasn't always the best way to go about things.

"Hi my dear!" Ten gave her a kiss on both her cheeks. "Looking good! Heard from Taeyong you have a boyfriend now."

She was going to kill Taeyong.

"You look hot, Ten. I love your shirt! Are the girls throwing themselves at you again?" she grinned.

Ten grimaced. "I seriously don't want to talk about it."

"You're so handsome, I don't blame them you know." she pinched his cheek. He laughed.

"About the report you emailed me." he started.

"I saw your email. But i don't wanna talk about work tonight, Ten. Can we just have fun?" she pouted.

"Fine. I'll call you on Monday. Anyway i just came over to say hi and tell you how good you're looking. I've to go back to the guys. I've been tasked to keep an eye on Jaehyun tonight. He's being a little heavy with the drinking."

"I'm sorry, is this seat taken?" they turned to look. Mark.

"Hello stranger." Y/N grinned. Mark looked adoringly at her.

"I promise I won't tell anyone." said Ten, slipping away. "Your boyfriend won't ever find out!"

"What's wrong with him?" mark asked.

"He's been tasked with babysitting Jae."

"Oh man. Dude must be in a totally angsty mood now."

"Yeah this party isn't helping, you know. It's like Yuta rubbing in his face, 'I got a promotion, Jaehyun! I got a promotion! Yay!!!'"

"And you're drinking?" he tasted her gin and tonic. "You can't even handle the alcoholic content of Kombucha."

"Mark Lee! I swear to god! I was not tipsy on Kombucha that time. You need to stop telling that story to everyone. I can hold my liquor!" Y/N faked strangled him as he giggled.

Their eyes met. And the laughing stopped.

"I missed you." he said.

"You were the one who refused to talk to me. For two fucking weeks, Mark Lee! Two weeks!" she chided.

"You didn't talk to me either."

"I wanted to give you space."

"Thanks. I needed time to think."

"Are you done thinking?"

"Yeah.

"What's the conclusion."

"I agree with you guys that we need to discuss no-go areas. We can do that when I'm back."

"Ok. As long as your mind is not fucked up like that time... "

"It was just one time, Y/N! Just one time!"

"I'm just teasing you baby. Im glad therapy has helped you feel more grounded." She smiled. "I'm proud of your progress you know."

"I miss you calling me baby." he grabbed her hand.

"Mark, people are watching. I bet Kun's watching us now." she scanned the room, catching Kun's eye at the other side of the bar where he was with Lucas and Doyoung. Kun, realising he had been caught watching, looked away after shaking his head.

"Idiot." she cursed. "Maybe we should put on a show to irritate him."

Mark giggled.

"I can't believe Lucas and Doyoung are hanging out." Y/N nudged Mark, whose eyes grew huge upon realising that they were indeed siting together.

"Lucas fucking hates him, yo!"

"Well Doyoung doesn't like Lucas much either. Which makes this funny."

"Half the people here don't like the other half. They're all pretending."

"So are you pretending to like me too Mark Lee?"

"What do you think, Y/N?"

"You love me." she grinned.

"Well you love me too." he winked then stiffened. This conversation was getting odd. Y/N looked away.

They spent the evening in a comfortable silence, watching the party get rowdier and rowdier as more people joined. Some people started to bring out the magical stuff and it was downhill from there.

Y/N knew she was done for the night when she needed the rest room, only to enter it and find Yuta with his lady bent over the sink, him screwing her. She froze, they stopped to look at her, eyes dilated from whatever drug they had taken.

"Er. Hi guys!" she chirped awkwardly.

"Y/N!!!" Yuta exclaimed excitedly as Madam giggled. "Hi Y/N!"

"Bye!" she grinned.

she turned around stomping off. She needed to pee. Badly. There was only one person who could help her.

"Taeyong!" She yelled as she stomped towards him. He was talking to Mark and Taeil. All three of them looked at her.

"Hmm. Someone looks crossed." Taeyong teased. She wasn't in the mood for teasing.

"I need to pee urgently, but your two best friends are in there screwing. You're the only person who can sort this out, Tae! Please, put your tyrant nature to good use?"

Mark laughed hysterically as Taeil shook his head and smiled.

"Your wish is my command, Miss Y/N" Taeyong laughed before strding to the female restroom to scare them out.

"And you thought your unit was dysfunctional." Taeil said to Y/N who burst out laughing.

Taeyong came back after completing his task, and Y/N raced to the washroom, glad to finally be able to pee. She washed her hands, and was touching up her lipstick when she heard Mark's voice.

"Er. Y/N?" He stood at the door awkwardly.

"Mark, what the heck?"

"I think we should leave. A fight broke out."

"what happened?"

"I think Jaehyun challenged Yuta to a fist fight."

Y/N sighed. Maybe Taeil was right about his unit. And yes, it was time to call it a night. But she was hungry.

"Supper?" she asked Mark. His eyes lit up as he nodded his head.

#nct imagines #nct 127 imagines #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct mark #nct taeyong #nct taeil #nct yuta #wayv kun #wayv ten #wayv lucas #nct doyoung #nct jaehyun

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byunbaekby · 4 years

Text

One Day (PM 01:27)

Pairing: Reader x ex!Doyoung Summary: You’ve never been able to let Doyoung go. He remains in your heart though you can’t erase him, your memories that you can’t let go of. He lives in your books, though you try to ignore his presence. And now, he stands before you to remind you of that time you’ve lost. Word Count: 2.6k Author’s Note: Please enjoy this t h i n g that I wrote at one in the morning because Replay (PM 01:27) came on, and I’ve always loved that song. I’ve always felt like, although it’s kind of disco-y and upbeat, it had a deeper sadder meaning. So here is my word vomit, inspired by one of my favorite NCT 127 songs :)

Your break-up wasn’t supposed to be a break up.

Initially, it was just a break.

Fresh out of college with your undergrads, drowning in debt and lacking in love, you told your boyfriend of three years, Kim Doyoung, that you needed a break. You had simply grown apart, and needed time to reprocess your relationship. Being the understanding man you knew him to be, he obliged.

You had expected it to last a week or two, maybe a month. But Doyoung had packed his necessities from your shared apartment and, with a kiss on your forehead, left for Taeyong's place, promising to be back whenever you needed. But he never came back.

You didn’t really know what it was that kept you from calling him.

Perhaps it was that you were a writer. Your head in the clouds and your emotions always running wild, you constantly overthought every single detail of your relationship. You would keep telling yourself you needed more time away. That time grew from days, to weeks, to months, until it had been over a year since the last time Doyoung pressed his chapped lips to your skin in a chaste kiss.

Perhaps it was that Doyoung, as a law student, was far too emotionless and had no qualms giving you your infinite space, even as your relationship silently disintegrated. He respected your space, told you to reach out to him when you were ready. But you had never been ready.

Perhaps it was just that in your time apart, the love faded. You both came to realize this.

I can't move an inch, I’m still here. Afterimages of you dig into me like vibrations. At the end of the scene of longing that always circles my head. I heard a familiar sound.

It’s been two years since the last time you set foot on Korean soil.

After your break-up with Doyoung, after you came to terms with the fact that you would never collect the courage to pick up the phone and tell him that you made a mistake, you left your home for greener pastures. In other words, the States.

You had minored in English Literature anyways, and felt that you had a greater chance to kickstart your career in a different country. In some ways, perhaps you needed to get away as well. Get away from the craziness of Korea, from the reminders of Doyoung and the life you once shared together that was no longer attainable.

It’s all a lie, for your heart has been in the same place all this time.

Though it’s only been a mere three hours since you’ve stepped off the plane, your luggage tucked away in your hotel room somewhere negligible in your mind, you remember why you never wanted to return. If not for the release of your first Korean novel, you would have never come back.

Because Doyoung is everywhere.

You see him as you turn the corner, thinking you catch a glimpse of that ugly old car he had always insisted on keeping.

You feel him as you walk down the crowded street bustling with people in the afternoon, clutching your hand tightly to prevent losing you.

You taste him as you walk past a bar the two of you used to frequent, alcohol on his lips as you tugged him home with giggles on your’s.

And now, as you stand at a crosswalk surrounded by tens of commuting passerbyers, your hands tucked into the pockets of your Burberry trench coat, you hear him.

“Y/N?”

Except you turn and discover that he is real.

Between the passing people, your melody scatters. Just like then, we're facing each other.

“So… How have you been?”

He is first to break the awkward silence. Your hands, cold from both the air conditioning and your trembling nerves, clutch tighter at your cup of tea. You can see it now. Just four years ago, in the comfortable phase of your relationship, you sat with him in the same cafe, in that corner over there and helplessly in love.

Now he offers a tight-lipped smile to you.

“Fine.”

“Seems like you’re doing more than fine. I… I’ve seen your name on the news. And writer’s lists, your work is doing really well.” You would have never thought that he’d seen your writing. It was all in English, a language you didn’t remember him being too proficient in.

“I guess,” is your response. To anyone, you would have sounded indifferent, uninterested in a conversation with your ex.

A pregnant silence grows between you. Now, it is not Doyoung who is emotionless and stone-faced, but you. He had always been the rock in your relationship—you were infinitely falling apart in emotion and he was always putting you back together. Now, you are stone cold and he is reaching out to you.

“You still don’t drink coffee.” No, you don’t. You had always despised it.

“And you still drink your cafe latte with caramel drizzle.” This brings a soft smile to his face, as if amused by the fact that you could still recall such memories from your mind. What he doesn’t know is that you had spent almost three years away from him trying to banish these thoughts from your mind. You didn’t want to remember, yet he forever remained like an echo in your brain.

“Yeah,” Doyoung starts. “Some things don’t change after all.” Oh, but they do. Everything has changed, except perhaps your preference in drinks.

Another silence.

He looks healthy. He doesn’t look like a man who had been blindsighted and left in the dark by his long term girlfriend and lover. His face is more defined, no longer softened by the image of youth. Shoulders broadened. Hair done. He dons a suit, pricey as you can recall the brand. But he’s still Doyoung, the man you had been in love with since you laid eyes on him at eighteen years old.

“I’m a lawyer now.” You hadn’t even thought to ask him about his whereabouts. How rude, you scold yourself.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Finished law school a year ago. I didn’t really want to but… Taeyong encouraged me to finish what I already started. I work at Jaehyun’s dad’s firm now.”

“Oh. That’s… nice.”

You wonder fleetingly if you sound uninterested, because you’re not. It’s quite the opposite.

You’re amazed.

Unable to prevent the river of memories that hit you, you relish in it instead. Doyoung hunched over his books for hours; Doyoung stressing over his law school applications, even though you had assured him multiple times that he would be accepted with flying colors; Doyoung always debating with you over the simplest topics, and you laughing to tell him that he’d make the perfect lawyer, always so argumentative. The only time he hadn’t argued was when you told him to leave.

Another silence, except this time, it is you who breaks it.

“I’m proud of you.”

A softness falls over Doyoung’s eyes which are typically always so guarded.

“Thank you.”

Old memories, frozen times. Songs we listened to together. You and I, it's clear like it was yesterday.

“You hate it!”

“No… I never said that, baby.” You stare at him with narrowed eyes and a pout on your lips. The two of you are sitting on your bed in your PJs, it is nearly two in the morning. In his hands, your boyfriend holds the first draft of your first short story.

Though he tries to keep a straight face for half a second, he soon bursts into laughter, tilting his head back. With an indignant grunt you snatch the papers from him.

“You’d be a horrible lawyer, you’ve got horrible resolve,” you frown, clutching the papers close to your chest with a pout.

“Baby,” he says, remnants of his laugh from earlier still present in his voice. “It’s not poorly written.” As he speaks, you tuck the papers into the drawer of your nightstand and instead tuck yourself into his arms. “It’s just cliche, I mean, her parents are dead from a drunk driving car accident? She falls in love with a boy after they get paired for a project together? This is K-drama central.”

“It was the best I could do,” you mumble into his chest as he pulls you close in bed, resting his chin on top of your head.

“Thank you for your best.” Even when he is making fun of you, you feel the sincerity in his words. He never means to hurt you; that is Doyoung. He is brash and serious, sometimes too serious to the point where you don’t know when he’s joking, but he never means to cause you any pain. “But I know you’ll be better one day. And one day, I’ll read every single one of your books. I promise, and you know I’m a lawful man!”

One day. One day with Doyoung, you can see it already. “Yeah, one day when you’re the top lawyer at the firm and I’m a famous author.” You grin, tearing from his chest to shoot him a bright smile. “People will pay you billions to have you protect them, and I’ll be picking out stars for my first movie… Song Joongki will do.” This brings a giggle from your throat.

He presses his lips to your forehead, a trademark of his.

“Sounds like a plan, love. One day.”

We were so perfect and it hasn’t faded. I want to turn back time.

Though the two of you are standing in the middle of the sidewalk, surrounded by a bustling crowd of people and noise which never seems to cease, the silence is overwhelming.

It’s the same silence that lingered between you for years following your “break,” because neither of you were willing to smash it. Smash the wall between you, one that had been erected without either of your knowledge. The two of you have changed, have grown, have become adults. Yet it seems you are still both afraid.

He walks you to the crosswalk that you had earlier met at. As you are waiting for the light to turn green to allow your journey across the street, Doyoung produces something from inside his suit jacket.

It is your book, the first with its phonetics written in Korean, your mother tongue. It had only been released yesterday.

“I just finished reading this, on my lunch break, when I saw you.”

