#plus whatever mistake you wanted to mention would probably be totally ignored by others if you don't say anything. streisand effect | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ravennm84 · 3 years

Text

Payback

Hey everyone! I’ve been writing this new story for the past couple of days, and am planning to take a break for a while after this. My husband and I are expecting our first child next week and will be focusing on her. For that reason, I decided to give the class some sugar, as we all need some goodness in the world. I’ll be back when things settle down, but until then, Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!

It was just an average conversation. Alya was sitting at her desk before class with Lila since Marinette was late again. It was very pleasant until the italian girl said something… wrong.

“After I saved Jagged’s kitten from being run over by the plane and he wrote that song about me, we kept in touch.” Lila tittered away, without a care. “He ended up mentioning how he wanted a pair of special glasses for his tour, so I made him those Eiffel Tower glasses that he loves so much. Next thing I know, he’s bragging about me to all his friends and they’re all asking me to make things for them too. I ended up making a website and going by the alias MDC. Isn’t that amazing?”

Alya hadn’t had a chance to answer as Marinette came rushing into the room a second before the bell rang and Mme. Bustier began her lesson. Although whatever the teacher was saying was practically ignored by the majority of the class that had heard Lila’s claim.

Because they knew.

They had been there when Marinette had made those glasses for Jagged Stone for the work experience day at Chloe’s family hotel. They knew that Marinette went by the acronym MDC for the initials of her name. Max, Rose, Juleka, Mylene, Kim, and Alya had all helped Marinette set up her website and model her designs a couple months ago, while Lila had been traveling…

She’s a LIAR!! They all thought at once.

During the next break, Alya quickly set up a group chat with everyone but Lila and Marinette.

FoxyJournalist: You all heard that, right? She’s lying about being MDC, but that’s Marinette!

DJTurtle: So not cool, doesn’t she know that we were there? Is this some kind of joke?

MightIllustrator: Don’t think so, she’s still bragging about it back here.

GothicBeauty: @DJTurtle Agreed, not cool.

Rocker’n’Pink: I can’t believe it! I just emailed Prince Ali to see if he knows her, because if Lila’s lying about this…

BigTeddy: …

SmolTeddy: …

TrueBrain: …

Da’Strongest: … Crap

Sk8Grl: … I second that Crap

FoxyJournalist: Emergency meeting at my place tonight! We need to figure all this out!

DJTurtle: Agreed.

TruQueen: We’ll be there too. I don’t like Dupain-Cheng, but I HATE Rossi.

MissRed: I’ll bring snacks.

By the time class started again, everyone had agreed to meet up after school. The hard part, as it turned out, was shaking the liar, who practically latched onto their group and wouldn’t let them be. It was Mylene you finally came up with an idea, mentioning that they were going to the homeless shelter to help feed people and clean the facility. Lila suddenly remembered that she already had plans and couldn’t come help them, before turning to walk home.

Once she was out of earshot, Alix turned to the other girl with a smirk. “Good going, how’d you know that’d work?”

Mylene shrugged. “I was thinking earlier about all the times she talked about charity work but always made excuses to not come with us when we were doing it. I figured she’d do it this time too, and I was right.”

An hour later the entire class; sans Marinette, Lila, and Adrien, who was at a photoshoot, were gathered in the Cesaire apartment. Everyone had their phones or tablets out, looking up everything that Lila had told them since coming to school. And what they found was anything but comforting.

Connection to Jagged Stone due to saving a kitten: lies, according to articles about his one and only pet for the past 17 years, Fang the crocodile.

Connection to Prince Ali via Go-Green charities: lies, according to Prince Ali himself when he responded to Rose’s email, plus he didn’t do green charities, instead focusing on children’s charities.

Secretly dating Adrien: lies, confirmed when Adrien called Nino back during a break and let it slip that Lila was only his friend and that she made him uncomfortable at times because of how clingy she was.

Every single thing they looked up about Lila turned out to be a lie. And although they couldn’t prove it themselves, that likely meant that all of the diseases and injuries that she’d claimed to have were probably fake too. Meaning that they had been buying her lunch and giving her money for charities, and the money was probably going straight into the liar’s pocket.

“By my calculations, when including all the lunches and food we bought for her, money we donated for charities she wasn’t involved in, and tickets for events she attended with us; Lila Rossi has scammed close to €1,000 from our class. All of which we are not likely to get back from her.” Max groused as he typed away on his tablet.

Alix scoffed. “At least all we lost was some money and a bit of our dignity. I’m pretty sure Marinette went through a lot more than us. Heck, that liar tried to convince me last week that Marinette ruined her homework and said ‘if only she understood what it was like for someone to do that to her’ like she was trying to get me to destroy Marinette’s homework as revenge. I didn’t do it, but I let her copy my homework so she wouldn’t lose any points.”

Juleka’s pale complexion went stark white. “She kept telling me how Marinette was only friends with me so she could get close to Luka and make Adrien jealous, and that I was really trusting to let someone like that near my family.”

“When my headphones broke, she told me that she’d seen Marinette messing with them earlier,” Nino told them, his voice laced with guilt as he remembered giving his oldest friend the cold shoulder for days after that.

Alya’s head dropped into her hands as she struggled to hold back tears. “That liar almost had me convinced that Mari was nothing but a jealous bitch who was out to get rid of her since they both had a crush on Adrien. I can’t believe how close I came to buying that bull.”

“And then there’s the expulsion,” Rose added, her voice quivering. “She was accused of stealing, assault, and cheating on that mock exam. Even though Marinette was reinstated, that kind of stuff doesn’t just disappear from someone’s record. What if that keeps her from being accepted into lycee?”

Everyone went pale at that. Although most turned red in the face a moment later from rage for their friend.

“We can’t let her get away with this!” Kim growled as he began pacing the room.

“But is there anything we can really do?” Mylene asked with tears in her eyes.

When the blonde heiress chuckled, sitting off to the side of the room, everyone turned to glare at her, but she wasn’t phased by their looks. “And this is exactly why I decided to come here. None of you have any idea how to deal with someone like Rossi. I, however, have dealt with those types of people multiple times.” The glares ceased, realizing that Chloe was probably right.

“One of the best ways to get back at her, would be to use her own lies against her. Do it in a way that the only way out of it is to admit that she’s a liar. And while we do that, we completely tear down the empire that fake HBIC is trying to build, maybe get her expelled like she tried to do to Dupain-Cheng.”

The class stared at her in surprise, not expecting the former hero to actually be useful in this situation. But what she said…

Alya shook her head in surprise. “I never thought I’d say this, but it sounds like you’re the best option. Please, tell us your plan.”

The smirk Chloe gave them, almost made them feel sorry for what was about to happen to the liar.

~oOo~

The following morning when Lila came to class, she saw everyone fawning over something on their phones or tablets. Curious, she stepped next to Alya and looked over her shoulder to find that she was looking at the MDC website.

She smirked for a second before plastering an appreciative, yet shy grin on her face. “I see you found my website, what do you think of my designs?”

“Gurl, they are gorgeous! I can’t believe you made such intricate clothes and accessories!” Alya gushed as she continued looking through the pictures until she stopped on a design that she had modeled for Marinette, although, like all the other photos, her face wasn’t shown. “And this one here! It’s like a total dedication to Rena Rouge. Make no mistake, Ladybug will always be my favorite, but Rena’s power is really awesome too.”

“I’m glad you like it!” Lila smiled, she was about to go into describing how she was inspired by the design when Alya asked her something surprising.

“Do you think I can have it? Pretty please?”

Lila came up short, not having expected this. “Well, you can just order it from my website-” she began saying, only to stop when Alya’s expression dropped.

“I don’t understand. You always say that if we need anything to just ask you, and you have this dress listed as in stock on your website, it would be nothing for you to just give it to me, right?”

“I-um-”

“And you even told Marinette the other day that if she were a real friend, she wouldn’t mind giving us free pastries whenever we ask, right?”

“R-right! I’m just surprised that you would be so interested in one of my designs. I’ll bring it in tomorrow!”

“Thanks gurl, you're the best.” Alya gushed before giving Lila a hug that actually kind of hurt.

Hurrying back to her seat, Lila resisted the urge to curse as she got onto the MDC website to order and overnight the dress to her apartment. Luckily, the mail normally arrived before she left for school. And doing this would help her convince everyone she was the designer MDC.

~oOo~

Lila’s newest lie about being MDC wasn’t going as planned. Sure, she got a lot of praise and people wearing her designs, but it was costing her. Every time she brought in an item that she’d had to buy and overnight to her apartment to give to one of her classmates, another would practically demand another item that was listed as available on the MDC website. A hat for Alix, a hoodie for Kim, a shirt for Max, a dress for Rose, it went on and on. And when she tried to say that she couldn’t, they would say how Marinette would never do such a thing and then start to question what she told them. This left her no choice but to buy everything they wanted herself and give to them.

Sure, it made her lie all the more believable since she was able to deliver the items they asked for, but it was beginning to clear out her savings. At the rate she was going, she was probably MDC’s best customer.

Then came the day when the MDC website began offering custom orders. Alya asked Marinette for a couple sheets of paper from her sketchbook and a pencil before handing it to Lila. “Gurl, I’ve been wanting you to do something custom for me for weeks, but I wasn’t going to ask since you didn’t have it listed on your website and I didn’t want to take advantage of you. But now, I can tell you exactly what I want and I can even record your process for my blog! Isn’t that awesome?”

Lila gripped the pencil until it nearly snapped. She could barely draw stick figures and she was pretty sure Maribrat knew that, not missing the smirk that the goody-two-shoes was sending her direction. “I would but, oww! My arthritis has been acting up all day and I can barely hold a pencil.” She whimpered pathetically as gingerly gripped her left wrist.

“But that shouldn’t be a problem,” Max spoke up smiling kindly at her. “After all, it’s your left wrist that has arthritis and you’re right handed.”

Shut up, you stupid nerd! She thought, struggling to keep the scowl from her face. “You’re right, but I’m not sure if I’ll have enough time to draw something out before class starts.”

“But, Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale have commented on your website how you are really good at doing fast concept drawing for your designs. So, it shouldn’t take you too long to come up with something to start with.” Rose commented, her high voice grating on the liar’s nerves.

She was trying to think of another excuse when Chloe began laughing. “You can all stop the act, I think we’ve played it out long enough.”

To Lila’s surprise, the majority of the class nodded before their eager, friendly faces turned to scowls and angry glares as they looked in her direction. Unsure of what else to do, she started faking tears as she looked around the room. “Why are all of you looking at me like that? I haven’t done anything wrong. Did Marinette say something? You know-”

“Cut the crap, Lila! We did our research weeks ago and figured out you’re nothing but a lying bag of nothing.” Chloe cut her off as she stood from her desk and smiled cruelly at the girl. “You really messed up when you started claiming you were the MDC, the rising star of fashion. Everyone in class knows that’s Marinette.”

Unable to help herself, Lila’s head whipped around in shock to glare at the french-asian girl, sitting shocked, but a little smug at her desk. “Is that what Marinette said? She’s lying!”

Alya scoffed this time. “You know, there may have been a point when we might have believed you, but not this time. We were all there when Mari gave those glasses to Jagged Stone and then had her design his album cover. Max and I helped her set up the MDC website. And Rose, Juleka, Mylene, Kim, Max, and I were the ones that modeled the designs posted on her website.”

Lila glared at her. She knew when the jig was up, and there was no point in wasting her energy on her worthless classmates anymore. Still, she couldn’t help but be angry at them. “Well, you all better have the money to pay me back for all the stuff I bought you! Or else I’ll get all of you in trouble with Mme. Bustier and M. Damocles. If you can’t tell, from the time I got Maribrat expelled, I’ve got them both wrapped around my finger.”

“Actually, you can consider all this repaying us.” Max grinned that annoying, calculating grin at her. “Everything you bought was equal to or of similar value to all the lunches we bought you, tickets for events that we covered, or money we donated to your supposed charities, which I’m 96.8% sure was actually your own bank account.”

She growled at that, about to let out a tirade at all of them when Chloe laughed again, gaining her attention again. “Well, all that was to pay back the class, but you’re still not even with Dupain-Cheng or me. I’m sick of seeing your ugly face and hair-don’t in here every day and decided to do something about it. So, I had Daddy get a hold of the Italian Embassy for a meeting the other day. Imagine how surprised and angry they were when the ambassador’s assistant started talking about how incopitant Ladybug and Chat Noir are, since they couldn’t defeat the akuma that had forced her daughter’s school to close for months.”

Lila’s tan skin paled quickly as her head whipped around the room, looking for an escape, but Ivan and Kim were guarding the door.

“The woman was even more surprised after mentioning which school it was and Daddy told her how it was my school. Then I mentioned a girl that had been out of school for the time the assistant had mentioned, and that she claimed to be in the kingdom of Achu via Embassy funds. The Ambassador wasn’t too happy about what he was hearing and cut the meeting short. Although I did hear her mention that she was planning to speak with the principal and her daughter’s teacher. Speaking of, I wonder why Mme. Bustier is so late for class?

Seconds later, the door Ivan and Kim had been guarding burst open, revealing a very angry Damocles, Mme. Bustier, and a woman that had a strong resemblance to Lila. Without a single word, the woman stomped forward, grabbed Lila by the arm, and began dragging her out of the room. Lila tried to pull free as she pleaded for her mother to listen, but the woman didn’t say a single word as the door closed behind them, leaving a very upset Mme. Bustier standing at the front of the room.

The news quickly spread around school before lunch how Lila had done, and was likely to be expelled for truancy, bullying, lying to the staff, and trying to get Marinette expelled. If that hadn’t been bad enough, an akuma had come fluttering into the courtyard just as the two Rossi’s had been leaving. Lila had pushed her mother away in an effort to catch the akuma, only for a yo-yo to smack her hand to catch it, snapping two of the liar’s fingers in the process.

Seeing that, M. Damocles had no choice but to call the police while Ladybug and Chat Noir stood guard over Lila, with Alya recording everything from the moment she’d seen the akuma entering the courtyard. Lila screamed and raged as the police handcuffed her and took her away. Ladybug recommended using a facility outside of Paris, as they had witnessed her willingly going after an akuma.

The class never saw Lila again, although they did hear that she had been deported back to Italy and was dropped in a high security prison’s deepest, darkest hole to be forgotten by the world after being convicted for aiding a terrorist. Granted, none of them had expected that when they had set out to get even with Lila, but after seeing her willingly go after an akuma for revenge, they were glad she was gone.

The class had also profusely apologized to Marinette for not believing her, as well as keeping her in the dark about their plan to expose Lila. Marinette accepted their apology, but admitted that she had been starting to figure it out after Lila kept ordering from her website and her classmates ended up with the ordered items. Then, when she had mentioned her theory to Adrien, he’d shown her the group chat and admitted that the class had planned a way to confront and expose Lila. So, she decided to trust her friends and let their plan play out, using the money Lila had spent to buy more supplies and make matching ‘thank you’ gifts for her friends.

And that’s it! I hope you all enjoyed this bit of class sugar. With all the salt out there, I really needed something sweet and this seemed like a good way to do it!

Taglist:

@2confused-2doanything @7-sage-7 @aadnrsstar @abrx2002 @awkwardromances @bayball @babylovebug18 @botanicalfoxx @back-cats-and-broken-mirrors @caffeinetheory @cheshire5210 @chocolateherringtacofan @city-of-all-tunas @classycollectorreviewworld @corabeth11 @chocolatechipcookiesandcamembert @darkened-flame @delightfulcookiesrecipespizza @fandom-trapped-03 @ghostmaster @iamblinkmarvelarmy @interobanginyourmom @izang @jesussavedevenme @kazedancer @kitten12113 @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @lilypotter2018 @lunataravler @maskedpainter @ miraculouslydumb @nerd-nowandforever @ola-is-dead @pandacatxd @plushbookworm @plz-excuse-my-inner-ravenclaw @pheonix-biach @raiderofthelostbooks @ramos123 @rowanrouge @rowanyx @ren121 @seesea22 @seraphichana @sashakoi @shypeacekitten @tazer6787 @that-girl-sakea @thecrazyfantrollshasmoved @the-smallest-kittenz @tishwinchesterannabethjackson @t1dwarrior-of-earth @ulmban @with-forward-motion @wonderbat91939 @zoiechance

#lila lies #lila salt #lila gets exposed #class redemption #chloe redemption #alya redemption #marinette dupain cheng

721 notes · View notes

writerbyaccident · 4 years

Text

Covetous: Part Two (Yandere Tomura Shigaraki x Reader)

Request: What are the odds of us getting a part 2 to Covetous 👉🏼👈🏼

Trigger Warning: Mentions of masturbation, sexual imagery, Shigaraki being a disgusting gremlin

Part One

Having you here was both a blessing and a curse.

Yes, it meant that Shigaraki got to hear you, got to see you, got to collect more material for his late-night fantasies. But it also meant that he had to deal with seeing you be all disgustingly gooey and sweet with Spinner—and that meant that he couldn’t keep ignoring the fact that you were Spinner’s girlfriend, not his.

Shigaraki knew that it was shitty of him to be lusting after his friend’s girlfriend. Actually, scratch that, it wasn’t just that he was lusting after you. If that had been it, he could have just jacked himself off to you a few times and gotten you out of his system. But no matter how many times he tried doing just that, it wasn’t enough to get you out of his head, out of his blood. How could it be, when you were the only girl he had ever met who didn’t sneer at the sight of him? Who didn’t edge away when he came close? Who was always so goddamn nice, no matter what he did? No, Shigaraki might not have been totally sure whatever it was that he felt for you, but he sure as hell knew that lust alone didn’t cover it.

So it seemed that he was stuck with whatever it was that he was feeling, which made the nights that the date nights that you and Spinner spent at the apartment a hellish endurance test for Shigaraki. The first phase of this test was always to see just how long he could stomach seeing you act all couplely with Spinner. You always invited him to hang out with you two, even after that little incident a few weeks back when Shigaraki had gotten a bit too close for comfort. Not wanting to pass up any opportunities to breathe in your air, he always accepted, but how long he stayed before retreating to his room always changed. Some nights the high he got from being with you was enough to let him ignore anything, while other nights, the sight of you giving heart-eyes to Spinner and Spinner touching what should have been his was too much to bear.

The second phase of this marathon always took place in the comfort and safety of Shigaraki’s bedroom. It was there that he would work to see how long he could go hearing your voice and feeling you so near before had no choice but to bring out his hardened cock and jerk himself off to the thought of you. He never lasted very long on this phase.

Tonight, for instance, seeing you in that deliciously low-cut top had him rushing to his bedroom nearly as soon as you arrived, not so much for his own sanity this time, but because of the way his cock had begun to harden almost painfully at the image of your tits tempting him like that. And while Shigaraki kind of wanted to see how you would react to seeing his boner, he wasn’t enough of a shitty friend to show Spinner just how much he wanted you.

So it was only when he heard nothing but a song being played over movie credits that he dared to leave the sanctuary of his bedroom, figuring that you and Spinner had fallen asleep during another movie. Yeah, the image of you curled up in his friend’s arms wasn’t one he liked having burned into his eyelids right before going to sleep himself, but it was worth it for being able to see you so vulnerable, with your breaths so deep and your lips so enticingly parted. That last part always had him imagining what it’d be like if he just happened to slip his cock out of his pants and rest it on your lips, slowly pushing it deeper and deeper into your mouth until you were unconsciously sucking it down like the slut for him that he knew you were meant to be. Honestly, he probably would have done it if Spinner hadn’t been asleep right next to you.

Anyway, that was what Shigaraki was hoping for when he crept into the hallway, for some more fuel to the fire of his unquenchable fantasies about you, and maybe, if he was lucky, something of yours to add to his inventory. Right now he had your apron, hair tie, ring, bracelet, and his favorite out of all of them, a tube of your chapstick. The apron and chapstick in particular were perfect tools for boosting his XP when he was pumping his cock, but he could always use some more. Maybe this time he’d find—

“Oh, sorry, did I wake you up?”

Frozen like a horny deer in headlights, Shigaraki could only stare as he took in the image of you getting your things together all while Spinner was knocked out on the couch. You stared back at him in expectation, making Shigaraki register that you had just asked him a question.

“No, I, uh, was just getting some water,” he told you. Shigaraki nearly sighed in relief when you nodded, buying his answer and going pack to grabbing your purse and putting on your shoes. He watched you for another minute or so before realizing that he should get what he supposedly came in here for. Shuffling into the kitchen, he hastily grabbed a glass and filled it at the sink, tossing it down his throat so quickly that about half of it ended up all over his hoodie. A part of him hoped that you didn’t see that, while the other part of him proclaimed loudly that it shouldn’t matter if you did. Whatever you thought of him didn’t really matter, that voice in his head hissed. Not when you would end up his either way.

That increasingly familiar train of thought was interrupted though, when Shigaraki noticed that you were making your way towards the door all alone. Rushing to beat you there, he slammed his hand against the door, keeping you from opening it.

“Didn’t Spinner pick you up from work?” he panted.

“Yeah?” you answered, unsure where he was going with this, the way that Shigaraki was leaning so close to you reminding you of the last time you had been alone with him. You may have persuaded yourself that you had been overreacting that day, taking Shigaraki’s social awkwardness way out of proportion, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t uncomfortable to have his crimson eyes staring down at you so intently.

“How’re you getting home then?”

“Oh,” you chuckled in slight relief, “I’m just gonna take an Uber.”

At your words, you couldn’t help but spy a burning look flash in Shigaraki’s eyes for just a moment. It disappeared so quickly, but if you didn’t know any better, you would have said that it was rage. And though you assured yourself that you were wrong, that you had imagined it, rage was exactly what Shigaraki felt at your proposal. Having to share you with Spinner was bad enough, but now you expected him to share you with some random asshole who’d probably spend the whole drive to your house staring down your shirt?

“It’s late,” Shigaraki forced out from gritted teeth. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just stay the night?”

“I would, but I’ve got work early tomorrow morning.”

“Then I’ll drive you home,” Shigaraki said, his words much more of an order than an offer. “Just let me grab Spinner’s keys.”

Without waiting for you to agree, he stalked off towards the living room in search of them, not really caring what you might have to say about the arrangement. As for yourself, you simply stood at the door, wondering if putting your foot down about this would be worth the trouble. You had told yourself so many times that Shigaraki wasn’t a bad guy, he was just misunderstood, easy to mistake for a creep given his lack of social skills. But that didn’t mean that you really felt comfortable getting in a car with him. Your apprehensive reluctance was easy for Shigaraki to spot once he returned with the keys, and he had to work hard to keep himself from scowling in frustration.

“You don’t have to do this,” you said before he could try just grabbing your hand and dragging you out the door. “It’s late, and I really don’t mind getting an Uber.”

“Jesus Christ,” he sighed, “it’s not a big deal. This way you’ll save some money, and I won’t have to explain to Spinner that I let you get a ride home with some stranger. You never know what kinds of creeps are driving those cars.”

Biting your lip in thought, you missed the hunger that crossed Shigaraki’s face at sight, with him knowing that that image would soon become one of his favorites to replay over and over in his mind late at night. No, you were too busy contemplating his offer, leaning more closely towards it as each second passed. It would be nice not to have to spend the money. Plus, you told yourself, Shigaraki was Spinner’s best friend. That meant that you could trust him, right?

“Okay,” you agreed. “So long as you’re not too tired.”

“I’m fine,” Shigaraki insisted as he wrenched open the door, letting you walk out first so he could stare at your cute ass all the way down to the car. It was enough to almost make him want to throw a tantrum when you two finally reached the car, but he managed to console himself with the fact that he still had you all to himself.

The drive itself was pretty quiet, with you simply giving Shigaraki direction while he stayed silent. He clutched the wheel so tightly that the knuckles of his already pale hands looked positively bone-white. Truthfully, he was afraid that if he loosened his grip just a bit, if he glanced towards you or opened his mouth, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from crashing his lips onto yours, pushing your seat back and fucking you so hard that the only man you would remember would be him.

Somehow he made it all the way to your apartment building without giving into that urge though, with you being the none the wiser as to the depraved thoughts that had been swirling through his blood.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said as he pulled up to the door, giving him that sweet smile of yours, one that he hadn’t seen given in his direction for far too long.

“No problem,” Shigaraki grunted, too busy trying to absorb every las detail of you before you left to come up with a better reply.

“Well, I, uh, guess I’ll see you later.”

Not trusting himself to open his mouth to respond, Shigaraki just nodded. When you left the car and began walking up to your building, he found himself watching the sway of your hips and bounce of your ass with even more intensity than before, now that he knew that even if you turned back, you wouldn’t be able to tell what he was doing. Even if a part of him wanted you to know.

And as he drove away, Shigaraki repeated your address over and over again in his head, saving that juicy tidbit of information for another day.

Part One

Donate to Black Mamas Matter Alliance here

Please consider supporting me at my Ko-Fi account

198 notes · View notes

quirkwizard · 3 years

Text

Spoiled Sushi

For a while, a certain article has been vexing me. One that seems to have a great misunderstanding of the series it was writing about, missing obvious points and core parts of the worldbuilding. No, it wasn’t by CBR, nor was it by Screenrant. But it was by Cruchyroll of all places. They decided to make an article about the Top 5 Misused Quirks in My Hero Academia. It was not good and has been bugging me. So I decided to give them a taste of their own medicine. I mean they try to shut down whoever even attempts to do what they do, so why not make fun of them for trying to do what I do? Plus you guys seem to like it when I’m snarky, so this could be fun for everyone.

For clarity’s sake, this was written at the beginning of 2019, when the most recent chapter was Chapter 214 and the the anime had only reached Season 3. I’m keeping that in mind as I write. I will also be skipping around some of the parts of the article as I am talking about it. If its not worth mentioning, I won’t bring it up, simple as that. For instance, I’m skipping the intro because it is completely superfluous and would only serve to make a completely different fanbase mad. Might as well, most of what I am passing up are just dumb jokes. But if you are curious... don’t waste your time reading this. Your time is valuable and you have better things to do then read this article.

5. Kurogiri Can Create Free, Renewable Energy

“In all seriousness, though, Kurogiri is probably one of the most powerful characters in the anime, with their being virtually no limit to how far he can extend his Warp Gate portals.”

I mean there are certainly limits for his Quirk. Besides the need to know the coordinates or see where he is moving, there’s obviously a limit to how much he can spread out his body.

“Why then doesn’t he use them to create near-infinite energy? Open two portals one above another, throw in a heavy object inside and watch it fall endlessly. Devise a way to hook a dynamo or something to it and, bam, you have free power that would make Kurogiri a billionaire overnight and a hero to the entire planet.”

This idea has so many problems that I don’t even know where to begin.

One, if this could work, it likely wouldn’t make a lot of energy. Besides the various physics problems involved in this, Kurogiri would just be one guy doing this, meaning that it’s unlikely he’d be able to make enough power to matter.

Two, Kurogiri would still need rest as he is a living being, meaning he wouldn’t to keep up this theoretical contraption forever and you’d get even less energy relying on him. At most, it would work best in a small bunker as a last resort.

Three, that sounds like it would be a lot more dangerous then it would be worth for the energy made. If Kurogiri would to lose focus for a moment, the portals fall apart and there would just be a lot of damage from this heavy object moving at high speeds.

“Even if Kurogiri only cares about taking down All Might, it would still be much easier to do if he had a literal mountain of money/public goodwill at his side.”

What kind of bizzaro universe are you living in where the guy who makes energy could possibly turn public option about the very well liked Number 1 Hero that saves lives every day? That’s literally what Lex Luthor does and people hate him for it.

