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thatgamefromthatad · 3 years

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Seen these ads? (Obey Me! Review)

This is a visual novel/otome/gacha card RPG game with the same characters and themes as featured in the ads.

As stated in many of the ads this game centers around seven demon brother love interests (as well as some other potential love interests) although the game has a lot of plot elements other than just romance. Most of the ads that I’ve seen feature real art that appears in the game one way or another, and the ads tend to be focused more on the characters and theme in general rather than specific gameplay. Of the ads that do appear to show gameplay, most of the time it’s not really what you’ll see in the game but still follows fairly close to the actual game (for example, the “kiss, free, whip” ad on the top left doesn’t show real gameplay, but you can kiss or whip that character. But that specific art comes from a gacha card I believe and isn’t what you see when you do the kissing and whipping).

A few notes before I get into the full review:

I’m a lesbian, so I’m definitely not the target audience for this game, but I always try to be objective and open-minded when playing any game I’m not the target audience for (other examples I’ve reviewed in the past are Moments, which was also primarily targeted toward women who are attracted to men, Immortal Taoists, which involved a genre I had never heard of before and really had no interest in, Time Princess, which also wasn’t my favorite genre but was still a great game, and various Genius Inc. visual novels, which are targeted more toward high-school age boys as far as I can tell).

Speaking of lesbians, this game weirdly censors the word “lesbians” but not any other LGBTQ+ terms (that don’t include the word “sexual”) as far as I can tell; I decided it was enough of a one-off thing that it wouldn’t factor a huge amount in my overall review of the game, but I think it’s still something to take note of and not let off the hook since it definitely shows bias and can be offensive to players.

This game is rated 12+ on the Apple App Store, and I was pretty harsh on Crush Crush for being rated that way because I thought it crossed the line with some of its sexually suggestive content. I kept that in mind while playing this one, and personally I don’t think it crossed the line in the same way, at least not from what I’ve played so far; although it does have sexually suggestive content (most often when interacting with the character Asmodeus, who is literally known in the game as the “Avatar of Lust”), it’s much more occasional through tidbits of dialog as opposed to in Crush Crush where it involved a whole section of the game and was more interactive in nature. I would definitely still cringe at the thought of a 12-year-old reading some of this dialog, but I think it fits fairly within the App Store descriptors of “Infrequent/Mild Sexual Content and Nudity” and “Infrequent/Mild Mature/Suggestive Themes.”

Last note - there is a character in this game (Luke) who has the appearance and demeanor of a small child who you can interact with in a similar way to the other love interest characters, which concerned me for obvious reasons. I looked more into this, specifically reading into all of the different dialog options involving this character, and his responses never seem to be more than platonic, which is good. He still blushes when you give him gifts and stuff, which is kind of awkward, and it seems weird to throw a kid character into an otome game, but all considered I wouldn’t say the game is promoting anything inappropriate (unlike one of the Genius VNs that clearly involved relationships between an adult and minors).

Sorry I know that’s a lot of notes and disclaimers but I just wanted to that all out of the way as general concerns anyone might have trying this game or reading this review!

Without further ado, read my full review below:

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(I’m trying a new color-coding system to help highlight some of the main points of my review if you don’t want to read my entire essay word-for-word lol. Pink is a positive aspect of the game, red is a negative aspect/criticism and purple is not necessarily positive or negative but just something I wanted to highlight.)

😈 Is the game actually fun? Yes! Just in terms of production value, this game is top notch: the art and character designs are very appealing, the transitions between characters’ poses and facial expressions during VN scenes are actually animated (which looks much smoother and more natural than switching between still images), the voice acting is great (although the VN scenes aren’t fully voice acted, some parts like phone calls are and the characters say different phrases during scenes and battles as well)(Note: all the voice acting is Japanese), and the music is FANTASTIC and perfectly sets the vibe throughout the game.

The best parts of this game in my opinion are the different personalities of the characters and the overall plot; although some of the characters’ personalities can be a bit one-note at times (for example, one character’s entire personality that I’ve seen so far is that he likes to eat and is always hungry), the characters each have their own charm and play off each other well. I found myself getting invested in each of the characters’ desires and goals throughout the story, even the characters I didn’t particularly like. The story is also chock full of humor which is always fun, and the whole world and backstory built around this game (the “Devildom” setting and the idea of an exchange student program with angels, humans and demons) are also unique and impressive.

I really enjoyed the multiple modes of storytelling i.e. how the VN chapters are supplemented with text messages and phone calls from characters and an Instagram spoof with additional side stories to unlock. I know this isn’t a new thing in mobile games (even Gardenscapes and Homescapes do it to an extent lol) but add the compelling characters and overall production value on top and it’s a really enjoyable experience. Since the home screen of the game is set up like it’s your phone, with the different parts of the game represented as “apps,” the game kind of creates a feeling like you’re really living in this world with these characters where you can freely scroll through their Instagram feeds and check the messages you get from them on your own time. The shop where you can buy items and premium currency is called Akuzon (an Amazon spoof) and the place where all your gacha cards are is called “contacts,” which further adds to the immersive effect.

The “dating” part of the game is pretty cute although I haven’t gotten super far so I’m not sure of the full scope of the romantic interactions. From what I can tell, in addition to the dialog, blushy faces and bedroom eyes you get from characters when you give them gifts and touch different parts of their body (above the belt lol), when you raise your intimacy level with them you get additional phone calls and messages from them (I haven’t played a lot of otome games but I think that’s how a lot of them go). I wasn’t that invested in this part of the game but I think there’s some strategy that goes with using the right combination of gifts and touches to maximize intimacy boosts and get certain dialog, which adds a whole other aspect of gameplay in addition to the main game. I also noticed that occasionally your choices throughout the VN chapters will give you a small intimacy boost with a certain character; I kind of wish this was even more integrated since most of the time I felt like no matter what I chose it didn’t make any difference in my relationship with characters. Also, I don’t think there’s a way to “officially” date a specific character, it’s more about raising the intimacy level to earn more interactions but it doesn’t actually affect the main plot.

As far as the main mode of progressing through the game, which is winning “dance battles” with teams from your gacha collection, this part of the game has its own positive qualities such as the cute chibi forms of the characters that appear on screen and the fact that some of the special attacks show a little anime clip of the character (of course it’s less exciting when you see the same clip every battle but I still thought it was a nice touch). I was a little disappointed that there wasn’t a rhythm aspect as the “dance battle” name would imply, and your main interaction during the battle itself is basically just tapping hearts that pop up and tapping the characters when their attacks are ready, but you also have the option to skip that whole interactive sequence and just get a result based on your team’s stats, so there’s not much to complain about there (especially since the battles are sort of a side note compared to the storytelling aspect of the game despite being the main element of RPG-based gameplay that allows you to progress). If you are interested in the RPG aspects, there’s plenty of that to work with (building teams, balancing attributes, managing resources/rewards to level up cards and progress through skill trees of sorts, all that good stuff) although you’re limited to an extent by how difficult it is to get a lot of gacha draws without paying real money. It’s even harder to be able to focus on both strategy and character relationships while playing for free when the same scarce currency is used for both gacha draws and gifts.

👿 Is this a free game or a “free game”? Despite what I just said, I would still consider it a free game - you can gradually save up some of premium currency the game gives out through tasks in order to pay for more gacha draws and other items, and as far as I can tell you can access the main story and the other parts of the game without hitting a paywall. I only got to the fourth chapter so far though so don’t take this assessment as gospel. Like with a lot of other freemium games you might feel pressured to pay (especially when you run out of gifts to give your lover boys, which was the biggest downer for me, or if you’re obsessed with wanting to collect a lot of cards or get a specific card) but since you don’t actually need to pay to progress I still consider it free.

There’s also an energy system where you hit a wall and have to wait if you run out, but I never ran out because of the huge amount of energy the game dumps on you when you first start, and it seems like there are a bunch of other ways to get extra energy as well. There also aren’t pop-up or watch-to-earn ads in this game that I saw.

💀 Features

Main visual novel scenes and storyline (the visual novel scenes come between dance battle stages and there are a few short side routes that branch off but still one main route as far as I can tell, I don’t think your dialog choices really make a different except for in how the characters react to you immediately afterward. Still the main storyline in itself is fun to follow and it’s fun to get different reactions out of the characters based on what you say)

Dance battles (I’m not fully knowledgeable about the minutia of the RPG system at play here but in general the outcome of the battle will depend on the level, rank and attributes of your cards compared against the difficulty and attributes of the stage you’re playing. There also “memory cards” that can be assigned to support your team and expendable temporary boosters called “glow sticks” that boost your stats for one battle. During the battle itself you tap hearts that appear to earn extra points and you can tap your characters when their power is charged up to “attack” your opponent and use special skills. There are guides online that go deeper into stats and strategies and such if you’re interested. Different stages have different rewards for completion and you can quick complete levels you’ve already beaten to mine resources you need)

Gacha mechanic and cards (the gacha area of this game is called “Nightmare” and there are a few different pools along with event pools each with their own odds and sets of cards you can get. For the default pools you get free draws periodically and I believe you get one free draw for each event pool IIRC. You also get a bunch of vouchers for draws when you first start the game which got me handful of SSRs and a couple URs to build a couple of solid teams right off the bat. In addition to drawing directly from gacha pools you can get some cards by collecting card pieces as rewards from stages and events until you have enough to get the actual card. Each card has its own set of stats/attributes, can be leveled up and has a skill tree of sorts that can be progressed through with resources mined through beating stages, although it’s more of an attribute tree than a skill tree since most of the branches just add points onto one of your card’s attributes. Some cards, the rarer ones, have special skills that can be used in battle)

One-on-one characters interactions and intimacy i.e. the “dating” part (there are two ways this occurs: 1) you can set a specific character to your home screen that allows you to enter into an interaction with them, with a refresh period in between interactions 2) the main way, which is through “surprise guests” after dance battles. These surprise guests show up frequently but not always, and they’re always one of the three team members you used in battle, selected randomly. For each one-on-one interaction you can do three actions - either give a gift, touch the character or ignore the character. Sometimes the character will also offer you a high five which counts as an action if you oblige. Different characters have different favorite gifts and touching different parts of the body can get a different reaction depending on the character and your level of intimacy I believe. Your intimacy level with a character increases depending on the combination of actions you perform, and sometimes the character also gives you gifts back like more energy or resources. There are guides for this online as well)

Text messages and phone calls (text messages are the main mode of storytelling outside of the main VN scenes - you get messages from characters or multiple characters in group chats that you respond to with preset messages or stickers similar to how you make choices during the VN parts. Some of the text messages correspond with the main plot as you progress, ex. A character texts you to be in a certain place at a certain time and next VN scene is of you two meeting at that place. I think other text messages also come up when you reach certain intimacy levels with characters. There are certain group messages that you don’t respond to where you’re basically spying on a group chat among characters and just get to see what everyone’s saying. In addition to written messages and emoji stickers characters will also sometimes send pictures. Phone calls are fully voice-acted dialog you have with another character and they seem to pop up when you reach certain intimacy levels - I’ve only gotten ones so far with the two characters I have the highest intimacy with)

Instagram spoof/“Devilgram” (Devilgram is an in-game photo sharing social media app similar to Instagram and the photos on there correspond to gacha cards. When you acquire the gacha card that corresponds to a Devilgram post you unlock a side story, but you also need keys to unlock further scenes from that story, which can be gradually earned through completing tasks and such)

To Do tasks (completing tasks on your To Do is the main way to earn premium currency in the game along with other rewards and resources. There are daily tasks, overall tasks and tasks specific to each character. Examples of tasks are completing a certain stage or number of stages, beating a stage using a team that includes a certain character or reaching a certain intimacy level with a character. There are also beginner missions when you start the game that I think stay available until you complete all of them)

Events (there are sometimes side story events called “pop quizzes” and gacha events that are available for a limited time, or sometimes an event has both a corresponding pop quiz and gacha pool. The pop quizzes are separate chapters with their own dance battles and VN scenes, and the battles will come with reward points that you can spend on different prizes. Sometimes there are unique cards you can only get from an event. Other minor types of events include log-in bonus events and events where you can get special types of gifts for your love interests. There’s also a feature where you can “time-travel” back to old events at some cost but I haven’t explored this much)

Jobs (you can assign characters to passively complete jobs that earn you a small amount of non-premium currency over time and also increases your intimacy with the assigned characters by a small amount)

Customization (you can unlock avatars of different characters to use for your profile and set the name you want characters to refer to you by throughout the game. You can also change the outfit of your homescreen character, change the homescreen wallpaper and change the homescreen background music by making purchases in the Akuzon shop or acquiring certain gacha cards)

⚖️ Ad Honesty Rating: 4/5 (just from the ads I’ve seen, especially the ones that appear to be running currently, there don’t seem to be blatantly fake ads and the ads show real art and do well conveying the theme and characters in the game. However some of the ads are misleading about the actual mechanics of gameplay and may also lead you to believe there are actual romance routes with the characters which is not really the case)

⭐️ Overall Rating: 5/5 (I definitely didn’t want to give this game a great rating just because it’s super popular on Tumblr but I can definitely see why it’s so popular. There are lots of things to do, the characters are very lovable, it’s funny, the art is great, the music is great and the lore and overall vibe are compelling and unique. It’s a high-quality game with a good story and I’ll probably keep playing it)

▶️ Ad Example:

▶️ Gameplay Examples:

Dance Battles

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Surprise Guest

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If you got through this review bless your heart ❤️ Special thanks to @human-watching-ads-from-devildom which is where I was able to view some of the ads since I was having trouble finding them elsewhere online and viewing some of them on the Facebook ad library.

Follow me for more reviews of those free mobile games you’re always getting ads for! Thanks for reading! 🥳

#obey me #obey me shall we date #otome games #gacha games #visual novels #full review #anime games #rpg #dating simulation games #romance games #war and peace but it’s just a review of a mobile game #sorry if there are typos or mistakes

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fallenhero-rebirth · 4 years

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Brain update

First, let me say that this isn't about what anybody has done. My reactions are not in proportion to anything that has happened, and might be considered odd, weird and sensitive to people involved.

So let me explain.

I'm an Aspie (what we call ourselves in Sweden), on the autism spectrum. Yeah, might have guessed that from the story I'm writing, Sidestep is not the only one trying to figure out how people work.

Over the years I have built up an arsenal of knowledge and analysis to be able to pretend to be neurotypical, something that I can manage alright most days, but which breaks down once you get to know me better. I'm open with this at my current job, and luckily both my bosses seem to be okay dealing with open communication and just telling me what I need to do.

It was not always like this, and that is one of the reasons why I had a breakdown and needed to get off discord/tumblr.

Back in the late nineties, I had finally got my dream job. I was a product developer in the food industry, part of a rather small department of middle-class academics. I was the new hire, everyone else had worked there for years, and things were going well. Or so I assumed. I got cool projects, got along well with one of the sales people, and well, my boss was weird but bosses always are.

Three years later. Our parent company wanted to sell us off, everyone was starting to get worried about their job. We tried to expand into things were weren't equipped to do (you don't bring spices into a fruit jam line, will be hell to clean) and while I did the projects, I also raised an (in retrospect) too big stink about the fact that we were wasting time developing things we couldn't produce without expanding. My boss (who I had learned was a devout christian) started to get really weird, I got called in and he wondered if I was a member of a cult (I was often wearing a headscarf at the time because pressure on my head is good for stress relief). I also got told off for wearing army boots to work (we had lab shoes in the lab), because (I kid you not) if we had danish visitors to the lab (we didn't have visitors) they could be offended since they had once been occupied by Nazis. Yes, at the time I was an Antifa metalhead/satanist, it was a very volatile time in sweden and nazis were everywhere. Now they're a political party, go figure.

It all came to a head when I was confronted with a folder one of the secretaries of the department had where she had written down every odd and strange thing that I did, and there were a lot of accusations of things I quite frankly blocked out. Around this time I was suffering from bad burnout, had memory loss, my hair was falling out and I lost two bikes because I forgot where I parked them. All because of workplace hostility.

So for the first time ever, I went to the company doctor, who immediately sent me on a one month sick leave, and gave a reference to a therapist. When I went and told my boss, his reaction was "It can't be anything at work," in a dismissive tone. I wrote my resignation right then and there, left the building, snuck back a Saturday to clean out my stuff so I didn't have to meet anyone. Luckily I was backed up by my union, so I got unemployment despite quitting, and the therapist helped me get back on my feet and hook me up with some antidepressants.

Still, I was a wreck for years.

At the time, I had NO idea I was an Aspie. It weren't talked about, the only thing I knew about Autism, was from the various portrayals in movies, and well, in the nineties you can guess. Rainman pretty much was it.

What destroyed me the most was not that people disliked me, I didn't like them either, we didn't have anything in common, and middle-class people always scared me. No, what broke me was the fact that my system failed.

See, I had built up myself over ten years into someone I wanted to be. Smart. Capable. Metalhead. Researcher. Activist. I thought I knew the rules. How to interact.

It turned out I knew nothing. People had been talking behind my back for years, and I didn't know. Getting annoyed by my ticks, and I had no idea. Nobody ever brought anything up to my face until it exploded one day out of the blue. This is why I have ranted about anons on this tumblr. This is why I have been so openly against passive aggressive posts and bullying, especially the anonymous kind, because it destroys people and I don't think the people who does it knows the impact they can have. I hope they don't.

I have never gone back to the lab. I can't. I'm having heart palpitations just thinking about it when I'm writing this. I retrained. Became a machinist. Back to the working class I came from. Eventually started writing.

And this is exactly what these last months have felt like.

I thought I understood things. I was pretty open with being old, an Aspie, not understanding memes, or humor, or tik tok, or certain aspects of people's behavior like jealousy, but the problem with joking about this is that it's so easy to take as just a joke. That I'm just making fun of myself (oh it's that too). I got advice from some of you, which I ignored, because I thought that I could be different. That there was no danger in getting close. That I could be just another voice in the crowd. An occasionally evil avocado. That this couldn't blow up in my face, that everything was cool.

And then it did. And I was wrong. And the talking started, and things were coming out that I had no idea that was going on. That I was being held responsible for. Opinions that were spoken in my name. Events I was supposed to have been aware of and supported. All of a sudden I was omniscient, aware of the true passive aggressive meaning of every reblog, aware of every post in every room in the discord I wasn't even running. Wasn't even a mod on. All of a sudden I had power, and I had used it to hurt people. The people I cared about. Everything I wrote was taken in the worst possible way, twisted into things I never meant, and the more I tried to talk to people, the worse it went.

Look. I know this was at heart a war between people that just doesn't like each other and the things they do/the ways they behave. I'm still not entirely sure who's been involved, and I'm not interested in finding out. I tried to build a supportive space, reblog everyone's art and fics, encourage people to make their own things, get a kofi, get some money, make some friends.

And herein lies my problem.

I thought I understood how to be, and now I don't. I have no idea who hates my guts and who doesn't (well, except some who has very vocally let me know). I can't trust anything. I can't trust anyone. And it sucks. Someone I trusted stabbed be in the back because they were convinced I stabbed them in the back and that sucks more than I can describe. Every time I make a comment on AO3 or twitter it's after psyching myself up for half an hour, and I'm usually a wreck afterwards, because my brain doesn't know if they hate me too, and if I am imposing on them and making their day bad.

So yeah. I need to figure out how to be. How not to have a nausea attack every time I accidentally click open tumblr from pure reflex, looking away from the screen just not to see how may messages I have.

I never wanted to be the aloof author, but maybe I have to be. The question is if I can. I have been told I can't comment on pics or fics, because then I have favorites. And that makes people jealous. And it makes people think I take sides. I have been told I can't be on the discord, because then I will be held responsible for what the mods do there, and everything that's said even when I'm not around. I should apparently have someone manage the tumblr, it's not something that I, an author should do.

I now understand the authors who just stay away and remain distant, because people give themselves the power to write the narrative for you.

Part of me wants to tell people what I've told my current bosses, don't assume, just talk to me. I don't pick up/do passive aggression, I don't understand hints, I have trouble with nuance, I don't listen to gossip, I don't interact enough to know anything that's going on. Just ask before assuming.