Does he know? Does he know that it is your story? A story of love, of the love that never asked but never ended. A question mark on the end of a seven year long story, never to have an ending? A couple that falls in love, falls apart, and moves on. Life doesn’t have happy endings, after all.

“You read it?” “Of course. I promised I’d read all your books.” The thought makes your heart lurch, but rather than lean away from him, it reaches out to him.

“Thank you for today. I know it was sudden, but thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to have coffee with me.. Miss famous author.” You look up to him and he has a slight smile curving on his lips.

“Any time, Doie.” The name catches him off guard, but he tightens his lips and smiles. You mirror it.

Yet another silence grows and you almost wish you could live the rest of your lifetime without ever thinking, writing, or experiencing that word ever again.

The look that Doyoung has on his face is stoic. You want him to say it, you know he has something unsaid. It almost feels as though he has dug it from within him after three years. You know it. Say it, you want to urge him in your head.

“Have a good life, Y/N.” It is a goodbye, a final closing on your story which had been left open-ended for so many years. The thought makes you want to cry. Just hours ago you had stepped off the plane, thinking that you were perfectly content in this new life you had grown without Kim Doyoung. Now, the thought of living without him causes your heart to tighten painfully.

“You too, Doyoung.”

The light turns green. You turn your back to him.

Like Doyoung had done at your request a number of years ago, you walk away.

Our hearts that connected one by one. Our hearts that beat toward each other. In this moment, we want the same dream.

You’ve counted twenty steps when you can’t walk any further. Frantically you turn around, and search for his disappearing head in the crowd of people.

No, you can’t allow him to walk away. Not again.

“Doyoung!” You yell, but he can’t hear you. The silence is deafening.

Though the light on the crosswalk has now turned red, you sprint across. You cannot lose sight of him, you cannot allow yourself to lose him once again.

“Doyoung!” Please.

You have found him. He is walking, his eyes to the ground and your book in his hands. You have to find it—the courage, the voice within you to call out to him.

You love him.

“Kim Doyoung!” He stops. He’s heard you.

Doyoung stops in his tracks and turns over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. You were supposed to be gone, you were supposed to walk away on the crosswalk back to your hotel and out of his life once again. But no, you were standing here before him with panting breaths and tears in your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” There, you have said it. You are sorry for letting go. You are sorry for allowing your relationship to dissipate into thin air and nothingness. You are sorry for running away, and for never being able to say it until now. “I love you, I love you so much. I’ve never stopped loving you. I tried to ignore it and pretend I didn’t, and pretend that I didn’t care when you never came back from Taeyong’s. I pretended I didn’t care when I threw out the stuff you left behind, I pretended it didn’t hurt me when I stepped on that plane.” Your tears are free-falling now, and suddenly you feel Doyoung’s large hands on your cheeks, cupping them as your book falls to the ground. How foolish you must look, crying in the middle of the day in the midst of the city, but you don’t care.

“I pretended that I didn’t miss you, I pretended my heart didn’t do a thousand and one flips when you called my name today, I pretended that everything would be okay eventually if I kept ignoring the fact that I couldn’t live without you, because I thought it would be okay one day.”

One day.

“But I don’t want that day to come. That day where I can live without you. I want our one day. The one day where I’m happy and you’re happy and we can live out our dreams that we’ve planned since we were stupid kids in love in college. The one day where we can be okay again... Doyoung, I want you. I want your one day and the rest of your days.” Your voice catches in your throat. To be able to admit aloud verbally, to both him and yourself, it makes you cry even harder.

You hadn’t noticed until now that your tears were matched by his. God, you love him so much.

“Okay,” Doyoung manages, voice low as his shaky breath touches your lips. “Today.”

Cause I just want to be, I just want to be loved.

#nct #nct 127 #doyoung #kim doyoung #nct doyoung #doyoung fanfic #doyoung imagine #doyoung angst #doyoung fluff #nct angst #nct fanfic #nct imagine #this turned out a LOT longer than i planned #but whooop

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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Of Moons, Millionares and Mothers Part 2: The Ballad of Duke Balloney or “I’m Flintheart Glomgold and I Always Will Be!” (Commission for WeirdKev27)

Hello all you happy people. I”m Jake, I review stuff and today continues my look at Ducktales season 2 story arcs, of Moons, Millionares and Mothers. And while this arc as a whole is paid for by WeirdKev27, due to the Arc’s length, 17 parts including 15 episodes and 6 comics (2 of which will be in the same review), this one’s special as he’s using his patreon review every month to do so. If you too want me to review something of your choice simply hit up my ask box or join my patreon at patreon.com/popculture buffet. You get access to my discord, to pick a short when I do a group of them for characters birthdays, help me hit neat stretch goals like my next which is reviewing a darkwing duck episode a month, and best of all EXCLUSIVE REVIEWS. And I just added one this saturday of a carl barks story centerting around wigs, legal battles and attempted murder, both by our villian.. and by our heroes...

I will never get tired of that panel nor the boys inexplicably finding a blowgun. Point is it’s there if you want it at THIS LINK, but enough plugging so I can help pay the streaming bills and keep doing this... let’s get to the meat of things shall we?

This episode begins the second arc of this retrospective, The Glomgold Arc. And this arc was inevitibly going to come to this blog for two reasons. The first is that I have made no secret, in fact i’ve shouted it as loud as I can the neighbors are concerned, that I fucking love the 2017 Version of Flintheart Glomgold.

Glomgold is Keith Ferguson’s best role, tied with Lord Hater obviously, but it is indeed a tie. No one but Keith could’ve pulled off glomgold’s combination of ego, ham, and batshit insanity. He just makes the utterly stupid and wonderfully ludicrious things that come out of the mans mouth sound so damn natural with such an unearned confidence. It’s very clear that Frank had Keith in mind when putting this version of everyone’s faviorite South African Billionare pretending to be a Scottish Billionare and wisely built the characcter around him and his immense talent. I was not familiar with Keith at all, wasn’t even aware he voiced hater before this show but damn if that hasn’t fully changed.

Glomgold was also just in general a brilliant update of the character: While I know a lot of duck fans weren’t happy with this version at least at first. As the action figure sitting on my shelf that once road in a car with my david hasslehoff baywatch funko pop I have entirley due to my love of baywatching, this insane music video hoff did in the early 2000′s, and just in general how gloriously rediculous the man’s life is when you stop and think about it for a second from a pay per-view concert that ended up falling on the same night as The OJ Chase, to his kung fury cameo , to his weird insetence they never had sex on baywatch desspite mounds of video evdience and the fact the show was buit around the bulk of it’s cast’s sex appeal, to the fact the model of his pecs used for the spongebob movie was sold in an auction and on and on... I was going somewhere with this...

Oh right as the action figure, and previous praise, shows I am not one of these fans: The original isn’t bad, in fact one of my faviorite life and times chapters that i’ll be covering this week and talking about later in the review has him as the main antagonist and a pitvitol figure in Scrooge’s life in the worst way possible. Rosa GETS what’s needed for Flinty to feel specail: to have him be an evil mirror to scrooge, what he could’ve been had he kept down the path he started down in Africa. A ruthless, amoral asshole who will do ANYTHING to get rich.

It’s just often that isn’t emphasised enough and he’s instead just another one of the millions of generic assholes trying to get scrooges money sometimes with hired goons...

Not only that but Frank really COULDN’T have him at full effectivness. See an arch enemy in the Silver Age, which STARTED the same year Glomgold Debuted no less, wasn’t a big deal. They were still considered your deadliest foe but they’d often, much like Flinty be shuffled into the rogues gallery, show up for an issue to meance the hero, then either escape, get thrown in jail only to escape from that easily later, or be presumed dead. The last one I bring up because it happened to Magneto a LOTTTT pre-claremont. For Fuck’s Sake Charles have those teenagers train to look for a body once in a while!

Original Flinty was built for that, and brilliantly so as Barks had a talent for it , as seen by the fact The Beagle BOys, Flintheart and Magica have stuck around ever since and even in comics overseas where Flintehart is replaced.. it’s by Rockerduck who Barks ALSO created. The 87 Show followed the same formula, which was just as standard for 80′s cartoons. It’s why Megatron took until his toy was canceled the movie to shoot starscream in the face.

The problem is villians evolved and the expecation became more that a true arch enemy had to be a true threat. While Frank and Matt COULD’VE made Flintheart a real and honest threat, he also would’ve had to make him a Big Bad. The probelm was those seats were clearly taken: while i’m pretty sure some ideas came as they went, the main story beats were clearly planned out well in advance: Webby being a clone was always the plan, as was FOWL, Darkwing being a fan of a fictional Darkwing who became the real thing, and Della being on the moon. So he presumibly carefully choose each season’s big bad... and thus Season’s 1-3 would be full up wise. Season 1 had Magica, who he made into a TRUE threat, yet left the door open for her to return as she did, Season 2 had Lunaris who even if they hadn’t fully thought him up, they probably had thought up the moonvasion, and Season 3 was what they’d built the series towards with FOWL.

Details probably changed, it’s very clear to me they were likely going to have all three buzzards be important and ended up deicding to pivot to it just being Bradford over time. But given how well they though tout the general framework, I highly doubt Flinty was ever considered as a seirous big bad.. and I know i’m saying this in an arc that tried to set him up as one, but i’m getting there simmer.

So they could wait for a season 4 that might not happen.. or make him a recurring villian. So Frank and Matt decided to do that and leaned into comedy. Centering him around keith who Frank worked with previously on Wonder and thus knew he could play a hammy manchild like no one else, they simply leaned into the goofier aspects of his personality. His being similar to scrooge became him being an intentional and blatant knockoff. As Scrooge himself perfectly summed up in episode 1 “The poor man’s version of me.. which to be fair still makes him insanely rich”.

It’s another reason to really love this version as while yes, they did make him a bafoon.. he’s a wonderfully, redicuously layered bafoon: He still contrasts scrooge perfectly, manically hammy to Scrooge being calm, especially around flinty, blantatly crooked to Scrooge’s died in wool honesty, and wasting money on revenge instead of spending it on his actual company. There’s more obviously but some i’m saving for the review.

Not only that but his insane schemery has a rhyme and reason to it: He attacks Scrooge every week like the saturday morning cartoon villian he is, but his schemes are always unwieldly and massively stupid, and he always goes with the first draft. It’s something the team enforced: the first version is what they role with because that’s how his sad brain works. He also is obssed with sharks and explosives, the former being given a suprisingly heartfelt and unsuprisingly insanne origin story towards the series end, and works them into every plot no matter how much itm akes no sense. He’s pure ego, pure stupid and pure fun.

So yeah circling back to him being the big bad, I felt he was made one for this season for two reasons: the first is while a lot of fans (raises hand) enjoyed this version, some didn’t like how inept he was, so this would give them a breif bit of Flintheart being a genuine threat again. The other was frankly... they didn’t want to play their hand. Lunaris WAS the big bad... but fans would get supscious if there was seemingly no true threat on the horizon. Magica popped up in episode 4. We didn’t know her full plan yet true, but all we needed was lena SAYING HER NAME and fans of any other version of teh Disney Ducks would instantly go “Oh shit there she is”. So fans would now have the expectation of a main antagonist.. but would be instantly supscious of Lunaris and Penumbra if there wasn’t one for the first third of a season it took to them, and it’d leave a gap in the story to not have someone driving the plot on earth.

So Flinty got an upgrade.. a slight one and we’ll talk about the eb and flow. And thus he got a proper origin. Now granted they could’ve planned this too, but this one’s harder to tell as the curse you me gag could’ve been a clever setup or could’ve just been a one off gag they somehow turned into an entire episode. So Flinty got an arc.. and a comedic foil, the other reason this was inevieble, and Kev’s faviorite character, Zan Owlson. So how did it work out for them? Well we’ll begin that journey under the cut.

We begin our story a few months ago.... on every level really: the months ago shadow war aired when this episode originally good, the months ago I reviwed Shadow War (which via counting I found out was my 200th episode not counting Patreon. Nice), and most importantly for this story, the four months ago before the present day of Season 2.

Glomgold saying curse you me as he fell into the bay during the Shadow War.... only for once in his life he dosen’t somehow get out of it unscathed and instead passes out, almost drowning. He’s found by Fisher and Mann, two fisherpersons... Mann is specific about that due to being a woman despite the obvious irony. It’s a good gag. Flinty acts like he normally would.. hostile, demanding that they know who he is.. and while they don’t.. neither does he.

Cue credits and cue present day. Via a newscast with Roxanne we learn what I mentioned earlier: It’s been four month and Glomgold’s been missing. The general mood.. has been about what you’d expect.

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Yeah Roxanne turned on him real fast. I genuinely wouldn’t be surprised if it was because he later openly bragged about stealing scrooge’s money during the shark thing on live tv at some point, making Roxanne look terrible for enabling him and for blatantly supporting him earlier. I mean.. how else do you get a corrupt journalist to do anything decent.

But with Glomgold gone SOMEONE’S gotta replace him.. and that someone is Zan Motherfucking Owlson. Top of her class at Mouseton Univesity, Owlson is the show once again updating things: previously they added Mark Beaks to the Rogue’s Gallery as he contrasts the 50′s (scrooge ) and 80′s (glomgold) idea of billionares from previous versions of the property being a modern tech weasel. Though instead of just one thing Owlson represents a few: The most obvious is she’s a woman of color: Having a black woman in such a high position of power is something disney would’ve outright vetoed in the 50′s and 80′s. Here it’s well accepted as it always should have been. It also feels like a delebrate move on Frank’s part: There weren't’ any major african or african american coded characters in season 1, despite the show being very open and accepting, so that needed to change. The other is frankly outside of Brigtaa MacBridge, whose also weirdly absent from this series for some reason and has taken Fethry and Rockerduck’s place as the most major overseas duck character to never get adapted, there are hardly ever any females on Scrooge and his richer foes level. He’s had the occasional female rival or suitor, but only Brigittta had staying power and while I love the idea of her, another person as rich as scrooge whose willing to spend more and has a crush on him, she badly needed an update as she’s essentially Adventure Era Amy Rose in a grown ass woman’s body.