4. Koji Koda Could Help Feed Billions Of People

“Koji is the resident Class 1-A stoner (get it? he's made of rock? come on) with the power to control ANY creature in the animal kingdom. This would logically also include spiders, meaning that Koji could literally end all street crime in, like, 5 minutes tops by swallowing all the criminals up in a giant arachno-tsunami.”

While this article is infuriating in many ways, it did give us the mental image of an “arachno-tsunami”. Which is totally worth sitting through this jumbled mess of words and ignorance.

“But, you see, Koji is just too shy and nice to be an effective hero. He wants to do good but he just doesn’t have that fighter instinct in him. Which is why he should instead use his Anivoice Quirk to revolutionize agriculture all around the world.”

You can be an effective hero and not beat people up. Sure, it certainly can come up in the job description, but that isn’t all of what a hero is meant to do. Koda’s Quirk makes him great at information gathering and rescue work, two very important aspects of hero work that suit his personality perfectly.

“Give him a megaphone and fly him over American fields, telling feral pigs to stop causing $1.5 billion worth of damage a year in destroyed crops. Fly him to Australia to tell the invasive cane toads and rabbits to kindly lemming themselves off a cliff. Have him tell the aggressive lionfish the get the hell out of the Atlantic. FORCE HIM TO GET OVER HIS FEAR OF BUGS AND MAKE AGRICULTURAL PESTS A THING OF THE PAST. “

There is no possible way Koda could be everywhere at once to pull that off. And considering that the average human voice can only carry for about a mile, IE, about the average size of a single farm. You know, because animals need to hear his voice in order to receive his commands. So even if it was limited to a single farm, its unlikely to do much to help. But by far the biggest issue with this entire plan is that what Koda does to an animal is not permanent. The second his control is interrupted, the animals return to normal, bound to just go back to whatever they were doing before.

So if Koda tries to change anything, its just going to end up undone by the time he leaves, just delaying the inevitable problem that comes from these animals. So even if Koda told the pigs to go away, they’d likely be back by the next day, destroying farmland like nothing happened. Even then, because of the previous limitations, he’d still have to go farm by farm to pull it off. That’s not even mentioning all of the other suggestions. Honestly, if you wanted to do something with Quirk, you should just convince all the animals to line up during hunting season. Dark, yes, but it least it would offer a more permanent solution then what the writer is suggesting.

“If Koji was utilized properly, he could travel the world undoing mankind’s mistakes and creating organic, pesticide-free crops instead of doing what he does now, which is largely sitting around on his ass roleplaying Snow White.”

Which, in spite of many fans joking about his Quirk, has shown to be very helpful quite a few times.

3. Inko Midoriya Would Have Made A Great Nurse

“Izuku’s mother in My Hero Academia has mainly done two things so far: jack and squat.”

I mean she did design Izuku’s costume, even if it got replaced, its is still a corner stone of his design, and she offered a good amount of drama after the fight with All Might and All For One.

“She did try to be a good mother but kind of failed at that when she tearfully apologized to her son because he was born without a Quirk, essentially telling him: “I’m so sorry I gave birth to such a loser.””

Would you believe that this one line was what really prompted me to talk about this? Because that is probably one of the worst takes I have ever in relation to this series. If you honestly believed that is what Inko was doing, the woman who practically raised her child by herself and constantly talks about much she cares for him, you must be watching the wrong series. That’s the only way I could explain why that is.

“So, she doesn’t really have much going on in her life. That’s why she should try nursing instead. I realize that becoming a nurse takes a lot of hard work and dedication, but Inko would be a natural fit for it. Despite her initial shortcomings, she is a very caring person with loads of empathy.”

Inko’s empathic? Could have fooled me. I mean she did feel the need to apologize to her son for giving birth to a loser. No, I am not over that, how could you have possibly gotten that from the scene?!

“She also has the power of limited telekinesis. Inko can move small objects over short distances, and while that would not be helpful for stopping crime, it would be great for, say, removing kidney stones. Or things stuck in people’s throats. Or coins from children’s stomachs.”

Trying to use a Quirk like this in any kind of medical procedure is laughable at best and dangerous at worst. Imagine if Inko had to remove a bullet from someone. From what we see, the process of her moving objects is slow and need several pulls from her to attract the object to her. So if she’s going to try to pull it out and its going to get caught on something, causing more damage to the person she is trying to save. She’s basically going to be keying the insides of whoever she is trying to operate on.

The entire reasons doctors, especially surgeons, train for so long is because the human body can be extremely delicate. It needs a lot of care and time so the doctors don’t make things worse for the patients. It’s why surgeons need to have such steady hands and a lot of time even to due minor procedures. But trying to do that with a Quirk is just going to cause more problems then it can solve. Doing that with a Quirk like Inko’s just lacks a lot of the precision and dexterity necessary to pull this off.

2. Uraraka Should Go Work For A Shipping Company

“Ochaco Uraraka has one of the most well-rounded Quirks out of all the main characters: Zero Gravity. With it, she can make objects and people float, which is great for offense, defense, and rescue operations. As a superheroine, she is doing everything right with her Quirk.”

I mean “Zero Gravity” can kind of be used offensively, but not effectively as other Quirks. Its why she did all of that training with Gun Head to make up for her lack of an offensive presence. Eh, two of three ain’t bad. I’ll take what I can get.

“I just think Uraraka should never have become a superheroine in the first place. Uraraka has actually always been honest about her motivation: she wants dem YEN YEN BILLS YO (for her struggling family.)”

That’s because hero work is an extremely frugal business even super minor heroes can still seem to make a decent living out of it.

“But regular jobs also exist in that world, and that must include shipping companies that would instantly hire Uraraka to Zero-G their freighters, trucks, and planes. Even if she cannot make them float, she can still remove enough gravity from them to save the company tons of fuel. Company profit margins are razor thin.”

First off, its mentioned several times that if you want to use a Quirk for a job, you need to have a hero license. Its to make sure you know how to use your Quirk properly so you don’t end up hurting someone with your powers. So for her to even try this, she needs to go through hero school anyway. Might as well get the most out of it. Second, Uraraka cannot lower the gravity of her target. Either the object is floating or it isn’t floating. There is no in between for Uraraka.

Third, given what we’ve seen from Uraraka, there is no possible way that she could ever lift that much. She’s barely able to lift three lower numbered robots and that was only for a few seconds. So, at the most, she can lift a few tons. How exactly do you expect her to work with something like a cargo plane, which, on its own, can weight over forty five tons, not including fuel or any extra cargo?

Which is another thing I noticed throughout the article: the writer seems to severely overestimate how effective Quirks actually are. The range and scope of Quirks is much smaller then other power systems, even when compared to similar “low level” series like HunterxHunter. Like every kind of application listed goes far beyond what most Quirks are capable of, such as forgetting certain drawbacks. And that is most notable with the last suggestion.

1. Momo Could Solve Literally All The World’s Problems

I bet Kohei Horikoshi was really proud of himself when he came up with Momo Yaoyorozu’s design: No, see, she HAS to dress scantily because her Quirk is Creation, i.e. the ability to create any object she wants through her skin, which must be constantly exposed. Peachy.”

Oh boy, it wouldn’t be any sort of discussion about Momo without beating that long dead horse. What’s next? Bakugou angry? Izuku cry?

“Momo can apparently create anything as long as she understands its composition, and seeing as she’s made an ethanol spray can, infrared goggles, a lighter, and a tracker, it seems like there’s nothing she cannot make.”

Oh boy, it wouldn’t be any sort of discussion about Momo without a grievous misunderstanding of how her Quirk works either. Maybe they are in the fandom. As I have mentioned in my Momo Misconceptions post, Momo needs fat to make what she does. She’s not an alchemist where she can just clap her hands and make whatever she wants. If she doesn’t have enough fat, she cannot make items. By those very rules, some things are just out of her reach because it would just take too much fat. It’s why she limits herself to simpler items.

“Cool. MAKE US SOME HELIUM THEN. The world is running out of the gas and we need it for MRI scanners and the like. Momo could make more of it.”

Actually, we don’t even know for sure if Momo is capable of making gases. All we have seen her make is solids and a few liquids. There is the lighter she made, but that could easily run on lighter fluid.

“Or thorium. She could make thorium that we could use to make thorium-based reactors that are apparently way safer than uranium ones.”

Thorium isn’t even that rare, just as about as common as lead and three times as common as uranium. Even if it was a problem, it would likely kill her, either from burning through all of her fat or from the exposure to radiation.

“Medicine, fresh water, cheap electronics that we could send to developing countries: Momo could crank all of those out in an afternoon.“

Yes, in theory, Momo could do that, but not the extent that she would make a major difference in the world like they are suggesting. There are just more practical and better long term solutions then trying to force a single person to do all of that. It’s almost as if Momo is a regular human being who has limitations you need to keep in mind when making these ill informed suggestions.

“And while spending your life as a walking Everything Faucet might not seem that glamorous, it actually has the potential to change the entire planet for the better.”

Given the kind of set up and effort that would be required to even attempt that, I think “horrific” would be a more appropriate descriptor since it would be done to a living, thinking person.

Honestly, I think that most of these people are doing more with their Quirks now then with any of these suggestions. At least, when you actually think about the rules and limits of the characters. Sure, Inko isn’t doing much, but she is a civilian with a fairly weak Quirk. Kurogiri acts as a major player within the League, getting them around quickly and evading capture. I mean he is using his power to help out a bunch of villains, but my point still stands that he is not “misusing” his Quirk.

In fact, a majority of the people on this list are doing more to help people and save lives by being heroes. Given the limitations of their abilities, using them to stop superpowered criminals who risking damaging the people around and helping victims of these crimes is doing then any of those roles in spite of the fact that the article tries its best to downplay that these people are already saving lives. So, in reality, they are doing far more to help people then doing any of these ideas, you damp sock of a writer.

#My Hero Academia #Quirks

25 notes · View notes

k-writer1998 · 3 years

Text

Who Said Love Was Easy (3/12)

There are many different kinds of people who come and go from your life. Some will stay constant and sturdy like a river, growing alongside you, others will come like a whirlwind who wreaks havoc and leaves just as quickly, then there is everything in between. In this twisted maze of connections, that is where our story begins. A steadfast boy, a girl with a past, a little bit of alcohol, mistakes, and some love. Where can you go wrong with that?

angsty fluff

w.c: 2.1k

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

Summer lectures, design deadlines and no focus because of that brat. It’s been three years, they shouldn’t have this effect on me anymore… Even if I tell myself that, that woman has such a strong oppressive energy. I always feel like I’m suffocating. Ugh just thinking about it makes me sick to my stomach. Needing a change of pace I decided to walk to the pub to wait for Changbin. The bustle of the city was a comforting white noise to drown out my thoughts since I really needed to just… not think for a bit. That is, until I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand. With this new sense of anxiety I finally noticed the black car, not so subtly, following me. Luckily the street the pub was on was too narrow for cars and it was entering my line of sight. I checked my phone reflection as a man got out and of course it would be him. Picking up my pace to get away did nothing as he still caught me and forced me to turn around, keeping a hold on my wrist.

“Why are you running away from me?”

“I don’t know, maybe because some random car was following me, a girl who is alone, for over five minutes?” I reply sarcastically.

“I’ve been calling you but you weren’t answering.”

“Call? I probably blocked your number. Look, I’m not interested in pretending to rekindle some broken bond.”

“Y/n… don’t be like this you know I-”

“Don’t pull the remorseful brother act, Youngho-oppa. If you really cared you would have looked for me after I left,” I spat.

Unlike his sister Younghee who openly showed her indifference, not hearing from him was worse than being thrown out. Youngho was the only one in the entire family that showed me a smidge of kindness, let alone acknowledging my presence when no one else did. It wasn’t until a year after being kicked out did I learn I was nothing more than a stray puppy he played with cause he was bored.

“Don’t be like this y/n. Mom hasn’t been in the right state of mind since dad died. She didn’t mean to hurt you and she’s trying to make it up to you,” he coaxed, pulling me in to stop the wandering ears from hearing.

“That’s a load of shit and you know it. That woman never liked me the minute I was brought in and she made sure everyone but dad knew that. Will she give back the shares to dad’s company that are rightfully mine?”

His eyebrow twitched and I caught the crack in his facade. Every single one of them are selfish creatures and they will never betray their true nature, a fact I learned the hard way and will not underestimate again.

“Y/n things are sensitive now as is, you can’t just ask for something like that. Why would you want something like those? Aren’t you studying design?”

“Wow, someone did their research. If design doesn’t work I should at least have the shares to give me some support. It was a decent portion wasn’t it?” I pushed.

“Stop acting like a child there are bigger things going on so just cooperate. The faster you do the less we have to see each other. Do you think I have time to chase you around like this?”

And his true color shows. By now his hold on my arm had turned into a vice grip and it hurt like hell but I couldn’t show weakness now, they don’t get to win after everything.

“Ha… I can’t believe I waited six months to hear from you like you actually cared. Sometimes you really are worse than your mother.”

My head snapped to the side in an instant and it was numb for a moment before the stinging settled in. I knew something of this caliber would happen… for his own reasons he hated his mother. Who knew it would tick him off that much? Before either of us could come back from the shock, a hand broke the hold on my wrist and my line of sight was covered by someone’s back. The mystery person shielded me from my brother and I immediately recognized the ring on their pinky. Should I be glad or panicked that Jeongin’s here?

“Sorry I’m late, is this person bothering you?”

“Oh? Is this your boyfriend?” Youngho smirked, eyeing him up and down.

“No.” I roll my eyes, trying my best to mask my unease. Jeongin doesn’t need to be dragged into my family drama. I tug at his hand lightly and he turned to look back at me, “Come on, we’re late meeting the others. This conversation is over anyways.”

Once in front of the pub, Jeongin turned to examine my face. Seeing such concern in his eyes I couldn’t stop the surge of emotion that came over me as tears started to fall.

“Are you okay?! You must’ve been scared…” he panicked and I shook my head.

“Thank you,” I sniffed.

“You still got hit… I can’t believe-”

“It’s whatever.” This was not the first time someone from that family raised their hand to me, I expected nothing less… and I did purposefully push his buttons. “I deserved it. I provoked him.”

In an instant my gaze that was trained on the ground was forced to meet his piercing eyes by the gentle force of his hand nudging my chin. He had leaned in so that we were eye level and my brain nearly short circuited at his close proximity. Well that’s one way to stop tears.

“It doesn’t matter if you provoked him, that shouldn’t have happened y/n. No one deserves that, do you understand?”

It surprised me how serious he was about this. I don’t know if it was the butterflies from how close he was or the unsettling feeling of being… perceived, but I couldn’t think. Instead I numbly nodded, my eyes never leaving his as if under a spell. The corner of his lips quirked up at my response before he ushered me into the pub and sat me in my usual seat. He tossed a bag to Chan, that I hadn’t noticed he had, before disappearing to the back. Jeongin re-emerged with some ice and placed it on my face causing me to wince a bit. Taking it from his hands, he reached for my arm but I instinctively pulled away.

“Is your arm okay?”

“It’s fine. Probably slightly bruised at most but nothing serious.”

He eyed me suspiciously but before he could say anything Jaehyung barged over, worry written all over his face.

“Y/n! What happened?!”

“It’s nothing,” I smiled. He immediately whirled on Jeongin and gave him a pointed look.

“I caught some guy bothering her when I was out buying Chan-hyung some Advil and he… slapped her,” he responded guiltily.

I don’t know if I should admire or be annoyed by his honesty. I tiredly rubbed my forehead, already feeling the anger rolling off of Jaehyung.

“Don’t feel guilty Jeongin,” I smiled before turning to Jaehyung. “Thanks for getting mad for me but it’s not worth it Jaehyung-oppa.”

“Was it your fam-”

“Yes,” I cut him off, but that was more than enough for Jeongin to put the pieces together. Not wanting to hear anything from either of them I add, “I’m fine, really. Plus Changbin is coming so don’t worry okay?”

“Not worry? You usually end up home drunk and always make bad decisions with him.”

“Ninety-six percent of the time it’s me, bad decisions help relieve stress you know,” I smile like a child trying not to get in trouble.

Jaehyung ruffled my hair with a resigned sigh before telling me not to come home too drunk and went off. Jeongin kept me company but I had to ignore his eyes that were filled with questions I didn’t want to answer. Luckily Changbin came soon after but his eyes zeroed in on my cheek and was ready to square up with Jeongin before I intervened.

"Nope. I'll explain later, let's go." I gave him no time to argue as I waved Jeongin goodbye and sped to the door.

Knowing that I’ve come from a deprived childhood, Changbin’s lenient with me and my impulses. That being said, tonight is a total bust. Instead of somewhere fun, we’re at some restaurant because as Changbin puts it, he needs to “gage my recklessness” since I “act up more” when my family is involved.

“I ordered some food… and alcohol since I promised to take you out to have fun but before that, what the hell happened? Who hit you? Wh-”

“Are you going to keep going or do you actually want me to answer the questions?”

“Obviously answer them you smart ass. ”

“Long story short it was Youngho and the guy from the pub basically saved me more or less.”

His eyes softened at the mention of my brother. The first six months I was kicked out I stayed with Changbin until Hyorin, my mom's best friend who had been acting like an actual guardian for me since my dad died, helped me find an affordable place. He’s the one who saw the emotional toll it took when the one person I believed to be on my side threw me away.

“I would’ve thought he would be too busy with company stuff to come out, especially since he is under a microscope right now with the chairman’s health issues and all.”

“That’s why wicked stepmother and her children are on my tail. They’re trying to exploit our relationship, tied by nothing more than my father’s blood, to try to win grandma over cause she is fond of me and has a big share.” I ran an annoyed hand through my hair before whining, “so can we go clubbing?”

“Yeah… no. I’ll be having to pry off some guy from trying to take you home because you’re wasted.”

“No. That only happened like… four? times…”

“Four times too many. But drink your fill here and let Mr. Neighbor know that you’re staying at mine. If I bring you home drop dead drunk again I think he would actually kill me.”

“You’re probably right,” I laugh before shooting a quick text to Jaehyung. Once I put my phone down, the waitress came in with our order and I pointed at Changbin, “no talking about the unholy trinity or I’m leaving to go be unsupervised.”

“Yes, yes. I spoil you too much,” he sighs before adding, “how is the chairman anyways?”

“Grandpa still wants to believe I don’t exist and last I heard from grandma was that his heart isn’t in good health. It’s hard to treat when they’re trying to hide it from the company. Everyone knows he’s sick but not how bad,” I respond flatly.

“... Okay one question and I’ll stop. Who are the other runner ups other than… you know who?”

I downed my second shot in annoyance. Changbin and Jaehyung could be good friends if they let it happen, they’re both so nosy… I could care less about company drama though so I tell him. Not like I’ll get in trouble.

“I- Are you asking me to leave?”

“Oh come on, if they’re this desperate that means there are other strong candidates right?”

“Fine.” I glare, shoving some food in my mouth before answering, “They’re looking into my cousin Wooin and a long-term director Jihyo. They have high performance with successful big projects under their belt in addition to having the favor of various important people.”

“Okay, so what’s this about finding Loverboy? It’s been what? A year with no contact?”

“Of course I do. That was the first time I formed a fat crush on a guy I just met,” I roll my eyes. “It’s the guy you wanted to beat up, Jeongin. It’s been a few months but he’s been working at Jaehyung’s pub.”

I don’t know if it was the alcohol doing its job but I started to get sentimental as I thought back to our first meeting. That night was during a relatively low point in my life and I was losing touch with the world around me, but he was the first thing I found interest in after a long time. As if my brain wanted to torture me, the image of his face mere inches from mine popped back into my mind.

“Did something already happen?! Your face is red!”

“Shut up. He still has a girl he likes so no.”

“Still?” Changbin whistles in surprise, “That’s what I call devotion. Does he remember you?”

“Nope. To make matters… interesting, she works there too and has a crush on Jaehyung-oppa.”

“Wait that cute new waitress? On that old man? And I thought you had problems,” he laughs.

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids au #skz imagines #skz au #yang jeongin #jeongin imagines #jeongin au #server! jeongin x regular! y/n #my writing #wslwe?

7 notes · View notes

maria-scribbles · 4 years

Text

glitter + crimson (let’s start a riot)//part three

summary: while mother nature isn’t very kind to the obx, jj’s dad is even worse to him. sailor sees the aftermath, relives a day that changed her life forever, and realizes she’d be down with murder if she could get away with it. between nutella sandwiches, story time, and a shared bed, an unspoken thing slowly starts to become a little more real.

word count: 6.9k+ (oops 😅)

ship: jj maybank x oc (sailor flynn)

warnings: abuse/neglect, blood, mentions of parental abandonment/gambling addiction, swearing, whump, hurt/comfort, fluff, blatant references to hocus pocus, the little mermaid, percy jackson and the olympians, and mean girls (and a teeny, subtle reference to stranger things, see if y’all can catch it! 😉)

a/n: i was so excited to write this part, not gonna lie (if you couldn’t tell, just look at that word count). hurt/comfort is my shittt and i’m a pretty big slut for physical comfort/touches so i kinda went ham with it lol. i’m also very happy to finally introduce everyone to peyton, who’s a character i really love and enjoy writing, especially her relationship with her gf alison. both of them will get some time to shine in this part, peyton in the present and alison in the past! as usual, this is unbetaed so all mistakes belong to me. enjoy!

gif credit to @sci-fi

~Masterlist~

part one | part two | part four | playlist

part three: storm surge

It rains the entire week. Scratch that -it storms: the whole island buffeted by howling winds and blanketed by a thick layer of dark and angry clouds that make life just shy of miserable. For someone who spends 99% of her time outside like Sailor, miserable doesn’t begin to cover it. And to think, it’s only the beginning of hurricane season.

The redhead props her chin in one tan hand as she leans against the cool marble counter of The Butterscotch Bonnet Ice Cream Parlor, watching the rain pound against the shop’s bay windows. Across the street she can just make out the rough, gray surf of the Atlantic through a tiny gap in between two buildings and she sighs wistfully, thinking about all the beautiful shells getting tossed onto the beach by the waves. She’s half tempted to just throw off her apron, hop the counter, and make a break for the sand, storm be damned.

She’s almost positive she wouldn’t even be missed. There isn’t a customer in sight and there hasn’t been one since she started her shift three hours ago. Peyton was still in the back kitchen, messing around with whatever convoluted ice cream flavor she thought up for this week; her boss definitely has a knack for concocting weird combinations that somehow work together, at least most of the time. Sailor thinks back to a few weeks ago when they debuted that delicious blackberry balsamic that sold out every day without fail, then followed it with a cilantro lime that was hit-or-miss (a definite miss in her opinion, as cilantro just tastes like soap to her; Peyton had just smiled her infectious smile, shrugged her tiny shoulders, and said, “Can’t win ‘em all, I guess.”) This week’s flavor involves mascarpone and peaches and she can’t wait to steal a sample because if the wonderful smell coming from the kitchen is any indication, it’s gonna be bomb, even though it probably won’t upset the shop’s namesake flavor from the top of her list.

Thinking about ice cream makes her kind of hungry, on top of the fact that she has a terrible habit of eating when she’s bored, so she dishes out a small scoop of Butterscotch Bonnet and grabs a spoon before leaning back against the counter, digging through the cup to find the best part: salted caramel-filled chocolate sea shells, made in house. The days Sailor gets to help make them are her favorite days to come to work, when she and Peyton commandeer the kitchen and have the time of their lives, blasting music and dancing as they slave away. Of course, the little bag of chocolates she gets to take home is a pretty big plus, too.

“That’s coming out of your paycheck, Sail.”

Spoon halfway to her mouth, she sheepishly glances up from her snack as Peyton emerges from the kitchen, fondly shaking her head and sending her inky black braids dancing across her shoulders.

“What am I gonna do with you?” She continues with a wink before starting to make herself a milkshake, dropping two scoops of their tiramisu flavor into a malt cup.

“Sorry, you know I can’t help myself!” Sailor knows the other girl was joking but she apologizes anyway and opens the cabinet to grab a cup and straw for her, setting them on the counter beside the old-fashioned milkshake machine. As far as bosses go, Peyton is one of the all-around best to have and the redhead loves working at her shop. While the Buckleys are rich as shit and total kooks, the family’s youngest daughter is down to earth, kind, and prefers to work hard for what she wants instead of flaunting her parents’ wealth and The Butterscotch Bonnet is proof that, despite her last name and penchant for the finer things, she’s a pogue at heart. It’s no wonder Alison’s head over heels for her.

“I also know you’re bored as shit.” Peyton calls over the sound of the blender, sending a knowing smirk toward the younger girl, who rolls her eyes and shovels another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth as she replies, “Obviously. This weather fucking sucks.”

A loud clap of thunder seems to shake the very glass in the windows and she gestures toward the storm outside, her point proven. Peyton glances around the deserted shop, still bright and cheery despite its lack of movement and life, then back to the relentless downpour, before shrugging and turning back to finish blending her milkshake. “Wanna go home early?”

“Seriously?”

“Why not? You’ve already cleaned this whole place from top to bottom and I don’t think we’re gonna be getting customers any time soon.” Ignoring the paper cup, she plops the straw straight into her drink and takes a big sip, then nods in satisfaction before adding a huge swirl of whipped cream on top.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best?” Sailor asks, smiling excitedly as she grabs her bag from under the counter and tosses her empty cup into the trash.

“Only every day,” the older girl replies cheekily, smiling as she’s pulled into a one-armed hug of thanks by her employee.

“Well, you’re gonna hear it again: you’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peyton pats the redhead’s shoulder with one deep brown hand and then gently pushes her toward the kitchen. “Now get out of here, brat. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Sailor throws a peace sign over her shoulder as she heads out the door, cackling at her boss’s offended call of “don’t call me ma’am!” After clocking out, she fishes her keys out of her bag and dashes through the downpour to her beat-up clunker of a truck. A hand-me-down from Alison, Flounder’s nothing to look at with all the dents and chips in his blue paint, but he gets her where she needs to go and has room for surfboards in the back and two other pogues up front on the bench seat -and the other two unlucky ones riding in the bed, hiding under the boards- so she’s not complaining, even though she wishes his radio worked more than half the time.

(Two reasons why John B’s almost always the group chauffeur: the fact that he can legally drive all five of them around without breaking the law -not that they’ve ever gotten caught in Sailor’s truck but anyone with a brain knows that where one pogue goes, the other four aren’t far behind- and good music flowing from a perfectly working stereo.)

Unfortunately, it’s on the fritz today so her drive home is spent listening to the sounds of Flounder’s windshield wipers and the pounding of rain against his roof. She heads inland from the beach, away from Peyton’s shop in the outskirts of affluent Figure 8 and its kook mansions to the more homey, laid-back Cut, passing by the turnoff to the Chateau and through the woods before pulling into the empty driveway of her tiny house. The fact that her mother’s car is no where to be found doesn’t surprise her in the slightest. Waiting for her on the porch is Binx, the stray black cat she’s taken to feeding and more or less adopted, stretching on the blanket she left out for him.

“Hey, handsome,” The redhead says, kneeling down to give him a loving scratch behind the ears; he meows in response and rubs his fuzzy face against her ankles, weaving between her legs as she slides her key into the lock. “Come on in.”

The front door closes behind them with a hollow bang that echoes through the empty house like the thunder outside. Sailor hangs up her keys and follows Binx down the hall toward her room, ignoring the closed door that leads to her mom’s room and a bed that she assumes hasn’t been slept in in months. Not that she would know: she’s made it a habit to spend as few nights as possible alone in the house, instead crashing at the Chateau or Kiara’s place and hoping her mom’s comfortable in her makeshift room at The Sandbar where Carmen doesn’t have to deal with the teenager she’s supposed to be caring for (Sailor’s always been an independent girl and has no trouble getting by alone but fuck, that doesn’t mean she wants to.).