Except that right now I can't. I can't talk about any of this. It's too close. It sets me off. It's getting better, sure, I'm on medication again, but the smallest thing still can ruin my entire day. I have no idea how long it will take me to recover and come back to some semblance of normality. I'm not posting this myself (my partner does). Writing is going well, because it lets me not be myself. I need those walls again. The therapy of writing about pain.

I'll rebuild them. I'm not entirely sure who I'll be on the other end of it. We'll see.

I have consciously not spoken about any details because those could be misunderstood, this is not a passive aggressive callout to anybody. I have no hard feelings towards anyone, I am not angry or upset, just confused and sad. I am truly so very, very, very sorry that I've hurt people, both by action and inaction. It was never my intention. I will do my best to do better in the future.

Still working on how to do that.

#personal

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deathisanartmetzli · 3 years

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Cabin in the Woods || Eilidh & Metzli

TIMING: Current, at night

PARTIES: @BRAINDEACL @DEATHISANARTMETZLI

SUMMARY: Metzli goes on the hunt for some vampires, and Macleod joins in on the fun.

CONTAINS: Domestic abuse, Emotional Abuse, Gore

Despite Metzli’s best efforts to quash any sense of anxiety that built up like a mountain on their chest, the pressure only seemed to build. After the pleasurable moments of distraction, laying in the dirt, surrounded by nature, they wished they could go back to that. Laying there with Eilidh was easy, it felt like it was a grace to not linger like a tragedy in slow motion, or a heartbreak set on pause. They walked next to Eilidh, tracking the scent of the vampires. It started so faint, and within an hour, it had thickened and spread around.

Eloy would inevitably find Metzli, even if they took out the vampires they were attempting to find. They were just prolonging the ending they already played in their head on repeat. Like a video cassette they kept rewinding of a movie that had not even been made yet. But they persisted, and used the martial arts approach to protecting their world. Fear and anger were their self defense as they disregarded the cost of going against their once master. No running, just going forward to protect. Because nothing was more precious. It was priceless. It was their home.

“The scent is overwhelming all around. They must scavenge and frequent this whole area. How do you feel about splitting up? The scent is pretty evenly coated and has been for the last few hundred paces.” Metzli explained and looked towards Eilidh, who was only a foot away. “What do you think?”

The trees watched them transgress in their territory. Gaze always, usually, a comfort for as long as Eilidh could remember. And they had felt as such, only moments prior. In those pleasant pauses. But now their presence felt scrutinizing. Tainted by the tense energy in air, radiating off Metzli. Bouncing off that bark, ricocheting down on Eilidh. She watched them with a hidden caution. Their high nerves concealed with a stoned expression. But every box got its leaks. She saw those tremors in hands, those strained breaths in chest. Soldier set to war. Without a choice but to move forward into certain peril. Eilidh had that choice, but she matched those dreaded steps. Hers tensed with anger and a hunger to rip and shred. Send those sources of anxiety to floor in tattered bits—reduced to confetti. And to sprinkles down her throat.

Eilidh saw those nose twitches. At first light but sent to frenzy as unseen predators grew closer. Her own stayed still—unaware of any approaching danger. Her mouth twitched instead, turned to grin. “Like I said. You go right. I go left.” Eyes went to that chosen destination. Only darkness met them, but mind filled in the blanks. Placed those hidden enemies in sights. Sent her hand a twitch in anticipation. Her chest rumbling in hunger. Her attentions went back to Metzli for a moment. Enough to spare a parting kiss. And to press her hand on their chest. To that concealed gift—necklace with a black pendant. A bit off her thigh providing color. Used as both beacon and reminder. That she’ll always be close, even now, when she turned and raced off into the woods. Before the darkness took her, she shouted behind. “Don’t let ‘em kill you! I’ll be pissed!”

It felt strange to receive a tender kiss from someone who used so much force, so much passion. Eilidh had given them a gift, one they were told to keep on in case of any danger. James, the ghost bound to her, who seemed antsy when they presented red eyes and fangs, he would be their walkie talkie of sorts. A piece of her attached to them so he could aid them in their search. “No promises!” Metzli responded just as loudly, and with as much light energy as they could muster. Eilidh faded into the trees, and they watched for a few moments before they turned around and continued down their chosen path. Blood and death overflowed from every tree, meaning that the clan members had been around long enough to hunt several times. That didn’t sit right with them in the slightest.

“So how long have you been, uh, dead? I think I’m going on 110 years or so. Kinda lost track.” Metzli asked awkwardly, not knowing how to talk to someone who they didn’t know and seemed to get nervous at any signs of their vampirism.

James watched Eilidh disappear. Despite the lack of visual, he knew where she journeyed. Not a feeling or a thought. But something even deeper. Like he was a passenger in her mind. His attentions shifted and felt that knowing grow quiet but not disappear. Eyes went to one more tangible, to the one called Metzli. He knew nothing but stories. But the way Eilidh described them, the way her eyes lit up. It was in the way when she found others with that ‘touch of the wild’ as she so called it. And it made him on edge. While he lacked any sort of flesh and blood the vampire could attack, he tensed. For his body remembered, despite his true one having rotted to nothing long ago. And he tried to bury this concern, like that old body. But Metzli would not let the thought of death escape him. There was a following silence as he gawked at them. “Um. That’s not really a conversational topic I start with…” His arms crossed against his chest, as if that incorporeal barrier could do anything.

Face grew dark and tense as leaves and twigs crunched, marking every step they took. There was no avoiding it, but it made them flinch every time. Giving away their position would prove fatal, but the area was chosen for that reason. Keen hearing was not only their ally, but their enemy too. Metzli trudged on for about twenty minutes, following tracks and carcasses that grew in number. Meaning, they were getting closer. Their phone vibrated with notifications, and they removed it from their pocket to see a few messages. Feet continued to move while they were distracted by the screen and James’ incoming answer. “Sorry. I’m not good at conversation starters. I figured it was fine, you know? Death, and me being a vampire. I mean, vampires are vicious, but you like Milo and he attacked our friend Bex the other day. But like she’s fine and—” They gave an update until their peripherals caught sight of an anomaly. A cabin. “Que suerte...”

James wanted to leave. Not that Eilidh was particularly better in regard to source of his anxieties. But she was a monster he knew well—knew how to talk to. And had grown to care for, despite his better judgement. And he had grown to care for Milo as well with a hope he could escape that nature. Young and new with the thought of humanity still fresh on his mind. But the news broke that illusion. Not immediately, only a crack at first. Denial trying to keep the wall up. Mind went blank. Then it was all too much. “What… what? No. He- No he didn’t.” He stammered, something of a laugh on his lips though he felt no amusement. Mouth couldn’t form words just as mind couldn’t form thoughts. Sailboat lost to a raging sea. Trying to steer clear, but he was close to drowning. Before he could be swept under, before that wall could break—he vanished.

Eyes were transfixed by the cabin, by the sheer amount of death permeating from within. Even with blurred sight from distraction, they could see James on the other side of their peripherals, he was saying something but they couldn’t make out what. There had to be at least six vampires within the residence, and that took precedence over his sudden disappearance. While their fingers hovered over the screen of their phone, something knocked them down. Someone.

Phone flew several feet away, but that wasn’t important now. A whistle of alarm reverberated against the trees, and Metzli pulled out a stake from their side and plunged it into the vampire, killing him and cutting the whistle short. It was too late though, and they could hear a door break open. Gaze locked onto four vampires sprinting from the cabin straight for them. Matching their vigor, Metzli booked it towards one and plunged the stake into her chest. Another one down. Only five more to go. The three that were left leapt for them, trying to overwhelm them. It worked, but by some miracle, the stake plunged into yet another chest, leaving only two to land punch after punch on them.

Two more vampires stepped out from the cabin, and Metzli was forced to watch as a familiar face got dangerously close to theirs. Fighting back was futile while their head was being held up by their hair and their arms were locked behind them. “Hola Metzli. Hace mucho tiempo.” Tremors overtook their body as they stared right into the vampire’s eyes. The vampire who was their partner when it came to protecting Eloy. “Chinga tu pinche madre, Anselmo.” They spat through gritted teeth, right before a bone crunching punch to the face.

Blip! Blink of an eye, James was back. Face still contorted as mind could not see past that unresolved conversation. That wall gaining new cracks—close to shattering. “Was that just a, um, weird joke or something because I didn’t think it was funny and I’d really like it if you- Oh!” More eyes than expected were watching him. He stared with just his two. Then vanished again.

Another punch landed onto their face, and Anselmo laughed. “Did you really think you could run away? Did you really think Master Eloy would let you go?” Metzli locked eyes with the vampire and spat at him. Black blood spattered over his face and rage filled his eyes. “Fuck you, and fuck Eloy!” Metzli retaliated, lunging forward and breaking the grasp that held their hair. Forehead met nose and Anselmo screamed in agitation. Using the moment of distraction, they grabbed the stake from the ground and took out yet another vampire. Three left to go. But just as the point rushed around to make impact with the other, Anselmo’s hand wrapped around Metzli’s, giving him the chance to throw them on the ground.

Their face hurt, and the pain spread throughout their body as he pinned them down and attacked their throat. Red eyes locked only momentarily right before teeth sank in, threatening to dig deeper. Deeper and deeper, Anselmo attempted to sever the attachment their head held onto their body. Metzli was going to break their promise. The fear of that grew as their strength depleted, unable to make their arms do anything. They had taken too much damage, they needed blood.

The scent of death was potent. But there was one who did not match. A flat note in the choir. And growing louder. Closer. Threatening to ruin the whole show. But the show only faltered for a moment, something of a reprieve found in their brief consideration. Barely a murmur was uttered—something deeper transpired between the vampires. An understanding was found in that veiled conference, quick and efficient to not distract from the main course. Not a moment wasted, Anselmo simply waved a vampire off before following that motion down into a strike upon Metzli. The chosen protector, or chosen sacrifice depending on the point-of-view, followed that clashing note. Foxhound on the fox. But this fox knew how to bite back. And when he found the source of distraction, woman with the chattering teeth, he came to understand just how hard.

Eilidh threw the stake in her hand. It whistled through the air, ending in a meaty thud. Coming to a quick stop inside the vampire’s chest. He had only a second to stare at her in confusion before crumpling. Dead. Stride merely slowing, Eilidh fished out the stake from his remains. Then regained her former speed, as inhuman as the glint in her eyes. Feet beat fast but light on the ground. If she was devoid of that telling scent she may have been able to ambush. But they would be waiting for her, she was sure of it. She had known even before the encounter in the woods. But time and experience had revealed tricks against that pesky disadvantage.

As that foreign scent became church bells, all those bloodthirsty eyes turned to meet it. Something humanoid, something familiar, was the expectation. A known enemy they had all replayed in their minds killing with a familiarity. What stood at the treeline had the shape of a human. Kind of. If the outline had been filled with static. The touch of mundanity made where it differed all the more jarring. All parties stood still. Until a single “¡¿Que demonios es eso?!” broke them out that trance. One vampire ran to meet the thing in the woods. But his pace was weighed with hesitation: could this thing even be killed? Eilidh rumbled with a metallic shriek—undecided form convulsing in beat. And when her arm struck out to stake this one’s chest, it looked more tree than limb. He fell as fast as the one in the woods. Returned to the Earth.

Anselmo laughed as weak arms could not grip, could not gather enough leverage to shove him off. Photos were taken unbeknownst to them, and sent off. Evidence of their struggle. Metzli grew worried that they wouldn’t be able to manage. People have hope because they cannot see death standing behind them. But not Metzli. Their eyes had been ingrained on death’s visage, losing all hope in the process. Never fearing death because it was the one thing they could count on. But White Crest had given them everything they needed to want to look away from those hollow eyes. And as reality settled in, darkness consumed their sight. A muffled and distant voice growled. Eilidh’s scent filled their nose. Metzli began to imagine what hope would feel like. And wish that they had never looked death in the eyes. That way, they could be blissfully unaware. So they didn’t have to feel, for the very first time, the fear of dying.

The punching and biting ceased as Anselmo and two other vampires Metzli didn’t notice before, looked towards Eilidh. What they believed to be Eilidh. A sharp pain caused them to groan, and even through hazy vision, they could see two knives inside of their torso. Anselmo rose off of them and leered at the crazed undead creature before him. His body was rigid, unsure what to make of the foul thing before him. This was the break Metzli needed. Looking down at the knives, they attempted to raise their arms, which were feeling like they weighed tons. And then, one of the knives came into focus. It was their old knife. The one Eloy made for them. The one they used to fight with.

Anger surfaced onto Metzli’s face and a newfound resolve formed in their chest. Fighting against the hunger and pain, they removed the knives jutting out of them, and rose to their stumbling feet, tackling Anselmo to the ground. Fangs and knife pierced skin. A foul taste filled their mouth, but they didn’t care. All that mattered were the screams of pain and the knife that plunged into Anselmo over and over again until he knocked them back, looming over them to once again gain the upper hand.

Another quickly took her opponent's place, but this vampire was faster than that amalgamated arm. Ensnaring Eilidh in her grip. Hands grappled hands, grappled bodies. Her stake tumbled to the grass in the fervorous skirmish. A third noticed the vulnerability, and made quick to exploit. Rushing into the fray, two against one. But it was actually two against two. The second was enveloped in a strange feeling. A foreign pressure. A lingering cold. Enough to preoccupy for mere seconds, but each counted in a fight. Eilidh shifted her weight, brought that first opponent—still trapped in each other’s holds—closer to chattering teeth. And they did as nature intended. Bit and tear. Severing any connection her nose had to her face. It too tumbling into the grass. Overwhelmed with pain, enough constitution was lost to let Eilidh get closer. And those bloodied teeth found her neck. And bit equally as hard. With mouth at work, Eilidh’s hand was free to slip up skirt. Gripping tight a silver dagger. Blade met the vampire’s neck on opposite side, until her incisors and metal joined in the middle.

With a twitch, Eilidh severed the last remaining tendons connecting neck to torso. The head rolled off with ease, joining its nose on the ground. James’ trick had gone stale and the third vampire was ready to try his chances. Eyes free from the glaze of distraction, completely locked on her. But her own was placed elsewhere, far away. To the confrontation between Metzli and that stranger. She didn’t like how Metzli looked. She didn’t like how this man looked at them. Not one fucking bit. A snarl burned in her throat, but it sounded like chainsaws to any near. The vampire closest tried to be a substitute for her broiling anger. He pounced at her, but she simply shoved him into the dirt. Hardly a thought to make sure he wasn’t following when she rushed to the distant altercation. Before the stranger was able to fully turn, confront that approaching death, she leapt onto his exposed back. Arms looping around his shoulders—stifling any movement. He bucked and shrieked like a wild stallion, but she had encountered worse. Those arms only grew tighter. Teeth tried to find that neck, but it jerked out of hold. Accidentally meeting an ear instead. Incisors latched on anyway, ripping off the flesh and cartilage. The shrieking grew louder. Her own primal sounds filled that air, in lieu of words. Mind having no room to translate. But there was still an intention in each grunt. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.

Wide eyes stared as Anselmo could no longer move. Eilidh’s firm and powerful grasp held him in place and he wailed in agony as a piece of him was torn away. “M-Macleod...I—” Metzli shook uncontrollably. Understanding washed over their face, but they couldn’t move, couldn’t force their body to lunge forward with the knife in their hand. A slippery grip tightened around it, beckoning them to do it. To kill their partner of thirty years. The very partner who had sworn to protect their abuser with them. No more. Those days were over and a new one was on the horizon. Finding the motivation, they rose to their feet, only swaying slightly.

“Todo lo que nos enseño Eloy fue malo. Y ahora, voy cambiar a todo.” The knife plunged into the center of Anselmo’s chest and he gasped with the widest eyes. His eyes met with Metzli’s for a split moment before he crumbled into nothing. As pieces of him fell, so too did Metzli. A hand reached out for Eilidh, but contact was never made. Their body gave way to the crushing pain, forcing them to the ground. Neck revealed the damage, the death they almost met. Black liquid stained their skin.

In spite of the overwhelming agony, a weight was lifted, and a piece of them felt free. “Thanks Mac—” Their hand reached out but fell to the ground as spots of black coated everything in sight. “Need blood.” Metzli’s voice was hoarse, throat dry from the urgent need of sustenance. Their body went rigid, as still as a statue while their body began to render itself into a comatose state of preservation.

They crumbled into her arms, and Eilidh instinctively covered that battered body with her own. Eyes surveying the suspicious quiet. She knew there were others. The one she had shoved no longer lay in the dirt. But he seemed to lay no where, absent entirely. Somewhere. Anywhere. Who knew how many were like that, in an unknown somewhere. Waiting to come back. Or waiting for her to find them. Have them join the others in that growing pile of ash. She lacked any innate warning signals—relying on average ears and eyes. And they both revealed nothing, except a peace she did not trust. And this unknowing would be fine—mysteries a commonality in her life—if she did not have two tasks at hand. Protecting and feeding. To hunt would leave Metzli exposed; to guard would leave them to starve. And either would benefit from knowing where the fuck anyone was. So, divide and conquer.

Eilidh called to James, meaning to do so in words but only squawks came out. He understood regardless—even a simple look would’ve sufficed. In his own look, there was a creeping tension. Formed deeper lines and tighter jaw the closer he got to Metzli. In another state of mind, she would have the thought to wonder. To decipher those subtle flinches and squirming. To find what hid in each wrinkle, each twitch—a practice she was good enough to be tenured. But that was too much thinking and not enough doing. He was where she needed him to be and that’s all that registered. With that confirmation, she returned to the woods. Leaving James with Metzli and a strange sense of déjà vu.

Minutes passed before Eilidh’s return. Sporting a fresh layer of crimson on her hands and face. The body she carried too covered in fresh blood. Though it only met their paws, head no longer present. Torn away by ravaging bites. Enough to appease her hunger, to allow herself to do away with the kill. Though a part did want to hesitate, to consume the coyote in entirety. But seeing Metzli again, remembering in clarity their state. It appealed to something deep inside her. It told the hesitation to fuck off. She dropped the corpse near Metzli without a second thought. Remembering how to speak, she uttered a single word. “Eat.”

Obediently and with some difficulty, Metzli navigated their body to the coyote, consumed by the ravenous need to eat. When the blood hit their tongue, a feral fervor took control and fangs pierced the corpse, draining it quickly. It tasted better than usual, and they supposed starvation would do that to just about anything. At this state, Metzli would even drink from a werewolf.

No longer able to get another drop, fangs retracted and their body was upright once again. Now on auto-pilot, Metzli took steps that teetered to one side, but they remained standing. “There might be others. We—I—” Eyes tightened shut, trying to relieve any residual dizziness. “Hunt for food. Then hunt for stragglers.” Voice was vacant of their personality, laser-focused on finishing the job thoroughly.

“Thank you, Macleod,” A mutter, but not too low so that it went unheard. Grass depressed underneath their feet as they reached Eilidh to leave a bloody kiss on her cheek. “I will find a way to repay you. For now, let's search together. No splitting up. Not this time.” Crimson eyes locked with Eilidh’s briefly before turning and limping softly in their chosen direction, waiting for her to follow and finally put an end to the encounter.

#wickedswriting #eilidh and metzli #chatzy #domestic abuse tw #emotional abuse tw #gore tw

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talatomaz · 4 years

Text

shadow world | izzy lightwood x fray!reader

a/n: I just binged the series and I love Izzy sm. i might make this into a small series, I don’t know. this is mainly shadowhunters x reader tbh but there is still a bit of izzy content towards the end.

warnings: mentions of blood, death & kidnapping

word count: 2.5k

masterlist | navigation | request rules

pt.i | pt.ii | pt.iii

Reader is Clary’s younger half-sister who learns about the Shadow world at the same time Clary does

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

“Hey, Dad.”

“Afternoon, honey.”

You kissed your father’s cheek and welcomed the cup of coffee he placed in front of you. You sipped the beverage, not caring that it was still hot, welcoming the feeling. You had had a relatively long day. You had to do 2 huge group presentations and managed to complete your college’s weekly newsletter too.

“How was school?”

“It was okay, just glad it’s the weekend now.”

“Have you called your sister yet?”