Owlson also provides a diffrent dynamic in that she portrays the ideal of what we’d want from a ceo: She’s honest, works hard, earned her way as square as scrooge did, gladly donates to charity and is extremely charismatic and intelligent. Granted most CEO”s are nothing like this but still, she’s what we WANT them to be. Using the money not for themselves or taking big paychecks but to help people. She also provides something Glomgold needed: a straight man. While he has one in Scrooge at times, Owlson unlike both of them is a fully functional resonable human being. Scrooge, while a good person deep down, can be reckless, impulsive and greedy, and Glomgold had a tarzan like experince with sharks, goes on to name his dummy son sharkbomb, and tried to murder Scrooge on live television twice that we know of. She’s the calm, snarky, put upon sane person trying to reign in the crazy shark explosion man.

Owlson dosen’t get a ton to do here, but that will change and she does get a decent amout in the final scene. But what she does here establishes who she is and how sh’es FIXED Glomgold industries; She’s shut down the vast number of money sinking scheme related departments, set ups everal charities, and is even setting up a new one with Scrooge, Dimes for Ducklings. In short she knew exactly what was needed to fix the company and it’s image and did so in FOUR MONTHS. Probably even less given they had to be sure Glomgold wasn’t coming back right away. I guarantee he’s faked his death like 10 times just to try and kill scrooge. They have to make sure it’s real first. As one last note before we move on, Owlson is played by Natasha Rothwell, a producer and writer who i’ve only seen outside of this in Love, Simon and Sonic the Hedgehog.. that is a weird combo of things that mean a LOT to me I haven’t been able to bring up here again.

We find the tv this was all playing on on the docks with a non-anthro segull pecking it while a bunch of fisherpersons go about their day. We also get this guy.

Add him to the list of spinoffs I want THE LIST OF SPINOFFS JAKE WANTS: 1. Darkwing Duck 2. Donald, Daisy and the Kids 3. The Sabrewings 4. Tailspin Reboot 5. The Flintheart Glomgold Show 6. A Sequel Movie 7. This Guy Punching A Fucking Fish

So you might be wondering when any of our main cast are going to show up.. and why the fish puncher isn’t in said main cast. Well that’s about now as Webby and Louie are fishing. Well okay more acuratley webby is fishing because she genuinely enjoys it and Louie is tagging along so he can nap on a boat while Webby paddles him around. That plan is threatnned by her spear fishing and he suggests using rods instead, but they need bait for that.

Naturally, given we need to get this plot going our heroes run into Duke Baloney, aka an amnesiac Glomgold. Understandably, both of htem think this is some sort of scheme at first because waiting for someone related to Scrooge to stroll by his fish stand for some sort of shark themed trap, especially since he’s right near the water so he dosen’t have to worry about keeping them hydrated like that time he dropped one from a plane onto scrooge’s board meeting with two chainsaws strapped to it. But .. it’s not. While we the audience saw him amnesiac, and at first I thought that spoiled the episode... it really dosen’t. He still ACTS like himself on instinct, so your not sure if he faked it as part of some elaborate scheme or is really gone till this scene shows that, no he really isn’t there. And the how is simply in knowing the guy: Glomgold is not good at subtley. He has disguises and such, but their never remotely convincing. He could NEVER pull off actually being a humble fish monger nor have gone four fucking months without yelling at scrooge or remotely contacting him. There’s also the fact Fisher and Mann 100% belivie in duke and back up his very real story of being dredged out of the bay. There’s also his south african accent, which actors including David Tennant himself have admitted is one of the hardest to pull off but Keith does swimingly, which is a hint.. but only on rewatch or for those who know his comics origins.

Louie isn’t convinced which is fair: even if Glomgold isn’t good at this sort of thing, he’s still tried it a lot. Webby however correctly figures he has amensia. So the two simply try talking to him. Fisher and Mann do get a bit dickish laughing off the idea he’s possibly Glomgold.. despite the fact you know you dredged him out of the fucking water 4 months ago.. and if you actually looked at the news, would see Glomgold disappeared around the exact same time you found Duke. It just annoys me because otherwise these two are great characters: Friendly loveable fisherpersons who love their job, have no comeptiviness and genuinely want to help their friend duke. The encounter does have them seeing a fancy money clip Duke has but with no other options they leave for now.

But while Duke has forgotten who he was... bits of glomgold still stir within him. And that starts when Duke spots the McDuck Industries fishing boat, the best fishing boat on the sea, something his friends are okay with.. but Duke naturally isn’t. So while Duke was a calm sane fisherman before the true glomgold in him is on full display as he comes up with insane schemes involving fish and explosives, before presenting a rather insane scheme to his friends involving getting engineering degrees and other stuff.. it’s as poorly drawn and wonderful as you expect from him. But what’s telling is that he reigns it in when his friends show obvious concern with his actions... something Glomgold would NEVER do. For one he dosen’t have friends. For another, he doesn’t care about anyone else’s feelings or thoughts.

By now Webby is also championing that Duke is a diffrente person.. which is true. Duke is Glomgold stripped of his hate and resitment towards scrooge. He’s who the man COULD’VE been had he not sworn eternal vengeance on Scrooge. Louie is doubtful that he’s amnesiac still.. but neither can quite figure out the full story so it’s time for research.. and for Webby to accidentally knock Louie into some lobster traps.. which given he’s spent the entire episode assuming an amnesiac man isn’t that despite all the evidence to the contrary, he earned that. That said these two were the perfect choice for it: All of the boys have a bit of skeptic in them, and we already had a plot with Huey being skeptical.. and even he would’ve given up by now as would dewey since he only has a pinch at best. Webby.. has none. She can question motives and stuff sure, but at her heart she’s a kind forgiving soul who belives the best in everyone. And.. its’ paid off fo rher. Look at the whole Lena situation, she believed in her, even while Lena was actively manipulating her,.. and it truly changed her, convinced Lena to do the right thing despite the cost, to choose love over the abusive monster who made her. It’s the only missed opportunity in the episode for me. Character wise it has exactly the 8 it needs to tell the story and focuses heavly on the five it truly is about. But not having Webby bring up Lena when we don’t hear her mentoined AT ALL during her absence (though to the shows credit they did a good job showing Webby still had never remotely given up), and it made the wait more agonizing and would’ve made her motivations hit even harder: that she belives in duke because she believed in lena and it was real. And while this thank christ isn’t remotely romantic, the point does stand: She wants to see the best.

Louie is a conman by nature so he only sees the worst, the weakest in people, the things he can use to take htem down or take hteir money. He can’t fathom someone doing good because he can’t fathom HIMSELF being good. And that.. says a lot.. but he’s accepted himself as a shady conperson who cares only for himself.. even if that’s not the truth. His inclusion here enhances his own arc much like Huey’s role in quack pack enhanced his. It shows that deep down Louie dosen’t think much of anyone.. and probably not himself. That he has to be shady and greedy to survive when that’s not tru. Sharper than the sharpies yes but also square.

One last bit before we moved on I just found out though: The Crew originally had this as a straight up origin story: no kids, none of the rest of the duck family, except presumably Scrooge’s parts here, just Glomgold’s struggle with amensia and his past leading to who hei s now. Honestly I think that version could’ve worked, but likely given disney seems TERRIFIED of making a show starring an adult without a chlid and had to be talked into the child light Golden Lagoon, that was a non starter but I think it still works fine. I also foudn this out via a twitter thread of Frank’s rewriting history that goes in deep on teh production of each episode. Had I known this existed before writing this one, I would’ve used it for the other two arcs and most dangerous game night, but I intend to read through it so I have everything on the table from here on out.

For only the second time in her long career of researching stuff though, Webby has hit a dead end. Mostly because she couldn’t find anything on Duke.. and NOTHING on Glomgold’s past pre-Duckburg. The most she has is his visa...

I want to frame this on my wall.. and someone is actually seling id cards out there, so I want this one at some point. It’s not Disney because they don’t care about fan merch like this, but then that just means they don’t get the money because they didn’t think of it or put the work in then huh.

But yeah with nothing else our heroes go to the only person they know who knows him well... Scrooge.

Meanwhile Duke has .. this... I just.....I can’t put words to this truly bizzare surreal dream sequence.. it involves Glomgold going insane, the kids dancing on a bagpipe, and owlson is there.. despite the fact that Glomgold should have zero idea whot hat is. I think the kids mentioned here but even then, he somehow knows exactly what she looks like.

Otherwise good stuff and it’s raining hard as Duke goes in. Fisher and Mann have formally added him to their sign, and warmly welcomed him in and Duke says “this is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me I think” which is probably true. and makes what’s coming all the more heartbreaking.

But before what’s coming Duke has another thing coming.. Scrooge who the kids brought to talk to him. The two talk casually, the kids watch not knowing.. and then Scrooge comes back to them. Turns out Webby was, unsurprisingly right on the money, Flinty does have amnesia, and unlike what Louie thought.. he isn’t inherently evil. Duke is just duke.. and Scrooge has no intention of fixing the amnesia. And while that SOUNDS bad.. his intentions are noble: Glomgold.. was a throughly miserable person. He was never happy and never would be till Scrooge was dead by his hand and that was never going to happen. It isn’t even taking an enemy off the board: Flinty is only a threat on occasion. Scrooge clearly ENJOYS their conflict: it may annoy him from time to time, but he clearly enjoys upstaging the guy. And as he points out, it’s not a brain injury or anything: Glomgold is practically immortal as Louie put earlier, and Scrooge outright mentions Glomgold’s taken a LOT of explosions to the face. So he’s in no real danger physically or emotionally.. he’s happy. He has friends, a calling he truly enjoys. There’s another reason too but we’ll see that in the final scene.

So Duke is finally happy... but it doesn’t last... the kids go out but a storms a coming, and Duke selfleslly heads out to save them.. only to get hit on the head and fall in the ocean again.

It’s here we get the 2017 version of Glomgold’s origin story. We did kinda get one with life and times, as we saw his first meeting with scrooge and why he hated him, long story short with the long story coming later this week Glomgold left Scrooge for dead and Scrooge’s response was to come back, kick the fuckers ass, tar and feather him and utterly humilaite him, leading to Flinty swearing vengance.

But while I love that version..t his one is just as awesome if not better. And it’s without having Scrooge ride a lion. Here we instead meet Flinty as a child Scrooge’s age... and as a shoeshine boy. Yup just like Scrooge Duke, Glomgold’s birth name, was an industrious young boy with big dreams. He also had unwieldy schemes from minute one, but Scrooge saw in this lad the same fire he had and tried replicating his own origin.

The problem was... the different context ruined it. Scrooge was paid by an equally poor ditchdigger the us equilvent of his pay: still useless in scotland, but a good lesson in hard work and not being swindled. Scrooge tried that... as the richest duck in the world and without giving flinty the same amount of money.

So Duke/Flinty took umbrage at this yelled at scrooge.. and pick pocketed his money clip. In the only bit taken from the rosa version of their first meeting, Scrooge never realized he’d met flinty already. There and then duke came up with his first true, and first insane scheme: Save the money and use it to mold himself into a richer, more scottish version of scrooge dedicating his life to one upping him and killing him. A “single white female” type thing as Frank put it.

It’s.. utterly brilliant... taking Glomgold being a knockoff as mention and just running with that... making Glomgold a LITERAL knockoff. This was indeed the plan all along: A way to have him be both south african and scottish and it was brilliant. It also gives him more depth and more tragedy: He COULD’VE been the next scrooge.. but instead of being his own man or learning any of the hard lessons scrooge did he doubled down on never learning anything and getting vengeance on an old man’s well meant but accidently classist gesture.

So Glomgold reawakens and while it first looks like he’s going to save the kids... he instead throws Webby into the raging sea, and steals their fish. Webby is heartbroken and Louie asks him “what about duke.” His response is heartbreaking as it is character defnting

“I”m Flintheart Glomgold and I always will be!” the lightning shot, the cackle..i t’s just such a damn good moment that underscores the tragedy of the episode as Glomgold’s new friends are horrified by what he is now and what he was always meant to be and Glomgold leaves to go stalk scrooge once again. He indeed is Flintheart Glomgold and always will be.. because he threw the decent person he could’ve been away. He’s miserable.. because he can’t let go of his rage or ego and just move on from something that happened to him when he was ten! He has to be in his 60′s now! Glomgold may think Scrooge is his worst enemy.. but it’s really Flintheart Glomgold.... and it always will be.

So naturally his first actoin is to storm into his company and scream at scrooge. How he found him there... honestly not a huge suprise it’s his company and he likely knows how to find scrooge anywhere because he’s a creep like that. Scrooge and Owlson’s reactions are both worth a look at:

Given Glomgold bursts into an already annoying meeting of Scrooge trying to get the dimes part knocked down to nickles (and likely lower before that given he mentioned Pennies earlier), to accuse Scrooge of trying to trick him by appearing as a boat in his dreams her bafflement is both understandable and hilarious. Like she probably HEARD what Glomgold was like but gennuinely didn’t belivie it and her face is just now frozen in a look of “oh my god they were not exagearating what fresh hell is this”.