Her father’s green eyes, the same color as her own, stare back at her from a picture hanging on the wall of a better time, when everything was alright and her family wasn’t so broken; the three of them on the beach with a twelve year old Sailor in the middle and surfboards in hand. Carmen looks like the mother she remembers and misses so bad it hurts, and while Ryan wasn’t always the most caring of fathers and only acted like a dad when it was convenient, she’d still do anything to have him back, terrible parenting skills and all. She turns away from the picture and the complicated mess her heart becomes when she thinks about him, continuing down the hall to her room.

Complicated doesn’t even begin to cover her feelings about her dad, though. She’s always believed she was an afterthought to him, never first on his list but still good enough to tag along for company when he was doing something he wanted to do. He was a man who liked the idea of having a kid but never wanted to actually step up and parent when things weren’t all fun and games, instead deciding to take off to Atlantic City for a month or two at a time to gamble away whatever money they earned at the surf shop.

She wants to hate him. She should loathe him and in a way, she does. She hates the way he still makes her feel like everything’s her fault, even when he’s not around. She hates the person her mother becomes when he disappears, someone distant and cold and so unlike the good, caring mother Sailor remembers. She hates that home doesn’t feel like home anymore and it’s all his fault, and she hates that despite everything he’s put her through, all the hurt he’s caused, she still can’t find it in her big, bleeding heart to truly detest her father. After all, he could’ve been worse. So, so much worse.

The only place she can get away from everything is her room, her own little sanctuary from the cold emptiness of the rest of the house and constant reminders of Ryan’s absence. It’s warm and bright, the walls painted a sunny yellow that reminds her of lazy days relaxing on the beach. Her first surfboard hangs on the wall above her bed, tucked away in a corner, doubling as a shelf for her massive shell collection while pictures of her and her friends dangle underneath, pinned to a long piece of twine. Her current boards stand propped in another corner, leaning against a wall plastered with all types of movie and music posters. Through the windows covered with curtains as light as sea foam, the rain steadily pours but in here, she��s safe. In here, she can breathe.

Sailor strips off her uniform, tossing it along with her bag onto the chair by the door and slips out of her worn red high-tops before pulling on a pair of sleep shorts and the first long-sleeve shirt her fingers find in the closet, then flops onto her bed and pulls the soft blue blanket around her shoulders, reading glasses and well-loved copy of The Lightning Thief in hand while Binx curls up at her feet. Every summer without fail she rereads the series (why, she’s not exactly sure: maybe its nostalgia, maybe its because she lowkey relates to water-loving, steadfastly loyal Percy) and she’s fallen behind this year, so she fully intends on reading as much as she can tonight before bed. The storm provides perfect background noise and soon she’s five chapters in before a sudden loud knock on her window causes her head to snap up in alarm.

Oh no. Without bothering to save her place, she tosses the book and her glasses aside and scrambles from the bed to the window, tearing open the curtains to reveal a sight she always dreads seeing. Her best friend stands outside in the rain, soaked to the bone, hand pressed against his side, and the sight of bright red blood trailing down his face and staining the collar of his gray shirt makes her heart drop to her stomach. Wordlessly, she opens the window and helps him climb inside before closing it firmly and drawing the curtains, once again blocking the world from her -now their- sanctuary, then grabs her blanket from the bed and wraps it tightly around JJ’s shaking shoulders after he kicks off his sodden boots.

Her hand slowly moves to cup his face and her heart breaks a little more when he tenses, blue eyes carefully tracking its movement until he seems to remember who it belongs to and lets himself lean into her touch, cheek resting against her palm. Sailor runs her thumb under his split lip and and wipes at the crimson staining his tan skin, her mouth curving into a small frown when she only succeeds in smearing it further.

“Come on,” She breaks the silence with her gentle voice, barely above a whisper, and reaches her other hand out to take his, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

His fingers hold so, so tight as she leads him down the hall to the bathroom and she’s so laser-focused on the way they tremble against hers that she doesn’t notice the blood left behind on the handle when she opens the door. After flicking on the light she turns to face him and gently pushes the blanket from his shoulders with her free hand, letting it fall to the floor in a damp heap, then blindly reaches behind her to turn on the shower, cranking the heat as high as it’ll go.

“Sorry about your blanket.” JJ says at last, his voice quiet, and Sailor shakes her head, running her thumb in circles on the back of his cold hand.

“I don’t care about that, J.” She replies just as quiet and before she can stop herself, before she can think about what exactly she’s about to admit, she adds, “I care about you.”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a barely-there smile and while it may be tiny, it’s a smile nonetheless and she feels the tight knot in her chest begin to loosen as she lets go of his hand, reaching for the hem of his shirt. “Can you lift your arms for me?”

He does as she asks but his pained wince doesn’t go unnoticed by the redhead when she pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it on top of the discarded blanket, and her jaw clenches at the sight of deep purple bruises in the shape of his father’s fists marring the skin over his ribs.

“Let me know if this hurts.” Oh so carefully she reaches out with one hand and gently touches the darkest mark, where she’d seen him clutching at outside her window, her fingers delicately feeling for any damages.

“A little.” He admits, shaky breath warm against her forehead and she does her best to keep her hand steady as she checks over the rest of him, then feathers her fingers back over that first bruise.

“It doesn’t feel like anything’s broken or cracked, so that’s good.” She says, allowing her hand to linger for a second before letting it fall from his side. “A rib or two might be a little bruised, though, so we’ll put some ice on them later, just in case. Sound good?”

JJ nods and watches her with those ocean blue eyes as she pulls her own shirt over her head, leaving her in a plain black cami and shorts, before grabbing his hand once again and pulling him into the shower with her. The water’s just a tad too hot and it instantly starts turning her skin red but Sailor doesn’t mind, instead choosing to embrace the heat and the way it burns everything away, leaving behind brand new skin that’s ready for a new day, new adventures. She reaches up and gingerly wipes the blood from her best friend’s face; in a mirror of earlier, he leans his cheek into her palm, eyes slowly closing while both arms wrap around her waist and pull her close.

“Sail,” He whispers her nickname into the humid air between them and she barely registers the tremble in his voice before his knees buckle, sinking them both to the shower floor until they’re face to face, sitting in between each other’s legs. He clings to her, arms even tighter around her waist and face buried against her neck, and she feels the shake of his shoulders when she winds her own arms around them. One hand moves to steadily run through wet blond hair, over and over, comforting in the best way she knows how, the fingers of her other hand tracing circles on the bare skin of his back as water continues to rain down on them like the downpour outside.

She’s eerily reminded of another time they sat like this, sobbing in each other’s arms five years ago, the first time she saw just how cruel his father could be, the first time she realized she’d do absolutely everything and anything to keep him safe, and it was both one of the best and worst days of her life.

Eleven year old Sailor shoved her math textbook into her cluttered locker and kicked it shut with a scowl. She hated math, her math teacher, and especially whoever made her schedule- who in their right mind would put math in eighth-period? She swung her backpack onto her shoulder and grunted softly at the extra weight it carried. JJ hadn’t come to school that day and Sailor had volunteered to take his missed work to him; it made sense, considering she lived closest out of the pogues and it’d make her feel better if she got to check on him herself -there was a reason the rest of the group called her the mom friend, after all.

She’d already collected assignments from the classes he shared with Pope and Kiara as well as herself, so now she was just waiting for John B to drop off his own. As if summoned by her thoughts, the brunet boy rounded the corner and waved, weaving his way to her through their fellow middle-schoolers. “Sorry, you know how Mr. Jefferson likes to go on and on and on...” He said, pulling some papers from his backpack and handing them to the redhead. “Do you remember where J’s house is?”

Sailor rolled her eyes and carefully slid the homework into her own bag. “Considering I live, like, five streets away, I sure hope so.” She fired back, ignoring his cackle of laughter as they joined the rush of students, excited for the weekend, flooding out through the double doors of Kildare County Middle School. She lingered by her friend as he unlocked his bike from the rack and then climbed on, asking, “You’re helping out at the shop on Saturday, right?”

She nodded, scanning the sea of waiting cars and waving when she spotted her ride. “Yeah, why?”

“My dad and I are gonna hang out at the beach that day so we’ll stop by and say hi.” With a casual salute in her direction he slowly started pedaling down the road, calling back over his shoulder, “Tell JJ he can come too if he’s feeling better!”

“Tell him yourself!” She yelled after his retreating back, not surprised in the slightest when he didn’t turn around and disappeared into the trees. Alison’s beat up blue truck pulled up to the curb seconds later and the older redhead leaned out the open window, a shit-eating grin on her face as she joked, “Get in loser, we’re going shopping!”

Sailor laughed and climbed into the passenger seat, dropping her backpack on the floor with a loud thump. Alison winced at the sound, raising her eyebrow as she waited for the younger girl to put her seatbelt on. “What the hell do you have in there, rocks?”

“One of my friends missed school today so I have his homework. Do you mind driving by so I can drop it off? He only lives a few streets away.”

“Sure,” Alison replied, flicking on her turn signal and merging into the stream of cars leaving the school’s parking lot. “So who skipped: Smarty Pants, Bandana Boy, or Surfer Bro?”

The eleven year old giggled at the nicknames -she’d never admit it, but they were honestly pretty accurate- and replied, “Surfer Bro. And his name is JJ, Ali.”

“Rightttt, JJ. What do you think it stands for, huh? Jesse James? John Jacob?”

“Oh my Godddddd!”

The high school senior continued to come up with names, each more ridiculous than the last until Sailor exclaimed “There!” and directed her to park near a small, run-down house on a quiet road. She pulled a folder from her backpack and was out the door before the older girl could blink, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll be right back!”

The redhead slammed the truck door behind her and made her way toward the porch and what she assumed was the front door; she’d never been inside JJ’s house but he always came out to meet them through there so she figured it was a safe bet. The smile fell from her face, ears registering the sound of horrible, angry yelling just as she brought her fist down to knock and she anxiously fidgeted back and forth on the step, her heart starting to beat fast in her chest. What the hell was going on?

"Fucking hell!” An enraged shout came clear as day from inside and as she heard the person’s stomping approach, something in her, a feeling, urged her to hide the folder in her hand behind her back. She jumped in surprise when the door was suddenly ripped open, revealing a fuming, red-faced man who glared down at her with heavily lidded eyes and one hand clenched in a fist at his side, the other holding the threshold in a white-knuckled grip. “What the hell do you want?”

“H-hi, I’m Sailor, one of JJ’s friends? He wasn’t at school today so I came by to check on him.” She said, proud of herself for keeping most of the tremble out of her voice while she studiously avoided his cruel gaze, instead subtly trying to peer behind him and hopefully catch a glimpse of her friend. The man, who she realized with sheer horror had to be JJ’s dad, was absolutely terrifying, with breath reeking of booze and mouth curled into a vicious snarl as he moved to block her view into the house and snapped, “Kid’s fine. Now get the fuck outta here.”

“Can I just see-”

She was cut off when he slammed the door in her face with the hand that had been by his side and her eyes widened, stomach sinking with dread as she caught sight of the splotch of bright crimson left behind on the wood. Oh, God. This could not be happening. She remembered John B’s warning about JJ’s dad, saying he wasn’t a very nice man when she became friends with them last year but she didn’t recall him ever saying anything about this and it hits her like a freight train: he probably didn’t know. Her heart pounded against her ribcage. If JB didn’t know then Pope and Kiara definitely didn’t and a sickening feeling started to churn her belly, both at the thought of JJ facing all of this by himself and the fact that she alone had the power to help.

Inside the house, she heard his dad resume his screaming, every other word accompanied by a sickening thumping noise she’d only heard in person once before, a few years ago on the beach with her parents when two drunk tourons started wailing on each other over a spilled beer: the sound of a fist hitting flesh. Sailor started to panic, both hands flying to cover her mouth in terror. Underneath the screaming and punching, she couldn’t hear anything, any cry or yelp or whimper from her friend and, mind racing with million terrible, awful thoughts, she turned and ran back to the truck, flinging open the door and scrambling inside to grab Alison’s arm, folder in her hands falling to the floor.

“Ali, please, we’ve got to help him-”

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” The older girl joked as she looked up from her phone, smile falling from her lips when she caught sight of the eleven year old’s pale face and wide eyes. She reached over and placed her hands on Sailor’s slight, trembling shoulders. “What’s going on?”

Her lip quivered terribly as she told Alison everything she saw and heard, watching her expression slowly twist into outright dismay, the fingers on her shoulders tightening their grip when she finished, “Ali, what’re we gonna do? We have to help him right now!”

“Fuck, okay, first off let’s calm down- don’t give me that look, kid! We can’t just burst in there like Wonder Woman or something, let me- oh, look!” Alison pointed through windshield, where JJ’s dad furiously stalked from the house to his truck, climbing inside and violently slamming the door before taking off in a cloud of dust. Sailor quickly ducked when he drove by and stayed down until the older redhead gave her the all clear, “He’s gone. That was perfect timing, huh?”

She didn’t reply or even wait for her to unbuckle her seatbelt, taking off at a sprint and bounding onto the porch in no time, furiously knocking against the door. “Hey, J, are you there? It’s Sailor.”

There was no reply and her heart dropped to her stomach. Alison joined her on the front step, her face blanching when her eyes landed on the blood stain on the corner of the door. One of her hands reached out to grab the handle while the other found Sailor’s smaller one and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Come on,” With no hesitation and the bravery Sailor wished she had, the eighteen year old pushed the door open and pulled them both into the dusky house. The younger redhead wrinkled her nose at the sight of beer cans and pill bottles littering a circle around the couch but she pressed on, calling his name as the girls moved room to room.

“Sail?” The sound of JJ’s pained voice coming from the room at the end of the hall made her heart skip a beat and she dropped Alison’s hand, running forward and bursting through the door in a rush, not even thinking about what state her friend might’ve been in. Feeling like she’d just been sucker punched right in the gut at the sight of him lying face down on the floor with a small puddle of blood forming under his mouth, she dropped to her knees beside him and delicately took his hand in both of hers, nearly crying in relief when his fingers gripped tight to her palm. Behind her, she heard Alison’s sharp intake of breath as she entered the room, darting over to kneel on JJ’s other side and place a gentle hand on his shoulder, and together they carefully helped him roll onto his back, then up into a sitting position with the older girl’s arm behind him as a brace.

Her jaw trembled as she tried and tried to say something, anything; her head was filled with so many questions -what happened, how could he do this, when did this start?- but the only thing she managed to ask was a simple, “Why?”

“It’s just what he does.” He replied with a shrug, wincing at the movement, “I’m sorry, Sail.”

“What the hell are you apologizing for?” She asked incredulously, then followed his finger as he pointed at a pile of jagged yellowish-brown pieces on the floor by his bed.

“He broke the shell you gave me.” He looked so upset, so distraught over the broken whelk and she felt her heart swell with waves of affection for her friend, who was more concerned about her broken gift than he was about himself.

“Hey,” She said softly, turning away from the mess to look him in the eye with a small smile, her hand reaching out on its own accord to brush a lock of fine blond hair away from a cut near his temple. “It’s just a shell, okay? I’ll find you another one.”

The sight of blood on his teeth when he returned her smile reminded her of the task at hand and she shook her head, wrapping her thin arm around his waist. “Let’s get you out of here. Think you can stand?” At his nod, both girls put one of his arms around their shoulders and slowly stood, shuffling out the door with all the grace and speed of an old man with two bad knees, but hey, they were moving and getting JJ out of that terrible place, so she’d go as slow as they needed to, even if her anxiety was getting worse and worse with each passing second they spent in the house.

After loading the kids onto the bench seat of the truck, Alison quickly drove them to the empty Flynn residence -Carmen and Ryan still working at the shop- and helped Sailor move JJ into the bathroom. “I’ll go grab you some towels and dry clothes, okay? I think some of your dad’s old stuff might fit him.” She said, watching as the young girl kneeled beside her friend and started untying his shoes.

The eleven year old nodded at her older friend and sent her a small smile. “Thanks, Ali.”

“No problem, kiddos.” With a quick smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes she was gone, heading down the hall toward the laundry room.

Sailor reached over and turned the shower on as hot as possible. “Okay, um, take as long as you need, I guess. I’ll wait outside.” She jerked her thumb toward the hall but before she could even take a step, his hand darted out and grabbed her wrist.

“Stay.” It was more of a demand than a question and JJ seemed embarrassed to even be saying it, the uninjured parts of his face turning an endearing shade of pink. “Please?”

She just nodded and reached a leg out to gently kick the door shut, her mind racing. She stayed but what the hell should she do now, keep her back turned? Get in the shower with him? From the way he was fidgeting back and forth and avoiding her eyes, he was probably thinking the same thing.

“Oh, come on.” She finally said after a minute or two of decidedly not looking at each other and kicked off her sandals, darting forward on impulse to grab his hand and pull them both under the spray. The water uncomfortably soaked into their clothes and made their movements sluggish as they clumsily shuffled around -stepping on each other’s toes and mumbling identical apologies- before finding a position that was only a little bit awkward in the confined space, his arms on either side of her waist and bracing against the wall, her hands tentatively resting on his shoulders.

“This okay?” She asked, feeling her cheeks reddening from more than just the steam curling around them and frizzing her hair, and JJ nodded, swallowing thickly and blinking away a droplet of red-tinged condensation that slid down his forehead. Her hand, moving on its own accord, slowly reached for his face until her palm gently came to rest against his flushed cheek, the tip of her pointer finger just brushing a small cut that sliced through one eyebrow.

“How...” Sailor shook her head, taking a deep breath before finally asking the question that’d been on her mind since this whole thing started, “How long has this been happening?”

Once again he avoided her wide-eyed gaze, eyelids fluttering shut as he answered hesitantly, quietly, “I...I don’t remember a time when it didn’t.”

His answer chipped away the last brick in the dam and the floodgates broke. She flung herself into his chest, arms wrapping around his shoulders and fingers twisting in the sodden fabric of his shirt, sobbing into the warm skin of his neck. He froze in her embrace, whole body stock-still until something in him seemed to break too, and his own arms encircled her waist, bit by bit, pulling her close as he buried his face into her shoulder and two sixth graders slowly slumped to the shower floor in a tangled mess of limbs.

“J, why didn’t you say anything?”

His body trembled in her arms and she inhaled sharply at his reply of, “Because I’m not worth it.”

Pulling away from his neck to rest her forehead against his, she cupped his face in both hands and forced him to look her in the eyes, her voice quiet but adamant, insistent as she said, “Don’t you dare say that again, got it? You are worth it. So, so worth it.”

The look behind his red-rimmed, ocean blue gaze was made of pure, unadulterated disbelief and Sailor, at a loss, wracked her brain for something, anything she could do to make him see himself the way she did: loyal, adventurous, funny, and oh so brave, already a beloved, dear friend to her in the short time she’d known him. How could she help him realize he was so much more than his father’s abuse?

‘What can I do to make you believe me?’

An epiphany came to her like a bolt of lightning straight to the heart. It was more than a little crazy and the thought of actually doing it was lowkey terrifying but she’d seen it work beautifully for Alison and her girlfriend Peyton that one time and hell, she was so desperate to help her friend that she’d do just about anything. And so before her anxious mind could start to overthink she surged forward, both hands still holding his face in a gentle grip, and firmly pressed her lips to his.

JJ’s eyes were almost comically wide while he stared, frozen still at her touch, and her own eyes were just as huge as she held the kiss for a few seconds and then abruptly pulled back, her face slowly changing into a shade very similar to her hair.

“Y-you, I-” He stuttered, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as a deep pink flush started to color the tan skin of his neck. “Wh-why-”

“Because you are worthy, J. Promise me you won’t forget that.” Her words were as fierce as the hug she pulled him into, only letting the tension bleed out of her when she felt him gradually return her embrace and nod against her shoulder.

“I promise, Sail.”

“Good.”

And with that they fell silent, holding each other tight until the shower ran cold.

Sailor didn’t know it at the time but that hadn’t been just her first kiss but JJ’s too, as they never talked about it until two years later, during a game of truth or dare with the rest of the pogues. Neither actually told the truth, both giving a vague answer about a bet that seemed to placate their friends enough to let the matter drop, never to be brought up again.

The only kiss that happens today is the light brush of her lips against his forehead as she holds him close, even as the water slowly begins to lose its warmth. His embrace is tight, their limbs intertwined so fully that it’s hard to discern where one ends and the other begins and when he speaks, she has to strain to hear the words mumbled against her neck over the pounding spray of the shower.

“I don’t know how much more I can take.”

His confession cuts her deep. Hearing him admit something so utterly heartbreaking and vulnerable, coming from the side of him Sailor alone gets to see, ignites a fury that simmers under her skin and burns her from the inside out, thoughts turning venomous and, dare she say, downright homicidal. Fuck his dad. Fuck his dad and everything he’s ever done to hurt her best friend, both with and without fists.

“If I could get away with murder, I would.”

It’s true. For JJ, she’d do anything and everything to keep him safe without hesitation, up to and including maiming his dad so he could never touch him again (and if she happened to take it a little too far and straight up kill the bastard, she’d most definitely be fine with it.). He laughs, but it’s empty, hollow, and sorely lacking the joy, the carefreeness, the pure life that it normally radiates.

“You’re not the only one.”

Some time later, after the water raining down on them turns ice cold and their tears have dried, they reluctantly disentangle themselves from each other and towel off before making a quick detour to the kitchen to grab an ice pack for his ribs and have a meager dinner of sandwiches made with the last of her bread and a near empty jar of Nutella. He laughs, for real this time, when he reads the note she writes herself on the fridge future sailor, as much as you want to, you can’t live off just nutella and sheer spite, okay? please go shopping. love, past sailor <3 and grabs the marker out of her hand, adding +past jj and a little smiley face that makes her smile brightly.

They return to her room where they change, back to back, into dry clothes -one of her dresser drawers is full of his things she’s stolen acquired over the years- and, after throwing everything wet, including their discarded shirts and blanket retrieved from the bathroom, into the washing machine to be dealt with some other time, they lie on her bed side by side, shoulder to shoulder, wrapped up together in a spare throw stashed at the bottom of her closet. Binx slinks up from his spot at their feet and lazily drapes himself across their laps, purring like a motorboat when Sailor starts running her hand along his back.

“I almost sat on those,” JJ says, handing over her glasses, “and this.” He holds her forgotten book in his hands, casually flipping through the pages before turning it over and scanning the back cover.

“Have you read it before?”

He shrugs, a barely-there grimace briefly twisting his features as the motion jostles his sore ribs. “Started it, never finished.”

“Well,” She starts, slipping her glasses on and snatching the book out of his grasp, “how about we fix that? I’ll read, you pet the cat.”

Sailor’s voice is soft and steady as she starts to read aloud, a content smile on her face that’s echoed by the boy lying beside her when she settles against his side, head pillowed on the arm he curls around her shoulders without a thought. JJ’s the near perfect listener, only snickering once or twice at her total butchering of some of the more difficult Greek names (how come she can say Hephaestus just fine but gets tripped up on Dionysus?) but otherwise hanging off her every word and the relaxed ease with which he runs his hand through the ends of her damp hair fills her with a warmth, a happiness that she can’t describe but never wants to stop.

Hidden away from the rest of the world, curled up together on her bed, they forget the day’s past horrors and replace them with bright hopes for the future, exchanging comforting touches, deliberate yet played off as unintentional, in the soft glow of the bedside lamp -a caress of knuckles here, a brush of a palm there- as she reads into the night, until the cloudy sky darkens to black and they’re both fighting off the languid pull of sleep.

“I think that��s enough for today.” He plucks the book from her hands without waiting for a response and marks their place with a gas station receipt she was using as a makeshift placeholder, and setting it on the beside drawer.

“It’s your turn to read tomorrow,” He takes her glasses off with gentle fingers as she speaks into what little space still exists between them (that’s not otherwise occupied by Binx), smiling at the slow graze of his thumb along her cheek and nestles further against his side. “I’m done botching the names of deities for a while.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Damn it, Sailor kind of hates it when he says that cause it makes her feel things that she’s not quite ready to think about yet. Thankfully, her blush is swallowed by the darkness as he turns off the light and settles down beside her, arm slung low over her waist; her hand carefully brushes against his bruised ribs over the old shirt he wears, ice pack long ago thawed and thrown somewhere onto the hardwood floor.

“How do these feel? Better?”

She feels JJ nod, his chin brushing the top of her head. “Much.” There’s a pause, long enough that she starts to feel like she’s about to nod off, then he whispers, “Thank you, Sail. I know I don’t say it enough.”

She takes a deep breath, fingers stilling on his side, “Because you don’t need to, J. Remember what I said earlier, in the bathroom?”

He nods again but doesn’t reply, instead drawing circles on the small of her back, so she takes it as a cue to continue, “I care about you, okay? You don’t have to thank me for that. I’m just...doing what feels right.”

After a beat, the arm she’s using as a pillow curls and pulls her tighter against him as he says quietly, almost shyly, “I care about you, too.”

The rain outside had slowed to a drizzle without either teenager noticing and the gentle pitter-patter against the roof casts a somnolent spell into the air, dazed and dreamy. It wraps around the pair, not unlike the way they wrap around each other, and slowly, easily, safely, they drift off as one.

let me know what you think!

taglist ❤: @jiaraendgame @hmsjiara @heavensalreadyheres @obxsummer @maysbanks @alexa-playafricabytoto @sunflowerbecca @obxlife @obx-adventures @sexualparkour @mortifiedposts @coltonparayyko @miawantsapuppy @jjmaybanky

74 notes · View notes

staarshines · 4 years

Text

Attached: Chapter 1

Warnings: Spoilers for 6 Underground, basically everything related to getting a deep gash in your leg (blood, blood loss, description of wound, collapsing), a ton of cursing, Six’s death in detail, hydrogen peroxide on an open wound, mentions of stitches, passing out

WC: 2.1k

You know you’re not supposed to get close to the ghosts since their line of work is so dangerous, but you can’t help but fall in love with one of them. Being “Zero” means the ghosts are your top priority. But when you almost die putting them first, a certain blond wants you to rearrange those priorities.

[A/N]: I rewrote the truck that Four and Three were in during Florence to be a black 5 seater with a trunk kind of like this one anyway enjoy this :)

“That was… a shitshow,” you declare as Three pulls into the parking garage. Four just nods, resting his head against the window. You wince, trying to ignore the pulsing on the outside of your thigh. Looking down at your right leg, you hold back a groan as you see the pink flesh overlaid with a darker red that had soaked your black leggings. The wound had to be at least an inch deep.

You had attained it from skywalking with Four but tolerated it as you ran; you didn’t want to slow him down or alarm the rest of the team. Five already had to worry about Two and you’re not sure who else; comms had gone dark after both cars had lost their trails so communication wouldn’t be intercepted. Plus, you had decided to go out in the field with Four instead of hacking or driving, like your usual roles.

Big mistake, your throbbing gash reminds you. You shake your head to rid your vision of dark spots and wipe away the sweat on your forehead with the front of your cut out tank top.

Three brakes in front of the lime green car Six had chosen for the getaway. You quickly look around and smile at his choice of flashiness, getting out of the car cautiously as to not aggravate your wound more. Making sure you’re not limping, you ignore the pain and walk up to the hood of the black car. Resting your back on it and relieving your bad leg of any pressure, you make sure your gash is at an angle so nobody in front of you can see it. Everyone starts to get out of the luxury car rather quietly, causing you to arch an eyebrow and cross your arms. Shouldn’t we be celebrating? Whatever, everyone’s probably just tired. The other eyebrow goes up when you notice splatters of blood on the left side of One’s face. You scour his body for cuts, but don’t come across anything major.