You paused, gently placing the mug back on the table. It was your older sister’s, Clary’s, 18th birthday today. Though it was an important age, the day wasn’t going to be any different for you. As you always did, you’d FaceTime her, wish her a happy birthday and wait for your gift to arrive to her.

That was the trouble of living on the other side of the world.

When you were 13, you decided to leave your mother and sister to go live with your father who worked overseas in England; he worked for the Government, but doing what precisely, you didn’t know.

It was a welcome change. You didn’t get along as well as Clary did with your mother, often siding with your father on most things.

Of course, when it came to you and Clary, your father treated you both no differently, because even though he wasn’t Clary’s biological father, he was still one of her father figures.

The other was Luke, someone whom your Mum had a past with, though she neglected to share any further details about that.

“I spoke to her earlier but she’d just come out of an interview with Brooklyn Arts Academy. We celebrated a little because she got in but she’s gonna be busy with Simon today so we agreed to talk later.”

“Oh, good for her. I’m glad.”

You looked up when you heard unease in your father’s voice. Narrowing your eyes, you continued to stare at him before he looked at you in confusion.

“What?”

“Nothing. Doesn’t matter.”

You quickly brushed off the subject and your dad started to mention how he had to work late but voiced his reluctance to leave you alone. You frowned once more, he seemed really worried, as if something evil was looming. Shrugging it off once more, you and your father fell into a conversation about nothing in particular until he had to leave for work.

A few hours had passed and you were due to call Clary so you picked up your phone and dialled.

“Y/N, hey, um, can we talk later?”

You moved the phone away from your ear as you heard loud music blasting down the phone.

“Are you at a club? Clary, you know being 18 means you can only legally drink in England, not in the US.” You joked.

“I know. Look, I really have to go. I love you and I’ll try to phone you in a bit. I’m on my way home now. I need to speak to Mum about something.”

“Clary, are you okay?” You asked with concern. She sounded frightened and out of breath and her being in a club was very out of character for her.

“Yeah, yeah, I-I’m fine. Got to go. Love you, bye.”

You stared at your phone, the dial tone echoing in the silence. Sighing, you scrolled through your contacts and paused at the name. With a rush of confidence, you tapped the screen and held your phone to your ear, silently waiting for the other person to pick up.

“Y/N, hi, baby.”

“Hi, Mum.”

You were slightly on edge as you hadn’t spoken in a while. You knew your mother loved you but you always felt like she was hiding something from you, though you could never quite put your finger on it.

“Are you okay?”

“Um, yeah. Listen, the reason I’m calling is because I just got off the phone with Clary and, I don’t know, she’s acting a bit weird. Is there something going on?”

“Yeah about that, your father and I need to have a talk with you and Clary. This isn’t something I wanted to do over the phone but-MOM.”

You winced when you heard, presumably Clary’s voice.

“Clary, what’s wrong? Y/N, give me 10 minutes and I’ll call you back. I love you.”

For the second time in 5 minutes, you had been hung up on, and frankly you were more concerned than you were annoyed. First your Dad, then Clary, now your Mum, what were they hiding?

The sound of key in the door jarred you from your thoughts. Finally, your Dad was home. You were going to get some answers.

As he locked the door behind him, your brows furrowed as you looked at the tattoos on his body. They weren’t there when he’d left earlier this afternoon.

“Dad, when did you get a tattoo?”

You watched as he looked down at himself and then as his eyes widened when he stared back at you.

“Y-You can see them?”

“Yeah, of course, I can see them. What’s going on? Clary’s freaking out. I just called Mum and she was about to tell me something but then she hung up. What is going on?” You repeated.

“God, I told Jocelyn we should have told you both sooner. We need to get you somewhere safe.”

“Dad, what’s happening?” You asked, unable to hide the fear in your tone.

Before he could answer, there was a loud crash and your front door lay flat on the ground, a man standing in the doorway.

“Where’s the cup, Winterthorn?” He hissed your father’s last name.

Your Dad pushed you behind him and you could only watch in shock when he pulled something out of his pocket and, the moment his hand touched it, a large blade engulfed in light appeared. Your father stabbed the intruder with it causing the latter to explode into pieces and disappear.

Your dad turned to face you and you continued to stare at him in shock.

“Here, hold this.”

He handed you the blade and ran towards your bedroom. The smell of smoke filled your senses and you stared at him.

“What the hell is happening?”

“There can’t be any trace of you. We were trying to keep you girls safe. That’s all we ever wanted.”

You opened your mouth to respond but felt yourself being pulled back into someone’s grasp.

“Let her go.”

“Give me the cup.”

With your father’s blade still in your hand, you willed yourself to calm down and remember your training.

From the first moment you moved in with your dad, he expressed his interest in training you to fight. You learned all about Sun Tzu as well as training with bo staffs and the like.

You were successfully able to remove yourself from the second intruder’s grasp but jumped back when his face opened up to reveal tentacles. Going off instinct and what you saw your dad do, you rammed the sword through the monster’s chest until it disintegrated like the one earlier.

“Dad, what the fuck?! I just killed someone.”

“A demon, y/n. You killed a demon.”

Your father grabbed your arm and brought out, what looked like, a pen, and began drawing something. You winced as you felt it burning into your skin and when he had finished, he waved the object over the marking and it lit up.

“This better work. Come on, we need to find a warlock so we can get to your Mum and sister.”

When he turned, another man was revealed to be standing in front of him. You watched in horror as the man stabbed your dad with his sword and then removed it. Your father fell to the ground with a groan, your eyes flickering to him and then at the man still standing in front of you.

“Where is the cup?”

He was now the third person to reference this mysterious cup but you were beyond confused.

He pushed you against the wall and held the sword, now coated with your father’s blood, against your neck.

“Tell me.”

“I-I don’t know. You stabbed him, you bastard.”

“Valentine will do much worse to you and your mother if you don’t tell me where the cup is.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? What cup? Who the hell are you people?” You shouted at him, tears building in your eyes.

When he smirked at you, you felt anger rise through your body and without a second thought, you kicked his knee, giving you a moment to free yourself, only slightly cutting yourself on the blade.

You quickly picked up your father’s blade, having dropped it when he was stabbed, and you began to fight the male in front of you.

For a few minutes, the only sound that filled your house was the clanging of your blades but you winced when the blade cut your arm, blood seeping from the wound. You ducked to avoid another swipe of the blade then you span and stabbed the man in one fell swoop.

As he lay dead on the ground, you kicked the blade away from him and, still holding your Dad’s weapon, you ran back to him and tried to put pressure on the wound.

“Dad, please stay with me. Don’t die.”

“I-I’m so proud of you.” He breathed out.

“Dad, it’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna get help.”

“Take the blade and m-my stele,” he handed you the object he used to mark the symbol on your skin. “Go to where I work, they’ll help you. Don’t let the Circle get the cup.”

“Dad! Dad, wake up!” You shouted, tears falling down your face as your father lay still in your arms.

“Y/N?”

You turned back, looking in shock when you saw your sister standing behind you, with two men and another woman beside her. More shockingly, you saw, what you could only describe as a purple glow, whirling behind them.

A raven-haired woman ran and fell to your side. You watched as she removed a stele from her pocket and waved it over one of your father’s tattoos.

“He’s gone.” She said, solemnly, looking at one of the males behind you who shared a striking resemblance with her, before looking at you with sad eyes.

“Izzy, we have to go. Come on. There could be more.”

She gently grabbed your arm and tried to pull you up but you stayed on the ground, your father in your arms.

“We have to go. It’s not safe.” She said, softly.

Reluctantly, you picked up the blade and your father’s stele, and allowed yourself to be lifted by the woman, whom you now knew was called Izzy. Holding your hand, she pulled you through the purple glow and when you passed through, you found yourself in...well, you didn’t know where exactly.

All conversation had ceased the moment you all had come through but then immediately continued. Through your tear-filled eyes, you looked around to take in your surroundings. The building you were in was filled to the brim with computers and all sorts of tech.

“What? Did you rob a tech store or something?”

“That’s what I said.”

You turned at the familiar voice and smiled despite the pain you were feeling.

“Hi, Simon.” He pulled you in for a hug and then cupped your face in his hands.

“What’s wrong? Why were you crying?”

“Simon-“ He was interrupted by your sister who moved to stand in front of you.

“I’m so sorry.” She wrapped her arms around you, cradling your head against her neck. You reciprocated the hug but didn’t cry, you felt nothing. You didn’t know how to process the loss.

“Where’s Mum? Ry?” You asked, using your sister’s nickname when she remained silent.

“She’s been kidnapped.”

“What?”

Clary then explained what she saw at the club, how someone called Valentine had kidnapped your mother and was after the Mortal Cup.

“That’s what the guys at our house wanted. But Dad and I killed them and they disappeared. Wait, why are we even here? We should be talking to Luke, he’ll help us.”

“No, we can’t trust him. This is Jace, Izzy and Alec. They’re Shadowhunters like us. They can help us.”

“Shadowhunters? What the hell are you on about?”

“We’re angels who fight demons.” Jace said.

“Look, I don’t know what you’ve been smoking but I am not an angel.”

“You’ve got a stele and a seraph blade. Things we Shadowhunters use.”

“I-These are my dad’s. He gave them to me when-before he-“ You sighed, unable to bring yourself to say the words.

“I’m sorry.” Simon rubbed your arm in a gentle caress but gasped when he saw his hand covered in blood.

“Y/N, your arm’s bleeding.”

You glanced at the wound, remembering that it was from the guy who killed your dad, and shrugged.

“And your neck.” Clary said, quietly, as if imagining what you went through.

”Jace, can you do the same healing rune on y/n?”

“Yeah, of course.”

When Jace approached you with his stele, you stopped him.

“No, I don’t want you to do that. I’m fine.”

“At least let Izzy stitch and clean the wound then.” Alec spoke for the first time. He was a bit stand-offish but that was to be expected considering you were complete strangers.

Izzy nodded for you to follow her. You walked beside her as she led you to a room filled with first-aid equipment.

You both sat in silence as she cleaned the cut on your neck; you didn’t even flinch when she rubbed the antiseptic on the wound.

When she was about to stitch the cut on your arm, you stopped her. You took the thread from her and began suturing the cut yourself. She looked at you in amazement.

“I do-did a lot of sports so I got hurt a lot.“ You answered even though she didn’t ask anything. She just continued to stare at you and you couldn’t help but blush which then made her smirk.

“You should have let Jace use a healing rune on you. You’re gonna need it sooner or later.”

“A rune? Is that what they’re called? My Dad did this just before he-“

You trailed off again, instead showing your forearm to Izzy.

“Ah, an anti-tracking rune. Very helpful actually.”

Pulling on the last thread, you grimaced causing Izzy to raise her brow.

“Fine. Just do it.” You relented.

She stood up with a gleam, taking out her stele and marked your arm with the healing rune. You felt your skin burning for a few seconds and when she removed the stele, you saw a pattern on your arm. You looked up at Izzy, her face a few inches from yours, and she smiled at you.

“Look at your arm, y/n.”

You did as you were told and saw that there were no longer stitches on your arm; the wound having been completely healed. Well, that was the point of the rune, you supposed.

“Woah.”

You met Izzy’s eyes and when she grinned, you couldn’t help but smile with her.

“Y/N Fray-Winterthorn, welcome to the Shadow World.”

The Silent Brothers ->

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billyspotato · 4 years

Note

also one where race comforts u about something (anything rlly) and j makes u feel better even if hes weird abt emotions.

A/N: Hope you like it.

Sad - Rafe Cameron

Words: 1.607 words

Type: Fluff

Warnings: English is not my first language, so sorry if I misspell anything. Kinda depressed reader. (GenderNeutral!Reader)

A/N: Gif’s not mine :)

You’ve been really stressed about school lately. All of your teachers, except for one, for no reason at all decided to schedule all of your tests in a space of two weeks. And unlike other people, you don’t work that well under pressure, or at least not extreme pressure. Which means that school is all that you’ve been thinking about lately.

Because of school, you couldn’t really hang out with your boyfriend, Rafe. But he understands, even after dropping out of college.

Now today, you’re way more upset and demotivated, and that’s because you just got the results of your first test, and let’s just say it didn’t even go that well.

You texted Rafe onde you received the email with the results and he took a while to answer, not really knowing what to say.

Once he texted back, he just asked if you wanted him to come over. You, not even hesitating, said yes.

It didn’t even take 10 minutes for Rafe to ring your doorbell, and you, while hugging your fluffy blanket, walked out of your bedroom while looking at the floor.

Once you pulled your door open, your eyes land on Rafe’s, making him lose his smile, and frown at the sight, probably from your swollen eyes. He took a step closer to you and open your door wide so he can come in completely.

While your eyes stay on Rafe, he steps closer and closer to you making your mental barrier (to not have a mental break down right in front of someone), slowly crumble. Your chin starts to slightly shake as your lips turn into a pout, making Rafe close the front door without taking his eyes out of you.

His hands cup your face, cooling down your warm cheeks, and a sob escapes your closed mouth making a tear slowly roll down your eye and land on his skin.

You move your face out of his hands and collide into his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso and letting your blanket fall into the floor. You sob into Rafe’s black polo shirt and his hands slowly lay your shoulders before giving them a small squeeze.

The only thing that can be heard through your parents’ house is your sobs echoing through the white walls of the hallway that held various expensive pieces of art.

“I don’t know what I did wrong” You whisper into his shirt before letting out another sob.

His hand moves lower to your back and the other one over to the back of your head, holding you but not giving you an answer.

Rafe lets you cry into his chest as his hands moved slowly, as his way to show you comfort and that he’s there for you, but his face held a serious expression, a thoughtful one, even.

Rafe doesn’t know what to do. Before dating you, he never had to look for comfort in anyone or, even, comfort someone. The first time he broke down in front of you, you knew exactly what to do. You hugged him close to your chest and told him many times that things will get better and you won’t leave him if they don’t. He was in shock when you did it but welcomed your soft and sweet touch as he did what you told him to, let it all out.

Now, he doesn’t know what to do. People say actions speak louder than words, but he feels like hugging you is a very cheap action. It probably doesn’t even feel as comforting as when you did it to him.

Your voice plays in his mind as he gets too deep in thought: ‘You’re overthinking’ and he forces his way out of that trance.

“Let’s go to your room” He whispers into the top of your head.

You nod into his chest and quickly grab your blanket from the floor when pulling away. Once you two start walking, you grab Rafe’s hand and lay your head on his arm as he practically led you to your room.

Your eyes catch the sight of your bed and you let him go before walking and laying down on it.

Your urge to cry is way smaller than it was before but all you could think about was still that stupid test and its result.

Rafe lays down next to you and you quickly move closer to him.

“Do you want to watch any shows… Or maybe a movie?” Rafe asks in a whisper as you lay your head on his shoulder.

You shrug, completely silent, making him almost tense up. Did he just fuck up? Was he not supposed to ask that? What if you think that he doesn’t care about you being sad?

He stops his body from tensing up to prevent you from sensing it and turns on your TV. He quickly clicks on Netflix and searches for your favorite animated/Disney movie. And once he finds it, he quickly plays it as his way to show you that he cares, once more.

As the song of the entrance starts, your eyes lift from Rafe’s polo shirt to the screen, making a small smile appear on your lips. Rafe, since he can’t see your expression from his position, just continues to fill his mind with questions.

But that, thankfully, only lasted until he stopped hearing your sniffles.

He relaxes and lets out the breath he didn’t even know he was holding and lays his hand over your head, playing it your hair, but careful not to hurt you.

As one of the first songs starts, he feels you hitting your finger lightly over his chest at the rhythm, making his lips curve slightly. He then turns his head and plants a kiss on your forehead, making you take your eyes off the screen and look over at him.

Your eyes are still swollen but your expression is now softer, and you even had a small smile. He pecks your lips quickly and when he pulls away, you close your eyes and snuggle into his neck.

(…)

After the movie/your distraction ended, making your dark and deep thoughts come back, your heart sped up once more and your eyes slightly watered at the idea of all your tests coming back with the same negative grade.

Rafe cuddled you until you fell asleep and he knew that it wouldn’t take long for you to wake up once more. So, he quickly got up and grabbed his phone, unlocking it and dialing his sisters’ number.

“What do you want?” Sarah asks with an annoyed tone.

“I need your help,” He says while stepping out of the bedroom.

“What did you do now?”

“Nothing. It’s Y/N” He answers while running his fingers through his hair.

Rafe quickly explained everything to his least favorite sister and she sighed once he was done.

“Okay, Uhm…” Sarah starts, “I’ll send you a text of what might help Y/N, but- Don’t be mad if it doesn’t work, it just works on me and some girls. It might not work on Y/N”

“Okay, be quick” He answers before ending the call.

While Rafe waited for his sister’s text, he looked back inside your bedroom to take a look at your sleeping form. His phone soon vibrates, and he looks over to find the list over text from Sarah.

Rafe quickly runs down the hallway and grabs a spare key of the house before running out.

(…)

You sit up on the bed as your eyes open and don’t see your boyfriend. You quickly check the time, fearing that it was already pretty late, and you left him awake for hours until his boredom, but it’s only been half an hour.

The front door opens, and you frown while looking at the open door of your bedroom. Have your parents come back early?

Rafe quickly comes into view as he steps back in the bedroom and for an unknown reason, he is holding two grocery bags.

“You’re awake” He comments, making you smile slightly.

“I am, where were you?”

“Sarah send me a list of things that can help you feel better” He starts while walking over to the bed with the two bags, “She didn’t specify any kind of chocolate or chips or even pizza, so…” He says before turning the bags upside down, “I bought most of them, or- Well, some that I think you would like”

Various types of snacks fall onto your bed and you open your mouth in shock. He had bought various types of chocolate, chips, cookies and even cake.

“Rafe…” You say in a soft tone while looking up from your bed to him, “Are you crazy?”

Rafe looks down at the number of snacks and starts to think.

Your heart quickly squeezes at the sight of him overthinking and you sit up on your knees, cupping his face to make him look over to you.

“Is it too much?” He asks in a whisper.

“A little,” You say with a smile, “But it’s perfect”

Rafe’s expression becomes softer and you pull him to you so you can kiss him. You peck his lips various times before giving him an actual kiss, making him smile into your lips.

“Thank you for everything today. I love you” You whisper to him with a serious expression while rubbing your thumbs over his cheeks.

“I love you more,” He says before kissing you again, wrapping his arms around your hips.

You pull away to look over at your bed again, “I’ll need help with this, though”

“That won’t be hard at all”

- - - - -

This is probably one of the fluffiest things I’ve ever written, ngl...

- - - - - -

🌸✨Sorry, but I’m not writing in this account anymore. Go check out my new one @twinklelilstarkey✨🌸

#rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe fluff #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey #gender netural reader #rafe x reader #outer banks imagines #outer banks imagine #outer banks netflix #outer banks

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likesomekindofcheese · 4 years

Text

The Nurse and the Skywalker (6 Undergound Oneshot)

Paring: Four/Billy x nurse! Reader

Word Count: 1847

From anon request: Can you do one with Ben( as 4/Billy in underground 6) getting injured and you’re a no-nonsense nurse having to tend to his wounds and he flirts with you at first, but then he gets serious/tender and vulnerable with you and it makes your heart melt?

Warnings: Swearing, hospitals, mentions of blood, illness, surgery, and injuries.

A/N: Thanks for your patience! Much thanks to @rhapsodyrecs for suggesting a great line! As well as @yourlocalmusicalprostitute and @joeneslee when writers block got me in this one!

The afternoon coffee you had been sipping was gulped in one hot swig when your co-worker ran in, yelling “Y/N! It’s an emergency! You need to hurry!”

The 12-hour shift and it’s exhaustion was forgotten at the words. Your shoes squeaked against the floor as you were led into the room.

“A young man-he has a bad injury-he’s been shot and his bones are broken too!” she cried.

Looking over, the patient was young. Not too far from your own age in fact. He was groaning in pain. His arm and leg were broken. But you noticed a few gashes here and there. Still bleeding. A lot. But he looked up and kept his eyes on you. As you reached over to see some charts the mysterious man left and what could be known, you felt his eyes, and saw him even crane his neck just to keep an eye out on you.

Maybe I spilled something on my scrubs you thought, dismissing the notion as they wheeled his bed out into the hallway.