She tries to be professional and introduce herself but he just brushes her off and yells at Scrooge blaming him for being forgotten (”You literally forgot yourself), with Owlson also considering calling security. She only dosen’t because Scrooge points out he’ll tire himself out eventually and as usual for their jousts, is not remotely threatened or worried. He’s just..sad. And getting back to his reaction.. that’s what’s telling about his plan. He probably KNEW this would happen. He in his heart knew Duke Balloney would be gone soon, and he’d have to deal with Glomgold again. It helps soften the implicatoins: it wouldn’t last and fraknly if it did Scrooge would probably have people check on him regualry to make sure he was okay. He’s not a monster.. he just wanted Flinty to be happy for five minutes and to not ruin that out of some misplaced sense of right and wrong.. when the right thing was to simply let the man be happy till it inevitably blew up.

Glomgold however, furious at being forgotten and cast aside has decided to take a huge poorly thought through gamble and challenges scrooge to a classic Scrooge comics trope between the two, but with higher stakes: A contest to see who will be the richest duck in the world by the end of the year.. and given Christmas happens right after this i’m just assuming he means a year from now. Winner gets both companies and fortunes. Scrooge scoffs at this.. till Flinty pulls out the clip, taunting him with how he did it and “If I can beat you once scrooge i’ll beat you again”. And this, Flinty revealing he stole from him and he NEVER KNEW it or realize it, enrages scrooge enough to agree and to take him seriously... meanwhile Owlson.. just tries to get actual work shit done and just forges their signatures. Look she is a woman of color in the business world with genuinely good motives... she’s probably used to using white nonsense to get things past two idiots having a peeing race.

Final Thoughts:

This episode is truly excellent and like Most Dangerous Game Night! i’d forgottne just HOW good it was. The pacing, the comedy, and the character work is all on full blast and i’ve gushed plenty enough about how great an origin story is. it’s a character piece that explains why this doofus is the way he is and that is what holds him back.

Next time on MMM: Louie’s back as he pulls a ghostbusters to make quick money and Storkules starts rooming with Donald with predictable results.

If you liked this review consider joining my patreon and i’ll see you at the next rainbow.

#ducktales #flintheart glomgold #scrooge mcduck #the ballad of duke balloney #webby vanderquack #louie duck #fisher #mann #fishing #weblena #disney plus #disney xd #disney channel

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pertinax--loculos · 3 years

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Weekly Update

Currently Writing Absent That Night (tagged: WIP: ATN)

wordcount this week: 6,839

total wordcount: 30,126

seriously considering giving myself a deadline on this, just to see what happens. I imagine with my tendency to overwrite + fantasy=worldbuilding, I'm looking at about a 150k draft. Tentatively thinking end of September 'deadline' (mayhaps October NaNo prep? for the next idea which I already have ugh). Will make a proper post about this sometime this week, maybe.

highlight: Latrell, flailing: YOU ARE A CrImInAl!! Nox: I steal only from the rich and use every cent I have left over after [redacted] to a) survive and b) help disadvantaged populations in this cesspool of a city Nox: I'm basically fuckin Robin Hood

my brain is cranking overtime on plot -- finally nailed down the third murder victim/midpoint twist, figured out how it plays into the Murderer's overall goal, and have scenes planned up to the catalyst. Next week is ideas for fun and games win/loss cycle, clues and red herrings and all that jazz

my first (main?) job is fortunately very cruisy in that the boss will only yell at me if I'm scribbling notes for, like, a full hour. Managed to get a fair whack of scene ideas/planning done there this week. My second job (!!) is gonna be pretty braindead but is for a large company, a situation in which I've never worked (only family owned businesses til now!). So although I'll have time to think, I'm a little wary about how it'll go without me being able to write it down immediately. We'll see how I go

very happy with how it's coming along despite the fact it's taken me 30k to reach the catalyst and I'm genuinely unsure if it's because I have a proper end point/scene I'm working towards. That will definitely need thinking on if I manage to keep up the momentum over the next couple of months and actually finish the damned draft, so it's something to file away

haven't written as much as I would've liked over the last few days, as I've been distracted by Crafting and also, just, being insane. Gonna try and get into a bit more of a rhythm again this week. Still written lots of notes that I don't count in the wordcount! So not all bad

Currently Reading The Raven King by Maggie Stiefvater, book three of the Raven Cycle

I don't know if it's just me but I feel like the voice in this one has changed...? Or maybe I'm just not concentrating as much as I had been

still enjoying it! Though looking forward to getting to the end and getting back into thrillers

I quite like the way introspection is done, because it feels seamless yet still gives you a lot of info about the characters. Also the kisses! Going back to book two as well, I enjoy the way Stiefvater doesn't necessarily describe the physical act but instead does it through feelings. Very impressive, note taken

about 50% through I think? So should be finishing it up this week

Real Life

my state is now in a statewide lockdown. It's not awful cuz I can get money and I spend a lot of time in my room anyway, but I'm paranoid about my first shift at my new (essential) job and also I'm stuck in a house with the Bitch for (at least) seven days ughghgh

but! New job! New excellent job that will help with finances and next year and fits my schedule and, just, wow, so thankful

naturally I'm paranoid it's all gonna change/it's a joke/mistake. I just wanna get the first shift over with tomorrow please I hope it's gonna be okay

health kick is ongoing. Challenge this week is to not lose momentum through lockdown, and also not eat everything in reach just because I'm bored

Excerpt

feat. Latrell being a pain in the ass and thinking he knows everything (spoiler: this bites him in the ass hard):

Latrell subsided, nodding a little. He still wasn't happy, but this wasn't his operation. He and Albie were just along for the ride, extra manpower in case something went down, proximity in case they got lucky and could learn something about Nox. Not ideal, but as good as he was going to get.

Albie gave him an exasperated look as Turner finally continued outlining the operation. Latrell sipped his coffee, not reacting, steadfastly avoiding her gaze.

"You," Albie said, quietly enough that Latrell had to strain to hear her beneath Turner's drone, "Are the absolute worst."

Latrell kept his eyes straight ahead still, but this time, he smirked.

#pockets muses IRL #weeking writing update #or just weekly update i guess #given it's just me blathering #still!#may still add words tonight #but have not done so yet #so alas #they are not counted

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kanene-yaaay-o-retorno · 4 years

Text

The Colors of my Soul(mates) [1]

[Second oneshot]

[AO3 link]

Kanene’s Notes:

Nope, I do not regret the pun. Okay, okay! I’ve plaining this AU for almost an year so I’m pretty excited to post it!! dfghjsdfrtyucfvgbhjv yaaaay!! Thank you very very much @olliedollie1204 for such a positive feedback and awesome ideas. it helped me a lot!!

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That fanfic has Virgil, Logan, Patton and Roman (only a brief mention of Remy) in a platonic relationship (yet), but it can be viewed as romantic, if you wish.

* Warnings: A bit of swearing and depreciative thoughts. It’s mostly fluff and hurt/comfort, tho.

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to the amazing Thomas Sanders in his series of Sanders Sides.

* Something around 4.500 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Tô com preguiça de postar a versão em português brasileiro aaaa! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Say to someone important how much you love them, be safe, talk with the one that you love, drink water and sleep well! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

What can do a creature if not, between creatures, love? - Carlos Drummond de Andrade

- What the fu-

Virgil only discovered he had more than one Soulmate when he was twenty years old, more specifically the exact moment he took a wrong turn and kept going even knowing he was in the wrong way because one hour it would lead him to somewhere Virgil would recognize before his mortal being inevitably starved to death in the middle of nowhere and his eyes got dragged from the visions from thousands of futures created by his mind to a Teddy Bear Store - they seemed to replicate worse than bacteria during Valentine’s Day - and two bears from the crimson shelter suddenly dyed themselves in two milliseconds as he slightly glanced at them.

Two of them. Virgil felt his entire face burn in hot shades of embarrassment with drops of disbelief, almost as if all the people running, stumbling, locked in their own worlds and swearing while walked in the sideway because ‘some stupid teenager decided to just stop and block their way’ could, by only looking at him, stare deep into his soul and realize the one staring astonished the store already carried in his fate another one more Soulmate at home.

One completely different in shape and form, even if also blue, however in a light, sky blue completely opposite shade from the new navy one staring him down - Virgil knew plentily their link wasn’t bonded yet, albeit he was equally sure that the person behind those black glooming teddy bear’s eyes were already judging him, - wondering why, between all the people, he was their soulmate. The other red one was very much likely crackling in his face when an employee came and pointedly turn the adult’s attention to the sign in big, graphed words clued in front of their store:

“You dye, you buy.”

Virgil signed, pushing his hoodie down further, wondering how much time it would take of him hitting his head on the wall to finally pass out. This option sounded much more attractive when he realized that this new ‘discovery’ about himself would cost all his month’s saves.

He asked, to the Universe, the stars, the Earth and whoever was seeing him in that exact moment: why?

Was it a kind of prank? A punishment from fate when, years and tears ago, Virgil lifted his chin up and dared the Universe to give him more soulmates as he locked all his uncolored – although never really free of some weak drops of paint from what one day they came to be – simply stuffed animals, - and nothing more, anymore, - away and promised he would never, ever allow himself to go all through this shit again?

But… That had been… years ago. Almost a decade since that soft voice he got to know so well, the impulsive acts, long conversations and warm feelings.

But…

Time has passed, that is true. Nevertheless, deep down has he really changed?

Virgil stared at the bag carried so close to his chest since his bare hands were sweating and shaking way too much for this task. Yes, he knew his Soulmates won’t feel anything until both of them decided to ‘give the First Step’, accepting to link their souls and fates, for the longest as it lasts. However, he didn’t want to risk it, because what if they felt? What if he in some way broke the Soulmate System when got two at the same time and now everything was messed up and they could already feel his touches even through the bag and the first impression Virgil would gave to them was ‘That anxious, weird boy and his creepy, sweaty hands’ and-

A girl almost hit him as she passed running at his side, making his arms protectively hug further the teddy bears closer to him, arms protectively involving them, the soft touch somehow calming his tumulted thoughts. The lost man took a deep breath.

Clear your mind. Rational thoughts. Focus on the two sides of the coin. Three people wouldn’t be able to break a millennial, unknown system, don’t matter how good he was in screwin… No, a voice that sounded suspiciously a lot like his psychologist calmly pointed, not like that. Virgil huffed, trying again. He was a magnet of problems and bad…Okay, also wrong. Neutral thoughts, focus on neutral thoughts. Come on. Come on.

It was okay.

They wouldn’t feel him until they gave the first step. Right, that… sounded like a start. He didn’t do anything. Now, what Virgil needed to do was go to his house, clean his bed in order to find a good place where he could put and ignore them and then he would get his headphones, listen his playlists and wonder where the fuck his life was going.

It was okay. Everything would stay okay as long as he didn’t give the First Step.

Virgil unconsciously hugged tighter the teddy bears, his fingers finding way and drowning themselves in the soft, cozy fur, combing them in light, soothing touches as he continued his way.

Okay. Everything was okay.

[~*~]

Plurinfanto, or Multiple Souls, it’s the nomination used for the cases when a person has diverse soulmates at the same time and in a same period.

The first known case was with Pharaoh Cleopatra when multiples of her woolen fabric started to dye themselves in various colors and shades. In Ancient Roman, it was believed that the occurrences were blessings from Venus in a sign of prosperity and abundance. Grand, longstanding parties were executed through days nonstop in order to get together those intertwined souls. When the connection broke and the colors disappeared, it meant that days of pain and foreboding were waiting forward.

It is not known for certain the exact moment when the meaning changed, albeit researchers believe it was around the fall of the Roman Empire, when all the invasions resulted in a cultural reconstruction which led to the loss from much of their costumes.

CLICK HERE TO DISCOVER HOW TO HAVE THE SOULMATE OF YOUR DREAMS!!!!

[~*~]

The computer made a soft ‘click’ as Virgil closed it and sat on his bed, adjusting slightly his position to stare the three vivid, brilliant stuffed beings contrasting to the general dark theme of his room.

Virgil growled, resting his back on the cold wall, the shivers calming his flowing thoughts about all the variants this whole thing had. No to mention that people change with time, leading to the souls who they “relate” to change as well, meaning that you can have someone in your life for years and then, one month, or weeks or the next day, you can wake up only to discover you and the said person don’t “match” anymore.

And NO ONE talked about this just because it was a freak tabu to doesn’t have ‘an only one soulmate who will be with you until the end of your existence’. Oh, for fuck sake. Virgil ran his hand through his hair, wincing when he accidently pulled some tangled strands. That sounds like a line of commercial, does anyone believe that bullshit for real?

“Hello dear, newer fellow!!” The popping thought broke his line of reasoning, jumping excitedly in his mind and automatically pulling him out of his wanders. It has a strong and full of… about everything, tune demanding attention. Virgil felt a warm kiss on his forehead, meaning one soulmate – a deep part of him turned his attention to the red colored teddy bear, - had given the First Step. The one who in some moment changed his position so now he was sitting on the floor felt his face get hot again, heart thumping strongly in his chest as his arm moved, fingers stopping inches away from the fur, questioning if he was ready to retribute the gesture.

[~*~]

Many history icons have reports of being Pluriers, as shown in the book ‘The Romance in the History of Those Who Wrote It’, by historian Henry Senyura. The subject is also beginning to gain more visibility after the protest from the teacher Joan A. in 2010, who got touched towards the situation of some of her pupils being forced to choose only one among their Soulmates for the six-month annual exchange, by the end of that period most of them lost or weakened their bonding due lack of communication, small changes of personality and continuous absence. She held a protest at the front of the school, stating that no one had the right to interfere in ‘matters of the heart’.