Before you can say anything, Four comes up to you and mirrors your actions, leaning on the hood of the car. “You alright, love?” Your turn your head left to face him and just give him a smile and nod. Shit, he needed to stop calling you love. You had already fallen for him, which was against One’s rules. You understood why One didn’t want you guys getting personal with each other, but you couldn’t hold back your feelings; becoming best friends with Five and Six and crushing hard on Four.

At this rate, you would actually end up dead.

“You did really good today. You’re a natural; you should get out in the field more,” he tells you honestly.

You smile. “Thanks. I want to, but One made me a part of this team for you guys. You guys come first, then me. I do everything to make sure you guys successful. In fact, the only reason One let me be in the field with you is because this is our first mission. It’s why I’m called Zero,” you shrug.

He frowns, clearly not content with your answer. “To make sure we’re successful,” he corrects you, and you give him a sad smile. “You should come first.”

“But I don’t, and that’s okay.” I’m used to it. He sighs. Scanning the rest of the team in front of you, you notice that everyone’s out of the car besides Six. One, Two, and Five are shooting each other looks which you dismiss. “Six, we have to go,” you call out, craning your neck to see the driver’s seat. “One’s a billionaire, he can get you another one of these—” and then you see it.

The forks of a forklift are impaling Six in the neck and chest.

You furrow your brows, not processing what you’re seeing. “Six?” You ask, walking through the team over to the car. Your gash is the last thing on your mind, the first is what the hell happened to Six? You stop dead in your tracks a couple feet away from the car, eyes trailing down the skid marks the car had left. Suddenly, it clicks, and everything hits you at once. He made it here, but he didn’t see the forklift and couldn’t stop in time and— bam. He looked peaceful. Like he was sleeping. You try to imagine his last moments. Did he see it coming? Was he scared? Did it hurt?

Light footed steps come up behind you and you recognize them as Four’s. Everyone was dead silent. Nobody was closer to Six than you. Hell, most of the team thought you two were fucking until Two pointed out the way you looked at Four to Three and Five. Six was like the best friend you never had, and now he was… gone.

Your gash feels like it’s on fire, but you’re not going to make this about yourself. Six was dead. Actually dead. You watch, unable to move as Three gently removes Six from the car by putting it in reverse and One pulls out a body bag from the trunk. Your head pounds as Three gently lays him in the bag and One zips him up. For some reason, it makes you angry. The fact that One just had a body bag, like he was prepared for any of you guys to die at any time. But that’s it, you realize.

That’s what you signed up for.

“Zero,” Four starts, gently laying a hand on your shoulder. He hesitates but then grabs your shoulder, and you turn to see why he’d suddenly grabbed you. “Christ, you’re fucking freezing.” The mood in the air changes from somber to fearful as you feel the team’s gaze shift to you.

“Is she in shock?” Five asks, and you hear her heels start to click, coming towards you and Four. As if on cue, your right leg gives out and you grab Four for support; thankfully, due to his fast reflexes, he catches you right before you fall. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying your best to avoid screaming in pain.

“Zero, look at me. Look at me!” You open your eyes, and there’s something in those crystal green eyes you’ve never seen before. Fear.

“It’s not shock,” Five declares staidly and you groan, knowing she’s found the gash in your leg. “How long have you had this, Zero?”

“Had what?” The fear in Four’s voice hurts you more than your wound, if possible. He looks from you to Five to you again, then your leg. His jaw goes slack and you look down at your leg, noticing it’s gotten a lot worse than before. “What the fuck happened?” Shit, keep your voice down.

“I tripped,” you say sarcastically, but immediately wince afterwards. Four’s eyes soften, but you can’t tell if it’s because he’s scared or knows how much pain you’re in. You never showed pain. The fact that you even winced spoke more than a thousand words. He gently lies you down, sitting down and putting your head in his lap. “It was the rooftop you thought I wouldn’t make right after we got off the Duomo. I don’t know what the hell scratched me.”

“The Duomo? You’ve had this for fifteen fucking minutes and you didn’t bother tell me?” He yells, looking at your wound then you. You don’t know how to respond. Normally, you’d punch someone out for yelling at you, but you deserved this.

“It would’ve just slowed us down—”

“Is this the ‘you guys come first’ shit?!” You can’t find an answer that won’t make him mad, knowing in all ways the answer was “yes”.

“You call this a scratch?” Five asks you, genuinely annoyed and scared at the same time. You feel her gently try to pry it to see what’s going on and inhale sharply.

“Don’t you fucking dare die!” You hear One yell, and you roll your eyes.

“I don’t plan on it!” You yell back angrily, immediately regretting your decision to use that much energy.

Five sighs. “Whatever the thing was, it caught her deep. I don’t think it hit an artery, though. The bleeding hasn’t stopped, so I’m going to need stitch it up and give her a transfusion. I can’t do any of that right now, so we just have to—”

“—pack it because it won’t stop bleeding and get back on the plane as soon as we can,” you finish for her, seeing her nod. Your constant hanging out with Five had given you at least half her medical knowledge and you both hated and loved her for it.

“We have to dump Six first,” One adds, and you turn your head in his direction. “That was not the best way to word it—”

“Have some fucking respect,” you complain, wincing once again as Five tries to hold pressure.

“We have one other problem,” she starts, and you turn your head to look at her once again. “I don’t have any lap pads or morphine.” Oh fuck. “But I need to pack the laceration. Three, is there anything in the car?”

“Nothing,” he tells her, and you close your eyes, realizing you were in some deep shit. Five bites her lip, looking at you.

“So I’m either gonna pass out when you’re packing it or pass out in a couple of hours. I wish I was alive,” you moan, prompting a slight chuckle from the team.

“I’m going to have to clean it and pack it with gauze.” Your eyes widen and you prop your elbows on Four’s lap to look at her.

“What?” She shakes her head, trying to tell you she isn’t kidding. “Gauze won’t stop the bleeding if it hasn’t already stopped. And water won’t clean it out well enough, will it?”

“We’ll just have to hope for the best. God, I really wish you didn’t know this much about medicine.” She gives you a sad smile.

“Hydrogen peroxide,” you declare, knowing it was the only way to go.

“But that’s going to kill the good and the bad bacteria, not to mention maybe the tissue.” You strain your neck to look at Three, surprised. He casts a look around himself, seeing the confused faces of the team. “What? I’m not a total idiot.” You hold back a smile, removing your elbows from Four’s thighs and placing your head in his lap once again.

“I don’t know what she was cut by, and she’s been running around like an idiot for, what did you say, fifteen minutes?” She looks up at Four.

“Oh my god, please don’t bring him back into this—”

“Zero, just shut up, will you? Save your damn energy.” Well, he’s in his defensive stage now. You knew him too well. He’d panic, become defensive, then start to shut everyone out. One brings over her bag and sets it down on her left, giving you a look that was a mix of sympathy and annoyance. Maybe a hint of fear. You were the first member One had ever recruited, so it was natural that you two were close. After dying, he coped with his emotions by putting up a front and deflecting with cold sarcasm, something you’d learned to not take personally and see through. The others would in due time as well.

“Can we do this in the car? Backup’s probably three minutes away—” One stops talking as soon as he receives a hard look from Five. “Just don’t kill her.”

“She’ll be out by then. My guess is she’s trying to stay awake,” Five tries to lighten the mood, and you cock an eyebrow. She shrugs and rummages through her bag, pulling out gauze and the maroon bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide you oh so hated. You close your eyes, trying to get your shit together before you had to deal with more pain. “Do you want me to tell you when?” She asks sincerely, and your stomach flips like crazy. You could handle most types of pain, but hydrogen peroxide on an open wound? Fuck that.

“No. Just do it.” In an instant, your gash feels like it’s on fire, and you gasp. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You throw your head against Four’s lap, biting your lip so hard you can feel the skin break. You can barely breathe, mind completely focused on your throbbing leg.

“I thought you said she’d be out!” You can only imagine the look on Four’s face.

“I didn’t know she had this much tolerance! I’m giving her another round!” Your stomach drops, not wanting to go through that again. You try to protest her decision but no words form; your brain is too focused on your burning leg.

“Zero, you’ll be okay. I promise.” Four’s voice soothes you, but it can’t stop the agony you’re in. The last thing you feel is a light stinging before you go senseless.

Masterlist

All taglists are open! Send me an ask or a message :)

Permanent: @becausewhyknotme, @criminal-cookies, @theladyoffangorn, @officialtonystarkprotectionsquad, @justmebeingtheweirdmeiam, @agentpeggybarnes

#four x reader #four x you #four x y/n #billy x reader #billy x you #billy x y/n #six underground x you #six underground x reader #six underground x y/n #six underground fic #six underground imagine #my writing

61 notes · View notes

ejzah · 4 years

Text

A/N: Part six. I’m glad you’re enjoying the ridiculousness. I think Kensi and Deeks are too.

***

The Agent and the Lawyer, Part 6

“I don’t know why you always insist on driving,” Kensi complained, walking into the mission with Sam and Callen. It was a discussion , carried over from the day before when Kensi had been cramped in the back seat, if you could call it that, of the Challenger once again.

“I just got the Challenger detailed,” Sam explained dismissively.

“You always say that.”

“That’s because I take very good care of my vehicles.”

“Yeah, it’s a little weird,” Callen commented, receiving a glare from his partner. “What, it is!”

“The point is, you get yourself a partner, then you can drive whenever you want,” Sam told Kensi as they rounded the corner into the bullpen. Kensi raised a finger, not about to be blamed for the string of short-lives partners she’d had in the past year.

“It’s not my fault that none of the guys Hetty sends me work out. They just can’t take a-Deeks, what are you doing here?”

He was lounging in “his” seat, looking greatly amused.

“I thought you already gave Hetty your statement last week,” Callen added suspiciously.

“I did, but she called me this morning, at 6AM might I add, and said she needed to speak with me. Urgently.

“Why?” Kensi asked. His face still bore faint bruises from his encounter with Davies, but overall he looked good. More than he had any right to.

“I have no idea. She just said she needed to talk to me about something,” he explained, shrugging. “Actually, I’m supposed to be in court right now, but Hetty called the judge and got the hearing pushed back. And Judge Dansit doesn’t do favors for anyone.” He shook his head. “She’s a little terrifying.”

“Well, you must’ve gotten something wrong in your report,” Sam said, eyeing Deeks distastefully.

“I’m a lawyer, Agent Hanna,” Deeks said and Kensi noticed the pointed use of Sam’s title. “we live in the details. We’re the guys who make sure your cases are by the book. I didn’t make a mistake.”

Sam seemed surprised by Deeks’ adamant, no none sense response. Callen looked between them, apparently reluctant to interrupt their stare off.

“Alright then, well I’ll let Hetty know you’re here,” he said. Deeks held up a lazy hand.

“She already knows. I ran into Eric on the way in-which remind me, you guys could probably do with some better security-and he let her know. Apparently she’s in a meeting with some senator.” He managed to rattle off without taking a breath. Kensi was mildly impressed. Sam just looked annoyed again.

He smirked at Kensi and she folded her arms over her chest, silently going to her desk. Now that her initial reaction to seeing him had subsided some, she’d remembered how things had ended the other night.

“I’m going to the gym,” she announced, abruptly standing back up, enjoying the way Deeks’ expression fell before she turned away.

***

“Oh man, I don’t know what you did, but you are in trouble,” Sam said, chuckling to himself. Deeks frowned and gestured down the hall to where Kensi had disappeared.

“You mean-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t do anything to Kensi,” he insisted. It wasn’t strictly the truth, but it was close enough. Sam and Callen didn’t need to know what had occurred between them in his kitchen.

“Uh-huh, then why is she so pissed at you?”

“Whatever it is, I suggest you invest in a lot of chocolate,” Callen said distractedly as he searched for something on his desk. He glanced up at Deeks and added, “And maybe a bullet proof vest.”

“This is ridiculous,” Deeks said, standing up. “I’ll just go talk with her.”

“It’s been nice knowing you, Deeks.” He ignored them, heading in the direction Kensi had gone. After wandering a little bit, he found the gym. Surprisingly, no one stopped him along the way.

Kensi was beating the crap out of a practice dummy, her fists and feet making sharp noises with each impact. For a second he wondered if he should wait until she was less likely to kick him. Then he pulled in a deep breath and walked to the center of the room.

He watched her for another minute, impressed with her level of skill.

“If that guy was real, I think he’d be dead by now,” Deeks commented. He saw Kensi’s shoulder jerk before she froze, her gloved hands clenching into fists.

“I came here to be alone,” she said shortly, her gaze focused downward. Deeks shrugged, even though she couldn’t see him.

“I know.”

“Yet you followed me anyway.” She resumed punching the dummy, even more aggressively than before.

“You wanna tell me why you’re so angry with me?” he asked and she let out an incredulous chuckle, finally spinning around. She was wearing a bright blue sports bra and workout pants. With considerable effort, he pulled his gaze away from her golden skin.

“If you don’t know, then we don’t need to have this conversation,” she said, shaking her head. She seemed disappointed, more than he would have expected given that they’d met less than two weeks ago.

“If this is about me almost kissing you-“

“Of course it is, you idiot!” She made a frustrated noise and in a movement so quick her arm was a blur, she punched him.

“Ow!” Deeks yelped, surprised for a moment. “That’s gonna bruise.”

“Good,” Kensi said, crossing her arms over her chest with a satisfied smirk.

“Geez, I didn’t think you get this mad about me almost kissing you,” he said and Kensi shook her head, stalking closer to him.

“First of all, I’m not mad, I’m angry. Secondly, I’m angry at you for stopping.” Deeks paused for a moment, stunned into silence. Then he grinned.

“Really?” Kensi rolled her eyes in disgust. “So, what you’re saying is that you wanted me to kiss you?”

“That is not what I said at all,” she protested, flushing a little. Deeks stepped even closer and watched her swallow harshly.

“Liar. You totally want me to kiss you. In fact, I would argue, that right now, you’re wondering what it would be like to kiss me,” he goaded her, delighted at the furious expression it produced. For a second he thought she was going to hit him again, but she ended up placing her fists on her hips.

“Fight me for it.” He frowned, completely thrown off track.

“What?”

“If you want a kiss, fight me,” she clarified, jutting her chin at him. “If you win, I’ll kiss you. If you lose...” she grinned. “Well, I’ll have to think about what you owe me.”

“I’m not exactly dressed for a sparring match,” he pointed out, gesturing to his jeans and t-shirt. Kensi rolled her eyes again.

“If I can take down a two hundred pound body guard while I’m wearing heels and a miniskirt, then I think you’ll be fine. Or maybe you think you can’t handle it.”

“Oh, I can definitely handle it.” He reached into his pocket and removed his phone, keys, and wallet, tossing them on a foam mat to the side. “Do your worst.” He spread his arms wide.

Kensi narrowed her eyes, lifting her hands to chest level and adopting a fighting pose. In the back of his mind, he remembered his still tender ribs. The inevitable pain was worth it, he decided. Plus, he wasn’t about to back down from a challenge issued by Special Agent Kensi Blye.

“You are so dead.” He just barely evaded her first kick, jumping back quickly and edging around her in a circle. Kensi charged him, ramming him hard enough with her upper body to move him back several feet.

Grasping her shoulder, he flipped her onto her back. Kensi stared up at him for a moment in apparent astonishment and he nodded, feeling pretty pleased with himself.

“I taught self defense classes in college,” he informed her with a grin. Kensi glared at him, suddenly kicking out and swiping his legs out from underneath him. As he fell, she flipped him onto his back and growled,

“And I have a black belt in karate.” She tried do hold him down with her knee, but he reared up, dislodging her. They each gained and lost control several more times; Kensi definitely had an edge on him skill wise, but he was able to use his size and weight to his advantage.

Kensi also played a lot dirtier than he did. She has zero compulsion about hitting him anywhere she could reach while he tried more evasive tactics.

“Is that all you got, Blye?” he panted. She growled again, running at him and wrapped her legs around his upper body. He lost his balance and as he fell to the ground, she clamped his head in between her thighs.

“Um, is this a bad time to interrupt?” A hesitant voice asked. Deeks craned his head, which was fairly painful in his current position, and found Eric Beale looking down at them with a vaguely disturbed expression.

“Nope,” Kensi told him, releasing her hold on Deeks. “You came just in time.” She ruffled his hair obnoxiously and then whispered, “I win.”

“I can come back later.” Deeks had a feeling Eric would love any reason to escape right now. “You’re good, Eric.” She jumped to her feet and offered Deeks a hand. He took it and pulled himself to his feet with a groan. He was definitely gonna have bruises tomorrow.

“That was pretty impressive,” Deeks said, still breathing heavily.

“Did I forget to mention I’m pretty much versed in all mixed martial arts?” she asked, grinning.

“It’s ok, I’ll just know better for next time.” She laughed. Actually it was more of a terrifying cackle and he stared at her in alarm.

“Oh my god, that is hilarious.” She patted him on the shoulder condescendingly. “You will never beat me,” she leaned in closer, “so I guess you’ll just have to win your prize some other way.”

As she walked out of the gym, Eric turned to Deeks.

“What was-never mind, I don’t want to know.�� He put up a hand before Deeks could respond to his half asked question. “Hetty’s waiting.”

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #sam hanna #g callen #eric beale #au #future densi #the agent and the lawyer #part 6 #ejzah fanfiction

18 notes · View notes

angelkurenai · 5 years

Text

Hurricane - Dean Winchester x Reader (Detective AU) - Part 14

Title: Hurricane

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word count: 5,484

Warnings: None

Summary: With one of the most dangerous serial killers on the loose and in your tracks you have no choice but to rely on the help of the police to ansure your safety. It doesn’t hurt that the detective in charge is the one of the most skilled there is and probably, well, definitely the most charming one you have ever seen. Or that his flirting with you takes your mind off the danger waiting for you right around the corner. & Based on: Imagine detective Dean Winchester flirting with you while working on your case.

Read Part 1 here! l Read Part 2 here! l Read Part 3 here! l Read Part 4 here! l Read Part 5 here! l Read Part 6 here! l Read Part 7 here! l Read Part 8 here! l Read Part 9 here! l Read Part 10 here! l Read Part 11 here! l Read Part 12 here! l Read Part 13 here!

“Look, Dean.” and he didn't need to say it twice because once both Winchesters were looking at him, they didn't wait a second before met him halfway. Or at least Dean didn't.

Sam's eyes widened albeit not so much in surprise when the first thing Dean did, when he was close enough to the third man, was to punch him square in the jaw, making him stumble back even less in shock than Sam himself. He tried to stop him but he was too fast to grab him by the shirt and pin him against the nearest wall, growling straight in his face “You son of a bitch.”

“I wouldn't know. I don't remember or even think I met my mother.” came, despite everything, a very calm reply. His face was nearly blank, showing no emotion. Dean's only reaction was to push the man harder against the wall and glare daggers at him.

“You think I'm here for a friendly chat?” Dean ignored his brother trying to pull him away “She's gone!” this time he roared his tone probably as dangerous as the previously low one “(Y/n) is gone and Amara has her! You hear me? Your sister has taken her hostage and it's all your fault!”

“Easier to blame somebody else for your mistakes, detective. Where were you when she took her though? Why had you left her alone in the first place? And better yet what would you have done if you were there? Or would you have let Amara take her anyway? Because something tells me that and much more already. Don't confuse me with-” but the words died out in Chuck's lips when Dean's fist slammed on the door that was right next to Chuck's head.

“Shut up.” he meant to say it full of anger but it came out weak. Letting go of the blue-eyed man he ran a shaky hand down his face before looking back at him “She could be dead by now. Dead. Amara could have put a bullet through her head and be toying with us and you- you're so fucking calm about it? You- you were supposed to care for her! You told her you loved her, is this how you show it to her? By leaving her to die at the hands of your own sister who cares about nothing else but to see you pay for what you did to her? By letting her, letting (Y/n) die too instead of facing your own sister?”

“Don't!” his voice raised, the sheer anger, seriousness and authority in his voice making them stiffen up. He let out a breath and seemed to collect himself “She wouldn't kill her, not to mention with a gun, it's not like her to. Besides she knows that this is her only chance at me showing up. She knows how important (Y/n) is to me and she wouldn't risk it like that.” he still ignored the way Dean rolled his eyes in frustration.

“We-” Sam took a step forward this time “We understand and we want to believe that Chuck but (Y/n)'s- she our friend, our family, which makes this more dangerous and scary than usual. It- it would help if you... worked with us on this and helped us?”

“Help.” Dean scoffed a humorless laugh “He won't just help. He's going to fix this, now!”

“And I will, yes.” Chuck nodded his head “As I was about to say about Amara: Her goal is not revenge, not directly at least, she wants me to apologize first by whatever means necessary. She won't harm (Y/n). And even if she goes for it... (Y/n) is prepared for all of it. She has been from the beginning.”

The words made both Sam and Dean's attention fall on him. They shared a look before Dean suspiciously asked “What are you talking about?”

“Not here.”

~*~

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” Sam didn't even flinch this time at Dean's yelling. He saw that one coming and frankly he was on the verge of yelling too.

“No, if anything I would say that's my sister.” Chuck, only able to irritate Dean more, stayed far too calm for their liking “You have to accept that this is the only way. Amara was in town only a coupe hours after you showed up, and you didn't even realize it until now. But I did. And so I was prepared. She was going to take (Y/n) and we both know you wouldn't have been able to do much if not get her hurt in the process of protecting her. There was no other choice.”

“No other choice to make sure she'd be safe but let her get captured, of course. Am I the only one that thinks something is totally wrong with this?” Dean said exasperated rubbing his temple.

“I told you it is part of the plan. She didn't get captured. Amara might think she has her but (Y/n) was prepared for everything and that's why she's not in danger. A plan you wil have to listen to if you want my sister to return to her previous place and the woman you love to be safe in her own home soon too.” Chuck said in all seriousness, eyes locking with the detective's.

Dean kept a clenched jaw, body tense and straight before he huffed “You better be fucking right about this. Because if anything happens to her...” he shook his head.

“It won't. I know my sister, better than she thinks. So well that I can already tell where she is. All you have to do is help me through so that we can capture her again. And this time nobody will be freeing her.”

“Alright.” Dean sucked in a deep breath “We're listening.”

~*~

“Still giving me the cold shoulder?” the moment she walked in you felt your entire body tense up once more. Not that she had been gone for long but you had really lost track of time inside this place that you had almost no idea where it was to begin with. Key word: almost.

You were thankful she had not knocked you out but only tossed you in the back of a van where you couldn't see your destination but could clearly make out any sound around you or bump along the road. Plus, there was a distinct feeling setting in the pit of your stomach that you easily recognized. With all the cameras around you in one single room, monitoring whoever was inside – and in this case it was you – like some lab rat, a simple bed and toilet inside the grey room with three walls while the fourth was a thick glass standing between the room and two doors that you already knew were those of an elevator. An entire floor for whoever was inside this room meant that it was only viewed as one way: a highly dangerous prisoner inside a highly secure cell. Or highly secure for any other prisoner but her.

“Fine, have it your way. I only brought you here so that you could feel more comfortable.” she walked around the place, setting down the things she had brought with her.

You stared at her carefully, waiting for the moment she was going to turn her back to you before you pushed the boby-pinyou'd held in your mouth the whole time out in your hands before hiding it underneath the pillow on the bed. With all those cameras around you were sure that the only time she wouldn't see was when she was in the same room as you.

“Yeah, really cozy. Is the color on the walls your personal choice?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Oh so she speaks!” she stopped, turning to look at you “I was beginning to think you were mad at me with all the silence.”

“Mad? Who me? No! Never. I wonder why would be?” you said sarcastically making her scoff a laugh that deep down scared you to the bone but you weren't going to show it to her. After everything you'd found out and after everything you'd been through, you refused to let any encounter with her – no matter how many there were to come – intimidate you or affect your life anymore.

“Ah so I see, you have quiet the mouth there now, don't you? I like the newfound sass. It's better this way, I haven't gotten to know you that well and I'm both happy and sad this is the first and last time I do.” she was calm in a way that could only scare you more but you held your ground.

“I do.” you straightened your back, even though you were the one handcuffed “Might be because of Dean. You were right, he's quiet the good kisser. And I certainly don't mean just the lips. But wait- you didn't get to experience that, did you? No, no you di-” but the words were cut off by a choking sound when she took hold of your face in one hand in a grip so tight it could easily leave a bruise or two.

“Say that again?” her voice was dangerously low and it made you let out a shaky breath of fear.

But after a few seconds you decided to hold your ground “Just saying, I've gotten to spend a lot of time alone with Dean lately. Would you think getting intimate was not in the cards?”

“Why, did you? Because you haven't, not really. You can't have him, you really don't even now. He knows where he belongs and with whom and what you might think is merely mind control is truly unlocking ones deepest and darkest desire. And I am his.”

“Only when you're present though, isn't that it? He's told me so, it's only when you're there that he can't control even his own body at will. And he wants to. So I wonder in what way is that not mind control? I know how skilled you are and Dean... has been honest with me about everything. When you're away it's like you don't exist.”

She scoffed another laugh, this time letting go of you and shaking her head “Foolish thoughts. I shouldn't expect anything more. And do you think you exist for him when you're away? He's far- far too good for you, I'm sure you must see it, why do you still keep fighting for something you can't have? It's all people do, I've seen it, and it confuses me... why do you keep struggling when all it brings is pain?”

“You seem to forget you're human too, Amara.” you almost whispered before shaking your head and looking away, back ever straight “It's because I already have it. Part of his heart at least I know I do and that is good enough for me. So no I'm not fighting anymore. It's you that's fighting.” you looked her straight in the eyes, considering her for the first time as not the woman who wanted to kill you – although you still had it in the back of your mind and because of Chuck's words managed to keep it there and not let it along with fear take over – but as the sister of someone you knew and that was less scary.

“He's not yours, no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise. And when tonight you see him walk through those doors and ends up shooting you instead of me you will see it yourself.” the calm tone in her voice made your heart pound in your chest “He can't fight it. He can't fight me.”

“Give him some credit, he's so much more than just a pretty face. And I know that you know that too... but I know it a lot better. The kind of heart... the kind of strength that man has will surprise you. We'll see who will take that bullet.” you didn't know if you believed the words yourself or not. Despite everything that had happened in the past couple of hours, despite Chuck's words and everything you'd said, you feared deep down that the answer to that ast sentence was not going to be what you hoped for.

“So much... faith. It's almost admirable. You could use some of it now, I suppose.”

“Or maybe it's not faith at all. Ever heard of love?” you noticed the way her jumped away from you and the way a wave of sadness washed over he features as she looked at the room and that was the confirmation you needed. So you kept going “Maybe you wanted to believe so. Wanted to forget what I am to Dean and what he is to me. Or maybe you wouldn't believe something like that is possible considering the only time you kissed him... you were simply controlling him. I for one may not be able to do any of the reprogramming as you do but I surely didn't need it. Neither for Dean who willingly wants my love-” it was somewhat as a surprise to say it out loud because it felt like despite his lies, you still did love him “Nor... your brother.”

No sooner had the words left your lips that you felt the hands wrap around your neck and your entire body being pined to the cold and hard floor. Your eyes widened when you felt your breath get caught in your throat quiet literally. You grasp at her hands and tried to push her off, fight her back but the look on her face, dangerous and so scary but yet almost emotionless as if she was an entirely different person at the mention of her brother.