“Quick, give me the anathesea- and a surgeon- we can get the bullet out, but we have to be swift!”

You were handed the pain medicine to give to the patient.

As you put the tube over his mouth, he glanced up at you. His eyes were as green as a field on a picnic day. And you noticed his hair as well-it was cut short but very blonde.

“I…I’m scared…please don’t…” he muttered lowly.

You felt your guts stir at the sound. He was deeply hurt. If he didn’t have the bullet removed, he was a goner.

“What is your name…?” you asked.

“I…don’t…have…a name…” he croaked.

He turned ghostly white and then pink.

“I…I’m sorry, I should have been stronger…thought I could make that jump…I couldn’t. I’m not that fucking strong…” he muttered.

“Who dropped him off?” you asked your co-worker.

She shrugged.

“This guy with a beard and this weird voice and then after we got the kid on a bed, he just vanished with all the bills paid already in cash! The guy was loaded!” she gossiped, tugging at her bright pink scrubs.

Turning to the patient, you forced him to look right into your eyes.“Okay mister, you don’t have a choice. You got lucky someone paid all of your bills, so you better suck it up and be grateful, got it?” you scolded.

He looked at you blankly before you put it right to his mouth and wheeled him to the surgeon’s office.

Two hours later you got word that the boy got lucky. The bullet was found and removed. It wasn’t too deep and nowhere near any vital organs. But he seemed to be ill and needed to be checked up and have his limbs bandaged.

“Here he is…he’s still on the pain medicine some, so he might be a little loopy…” the surgeon warned, before leaving you alone in the room to do your work.

“Hello…I’m Y/N, I’m your nurse…hang in there, you’re gonna be fine…” you said, he seemed half asleep. Almost in another world. There was no reply.You were checking his blood pressure when his eyes fluttered open. Your head whipped around as you tied the black strap tightly around his arm.

“Hey there…” he croaked out.

“Checking your blood pressure, hold up…” you mumbled, making it tight as possible.

“I must be in a museum…” he said softly.

“Well, I don’t see any Da Vinci any…”

“Because you’re a piece of art.”

Your jaw dropped and your head whipped around to see him. Did that really come out of him? Moments after he was near death.

“Pardon?”

He gave you a half smile and you felt a blush creeping up on you and it made you mad. Of all places this was happening- at work!

Did a patient really just flirt with me? Maybe it’s just my imagination.

You undid the black strap and set it away without a word, writing down the numbers. He reached over and picked up the menu of food options to be ordered for patients.

“Do you know what’s on the menu?” he asked.

“Vegetables. You better order some with your dinner. Eat up, your body’s in bad enough condition…”

“Close, but it’s Me ‘n you.” He added with a devilish grin.

Your ears heard it right alright. You felt them grow hot.

“You know what else is on the menu? This antiseptic,” you ordered. Walking over to the side and getting an orange bottle and some cotton balls, eyes on his wounds. As you began to apply some to the cuts, the cool guy façade dropped.

“NNNnnnnng, no! No! And I’m sorry! Won’t do it! Won’t do it!” he whined. His voice getting a little higher than what was considered manly.

“Just shut up and suck it up, Romeo,” you replied, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

The next day a woman arrived to check on the patient. A beautiful woman with tan skin and yellow hair with a white suit. You felt envy twinge in your stomach as her heels clicked on the tile floor.

She went into the room. If only you did not have duties currently. But no, scratch it, you weren’t interested. Not some cheeky patient that was trying to break all the medical oaths in the book. Passing by the room to put away your lunch box, you forced your ears shut at the quiet conversation they had.

As you returned, she left the door of the room. She looked up at you and pointed at you to come near.

“You are nurse Y/N, right?” she asked in a European accent.

“Yes, I am.”

She glanced around to see if anyone was listening in. Then she leaned closer.

“How long have you worked here?” she asked.

You told her.

“Good, you know what you’re doing. We…we just need a bit of help. He’s on…on my company. He got hurt. Badly.” She said softly.

Yeah, no shit you thought.

“What caused the wounds? I think he mentioned a jump…” you asked, folding your arms skeptically. What kind of sketchy company was this that was all hush and made gallons of money where people got shot?

Her pink lips tightened, she glanced to the left and then answered “It was a fall. Bad one. Just…an accident.”

“What’s your name? And what’s his name? Why did he get shot? Was there a shooting at your job?” you asked.

“We would prefer to be anonymous,” she answered coldly.

“What, why?”

“For protection. He’s here to get better, right?” she answered with a twinge of annoyed anger.

“Yes…”

“Don’t hurt him, then…or make him do anything to hurt himself more…”

She turned around and clicked away, but gave you one look, softened. As if to silently say thank you- even if you did ask questions about whatever this “company” was.

Hours later, you came into the room with the patient. Though you armed yourself to fight off like the black cat with Pepe le Pew, he looked at you and glanced down at his lap. His left arm and right foot was in a cast and he seemed red as a beet in his face. But the light in his eyes were glazed, but had dimmed. And he seemed in pain.

His forehead was like a furnace. Sticking a thermometer in his mouth, you watched the numbers rise above healthy at the end. Gently, you pulled it out to put it away.

A half-grin reappeared on his face.

“Is it hot in here or is it just you?” he said.

“No, you got a fever dumbass,” you replied.

You showed him the temperature and he huffed lightly.

“Well, you will have to stay here a bit longer. Injured and sick. It doesn’t seem bad, but it’s still a double whammy. Three or four days…” you said,

He pulled out his free hand to play with his phone, pouting in defeat. You stayed to type into the pad you used for work to keep track of patients charts.

“Bi-billy…”

“Hm, what?” you said, turning around.

“You wanted my name, I’m…I’m Billy…” he confessed.

“Okay, thank you! I can finally call you something other than Romeo,” you jested.

“That’s not a bad name, either though,” he said.

The doctor working on him informed you that his fever did have a chance of breaking in the night. You offered to stay.

“Why, Y/N…you’re worried about him?” the doctor asked, cocking her head.

You shook away the creeping blush and smile growing on you.

“I just want the extra hours for pay!” you insisted.

You stayed there, reading with him. You realized what he was doing on his phone- watching movies.

“American movies are the best, like, us on the Pond get all the boring, slow stuff- America is where the real movies are!” he commented when you glanced over.

“Hey- that one’s my favorite!” you cried, recognizing it at once.

Indulging it, you watched the rest of it. Talking about your favorite actors, quoting the lines, and smiling ear to ear by the time the credits rolled by on the tiny screen.

“I was so scared…I was gonna die…” Billy confessed, setting the phone down.

“It’s just medicine,” you scoffed.

“No…when I fell…” he said.

“Really?” you asked, leaving the sarcasm.

“I felt that was it. You see…I…no, I shouldn’t…” he mumbled, looking down.

“You can tell me…” you urged.

“I got a chance to…uh, do something important. It was risky, but it was better than what I had before but I…I thought I was dead for good because I slipped and fell…” he added on.

Recalling the first day, he had a bullet in his body as well. How did that get in there? There was no news you checked of a shooting anywhere.

“And you were shot…how did you get shot?” you questioned.

“I…I can’t tell you everything but I just feel…I can trust you…someone was in danger…and I was trying to get him out and some’ow…I got shot and I fell off…” Billy explained.

“Fell off? Of what?”

“The skyscraper downtown…” he confessed, eyes down to his lap again.

“What! No! That’s a hundred feet high! How in hell are you even alive?” you gasped.

He looked at you and laughed.

“That’s some bad fucking words for a medical professional!” he teased. “But that’s a good question, really…”

Outside the window, a bird sat in the darkness on the pane. Its feathers seemed to glean in the moonlight. It was a clear night, even a sky filled with stars could be seen despite the smoke of the city

“I…I’m glad you survived. I’m glad you didn’t die and so you could- you know- help whoever this person is you were trying to help,” you commented. And this time you smiled back.

“I…I’m glad you were there to help me…dunno what I’ll do next time I’ll fall…” he said.

“I should be there then…”

Taglist: @themarchoftherainbowqueen @rhapsodyrecs (thanks for the wonderful line!) @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @sgt-stardust-killer-queen @queenlover05 @lady-ofmischief

#nurse! reader #nurse! y/n #6 underground #ben hardy characters #four/billy #four/billy x reader #four/billy x you #four/billy x y/n #ben hardy #ben hardy x you #ben hardy x y/n #ben hardy x reader #6 underground fanfiction #6 underground fanfic #6 underground oneshot #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy oneshot #carrie writes

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theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 3 years

Note

What inspired you to write in the first place? That, and where the hell did the idea of "Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus" come from?

Oh man, I feel like you should have asked me this a few years ago as then I’d have better than vague remembrances of where this all began.

Well, first, as for writing I can’t say I really know.

I’ve always loved writing, even before I got my fanfiction account at the Dawn of Time I was writing. It was either strange short stories or essentially fanfiction (I can’t remember my exact age, I think I might have been eight or something, but I essentially wrote a fanfiction screen play of what should happen after The Lord of the Rings. It has been purged from every computer ever as I shortly after realized it was hot garbage and its very existence haunts me to this day.) Eventually I was introduced to fanfiction by a friend and, well, I’ve been stuck here ever since.

It’s the same for me with reading/movies, I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t in love with the world of fiction.

As for “Lily”, as you can imagine, it’s kind of a weird story that still won’t explain where the hell that out of nowhere AU came from. I like to think it’s interesting though.

So, this was when I was first getting serious into writing HP fanfiction. Before that I was mired in the Death Note fandom and I can’t say that Harry Potter really interested me. Then I realized I could chuck Harry out the window and make it all about Tom Riddle. “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?” had picked up both a fair amount of steam and also a fair amount of notice and my mind started to wander (as one’s mind does).

I wanted to write a Master of Death fic. I’d seen a lot around but none really went where I wanted. Harry the god was usually too young and far too human, at best he’d be sort of cynical and jaded and try to convince you this was wisdom. I wanted a god Harry who really was a god and slowly had to come to accept it. So, the vague idea that was “Lily” before “Lily” was born was that it’d be a Master of Death story focusing on a millennia old Harry who then returns to his human origins in one desperate attempt to reclaim his humanity.

Only he’s so old, weird, and inhuman that it immediately goes off the rails. He warps the very reality around him when he returns, things stop making any real sense, and the more he tries to cling to being Just Harry the more things fall apart.

Early on in the story he was going to unconsciously make this... I guess we’ll call it a construct. It’d look human but it wouldn’t really be, but instead would be this thing he’d created to essentially deal with all of his problems for him and be Harry Potter (chosen one, boy who lived, person who has to deal with Tom Riddle for him) in his place. This was actually Lily. The reason she’d be the spitting image of Harry’s mother, calling herself Lily, in this version was because Harry’s so weirdly hung up on his mom that he makes this artificial clone of her to be his best friend he can be all weird about.

As the story would progress “Lily” would become more and more of a person, has to deal with horrifically traumatic garbage in Harry’s stead in a world where she doesn’t even really exist, and would slowly start pressuring Harry to admit he’s a goddamn God already and stop putting her through this horror show. Harry, naturally, wouldn’t as he has convinced himself he’s not responsible for this madness.

Probably sometime around Goblet of Fire, and getting her name thrown in the goblet, “Lily” would have enough and have a giant meltdown and go AWOL in order to force Harry to man up already. Lily would eventually die/be deconstructed as Harry’s forced to admit she’s something that sprung from Mummy Issues and his own personal hang ups on his human life. The story would eventually end with Harry manning up already, admitting this is all a farce he’s set up, and gracefully exiting stage left.

And that’s about as far as I got with the planning of the “Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus” that never happened.

The trouble was, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that “Lily” was the far more interesting and engaging character. Harry as he was, while severely flawed, didn’t drive the plot on his own or in all that interesting of a way. He’s there to mostly be in denial and be a catalyst, it was Lily’s trials and tribulations that I actually cared about. (Though in retrospect the vague outline of the original is still pretty damn good, if bleak.)

And so the story started to morph into something else completely. What if we still had that Master of Death Harry (only kinder and less of an asshole) but instead “Lily” really is a Harry Potter. She’s an alternate Harry Potter of a world that’s mostly the same, but a little different here and there, and for whatever reason is closer to the source of what Harry Potter really is.

So, Lily’s story began to form, in which she’s navigating the strange destiny of Harry Potter with friends in all the wrong places and trying to figure out the meaning of this often cruel, cold, world we live in. I debated for a while making her another Harry (male character) but I chose not to for a few reasons.

1) Lily’s personality comes off as more abrasive and strange as a little girl than a little boy. She doesn’t fit societal expectations of what a little girl should be like and I very much wanted that.

2) The prophecy in Lily’s universe is inherently wrong. It provides the wrong gender which has very important implications for The End of the World that Rabbit keeps bringing up.

3) It allows me to be very up front that this Harry Potter is not at all the same as the one we know. Yes, I’ve seen similar things done with male alternate!Harrys but I feel like it’s a fast short hand to swap the gender for me to make really really large changes to characterizations without people blinking. Lily is a Harry, not the Harry.

4) The Lily Evans and Lily mistaken identity thing was vital to the plot.

I then made her Eleanor rather than Harriet as I, again, wanted to be very clear that she’s not Harry. She encompasses Harry’s role in life but they are extremely different characters.

Anyways, from the very beginning it was always about “the meaning of life” more than anything else (hence the title) and so pretty soon after the Lily centered story began to form Wizard Lenin, Rabbit, and the whole overarching plot was born.

And here we are, years later, in which I knew it was an epic but I had no idea it’d be this damn long.

#ask #anon #lily and the art of being sisyphus

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ja-khajay · 3 years

Text

2020-2021 Animation Watch(ed)list

I haven’t posted about animation in a while that I remember, and I know a lot of my followers are into it as much as me so I decided to make a list of the animated movies and series I watched on the past year or so, coupled with my short, spoilerless take on them. Enjoy!

Organized by

Things I saw for the first time

Things I rewatched

Under a cut for the sake of your dashboards! PS: I have not added any images yet. If you are interested in knowing more about the visuals of these movies, I might make an old fashion ask-prompted imageset list.

Part One: Things I saw for the first time

The Bear’s Famous Invasion of Sicily

Movie, 2019, Italian/French

9/10, a delightful little movie with amazing visuals. It feels like an animated picture book.

One of those “plot is in the title” media! I had never heard of this before but was heavily recommended it by my family members, who all loved it! It’s a sweet story, nothing groundbreaking but the unique colorful visual style alone makes it worth it.

The Castle of Cagliostro

Movie, 1979, Japanese

10/10. Reminded me of all the books i loved reading as a child

I assume its because it’s so old and the art style and themes are so different that it gets little to no love compared to other Ghibli movies, which is a shame! It’s fun with an endearing cast and as always, great animation and music

Mushishi

Series, 2006, Japanese

10/10 three episodes in I knew it was going to be my favorite series ever

One of the few things I’ve seen I’ll describe as life-changing. It’s absolutely lovely but never toots its own horn about it. Humble, calming, emotional and surprisingly mature. It’s pretty impossible to binge due to how intense the experience is. I just want to walk in the forest now...

FMA: Brotherhood

Series, 2009, Japanese

6/10 Dissapointing adaptation of a classic story

I read the manga for this when I was in middle school and remembered loving it. The animated version does an ok job of presenting the characters and worldbuilding and has some nice action scenes but overall looks really damn cheap and just. Not very good. Seeing I already knew most of the plot I did not have the element of discovery that made me marvel so much reading the original. It’s still a nice series but I really recommend reading it instead.

Code Lyoko (s1+2)

Series, 2003, french

3/10. 1.5 being for the opening song alone

This show sucks ass if I hadn’t been watching this with my bestie I would have dropped it two episodes in. The art style is ugly the stories are always the same and the first season has a (later removed thank fucking god) LITERAL “erase any consequences” button as a plot device in every episode. If you watch it for one thing let it be the nostalgia factor of early 00s Vidya Game Plot

The Legend of Hei

Movie, 2019, Chinese

7/10. Impressive visuals and a poor story

I finally watched this, peer pressured by the load of gifsets on my dashboard! It’s a sweet movie with really impressive animation, sometimes a bit too flashy for my taste (the action sequences go so ham they become not very readable...) but the story was just ok? The setting is barely explained and you are instead bombarded with vague epicspeech about powers and stuff that made me fondly remember Kingdom Hearts lol but that asides it’s a really good time! I need to watch more Chinese movies the few I know are just delightfully off the shits in how they approach action and I love that

Hunter x Hunter

Series, 1999, Japanese

9/10. Superior to the recent one!

I first got introduced to the series via the 2011 one. Comparatively, the 99 series focuses way less on action and way more on the characters, which I love because that fits my personal preferences! Despite mediocre filler episodes and some weird slight pointless plot changes, what it changes from the original manga doesn’t have much of an impact on the characters. The animation quality isn’t always consistent including a huge art style change for an arc (???) but it’s overall pretty nice. The series really shines in the last arc it adapts.

Oban Star-racers

Series, 2006, Japanese/french

9/10 a lovely surprise

This series is completly obscure despite having been created by people famous for their other series (Cowboy Bebop, Code Lyoko that i can name) and it’s a crime! It’s a kids show but without being stupid about it who tells the story of an inter-planetary race. If you liked that one scene in the star wars prequels you know what I mean. It’s got surprisingly nice animation for a TV series, and some truly great character design. The art style is a bit unique in a not for everyone sense, but I didn’t mind it much. It’s also THE most offensively 2000s series i’ve seen in terms of visuals. y2k kids assemble

The Little Prince and the Eight-Headed Dragon

Movie, 1963, japanese

8/10. Classic fairytale format with incredible visuals

Watched this for the art style because I know it inspired Samurai Jack, and it delievered! I dont’ have much to say about this one, it’s a very simply film but it’s sweet. For my pirates out there if you want to find it in good quality with english subtitles it’s VERY hard to find. If you just want to see the looks of it, it’s on Youtube with portugese subs.

We now enter the Gobelins Shorts Zone....!

My Friend Who Glows In The Dark

10/10 makes me cry each time

Pure delight...great animation writing everything. A little short about death and friendship but not in the way you imagine!

Colza

9/10

Visual treat...homely and nice :) not far from a 10 but a 9 because nothing about it is that groundbreaking

Sundown

9/10

If you’ve ever been ten minutes from failing a group project because of a single dude you will REALLY enjoy this. Loved the colors and personality

T’as vendu mes rollers?

10/10

It’s SUCH a sweet little short I loved that one so much

Dix-huit kilomètres trois

10/10

Surprisingly well written dialog. Visuals are great but the humanity of the characters carries this to another level

Un diable dans la poche

9/10

Amazing visuals and the most tense/creepy of Gobelin shorts i’ve ever seen. Chilling

La bestia

8/10

I had some issues with the pacing. Interesting story and visuals choices but I was not fond of the art style

Goodbye Robin

5/10

Confusing but predictable. Both at once??? Yes!

Le retour des vagues

6/10

Cool animation stuff but felt pretty pointless

***

Part Two: Things I rewatched

Ruben Brandt: Collector

Movie, 2018, Hungarian

10/10. Underrated as hell

Watched this fully blind for the first time in an animated festival and rewatched it with friends. It’s a crime I never see anyone talking about it given the amount of whining I see about the lack of both adult animation and 2D movies? This film is a unique love letter to art in the form of a weird mix of charming crime story and psychological horror with amazing visuals. I recommend watching it blind and also buying it to show appreciation for how nice it is!!! WATCH THIS MOVIE...

Mononoke

Series, 2007, Japanese

10/10 Visual/storytelling masterpiece in the weird shit departement

If you can stomach intense stuff watch this. The visuals are incredibly unique and beautiful and under the jewel tones and art direction high takes it’s a really cool horror series. My only obstacle to enjoying it the first time I saw it was how dense it is - simply put, it’s so...culturally Japanese it’s not very accessible to me who doesn’t know anything about the culture? Watching it for the second time helped understanding the stories more!

Corto Maltese in Siberia

Movie, 2002, french

9/10 but really close to ten. A great adaptation!

I’m a huge fan of the original comic so I entered this a biiiittttt suspicious it would suck but it was a really pleasant surprise! It has all the wonder and charm of the original and the animation was surprisingly good for the little budget. If you’re not familiar with the series, it’s a sort of geopolitical action/adventure movie but with it’s own really poetic vibe to it. It’s almost impossible to find online but happens to be fully on YouTube so go ham I guess?