A lot of fiction works are beginning to address the topic more frequently, as in I’m Not One, a movie directed by Devon Stan; The Seven Colors of Rainbow, a book written by Lílian Lee and the psychological analysis Life’s Watch, recently found between drafts by the famous writer Robin Green, published after their husband’s authorization, Josué Green.

[~*~]

Logan hummed. As it seems, this was a relatively common thing, since the concept of Soul Mates surpassed the barriers of unity and time, being ‘souls who in a way or other intertwined themselves in some part of their life. Sometimes it didn’t necessarily mean a romantic relationship, as the majority of society and media pointed, but it also didn’t hold any assurance that all of them were platonic.

He massaged the bridge of his nose. Remy wasn’t in the dorm so everything was silent enough for him to hear his own thoughts.

It has been a remarkable amount of years since he got his last soulmates, - except for Remy, however they both considered this occurrence as a separate incident - well, until, of course, this day. At least it was a good thing he always carried in his bag extra easy manageable stuffed animals or else maybe the System would dye one of clothes, what would be less than ideal for him in the middle of his philosophy debate. But things got even more interesting when, after his classes, as he arrived at the small, pleasantly well-organized store next to his university, one more stuffed animal colored itself right before him.

He didn’t exactly understand why. Logan considered himself an owner of a… quite strong, strict personality, this added with his difficulty in managing his and one another emotions usually tended to bring some complex tribulations in his rela-

Anyway, that is beside the important matter. The one laying his chin on his crossed fingers undid his pose for a bite of time in order to adjust his glasses, barely fixating his gaze on the two plushies in the desk before him, his third – Pat - resting a few centimeters away, closer to Logan’s fingers, who were barely touching. Mind running. Asking, reflecting, wondering what was the exact amount of time to be acceptable to give his First Step?

‘The First Step’.

Logan never really understood from where and how that expression emerged. It didn’t come from the words’ etymology nor some semantic detour. His most concrete hypothesis consisted of the phrase being derived from old romances.

“Did you know it used to be called the ‘First Kiss’?! But that confused a lot of people who really believed that, to be able to talk and interact with their soulmates they would have to kiss each other, like the Sleeping Beauty! I always got confused in this movie when I was a child, by the way! That ended up messing with a bunch of relationships before they even started, since a lot of peeps don’t feel comfortable enough with strangers kissing them. However, they also speeded up a bunch of them as well…” Logan blinked, his attention escaping from his previous thoughts to the light sky blue plushie of Baby Yoda, for a moment surprised with the sudden input. He felt fingers carefully holding his arms and a bit of ghost movements as Pat probably moved his representation to somewhere else, a hug and warmth engulfing the one yet absolving the new information moments later.

“That was… enlightening.” His voice danced across the room. Even though he was completely aware they could chat telepathically, the childish act of saying the words out loud still comforted him, in a way. “Thank you for your contribution.”

He took a deep breath and closed the tab of research on his cellphone, internally thanking from the escaping of his turmoil of thoughts, his free hand carefully combing the Baby Yoda’s head fur, almost methodic.

“Looo, no!” The other protested with no heat in his tune, leading a toothless smile to resurface in Logan’s features. “Stop doing this. You know I end up sleeping every time!”

“Oh no, what a tragedy.” He deadpanned, already plugging his phones and changing to a most relaxed position on his chair, his eyes traveling across the countless movies on the device before him. “In which episode did we stop?”

“I’m going to fight you.” Pat sounded like he was pouting.

“How so?” Logan asked, trying to hide his amusement.

Silence followed his words.

“Pat?”

“What is the skeleton’s favorite instrument?”

“Pat, don’t you fucking da-”

“Language! It’s a xiloBONE!”

Logan audible growled, fast in his final decision. “I’m going to drop you out the window.”

“I’m going to hug you!” And immediately the one rolling his eyes felt himself being squished in a strong bear hug, huffing only half annoyed.

“You are an incorrigible heathen, let me go in this exact instant.” His answer was a ‘butterfly kiss’ – as Pat was fond in calling them – on his forehead. “Urg, affection.” Yet he smiled and mirrored the act, lightly poking the other’s side.

“We’re on episode 19.”

[~*~]

Roman stared the paper, his pencil’s tip stopped in the middle of the biggest petal’s flower, his eyes narrowing in the hope of a clearest way of how to convert the vague idea he had in transforming the night full of stars in a flower. No to tell he also would need to choose a good pallet of colors indication for it, later, and probably re-do all the process over and over and over until got the best result as possible. A yawn found its way from his lips and the designer stretched, getting up to drink a bit of water and rubbing his eyes, wondering if it was really worth it to make a black tea to help him through the night.

A glimpse of color caught his attention. The navy blue teddy bear on his couch, the main inspiration of his newest tattoo. Roman wondered why it wasn’t resting in front of him while he drew. A corner of his brain, obscured by the tiredness, telling he had a previous good reason for this choice although his actual self carried absolutely no idea of why.

Well, if he couldn’t remember it, it means the reason wasn’t THAT good, right?

Roman held the stuffed animal, spinning with it across the room for a couple of minutes, imagining who would be the person behind it. A king, a queen, a non-binary royalty? Did they like Disney? Musicals? Sing? Would they chat for hours at first with a few words exchanged or would they take a bit to warm at each other? Was navy blue their favorite color or…

Or…

Navy blue.

Oh.

He fixed his glare on the plushie, his hands feeling and slowly drawing in the soft fur of it.

Navy blue, huh? A humorless chuckled flew in the air. It could have no significance, it could be a world of it. It probably didn’t mean what he, for a moment, a so silly, stupid moment, wished it meant. Of course, one day this would happen, right? It was something normal, something expected. Not the magical, right out of the story books or his old daydreams, occurrence.

This wasn’t a second chance. The Universe doesn’t give you second chances. He wasn’t the same boy from eleven years ago, holding his own costumed teddy bear crying his eyes out, hugging he – No, it – the closest as possible, wishing with all his heart and soul for the color, the voice, the thoughts, the rambling, their bickering, the forgiveness to come back again.

No, he grew up. He moved on. He got better.

Then why did a part of him still felt this way? Like he was about to hear the excited giggles, the soft reprimand, that lovely, deep and so truly -and sometimes boring, Roman had to admit – questions? Why would a part of him still say that he could have it all again if he just… waited long enough, hoped high enough, dreamed long enough…

…If he was enough.

There aren’t more than seven billion colors in the world. Roman would be stupid if he really believed there was a path where he wouldn’t stumble in that so (un)fortunate well-known shade of blue again.

Roman growled, his forehead making a loud, dry thumping sound as hit his desk. The one who should be asleep hours ago had absolutely no energy to battle against those thoughts, again. At least for now. He rubbed his eyes and stared at the teddy bear laid on the cold tabletop before him. Well, what a better way to get rid of your own means thoughts than put some stranger’s unpredictable thoughts in the middle of it? Roman slightly pushed the bunch of flowers and some warmup sketches he had out of the way, carefully carrying the representation next to him, nodding. Honestly, that was the best idea he had for a while, why did he even put the lovely thing away?

Awake Roman was so silly, thinking that… something he couldn’t quite recall right now would be a bad idea, he pointed as snorted softly, pressing his lips on the teddy’s forehead, the quote he knew by heart flying from them in a natural flow.

“It is not immortal, since it’s flame. But let it be infinite while it lasts.”

A warm sensation rested on his own forehead moments later, leading the sleepy form to hum happily.

“Is it… poetry?” Oh shit, Roman widened his eyes. His soulmate heard that?? Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Roman mentally facepalmed himself. So that was why he usually said it before the First Step!

“Uhh, yeah. Of course. Fidelity Sonnet by Vinícius Moraes.”

“I see. Classicism, I presume. A literature of very soundly pleasant rhymes, indeed. The first sonnet was probably created by the humanist Italian poet Francesco Petrarca, although it got even more known in the western literature after the works of Camões, who- ”

“He is from Modernism, actually.” Roman didn’t know why he suddenly sounded so defensive. Logan felt a cold feeling run his body when the other’s hands let go of him, for a piece of second wondering if it was supposed for him to do the same with the red narwhal plushie on his hold.

“A very common mistake to make due the lack of context.” He retorted, unable to formulate another answer. He had, of course, thought, balanced options and chosen the best topics to discuss with his new soulmates when they bonded. However, his fingers firmly gripped the pen, its tip tapping on the first topic written in the notebook partially forgotten in front of him, the poetry figuratively threw him out of his tracks, leading the decision to be the most impartial as possible due his… not so impartial past memories with that specific shade of red an even more difficult task than it already was.

“Yes. Sure. Sorry, I- I’m just… very tired right now.”

“You should go sleep, then.”

The other snorted with the direct, immediate response. “I should, shouldn’t I? Gotta work, though.”

Some part of Logan’s brain registered the new fact, separating and keeping it in a special place so he would remember to write it down in the new folder he bought, later.

“I see.” … poetry? That wasn’t a hard topic to talk about. The one now nervously cleaning the very clear lenses twisted his mouth. He could talk about this for hours. No, correction: he already had previously talked about this for hours non stop.

Logan strangely felt the urge to rub his face and scream. It has been years, - eleven years and 10 months to be precise – and exactly eight years since the one wearing glasses learned poetry because of him. Because of his constant habit of reciting Shakespeare before they would go to bed, until Logan brought himself to research and decorate all the poems he could muster, taking the task to now wake Prince – the name still carried a strong taste in his tongue – in the same way every single day. Before they realize, that becomes something between them. There were times when both didn’t talk, content in only reciting some verses and hear the other complete them. A part of Logan, that illogical and unfortunately full of feelings one wondered how their rap battles would be if they found each other right now.

Did Prince even maintain his liking the same things he one day did? Does he still recite poetry? Does he maintain the same dreams? The same habits? Does he even remember about him?

Highly improbable.

“You can call me Lo.”

Roman slowly blinked, getting out the fog surrounding his brain to realize he was mindless staring at the pan’s boiling water, surprised the other still there. Well, it seems like he hasn't screwed terribly everything yet.

“Lo? Like Lowrance?”

“Even though my name does contain ‘Lo’ in it, no. It’s ‘Lo’ like Logic. I came to believe it’s a good idea the nomination after a predominant characteristic, since we can’t actively exchange our real names through the Soulmate System.”

Roman’s breath hitched, a memory with yellow-ish edges and nostalgic smell unrolling in front of him.

…

‘I think we should choose you a name with more personality in it, ya know?’ He threw himself on his bed, kicking his legs on the air before immediately scoping the plushie and laying it on his stomach. ‘Like a characteristic!’

‘I don’t see what is wrong with the nickname I choose.’

‘No, no! There is nothing wrong with it! But that could be something just between us!’ Then he gasped, picturing that, if he was inside a movie there would be a lamp shining right above his hair in this moment. ‘We could call you Ro!! You wanted to be a robot, right?’

His soulmate growled and Roman felt a few pokes on his arm, the verbal protest doesn’t taking long before accompanying it. ‘I was three years old!’

‘And I’m never letting you live this down.’ He beamed, both knowing the annoyed scoff he got as response held no real heat. ‘Besides, we could even match our names!!’

‘That would be very counterproductive.’ Roman felt his hair being softly smoothed, a usual indication the other was losing himself in his thoughts. ‘Nicknames are supposed to help us. Having two equal names is not the most efficient thing.’

Roman dramatically scoffed, picking the stuffed animal and half hugging it, his free hand occupying itself in making a couple of gestures to no one, since his soulmate couldn’t exactly see them. ‘It’s not about being productive, Bear! It’s about feelings!!’

‘And since when,’ a light poke was delivered on his belly, making him squeak and mess with the teddy bear’s hair in revenge ‘Everything isn’t feelings for you, your highness?’

…

“Okay,” Roman and his self past disappearing with the fading memory said, in synchrony “You shall call me by Prince, then.”

Suddenly he felt himself falling, his hands quickly holding on the tabletop as the cold, nauseous feeling took over his stomach, more like a punch on it, his veins being filled with amounts of adrenaline for a glimpse of a second.

“Excuse me? Warn a guy next time you decide to just drop his representation, dude! Damn.” Roman shook himself, trying to bring his body to calm down.

“Sorry, I got… startled.” Logan gulped. The word ‘Prince’ echoing on his mind as a broken vinyl disc. What were the chances? That couldn’t be such a common nickname, right? Nor color. Nor interests. What were the chances? What could be the chances? Maybe he was just projecting, being played, tricked by a dangerous partnership between his own brain and emotions. Maybe he was just jumping to conclusions due the nostalgic feeling fogging his actions, his thoughts. Perhaps-

“Hey, Lo? Are you there?”

“Yes.” Logan answered, his fingertips colliding quickly with the fabric of his pants as he visualized his options. “Yes, I am.”

“Hm. Okay, then. I’m… glad to know.”

Silence. Logan took a wobbly breath.

“Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back; Wherein he puts alms for oblivion; A great-size monster of ingratitudes:”

“Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd; As fast as they are made, forgot as soon.” Roman continued without even noticing until the words danced in the air, just like the years haven’t passed.

Then he understood.

His heart stopped for a second, his eyes widening and his voice disappearing, as if his whole being was afraid to break the moment, the spell; as if this was a dream and a miscalculate step would make everything fade.