“You don't know him, you don't know anything about him. You don't know even half of the things my brother really is, but you might, soon. If you live long enough to. Will you live long enough? Will there be something there to see it even if this vessel is no longer functioning? What will happen to your soul then?”

“Am- Amara- St- stop. S-stop!” but your hoarse and barely audible words didn't have any effect on her so instead you did the best logical thing of kneeing her in the stomach and elbowing her in the face. The second her hands were off you, you gasped loudly, feeling your burning lungs with fresh air. You coughed, blinking away your tears and only a few seconds later you crawled away from her, not that she advanced.

“Quiet the fighter... Now I see why they both liked in you so much.” she said instead “They're much more alike than I originally thought after all. Shame- Such a shame this will hurt them so much both. Dean doesn't deserve it, not as much as him. I have killed many, many more before you and he hasn't shown up but this time... Oh this time he will.” she only ended up smiling widely as if she had finally gotten what she wanted, or at least was about to “And he will feel it all.”

“You seem to have a lot of faith in him after all.” you said instead, watching her get up “That he'll show up for me I mean.” but you got no answer, even if you knew it was positive in both cases. So instead you added “He's your brother, no matter what he has done to you... he loves you. You must see it too. He-”

“Spare me. This is between him and I. You are only a means to an end, that's all. And don't think for a moment that I don't know what's going on.” her words made you tense up “That he is looking for me. In fact I know exactly where he is right now and it's where I want him to be.”

“I- I don't know what you're talking about.” you pursed your lips, shaking your head instead. You only got a scoff in return but as she made her way to the door you asked her “Feel it all... what did you mean?”

“All. In the same place I did. As I did, because of him. And maybe then... he'll be able to give me an apology at last.” and with that, she was out of the only door in one of the three walls of the room.

“Same place...” you sighed, nodding your head as you looked around “Her cell.”

~*~

“An old warehouse? This is where you think she'll have her? You clearly have lost your mind more than I thought, Shurley.” Dean could barely hold back a scowl as they exited the Impala. Darkness had settled for good around them but the place was clear as day to him because of how on edge he was.

“Same could be said about you. Because you obviously can't see where we're at.”

“Yeah, I see. And a half-burned-down house too. Because that's the most safe place to-” but he stopped abruptly when realization set down on him “Your old house, isn't it?”

“If there is somewhere she'd want us to be... then it's this place. Come on.” he didn't need to say it twice before the entire team followed after him, Dean actually getting to take a few steps ahead. Too impatient and too worried at the same time. It didn't take much effort for him to break and push through the already half-broken and very old door.

“I didn't take it to be this big.” Castiel mumbled, looking around as they all got their guns and flashlights out “Or to have a graveyard.”

“After the fire many houses were abandoned around here and the place was used for other purposes.”

“Well, that's freaking peachy. But I don't think any of us plan on being buried here, even more so (Y/n), so we stick to the plan. But before the attack we need to split up and look around here in case of a trap which is the most likely situation. We stick to our teams. C goes in that direction, D the other and as for B you come with us and we're going inside the house right away. Eyes up, stay sharp. Let's go.” Dean got sharp nods from everyone before they all moved in the respective directions.

They didn't get to go very far away though because, despite how much in a hurry Dean was, his brother's voice caught his attention “Uhm Dean, w-wait a minute-” the older Winchester turned just in time to see him take something from Jack's hands “Did you even see this? It was- it was right by the entrance, on the door.” he said a bit out of breath, almost as if holding his breath out of fear “From Amara.”

“What?” Dean was suddenly even more on edge than before, if possible “Let me see.” he took hold of the letter and read it “You think I'll give her up that easily? No, we have to find something that can equal to all those years of torment spent in a cell. You soon will be in graveyard with all the people whose blood is on my brother's hands, except one. Amongst the vessels there is one that still holds a soul. How fast can you find her before her human body gives out and runs out of air? Here lies... what was she to you Dean?”

“Could- could she be toying with us?” Sam blinked, looking at Chuck whose look had darkened a lot.

“She could... and she could not.” he said in a grave voice.

“Well, she definitely knows we're here. That- that isn't a good sign, is it? How can she know we're here?” Jack asked in a low and worried voice being met with only equally worried faces.

“We don't know but no, it certainly is no good. We're not a step ahead as we thought. She can play us.”

“Son of a bitch.” Dean cursed in a dangerously low voice as he breathed heavily.

“But we can't risk it.” Chuck added, glancing at him before meeting Sam's wide eyes again.

“And we're not going to.” Dean grumbled, crumbling the paper in his hands “Search the graveyard. If she- if she has her there then we don't have much time, she'll run out of air.”

“B-but what if she's doing this to waste our time? Wh-what if-” Sam started tentatively but Dean was already fuming, angry and not only with the serial killer but even more himself.

“I said search the graveyard, Amara has buried her alive and is doing this to torment us. There is no time. Split up, check all the tombstones. Hurry up, we have to find her now!”

~*~

“No” Dean groaned in desperation, shaking his head “No, no no. It's- it's not. Fuck it's not any of these.” he looked away, and then all around him, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. Both the scenery and action made him feel dizzy.

“Dean” Castiel said as calmly as he could, although out of breath because of all the running around and the green-eyed man looked at him, not bothering to hide all the pain and fear he felt that moment “We wil find her. We will.” it wasn't much because they didn't have time for more but it was some sort of reassurance. Even though in the end it didn't manage to do anything.

Dean closed his eyes and held his trembling lower lip between his teeth. Pursing his lips he nodded his head, acknowledging his friend, but as soon as they parted for him to speak someone else beat him at it-

“I found something!” Jack said loud enough for them to hear but still low enough to not draw any attention. Not that there was any element of surprise left anymore.

It didn't take more than half a second for Dean's eyes to widen and him to jump into action and run towards the younger man's direction as did everybody else. Only everybody froze in their place when they looked at the tombstone, and even more so Dean. His breath got caught in his throat and he felt sick to the stomach. He pressed a hand over his mouth and looked away, closing his eyes tightly shut and trying to suppress a sob but even more push the image out of his mind. It would forever be imprinted in his mind, though. A tombstone with your name on it.

“This has to be it right?” Sam asked although he didn't really expect an answer “I don't hear any sounds.”

“Maybe she's knocked her out o-or maybe-” Jack started but stopped himself when Dean's eyes snapped wide open. He couldn't even bear to hear it.

“We can't waste any more time. We need to start digging. Come on, we have the equipment in the car.” Dean being unable to stand the sight of the grave and stand in his place was the first one to start running towards the Impala with Sam and Cas following right behind and Chuck left to narrow his eyes at the gave.

Only one thought was present in his mind and it was verified no more than a couple minutes later. What with Dean frantically and desperately digging through the grave and everyone helping as urgently as possible it didn't take long for them to bring the casket up to the top and nobody wasted another second before tearing it open. A trembling breath escaped Dean's lips as he stared at the empty space. Empty save for the post-it inside it. The kind that you insisted he used more often even though you knew they would drive him insane.

“See? Running out of breath doesn't require being buried underground. How fast did you lose your breath out of fear, detective? Let's see what it takes to lose your mind too, the way everyone says I have. Good luck.” Dean read it, scoffing a laugh “She's playing with us, that's what she's doing.”

“Or she wants us to feel her pain.” Chuck looked at the man, the same thing going through their minds “And definitely lose time.”

They all looked at the immense albeit half burned to the ground house not so far away “Let's go.”

~*~

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.” her voice broke through the silence no sooner than she had left you on your own. Or it seemed like that. For some inexplicable reason though it felt like an eternity had passed at the same time so maybe the truth lay somewhere in between.

You were laying with your back on the wall after a good few hours of pacing around and trying to figure out everything you could about an escape and where this place really was. Based on what Chuck had told you about the entire plan and what he expected from Amara, this didn't look like their old burned down house. The fact alone easily meant that not everything was really going according to plan. But that didn't mean you were going to wait like some damsel in distress for them to figure everything out and save you. You were going to save yourself through them.

“I'm not sleeping.” you said, carefully taking hold of the bobby pin and slipping it into your fist. As expected only seconds later you felt her grip on your arm and your entire body being yanked off the bed. You stumbled a bit but when you were back on your feet with both your hands still in fists you took notice not only of the chair but also computer and camera standing right in front of it. You decide to not let your eyes linger on the gun you notice on her other hand.

“All the better. Now sit.”

You took a deep breath, doing as told nonetheless, hands on your lap “What is that all for?”

“We're going to give your lovely detective a message.” she moved to the computer “Maybe, after he really gets a taste of what fear and desperation feels like, he'll get to more drastic measures of finding my brother for me and get him out for me. Maybe, even, Chuck will get to see it and stop hiding.”

“Gotta say, you have a weird way of showing you care to your loved ones. Given that is your brother and the man you say you want, so forgive me if I'm a bit confused here.”

“It was the only way I was taught love.” her eyes bore into yours “What would you do if your brother locked you up like some kind of animal?”

“Start wondering why he locked me up in the first place?”

“Hm” she only hummed, pausing for a few seconds before she smirked back again at you “Buying time won't get you anywhere, you know it. They can't find you here, there's no way. Safest and at the same time most dangerous place in the world. This-” she pressed something on the camera “Will be a way to communicate. So we can agree on where my beloved brother will meet us. That is if he shows up. You know what you have to do.” a short nod of her head and you took in a shaky breath, preparing yourself.

~*~

“Dean watch out!” it didn't take a second warning before Dean was turning just in time to shoot at the man who was charging straight at him. And hopefully the last one.

The detective managed to get on his feet, panting and groaning as nearly every part of his body ached. Parts like his shoulder which would have been likely dislocated from all the banging on the the door to try and get it open – too desperate, hearing the muffled screaming and crying on the other side to think rationally – all the way to his throat where he had not stopped screaming your name and for you to hold on. If it had not been for all the brainwashed idiots doing what they could to fight them and even kill them then he would have gotten to you sooner but when could he have things go his way anyway? At least he had managed to break it open n the end.

“Come on.” he said in a gruff voice, hand pressed on his side and he nearly stumbled as he rushed to get inside the room; before Sam or anyone had the chance to help him with his wounds or to warn him about this being yet another trap or worse, Amara being there.

“It's ok sweetheart I'm here.” he said in a husky voice, rushing to get to the ropes around the wrists and legs that held you bound down to your chair “Sam help me!” he said but didn't even look over his shoulder, eyes trained on your shaking form as your sobs filled his ears “Easy, easy. I got you. I'm here, sweetheart, I got-”

But the words got stuck in his throat when he looked up to remove the cloth around your mouth and saw that it was simply not you. “Wh-wha-” he started but couldn't form the words. His entire body felt numb.

“Wh-what's wrong?” Jack mumbled only to step closer and notice the same thing “It's not (Y/n).”

“Help me, please help me.” she cried “A woman tied me up in here, she-”

“It's ok, it's ok.” but it wasn't Dean because his voice was still stuck in his throat just as all the air in his lungs “We're going to help you, they are all agents. Good ones. You don't have to worry anym-” but his words too stopped when he saw the tablet on her lap and he shared a look with his brother “Cas come help here. Quick. We've... got something.”

“She- she said she has a message for you. She said that if her brother doesn't show up then... then she will be in my place and it will only get worse. I- I don't know who she was talking about, I-”

“It's alright, it's alright. We've got everything under control. We-” Sam huffed, watching his brother snatch the tablet and walk away to let the message play without paying attention to anything around him.

“Dean” the second your voice was heard, it caught their attention “This is...most probably not the way you were expecting to see me but if it's any comfort, it's not how I expected it would turn out to be either. You know-” a shaky sigh came as you looked down “Who has me here. I'm- I'm alright, she hasn't hurt me, for now. Amara knows we were looking for Chuck because he was in town and she wants him to show up. If he doesn't, then-” the level of self-control and strength you showed so far, especially given the sort of panic attacks you've had concerning her. But when a gun pressed to your temple and he nearly lost his mind, it was no surprise when the real fear flashed through your eyes.

“Things will get much worse. I won't be in her place... I will be in a much worse one and you will be... adding another victim to the list. This tablet is your means of- of keeping in contact with her, she will reach out when she wants to. You won't be able to trace back the signal so- so don't bother. The fast Chuck shows up, the more chances I have. She says... Don't try to fight her, otherwise...” you trailed off, glancing at her before looking back at them “She'll send me to one of those places that officially doesn't exist... according to you. You see I uh I know you always have a unique way of referringto heaven and hell and I suppose at this point, with a gun over my head, I can understand it. I am in one of those places that officially doesn't exist. Hell, of course. But I have enough faith in you that you will manage to pull me out of it before-”

“Alright, that will be enough.” it was another voice, one that made Dean's skin crawl “My turn and I will be more quick-” a long pause “I can't wait to see you, Dean. I trust that you will not fail me.”

It all ended before he had the chance to do anything. What could he do though? Nothing but-

“One of those places that officially doesn't exist? Was that- was she trying to say something?” Jack asked in a low voice and Dean looked up, glancing at Chuck.

“Yes, yes she was.” Chuck was the one to reply. Nodding his head.