Redline

Movie, 2009, Japanese

10/10 cinema was invented for this, actually

Every review of this movie i’ve seen gives it five stars and starts by talking about how immensly stupid it is. I’m no different. It’s a masterpiece of escalating energy with the depth of a puddle and it fucking rules. It’s free on YouTube too so there really is no excuse to not watch it. Watched it for the first time on a huge cinema screen and despite this my second rewatch on my small laptop was as/even more enjoyable. If you watch this stoned with friends you might travel to another dimension

Spirited Away

Movie, 2001, Japan

10/10 deserves the love it gets

I watched this a single time as a kid and had little memory of it! I mean it’s Ghibli you know it’s going to be good as hell but this one rly shines in how colorful and detailed it is and in it’s world! It made me remember I had a huge crush on the dragonboy as a kid. I’m gay now

Kung-fu Panda (1&2)

Movie, Usa

10/10. KFP fucking rules

Honestly my favorite franchise of the whole disney/dreamworks/pixar hydra. It’s fun as hell, doesn’t skip a single beat and has amazing animation and character designs. If something is a good time I will not care if it’s deep or not and boy I fucking love these movies

Sinbad, Legend of the Seven Seas

Movie, 2003, Usa

5/10 Some great some really bad and overall generic

I tend to hate american cinema and this includes that era of animation I have no nostalgia for. Sinbad is in a weird place because I love adventure stories and the visuals of the movie absolutely deliver but it’s very predictable and TANKED by the addition of the female character, pushed in your face as “look we have woman!!!” despite her writing being misogynistic as hell lol. The evil goddess rules tho. This movie would have been a solid 9 if instead of the girl the two dudes had kissed

#j #animation #if you want links to these ill provide but not for the indie ones that arent free #i have no remorse p*rating disney or a movie thats over 50 but if its recent and underrated just legally get it!!!

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fuckinuchihas · 4 years

Note

for the love story!! my crush is kuroo tetsuro my fav trope is the passionate rambling/ attentive listening one 🥺 i’m a pretty tall person, have brown eyes n brown hair with highlights, im very shy until you get to know me and then im really chaotic,loud and funny, and i also almost always go on passionate rants about the things i love (studio ghibli, music, etc).

I hope it’s ok that I made you a student.

Also sorry for any character inaccuracies, I thought you passionately defending the thing you love would be a good place to start!

★・・・・・★・・・・・★・・・・・★

“But that’s not true!” you demand, causing your professor to widen their eyes and lift their hand in your direction instructing you to stand.

“You have the floor, convince me otherwise.”

“Studio Ghibli films…”

There was a small gasp in the room but the professor didn’t seem surprised.

“Mis-“

“Just let me explain,” you beg and they must see the sincerity in your eyes so they gesture for you to continue.

“They were supposed to be cute little films teaching basic human morals to children in a fun and new way. But then as we do with everything, we ruined them,” you say, clenching your fist.

“Oh? And how is that?”

“Well for starters, some adult fans began pushing their own ideals and behaviors onto the characters-not that I’m saying fan art or writings shouldn’t be allowed, because I’m definitely not,” you say, making the professor shake their head.

“The art was more modern and well, just overall cooler than anything else that was available at the time, it drew in a wider audience and with that came the more aggressive fanatics,” you say, taking in a quick breath. “They began to sexualize the characters and tried to pressure the creator to do the same. It became such a stressful situation for him that he decided to just quit making the films.”

“Alright, I can see your point but-”

“But the original purpose still remains. They were meant to be a moral compass for children and I think if you could let them enjoy the movies today without exposure to the adult content, they would still be a really cool way to learn quality behavioral patterns.”

You sit down in your seat, feeling just a little embarrassed now that the anxiety has hit you. It was a delayed response for sure, but before you can worry too much you hear a loud clapping in the back row and your head snaps to its source.

Kuroo Tetsuro

He is so gorgeous and one of the most popular guys on campus.

The fact that he’s paying any attention to you feels a little like something out of a dream.

You stay quiet through the rest of the class even though there are a couple times you wanna speak up, your nerves and that smile you saw on Kuroo’s face keep you silent.

He finds you after class though, he’s pushing a hand through his neatly styled hair.

“That’s quite an argument you made,” he says, and you feel your cheeks warm.

You shrug and try to act less nervous than you feel. “I like the films.”

“I’ve never actually seen any of them but if they inspired all that passion, I should probably at least give it a try,” he says, and your brown eyes light up.

“Yes! You won’t regret it. Really! Howl’s Moving Castle is probably the most famous one but if you really want to get into it I suggest starting with “Spirited Away, that’s my favorite!”

“Is that one about a horse?” he asks, looking up at the ceiling as you step into the corridor.

“What? No…?”

“Oh then no, I haven’t seen it.”

“Are you-are you thinking of Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know, I haven’t seen that either but I’d heard of it…”

“Oh it’s-its fine,” you say, though you don’t really feel that it’s fine.

How could he not have heard of the movies you love so much?

“Well I guess you’ll just have to show me then...busy later?”

“I-uh-I mean-I-,” you say, flush with excitement and no small amount of embarrassment. You didn’t even do anything this time but just talking to him and the mere suggestion of actually spending time together outside of class...it seems impossible.

“Yeah-yeah okay,” you say, because as much as you are shy and nervous and embarrassed right then, you know you can’t let this opportunity pass you by.

★・・・・・★・・・・・★・・・・・★

It goes...fantastically actually.

You’re nervous around him at first but he invites you into his shared dorm and offers you a few different choices in snacks and drinks before you sit down to watch. His roommate is some kind of gamer so there’s a large flat screen on the desk by the window and you politely sit in the rolling desk chair while he thankfully saves you the embarrassment and sits on his bed.

Once the movie starts, he tries to talk to you but you shush him each and every time.

What? You don’t want him to miss anything do you?

So he takes the hint and just watches the film closely.

When it’s over, the way he smiles at you, you know he’s hooked.

He asks tons of questions and you excitedly talk about your favorite parts, the ones you’ve seen a million times, and he listens and watches. When you mention the moral lesson he links your discussion back to the argument you made in class and you feel like your heart is about to burst.

He’d listened to you.

He’d listened and remembered.

He’d listened and remembered something that was important to you, something you were passionate about, even though you felt you were just rambling by the end of it.

He-fuck, you didn’t think anyone actually enjoyed listening to you talk but he seems to.

You stutter your speech to a halt and he gives you a curious look.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh y-yeah, I’m fine…” you answer, feeling like maybe it’s a good idea to get out while you can.

But then he says, “You wanna watch again?”

And well...you weren’t using that heart for much anyway.

★・・・・・★・・・・・★・・・・・★

After you spend several hours hanging out in his dorm, Kuroo takes the initiative to invite you out for coffee, he explicitly says the ‘d’ word, y’know date...but you try not to focus on that because if you do you’ll never be satisfied with the way your highlighted hair somehow seems to be fighting you.

When you arrive at the cafe he already has a drink waiting for you and he greets you with the warmest smile you’ve seen on his face. He smirks a lot, and laughs but this is somehow different.

He’s just...happy? He’s happy to see you.

“H-hey,” you say, ducking your head a bit as you slide into a seat beside him.

“I hope it’s not weird that I remembered what you like...I just thought it would come in handy,” he says, as he scoots the cup across the table.

“No, not weird,” you say, trying to calm your fluttering heart.

You talk about class, about the films some more, but then a familiar tune starts playing quietly in the background and you grin.

“I love this song!” you say, patting his arm excitedly.

You spend another twenty minutes talking music, Kuroo listening intently and offering up his own opinion when he can but honestly he mostly just stares at you with a sparkle in his eye.

“We should do this again,” he says, as he walks you to class.

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

<3 AND Y’ALL LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER!

★・・・・・★・・・・・★・・・・・★

MASTERLIST

#not naruto #not knb #haikyuu!!#kuroo testuro #kuroo x reader #kuroo hcs #my stuff #my ask game #ask games #ty for asking!#ask me things pls #ask me all the things!

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tiliamericana · 3 years

Text

Muay Thai: 1.10

“Does it taste okay?” asked Agatha, looking up at Nairi across the table. Her eyes looked different without the glasses, a little tireder, less focused.

“It’s really good,” said Nairi, swallowing a mouthful of her pasta. “I don’t really know what I’m doing in the kitchen, so any meal I don’t have to figure out myself is a good one, you know?”

“Well, thank you for the ringing praise,” said Agatha drily.

“I—sorry,” said Nairi, “it is good, I do mean it.”

Agatha’s mouth twitched up with a small smile. “I know. I was only teasing.”

“Oh, well, sorry for being stupid then,” said Nairi, smiling back at her.

Agatha laughed as she pushed herself up from the table, collecting their bowls. “You’re not stupid, Nairi.”

“Thanks,” said Nairi, shifting so that Agatha could move past her to get into the kitchen. Her apartment was cramped; a single bedroom tacked on to one living space, and her round kitchen table was crammed into the corner. Nairi’s legs were a little long for it. She hesitated, watching Agatha cross to the kitchen. “Do you want a hand with the dishes?”

Agatha smiled at her, running the sink. “No, I’ve got it, I’m fussy about how I wash them. I appreciate the company, though.”

Nairi nodded, getting out of the slightly too-low seat to join her by the sink, leaning awkwardly against the countertop and crossing her arms as the smell of dishwash detergent started to tickle her nose. Nairi watched her scrub the bowls and felt a slight tinge of self-judgement: she’d run her dishwasher to clean three mugs earlier in the week. “So, um, did you get much done today?” she asked instead of thinking too hard about it.

“Hardly anything,” said Agatha, rolling her eyes. “I was in two classes today. I hate dealing with freshmen so much—they’re only barelyenrolled by their own inclination.”

“You don’t like teaching much, do you?” said Nairi, fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve where it was tucked under her elbow.

“Not at all,” said Agatha, wrinkling her nose. “Especially now—I’m trying to finish prepping this article for peer review and journal submission and it’s absolutely nerve wracking. It’s only my second time trying to get published and the first paper went through two rounds of rejections before I got anywhere. How was your day? No classes for you, right?”

“No, closed on Tuesdays and Sundays,” said Nairi with a nod. “Weekends tend to be free for more people though, so if business picks up, I might change it.”

“You had a nice sleep in and a lazy veg day, then?” said Agatha, smiling as she rinsed a cup and set it on the rack.

Nairi shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. I took some lunch over to Linden’s studio and we chatted.”

“Really?” said Agatha, and she paused. “Oh. That’s odd, Linden doesn’t really like taking people over there.”

“Yeah,” said Nairi slowly, trying to figure out the weird note in Agatha’s voice. “I think she wanted to talk about a painting she’s making me, she keeps telling me my living room is too boring.”

Agatha nodded, draining the sink. “That makes sense,” she said, reaching for a kitchen towel. “She’s very firm about art and atmosphere, your bare walls must offend her on principle.”

“I think so, yeah,” said Nairi, trying to keep her tone light. “She keeps telling me I’m going to go insane if all I have to look at is plaster and brick.”

Agatha laughed, stepping away from the sink. “She’s a bitch like that. Do you want to stay tonight? I don’t have to be on campus ‘til noon tomorrow, so I can promise not to rush you out in the morning.”

Oh, this was going to be a thing, wasn’t it. Nairi hesitated. “I’d like to,” she started, trying to pick out her words with care, “but I told Linden I’d stay up so she could check in after her job tonight, and she thinks it’ll be about one.”

“That’s okay,” said Agatha, smiling at her as she rehung the kitchen towel and stepped into Nairi’s personal space. “I sleep very solidly, so if you need to call her you can just step out, or, you know, wake me up if you need to sound the alarms.”

“Oh,” said Nairi, and she smiled awkwardly back at Agatha. “Cool. I guess that works out then.”

Agatha kissed her cheek. “Great. Do you want to watch something? I’m afraid I’m terribly boring—I recorded a documentary yesterday, it’s about giant squid.”

She was smiling as she said it though, and it wasn’t like Nairi found anything interesting when she turned her TV on. She’d gotten a DVD player with it, but she didn’t own any movies. She’d thought about it, but nothing really looked… interesting.

Agatha had a small shelf of DVDs next to her entertainment unit. She could always ask about it later.

“It sounds good,” she said, turning and following Agatha to the couch. “I’m afraid I’m terribly boring, I don’t know anything about giant squids.”

Agatha laughed as Nairi sat down, shifting closer to be next to her, leaning in against Nairi’s side. Nairi thought about it for a second, then wrapped her arm around Agatha’s shoulders. This seemed to be the right thing to do, Agatha kissing her cheek with a warm smile before turning her attention to the remote as she set the recorded program to play.

Nairi tried to pay attention to the show. The voice was soothing and passionate about the topic, well-informed as they tried to educate her on the probable facts about what was apparently a very controversial fish. Cephalopod? Apparently squid weren’t fish.

…Apparently squid weren’t the same as octopuses either.

Agatha’s hand was wrapped loosely around Nairi’s, her fingers a little too warm. Nairi thought about brushing her off, but her hand was really just hanging there, Agatha was the one holding it. Fuck, this was so much more to think about than it should have been. Agatha hummed as the narrator with the smooth transatlantic accent posed a question and laced her fingers more tightly with Nairi’s. Too late, damnit, how was she bad at sitting on a couch?

She’d always been bad at people, though. Staying away had been fine, she’d always been good at keeping people at arm’s length, how the fuckwas she supposed to let someone be close. She wanted this, didn’t she? It felt nice to be touched by people, without judgement, or grabbing. It didn’t hurt, and she missed it when they didn’t. Linden liked touching and being touched, Agatha did too, and god, she just felt lonely when she thought about it—

This was fine. It was fine.

Agatha’s thumb was rubbing a small circle on the back of her hand. Nairi squeezed it gently and rubbed her own thumb in return, making Agatha sigh and tuck her head into the crook of Nairi’s neck. Nairi shifted to let herself sink a little into the corner of her couch, bringing her legs up so that she and Agatha were lying almost parallel. It was comfortable. Agatha’s couch was squashy and good, and a thousand times better than the piece of shit in Linden’s studio. Not as wide as Nairi’s, but she’d just bought the most expensive couch that would fit in her apartment.

Agatha’s pulse against her fingers ticked up a notch and she shifted to lie against Nairi fully. This was actually good; the warm, reassuring pressure through their clothes, the presence of another person against her, soft and quiet. Like this she could pretty much ignore the too hot, moist sweatiness of Agatha’s hand in hers and focus on how nice it was to exist in the same space as her without being on guard.

She had no idea what the show was talking about now, the smooth accent was talking about depth and pressure units, the screen almost black with the ocean. She couldn’t hold onto the words; they slipped through her ears like she was in a dream. It felt like every breath she took was out of sync, a second behind the motion of her chest, like every normal movement was happening on a delay. Like she was just… visiting her own body. It wasn’t bad,necessarily, just… Odd.

“—ri? Are you okay?”

Nairi willed her head to move towards Agatha. It took far too long, but she got there eventually. She licked her lips, suddenly feeling like her mouth was too dry. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said.

Did she always sound like that? All distant and weirdly pitched?

Agatha didn’t seem perturbed by it, so maybe she did. She leaned in towards Nairi, her lips moving, she was saying something else but Nairi couldn’t tell what it was. She saw Agatha’s lips connect with hers before she felt them. This was fine.

Totally fine. Nairi couldn’t really focus on what she was doing; it was like she was swimming while still wearing her clothes, or that one time she’d had to wade through chest high mud. One metaphorical foot in front of the other, it was just moving, just touching, that was all she had to do, then eventually they’d stop, and she was going to get clean, and have warm clothes, and there’d be a dark, safe place where she could sleep.

Agatha was nice, nicer than her, and she couldn’t even feel how sweaty her bare skin was anymore, it wasn’t as good as through the clothes, but it was probably nice, still fine—

Soft laughter reached her ears, and Nairi muzzily turned her head, finding Agatha’s face, her glasses-less eyes unfocused and smiling. “Tired, night owl?”

Not really. Nairi nodded anyway. “I have to—” she started to say, but her words were coming too slowly. When had the documentary stopped?

“Check in with Lindy, I know,” said Agatha, kissing Nairi’s bare shoulder. “We should get some sleep first, you can set an alarm?”

Nairi tried to imagine climbing into an actual bed with another human being at that moment and her brain flipped sideways. “It’s okay, I’m not tired,” she said, pulling herself to sit upright. She just needed to clear her head, that was all. She was fine.

“Alright,” said Agatha, sounding faintly amused. She reached down and picked up Nairi’s shirt from where it had dropped, handing it back, and Nairi pulled it over her head, trying not to look too relieved. It was just cheap cotton, but it was like wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, removing some of the tension in her head and her hands. Agatha kept talking without her. “Do you want some tea? I’ve got a box somewhere, I think.”

“Yeah,” said Nairi, seeing an opportunity to get some space and clinging to it. “Thanks. I’m just gonna, wash up.”

“Of course,” said Agatha, leaning in and kissing Nairi’s cheek before she stood. “There’s fresh wash cloths and proper soap under the sink.”

“Thanks,” said Nairi, doing her best to stand up and cross the room at a normal pace.

The cold water was a blessing on her hands. She left the door open a crack so that she could hear Agatha bustling about the kitchen, and she splashed some water at her eyes as she heard the tell-tale clank of a stove top kettle being filled and the gas clicking on. Her face seemed to come into focus as she stared at herself in the mirror over the sink, and she let the water run for a moment, watching a droplet slowly climb down the side of her nose and onto her cheek.

She shook her head and turned the hot tap, letting the water warm as she opened the cupboard under the sink. There was a small selection of bottles too tall for the drawers, each labelled something like “face”, “hand soap refill”, “moisturiser: body”, in identical looking printed stickers. There was a small stack of wash cloths next to them.

Nairi hesitated and grabbed a bottle of face wash and the first wash cloth from the pile. It was soft, and the soap was gentler than hers, smelling of rose and something herbal. She washed her face and hands slowly, rinsing off afterwards. The cuffs on her shirt sleeves were damp, faintly scented once she finished, and Nairi tossed the cloth into the hamper before putting the soap bottle away. She didn’t know exactly why you’d bother to use separate soaps for your face and hands, but it felt nice.

A safe topic of conversation, probably.

It took more effort than she’d care to admit to make herself open the door and go back to the main room. She couldn’t stay in the bathroom all night though, and the window was too small to climb out of.

When she came back to the kitchen Agatha had changed into sleepwear and a robe, looking very cosy, and she handed Nairi a mug of grassy chamomile tea. The ceramic was almost too hot to touch, setting Nairi’s raw fingertips on fire as she took it. She took a burning sip, giving Agatha an awkward smile in thanks.

“It’s a little late for me,” said Agatha apologetically. “But I sleep fairly hard, so I promise not to stab you when you come in.”

Nairi forced a laugh, not sure how else to respond. “Thanks. Sleep well?”

Agatha nodded, smiling warmly at her. “I will. Tell Linden to get home safe for me?”

“Sure,” said Nairi.

Agatha leaned up on tiptoe and kissed her lightly before Nairi could say or do anything else, then padded across to the bedroom with a small wave.

Nairi watched her shadow move around in the space between the door frame and the floor for several minutes before the light shut off, leaving her alone in the main room of the apartment. She glanced at the couch, and turned on the spot, taking her tea over to the table and sitting in the chair in the corner. There was a stack of books on the counter next to her and she grabbed one at random. It was a well-worn paperback branding itself a ‘classic’, and the decidedly vintage style of writing with the cramped print demanded a high level of focus that Nairi threw herself into, determined not to think of anything else.

Between it and the chamomile her nerves eventually soothed, and by the time her phone chirped with Linden’s text her mug was empty and she was no longer hyper-aware of her own heartbeat. The quiet hum of Agatha’s electronics and the difficulty of parsing what was happening on the page kept her present and relaxed.

She set down the paperback, reading Linden’s dry check in.

Lind A: out safe omw home Lind A: very boring dude no danger except for warts :p Lind A: gonna bleach my feet lol grabbed a taxi no mugging i promise xox

Nairi tapped out a quick response.