“Bear?” Roman felt a light poke on his cheek.

“Hello, Prince.”

Roman choked a laugh, quickly crawling the teddy bear next to his chest, hugging it both firmly and yet so caring, curling around its - no, him - feeling an equal warmth involve his form as he hided his face on the soft fur, giggling and hugging, feeling so happy, so alive and right and good and he would never, ever, ever again let him go.

“I missed you, bitch. Never scare me like this again.”

“I… missed you, as well.” Logan tried to not let the emotion take over his tune, his hand petting the narwhal plushie softly, the words had abandoning him, as it seems. “This reunion is a… good surprise.”

“Oh, shut up, I know you’re having a blast somewhere in that logic soul of yours, too.”

Logan huffed, grinning. “Stop crying on my hair, your troglodyte.”

“Make me, I dare you.”

“Always so dramatic.” They both rolled their eyes, letting the moment be bathed in the deep waters of a comfortable silence.

“Eleven years.”

“We have so, so much to talk about!! Oh, my goodness gracious, I’m going to get my tea. Do you remember about that play I wrote about zombie princes and a dragon witch? You will NOT fucking believe what happened with it!”

“Good thing I have you to explain to me then.” Roman stopped, a gigantic smile taking over his features as he closed his eyes to feel everything even more.

“Yeah, I agree.”

Somewhere in the world Patton and Virgil smiled during their sleep, unable to control themselves when a gigantic wave of pure joy and delight filled every corner of their hearts, coloring it on the most brilliant gleam, just like their stuffed animals resting peacefully on their grip.

19 notes · View notes

sometimesrosy · 3 years

Note

I know this is just like a comparison and that we shouldn't do it, but! I've just finished reading From Blood and Ash, and I was completely amazed by it. When I was still in the middle of it, it somehow gave me the courage to be able to surpass my writer's block and begin my draft. Now, here comes the problem... today I realized something: the book was published March 2020, and the author claims she had the idea since 2016 but only started writing it in September 2019. (cont.)

(cont.) That's more or less 6 months between starting the 1st draft and publishing. I'm assuming there were edits done in the middle (I mean, all books do, don't they??) Imposter syndrome came up when I was still reading the book, my mind would ask how would I ever be able to write characters as good. But I persevered! It makes me happy to think of how fast things were for her, 5th book is on the way and it's been ~2 years, but at the same time it makes me nervous. Will I even finish my draft?

+++

All right, so I need to start off by saying I am NOT an expert in the publishing world. I don't know it. So I can't explain how that all worked for her. But, the pipeline from first draft to published book is shorter for an established author than it is for a new writer. In general, I mean, if they aren't suffering from writers block or are a slow writer to begin with, like GRR Martin. Or both. Idk why that book is not out yet.

But that author has... wait let me look it up. FIFTY SEVEN PUBLISHED BOOKS OUT.

!!!!

Since 2011!!!! That's almost 6 books a year. She's one of the people they joke about when they talk about YA writers putting out so many books.

Listen nonny. This lady is a speed writer. She's a power writer.

I know speed writers. I am one.

I ghostwrite contemporary romance novels, and in the last two and a half years, I have written something like 20 books. I'm not sure. I've lost count and they've all blurred together. They're shorter books, for sure but if you look at word count, it might be close to her writing speed. You might also consider the possibility that she's hired someone to help her write all those books. I don't know her writing, but she might have a ghostwriter either writing some of the books or helping her clean them up, she CERTAINLY has an editor working on the second drafts.

As a ghostwriter, I write ONLY the first draft. In fact, I just finished one/am finishing it TODAY. I started with an outline that I did in 2/3 days, then wrote 2-3k a day for 3-4 weeks. I have three days left to write the epilogue, then go over it to tighten and clean it up, then I'm done. I try not to have to write more than 3k a day, because for me it starts to get exhausting, although if I made as much money as that author does I'm sure it would lessen the exhaustion.

Writing at that speed is not normal. In order to write that fast, you have to be obsessive, you have to do it every day, you have to have a routine that works for you, you have to have a lot of practice writing, you have to be supremely confident in what you do. You have to BE a writer. As in that's your life and your identity and you have to commit a helluva lot of time to writing.

Okay, it is normal. It's within the parameters of normal writer human behavior, but it is 100% not necessary for writers and you also shouldn't expect it of yourself if you're still on your first book.

I personally feel that the writing suffers when you write that fast. It's hard to make the story deep and meaningful and the writing taut and zingy when you're zooming through the story. Also, she writes genre books, you see, and that means conventions and tropes, and she probably mixes and matches them. Tropey genre books can be SUPER fun books to read and write because we resonate with them easily because of the familiar tropes

She might also be naturally good at writing characters. That can happen. Where she just knows how to bring out that depth of character. She's probably written HUNDREDS of characters to get to that point. AHH. And she studied psychology in college. THAT'S why her characters are so good.

I'm looking at her wikipedia. She doesn't disclose her age, which makes me think she's older than you would expect which means she's been at this a long time. You don't know HOW long she's been writing, or how much she wrote BEFORE she got published or how fast she wrote when she first started out.

Let me use myself as an example. I started writing novels (SFF) with the intention of being an author when I was 15. I FINISHED my first complete draft of a novel at 25. It took me a year. (Lit fic)

It wasn't until I started Nanowrimo at 35 that I learned I could write 3k a day and therefore finish faster. That's when my writing (SFF) started picking up speed. Then I started writing fanfiction at 45 and dropped all the anxiety that I'd always attached to my writing which kept slowing me down. I started posting my fanfic as first draft, and didn't bother with the revision process that I used in my original fic. Then I realized that I could write fast and clean first drafts, so I applied to a company that does ghostwriting, and THEY asked me to write novels in 21 days. It's a push. I don't love the pressure of having to write that much every single day, but I do write fast and I love writing stories. When I don't write stories I started to get depressed. I DREAM in stories now. They're like novels and movies. It has soaked into my bones. I'm a sack of stories held together by tired muscles and skin and fueled by coffee and peanut butter apples.

In all that writing life, I got a HS diploma, a bachelor's degree in English and Creative Writing, a master's degree in Teaching, taught HS for five years, waited tables for something like ten years, got married, had two children, one of whom is ASD/ADHD/depressed, moved something like twenty times, three times across country, got divorced, got ptsd, came down with a chronic illness, and like, SO much more. Don't look to me for publishing advice, because I've come to realize that my undiagnosed ADHD has interfered with my executive function in JUST the way that makes publishing hard (organization, paper work, reaching out to people, summaries, query letters, ugh,) even while really making me a writing machine (hyper focus FTW.)

What am I trying to say to you?

FIRST: Don't compare your beginning stages to her mastery. You're starting out. She probably started out twenty years ago and has had twenty years to develop the skills to do what she does. Writing doesn't start when you write the first word and end when you write "the end." Writing starts YEARS before, in all the study and practice and training and words that no one ever sees.

SECOND: She didn't write this book in six months. You should have picked up on that when she said she's been developing this story since 2016. She's BEEN working on it. Even when not writing it. The planning has already been going on for years and she probably has put a LOT of effort into those characters that you think just poofed into being in six months. She had it in her head, and in her notes, and in her plans WAY before starting writing.

THIRD: Everyone's writing process is different and every book you write also happens differently. Just because she did her first draft in a month or two or six and you haven't finished yours yet doesn't mean you can't. You have to COMMIT to finishing it, and frankly, that's what happened to me with my first finished draft. I was afraid I would NEVER finish that book, so I made a commitment to sit down at the same time every day and write until I was done. I think I started with a page a day, then slowly worked up to three pages a day and every once in a while hit ten pages. That was before I used word counts. And before 2k a day was my favorite daily goal. You can WORK up to writing fast, although you don't need to. You just need to sit down and commit to finishing.

FOURTH: Don't worry about speed unless you have a deadline. Don't despair because a professional speed writer at the height of her career can pump books out. Be your OWN kind of writer. Just keep moving forward. And when you finally hit "THE END" celebrate. Then work on revision. A totally different experience.

#writing advice #rosy writes #speed writing #power writing #writing process #do not compare #just keep writing #just keep swimming #turtle writers #listen writing fast isn't necessarily better than writing slow #figure out what your writing process is and learn to trust it

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

Text

For @imashittalkingmushroom who requested some Tim content. Excerpt from one of the seemingly endless WIPs I toil away at in my downtime because me pace myself, in this economy, hah. This one’s called “The Vienna Game” and is Batfam ensemble versus a new rising threat, which Tim has a revelation about here. This part is just a rough draft for the moment, but you get the idea.

THE VIENNA GAME

Chapter Five: Pawn Storm

Barely five minutes after Tim’s head hit his pillow, he sat bolt upright in bed, heart hammering in his throat.

“They’re all connected,” he said, wide-eyed to an empty room. The lack of a response bequeathed by his surroundings was a bit, well, lacking, so he leaped to his feet and raced down to the hall to the Batcave’s nearest access point.

“They’re all connected,” he shouted again as he took the rough-hewn stone stairs three at a time. His words bounced and rattled off the walls of the cave, winging upwards into its darkest recesses and rousing the bats from their nests overhead. They scattered in every direction, deeper into the darkness, as they reacted to his urgency and intensity with shrieking complaints.

If only his actual family could be similarly moved. But no, they had to suck instead.

“Whozit whatzit howzit?” Dick swiveled in his chair, just enough to shoot the younger boy a quizzical eyebrow but not enough to necessitate removing his feet from next to the Batcomputer’s keyboard, where Bruce was currently drilling holes into them with a patented (and thus wholly ineffective) Batglare.

“What is it Lassie? Did Timmy fall down the well again? One bark for yes, two for no,” Jason said brightly. He bent at the waist and braced his hands on his thighs as though actually talking to a dog; it had the unfortunate side-effect of making his stupid brother a stupid firmly planted rock that did little more than shift the merest micro-meter when Tim rolled his eyes and brusquely shouldered past him.

“That doesn’t even make any sense. I’m Timmy,” he said irritably. Too late he realized the trap he’d blearily wandered into as his jackass brother practically cackled with glee. Tim reddened and quickened his pace to the Batcomputer. “Oh shut up.”

Jason swivelled, but whatever his intended follow-up, he abruptly cut off as an apple core arced out of the shadows and bounced off his head. The second eldest pivoted sharply once more and scowled in the direction it’d come from as Tim absently took note of the several other apple cores scattered around Jason’s feet.

“Would you stop that?”

Cassandra, target of his ire, merely contemplated him for a beat before shaking her head.

“No thank you,” she politely declined, and she bit into a fresh apple with a loud crunch.

“You will be cleaning those up, not Alfred,” their father said, wearily enough Tim got the sense this had been going on for quite some time. His sister just shrugged.

“Worth it.”

Bruce exercised the better part of valor and shifted his attention back to Tim. “And didn’t you say you were going to bed?”

“I did say that,” Tim said agreeably as he barreled forth unto the Batcomputer. He batted (hah - oh no, the sleep deprivation was real) Dick’s feet aside and rebutted Dick’s injurious expression with an apologetic one of his own; apparently appeased, Dick just lithely shrugged and lifted his linked legs straight off the desk’s surface and then just never stopped. Instead he kept lifting his legs up, up and away until he’d transitioned into a perfect handstand on the seat of the chair, which he then transitioned out of by gracefully flipping over the chair’s back and onto his feet. Because see, Tim’s eldest brother’s middle name was not in fact ‘John,’ it was ‘Just That Extra.’

“I even did that,” Tim continued as he set his fingers to dancing swiftly across the keyboard. “But then I realized something.”

“You look ridiculous when you pop your collar,” Steph said knowingly.

“What? No. Wait, when have I ever done that?”

“Umm, the last time you were drunk, duh.”

Tim paused just long enough to shoot his ex an absolutely baffled look, over where she was lounging bonelessly next to Cass.

“When was I drunk?”

Steph tilted her head to the side and squinted in thought. “Drunk, concussed....whatever. It was definitely one of those two. I have pictures. They’re not good.”

Perhaps sensing his impending spontaneous combustion, Bruce interceded, raising a hand to quiet the perpetual storm of sibling (and Steph) nonsense.

“What’s this about, Tim?”

“Our newest Rogue, the one we just finally caught last week,” Tim reported, turning his attention back to the Dance of the Keystrokes. “We have a problem.”

Their father frowned. “Desperado? What’s the problem?”

“His name,” Tim said grimly. He finished pulling up the string of files he’d only minutes ago linked together in his own mind. Flashing into existence on the wall to wall screens before them were all the notes the various members of their family had compiled on the new villain in town, as well as a number of other files for a good dozen or so other relatively new or unknown villains scattered across the globe, with these latter documents pulled from the digital archives of various superhero teams and law enforcement agencies worldwide.

Blitz, a speedster located in Southern California, their indistinct form pixelated and blurred virtue of the crackling halo of electrical energy they seemed to wear like a cloak of St. Elmo’s Fire.

A Filipino man and woman purported to be fraternal twins operating out of a number of hotspots throughout Southeast Asia, with a combined name whose translation from Tagalog roughly amounted to ‘Double Check.’

A young brunette woman seemingly barely out of her teens, with eyes hidden behind an overly large pair of sunglasses, linked to a series of crimes in Argentina and Chile and allegedly going by the name ‘Swindle.’

A black man in his mid to late twenties, moving across the Iberian peninsula, with no reported name given, just a strange adherence to a symbol that appeared to be of a windmill, of all things, and that had local press dubbing him ‘Don Quixote.’