Dean couldn't control his erratic heart, nodding his own head “We know where to find her.”

~~~

A/N: Oh gosh one more chapter and the series will be over, I feel like I’m gonna cry! I swear I remember writing the story two years ago while first getting into uni and now here we are! Anyway, as always feedback is welcomed!

@getlostinthedark @cap-just-said-language @catwithyellowwings @word-scribbless @carryon-doctor-lock @nightriver99 @timelady1140 @spideyxstan @agentstarkid @all-will-be-well-love @simpleboox @jaylarkson @cookiechipdough @alltimekp @a-dorky-book-keeper @givemebooksorgivemedeath @skeletoresinthebasement @sammy201d @akshi8278 @amandamdiehl @hobby27 @deans-baby-momma @musiclover1263 @feelmyroarrrr @sofreddie @skymoonandstardust @babygabrielle-blog @woodworthti666 @gunpowder-and-smoke-inofficial @erule @lizwinchester16 @itslunabitches @itsquies @justkending @fiftyshadesofrebel @love-my-not-natural-babies @outsider-underwater @kaylinfayezink @x-waywardaf-x @keshaia @moonlight-on-her-skin @happy-little-winchester

#supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural one shot #supernatural x reader #dean #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean imagine #dean winchester imagine #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean one shot #dean winchester one shot

135 notes · View notes

ais-n · 4 years

Note

Pt1. So this might be totally random and maybe even a little bit weird or out of place, but I’ve been thinking about this for a while and may I just say I am proud? Happy? For the way you’ve handles the whole situation and how you still are. Like I don’t wanna sound like I’m putting others down but I can think of a handful of authors who if in your place would be less mature about the whole ordeal. I know thats random but it just made me happy and really proud to look up to you.

Pt 2 Like I know what they did was horrible, but something that really stuck out to me in your statement was your kindness to even offer help to “them” if they wanted to make things right. And I’m not saying that’s always the answer but I feel like that kind of approach with the whole situation was possibly the one with the most effect if “they” should’ve messaged.

Pt 3 I know you’re probs tired of having the whole thing brought up, but yeah thanks for being so mature and as level headed as you can be about something like what happened. (Sorry for this long random weird ask)

+ + +

I combined these into one, I hope you don’t mind! Also, jeez I’m so sorry, I have no idea how long ago you sent this. I didn’t mean to be an asshole and not reply sooner T_T I honestly don’t get how I have such a hell of a time seeing ask notifications on tumblr anymore. I swear I used to see them so much easier. Maybe it’s just that I went so long not getting asks I don’t expect them...

Anyway -

Not a long, random, weird ask, don’t worry! And even if it were, lol, you’re talking to the queen of long, random, weird posts - so it would fit right in regardless ;)

I don’t mind you bringing it up; it’s sort of impossible not to when a person is talking about ICoS. Plus, as bizarre as it continues to be to me that anything like this actually happened in my life, it’s still a part of my life so it would be silly to pretend it wasn’t or to try ignoring it all now. That seems like it wouldn’t help me or anyone at all, really.

I still feel so bad about everything, though. It just makes me feel so sad all around. I feel bad for “them” because I feel like something really has to have been difficult or complicated in their lives for them to do what they did, so consistently, for so long. I worry about their mental health, about them getting help, about their stability. And I feel so bad for everyone who was hurt in the process of it all - all the people who were innocent bystanders who became collateral damage; all the people who were excited about something and reached out and just wanted to make a connection, and in the process felt devastated or traumatized in the long run by what they found.

It’s so damn sad. So many people hurting others and being hurt for what feels like no good reason. I wish there had been a way to stop it all from happening, or end it sooner, or I don’t know, just - help.

I had a lot of mixed emotions initially when it all came out but as time has passed, when I think back, the primary emotion I feel is sad. Especially because, in addition to everything else, their actions ended up casting a pall on the series, and that’s really sad to me too because there are people who felt a real connection through the story - be it the characters or the people they met in the community - and now I worry for those people feeling like they have to question or judge themselves, or even distance themselves, from something that they felt was helpful at the time but now they wonder if they were wrong.

I don’t think anyone who felt a connection to ICoS was wrong to feel that way, regardless of what “Sonny” ended up being/doing in the end. Stories speak to us for different reasons, and I tend to be of the opinion that the writer of a story isn’t the god of that story. A story or characters can still have genuinely good impact on a person regardless of if the writer is terrible. I know not everyone agrees with that, and I understand why they don’t and I can’t even really fully argue against their points because I see value in their points as well. It may simply be that I try as much as possible to always see others as humans first and everything else second, and because I think of humans as highly fallible, very prone to making mistakes or being short-sighted at times, to me I guess I always choose to think of it as a person always has another chance to make another choice. They can change how they interact with others or the world at any second of the day if they choose to do so.

It doesn’t mean it’s a simple switch; that choice may entail a very long and rocky journey that may never be over -- it may mean making the decision to seek counseling if possible, or finding safe people to open up to, or starting to (safely) research and seek out communities that may reflect what’s happening in their mind... It may mean putting oneself into a position to constantly have to stop and question for months or years every second of the day if what they are doing fits their new code/path or not. It may mean that seemingly simply choice will lead to a lifetime of a pain in the ass - but that choice is still there. A person can still choose to make that effort. And sometimes, it’s our past mistakes that are our greatest motivation for making that choice, and going through those ups and downs. So I feel like it’s important to be as open-eyed and open-minded as possible about our past missteps (even if those rise to much higher levels than something as simple as a cute little mistake) and make an effort to change our future to better honor what we should have been in our past.

That may or may not be the right answer to everything; I don’t know. It’s just how I view the world, and so it’s how I tend to live, or at least do my best to follow. I do think that sort of mindset makes me vulnerable to taking the same steps at times of giving the benefit of the doubt for perhaps longer than I should, for holding out hope that others will take responsibility for their actions and learn from their mistakes, for continuing to believe there’s a chance things can resolve better in the future and those who were hurt will get a chance for closure. In a way, that mindset likely makes it easy to take advantage of my ongoing hope for other people, and also likely makes it so I don’t see the dangers of things as they’re occurring because I want to believe other people care about other people as much as I do.

I suppose some people would take this as indication that they should change, but I don’t really feel like I should. I feel like it’s on other people to take responsibility for their actions, to prove themselves to be better than they were, to show they are willing to show humility, to improve, to care. I don’t personally feel like the answer to the conundrum is for me to change to be more like the things I don’t care for in response to things people have done to or around me; rather, I feel like as much as I am able, I want to keep trying to be what feels most right for me, even if that comes off as easy to manipulate, because I just really don’t like the idea of anyone else convincing me I can’t and shouldn’t be who I truly am simply because of their actions. As sad as I may be by what other people choose to do with their lives, as angry as it sometimes makes me, as frustrated as I get, I still want them to have another chance if they will use it. Because ultimately, what helps everyone is if they get help and they improve; not me changing to reflect their negativity and creating or continuing unnecessary cycles of pain, abuse, violence, or whatever else may be thrown one’s way.

I keep telling my parents that if I’m murdered for some reason in my life, they damn well better not use that as an excuse to send hate out there to the world in my name. I don’t want that. I would much rather there be something productive or positive... create a law that protects people who are in a position I was where I wasn’t protected, or build a non-profit that helps prevent my tragedy, or brings community and aid to the families and friends left behind from others like me. Something like that. Not self-righteous anger being used to justify more distance being spread between the people of this world.

That’s a tangent, but I mention it in part because I have very little hope my parents would follow through with my request. They’re much more in the mindset of retribution than I am. So hey, here’s my official request for others out there to remember I want something nice and productive and caring or protective done in my name in the event of tragedy, not something that at the heart of it is motivated solely by fear, pain, anger and hatred.

Anyway - that was a tl;dr of saying thanks but honestly I don’t know that I’m anyone to look up to in particular - there are way cooler people to look up to, like Malala, for example. I think I just have a thought process that’s probably pretty typical for people of my type of personality, and so in that way I’m probably a dime a dozen. I bet you are super awesome, yourself, and you probably would react the same way as me in this situation. But I appreciate the sentiment and I’m wishing you all the very best, and truly hope you and those you love are safe and healthy during these strange times.

PS: I didn’t bother putting this behind a cut because sometimes I have issues getting that to show on phones for people but if anyone is annoyed by this long ass thing on their dashboard and want me to edit it to have a cut, let me know and I can.

#Anonymous #ask ais #icosbooks #icos #in the company of shadows

7 notes · View notes

kitanoko · 5 years

Text

In which Todoroki and Kaminari ‘studied’

Note: HEY EVERYONE, I haven’t written in a long time (a year at least?) but I want to dedicate this to @selephi and @foxxhunter44 ‘cas they’ve always been very supportive of my fanfics and heck I hope y’all enjoy this!

This hit, that ice cold, Michelle Pfeiffer that white gold… This one for them hood girls, Them good girls straight masterpieces~

Todoroki tapped along with the rhythm unexpectedly, unaware of where the upbeat song had seeped from until he saw from the corner of his tired eyes that the boy studying beside him was grooving with headphones on. The music was loud enough for Todoroki to wonder if it would prove any hearing damage to the electric hero chilling beside him, leg propped up.

“Are you even studying?” Todoroki had his cheek pressed against his hand, eyes fixated on the biochem notes Midoriya had kindly lent him. The candy wrappers and biscuit crumbs lay grubbily on the scratched up table and he took a refreshing sip of his ice cold coconut water.

Kaminari didn’t hear him, head swaying like he was at the club. Spreading his notes further across the table, Todoroki shook his head in disapproval. He had hoped his classmate would at least try to focus on the upcoming exam. He didn’t have to come after all; he was perfectly appeased with reviewing his lessons in the quiet midst of his room. It was really Kaminari who had asked him to join.

Todoroki nudged him with his elbow after emptying his drink. The blond boy unwantedly pulled down his red headphones and curved a brow, steadily shooting Todoroki a questionable look.

“Yah?”

Kaminari had the audacity to give him a nonchalant one-word response, seriously?

Todoroki gave a grunt, meeting his golden irises with discontent.

“As much as I’d like to stay here and watch you throw your grades away,” Todoroki started, rough hands gathering his notes, “I’m gonna go take a breather.”

Come to think of it, if he left now, he’d probably be able to squeeze in time for the weekly hero special on channel 9 which Midoriya and Iida were for sure going to be watching in the common room. He could already see his best friends’ eyes unblinking towards the screen and letting out the occasional laugh. Not to mention the scent of Yaoyorozu’s relaxing lavender tea tickling under his nose as she walked by in her comfy robe (yes he’s imagining this too)…her soft hair flowing like in her latest commercial and…

Wait Todoroki Shouto. Just stop. Stop whatever you’re thinking.

“Aww, come on Todoroki, don’t be a bum! I was studying I swear!”

That snapped the duo quirk boy back to his senses.

Todoroki peered at him at the corner of his eyes, hands readying to stuff the papers back into his backpack.

“…were you though?”

Kaminari sheepishly scratched the nape of his neck, legs easing back down onto the wooden floor. Hearing his friend’s challenging tone, he quickly said, “I mean…I WILL be studying. Dude, I totally invited you mainly just to like…hang out and you know…get to know each other. This biochem stuff is easy peasy. I could do the test in my sleep.”

“Big words Kaminari. Last time I heard, Jirou hit you on the head ‘cause you couldn’t even draw a water molecule.”

“You sure that was me bruh?”

“Yes. ‘Cause I saw your paper and you drew two oxygens linked to a hydrogen.”

The electric hero stuck his tongue out. “My bad. Silly mistake really…..ANYWAYS” The blond waved his hand in attempt to change topics, “….let’s have some bro time.”

Todoroki didn’t like the sound of that.

“And what does that entail?” He questioned, bending his knee onto his seat.

Kaminari flicked a piece of loose hair.

“Okay question 1.”

“Wha—“

“Who would you choose out of the girls in our class?”

“Choose for what scenario.”

Kaminari smirked. “As a girlfriend bruh. Girlfriend.”

Todoroki shrugged. “Probably Yaoyorozu. Why?”

At that the fire and ice user felt a shook on the ground as Kaminari slumped flat, rolling in laughter.

“OH MY GOD MINETA SO OWES ME 10 BUCKS. ”

The former stared blankly.

“Wasn’t that obvious, who else was I supposed to choose?” Todoroki tried again to shrug it off.

Kaminari’s eyes beamed, “Wait…” He fished out his phone, finger mischievously hovering over the red button, “Can I record this confession so I can broadcast it to all of UA. Not that it needs broadcasting though since anyone who doesn’t have grapes for brains know.”

Todoroki ran a hand through the whites of his hair before he reasoned. “Well, we met before during the recommendation exam. Then there’s the cavalry battle. And of course our fight against Aizawa. Plus, we worked quite well rescuing Bakugou. Yaoyorozu is the most logical choice.”

“Only you would explain that with ‘logic’.” Kaminari mocked and rested his chin against the cup of his hand, “There isn’t anything other than you two having that ‘bond’ that made you say Yaomomo’s name so fast?”

Todoroki actually gave it a thoughtful five seconds before coming up with, “Uh..her personality’s not bad and I wouldn’t doubt she’s the most intelligent student in UA.”

“And?”

“I really don’t know what else.”

“Bro, she’s nicknamed ‘Goddess’ …class B calls her ‘Queen’. Ya sure there isn’t even a slighttttt chance you’d say you’re also attracted to her face?”

Kaminari dragged the word rather mischievously, lips upturning into a cunning yet generous smile. It sent shivers down Todoroki’s spine and not in a pleasant manner. The latter stood up to put away the bunched up jacket that had slid down from the arm of a chair. Oh Thank God. It was something to distract him from saying the wrong words.

“Haven’t thought much about it.” He nonchalantly uttered, mouth parted in an exhale. He turned around wanting to say more when he noticed a noise.

Steady three knocks were heard behind Kaminari and he gestured for his friend to grab the door. What stood on the other side was the girl of topic playing with the ends of her hair which had been fixed straight and held with a bowtie clip above the right of her forehead. Her glassy doll eyes happily danced from Kaminari to Todoroki which seemed unusually fixated on her.

It was different. Nice. Ponytails on her were good too, no, it was great! But this was refreshing. Like seeing the sun rising just after thunderous rain. Okay that’s exaggerating. But heck, he liked it.

“Something on her face?” Kaminari asked and if Todoroki had eyes behind his head he’d be able to see his annoying grin again.

The duo quirk boy rolled his eyes.

“Sorry to interrupt Todoroki-san!” Yaoyorozu did a slight nod to Kaminari as well, “I was wondering if you two would like to enjoy some thumbprint cookies I made?”

At that the electric blond jumped over. Todoroki looked down from her rosy-cheeked smile and saw that indeed she had some baked good in her hands. Circular shortbread with an oval imprint in the middle filled with what looked like raspberry jam.

“That looks delicious Yaomomo!” Kaminari quickly grabbed a few and popped it into his mouth ignoring all common etiquette. But it was Kaminari so ‘etiquette’ didn’t compute to him.

The other two watched as he chewed, sweat starting to bead on his forehead while his jaw completely stopped moving. He also didn’t swallow.

Yaoyorozu frowned. “Is it…not good?”

Kaminari faked a chortle while his face folded into an ugly grimace.

“Ahw no! It zo ….yummmmmmy,” the blond had managed to cough out and nudged Todoroki with his elbows. His voice was obstructed by the mixture of cookie dough and jam that had sat on his tongue. Kaminari rubbed his tummy.

“YYuuummm,” he mumbled again.

The white and red haired boy wanted to roll his eyes again at the thought of how fake Kaminari’s acting was and noticed the girl in front of him slump in defeat, hands lowering the plate of cookies sadly. Todoroki immediately extended a hand to receive the plate and took one of her creations to taste.

Oh god. Now he knew why Kaminari had that expression.

Yaoyorozu’s eyes glinted and sparkled with anticipation, watching his every move.

“So? Todoroki-san?”

Should he…say something?

A whole 20 seconds had passed before he turned to give Kaminari an awkward look as if they could read each other’s minds.

Todoroki swallowed.

Man, it felt like sand and tasted like chalk. How he knew what chalk taste like he didn’t know. At least the jam was somewhat normal.

“It’s,” He swallowed again just to get rid of the aftertaste, “very well-done, Yaoyorozu.”

Good thing he usually had no expression ‘cause now was the best time to look neutral.

“Aww thank you!” The girl appeared zealous, white teeth beaming with her lovely façade. She pushed the rest into his hands. “Enjoy these then. And oh! They’re great with jasmine tea! I’ll head back out now! Can’t have Jirou and Ashido waiting.”

“Sure thanks,” Todoroki nodded in acknowledge and waved once as he watched her stroll-skip along the hall back to the elevators, the flutter of her flowery pajamas catching his attention.

Kaminari hurried to push the door to a close and spat out what looked like cookie sludge into the closest garbage can, some missing the target and ending up on the floor.

“Holy crap that was the worst decision I ever made. It tasted like dirt.”

Todoroki sent him a heated glare.

“Bro I know you were dying inside when you gulped that thing down too.” Kaminari’s gaze rested on the cookies in Todoroki’s hand, eyes narrowing as if they were poisonous.

“Well I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

“You’re in too deep my man.”

Todoroki pretended to not understand what his friend was implying and started to open his tea cabinet.

“What are you doing dude.”

“Making jasmine tea as Yaoyorozu suggested.”

Kaminari could only facepalm and slumped back down onto his previous seat. “Don’t tell me you’re actually going to eat the rest of her cookies? I’ll help you flush them down the toilet okay?” Kaminari sent a wink. “And I’ll keep it a secret between us.”

Todoroki shook his head. “I feel like she made it with all her effort and I’m wasting that.” Tapping against the hot kettle that was beginning to bubble from the boiling water inside, the fire and ice user felt a small, appreciative tug along the curve of his lips.

“And seeing her this happy? That was worth it.”

He turned around noticing Kaminari’s sudden quietness and found him leaning forward with his phone in hand, his right thumb just releasing from the red button on his screen.

“—ANNNNDDD DONE. RECORDED!”

Todoroki froze as he dropped what he was doing

“What.”

“I’ve just recorded the oh-so-great Todoroki admit his crush like a giddy teenager.”

“I was not giddy.”

“Oh, were you not? Okay sorry, I’ll say ‘lovesick’.”

Todoroki took a step. His aura begin to build, even Kaminari could feel the heat emitting from his left side. A wave of warmth gradually began to waft over and the blond quickly stood in defence.

“Yo, calm down bro, alright I won’t show anybody.”

“Then delete it.”

The blond crossed his arms, teasingly wiggled a finger. “Sorry man, this is hard evidence.”

“Fine.”

Kaminari felt uneasy. The boy in front of him loosened his expression so quickly that it felt almost ominous. Something was up.

“You give up quick dude.”

Todoroki’s shoulders slacked and continued to brew his tea, taking it in stride. “It’s nothing. Just remembered that I have a picture of you crying because you didn’t know how to write Jirou a confession letter.”

Kaminari’s jaw fell open in a big ‘O’.

“WAIT WAIT WAIT HOLLLL UP BRUH.” The electric user stumbled in his steps as he shook Todoroki from side to side. “YOU HAVE WHAT? SHOW ME.”

The former scrambled to find Todoroki’s phone and the duo quirk hero fished it out of his pocket and began to swipe the screen a few times. A smirk finally formed on his chapped lips.

“Yeah. Still here. I forgot to delete it after Bakugou sent it to me.”

“BAKUGOU?!” Kaminari pulled it off Todoroki’s hands. An embarrassing picture of him, eyes red, holding a piece of paper and pen in hand in the corner of the dorm lobby surfaced on the 6 inch screen.

“Guess we’re even then.” Todoroki shrugged. “You can keep that and I’ll keep this.”

Kaminari fell onto his knees in defeat.

“NO PLEASE.”

“Too late.”

“I’ll delete your recording! Come on!”

“Nope.” Todoroki took a heavy sip of his tea as the aroma tickled his nostrils. He grabbed a cookie. Mmm, it was better with tea for sure. Or was this what petty-ness tasted like?

His heterochromic eyes fixated on Kaminari’s frantic expression as he instinctively pulled it back into his pocket.

“To be honest, I don’t even care if you showed what I said to other people. It was a comment I’m not ashamed of and heck, everyone knew I voted for her for class president. It’s not shocking I’d support her in any way I can.”

Kaminari finally came to his senses and forced a sigh.

“Fine. You win. But I swear to all that is holy, Todoroki Shouto, if you EVER show Jirou this I will not hesitate.”

Todoroki almost outright laughed. “Okay, okay.”

“Bro date over now.” Kaminari slogged out the door, sounding unappeased, “Goodnight.”

“Oh, already?” Todoroki teased.

Kaminari’s head swung low as he head towards the hallway and Todoroki mumbled a short ‘Mm.’ before helping him close the door.

Good thing he didn’t mention that Bakugou had sent it to Ashido as well, Todoroki thought, or else he’d worry if Kaminari could even sleep tonight.

#todomomo #todoroki shouto #kaminari denki #bnha #todoroki x yaoyorozu #my fanfic

120 notes · View notes

mizu-writes-kumo · 5 years

Note

Qb shiro, geeky nerd Lance, biker kuro. College.

This was admittedly harder to do than I expected. I wrote with a gen sort of pairing in mind, since I wasn’t give a ship exactly. But I suppose it could be read in whatever way you wish.

I hope you enjoy it!

You can also read it here on AO3

–

“Oh, oh okay, I think I get it!” Shiro said excited as he looked at his notebook.

His pencil at the ready as he started at the work on the page. He moved to start for second before hesitating a fraction of a second later with a look of puzzlement on his face. And each time his confidence deflating more and more. Until…

”No, no I don’t have it.” He groaned miserably as he dropped his head down on the table.

“Careful, brother, your head already gets hit enough every game.” The voice of Kuro, Shiro’s younger twin brother said in a teasing tone. And he laughed loudly as Shiro growled at the words. “Hey, I am just looking out for you. You’re going to need all the brain function you can get for your rocket science degree.”

“It’s atroscience. ” Shiro corrected, head still on the table.

Kuro chuckled lightly at the comeback. Causing Shiro to lift his head just enough to glare at his brother on the other side of the booth. Which only made Kuro chuckle more as he slouched back as he took a drink from his shake. Sticking his tongue out behind the straw as Shiro continued to look at him.

Before Shiro kicked his brother’s shin.

A gentle chuckle beside Shiro cut off Kuro before he could curse and retaliate. Shiro turned to the sound to find Lance half rolling his eyes behind the frames of his glasses. Shaking his head at them, in the oversized Star Wars hoodie Shiro and Kuro had gotten him when they visited Japan like three years ago.

“Play nice you two.” Lance huffed lightly, as he moved to reach for Shiro’s notebook. To place it more in the middle of Shiro and him. “We’re in public. And Kuro’s already getting us a few stares as it is.” Kuro gasped loudly like he took a offense to comment. “What you look like Biker extra from a movie set?”

Shiro chuckled as Kuro grumbled into his shake. Stating all he was doing was wearing a moto jacket, his nice one with no patches. And like ripped black jean with a white shirt and combat boots. He looked biker inspired not…full on biker. Not mention he was sipping a cookie dough milkshake, he was like no level of threatening about it.

Lance shook his head beside Shiro before he turned to look at the notebook.

“Okay, why don’t you tell me what your not getting?” Lance asked softly.

“All of it.” Shiro explained dramatically as he flopped against the table.

“And that is why I took Japanese for my language credit. Easy A.” Kuro stated with a hum.

“Which is totally cheating.” Shiro countered back with a sharp glare and pointed finger.

“How?”

“We’re Japanese , Ryou. It was literally our first language, and we lived in Japan for like five years. You can’t take a class for a language you already know. That’s cheating and a waste of like everyone’s time.”

Kuro rolled his eyes as he shrugged.

But he doesn’t say anything back. They’ve have this argument like once a week since Shiro started taking Spanish 1. Because Shiro didn’t want easy, despite…well like everyone in the athletics department wanting him to take easy courses. Can’t have the school’s star quarterback flunking out of any sort of class.

Shiro doesn’t care though. He figured Spanish should be enough of a challenge to not feel like a walk in the park. As well as have the Athletics Department relaxing because that was standard and easy.

“Plus, he wouldn’t have the best Spanish tutor in the whole universe.” Lance stated proudly.

“Shiro corrected your spelling like ten minutes ago.” Kuro pointed out lazily.

Lance gasped in dramatic fashion at the words. Like how dare Kuro say something like that to his face. “It’s was a common mistake native speakers make all the time.” Lance returned with a pointed huff.

“Yeah, Kuro.” Shiro said supportively.

“Fine then,” Kuro said as he turned back to his own notebook. “I won’t proof either of your papers for grammatical errors next time you ask.”

“You won’t dare!” Lance hissed.

Kuro hummed thoughtfully.

In a way, Shiro knows is a lie. Well at least for towards Lance. Kuro can never really tell Lance no. Nor would he ever willingly let Lance turn in a paper that without at least a friendly glance over and proof. He wanted Lance to have the best shot at a good grade. With Shiro…he would probably follow through until Shiro was begging and offering to do some chores for a week. And even then he would still probably resist.

“Help me with Spanish please.” Shiro pleased lightly and dramatically. Pulling Lance’s attention from his brother. “Please, I’ll owe you forever and ever.”

“You already owe me forever, so I’ll take the additional ever.” Lance said with a warm smile.

Before he launched into explaining conjugations for Shiro again. As well as when and how to use each one correctly, with a few helpful examples. Then carefully walked to Shiro through a set of his units vocab words. Then Shiro had a go with Lance watching closely to make sure he was getting the hang of it.

Kuro would interject a comment here and there. But also started work on his own homework and study he needed to for his classes.

“Hey, you’re coming to the game next week right Lance?” Kuro asked once he finished the work he needed to get done…or he was just bored of doing. “You’re not leaving me to cheer my idiot smart brother alone again are you.”

“Keith, Matt, and Hunk went where there with you last time.” Shiro shot back.

“They’re not as fun.” Kuro returned.

“Yeah, I’ll be there, so you can relax, Kuro.” Lance stated as turned his attention to the plate of fries in the middle of their table. “I cleared the whole day. Especially since we lost last game, and Shiro took that nasty hit. Because apparently I am a good luck charm or something.”

“Well more like a pre-game ritual,” Kuro huffed playfully, and Lance laughed. “Shiro is a superstitious maniac on game day. You know I can’t do laundry the day before, on, or after game day. And Shiro has to eat a hard boiled egg for breakfast, as well as shine his helmet while–”

“No, Kuro, shut up , you loser. Lance, don’t listen to him, you the best good luck charm anyone could ask for.” Shiro said as he glanced up from his work.

Lance laughed lightly in reply. “Oh, I know.” Lance said smugly.

Shiro felt his cheeks heat up a bit at the words.

He turned back quickly to his Spanish homework. He ignored the way Kuro chuckled knowingly at the action. Or mostly he ignored Kuro. Shiro did after all kick his brother in the shin again.

And Kuro returned the action quickly.

Lance just rolled his eyes on them as he proceeded to pick at the fries.

–

AN: I hope you enjoyed this!

Also again, tumblr took out my italics and I am just too lazy to put it back int.

#shance #kurance #vld lance #vld shiro #vld kuro #kuro and Shiro are twins #fanfiction #ask fic #written as gen #but could be read however I guess #prompt fill

49 notes · View notes

poppytheorist · 5 years

Text

Me Laughing

must’ve been one hell of a joke

Preamble

So, I was in the middle of writing a piece on [redacted] when Poppy released a 27-minute video of herself laughing. Naturally, that took priority. Sorry for my absence, this post took some time. And by “some time,” I mean “45 hours.”

This may be the best thing I’ve written, but it’s also the most insane thing I’ve written. In fact, I would label this post as ‘maddening.’ It’s possible you won’t be able to look at Poppy the same way again. I know I don’t. You can’t unread this, readers beware, [other dramatic warnings], etc., etc.

Descend when ready.

…

I thought “Concrete” was pretty #wild, but “Me Laughing” takes the cake. This video is pure lunacy, and I mean that somewhat literally since Poppy does laugh at what appears to be nothing for almost half an hour.

Due to the sheer insanity of “Me Laughing,” I’ve put together a handy little collage to help readers follow along. Behold: my barely passable Paint skills!

the pic for Section 4 basically explains everything

Before we begin, I need to address a few things. There’s at least, like, nine people who read this stuff, and while I can’t say that I envy you, I can say that I appreciate you. Thanks for sticking around.

However, there’s a funny thing that happens when you know you’re writing for an audience. You feel pressured to adapt your style. I feel the need to be a little more careful about some of the things I say, but that’s probably for the best. Hopefully this extra care will result in more coherent posts, but I doubt it.

This post will be long. Partially because “Me Laughing” is long, partially because I’ve padded this out with shaky theory about how the world works. Guess that’s no different than my other posts, but still, feel free to tune that out if you’re just here for the Poppy stuff, though maybe you’ll find some of it interesting.

I tend to write authoritatively, which may be misleading because I’m not always confident about what I’m saying. I simply enjoy taking things to their natural conclusions. Typically, there’s something interesting at the end. Or, at least, a premise insane enough to make writing about it enjoyable. See, for example, my post on “Concrete.” This post won’t be much different, maybe just a little crazier.

Now, I’ve got a funny feeling that some people may think I am “reading too much into this” or that Poppy’s work “isn’t that deep.” Hey, I get it. Those objections are completely understandable. I was once there myself, but now I’ve moved away from thinking that way. I’ll do my best to explain why.

From what I’ve seen, aesthetics (roughly: the study of art) is a total battlefield. Nobody agrees on anything, everybody thinks that only they can ‘properly’ understand art and that everyone else is wrong. There’s people who think beauty is objective, there’s people who think “no, that’s stupid, beauty is obviously subjective,” and there’s even the people who outright deny that aesthetics exists. Recently, we also had the pleasure of witnessing the aesthetics debate become another facet of the everlasting culture war. Think a line from “Play Destroy” sums my thoughts about that up: “oh boy!”

Needless to say, it’s a massive shitshow.

Despite my rather war-torn depiction of modern aesthetics, it might be a good thing that we can never ‘understand’ art. I hear that’s, like, part of the point. If art was ever ‘solved,’ well, we’d be faced with the idea that there is nothing ‘special’ about being human, that we’re just sacks of meat bumbling around with no purpose. Then everybody would, like, die or something. Truth hurts, art heals, let’s stay alive.

Anywho, I mention all this because there’s no rigorous way to determine how ‘deep’ a song (or any piece of art) is. You can’t just take a stick, poke it into some art, and say: “yep, this Poppy song is 75 [metres/fathoms/hands/whatever nonsense unit] deep!” Besides, nobody even agrees what ‘artistic depth’ means, and most attempts to define it flounder. If you listen closely, you can just faintly hear Goodhart laughing.

This is also why people who think they can ‘objectively’ analyze art are dogmatic blowhards. Any amount of rigorous thinking reveals that our standards for what make art ‘good’ or ‘bad’ are entirely baseless. No, seriously, it’s a case of channeling your inner Socrates and repeatedly asking ‘why’ until the other person throws their up their arms, leaves, and stops answering your texts.

We don’t even know what art is, so thinking you can ‘understand’ art and judge its ‘depth’ is pure arrogance. At least, until someone finds a way to math that shit. “Sounds solipsism.” Well, ya gotta start somewhere.

Now, does this mean we should also throw up our arms, say: “screw it” and return to binging Netflix and eating foods that you know aren’t good for you but you eat them anyways because they make you feel good and that’s what you need right now? Well, no, actually.

Even if we aren’t 100% sure what art is, or what we should do with it, there are some theories on art that I would call: “pretty not-terrible.” Some people have spent their entire lives thinking about these things and their insights are fascinating. However, I’m not here to talk theory. If you want to learn more, go pick up a book or something, nerd.

Anyway, one time this German guy said: “without music, life would be a mistake.” He also said that looking at things from multiple perspectives is pretty neat, so that’s what we’re here to do. Turns out art is kinda fun and spending a bit more time thinking about it pays dividends.

See, art just wants to be understood and so does Poppy. I want to give her and Titanic the benefit of the doubt and take them seriously as artists. While I don’t think everything they produce is God’s gift to earth (see: [redacted]), I do enjoy the majority of their work. Plus, the abstract and absurd nature of their content means writing about it is a blast.

Whether I truly believe any of the interpretations I come up with is irrelevant. Hell, I’m not even sure half of what I say even remotely resembles what Poppy and Titanic envisioned. But, that’s not the point. Shallow readings are a dime-a-dozen, see: Genius; I’m here to provide something better. To show that Poppy’s work, or any art, really, can be a whole lot more fun if you spend even just a teensy bit of time analyzing it. Hopefully I can also provide some of the tools to do so.

Enough rambling, let’s get into it.

Intro

At first glance, “Me Laughing” seems like Poppy doing cute ASMR for 27(!!) minutes while simultaneously trolling anyone who expected a video titled “Me Laughing” to be about anything different. Sure, but that reading gets a ‘B’ for ‘Basic.’

Yes, Poppy and Titanic often troll their audience. See: “A live Interview with Poppy.” But the trolling is both part of the delivery of their message and part of the message itself. So while “Me Laughing” looks like a simple ASMR troll video, I’m going to argue that it’s not.