Glad I don’t have to kill anyone. Agatha says get home safe.

Lind A: safe and comfy :) Lind A: tell her she’s a bitch lol Lind A: get some SLEEP!!

Will do.

Nairi waited a few moments, but there was no further response. She set the phone down and looked over to the dark door of Agatha’s bedroom, legs tensing a little with the shift to move to stand. She chewed her lip, staring, then picked up the book and leaned back in her chair again.

#serial fiction #lgbt fiction #110 #series honey tree #book muay thai

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thegodshavehorns · 3 years

Text

Capture the Wind (3/5)

Chapter 3: Kriegspiel

At her next visit, the Seer doesn’t mention posters or Sylphs. You don’t bring it up. Why bother? She must already know. She has to know. She knows when you think about it. You’re thinking about it. Stop thinking about it!

“John,” she says, snapping you out of your distraction and back to your lesson. "Look at the board."

You sigh and roll your eyes. "What, am I in checkmate again?” you drawl sarcastically. And then, you stop, mouth open. Because you're not in checkmate.

She's in checkmate.

You don't understand. How is this possible? You hadn't even been thinking about it. “No way,” you say.

The Seer is all grins and teeth. “Yes, way. It's not that hard, is it, to beat a blind woman at chess?"

"But, you're not..."

There is no fanfare. She simply resets the board, into a new setup. “Again.”

This time, you lose again, as you try to somehow do what you did before without fully remembering what it was that you did. As she wins, she flicks the white king off the board like she would one of her ever-present coins. Rude. You sigh, and get ready to reset the board.

“John. It’s your move.”

You blink at her. “You took my king.”

She smiles. “The white king. When the white king dies, the game doesn’t end. It begins.”

And she takes a set of blue pieces out of that nowhere space where she keeps everything. They don’t look like any chess pieces you’ve ever seen, and she sets them up in an unfamiliar configuration.

“John. Move.”

Your new pieces move strangely. They teleport, they revive, they control the opponent’s pieces. You are not even sure you’re controlling them completely. “What is this?”

The Seer just keeps grinning. “Nyrblish 5th dimensional psion-chess. Much more fun than the human version.”

The board changes. It becomes three dimensional, spins into odd shapes, tesseracts, and you can’t quite make sense of what’s happening. “I don’t think I can play this.”

“Try.”

You try, but the board looks like something Escher would sketch in his spare time. Your head hurts, looking at it. “I can’t.”

“Do it anyway.”

“Look, Lady Justice, maybe you can do this kind of thing, but I’m only- I’m a kid! I’m a human, I can’t play chess in five dimensions!”

“Are you sure, John Egbert?”

“Yes, I’m sure I can’t-”

“Are you sure that you’re human?”

You stop at that. Your mouth goes dry.

“Well… well yeah, I-”

“You might want to think, John, about what is holding you back.” And the Seer packs up her chess, all five dimensions of it. And she leaves.

-----------------------------

Your dad ruins everything.

Why did he have to clean your room? Make your bed? You can do that yourself, you’re fourteen for godssakes!

When you return home from coding summer camp, your poster, your poster signed by the goddess of Space, is lying on the kitchen counter, open for the whole world to see. There is a post-it note attached.

Son,

When I get home, we will Talk.

Shit shit SHIT. He found the poster. He found the poster

You are so dead. Should you destroy the evidence? No, it’s too late for that.

Maybe you should run away. No, that’s stupid, where would you go? Anna’s? The Church? That idea is stupid, so stupid, squawking-like-an-imbecile-and-shitting-on-your-desk-level stupid, and you are not going to do that.

You pace back and forth, trying to think what you are going to say. You don’t know what to do or who to confide in.

Anna can’t help you. The Seer probably won’t, since even though YOU didn’t write the name or ever speak it aloud, you’re pretty sure keeping the autograph of another god in the house breaks her rules.

But… she never got mad about it. And she must have known, right?

You decide to risk it. You sit on the floor in a meditative position, take a deep breath, and say aloud: “…Hey, Seer of Mind? I know I don’t usually ask you for anything, but… my dad found a poster with the name of the S- the Godmother on it. Do you have any advice?”

You wait for a while. Nothing. The house is empty and silent.

Then, your computer, from upstairs, makes the faint beep can only mean you’re being IM’d.

Anna?

You go upstairs and look at the screen. The chum-handle is unfamiliar.

-- gallowsCalibrator [GC] began pestering ghostlyTrickster [GT]at 17:43 --

GC: JOHN, YOU H4V3 TO T4K3 R3SPONS1B1L1TY FOR YOUR OWN 4CT1ONS.

GC: TRY TO T4K3 TH1S 4S 4NOTH3R L3SSON.

GC: JUST L1K3 4LL TH3 OTH3RS.

GT: wait

GT: are you the seer?

GT: you use pesterchum?

GT: weird

GC: 1 US3 WH4T3V3R 1 N33D TO US3

GC: 1T’S T1M3 TO ST4ND UP FOR YOURS3LF, JOHN.

GC: YOUR F4TH3R 1S HOM3.

GC: DO YOU HAV3 WH4T IT T4K3S TO F4C3 H1M?

You can’t believe this. You can hear your dad’s car pull into the driveway.

This is what, another test for you to fail? Another opportunity to get beaten up? Did she ignore the poster just so that your dad would find it later?

Another lesson, just like all the others. Sure, another lesson in pain and bullshit.

You are sick of this. You are so, so sick of this.

You hear the door downstairs open, then close. You don’t want to do this, so you delay the inevitable by straightening your bookshelf and re-sorting your DVD collection.

It’s six-thirty by the time you head downstairs, every step feeling like you’re ascending a gallows.

Gods, you really don’t want to do this.

Your dad is sitting at the table, next to the incriminating poster, reading a newspaper and smoking his pipe. You know it has to be bad, when he’s smoking.

“Son,” he says, not looking up from the paper. “Have a seat.”

You sit, and he slowly, methodically folds up the newspaper, still puffing on the pipe. The sitting and waiting is like torture. Like that Chinese torture thing where they drip water on your head. You stare fixedly at your knees.

“Son,” he says again. “I know it can be hard, to be different from the other kids. And it can feel like no one understands.”

That was not what you expected your dad to say. You expected him to berate you about the poster.

“I know that there are some kids who will pick out anything that makes a person different from the crowd,” your dad continues. “And atheism makes you very different.” He sighs. “I wish you had come to me about this.”

You realize that your dad is giving you a very convenient excuse.

Your dad leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “I do not want you to be pressured into being something that you're not.”

You decide to take the proffered ‘out.’

“Oh,” you grunt. “Okay. Sure.”

Your dad taps the poster with his index finger. “Son,” he says, but you interrupt him.

“I didn’t ask for the poster, Dad! It was a gift. I didn’t ask for it.”

Your dad smiles thinly. “At least now I’m getting more out of you than monosyllables.”

You lapse back into a sullen silence.

“It’s not the poster, John. It’s the letter that was with it.”

You blanch. Shit. You didn’t even think of that.

“It seems to be implying that you’ve gone to church, and that you are grounded. Which is not, currently, the case.”

You try to breathe deeply. Calm your thoughts, and lie through your buck teeth.

“I didn't go to church, but she wanted me to go to church... I mean, I might have gone once or something, but I had to make an excuse not to. I had to not go, so I said I was grounded.” You try to look your dad in the eye as you speak.

“Son, you just gave me two different stories about church in as many seconds.”

Wow, you’re just digging this hole deeper for yourself, aren’t you?

Your dad shrugs. “She sounds like a good friend. If she really is, then she will understand that you simply don't worship any gods, and it won't matter.” There is a pause, during which time you say nothing. “You should tell her the truth. If she cares, then I don't think that she is really such a good friend.”

You try to think of a good excuse, before you respond. “She is a good friend, Dad. I did not ask for the poster. She... she went to this event and I guess she thought it would be a nice thing to do, that's all.”

“Be that as it may. I think that you should tell her, but that is your decision to make.” Your dad takes a long drag on his pipe. “But there is something else we need to talk about. They did not stop beating you up, did they? The bullies from school?”

“No,” you mumble. “School was fine.”

“Your old man isn't blind, Son. I know what a bruise looks like.”

You sink into your chair. “I can handle it.”

Your dad fixes you with a very Stern Fatherly Look, and you sink down even lower, trying to disappear.

“How many months has it been? I should have spoken to you sooner.” He reaches across the table to put a Solid Patriarchal Hand on your shoulder. “Son, it is okay to admit that you need help. Real men know when the situation is too big to handle. It is not a sign of weakness. Do you understand me?”

Your dad still has no clue. But you don’t want him to think that you’re being beaten up, when you’re not, not really. You suddenly have an idea.

“It’s not like that,” you say, shaking your head. “It’s not bullying. It’s like, you know Fight Club? It's kind of like that. Only without the anti-government conspiracy and the multiple personality stuff. And I don't have a Brad Pitt. I'm just learning how to defend myself and stuff. I am getting tougher! It's not too big to handle. I am fine. I don't need help.”

Your dad gives you a Stern Fatherly Look, and you realize that he doesn’t buy it.

“Son, we are not leaving this table until you tell me the truth. I have already left this alone for too long.”

The truth? Well… what if you tell a partial truth? "Okay so there's this... girl. And she is really religious, and she thinks that she will help me find the gods if she teaches me how to fight and stuff. Martial arts."

Your dad sighs. “Do not tell me that my son thinks that he has to be beaten up to catch a girl's eye.”

What? Does he think you feel that way about the Seer? “No,” you state emphatically. “I don’t like, like her! And I do not think she likes me, either. At all, really.”

Your dad raises an eyebrow. “Well, at least I understand why you went to church, now.” Your dad sighs. “I don’t even want to know which gods this girl favors. If my son likes a girl that beats him up and calls it devotion, then... well, I may have to live with it. But you, Son, should not have to pretend that you are something that you’re not.”

“What? No, I’m not talking about Anna! Two different people.” This whole conversation is a mess. “And anyway, I don’t like them! I mean, I like Anna, but as a friend!”

“I see,” says your dad. “There is this one girl that you like enough to go to church for, and then there is this other, completely different, girl who you are willing to get beaten up by.”

“Yes, that is what is happening!” You are getting angry, now.

Your dad sighs and closes his eyes. “I am unsure whether to be proud or annoyed that my son is such a poor liar.” He leans forward, and takes another puff on his pipe. “You need to come clean with this girl, whether there is one of her or two. You are an atheist. If they really care about you then they will accept that.”

You count back the weeks. It’s been exactly four months and one week and two days since you first spoke to the Seer. Is your dad going to find out? You don’t want him to find out. You want deeply to prove that the Seer can be wrong, that you’re not as pathetically bad at keeping secrets as she thinks.

But it's been exactly 4 months, one week, two days. And, you realize that you have a choice. The Seer could be right… but it’s in your control.

You could say, “Yes, okay Dad.” And that would be that, for now. But it would just delay the inevitable: your dad would find out about the Seer tomorrow.

Or… you could make sure the Seer was wrong, for once.

You squeeze your eyes shut tight, and say, very quietly, “I’m not.”

Your dad pauses mid-puff. “Excuse me?”

You have to be brave. You have to do this. You twist your fingers into the fabric of your shirt, and say more clearly; “I’m not an atheist.”

Your dad takes his pipe out of his mouth, and lays it on the table. He looks grave. “You do not know what the gods are like, John. I am trying to protect you. Religion is dangerous, and you should stay away from it. I do not want to see you get hurt.”

This isn’t making any sense. “But Dad, it's not like pretending that the gods are not important makes them not exist. If they're dangerous, shouldn't we pay them respect? I mean, not make them mad, but just... you know, be normal about it? I mean, a lot of people are religious, Dad! Like, everyone! The only atheist I know is you!”

Very suddenly, your dad slams his fist into the table, making you jump. “We are not like other people!” Then, he abruptly slumps, and seems to try and compose himself. “I am sorry. I am not angry with you, John. I am scared.”

That takes you by surprise. You did not expect him to say that. “Dad? What are you talking about?”

Your dad looks haunted. “John, when you were an infant…” He swallows. “When you were an infant, I received a visit from the Flaming-Eyed God.”

And your dad tells you. About the warning, the threat, the gods made on your life. About how they told him not to pray, just like the Seer told you.

“John, the Mage told me that the other gods would do anything to keep you from doing… whatever it was they did not want to see happen. Do you understand what ‘anything’ means?”

You don’t want to hear this. “Yeah, but... I mean, what if some of the gods are protecting me from the others? Like the Flaming-Eyed God, and the Calibrator of the Gallows? I mean, I... I didn't know about any of this. But if I have this destiny or whatever, shouldn't I do what I can to like, fulfill it?”

“John.” Your dad sounds incredulous. “We are talking about the living gods. If they wanted to kill you, you would be dead before you could blink.”

You roll your eyes, but he continues. “The gods don’t mind atheists. We don’t draw their attention. They only hear you when—John, if you have been praying…”

You don’t say anything, but you know your guilt is written all over your face. You stare at the table, but can feel your dad’s eyes boring into you.

“John,” he says. “What have you said while you were praying?” You look up at your dad. He looks pained, like someone just stomped on his foot.

“Not much,” you say. “I usually couldn’t think of anything to pray about, really…”

He sighs. “Thank goodness.”

“But Dad…” Too late to go back now. “You’re wrong, kind of. About gods and atheists.”

“What do you mean?”

You interlock your fingers and look back at the table. “The gods do pay attention to atheists.”

You see your dad’s eyes widen. “John, have they spoken to you?”

Your stupid dad. You don’t look at him. “Yeah.” And then, because that doesn’t feel like enough: “I’m sorry. She told me not to tell you.”

“She…” Your dad’s voice is hollow, his expression fearful. You hate it. You hate seeing your dad looking so frightened.

“Lady Justice,” you clarify. “She said she’d be training me for some kind of destiny, or something.”

Your dad closes his eyes, and rests his forehead in one of his hands. When he speaks, his voice is breaking. You hate the sound of it. “I am sorry, John. I am so sorry. I should have told you sooner.”

Several long moments pass in silence. This is so uncomfortable. That the Seer’s prophecy is off by one day is a cold comfort. “Dad…”

Then, your dad looks up, and gets to his feet. There is something steely in his expression, something that wasn’t there before. “Son. Pack your things. We’re leaving.”

“What?”

“No questions, John.” His tone books no room for disobedience. “Do it.”

You don’t want to do this; this is crazy! But you've never seen your dad talk like that before. It’s kind of scary.

So, you get up, and pack your things. You don’t know how much to pack, but you figure a few days’ worth of clothes is probably fine. By the time you finish and come back downstairs, your dad has already packed his own possessions into the car.

“How long will we be gone for?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he answers, and you worry a little that you didn’t pack enough.

Before you both drive off, you check the pesterlogs on your desktop. You don’t have any new ones from the Seer, but you do leave one for Anna:

GT: i’m leaving town for a few days

GT: so i will be afk

GT: but i will be online again soon.

GT: i have a lot to tell you.

And who knows? Now that the proverbial cat is out of its bag, maybe you can even tell her the truth.

#terezi pyrope #john egbert #dad egbert #godstuck #godstuck fic #homestuck #homestuck fanfiction #capture the wind #tw: abuse #revision

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jbbuckybarnes · 4 years

Text

Time Stops

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Desc: This is for @ussgallifreyfics #gallifreys500 writing challenge. Not beta read. Prompt: “They say when you meet the love of your life, time stops, and that’s true.” - Big Fish Warnings: FLUFF

MASTERLIST

They say when you meet the love of your life, time stops, and that’s true. You’ve seen it with friends that had met their soulmates the day they were ready to. They stopped aging. When you turned 18 you could find your soulmate and never age again. While that was beautiful, it also put a lot of pressure on you and a lot of pity on people growing old. Usually people would just feel who their soulmate is, but there also were soulmate marks. They weren’t big or anything to brag with, but yours was a little heart-shaped darker spot on the back of your right hand. Right between the thumb and the pointer finger connection. Definitely a space you massaged a lot when you got nervous.