King March, a white man in his late forties to early fifties, with black hair and greying temples and a stern but smug disposition in all the files Interpol had compiled on him due to his frequent appearances as a person of interest throughout Eastern Europe.

A short, acrobatic Latino teleporter who offered up only the name ‘Castle’ in his sporadic run-ins with various hero organizations across the globe.

Tempo, suspected to originally hail from Sri Lanka, and last sighted in Hong Kong of all places...and by no means the only one of this assortment of individuals engaged in criminal enterprises in a city known for its Batman Inc presence.

Undermine, a masked man so far content to operate just out of Australia.

Flag Fall, another masked individual largely spotted in the Southeastern U.S.

An unseen person or persons known only by a calling card left in various Saharan regions, identifying them as someone named ‘Tabia.’

And lastly, a mature black woman out of the UK, sporting a wry, enigmatic smile in the only known picture of her, alongside her alleged pseudonym: Zugzwang.

“It was pretty much total coincidence I put it together,” Tim said as his family gathered more closely behind him to survey the assembled files over his shoulder. “I’d come across most these files over the past couple months, just in passing, as I like to familiarize myself with the various players in most Batman Inc. operating cities, and I was just reading this last file before bed, just to kinda wind down, y’know....”

“That sentence makes me so sad I don’t even have the heart to make fun of you,” Jason interrupted. He frowned. “Wait, that implies I have a heart. Hang on, that doesn’t sound right. And is this, what, sympathy I’m feeling right now? Eww, that is not the emotion I ordered. Take it back.”

Tim glared at him briefly, and then foraged on. “Anyway, as I was saying, I happened to be reading this last file before bed, and her name stuck out for me and from there I just started connecting some dots. See, alone, none of these names stand out as particularly significant, but put them together, and what happens?”

“They all have multiple meanings,” Damian said, scowling at the screens with focused intensity. “Mostly innocuous, but they’re also all....hmm. Chess terminology.”

Tim nodded enthusiastically. “Bingo! Ten points to Stabby Smurf.”

He bent over the keyboard again and started pulling up various video files, catching sight of reflections out of the corner of his eye as he did so. Duke seemed to be mouthing “Stabby Smurf” with a kind of horrified awe and Damian himself seemed unable to decide if he was offended or not. Whoops, that part hadn’t been meant to come out aloud. Tim coughed to cover a grimace slash smirk and hastened back to his point.

“For instance, based on geographical location alone, Flag Fall seems to be an obvious reference to an actual flag, but the term also refers to timed chess matches, when a given player has run out of time to make a move. Swindle isn’t just a term for cheating or fraud, but in chess, refers to when a losing player tricks their opponent into falling for a decoy move that ends the game in a draw instead of a loss. King march is a term for when you advance your king up the board, tempo is a single turn or move, a double check is when two different pieces put an opponent’s king in check simultaneously, and undermining is when you capture a defensive piece of your opponent’s and leave their king undefended.”

He stopped for a breath and Damian quickly stepped into the breach and picked up where he left off, seamlessly following the train of thought. “And Tabia comes from the Arabic for ‘essence,’ but in chess is a key point, specifically a point of departure from which you can perform any number of signature moves. The windmill symbol utilized by this individual in Spain and its surrounding regions most likely then does not reference Don Quixote, but rather a looped series of moves, usually brought upon by a rook and a bishop, which forces an opponent’s king to ‘windmill’ back and forth between just two or three squares in order to keep out of check.”

“And then Blitz of course refers to a specific opening gambit, that can bring about checkmate in four moves or less,” Tim resumed. “And while Castle has so far been assumed to be nothing more than a surname according to various heroes who have encountered him, largely no doubt due to the fact that he doesn’t affect any kind of costume or disguise, when you consider that pretty much all his demonstrations of teleportation utilize a kind of ‘switching’ of two persons’ relative placement in space/time, either as a signature or an actual staple of his power, its far more likely his name is a reference to ‘castling.’ Which of course then just brings us back to Zugzwang, which is a German term that loosely translates to ‘compulsion to move’ and specifically denotes any scenario in chess in which a player has no choice but to move, even though all moves available to them are inevitably going to worsen their position.”

They all took a minute to absorb that then, speed-reading their way through the various files with all the quickness that made it an actual possibility one or more of them might someday make it all the way through a read-through of the entire Wayne Manor Library, even taking into account the minimal time any of them allotted to the having of actual ‘hobbies.’

It was Cass who found something new to seize upon next, though she never once flicked her eyes away from where they tracked the movements of one videoed individual to the next, screen by screen.

“It’s not just the names,” she reported, scrutinizing each figure intently. “They move alike. When they fight. Its not a lot. But enough that they probably trained together, or at least shared a teacher.”

Tim nodded again. “I thought so too, but I wasn’t sure. I don’t have your eye for that, but it seemed like they might.”

“Reeet, record scratch,” Steph jumped in then. “Not to be all ‘talk nerdy to me, baby,’ since we don’t do that any more and whoops, totally forgot for a second that your dad is legit standing right here, wow, awkwaaaaaard, but for those of us still waiting to buy a vowel, why is this a problem with that Desperado dude specifically?”

“Because we’ve been operating off of the assumption that he chose his name as a more obvious reference to simply being some kind of outlaw,” Bruce said. “But in terms of chess specifically, a desperado piece is any piece that is trapped or in danger, and then sacrifices itself to achieve some kind of maximum damage or compensation that greatly outweighs the loss of itself.”

Steph nodded and pursed her lips. “Cool, cool. Okay so first off, let me just say how glad I am that it was you in specific that decided to follow up on that. Definitely the best of all timelines there, like just so, so absolutely stellar, that. It in no way compounded the awkwardness of the moment or contributed to my pending death by mortification. Secondly, oh, like. Yikes, so that’s not great, huh.”

“No, its not,” Bruce said seriously, with only the barest of twitches in the proximity of those things other people use to smile, aka lips. “If all of this turns out to bear fruit, as I suspect it will, the relative ease with which this Desperado was captured is nothing short of ominous. But luckily, we now have a chance to get ahead of whatever else might be in the works there. Excellent work, Tim.”

Tim squirmed, digging deep into the well of his bodily mastery and various techniques for exerting mind over matter. Don’t blush, don’t blush, you’re a super cool crime-fighting dude, not a total dweeb. “Like I said, it was mostly just dumb luck.”

“Hey now, none of that, Baby Bird,” Dick said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You still had to spot the pattern and connect the dots no matter how circumstantial you feel happening across the first dot was. That’s all you, kiddo.”

“Dick, I’m almost eighteen,” Tim whined. Ugh, his brother was the worst. He was going to be calling him Baby Bird when he was eighty at this point. And there went all his attempts at bodily mastery. Insult was added to injury when he stumbled to the side, then, though that had more to do with Jason hip-checking him out of the way so he could take over at the Batcomputer’s keyboard.

“Hey! What the hell was that for, Jay?”

“Umm, saving your ass, duh,” his other older brother said. Tim narrowed his eyes.

“That tracks how, exactly?”

“You were well on your way to immolation by way of embarrassment thanks to all the attention, so I’m stealing your thunder, double duh. Like I said, saving your ass. You’re welcome,” Jason said distractedly, busy with whatever else he was doing aside from being King of the Assholes.

Correction. That brother was the worst.

“Gee, thanks ever so much,” Tim intoned acidly.

“Don’t mention it, brat.”

Tim was still working on a return volley when Jason found whatever it was he was looking for and called up some more files onscreen.

“Okay, so check it out. Remember back in March, when we caught wind of some ‘new talent’ looking to establish a foothold in the local underground, and once we routed them, the only head honcho we could seemingly trace all of that back to was someone we assumed to be named Cassie or Cassandra based on what little we could decrypt of her communications? So now I’m thinking what if we filled in the gaps there wrong, and her name actually was Caissa?”

Tim looked around, but the name didn’t seem to be ringing any bells for anyone else either.

“Okay, I’ll bite. Who the hell is Caissa?”

“The fictional regurgitation of some plagiaristic hack from two hundred years ago.”

“Jason,” Bruce sighed. Jason rolled his eyes.

“Fine, whatever. So there’s this poem by this untalented dumbass named William Jones back in the 1700s, about a made-up Greek goddess of chess, named Caissa. But really, its just a rip-off of a much older poem from the 1500s by an Italian dude named Hieronymus Vida, in which the character of Caissa was originally named Scacchia. So I mean, I’m just saying, if this chick was going by the name Scacchia, I would have pegged what that was a reference to right away, because like, I have taste and so I’m way more familiar with the original version than the ode of a derivative hack. But I guess you just can’t count on bad guys to default to the superior take,” he lamented with a mournful sigh.

“But wait, aren’t you a bad guy?” Duke inquired, all bright eyes and fake innocence. Jason shot him A Look.

“Not this week, duh. Keep up.”

“Oh, sorry, my bad. I forgot to look at the calendar again.”

“You’re forgiven,” Jason said magnaminously. “Anyway, might just be a hunch, but worth looking into, I’d say. If her name really was actually Caissa, this Desperado could be working for her, and he might actually just be Round Two.”

Cass nodded. “Makes sense. Also restores my good name. Thanks little brother.”

“Any time, little sister. This mean you’ll stop throwing shit at me now?”

“Nope.”

“I hate you.”

“I know. Keeps me up at night.”

“You’re nocturnal, you bipedal asshat.”

Cass just smirked some more and sashayed away. Then flipped into a handstand and started walking away on her hands because clearly, she’d been spending too much time with Dick.

Which reminded him - Tim turned his attention back to his oldest brother, mortification forgotten or at least put on hold for the moment.

“Hey, so, a lot of the files noted that several of these people are likely polyglots,” Tim said. “Since Cass thinks they have some kind of shared combat instruction in their background, I’m thinking there’s a chance we could get a better idea of what regions they all might have been in, in order to get that shared instruction, if we could isolate what languages or dialects or even accents they might have in common, y’know? You’ve got the best ear for languages, what do you think?”

Dick nodded thoughtfully as he perused several of the files. “Its a good idea. I’ll get into it. First though, I’ve gotta make a few calls.”

Their father shot him an appraising glance. “Harper?” He asked.

Dick nodded again. “Yeah, Roy, but also Helena and Tiger. Can’t hurt to have all three of them read in on this. Where there’s smoke there’s fire, and where there’s chess, there’s bound to be Checkmate. I’d find it way too big a coincidence if there’s not a connection there somewhere, and if there is one to be found, I��d say those three are our best chance of finding it.”

Bruce made a sour face. Dick arched a challenging eyebrow. Bruce sighed.

“I’m not disagreeing, I just don’t like it.”

Dick laughed. “Well, you don’t like anything, so really we’re all just in awe of your dedication to your Brand, Pops.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and sighed again, before turning his attention back to Tim. “As for you, I think you’ve contributed enough for one night, don’t you? Why don’t you get back to what you were doing before this....what was that again....oh right, getting some sleep?”

Tim made a face of his own. He was way too keyed up now - again - still - to go back to bed now. And again, must he reiterate, he was almost eighteen, helloooooo.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

“Oh good, I’m so glad that’s what’s catching on as the family motto.”

“Don’t see you going to bed,” Tim sulked in a most mature fashion. The absolute height of maturity. Nay, the apogee, the zenith, we’re talking orbital here.

“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne,” Jason interrupted in a thunderous facsimile of their father’s impressive baritone. “This is a Do As I Say, Not As I Do household!”

“This from the son who makes an art form out of never doing either,” Bruce said dryly.

Jason shrugged and buffed his nails against his chest, blithely unconcerned. “I go my own way. Its part of my charm.”

“Oh cool,” Duke cut in excitedly. “Are we playing that game again where we just make up our own definitions that have nothing to do with the actual words we say?”

Jason gasped and pressed his palm flat over his heart. “Et tu, Daisy Dukes?”

Duke nodded gravely. “Et mi, Sweeney Todd.”

“Boys,” Bruce said wearily.

Both stopped and shot him expectant looks.

“What?”

“I actually have no idea, to be honest. It just feels like one of those things I should attempt to say periodically. Never mind. Carry on.”

Jason snorted and rolled his eyes at Duke as the two of them wandered off towards the opposite end of the cave. “As if we were ever going to do otherwise. He’s so weird sometimes, I swear.”

Duke hummed in agreement. “I think its on account of him being an ancient eldritch being.”

“I’m only forty-two,” Bruce called after them, aggrieved. They ignored him.

“Did you know, he was actually there to witness the actual dawn of time,” Jason said. “And yet, wake him up before noon and its like you’ve committed murder. And I would know. I’ve actually murdered people.”

“That’s true, you have.”

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everwizard · 3 years

Text

In the Eye of the Beholder

Chapter One: In the Beginning

Summary: "Dream had a secret. A secret that was well kept. A secret that could topple his very kingdom if it got out.Dream was blind." When the prince of Surmup receives news of a force threatening the southern borders of his land, he embarks on a quest to put a stop to it.

Warnings: Blindness I guess

Word count: 1,220

AO3 Link

Dream had a secret. A secret that was well kept. A secret that could topple his very kingdom if it got out.

Dream was blind.

He wasn't always blind. In fact, most of his life he could see.

He could see all the beauties and wonders of the world. All the flora, fauna, and colours. Deer, horses, trees, red, blue, green.

He could see his friends and family and everything else he loved.

For the first twelve years of his life, Dream could see everything. Until he couldn’t.

His vision had been slowly deteriorating over the course of six years. It had started off with simple nearsightedness. He even wore contact lenses for a time. But then it got worse. Soon he could barely see that which was right in front of him.