Previously, Poppy released videos like “Delete Your Facebook” and “I’m Poppy.” Fun vids, but they’re made of looped clips. Thirty seconds in and you’ve watched the whole thing. Consider: “Me Laughing” is 27 minutes, but no parts are looped, it’s all original. As always, I’m just here to ask: why?

Since “Me Laughing” is not made up of looped clips, but is instead all original content, there is an inherent progression to the events. Each segment is unique, and when considered sequentially, pieces from each section build on each other to produce an artistic whole.

Yes, that’s a fancy way of saying it has a ‘story.’

Also, if you’ve watched the video, you’ll know that something just feels ‘off.’ If “Me Laughing” was ‘just’ Poppy ASMR, why does she constantly focus on a single point in the distance? What’s with Poppy’s frequent stares into the camera? And why the fuck is she wearing latex?

Clearly, something else is going on.

Detailed Summary

Let’s recall what actually happens in “Me Laughing.” Hopefully this recap will convey a sense of what ‘else’ exactly is going on and make the insane claims later on in the analysis a tad easier to swallow.

“Me Laughing” starts off pretty normally. Sections 1 and 2 are mostly Poppy laughing, as promised. Even in these early sections, however, we can still pick out some peculiar things.

In Section 1, and throughout the video, we see Poppy looking upwards as she laughs, as if she was remembering something funny that happened. Or as if she was thinking about something for a while and suddenly found it hilarious. “Maybe Poppy just looks upward when she laughs.” Doubtful. Try doing it right now. Feels weird, right? Whatever, moving on…

Next oddity: there’s a strange transitioning shot at the start of the video and between Sections 1 and 2 where the camera sweeps over Poppy’s latex-ed body. “Well, maybe Titanic just thought it would be cool to do it like that.” Yes, but why did he think it would be cool? Why that transitioning shot, out of all the possible ones? What purpose does it serve?

Also: Section 1 was a very steady shot, probably filmed using a tripod, or whatever fancy word camera-people use. However, the shot for Section 2 is shaky. Like, weirdly shaky. Maybe even too shaky. And this isn’t the only section filmed this way, half of “Me Laughing” is too. “Well, maybe Titanic can’t hold a camera steady.” No, that doesn’t seem right. We know Titanic can, in fact, hold a camera steady, or, at the very least, he possesses the means to take a steady shot. See: literally all Poppy videos. No, the shaky-cam is intentional. Again, I’m just here to ask: why?

Now, I don’t mean to tip my hand too much here, but to me, the camera’s sway resembles the unsteady gaze of a curious observer. Perhaps one who is timidly stepping around the beheld, drinking in all the angles. Recall my post on “Touch Poppy.” With steady camera shots, it’s easy to forget someone is on the other side, but with unsteady shots, it’s downright impossible to ignore, e.g., “wow, that shaky-cam is really noticeable. What is this, a shitty sequel to the Blair Witch Project?” Perhaps these sections were filmed this way to emphasize the presence of an observer. As for why such a thing would be emphasized—well, we’ll get to that.

Around the 3:30 mark, Poppy shakes her head and clearly utters a, “m-mm,” as in, “nuh-uh, no way.” This gesture is repeated throughout the video. I’ll let you think about that one.

The video continues, and at 3:52 the camera lazily pans down, focusing on Poppy’s body and cutting her head out of the shot for several seconds, similar to the transition shot from Section 1 to 2. Thirty seconds later, the same thing happens. Guess this isn’t just Titanic diversifying the shot composition. It’s also about this point where attempts to pass “Me Laughing” off as anything resembling a ‘normal’ video start to fall apart.

Poppy’s sitting position in Section 3 is both clever and hilarious. It shows her whole get-up, highlighting how absurdly tall her platform shoes are. She also flip-flops her feet back and forth several times as if to further emphasize her mega-shoes. Why would she wear such crazy shoes for a simple video of herself laughing?

That’s not all that’s ‘off’ about Section 3—this is also the first section where Poppy stares at a spot in the distance for a prolonged period of time. In several instances, she quizzically tilts her head to the side, not unlike a faithful dog trying to decipher commands from her master. At 6:23 we also get a clear “huh,” a noise of acknowledgement, of understanding. Further, Section 3 has several stretches of silence where Poppy is no longer laughing. She just sits there while you watch. It’s… unsettling.

Section 4 is shot in a similarly shaky-style to Section 2, but this time with Poppy sitting down. Also, we see instances of Poppy focusing on something off in the distance both when she is laughing and when she is not, as was the case in the previous sections. However, there are some weird things about Section 4 that set it apart from the others and further develop the video.

Around the 8:38 mark, Poppy utters a “mm-mm-mm” sound while shaking her head and staring off into the distance. It’s fairly clear that she is communicating with something off-screen. Perhaps entities that are invisible to us. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say these off-screen entities are the things making her laugh.

We will see more evidence of Poppy supposedly communicating with invisible beings later, however, this is bordering on fetishizing Poppy’s lore as opposed to analyzing her artistic message. If you’re half-learned on Poppy lore (which, you better be, considering the fact that you’re reading this), this would be like focusing on the identity of ‘They’ instead of the significance of ‘They.’ Another example would be focusing on the ‘origin’ of Poppy, e.g., is she an android? Who is her creator? Etc., instead of asking why someone would create the artistic work of Poppy in the first place and/or considering the implications of said work.

If you’ve read anything else I’ve written, perhaps you’ve noticed that I try and stay away from acknowledging that Poppy even has lore. I want to take Poppy seriously, not literally. Or, in “pretentious asshole” terms, to consider her work artistically, not canonically. There are many reasons for this and I didn’t just get here randomly overnight, but that’s for another post.

Edgy ranting aside, there’s another part of Section 4 that I’d like to point out. Before this section, there was only a single instance of Poppy looking into the camera (happened in Section 2), but in Section 4, she frequently looks into the lens, acknowledging that an observer is present. She shoots this observer a flurry of dark and mischievous glances. Then she laughs.

Section 5 features more head shaking, distant staring, etc., but it is also a relatively sad section. Poppy laughs very little, and frequently looks down. Yes, a pun. Poppy has been laughing for most of the video, so why, all of a sudden, does she seem so sad?

Section 6 is shot shakily and close-up. I mean, really close-up. Like, right-in-her-face close-up. To the point where the camera is often out of focus. We’re also given a blatantly voyeuristic sweep over Poppy’s chest as the camera shifts position around her. Further, there are several instances where Poppy looks deep into the camera, with what I refer to as a “model pout,” where she slightly parts her lips and opens her eyes wide. Recall my post on “Computer Boy” where I talked about the fan-idol relationship. That lustful look? It’s for you, except everybody knows it’s not.

Quick note: I will elaborate on this when I talk about “You’re Too Close,” but it’s important to stay mindful and know that despite some uncomfortably voyeuristic shots in “Me Laughing,” it doesn’t necessarily mean that the video, or anyone who worked on it, is, y’know, perverted or something. Depicting the voyeuristic nature of idolism is how we talk about the voyeuristic nature of idolism, the same way that depicting racism is how we talk about racism.

The problem is that nowadays, we are trained to think quickly, not critically. Your initial response (also called your ‘knee-jerk’ response) to Poppy’s work shouldn’t be your final response to it. It’s important to consider context and think carefully. Ask yourself: why would Poppy choose to show you this? What does she want you to think about? What is she trying to tell you?

Section 7 is where things start to get really fucking weird.

Previously, I said that there was something darker lurking in “Me Laughing,” and Section 7 is where this darkness begins to manifest. The segment starts with Poppy having another one of her imaginary conversations with demons or whatever where she nods her head and gives some “mm-hmms” in agreement. Shortly after, she looks right at the camera and laughs in your face. Not only is her laugh absolutely maniacal, but it seems completely sincere too. This section really relates the feeling that you are not in on the ‘joke’—maybe the joke’s about you.

Section 7 also provides a sense of violent foreboding: a creeping feeling that something is going to happen to you, but you don’t know what that ‘something’ is, and you have absolutely no power to stop it. What really drives this sense of helplessness home is the way the scene is shot. At one point, the camera spends a few seconds just looking at Poppy’s hand. This emphasizes your lack of control. You are completely at the mercy of the camera’s whims. You only see what is shown to you. Then, as the scene closes, the camera is put down in front of Poppy, and, after a few tense seconds, she slowly reorients her body and starts crawling towards you. Luckily, the camera is picked up before she reaches it—you were saved, but what if you hadn’t been?

Oh, right, I forgot to mention: Poppy didn’t laugh much in this section.

Section 8 is a more amped-up version of Section 6. We get Poppy staring deep into the camera for almost the entire scene’s duration. Her lustful gaze relates a feeling of vulnerability, like you are spying on a defenseless little girl, but at the same time, it feels like she is giving you one last dose of what you want before she brutally murders you.

Section 9 is fairly straightforward. We have Poppy staring at a fixed point in the distance as if she is receiving orders from her alien overlord. We also get several rapid glances toward the camera, as if her orders somehow involve you, or as if she and someone else are sharing gossip about you right in front of your face.

…

…And then Section 10 happens.

Poppy says: “goodbye.”

In Section 10 we have a bit of a climax. No, not that kind of climax. Well, unless this essay is really doing it for you.

The first interpretation of Section 10 is fairly basic, Poppy is waving goodbye because you’re about to die. Obviously, whatever scheme she and her invisible monster friends cooked up is going to be carried out, and it’s probably going to result in the destruction of everything, yourself included. This is sad, probably, but she seems to find it highly amusing. Again, I’m not a fan of obsessing over canon or lore, so I’ll tackle this one slightly differently in the analysis, but I do think this reading of “Me Laughing” is at least semi-faithful to Poppy and Titanic’s vision. This interpretation also serves as a very nice teaser for P3. I mean, if “Do you disagree?” has told us anything, P3 will have a lot of destroying.

The next reading of Section 10 involves the objectifying nature of idolism. Yes, the $5 words are starting to come out, brace yourself. Anyway, in this section, Poppy giggles as she waggles her hands around, back and forth then forth and back, as though she is using her hands for the first time. Almost like a shiny, new automaton discovering its motor functions. It’s cute, but silly. And by silly, I mean overly silly. You have to remember that Poppy is played by a woman in her mid-20s. Reminds me of some lines from “Hard Feelings”: “my arms and my legs are so stiff / Is that the way you wanted it?” Or, rather, is this how you want her to act?

At the end of the section, the camera moves right up to Poppy’s face and she looks at you and just… stares.

…

And stares…

…

And stares…

…

She knows.

Finally, we get to Section 11, which would be my main argument against the totally boring ‘Poppy communicating with demons’ reading. Poppy is seated, again, with her arms wrapped around her thighs. Note again the sense of her smallness and vulnerability transmitted by her sitting position. Also note the way the shot is filmed, with the camera looking down on Poppy and frequently swooping in for close passes.

And then, in the last two seconds, something really bizarre happens. For a brief moment, some foreign object enters the shot, just in the very corner. Now, I’m about to make a weird argument, be wary of it. Other than the random piece of equipment entering the shot, “Me Laughing” does not end off on a noteworthy moment. Just Poppy sitting there, looking up at the camera. Plenty of instances of that. The video could have easily been trimmed by 2 seconds and nothing would have changed. We can also (probably) assume that somebody carefully reviewed this video before it was uploaded.

We’re left the possibility that those last two seconds were left in the video for a reason. And that reason is—

Hey, wait a minute, was that a mirror?

Analysis

“Me Laughing” is a really interesting video, and you can have a lot of fun if you spend some time looking into it, so that’s exactly what we’re going to do. We’ll tackle it from several different angles, watch for the switches.

Quick words of warning here: I’m about to use the words ‘parody,’ ‘satire,’ and ‘sarcasm’ interchangeably, a practice some would refer to as: “really fucking lazy.” Frankly, I don’t give a damn, I’m not a professional, I’m going to type my silly words anyway and you can’t stop me.

As content loses any sense of shame in attempting to draw your attention, nuance withers away and it becomes harder and harder to differentiate parody from parodied. For example, is “Old Town Road” criticizing the state of the music industry or embracing it? Now, I’m positive that Lil Nas X has the self-awareness of my pug when he’s lapping up his own boogers, yet I personally couldn’t write a song that so perfectly encapsulates everything wrong with modern music. So, is “Old Town Road” a parody or not?

This is where someone ripping off Westworld would say: “if you can’t tell, does it matter?” to which I would answer: “yes, yes it does.”

Context may be fleeting, unreliable, and arguably nonexistent, but I still believe it’s possible to differentiate parody from parodied, it just takes a little more effort. See, I think “Me Laughing” is satirical as hell, especially considering its context within Poppy’s body of work and how it compares to mainstream internet content.

First, consider that the frankly-titled video “Me Laughing” was hyped up for three days before it ‘premiered’ on YouTube. Hilarious, but also incisive. Who waits three days to see someone laugh? “Well, I did.” Ah.

The sarcastic nature of the video also shines through in the description, which reads: “A motion picture starring Poppy.” There’s a tired, yet necessary, statement here on the continuing degradation of internet content. What won’t people eat up?

We all know Poppy’s no stranger to sarcasm. See: “Bleach Blonde Baby” or “Poppy loves Politics.” She will often refer to her videos as “high quality internet content,” while uploading videos of herself eating cotton candy or ‘ooo-ing’ at things. With “Me Laughing,” a video where she laughs for 27 minutes, Poppy further questions where the line is regarding what content people will happily consume.

Fun story: I’ve seen people call “Me Laughing” ASMR. In fact, I think I did, at some point. Huh, I should probably change that. This isn’t totally wrong, but know that “Me Laughing” takes so many shots at ASMR you’d think the video shared a set with Sicario. And, if that’s the case, they could have saved some money and just filmed the video in my neighborhood haha… hah… ha… (seriously though I’m in danger)

Considering “Me Laughing” as a genuine ASMR video would obviously be antithetical to Poppy’s entire body of work. Recall lyrics like: “Poppy is an object.” No, “Me Laughing” is much more than simply Poppy recording cute ASMR.

Poppy has been questioning the nature of people’s ASMR obsession since her first YouTube video, “Poppy Eats Cotton Candy,” where she had the mic uncomfortably close to her throat so her little gulps and coos were clearly audible. What leads to people wanting to hear these things?

Zoom out: many of Poppy’s videos are about obsession. Forget that and the point will fly right over your head. Let’s now reframe the question: why would people want to hear such intimate sounds from Poppy? Answer that and “Me Laughing” will make a lot more sense.

What I’m about to say next will be very dense because it will outline the thesis of a large part of Poppy’s work. Sorry, hopefully it’s still readable. I’m still developing my interpretations of her work, and I promise to expand and explain them more in the future.

I’m also sure some fans will want to stab me in the neck with a rusty spoon for this post because it’ll appear like I am directly criticizing them. In reality, I am actually insinuating that Poppy is criticizing them, but nuance is dead, knee-jerk reactions reign supreme. Whatever. If you react that way, it means you’re so eyeballs deep in obsession that you fail to realize why Poppy courts your obsession in the first place. Poppy’s work entices fans to obsess over her, but it also berates those who do so.

Note that this is all as a means of criticizing the status-quo. And guess what: fans are part of the status-quo. It stings when you realize your idol’s criticisms are actually about you, but I’m not convinced Poppy is malicious. She wants you to be a better person.

This is my best estimate of her thesis: the nature of the objectification of celebrities is rooted in a sexual obsession—that is, a desire for their bodies. Pun intended. Objectification stems from fantasizing over what the celebrity shows you, which is almost always physical, or at least results in the fantasy manifesting itself as a physical representation.

In other words: “everybody wants to be Poppy.”

Poppy recognizes the inherently sexual obsession with figures in the ASMR community. She wears latex in “Me Laughing” to draw attention to this. It’s as if she was saying: “this is what you’re here for, right?”

Note that obsession is inherently progressive. It grows and grows, eventually leading to fans voyeuristically observing the objectified person’s intimate bodily functions. This culminates in “Me Laughing.” Poppy knows what you want, but as payment, she’s going to leave a nagging feeling in your brain that somehow you have done something wrong. That you shouldn’t really be watching this video, but she knows you are.

Recall Titanic’s comments about making people slightly uncomfortable. Consuming is harder with a lump in your throat. The key to understanding Poppy’s work is to ask why she wants you to feel uncomfortable. What about your behavior does she want you to realize?

Earlier in the post, I mentioned that I’m not a huge fan of the whole ‘Poppy talking to demons about destroying the world’ reading because it comes dangerously close to obsessing over her lore. Lore is like history without the usefulness, so I’m going to ignore it. Regardless, I said I would use that interpretation for something more interesting, so I’d like to ask:

What makes someone want to destroy the world?

Throughout “Me Laughing,” Poppy shoots dark glares at the camera. There’s something sinister in her eyes, something genuinely evil lurking in her gaze. We know she obviously has an immense disdain for the status-quo. What else would lead to lyrics like: “down, let it all burn down / burn it to the ground”?

Preceding any cries of “viva la revolución!” or “apocalypse, now!” is an implicit judgement that what is left of the world is either not able to be saved, or not worth saving. That tearing everything down and beginning anew is preferable to salvaging what remains. To reach such a mindset, one would need to see modern society with such disgust and be so disenchanted with our current world that it no longer appears worth preserving. One would also need to have given up hope on the ability for people to come together and solve their problems. To have lost hope in humanity’s ability to adapt and overcome. To think that perhaps our problems have become too big for us to solve, that perhaps we have finally dug too deep a hole to climb out of.

Again, people don’t reach a hopeless mindset overnight; it takes many steps to descend into the darkness. But, the numpties on r/GetMotivated tell me, “every journey begins with a single step,” so let’s take one together.

In a tweet, I mentioned that “Me Laughing” was also about absurdism. No, that wasn’t a typo for ‘absurdity.’ I may write ridiculously deep-dives into Poppy lyrics and lore, but I try not to waste words.

Anyway, let’s play a game. I call it the “imagine something real quick because I need to prove a point” game.

Imagine being stuck in a system. Yes, it’s cliché to use the word ‘system,’ and any time you do, it carries the connotation that you are some conspiracy nut, e.g., “you can’t trust the system man!” I understand all this, please just bear with me and let me use the word, it’s useful. Anyway, you don’t like the system because a lot of the system is bad and it’s slowly, but surely, getting worse. The cracks are starting to show and the whole thing is poised to come crumbling down. Okay, that’s not good, you want to tell people about this. To warn them. However, in order to obtain a sizable audience for your message, you need to first succeed within the system, and to do that, you need to play by the system’s rules.

Okay, no sweat, you release some pop songs. There’s a couple of them that people really dig. Unfortunately, the songs people like don’t contain much of your message. They have a watered-down version of it at best. That’s a little sad, but oh well, at least you’re getting some sort of message out there. Hey, maybe if you make the music video really weird, people will realize there’s something more going on! Hm, that didn’t seem to work either.

So you release some YouTube videos too. Some of them are pretty biting, especially that one on politics. Should get people thinking, right? Hah, no, wrong. People like them, yes, but not for the reasons you want. They like them because they’re “weird” and “addictive” e.g., “its 3 AM on a school night and I’m still watching Poppy videos why can’t I stop lolol.” Imagining that the videos contain some sort of Illuminati-esque hidden message to decode is preferable to examining the real-world implications of the work. Plus, like, there’s experts for that, right?

Anyway, a couple albums and hundreds of videos later, you have a sizable following, sweet, now you can transition to doing what you’ve always wanted to. Change the persona to something a little truer to yourself. Make your message a little clearer. Finally, you have the power to change the world like you always promised you would.

Uh-oh, Houston, we’ve got a problem. Your audience listened to you for X, but now you’re giving them Y. It’s not a total loss, though. You have a lot of loyal members in your audience, and they like your new stuff too. Doesn’t matter what you make, they’re loyal, they’ll watch/listen/whatever to it. Their dedication has become investment which has become even more dedication. In fact, they’ve been following you since the start, when you were first trying to get big. “Yes, but I was trying to get big because I wanted to spread a message and to do that I had to make compromises to grow an audience so people would liste—“

They also have their own ideas of what you’re saying, plus, like, they make neat art, here, check this out, please give this a listen, look at this, read this, please, please? “Hey, nice article. Wait, the next one is how many words?!” And you keep every piece of fan art because it really does mean a lot to you. “Wow, I appreciate it, that’s beautiful, thank you. Oh, what? There’s even more?” Hey, if you have spare minute, could you give a shout-out to my friend? It’s her birthday. “Sure, hold on…” It’s also my birthday tomorrow, could you give this post a like? “Um, okay, just give me a minut—“ Also, could you answer my DM on Instagram? It’s important. And after that there’s only 100 more to answer! kk thanks! “Wait… one second… whoa!”

Now you’re releasing Z, hopefully that will get your message across…

…

Wait—what was your message again?

…

Oh no.

…

Somewhere along the way, probably between performing [this] and signing [that], the essence of your message was lost. Whatever remains has been drowned out by the noise of the system. If we’re talking decibels, notifications are loud, problems are whispers, and these days everyone’s got ear plugs.

Thinking about problems is hard, thinking about them for too long is sad, being sad is uncomfortable, hey, look, Taylor Swift just dropped a new album, that “Lover” song is dope, let’s look at memes.

So, you want to change the system. But to change the system you need power. To get power, you need an audience. But the only way to get an audience is to make content that gets rewarded by the system. And the content that gets rewarded by the system is that which is easily digestible for a large audience, i.e., devoid of substance. I mean, I don’t know about you, but I don’t think “Turn Down for What” resulted in much positive social change. “Well, maybe the system should reward content that is creative, challenging, and conscientious instead!” Ah, yes, I see what you mean. So, you want to change the system…

Pass the mic, Camus, I’ve got a real knee-slapper for ya. Oh, right, guess I’ll just grab it myself.

These days, we’re faced with a new kind of absurdism, one which involves recognizing that societal systems are getting worse and need changing, while simultaneously recognizing that you are chained by said systems, and thus, powerless to change them.

This new absurdism describes the maddening exercise in doublethink where people wrestle with the knowledge that they should be Making The World A Better Place but also the knowledge that they cannot possibly live in a way that satisfies such capitalized phrases. The end result is a mental tearing fueled by impossible societal expectations and the inevitable guilt of failing to live up to them.

After a while, people stop fighting. They give up. They give in. When enough people throw in the towel, all that’s left is to hold on tight and enjoy the ride, e.g., the trajectory is set, all aboard, no, there aren’t enough seat belts for everyone, must have been one of those damn cost-saving initiatives.

“Yeah, that definitely sounds absurd. So… what do we do about it?”

Well, sometimes all you can do is laugh.

#poppy #me laughing

8 notes · View notes

warmau · 6 years

Text

{Special} College!AU Kun

*tw: there is a lot of mention of alcohol in this one find college!nct (here) + hs!au dream (here)

major: aviation engineering

minor: n/a

sports: almost took a yoga class once, does that count?

clubs: was part of cooking club which shocked just about everyone - especially the culinary majors because why was an engineering major cooking better than them - people who actually wanted to be chefs so unfortunately he got banned,,,,,,,joined photography club instead

on the outside, kun is probably the most unremarkable college student on campus

he attends his classes, does his work, hangs out with his friends, and never really causes any kind of drama or ruckus

in a lot of ways he just ,,,,,,, sort of exists

and people only take notice when he’s in the background of things - like that time his roommate lucas broke the shared showers

and lucas, sopping wet in just his towel, was explaining to campus police that he “didnt break anything” the water just magically started overflowing

and kun had to step in, handing lucas a much needed pair of pants and tell the officer that the drains had been busted for weeks. it was only a matter of time till this happened

or when mark confessed he really had no idea how to write a resume and kun was like

“here, take my word document template including a bunch of fake things i embellished about you, but not really because you are a great person!”

mark with tears in his eyes: th-thanks bro

basically, kun is the unsung hero of his friends

he’s always got their back - and he’s always there to support him

but he’s never like in the limelight

on the outside only of course

the reality is, kun works outside of taking classes.

to everyone on campus it’s a night shift stocking a local store in the college town downtown

but in reality, kun works as a bartender

when he was a freshmen, he had found a online video of a bartender mixing drinks - but adding a magical flare to it

whether it was setting the drinks on fire

building pyramids out of glasses

or pouring drinks that swirled around and changed color

the video had fascinated kun, and he decided to see if he’d be any good at the job

turns out - he was

he had always liked being in the kitchen, working with food - working with drinks was pretty similar

each had its home ingredients, and each took its time to prepare

and with his job at the bar - he could be somebody else

he wasn’t just the college kid in the background

he could entertain, he could laugh, he could have fun and stop cleaning up his friends problems

instead he could make other young strangers happy with his drinks and his magic

the only problem was this kun,,,,,,,,,,was far removed from regular kun

and keeping the secret did make kun feel bad

from his friends to his fellow engineering peers

everyone just thought “oh he’s going to his job at the store! he’ll probably study there and get into no trouble - it’ll be bland!”

when in reality he was doing just the opposite

but at the same time,,,,kun felt like there was no way to connect the two. no one would believe he had this other,,,,,vibrant side

plus - he was juggling school and this job pretty well

his dream had always been to fly and fix planes when he was older

so he took up engineering

it came naturally and unlike a lot of people he did enjoy studying

but there was time for geeking out about plane parts in his classes

but also still putting on his bartenders vest and striking smile for his nightime shifts

to everyone around him, kun was always there to be that encouraging buddy

that person who had the answers when you needed them

because he himself never got into trouble

ten would always clap kun on the back and go, “you need to party more! let loose! but not too loose - remember what happened to johnny last saturday?”

and kun would just laugh and agree

all the while thinking that his friends just didn’t know

the closest anyone ever came to suspecting was when kun had a menu pulled up on his laptop of new drinks from the bar

and taeyong had went “what’s that?”

kun had broken into a cold sweat, trying to think up an excuse

only to sigh of relief when taeyong switched the tab aimlessly to a youtube video kun had been watching about pilot safety tips

you ,,,,,, only knew kun as the bartender from your favorite place to drink after a tough test or a shitty day on campus

that’s because you went to college in the part of the city that kun worked in

so to you - kun was an enigma

he was the striking smile and the crazy magic tricks

and the smooth talking, sociable bartender who every person literally fell in love with for their first hour at the bar

you didn’t know about the kun who was quiet and plain

and to be honest, if someone told you kun was the last person to be noticed at his campus

you’d think they were lying - or being plain rude

because no matter how many times you’d been to the bar, no matter how many other boys have been around you

have talked to you

tried to wind you out from your bad mood

the only person who ever made you feel better, aside from the drink in your hand was kun

and to be honest you didn’t even go there to drink anymore

you went there for the small talk with kun

even five minutes of just college kid banter with him was enough to make you forget your shitty professors and your three essays all due in the same week

but,,,,,,,,you’re pretty sure it’s the same for everyone else

kun’s job means he has to be nice to you

he has to be charming, inviting, and ever so handsome

that warm feeling you get in the pit of your stomach whenever he smiles or his hand brushes against yours

you’re sure he’s got that spell cast over everybody

afterall - how could anyone ignore someone like kun?

and what makes it all worse is the fact that your little fascination with him absolutely grows into a crush

when you’re seated at the bar, looking at the beer you ordered - thinking about how intro to nuclear biology turned out to be the WORSE choice for an elective

when someone slides in to the seat beside you

smug look on their face and all

“how are you doing tonight? you’re far too gorgeous to be looking so gloomy.”

the pick up line makes you almost roll your eyes

but you look up at the person and shake your head instead

“i like being gloomy, college was made for that.”

instead of warning them off - the person seems to think your sarcasm is an invite to stay and chat

then they think its an invite to order you a drink

even when you tell them your bottle is half full

kun comes over when the stranger waves their hand

he looks picturesque in his little satin vest, the bow-tie and big glimmering eyes

“a drink for this beautiful angel to my left~”

the say and you reach out before kun can turn around

“i,,,,,dont want it. thank you.”

kun’s expression doesn’t falter, he just nods and glides his way over to another customer

for a second,,,,you feel a little bit hurt

when you’d stopped him - you were hoping kun would read the pleading look in your eye

begging to somehow be saved from the awkward advances of a total random straner

but kun had a job to do, it’s not like he was going to be the knight in shining armor you wished he would be

“why’d you say no to a free drink?”

you look up at the stranger

“i know why you’re buying it for me, and im flattered - but im not interested.”

the once cheap kindness on their face twists into hurt pride

suddenly you’re not just annoyed,,,you’re a little worried as they lean in closer

but before they can whisper whatever it is that they’re thinking they pull back

yelping in pain, they look over to where a smiling kun on the otherside of the bar

has slammed a glass hard onto their hand

“ow! why they fuck did you put that shit on my hand!”

the stranger winces, pulling his red hand up to his chest protectively as kun lifts up the glass

kun’s smile never even changes

but his eyes are darker than usual, sparking with some kind of emotion you’ve never seen from him

“oh, oops. i must have not seen your hand. you should go to the bathroom and ice that.”

the stranger grumbles, throws some more curses you and kun’s way and then disappears into the crowd

you turn and kun tilts his head as you stare at him in shock

“you - you didn’t have to do th-”

kun shrugs

“what? it was a genuine mistake.”

but he winks an then goes back to taking orders

and you sit there, feeling the warmth in your stomach that you usually get around kun turn into a blossoming blush on the insides of your heart

it’s that incident that makes you fall head over heels

you think it’s a little juvenile, in love with the handsome bartender

but you’re in college you’re allowed to be a little juvenile - after all these are the last four years till you’re living in the adult world

but even still - you know kun just sees you as another regular

another college student with your woes, and you’re sure he has some of his own

you daydream that he must be some kind of cool major like music or philosophy

or something prestigious like pre-law or pre-med

how he must walk around on campus with an entire entourage of smitten students wanting him to notice them

how he probably dresses super stylish

how everyone only looks at him and is super duper jealous or in love -

that must be how kun is like at school

because that’s what he’s like here

can you imagine the shock when you end up on kun’s college campus - visiting with your club to give a presentation in the science dept

only to see kun

wearing plain black pants,,,,a button up flannel,,,,,a messenger bag you’re sure he’s had since middle school

and glasses

sitting in the corner of the quad - quietly

reading an,,,,,,,engineering textbook

surrounded by absolutely no one

passed by like he,,,,like he isn’t even there

you nearly triple take just to make sure it’s really really him

and one of your club members jokingly tells you to stop or you’ll swivel your head right off

i mean there’s no way right,,,there’s no way the bartender i know,,,,,is that boy sitting over there? so,,,,so unnoticeable,,,

after you leave - the only thing in your head is the image of kun hunched over his book like that

you keep trying to figure out an explanation

and as you’re sitting in your room you just think - why am i broading about it? i should just ask him.

the thought makes your heart stop,,,,but you decide that if anything ,,,, this all makes kun more approachable

more attainable

but you shake that thought off and when you find yourself on a friday evening at the bar again

watching kun pour shots that turn from a clear white into a misty, fragrant pink

you wonder how someone can just do a 180 and become someone completely new

you’re jealous - it must be a talent

kun’s shift comes to an end at three

and even though you think it’s a little corny that you waited - even a little creepy actually

you just can’t help but want to know

and when kun sees you, he doesn’t seem at all concerned or annoyed

instead he smiles and waves

“it’s so late, it’s dangerous going home now.”

he warns and you feel your stomach do a flip

his first sentence out of his mouth isn’t why are you here? what do you want? it’s the need to show worry and empathy,,,,like is he seriously just the best person on earth?

you smile weakly, “kun - can i ask you something?”

he nods slowly, looking at you with what seems the most pure gaze in the world

“i,,i saw you - a couple of days ago. you were reading a engineering textbook. is that your major?”