Right now was one of those situations. You were waiting in line to get onto a plane to New York City. A trip you made once or twice a year to meet your friends. While you loved New York, you hated flying. The many alien attacks and whatnot of the last decade weren’t helping with your anxiety. The plane being delayed on top of that was even worse for your mind going in circles. A big man sat down next to you, putting down a duffle bag and getting out a book with the title, “Love, Simon.” Wasn’t that a book about a closeted teenage boy? Didn’t match up at all with the giant frame the man had, but you smiled to yourself. You scrolled through Instagram, created a new collection for cute cat pictures and went on about your anxiety soothing. When you were finally boarding, your anxiety went through the roof again. Thankfully you had downloaded a whole documentary for the flight, otherwise you’d go insane. When you were situated in the plane and had gotten out your headphones, the giant man found his seat, the one which just so happened to be next to you. It was about to get cozy, but you weren’t complaining. You’d rather have a giant man with a good taste in books next to you than a creep or a family with a newborn baby. After your heart almost jumped out of your chest while you took off you finally could relax and start watching your space documentary. Every now and then you felt him flip a page in his book very delicately. Your hand landed on the little table your phone was situated on to give him more space, which is when you started to feel the stare on you. Well, now it WAS a little creepy. He tapped your shoulder and you stopped the show and looked at him. Woah, wait, you knew that face. That was Bucky Barnes, wasn’t it? “Sorry for interrupting, I just...I saw you like space and, uh, could you tell me what documentary that is? It looks awesome.” he gave a shy smile before looking away, right hand going through his beard. Wait a damn second. “Huh?” he looked back at you confused. “I said that out loud.” you stated to yourself and closed your eyes. “Yes, you did.” Now he was grinning at you, eyeing your slightly flustered face. “Uh, your soulmate mark. Are you…?” your eyes went from his eyes to his hand. “What makes you think that?” “You didn’t really age but you also were in cryo a lot, so it’s quite difficult to tell.” you grinned. He smiled wide and looked down on his hand before shaking his head, “No, haven’t found them. I don’t think I ever will. 70 years is quite a lot-” He saw your right hand come into his field of vision and his eyes went wide and back up at you. You were amused at the weird situation you had just put each other into and you couldn’t deny that you liked how he turned into a soft dorky man. But maybe that was just him outside of the news. “So...uh...wow.” Another time that he went through his hair. “Yeah,” you looked up at him with shimmery eyes. You respected the man in front of you so much for what he went through and that he was still here. But that giant dork that looked illegally good was your soulmate? That must be a dream. “So...would you like to go on a date anytime soon? I’d love to get to know you.” he got a little confidence back and gave an unsure smile to you. “Of course, I know this really great brunch place in the Upper West Side.” you smiled a little giddy. “Spring Natural Kitchen?” he asks. “Spring Natural Kitchen.” you nodded chuckling. “Wanda told me about it. She loves testing new places whenever she’s not on call.” “Sounds like I’d get along great with her.” “So...why are you flying to New York? You live there?” he finally asks and you shake your head. “I live near Denver and come here sometimes to meet friends and have a good time for a week or two.” “Which city’s better?” he smirked. “I like both, but I have a job back in Denver that I love. I’m working in a very laid back modern restaurant, café kinda establishment.” you explained. “Well, if you’re my soulmate, you might as well open up a second one of those in New York City, cause that sounds great.” By now he was so deep in your flirting battle that he totally forgot that he just met you. “You just want that cinnamon cupcake goodness.” you laughed. “I’d never say no to any food, I think that gets very clear when you look at me.” he looked down on himself. “Hm, yeah, a little.” You grinned, “Hungry giant.” “Oh, we’re already starting pet names, huh?” his brows went up. The giggle escaping you widened his big smile. ___ *You ready to get picked up and judged by Sam Wilson?* *Why not by Wanda? Or literally anyone that’s not Sam?* *I ask myself that every single day, darling.* *I’m ready by the way...and ready to fight Wilson if I need to.* *Sure, darling.* you could practically feel him grinning at his phone screen. *And by that I mean, if he dares to, you’ll defend me anyway, cause you’re cute like that.* Not too long after the AirBnB’s doorbell rang and you ran to the door in your comfy outfit. It was a brunch date, not a fancy gala. When you opened the door you were met with his audacity to wear a leather jacket. “Aw, come on. Really? A leather jacket? Like you don’t know that it’s super hot?” you pouted and were pulled into a hug. “You look cute. Is that Totoro on your sweater?” he held you and looked down on you. “Old man knows Totoro, check.” you grinned. “Hey, I’ve been catching up for 4 years. There needs to be SOME stuff that sticks.” “Could the lovebirds that both can’t drive please move their asses a little faster?” you heard out of a car behind Bucky. “Could the angry bird please chill?” Bucky answered without even looking at him. “C’mon, let’s go and give the man a break.” you chuckled before taking his hand and dragging him towards the car. “So, tell me about yourself. Anything that I don’t already know from social media and our chats.” he grinned. “I stress bake, my favorite shows are all documentaries, I’d love to have a cat, I’m into astrology, I love to draw and paint, my music taste is a literal dumpster fire and I really like sneakers.” you counted a few that you found to be relevant to yourself. “I’m still learning to cook new foods. I actually have a cat, her name’s Alpine, she’s an absolute whirlwind but she’s the most loyal little thing ever.” he smiled. “What kinda cat is she?” you asked excited. “British Shorthair and white.” he beamed. “I already love her. I’d love to get a completely black cat.” you leaned onto your hands. “We could.” he squinted with a cheeky smile. “You’re already thinking about moving my ass to New York, aren’t you?” you chuckled. “You’re my soulmate, why not? It’s not like you’re a shot in the dark or anything like that.” That made you feel warm inside, very very warm. “Yeah, guess you’re right.” you looked at the table flustered. “So, assuming you would stay here…” he got your attention back and god were his eyes sure of you staying here, “...would you actually open up a cool place like this?” “I’d love to but...renting a place like this in New York City? Making it look nice and advertising it? That’s so hard.” “Hi, you’re sitting in front of the longest prisoner of war. If you think Sam didn’t sue the shit out of the military to get me paid for that, then you’re wrong.” he grinned accomplished. “Bucky, you can’t-” “I can, tell me what you’d want to do.” he smiled at you softly, grabbing your hand. After a few moments of grasping the moment you continued, “Well, similar to this place, but with cakes, pies and cookies. And with a completely different color scheme. Very bright, like white and some pastel colors. I’d try to find tons of recipe’s online and let you try them until I have like 12 good and special ones that work. I’d always have a jar of triple chocolate cookies and a chocolate bomb cake. Maybe even sweet ice cream in summer? I’d have chessboard tiled wall behind the counter and hang nice art work in the rest of the place. I’d probably have someone bring in dog cake every week so they also get some good food. I’d make milkshakes, have a barista working and would create some special hot chocolate mix. Maybe I’d do something themed after you. Like little cookies with the- wait, do you hate the red star on your old arm? I know it’s very much a connection to the Sowjets, but I don’t really look at it like that.” “I’m neutral about it. I write autographs on cards with red stars all the time.” he shrugged. “Then there will be red star cookies. Maybe something themed after your bird friend?” you grinned. “He needs to work for it.” he laughed. “I make a mad cinnamon banana milkshake. That would sell very well.” you mumbled before taking a sip from the drink in front of you. “Cookies with red chocolate melted into it...that’s a good one for Wanda, isn’t it?” you smiled shyly, trying to not misjudge his friends. “I love that idea. Maybe something egg based for Sam, you know, cause he’s a falcon. I’ll shut my mouth…” he grinned and watched you snort laugh. The waffles you ordered were set down in front of you and you continued talking about the interior of your dream place. “I don’t know if I’d do it in Manhattan or Brooklyn. I mean Brooklyn literally has cute food places as its elevator pitch.” “I guess it depends where you’d find a place.” “Yeah, forgot, we’re in the ultimate place of renting stuff.” you grumbled and heard him chuckle. ___ “Finally!” you jumped around in the empty space that was about to become your own little store. You’d been with Bucky for three months now and your old boss was more than happy to have a new venture. And you were more than happy to have gotten such a great soulmate. He even got his driver's license to drive you around and go on little trips with you when he wasn’t working. Brooklyn Heights, right next to the Brooklyn Bridge, with an apartment right above. “Let’s measure and buy a nice kitchen for you to bake cupcakes in, darling.” he grabbed you close. “You just wanna eat, honey.” you pouted. “Of course, I eat everything you make.” he planted a kiss onto your forehead. “Hm, okay, let’s measure and drive to Home Depot too.” you smiled content and got another kiss. “You know, I think I found you at the right time. I like how you look. Not a day too young or too old.” you mumbled. “I would have loved you at any age I could’ve found you.” he hummed. “Yeah, that’s because you’re a hopeless romantic.” you giggled. “Only for you, darling.” “Love you,” you mumbled before pressing your lips against his, “so much.” “Let’s get your dream kitchen,” he said while lightly slapping your ass. “Hey! Watch your hands, Barnes.” you playfully scolded him. “Yes, ma’am.” he rolled his eyes before picking you up and carrying you to the damn car himself.

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aweirdkindofyellow · 3 years

Text

The Royal Invitation, Pt.15

Aerowyn Matilde George Rothchester might seem like a very long name, but it definitely is not for a royal in the Kingdom of Dalewin.

After her grandfather, the beloved king, passed away, Aerowyn (also known as Winny) is called back from her art school in New York. She’s thrown back into her royal duties, expected to know what to do.

But with the Royal advisor on tour with the new king, Winny is left to figure things out with his stepson. The only problem, he has no idea what he’s doing, after all he’s only the lead singer in a band.

Co-written story with @scream-tears.

Chapter 15

Winny’s POV:

I stared at Alex for a while. His eyes were shut and he looked asleep, I just needed to be sure that he actually was. When he didn’t even twitch after a few more minutes, I carefully slipped out of my bunk. As soon as I was standing on the floor, I checked up on Alex again, gladly seeing that he still hadn’t moved. I tiptoed over and gently closed the curtain so he could no longer be distrubed by anything that happened in the corridor.

I turned around and went to the next bottom bunk, squatting down so I was face to face with its curtain. As I learned to do, I softly knocked on the plastic board to get the attention of whoever was on the other side. However, I got no response. I rolled my eyes a little and knocked again, a bit louder, but still trying my best not to wake up anybody else around.

When I still didn’t get a response, I sighed and just yanked open the curtain a little. Jack stared back at me like a deer caught in headlights. The only light illuminating his face was coming from his laptop and he was wearing huge headphones. I raised an eyebrow at him, still waiting to get some kind of reaction. When his initial shock wore off, he moved his headphones to free one ear to listen to me.

“Everybody’s asleep!” I whispered.

He didn’t make a sound when he put away his laptop and headphones, only to poke his head out of the bunk and look left and right to see if I was correct. When he saw that I was indeed not lying, he pulled me into his bunk. I was immediately straddling him and I quickly closed the curtain before anybody would wake up and walk past.

“Come here,” he groaned and pulled me down to start a fiery kiss, immediately already tugging at my shirt.

We did our best to be as silent as possible. However, it was inevitable that occasionally a limb or another body part smacked into a wall. That bunk was barely big enough for two people to squish in, let alone to people to get it on. We managed to make it work. And it seemed like nobody had noticed anything. Or at least nobody said anything or gave us any weird looks. Not even Alex seemed to suspect a thing. He just showed up excitedly for our morning walks every day, always expecting me in my bunk.

I couldn’t believe I was saying it, but it was quite a difficult and tiring secret to keep up. Staying up late with Jack just to have to leave before I fell asleep only to have to wake up early-ish in the morning for Alex? Exhausting.

But I was having fun. I was still forever grateful that Alex had made the decision to let me come with him. Even if I was alone for a little while. There were no pressures on me here. I got to do anything I wanted. Rather than jobs being piled on jobs, I now had to actively seek if I could help out anywhere. It was absolutely magnificent.

I was wandering around the backstage area of the arena for the night while world famous rock stars All Time Low were busy doing a whole list of different interviews. You’d be surprised how many interesting things you can find in the deep dark crevices of arenas. Or they were just plain boring. There really wasn’t much of an in between.

I was walking through a hallway and past one of the dressing rooms when my name was called out. “Aerowyn!”

Without thinking twice, I turned around and entered the room, looking up to see Mark Hoppus staring right back at me. It seemed like I had just randomly and rudely walked in. “I’m sorry, I thought I heard my name.”

“Aerowyn,” he repeated.

I shook my head, realising just how big my mistake had been. I tried to act oblivious, like he was saying a word that I didn’t know. “I’m sorry, what?

“You might have been able to fool the others, but you can’t fool me,” he laughed lightly and warmly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I continued to try and play it off.

If my identity came out, things could go horribly wrong. Maybe not necessarily in the circle of the bands on tour. But it was bound to get out. And if my behaviour or drinking and casually sleeping with Jack came out, it would be a scandal. They were pretty chill in Dalewin, but that didn’t mean everything was suddenly acceptable.

“Oh, come on, I’m not an idiot!” Mark rebutted. “A quick google search into Dalewin was all I needed. I hear about a country I never knew existed, I take time to learn about it.”

He pulled out his phone from his back pocket and tapped a few times on the screen before handing it to me. I looked down at it in my hands and saw a photo of ‘The Royal Family of The Kingdom of Dalewin’. It was a relatively old picture. I was about 16 and looked a lot younger. It was taken for my grandfather’s birthday that year. There was also a picture of the entire family, but this one was just my grandpa, my parents, Gus-Gus, and me. I was wearing some light pink dress that I could still remember to this day. My mom had refused to let me wear it, but my grandpa somehow managed to change her mind. Everybody else was wearing much more sophisticated colours.

I shrugged and went to give the phone back. “I look a bit like her, but that isn’t me.”

“Swipe to the next photo.”

I did as instructed and went to the next photo he had prepared for me. It was one of the photos taken for my dad’s coronation. Specifically one that consisted of just me and Augustus. I couldn’t even try to hide behind the fact that it just looked like me. This was a close up of us. Even the birthmark on my neck was visible.

“Okay…” I nodded. I couldn’t deny it anymore. “That is me.”

“Pretty foolproof cover,” he chuckled as I defeatedly handed his phone back.

“Well, usually it works better when I’m just Matilde George from New York with a funny accent, not Matilde from Dalewin.”

“So hiding your identity is a common occurrence, then?”

“Only when I’m in New York,” I explained and looked behind me when I heard footsteps, but it was just somebody walking past. “It makes studying there just a little easier. Nobody constantly reporting on my every move, or hoping to blackmail me.”

“You seem pretty serious about keeping it a secret.” He frowned, also briefly glancing at the door.

“If Alex were to know that you knew, he’d start forcing me to act normal again.” I sighed and tugged on my hair. “I was hoping to get away from that.”

“Normal?” He raised an eyebrow at me in amusement. “You mean to tell me you don’t usually chug beer after beer?”

“Art student Matilde does, Princess Aerowyn does not.”

“I’m assuming Aerowyn also can’t have that thing going on with Jack and Alex.”

“Thing going on?” I questioned with confusion.

“Don’t act oblivious again.”

“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about,” I laughed awkwardly.

I didn’t consider whatever I was doing with Jack a ‘thing’. A ‘thing’ sounded way more serious. Jack and I were only having sex when it suited us, nothing else. And Alex? There definitely wasn’t anything going on there. He was one of the only good friends I had made as Aerowyn in ages. All my friends back in New York loved fun Matilde, not responsible Aerowyn.

“Alright… if you say so.” Mark gave me a very suspicious look.

Before I could assure him there was really nothing going on, Alex came rushing into the room.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over the place for you!!” He exclaimed in relief, coming up behind me.

I looked at Mark with a hint of fear. He had the power in his hands. With just a word, he could ruin it all. Usually, my fate didn’t depend on one person so much. I was very used to having at least a little control. People did help me make choices, and I often did follow them, but I did always have the last word. Unless it was towards my parents or higher ranking royals, of course.

“Matilde and I were just discussing gardening tips with each other,” Mark quickly made up.

“Gardening tips?” Alex looked as puzzled as I tried to be earlier.

“Yep, you know, since she works with horses and stuff…”

“Ah! Right, yes.” He nodded in understanding before directing his next part to me. “I was going to go out for coffee and you’re coming with me!”

“I’m coming with you?” I challenged.

“Yeah, live a little,” he scoffed and pulled on my arm to drag me out of the room.

I made eye contact with Mark one more time and mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him. He responded with a wink and a smile as Alex continued to force me to join him.

#all time low fanfiction #Alex Gaskarth fanfiction #jack barakat fanfiction #all time low imagines #alex gaskarth imagine #jack barakat imagine #The Royal Invitation #fanfiction

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 4 years

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two years too late, chapter n i n e

Carly sat on the sofa with wide eyes, the same one you had sex on only a few days before. Harry rounded the island, two cups of tea in hand that rattled against saucers beneath. Tiny white cups, blue details around the rim--you wondered where he got them.

“S’hot,” he said, setting them down carefully on a glass coffee table in front of you. Carly, with a smile on her face, looked down at the tea and then back up at him, “thanks.”

He offered a smile in her direction before heading back to the kitchen, fetching a third cup for himself. A record buzzed along through the speakers of a turntable in the corner of the room, when he came back to the couch and sat next to Carly, he cleared his throat.

“Ask away,” he smiled, a look in his eyes conveyed more to you than it did to your coworker.

“Yeah,” you reached for a notebook in your bag on the floor, you pulled a pen from your pocket and uncapped it. “Maybe we can start with how it feels to be solo--which, I know, the same boring question you get all the time, but--enlighten us.”

The heated air felt stiff as it blew from vents overhead, he seemed to relax into the couch once he took a sip of tea. Carly’s presence didn’t feel uncomfortable, but it made you realize that things with Harry still felt strange.

You weren’t necessarily friends, not unless friends spend the night tangled beneath Egyptian cotton and their mornings sipping tea in oversized t-shirts.

But you also couldn’t say you were more than that. There’d been no conversation, no label, no definition. Nothing lent itself to quelling the voice at night that seemed to echo in your mind.

“S’not boring,” he laughed. “It’s uh--it’s good. Fun to branch out and try new things, took a while to get used to performing without them cause it’s so different. I’ll get more practice though, with this upcoming leg of the tour.”

“Different how?”

“Just not as many people on stage to bounce off of, energy wise. There’s less to hide behind, y’know?”

“Hide?” Carly’s eyes seemed to narrow in on him, her curiosity getting the best of her as she cracked a smile. She’d promised to hang back, let you ask the questions and guide the conversation. While your biggest interview to date might not be your most professional, you wanted to be certain that Carly’s excitement wouldn’t make it the most pathetic.

He thought on it for a second, the cup of tea resting on his knee as he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just me up there now--I get to be more myself. Not that I wasn’t in the band, by any means, but more opportunity to just be myself.”

A beat of silence passed when you scribbled on the paper in front of you: nail polish remover. You needed to pick some up on your way home. Instead of telling him that asking him questions about work felt weird, you diverted.

“Is that scary ever?”

He shrugged, offering a smile. “Not scary--but intimidating at times. Off the record, for a second,” he laughed. “Just feels cool, y’know? I’m not worried about carrying a giant reputation around like I used to. I mean--I still have a reputation and an image and whatever,” another laugh when he looked over to Carly. “But now I’m just me. Not Harry Styles of One Direction.”

“Right,” you nodded, eyes scanning his face when he looked between the two of you.

You wondered if you seemed too comfortable--if Carly would notice that you knew your way around his refrigerator or the fact that you settled easily into the couch.

“How do you think you’ve changed since the band?”

You hadn’t noticed Harry was looking at you until he turned his head, Carly’s question processing as he took another sip of tea. He hummed for a second, a sigh escaping his lips before he shrugged again. “You mean from the band to now or from before the band to now?”

“Before the band,” Carly’s eyes fluttered over to you, a subtle nod at the relationship between the two of you that spanned over a decade.

“I’d like to think I’m the same,” the corner of his mouth pulled up when he stole a sideways glance at you. He set the tea down in front of him, a clink against the coffee table, but then let out a hefty sigh. “Not possible, I guess. Might be a better question for Y/N.”

They both turned to you, you plucked a piece of lint off of your sock. A shrug of your shoulders, an eye roll when he winked at you. “You’re different in a lot of ways, and yet somehow exactly the same.”

“How does one manage that?” He pressed, a dimple appearing on his left cheek, afternoon light seemed to dance through the floor to ceiling windows.

“I mean--” you looked around the room, taking in the art on the walls and the fact that his flat looked like it ate yours for breakfast. “Didn’t think the kid with plaid bedding would be living it up on Greenwich Street. But you still have bad taste in dessert and a knack for bothering me.”

“I see,” he said, another playful glance in your direction before Carly cleared her throat.

“Mind if I use the restroom?”

“Down the hall,” Harry threw a thumb over his shoulder, slurping loudly at the beverage in his hand.

She let her eyebrows shoot north, nodding her head towards the hallway you’d padded down barefoot numerous times. “Join?”

You looked back at Harry, his thumbs moved over the screen of his phone--likely reassuring someone on his team that everything was fine, despite the fact that they weren’t there. His publicist had been hesitant at first, an interview without a chaperone? He told you that he begged for them to hang back, insisting that this was likely going to be the best interview he ever did. Honest and authentic were the words you heard him use on the phone one night. You ignored the pressure that suddenly fell on your shoulders, hoping you’d do it justice.

“Be right back,” you said quietly, disappearing down the hallway behind your coworker. You looked over your shoulder to ensure privacy before whispering.

“Why do you need me to pee with you?”

She pulled you into the bathroom, switched the lights on before smiling at you. “He’s so flirty with you!”

“What?” You said quickly, eyes squinted to adjust to the brightness that now reflected off of white marble. “No he’s not.”

“Y/N--yes he is. He’s so sweet to you and nice and I know he’s just nice in general but, like,” she raised her eyebrows suggestively, another smile when you rolled your eyes.

“No, Carly, that’s ridiculous.”

“Has there ever been anything between you guys?” Another wiggle of her eyebrows.

“Between me and him?!” More heat rose to your cheeks, back against the door, another eye roll when she nodded. “No! No drunken teenage hook ups and no spin the bottle or whatever you’re imagining.”

“Well, maybe there could be,” she shrugged.

“Can I go now?”

“Yeah,” she laughed.

You turned quickly, hand on the knob to escape back to the living room, your lies would give Harry a good laugh.

“Oh, shit, look,” Carly spoke again, frozen in her tracks, her eyes on the blue deodorant on the counter that you’d picked up at Duane Reade a few nights earlier.

If you were going to be staying over some nights, you needed a few things here. Apparently you’d left the deodorant on the counter after using it, and neither Harry or you thought to put it in the master bath where you typically showered in the morning.

“Looks like there’s someone else in the picture,” she pointed down at it. “Unless he uses Secret Shower Clean scent.”

You stifled a laugh, “wouldn’t shock me. He’s pretty feminine sometimes.”

“Oh shut up,” she rolled her eyes. “Let me pee in peace.”

“You made me come with you!” you defended, mouth open in shock from her demand.

“Go utilize the alone time I’m giving you, please and thanks.”

So you rolled your eyes for the hundredth time, making your way back to Harry in the living room. He pressed a kiss to your lips before Carly reemerged, sneaking around is fun, he decided.

You’d spent years not knowing where he was. There were times when you probably went a good week or two without thinking about him at all. But now the dimmed screen of your phone meant he was probably out with other people, too busy to talk to you or say goodnight.

Work, he’d said. Mostly work and only a little bit of play.

You eyes glossed over the headline, a trash mag online seemed to think otherwise.

Harry Styles parties with new girlfriend in Los Angeles

Alyssa let out a groan when you dropped your phone back on the table, a spoon to her lips as she took another bite of the stew she’d made. “It’s not a big deal--he gets written about like that all the time. And besides, he said there was a dinner, right?”

“S’not the dinner,” you rolled your eyes, feeling more pathetic with each passing second. “S’the drinks and stumbling out of a fancy restaurant.”

“He took you to a fancy restaurant last week!” she nearly dropped her spoon, her eyebrows knitted together when you looked up from the bowl in front of you. Chunks of carrot danced in the broth, steam floated up towards the ceiling, half of a baguette laid on a plate between you both.