As his eyesight faded, so too did his spirit. He became colder, quieter, more calculated. He began isolating himself and relying more heavily on his hearing.

He was fifteen when he attended one of his usual meetings--though they seemed to get less and less frequent. He turned to his knight, George, only knowing it was him by the telltale blue blur of his clothes. George always wore blue; it was the only colour he could see right with his colorblindness. Dream frequently made fun of his friend’s affliction. Or he used to. Not as much anymore.

“I’d like to commission a mask,” Dream spoke.

Sapnap looked up at Dream, his head cocked in confusion. “A mask? Why?”

Dream turned his attention in the direction of Sapnap’s voice. His red headband was barely visible against the rest of his featureless face. “Call it a style choice.” He slid a book across the table, open to a random page somewhere in the middle. “I’ve already drafted a design.”

The book held a hand-drawn picture of a face. It was not a detailed face, quite the opposite actually. It was a white circle, slightly elliptical, with two eyes and a smile. The eyes were positioned just a bit too far apart and more than a bit too far down. The disproportionate face was eerily unsettling.

George looked at the sketch and back at Dream. “Is this for decoration or something?” he asked.

“It’s for wearing,” Dream said.

“You won’t be able to see,” George observed.

“I’ll enchant it.”

George shrugged. “Alright then.” He grabs the book and tucks it away. “I’ll have the blacksmith get on it right away.”

Dream didn’t have the heart to tell his employees, his friends that the mask was never meant to be seen out of. It was okay though, much like he could no longer see their faces, filled with emotions he could no longer know, they wouldn’t be able to see his. It was better this way, he assured himself. Nobody would have to know.

Nobody would have to know.

By the time Dream was eighteen, he had gone completely blind. For months he could only distinguish between light and dark but now he couldn't even do that. Everything was just… Gone.

He had long since forgotten what his friends looked like, not that they would look the same anymore anyway. The change in their voices took some getting used to but he caught on quickly. George had a deeper voice that flowed like water in a creek. Sapnap's was a bit higher, a bit warmer and more coarse; like the sun on a late spring's day.

He could even easily distinguish between his further friends. Although BadBoyHalo apparently had an eerie appearance, he had a high voice that sounded like the milk served with fresh baked cookies. Antfrost, the tabaxi, was lower than Bad but higher than Sapnap and felt like grass awakening after a long winter.

Dream had gotten used to using sound to sense his surroundings. He could differentiate footsteps, locations, even time of day just by listening to the world around him.

He had been wearing his mask every day for the past three years to hide his affliction. As far as he could tell, his friends were none the wiser.

They never brought up how he never quite looked directly at them, how he always seemed to know who was sneaking up on him, no matter how careful they were, how he could identify the location of prey on hunting trips long before it showed itself. If his friends weren’t going to say anything, Dream most certainly wouldn’t.

When Dream was twenty-one, his father summoned him into a meeting room. The room was devoid of all life other than Dream and his father. Nobody was allowed in the room when the two had their meetings. Other than Dream, the only people that knew about his eyes were his parents. Their meetings were one of the few times Dream could remove his mask. As such, the only person that had a glimpse at Dream’s true emotions was his father.

“Son,” Dream’s father started, “as you know, as Prince of Surmup, you have expectations and responsibilities.”

“Yes, father,” Dream responded. They had had this conversation many times before. Usually it was followed by Dream being scolded for something or another. This time seemed to be different though. His father’s voice was calmer, more gentle. It held hints of worry and concern. What did his father have to be concerned about?

“I’ve received news of a threat terrorizing our southern border.” Dream recalled his geography lessons. To the southern border of Surmup was the Antarctic Empire. Its leader, Philza, was a phoenix who had ruled its land from the day of its conception. His three sons were set to inherit the land, but a phoenix lives long and Phil was not ready to die. As such, the three princes were able to spend their time doing what they pleased, free from the responsibilities of ruling.

"Normally we would have some of our soldiers take care of it," Dream was broken out of his thoughts as his father continued, "but this issue needs to be dealt with with a certain level of diplomacy. The nature of the threat concerns both Surmup and the Antarctic Empire.”

“And what does that have to do with me?” Dream asked.

“Emperor Philza has specifically requested your aid in handling the issue.”

Philza requested him? The Philza? Dream was skilled in battle, sure, but he was nothing compared to Philza the Undying. To say Dream was honoured would be an understatement.

“I am more than happy to send my son on this journey,” the king continued, “and I know you are more than capable, but I cannot in good conscience send you alone. That is why I have elected to send your most devoted knights to accompany you. George and Sapnap are currently being briefed in another room. When they are finished, they will be sent to take care of the necessary preparations for your departure in the morning. Likewise, when we are done, I will send you to do the same. Do you have any questions?”

Dream had a million questions, but none of them were relevant to his father. He would not let his face betray his confusion as he answered a simple, “No.”

“Good,” the king said. “You are dismissed.”

Dream left the meeting room with a thousand thoughts racing through his head.

#dream smp #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #sapnap #philza #fantasy au #magic #dream is blind #blind character #theres so much lore in this i might make a seperate blog

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wrenhyperfixates · 4 years

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Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Thor has always been supportive of his brother’s love life, but Loki won’t tell him that he’s dating you. When Thor won’t stop setting him up on dates, Loki has to move past his fears and confess. Warnings: just a fluff-bomb A/N: Thank you for requesting, my lovely nonny! This is longer than a typical imagine might be because I had so much fun with it (in fact it’s really more of a oneshot, oops). If you wanted something a little shorter, I already had a similar incorrect quote in my drafts that I’ll be posting for you later in the week :)

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Sometimes it was hard to have a brother so dense. There were plenty of times during their youth when Loki would try to discuss lessons or ladies with Thor, but never seemed to make any sort of breakthrough. It was only when Loki started dating you that he was glad for it, as it made hiding the blooming relationship much easier. That is, until Thor kept trying to set him up on dates.

“I believe I might shove my brother off a cliff, darling,” Loki whined one afternoon, dramatically flopping on your bed.

“Aww. What did he do now?” you inquired after giving him a small peck on the lips.

“He arranged another date for me, and I was left with the arduous task of cancelling. It is a wonder how he has not noticed how absolutely smitten I am with you, my love.”

He nuzzled into your neck as you cuddled him, breathing in your comforting scent. You bent your head down to place a kiss on the adorable little crinkle between his brows. He relaxed a bit, but you could tell he was still stressed.

“Well, we could always tell him about us,” you suggested as Loki’s frown reappeared. “I mean, almost everyone else on the team figured it out. So I don’t really see why we shouldn’t tell Thor.”

Loki pondered this for a moment. True, the other Avengers were aware of your relationship, save for Steve and Bucky, who were too oblivious to even realize their own feelings for each other. Still, it was different with Thor, his brother, his only family left. He knew how fond of you Thor was, but if he were to oppose to the two of you dating, he had no idea what he’d do.

“My brother can be overbearing. I am not certain that telling him is the best option at present.”

“Ok. If you’re sure that’s all, then we’ll wait.”

He whispered a thank you into your hair as you shifted positions so that now he was spooning you. The whole reason you’d decided to keep the fact you were dating a secret in the first place was to be able to enjoy quiet moments like this. Loki has been worried that his teammates would disapprove and try to split you up. Surprisingly, they were supportive, even if they did engage in some subtle teasing. Though, their knowledge of your relationship made what happened at dinner the next night all the more embarrassing.

You and Loki kept secretly holding hands under the table, earning you some smirks from your teammates who happened to notice. Feeling self-conscious, you broke apart but left your legs touching ever so slightly, just enough to feel the warmth radiating off each other. You must have laughed a little too loudly at something Loki said because, suddenly, Thor got what he thought to be a novel idea.

“You know,” he said, pointing at you and Loki, “I believe you two would make a really cute couple.” As if that weren’t bad enough, he continued in a stage whisper, “You should really ask them out, Loki.”

The God of Mischief turned bright red as you started fidgeting in your seat. Everyone else made eye contact with each other before giving in to a bout of laughter. Thor demanded to know what was so funny, but no one could get any words out. When Tony laughed so hard he fell out of his seat, Loki decided that he’d had enough.

“Brother,” he shouted over the din. “I-well, we have something to tell you.”

“What is it?” he shouted back, still not catching on.

“Maybe we should do this somewhere quieter,” you suggested after a small sigh.

The three of you made your way out of the noisy dining room, and Loki started wringing his hands as both his lover and brother looked at him expectantly. This was his moment to finally get the truth out there. Unfortunately, his hands seemed to have a mind of their own and lashed out with a dagger, striking Thor.

“Surprise attack!”

“Loki!” you bellowed, upset with your boyfriend.

“Do not worry, my friend. This is a normal occurrence,” Thor assured you as Loki grabbed your hand and whisked you away.

Once behind closed doors, you fixed him with a withering glare. He knew that he was being ridiculous, especially now that Thor has shown he would be fine with you two dating. But Loki realized something else was stopping from sharing his joy with his brother. If he told Thor, it would be like bridging his old life and his new one. Granted, you already knew of his past misdeeds, but what if there was something else he hasn’t told you? Something long forgotten in his memory that Thor lets slip? In the end, his reluctance all boiled down to a fear of losing you.

“I know, I know. That was not the best route to choose. I just didn’t think it was the right time to say anything,” he lied.

“Why can’t you just be honest with me, Loki?” you pleaded as tears formed in your eyes. “It’s obvious that you’re embarrassed of me or something. The least you could do is tell the truth about it.”

“Oh, my darling,” he cooed, wiping a plump drop that had fallen and made a glistening track halfway down your cheek. “Please understand that my inability to tell my brother of us has nothing to do with you. You are the most wonderful thing to ever happen to me.”

“Then what is it?”

“I fear that you may come to resent me if you hear any more of my past.”

“Loki,” you said, voice heavy with emotion. “Look at me. I know that you’ve done some... questionable things before. But I know you now, and that’s what I care about. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of, but you work harder than anyone I know to make up for it. It’s one of the many reasons that I love you.”

He looked at you with eyes full of gratitude before hugging you close. “I love you too, dearest. Never doubt that.”

The air relaxed around Loki and his beloved as a quiet contemplation settled in. He slowly rocked the two of you back and forth, trying to plan his next move. If there was one thing he didn’t like, it was not knowing what to do next. But he was sure that, with you beside him, he could figure it out.

“Ok,” you said after sucking in a long breath. “We’ll wait then. As long as you need.”

“No,” Loki interjected, coming to a conclusion as you spoke. “I want to tell him now. Well, maybe not right at this moment. But tomorrow for certain.”

After checking that he was sure of this decision, you agreed to have lunch with Thor where you would tell him the news. Loki’s nerves were at an all-time high by noon the next day. He helped you set the table to try to calm them, but nothing seemed to cull his worries. You came up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing kisses to the tense spots between his shoulder blades.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright. I promise,” you reassured him, hoping to relieve some of the pressure he was feeling.

He relaxed in your embrace for a second before you broke away upon hearing Thor’s heavy footsteps approaching. Loki tweaked the utensils once more, and you pressed a quick kiss to his knuckles in a final act of comfort. It also helped some that Thor seemed to be in an even more jovial mood than usual. Which, of course, was saying something as the god was relentlessly optimistic.

Sitting down, he greeted you both by name and told you everything smelled delicious. The God of Thunder bit his lip to hold back a smile, but you and Loki could see it tugging its way onto his face. The two of you shared a look, attempting to figure out what exactly was the cause of such joy for the older Odinson boy.

“Um, Thor?” you said. “Is there something you wanted to share with us?”

“No. Is there something you want to share with me?”

Another look passed between you and Loki. Suddenly, Loki realized that his brother must know the news you were about to share. It figures that after all this time, he worked it out moments before he was about to come clean.

“You have figured it out,” Loki sighed, “haven’t you?”

Thor nodded eagerly and came around the table to hug his brother and friend, overjoyed that they were dating. He loosened his grip around you upon hearing your gasping voice telling him he was hugging too tight, a terrible habit of his.

“But when did you figure it out?” you questioned, puzzling over the timeline of events.

“I have known for months, of course.” He tried to stick to this story, but the skeptical looks from both you and his brother made him abandon his position. “I saw you two being all cuddly just before I came in,” he conceded with slumped shoulders.

All three of you began to laugh, and Loki was surprised by how relieved he felt at not having to actually confess. The rest of the lunch went swimmingly, and the God of Mischief relaxed further, happy to have both his brother and beloved in such high spirits. Unfortunately, his own sunk when Thor offered to tell a story about him. It seemed like his worst fears were about to come true.

“One time when we were children,” Thor began with a wistful look in his eye, “Loki tried to use some of his magic and accidentally turned himself into a cat. He came to my room and pestered me until I brought him to mother. Remember that, brother?”

“Indeed, I do,” Loki said with a nostalgic laugh, feeling relieved that was all Thor shared. “It was one of the first spells I ever tried. I am afraid that I sorely botched it. I was coughing hair balls for weeks.”

“So that’s why you won’t let me get a kitten!” you added with a laugh of your own.

The brothers went back and forth telling embarrassing stories about the other. You refused to share any of your awkward childhood moments, and your companions vowed to get some out of you one day. All in all, Loki had a great time. He squeezed your hand in thanks under the table. With shining eyes he observed you and Thor laughing. He realized that, for the first time in his life, he had nothing to worry about. After all, he’d been wrong when he’d thought Thor was the only family he had left. Now you were his family, too. And nothing could possibly take away you or the love you shared.

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