Did you even have the right to be upset? Was it fair to assume he wasn’t seeing other people? A week had passed and there was even less conversation about it. You were spending more time at work dreaming up possibilities for the story, more time trying to extinguish whatever fire had sparked in Carly at the mere thought of there being something more between you and Harry.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Alyssa reassured. And maybe she was right, maybe the pounding heart when you zoomed in on photos was unnecessary. Maybe the sweat on your hairline from getting stuck in the thought of him kissing someone else was all a waste of time.

Or maybe it wasn’t.

A facetime call from Jessie the next morning over breakfast only left a bigger ball of anxiety in your stomach. She squealed excitedly when you answered, it was hard to make out her words just from the pitch of her voice. She got into a PhD programme, a wide smile on her face when she told you she’d start over the summer.

“How’s Harry?” She finally asked, pushing sunglasses over her eyes when she stepped out of the office building in which she worked. A lunchtime coffee was necessary for Jessie, she said she’d take you along. A coffee date separated by the Atlantic Ocean, she cooed. How romantic!

“He’s fine--haven’t talked to him in a while.”

Eighteen hours to be exact. You weren’t really counting, it was just that you kept opening the message thread between the two of you, a blatant reminder on your screen that his last text came through yesterday after lunch. Jessie didn’t need to know that your definition of a while had changed now that you were sleeping together.

“Yeah? You looked pretty cozy in his house the last time we talked.”

Her words weren’t challenging, more observational. She made a face at someone on the street, you assumed someone had bumped into her and withheld an apology.

Despite the lack of charge behind her words, anger bubbled in your chest when she looked at you expectantly. “Why are you always asking about him, Jessie? I’ve told you a thousand times! He reached out, we hang out sometimes. S’really not a big deal.” You pressed a button on your keurig, watching as the steam stretched towards the sky when coffee appeared in your mug.

“Whoa, relax--just curious. You used to be the girl who wanted nothing to do with him and now suddenly you’re best friends again.”

You sprinkled sugar into the liquid. “Well people grow up, Jess--he was a dick back then but, I dunno, feels different now.”

“I just, I guess I never thought you’d get over him--and over it.”

“Speaking of,” you looked over to the phone, it was propped up against a box of pasta that Alyssa had left out on the counter. “Jake told me that you left us in the bathroom.”

She was inside somewhere now, likely a Starbucks down the street from her office. Her eyes settled back on you, she pulled a hat off her head, parted lips, no noise.

“Kind of surprising to hear seeing as you knew how much I didn’t want to see him that night.”

Your heartbeat was in your ears, a whooshing that drowned out the voices of local news anchors that drifted in from the living room. Maybe Jessie meant no harm, but the look on her face told you she knew she’d caused it anyway.

“I thought it was funny at first, I didn’t know what was going to happen.”

“Clearly,” you moved the mug over towards the fridge in search of creamer. “Glad your joke was a good laugh for you.”

“Oh, Y/N, come on,” she whined, still frozen inside a coffee shop. She wasn’t in line, you could tell that she had enough privacy to be hashing it out with you. “It was years ago--things are better now. You and Harry are friends and all is back to normal.” Her voice was somewhat pleading, hoping you’d just drop it.

“Jessie I don’t care if we’re friends now,” you said quickly, picking up the phone from its resting place. “I was heartbroken by two guys and you let me stay locked in a bathroom with one of them. That’s bloody mean!”

“I suck, okay? I’m a shit friend and I deserve to rot in hell but I would like for you to remember that Bryn also knew.”

“What?”

“Bryn knew?”

“Did I say that?”

“Jessie!”

“What?!”

“She knew?!”

“Yes! I told her because I was drunk and she said it was mean but then when I told her it would force the two of you to just talk things through she also pretended to not know where you were when Jake and Adam asked.”

“You are both terrible people,” you shook your head, more pounding in your ears, more anger when you realized you couldn’t even call Harry to complain about it because he was busy and you didn’t want to bother him because you weren’t even his girlfriend. “I have to go.”

“Y/N, wait!”

“I’ll talk to you later.”

Three beeps, the iPhone signal that you were now alone in your kitchen, nothing but a steaming cup of coffee to keep you company.

Just like your mother had raised a woman of class, she also raised a woman who wasn’t too proud to admit that she was way too anxious. So on Monday afternoon when the Q train was taking far too long, you decided to give your mum a call.

She’d long been talking you off the ledge when it came to boys or friends and everything in between, but when she answered and asked how you were, you realized it was probably best to keep some details to yourself while you filled her in.

There’d been mention here and there throughout your life in regards to sexual activity, she begged you to buy condoms when you went off to Uni and she even asked after you met Charlie if you’d lost your virginity.

There were boys between he and Harry, but only a few. You decided to keep the topic of sex off the table as you elbowed your way through commuters. Instead, you told her about his flat and the fact that you now had deodorant in a cabinet in the bathroom. You told her about the real date he took you on and the way he bantered back and forth with Alyssa like they were long lost siblings.

She was excited for you, happy that whatever was going on between you looked less like the rubble of a ruined friendship and more like the foundation of something new. She’d always liked him--and something about the fact that his mum lived in the same town probably struck her as a good sign.

Only one place to visit for Christmas!

But you had to pump the brakes, the thought of spending holidays together felt so far off and unlikely that you changed the subject altogether.

“I also, uh, I’m interviewing him for work.”

“You are? Does your boss know that you’re dating him?”

You ignored the lump in your throat--dating him didn’t feel like a good descriptor. Hooking up? That felt more appropriate.

“No. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t even know that we’re friends. My coworker Carly does--but, she doesn’t know that we’ve, you know.”

“So you’ve slept with him?”

“Mum! No--I just,” a exasperated grunt escaped from your lips.

“S’fine, honey, you don’t have to tell me. M’not trying to pry.”

“All I meant was that she knows we’re hanging out.”

“Hanging out,” she repeated your words, you could picture the smirk on her face. It was the same one Katie made when she’d confronted you about it back over Christmas.

“Spending time together.”

“Sleeping at his sounds like more than just spending time together.”

Another sigh, a shift in your energy when the train pulled up. “I just don’t want to get my hopes up.”

She was quiet at that, too. You heard her take a breath before replying. “I know, sweetie.”

“He leaves for tour mid March. Story is due a month before.”

Fellow New Yorkers spilled out from between the train doors, shoving through the crowd to find their way up to street level.

“You’ll have to figure things out before he leaves, then, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The train ride was quick, only a few stops until your feet hit the pavement of your block, four stoops until you’d climb up your own. You helped Alyssa make dinner, a recipe she’d found online for homemade pierogies--far too ambitious for a work night.

But you laughed and drank wine and she danced around the kitchen when Harry’s song came on Spotify.

Look at us now, she laughed. In December we went to see him at Spotify and now he frequents our living room.

You pretended like it didn’t matter, like the dim screen of your phone didn’t sting like a papercut.

But when your phone rang at 11pm and he asked if it was too late to talk, the words I miss you felt an awful lot like a bandaid.

He sent Roger to pick you up from work three days later and told you to bring your overnight bag--you slid into the backseat after Carly left for the subway. A quick lie that you had a lot to finish up before leaving was all it took for her to wave goodbye and say she’d see you in the morning.

You’d never been this nervous to see him. Not the first time you’d gotten tickets to see the band, six months between the last time you saw him and a hug backstage before meeting the others. Jessie had seemed to stake her claim on Liam, both Adam and Jake thought it was ridiculous that she wore a crop top to a concert in the middle of Manchester.

But the stakes were higher now. You weren’t going back to Uni or texting him that his performance was great on an awards show. You were sleeping in his bed and you didn’t know what it meant.

“I’d kiss you if I could,” he let an arm wrap around your waist as he pulled you close, another back room of a restaurant, this time it was Japanese and the host knew your name when you walked through the door. Vince, a man who seemed to only own black clothes, seemed to hover behind you as the host led you through tables, a quiet spot in the back, away from the crowds.

Maybe he could sense your anxiety, maybe he could just feel that you were tense. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shook your head, cursing your expressive face and settling into the chair he’d pulled out. A glass of wine was already poured for you.

“Smalls, you look upset.”

“Long day,” you lied, a long exhale when he searched your face again.

“I was really busy,” he said it like he knew it wasn’t an excuse.

“What do you mean?” you faked a head tilt, one that hopefully looked convincing and like you weren’t acutely aware of the fact that he’d only texted four times and called once in the five days he was gone.

“I suck at communicating sometimes.”

“S’fine, Harry, m’not mad. We should talk about the interview, anyway. This is work, right?”

He licked at hip lips, his hands nervously twisting beneath the table. “I mean--I just wanted to see you. Have dinner. Catch up.”

“Well we have a story to write.”

“Y/N,” your name fell off of his lips like they were anchored to the earth beneath his feet. “You’re not my coworker. You’re not just a journalist.”

You let his words linger in the air between you, biting your tongue hard enough to draw blood. Then what am I to you?

“Okay,” you said the word because you didn’t know what else to say. Something told you that fighting with Harry in a Japanese restaurant on the Upper East Side wouldn’t look good in a tabloid, especially seeing as this was still being billed as a strictly professional relationship.

So maybe that was where the anxiety was coming from. Whitney was pressing for more of a direction on the story, and no matter how much you knew about the boy with an ink-splattered chest, you didn’t know what to say about him.

It was hard to write the story of a boy who knew you so well, one that had embarrassing memories of you and one whose life didn’t begin the second his face was broadcast on the telly. You weren’t sure how to tell that story: the one of drunken teenage nights and a shifting friendship that suddenly involved hiding from paparazzi and headlines.

Privacy was a luxury, one you were now well aware of. One that haunted your thoughts when you were riding the lift up to his flat or rushing through Union Square at rush hour.

Sharing your story of him would change the privacy you knew. It would strip every sense of it and ultimately add a new chapter that you weren’t too sure of.

But how did you write a story that wasn’t the truth? One with questions about music and girlfriends and funny celebrity run ins? How did you bite your tongue as if you didn’t know his favorite breakfast cereal or the way he washed his hair in the shower?

Agreeing to the interview suddenly felt like you had to bury the part of you that saw him as more than a voice on the radio, muffle the sounds of pleasure that came from your lips when he kissed between your legs.

He changed the topic quickly, a waiter took your order and did his best to act as if Harry wasn’t who he was. He told you about the meetings he’d had in LA, the friends he saw and the way the sea breeze blew. I didn’t miss the weather but I did miss you.

“My birthday’s next week,” he eventually said, his knife slid along his plate before he took a bite. His tone was casual.

“Yeah. Big plans, or?”

It felt like a silly question--of course he had big plans. Didn’t he have people to ensure that his plans were big and the events were thrilling?

“Dinner, I guess, with some friends and some people in New York. D’ya want to come?”

“To dinner?”

“Yeah--Alyssa’s welcome too, if she’s around.”

You were quiet for a second, a sip of wine to avoid an answer. He raised his eyebrows after a second, another bite of food into his mouth as he waited.

“I mean--don’t know if that’s a good idea, right?”

“Because of work?”

You nodded. Maybe you were taking it too far, maybe people wouldn’t care as much as you felt like they would.

But Whitney. Maybe she’d be livid about your apparent lack of regard for the standards and ethics of the field--or maybe she’d be willing to overlook this one based on the extraordinary circumstances.

It wasn’t every day that content producers at The Scoop had an in with one of the biggest celebrities, right?

But even if Whitney did overlook that, there was now the issue that you’d lied. You’d had multiple chances, meetings, phone calls with her over your shoulder to a fake PR person of Harry’s--which was really just an automated voice from your pharmacy that you’d speak over.

Yes, 2pm would be perfect--dial 1 to speak with the pharmacist--Great--dial two if you’d like--I look forward to sitting with him again.

“What’s the plan with this, Smalls?”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is when are you going to be okay with people knowing that you know me?”

You stared at the napkin on your lap, a spilled splotch of something on the corner almost looked like a rocketship. When you looked up at him, his eyes looked empty.

“S’going to be hard to avoid right? I mean, the more we do this--” you motioned around the restaurant with a free hand as you picked up your wine. “The more people will put the puzzle pieces together. The internet is a dangerous thing.”

“So maybe we should get out in front of it.”

“I just want to wait, okay? Wait until I can give Whitney the story and figure out a better way to tell her.”

“What about our friends?”

“What about them?”

He rolled his eyes a little. “Why can’t they know that we’re--”

“Because Jessie will be obnoxious--more obnoxious than she usually is.”

He sighed.

“She knew we were in the bathroom.”

“What do you mean?” Curiosity replaced impatience.

“I guess she realized we were stuck in there and instead of letting us out she had a proper laugh with Bryn,” your chest deflated, less anger than the last time you thought about it. “She said she hoped we’d just talk things out.”

Harry let out small laugh, his eyes wandered the room as if he waited for a distraction. “Jake probably can’t keep his mouth shut.”

When you looked at him with confusion on your face, he continued. “Jake’s always known that I--y’know, liked you.”

“Always?” You narrowed your eyes at him, heat rising to your cheeks when you thought about what Jake had said at Christmas. It was stupid to think that Harry didn’t talk to the rest of your friends--especially Jake and Adam--the same way you did. And it was especially stupid to think that Jake and Jessie weren’t keeping each other completely in the loop.

But if you were both disclosing the same secret of having feelings for the other, why didn’t someone take it upon themselves to remove the middle-man and force the two of you to talk?

You shrunk when it clicked. That’s what Jessie had done.

“Yeah, I mean,” he shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t really tell him until, like, probably 2013.”

Another puzzle piece. “Which is when I’d met Charlie.”

“And when I decided to let you just--do you.”

“Do me?”

“S’not like we saw each other much and then I found out you had a boyfriend and--you know. I was busy.”

“Right. Busy.”

And then when you were finally able to talk through things and you both admitted that there had always been something between you, you decided to tell him to never talk to you again.

Harry nodded, a look on his face as if he’d wandered into unknown territory. More wine was poured by the same waiter who stared at Harry with excitement in his eyes. Once you were alone again, Harry stifled a smirk.

“You were really surprised by the fact that we have meddling friends?”

“Guess not,” you sighed. “Would have wished they’d be more transparent about their meddling, though.”

So while Jessie might have done a shitty thing--while they all might have contributed to the worst night of your life--it felt a little easier knowing that they were only trying to help. It even made Jessie’s never ending quest to make you get over Harry feel a bit less annoying.

But only a bit.

You and Harry had been passing like two ships in the night for years, and apparently everyone but the two of you knew it.

“This is serious,” you looked up from the couch, annoyed by the way he threw another goldfish in the air, his mouth open to catch it as it came back down.

“America has the best snacks. That’s serious.” He looked over at you with a playful smirk, eyebrows wiggling on his forehead when your eyes met his.

“If it weren’t your birthday I’d be more mad.”

“Fine--okay,” he settled back and threw a few more crackers into his mouth. “What was the question?”

“Favorite thing about going home?”

“To Holmes Chapel?”

You nodded, desperate to get something good out of him. The last few days had been filled with new ideas from Carly. Write about how normal he is, how down to earth. Do something with him that really shows how normal he is and then write about it.

Sure--that’d be a great read. But you didn’t know how to do that without giving first hand information.

So fine, maybe the interview was a bad idea. Now--after two weeks of trying to do it, you could finally admit it.

“You.”

An eye roll as you shifted on the couch, thankful for the fact that his birthday celebrations didn’t begin until much later in the evening. You’d take as much time bundled in his clothes as you could. “Even if that were true, I couldn’t write it.”

“It is true!” His face twisted, clearly offended before he threw another goldfish towards the ceiling. “You just can’t take a compliment.”

“I can too--just not when they’re fabricated.”

“Fabricated?!” He let a loud laugh that echoed through his living room, a smirk crossing his face when he stood off the couch. “You’re mental. Absolutely, one hundred percent, out of this world, mental.”

“Am not!” You shrunk into the couch when he got closer, a giggle escaping your lips. “Come off it, you’re the one who’s feeding me the bullshit lines.” He leaned down to tickle you, fingers grasping for the sides of your hips. “S’that the type of thing that works on all the other girls?”

He froze at that--a twitch in his lip when he pulled away from you. “No, Smalls--there’s,” his eyebrows dipped, a pause when he cleared his throat. “There aren’t other girls.”

“Oh.”

It was the reassurance that you wanted and needed, but something about it felt off. Maybe it was the way he didn’t lean down to kiss you or the way he pulled away when you reached out to touch him. He went back to the other couch and sat, hand back into the bag of snacks.

“Do you have another question?”

You had a thousand, but none felt like they’d yield a good answer.

You stood in front of Alyssa’s closet that night, hands running down the side of the green velvet dress she’d offered up. The fabric didn’t seem to stretch so much around her chest when she wore it, but it seemed like a better option than the black one you’d already tried on.

Roger came to pick the two of you up, an excited smile on his face when Alyssa marveled at the heated back seats. She repeated the same things Harry had originally.

If anyone asks, you’re there for work. What better way to get to know someone than having dinner with them and their friends? Maybe some of Harry’s friends could be trusted with the truth, but you were thankful for the fact that Twitter had been quiet and hopeful you could keep it that way.

It was a small enough gathering, maybe fifteen others crowded around a family style table in another fancy restaurant--this one had enough private rooms with lounges that you wondered if the general public was even allowed in.

Champagne toasts and sharing stories about the funny things that Harry had done during his 23rd trip around the sun. His manager made a bet that his 24th would be even better.

He slunk an arm around your shoulders towards the end of the night, laughing in your ear when Alyssa talked about the way you mispronounced American words. He seemed to float around the room from group to group, thanking people for coming and letting his glass clink against the others’, a shy smile on his face when people showered him with praise.

You didn’t feel as out of place as you’d hoped. You crossed your fingers for a bad night--one that would permit a slow but steady separation, saving you from the blurry lines that were to come. How often should he call you when he was on tour? Were you supposed to visit?

Instead, you felt accepted by his friends and like they appreciated a new face in the crowd of people who’d been working together for a few years.

“Meant to show you this earlier,” he said after another glass of champagne, flipping his phone around to reveal a text message from Jessie.

Jessie Alby (5:23am): Happiest of birthdays!!!! Hope you have an amazing day and please tell Y/N that I love her and I’m a wanker and I’ll wait as long as she needs to tell all of that to her face. Xx

You rolled your eyes, eliciting a smirk from him.

“She means it.”

“I know,” you said, bringing your glass up to your lips again. A few days since you’d last spoken to her had given you time to settle, less angry about that night and more understanding about why she’d done it--even if it was stupid.

You looked up at Harry--his eyes held your gaze for a second, his dilated pupils a sure sign of intoxication. Jessie might be apologetic, but that was largely due to the fact that she thought things between you and Harry had finally been resolved. She didn’t know about the sex or the sleepovers and she certainly didn’t know about the interview.

The last thing you needed was judgement from Mother Theresa herself.

So you pushed the thoughts of Jessie and the gang out of your mind, thankful for the tiny sliver of New York that felt like a new world. One without memories of throwing up or getting drunk or saying stupid things. Alyssa excused herself just after midnight, a smile on her face communicated her hopes for you to end up in a bed other than your own.

And when you were, Harry smiled over at you from his spot beneath the comforters, his legs intertwined with yours as his eyelashes brushed against his cheeks. “Come with me to Los Angeles at the end of the week.”

“What?”

“Come with me,” he said again, his voice slow, his breathing was fading towards that of sleep.

“Why?”

“Cause I like you, Smalls.”

You were quiet, you watched as his eyes closed, then opened, then closed again. The heat kicked on, a hum in the room before you spoke.

“I like you too.”

“Just us--romantic.”

“Romantic?” You let a giggle escape through your lips, his eyes immediately opened, though he had trouble keeping them like that. A green light from the digital thermostat across the room seemed to glare back at you.

“S’not funny!”

“Okay.”

“You’ll come?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

You nodded, and once his eyes were closed for good, you leaned over to shut off the light, wondering if anyone else had ever kept a stick of deodorant in his flat.

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AN: thanks for being so patient with me while i got this chapter written and posted! i was sick and its christmastime and you know how that is. (there are a ton of easter eggs in this chapter about upcoming drama and i know y’all love a good easter egg hunt)

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