everything seems to drain right out of kun’s face

his smile vanishes like melting wax off a candle

and you instantly feel like this is it - that you could die of embarrassment and shame in this moment

when in a quiet voice he goes , “yes”

you don’t know what else to say - so you blurt out what you’re thinking

“do you not like it? you sound so sad,,,,,”

kun pulls suddenly at the bow-tie around his neck

“i like it alot. it’s just,,,,”

he stares dejectedly at the ground in the darkness of the night

“it’s just it doesn’t fit who i am here - right? it’s boring.”

you gape, unsure of what he really means

“you know me as the bartender here, as the happy and outgoing magician of drinks or whatever but in reality,,,that’s an illusion”

he shrugs

“im very plain. i like engineering. i like planes. and i dont really like to stand out. isn’t that funny?”

before your mind can tell you to pause, you reach out and grab kun’s cold hand

his wide eyes meet yours as you shake your head

“it’s not funny, and it’s not an illusion. this job is one part of you - but the other part of you is too. engineering is so interesting, it’s unexpected - but it’s cool and one day i would really like if you -”

your voice trembles - you’ve never really confessed to anyone before this

“i would really like if you told me more about it!”

kun doesn’t say anything for a bit

so much so that you panic, letting go of his hand and whispering a feeble apology

but then he steps closer to you

and you don’t know what he’s going to do next until he puts his hand slightly over your head

confused, you look up - noticing finally that it has started to rain

and kun is shielding you from it

“im fine you don’t ha-”

“it’s late, it’s raining, the right thing is to make sure you stay dry and take you home.”

you feel your entire body burn up in a blaze when kun says that

and you feel even more hot when he pulls you gently into his side as you walk down the street, you nervously giving him directions to your dorm

and when you finaly get there

the RA simply looks up from her phone with a shrug

and you turn to thank kun again

“i dont work wednesdays. would that be an ok day for you?”

he says and you blink

“wh-what do you mean?”

he grins, “you said you wanted me to tell you more, could i take you out on wednesday?”

you do meet kun that following wednesday

you sit in an obscure little cafe for lunch as kun pulls his textbook out of that beat up old messenger back

and opens it up to a page of a diagram and tells you

“it may bore you, but this is my favorite model for planes. there’s a lot of technical stuff, but it’s my fathers favorite too.”

you know kun is keeping everything short - always limiting himself from saying to much

in some weird way you can feel that he thinks he’ll only annoy you with it

but you lean in, holding your cup of tea excitedly with both hands and urge him with a smile to never skip over the technical stuff - you want to know everything

and kun isn’t used to all this attention on him

the suave and experienced bartender playboy you thought he was is nothing close to the reality

he still plays little magic tricks

pulling coins from behind your ear and making a napkin on the table float

but they’re nothing flashy, they’re nothing crazy

they’re,,,,,,,more natural - just like kun

and it’s the little things that you learn about him that make you realize that you might have had a crush on bartender kun

but you could really fall in love with the real kun

the way he moves so he walks closest to the road when he’s with you

how he puts your hand in his pocket as you’re on the way back and the ac in the bus is a little too high

how he swiftly catches the side of your hip when you almost trip on the stairs

and how he does it all without even thinking about it

helping and taking care of others is so,,,,,,,,in kun’s nature

and he does it without any expectation of recognition or praise

he’s the real definition of humbleness

so much so that

when you stare at him, eyes flicking between his lips - up and down for nearly a minute straight on your third little date

he has to ask, literal permission

“is it ok if i kiss you?”

“i thought the staring at your lips would give away the answer to that one.”

for a while you still cant believe you’re actually dating kun

but you start to put together that you’re not dating the kun you daydreamed about

although you still think he’s literally irresistible in his bartender uniform

and he looks more than charming at his night time job still

you’re dating the slightly wallflower-ish kun who much more than ever makes your heart dance and not just your stomach feel warm

but every last part of your being

you’ll still drop by, watch him do his job perfectly, watch everyone in the room fall in love just like you did

but kun never takes it beyond the bar

the only person whose hand he holds, the only person who he calls his wonder in his native min, the only person who gets to see him shed off all this dazzle and become comfortable

is you

and kun tells you that he remembers watching you get hit on by that stranger whose hand he almost nailed to the bar top

and how he’d sensed from the beginning that something was off and if he’d been more daring he would have dragged the dude out the door himself

which surprises you because,,,,,you thought that that moment was just kun being kun

that he’d done it for millions of other people in unwarranted situations and although kun admits that he’s casually saved a couple of people from awkward converstion

you had been the first person he,,,,,,had slammed a glass down on someones hand for

“no one else has ever really evoked that out of me,,” he says one afternoon as you’re sitting between him and a pile of books he’s dragged out of the library

you giggle and kun looks at you all cute and confused

while you tell him that it’s nothing, he’s just - full of surprises

kun and you dating does surprise the rest of nct

notably lucas whose like “bro you are my roommate,,,,how did i not know you were getting spicy with someone”

you: “did he just say spicy?”

kun, deadpan: “that’s just lucas.”

doyoung grabbing lucas by the year: “apologize to them for calling their young beautiful love spicy right now.”

sicheng in mandarin to kun: “but ,,,,, are you two spicy,,,,you know-”

jkjkjkjk

but after the initial shock wears off,,,,you become a natural part of the group

you sort of stay in the sidelines watching nct get up to no good

with kun at your side, shrugging it off and telling you that when you’re both needed to save someone - you’ll be there

but secretly, for kun, it’s finally such a relief to have someone there with him

even if he’d always been content with being the quiet, always comes to the rescue at the last minute kind of friend

there had still been times when he hadn’t even been able to bring his own problems to the table

but now, with you, he can do that

and you’re probably the only one in the world to ever see kun get stressed

so much so that when you tell taeyong you’re thinking of maybe getting kun something to distract him from all his worries

taeyong chokes on his rice and goes, “he-he’s worried about something?!!?”

(moral of the story is you teaching nct to pay attention to kun’s pains sometimes - mark apologizes profusely for almost an hour about not doing so)

but no really, finally for kun there’s someone who not to be a total cornball

but someone who puts him first - just like he puts everyone else

and to be honest it’s nice to be taken care of

also you’re cute. you’re cute when you’re taking care of him. or when you’re not taking care of him. or when you’re right in front of him. or when he’s getting distracted looking at your photo which he made his phone background in class. basically you’re very cute

kun tells everyone you’re very cute

there are many ways to say cute in different languages and kun might just learn all of them just so he can call you cute

also, aside from telling his friends about your relationship - you also end up taking them to the bar

to see kun in action

and although it kind of makes kun a little shy, all of nct nearly fall off their chairs when they see him get into the groove

johnny even claims, in a bit of a tipsy manner, that kun really is the coolest of all of them huh - taeyong you may have your perfect face but kun is really winning oh shit im going to fall dow-

ten, the designated driver thanking you and kun when you have to drag taeil down from atop the bar stage after the tenth time of singing “what is love?”

but anyway back to your relationship with kun

he really is such an attentive person, it’s just part of him to pick up on the little things

he knows your habits, he knows your likes and dislikes

you dont even have to tell him where to put his hand around you - he knows that you prefer your waist over your shoulders

he knows that you hate milk in your coffee

he knows that you’d much rather wear his green hoodie than the red button down jungwoo got him for christmas

he knows when you’re mad before you can even say anything, he knows you’re about to cry before the tears even fall

and you’re so amazed he soaks up all this information and remembers it about you

because it makes you feel completely and utterly loved

people who otherwise don’t know much about kun like to assume he’s kind of closed up

that he doesnt pay attention, that he’s off in his own world

but that’s not true - not at all

and even though kun always pulls you into his arms, nose settled in the crook of your neck

murmuring that there’s nothing in the world he wants then to be here alone with you

you sometimes want to pull him up and have the world realize who he is

how great he is

and how much you love him

also can i just say that he’s so sweet that when you first end up staying the night kun’s hand trembling on the buttons of your jeans

he looks up, eyes blown out and his hair a mess from making out just to go

“stop me now, i dont want to keep going because if i do i think i might really become addicted to you.”

LIKE HE LITERALLY SAYS THAT

and had it not been for you just really wanting him - you might have burst out into tears and hugged him close because he’s so cute

(you know after he was all shy like,,,was it ok,,,i haven’t done this much,,,,,if i can i will impro- *you shut him up with a lot of kisses*)

sometimes you’ll still swing by the bar for a drink on a bad day, but instead of it you swing by

and kun signals to the manager for his break

only to meet up with you out back

and ask you whats wrong, even though he knows what you actually want

which is to kiss his face

and he lets you

(has had to fix his bowtie a LOT more since he started dating you)

(also had to start carrying a comb with him because gosh darn it you keep messing up his hair)

you know that kun is good at making drinks, but when he cooks some of his home favorite meals

you take one bite

get up

and go over to smother him in more kisses

“you are husband material, you know this right?”

kun tilting his head with his chopsticks in his mouth: “i dont think i am.”

you getting up again to give him even more kisses: “god i love you”

kun doesn’t talk much when you guys hang out with his friends which is like totally normal

and you’re ok just cuddling into his side, watching the rest of nct make a fool of themselves

at the movies or at the park or wherever

but one day kun is like “guys wanna see my new magic trick?”

and everyone is like hell yeah

and youre like ? wonder what it is, he didn’t show me this one yet either

and then kun just goes

“right now ill show you guys my ENTIRE universe. wanna see it?”

and all of nct is like huh

and doyoung is like snorting like there’s no way to shrink the universe down or something like what are you going to pull out a tiny globe keychain out of your pocket-

kun pointing directly to you

“there it is. my entire universe.”

nct: dead:

you: literally going to faint

kun: thank you. no need for a standing ovation.

#i listened to what is love the whole time i was writing this and i dont know why? like it has nothing to do with the plot?#take on me by aha came on and i was like crying in the pitch blackness of my room going I DONT KNOW WHAT I HAVE TO SAY KUN ILL SAY IT ANYWAY #nct scenarios #nct u scenarios #kun scenarios #nct imagine #nct u imagine #kun imagines #kun #nct #kun au #nct au #nct u au #qian kun

893 notes · View notes

sweet-cool-twins · 5 years

Text

KyouTen Fanfic: Raimon Jr High Ch 3

Summary: Matsukaze Tenma enrols into Raimon Jr High! Join her on her adventures while she tackles club activities, meet new friends, and fall in love? Plus, the bully, Tsurugi Kyousuke, from her elementary school enrols into Raimon with her! Wait. He's nice now! IEGO Rewritten as a Shoujo High School Romance series. Fem!Tenma, KyouTen and other pairings.FF.net:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13237659/3/Raimon-Jr-High

Disclaimer: I seriously, 100%, totally don't even own the charas, their backgrounds, their clothes, their whatever. My name is not Hino and I'm not even Japanese. Lots of genderbend characters. You've been warned.

"Matsukaze." Tenma was in her classroom listening to Haruna's history lesson when a voice from her right called her. She turned her head, meeting Tsurugi's eyes, and couldn't stop the flush showing up on her cheeks. He looks kinda good looking with that stern stare. Girls like the bad boy type, don't they? W-what am I thinking?!

"Ah...yes?" Tenma whispered, so that Otonashi-sensei wouldn't hear them.

"I forgot my textbook. Can we share?" Tsurugi asked. Tenma recalled him saying that they were partners and that they could help each other out. Tsurugi had never carried a bag now that Tenma noticed. He probably was leaving books in his locker, but why does he not have all the books in his locker?! Tenma wondered.

"Oh, no problem. But how do we do that? We can't join tables."

"Put it on the floor." Tsurugi replied, pointing to the space in between them. Tenma did exactly that. She then went back to looking at the board as Haruna wrote something down. Tenma copied what was on the board into her notebook. There was a still silence between them, until a few minutes later when Tenma heard Tsurugi grunting, "God, I can't see the words." Tenma turned her head back to the boy beside her who was looking down at her textbook. She copied where his glaze was and immediately understood what he meant. The words were really small from this distance. Too small to even make out the words printed on the pages. The only thing noticeable would be the pictures, but it didn't help much with understanding the lesson.

It was then when Haruna told the class to read their textbooks for better understanding of the chapter. Because the words are super small, they both had to bend down for a closer look at the book. And because they had to bend down, their heads were really close to each other. Tenma did not notice the closeness between them at first. Only when Tsurugi flipped a page and Tenma took a glance up at him due to reflex, that she found that their faces were too close to each other. Tenma had to fight off her blush from forming on her face. Luckily, Tsurugi was too busy with the book to notice Tenma's situation.

"So, how was history you guys?" Aoi asked during the break,

"It was awesome! We get to learn about Japan's past! Otonashi-sensei made it so interesting! She's my favourite teacher already!" Shinsuke immediately answered. Aoi nodded, agreeing with her statement. It was yesterday when Haruna taught her class history, and she too found it interesting through her teaching. She focused her attention to Tenma as she had not answered yet. Her friend looked like she was in a daze.

"What about you, Tenma?"

"Uhm...I understood her lesson and her teaching was very interesting. Also, Tsurugi didn't bring his book today." Aoi's jaw dropped. Not only were her thoughts about the lesson seemed like she was not interested in the topic, but also when she heard the mention of a certain bully, the liveliness in her voice appeared, like she was more interested about Tsurugi.

Shinsuke, on the other hand, didn't have any reaction to what Tenma said, mostly because of the phone call yesterday from Tenma where Shinsuke told that she trusted her judgement of Tsurugi, she also did have to agree with Tenma about the change in Tsurugi's personality as she noticed he was not bullying anybody in the same class as him unlike in elementary school.

"T-Tenma! Do you know what you are saying!?" Aoi questioned,

"Ah yeah...I-I know I'm talking about Tsurugi, but he's really a nice guy now!" Aoi sighed, she had given up trying to change her friend's mind. After her apology on the phone before bed yesterday, Aoi started to understand why Tenma had a different impression of Tsurugi than before. Her classmates were also saying that Tsurugi changed too, and seemed a lot nicer now. He still kept to himself, but the bullying stopped and instead, he was nicer to people. Aoi was still skeptical about it and was just worried about her friend.

"I understand Tenma. I'm just worried about you that's all."

"I know Aoi." They both smiled at each other, knowing that this problem was solved. They went back to the topic, about Tsurugi that is,

"So what happened with Tsurugi?" Aoi inquired,

"He asked for my textbook to share. I placed it on the floor as we can't join tables without Otonashi-sensei finding out."

"He asked you really nicely didn't he?" Shinsuke finally spoke,

"Yeah, he asked, 'Can we share?' in the kindest voice I know!" Tenma answered by trying to imitate Tsurugi's voice. Her high pitch voice failed her though.

"Hmm...Tsurugi is starting to become quite popular in my class. Some of the girls in my class are crushing on him already." Aoi started another topic about the navy blue haired boy, suddenly remembering a conversation she had overheard the day before. Shinsuke jumped to gain the attention of the other girls,

"Our class too! You know that maroon haired girl, Aira? She sits beside me. Aira-chan asked me how she should confess to Tsurugi after seeing my confession to Shindou-senpai!"

"Wow...I never knew him changing could cause him so much popularity." Tenma commented,

"You might never know, he might rise up to be popular like Shindou-senpai in the future." Aoi guessed. The bell rang which is the signal for the end of their break. "Ah! Time to go. See you guys later!"

"Bye Aoi!" The two best friends waved at the blue haired girl as she ran back to her classroom, just like the other students running around the hallway, getting back to class.

"Ah~! No homework today!" Tenma stretched her arms high into the air, her back ache from sitting too long and having to listen to the teachers boring talk. Tenma was really happy for having no homework for the day. Our brown haired girl was walking back home alone as Aoi and Shinsuke said that they wanted to take the no homework day as a free time to look for a club to join. Tenma, on the other hand, decided to just go back to Aki's manor and sleep till dinner time as it was not very often that junior high students get to have no homework for a day. Out of the blue, a flashback of Tsurugi asking for her textbook this morning flashed into her mind. She felt her cheeks heating up for no reason. Having this renewed Tsurugi seemed to be a good thing. Tenma was beginning to like this new Tsurugi.

Then a question came to mind. What made him changed? If this was a question in an exam, many people would have no idea of the answer and all might get this question wrong, except for Tsurugi that is. There were many possibilities for the sudden change, but there was one that seemed very likely and could account for the change in the two months break before their year started. His parents found out about his bullying and scolded him. Tsurugi realised his mistakes and decides to be nicer to others. However, most of the time, the boy would ignore scoldings and continue bullying others. Seriously, what made Tsurugi change so much? Tenma's head started to hurt from thinking so much. She closed her eyes and massaged her forehead. Once she reopen them, he spotted Tsurugi walking towards a hospital. Curious, she followed him.

Could it be that he has a family member in the hospital who had a serious illness? Maybe that was why Tsurugi decided to change, but that had to be someone really close to him. His mother perhaps? Hoping Tsurugi won't notice her, Tenma darted and hid behind many walls or plants that could hide her. Finally, seeing him entering a room. She hid behind a wall and listened in on their conversation.

"Nee-san." Tsurugi said in a really sweet and kind voice. Tenma's eyes flew open, she never knew that he had an older sister! Judging from the tone of voice, this elder sister must hold great importance to Tsurugi.

"Kyousuke!" Tenma heard a woman's voice. She had such a sweet and calming voice, totally opposite of Tsurugi. "You came!" Tenma imagine Tsurugi smiling. She heard a chair being dragged and someone, most probably Tsurugi, sitting down. They continued their conversation, "So how is school?"

"It's fine as always."

"Excuse me." Someone asked Tenma from behind which shocked her and made her jumped, "May I know why you are standing here?" A purple haired woman with bright sea coloured eyes, wearing the Raimon general hospital nurse uniform stood there holding onto a clipboard against her chest. She had one sweet and cute voice when she demanded to know what Tenma was doing. Tenma knew she could not reply. Tsurugi may recognize her voice. She could imagine Tsurugi and his sister looking at the door, wondering what had happen, and then Tsurugi would walk towards it to check. Any second now, he would be at the door, getting mad at Tenma for following him. Tenma had to run. Now! Before the purple haired nurse could speak, Tenma dash off with a cloud of dust leading her trail.

#KyouTen #matsukaze tenma #tsurugi kyousuke #fem!tenma #takuran #MasaHika #MinaKura #yuutai #too many pairings to tag #genderbend #inazuma eleven go #inazuma eleven fanfic #Inazuma Eleven #Not Gazelle-sama

9 notes · View notes

edsbrak · 6 years

Text

a thousand times (in your arms)

pairing: Steddie word count: 4k summary: “It’s been stressing him out a bit, and I know he feels bad about not being home as often,” Eddie continues, not sure why he’s even saying any of this. But he knows Richie wouldn’t offer any pity, just a willing ear to listen. “I just wish he wouldn't worry so much.”

“Show him that, then,” Richie says, and Eddie looks at him, not expecting to receive any kind of advice in return.

Or, Stan has been working longer shifts and Eddie just wants to be a supportive husband.

Read on Ao3

(hey everyone! I’ve finally finished this fic, thank god, so now I can share this adorably sweet pairing with y’all! sorry in advance for mistakes, I’ll be back to correct them (hopefully) so for now, enjoy!) xx

Eddie shifts around a bit until he’s comfortable against the frame of the door, peering down at the lecture taking place with a small smile.

The class itself was a rather large one, at least twice as big as his own. It was an impressive feat, keeping the attention of all of these students sitting straight in their uncomfortable wooden seats, pens scribbling and fingers typing away.

Even after years of working together and watching each other teach hundreds of times, it still manages to light a fire of pride in Eddie’s chest as he looks down at his husband – the professor of this particular course – as he runs through the principles of financial accounting. Never before had Eddie thought anyone could keep him focused and interested in a topic like this, but as he watches Stan move about at the bottom of the room, poised movements and calculated speech, Eddie is sure he wouldn’t mind listening to this for the rest of his life.

There was only 10 minutes left until this class would be dismissed, so Eddie had decided to wait for Stan by his classroom before heading out to lunch together, all the while enjoying the view for all it has to offer. And Stan, never wanting to drag things out, recited the studies to be completed by next lesson before ending the class at exactly 12 on the dot.

Students begin piling out of the room so Eddie steps out of the frame of the door, checking his emails on his phone in the hallway until it was safe to try and step back inside. Two girls walk past him before he can, and it’s hard to ignore the tail end of their conversation.

“God, I know Professor Uris is married, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy staring at him for the entire hour,” one gushes as she turns to her friend.

“That’s a fucking mood,” the other one agrees and lets out a dramatic groan.

Eddie watches them go and can’t do anything else but laugh under his breath. He descends the steps of the classroom before finally reaching the bottom, watching as Stan begins to shut down the power-point presentation he had set up minutes before.

“Hey handsome,” Eddie greets, unable to help himself.

Stan’s head snaps up and then a gentle smile appears, but he doesn’t leave the laptop yet until he’s done. “Were you spying on me again?”

The tone is playfully teasing, Eddie can tell. So he turns around and takes a seat at the front, hands clasped in front of him as he stares ahead. “Can you blame me? I think you’d be voted the ‘Hottest Professor’ on this campus if a poll ever takes place.”

Stan gives him a funny look as he finally closes the laptop with a ‘click’. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, nothing,” Eddie says, dusting away some loose crumbs on the desk. “I just overheard some of your fans in the hallway.”

Stan raises an eyebrow that’s mostly obscured by the frame of his glasses. Eddie swears he’s never seen glasses look sexier on anyone. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Well believe it, gorgeous,” Eddie smiles up at him and bats his eyelashes. “Now, dazzle me with your accounting charm. Woo me, oh great lecturer.”

“Didn’t you want to walk over to that Vietnamese place for lunch? The queue piles up quickly there. We should hurry.”

“You take the fun out of everything,” Eddie says with a pout.

Stan stares at him for a moment before walking over and leaning down so they’re now eye level. Eddie performs a kissing motion. Stan shakes his head slowly, gaze now hooded.

“You know what happens to students who don’t behave?” Stan asks, moving in until his lips are by Eddie’s ear. “They get punished.”

A pleasant shiver runs down his neck and along Eddie’s arms, and before he can retaliate, Stan is moving away and over to collect his messenger bag.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Eddie takes a few seconds to calm down the heat coursing through him before following after his husband, muttering “Tease,” under his breath.

“Man, if there was ever a ‘Hottest Professor’ vote taken on campus, I’d totally bag the crown,” Richie says the next day while he’s waiting for his coffee to brew. Eddie had only just mentioned in passing that he thinks Stan would win, so of course Richie had to share his opinion. “Plus, students love a professor who can joke around with them.”

“I guess graciousness wouldn’t make an appearance in your ruling, then,” Eddie says, making sure to get both chicken and lettuce when he stabs at the salad in front of him.

“I’d be more worried about the attention getting to his head,” Mike grins from over on the couches. “Students could probably just bat their eyelashes at him and he’d give them a passing grade.”

“Hey, no,” Richie objects, spilling some sugar on the counter as his hands flail about. “How dare you. I follow the proper guides to grading, just like everyone else.”

“Yeah, otherwise Beverly would probably have your ass fired,” Eddie says around a mouthful of food.

“Oh, she can fire my ass in more ways than one,” Richie winks, and Ben throws a stress ball at him from across the room.

“Gross,” Eddie mutters.

“Besides, you and Stan the Man blow each other’s chucks every other night, of course you’re biased,” Richie continues, sliding into the seat opposite Eddie as he mimes a blowjob.

Eddie narrows his eyes. “I didn’t need a visual, thanks.”

“I’ll have to object to that, Rich,” Mike says. “Stan is a very attractive gentleman.”

“I think Richard here is just jealous I’m actually getting some every week,” Eddie says through a smirk, and Ben makes an ‘ooo’ sound.

“Now, now children,” Mike scolds, but there’s a smile playing at his lips as he shakes his head. “We’re all adults here, remember?”

“What have I missed now?” comes Stan’s voice as he steps into the staff lounge.

“Well, I’m glad you asked Stanny—” Richie starts.

“No.”

“But—”

“No.” Stan repeats.

“Unfair,” Richie almost pouts. Sometimes Eddie really does wonder how he got a job as a professor. “Married couples should not work together. You guys get an advantage over the rest of us. Tag teamers.” He whispers the last part.

“You don’t have to be married to gang up on someone,” Ben interjects.

“Clearly,” Richie fakes offence.

Stan walks over to take the seat next to Eddie, pulling out an identical salad. He’d made it up for the both of them this morning – something about needing to use up the chicken before it went bad.

“Aw, look at that,” Richie nods and grins down at their food.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Richie wants to get married,” Stan muses, setting out his lunch until it’s neatly presented on the table. Eddie looks to Richie with a quirked brow.

“Hey, don’t get me wrong, I love love,” Richie says, and they hear Ben chuckle from behind them. “But as you said before, you don’t need to be married to share something with someone, including salad.”

“I’ll share a salad with you, buddy,” Mike says to Richie sympathetically.

Richie reaches out a hand to him dramatically. “Bless your heart, Mikey, you’re my only hoe.”

Mike gives him some finger guns before Ben’s cutting in with a question to distract them. Eddie never quite knows how the lunch hour they share at work continuously manages to stay this manic, but it’s always a nice break in between class after class and numbly grading more papers than he can count sometimes.

Early on in their relationship, Eddie found out Stan has this unique ability to calm him down, to some degree. During days where he gets too stressed about work, Stan was always there with some words of advice, or to give him a massage with his skilled hands. Even just having his husband sitting next to him was enough for Eddie to slump down in his chair and rest his head on Stan’s shoulder.

Stan’s left hand reaches down to squeeze Eddie’s thigh gently. “Hey,” he murmurs into the side of Eddie’s face. “I have to work late again tonight. Sorry I’ll have miss dinner.”

Eddie turns his head to meet his eyes, offering up a smile. “That’s alright. I can heat some up for you when you get home?”

“Sounds good,” Stan says and kisses his temple.

“Hey, if Stan’s not going to join you, I’ll happily eat whatever food you make, Eds,” Richie says, obviously having eavesdropped. “It makes me sad, thinking about you eating alone.”

“Richie, you eat alone almost every night,” Stan deadpans.

“By choice,” Richie says.

“I know,” Ben calls over to them. “We should sign Rich up for The Bachelor.”

“Ugh, that biphobic garbage? No thanks,” Richie laughs.

“Come on Ben, you should know better,” Mike says.

“Sorry, sorry,” Ben says and holds his hands up.

“Maybe I’ll make my own show,” Richie starts, standing up slowly as his eyes grow wide. “I’ll call it Dicked in Paradise. All of the contestants have to walk around in a banana costume – no fancy dress here. And instead of a ceremonial rose, you get a dildo.”

“That man has a PhD,” Stan whispers, as if a small part of him is dying. Eddie can’t help but laugh into his shoulder.

At the sound of rapping on the door, Eddie places the knife back down on the chopping board and curiously walks over to open it.

“Oh my God,” Eddie lets out a small laugh when he sees who it is. “You were serious when you said you were coming over to eat our food?”

“Serious as a heart attack, Spaghetti Man,” Richie says and sidesteps Eddie into his apartment, carrying a six-pack with him. Eddie is used to it at this point and closes the door after him. “So, what are we having?”

Together they spend the next hour drinking Richie’s beers as they slowly prepare all of the ingredients for a Thai green curry. Although, there was less preparation involved and more drinking, since any time Richie tried to help out with cutting up the vegetables Eddie would freak out, convinced Richie was going to hurt himself and get blood all over the counter.

“I’m not that incompetent with a knife you know,” Richie insists, though he lets Eddie take the knife away anyway and reaches for his drink again.

“And yet you’re over here stealing our dinner instead of making your own.”

“Touché,” Richie grins.

“How you and Bill manage survive by yourselves is beyond me,” Eddie says, sliding the vegetables into the large pan simmering away. “I’m glad you’re his neighbour or else I’m sure he wouldn’t remember to dress himself half the time.”

“Hey, don’t be knocking our swanky bachelor pads,” Richie says, and Eddie mouths ‘swanky’ with a shake of his head. “We’re totally competent people and perfectly happy the way things are. Oh—” Richie waves his hand at the food. “Can I take home a serve for Bill?”

“You’re both ridiculous.”

When the food is ready, Richie piles up a massive serve before moving out to the lounge room to eat. Typically, Eddie and Stan eat together at the table, so it’s always a bizarre feeling to change spots. But he settles down comfortably on the couch as Richie asks if they can have Seinfeld play on in the background.

“What’s Stan the Man doing anyway?” Richie asks around a mouthful of food.

Eddie plays with his rice as he answers, “Helping out Cindy with her overflow. I think they only have a week’s worth of paperwork left.”

“He’s a trooper, that one,” Richie says, attention briefly torn when the screen shows Kramer as he drops hundreds of nickels on the counter to pay for his food.

“It’s been stressing him out a bit, and I know he feels bad about not being home as often,” Eddie continues, not sure why he’s even saying any of this. But he knows Richie wouldn’t offer any pity, just a willing ear to listen. “I just wish he wouldn’t worry so much.”

“Show him that, then,” Richie says, and Eddie looks at him, not expecting to receive any kind of advice in return.

“How do you mean?”

“Just, like—” Richie starts, shifting around on the cushions and making a small noise. “Next time he’s home, do, like, fancy shit for him. Don’t tell him not to worry – prove that there’s no need for him too. Dress up nice or take him out for a night on the town or buy a new sex toy, whatever. The future is yours, my friend.”

“Thanks,” Eddie deadpans.

“Eds, I know he’s been missing you, too. Lord knows I hear it often enough,” Richie mumbles with a fond eye-roll.

Eddie feels his chest bloom with warmth, and decides to take Richie’s advice. He’ll treat Stan to a full day of delicacies and hopefully, if it all goes well, they can both forget about work for one night and spend it together instead.

Eddie begins his plan by starting small.

For the remaining week where Stan will be working later most days, Eddie does things for his husband in ways that aren’t too extravagant, but enough to show he cares and that he supports him. Thanks to Eddie’s class being considerably smaller, and also having two sub teachers helping him with his students, he managed to wrap up the bulk of his work two weeks previous.

So Eddie uses his free time to continue cooking meals for them at home, testing out a few different recipes from a vegetarian cookbook Mike had gotten Stan for Christmas last year. Two of them had been great successes, and Stan promised to cook them again for them both one night.

Eddie goes out one evening to purchase some new bed sheets he’s had his eye on for a couple of months now. By the time he’s changed them over and Stan stumbles home, dead on his feet, Eddie drags him off to bed, tucking him underneath the covers and smiling at the surprised but pleased look Stan throws at him.

He even indulges Stan in the morning when Eddie feels his arousal press into his lower back, rutting against him ever so softly in the early light of the morning. During times like this at work, they tend to forget about pleasuring each other, simply being too busy. But Eddie can’t deny Stan this, missing it just as much, and goes down on him before they hop on over to share a quick shower.

In the six years they’ve been together, and married for two, Eddie has learned a lot about what it takes to make a commitment work. He knows being bitter towards Stan’s dedication to work would only end in them both being frustrated and upset, so he stays as understanding as he can. He’d been hesitant, in the beginning of their relationship, to go for what he really wanted. But Stan always proves to him, in his own way, how much he loves Eddie for who he is, patiently waiting for Eddie to come to terms with their developing coupling. They compliment each other in ways Eddie’s never experienced with another partner, and while they do have their arguments, Eddie’s never felt more confident in a relationship before.

The journey was never stopping, and he knew he was ready to stick around until the end.

And finally, on the Saturday after Stan had officially completed his work, Eddie makes no move to wake them both up, instead taking the opportunity to doze, drifting in and out of sleep as he watches Stan softly lying next to him. It was as if a weight was lifted off both of them, and Eddie plans to utilise this freedom to its fullest.

Eventually, once he’s feeling more awake, he slips out of bed and over to the bathroom. He cleans himself up, sloshing around a decent amount of mouthwash before combing through his curls. When he walks back out, Stan has moved onto his back, hands clasped behind his head and eyes shut. Eddie sinks back onto the mattress and shimmies over to Stan, running a hand delicately over his chest.

“Morning,” Stan murmurs, curling an arm around Eddie to bring him in closer. He opens his eyes and smiles softly. “What’s that I hear? A whole day, uninterrupted, to spend with my husband? Surely not…”

Eddie smiles back, cupping both sides of Stan’s face and leaning down to kiss him, gentle and slow, before pulling back with a wet sound. “You better believe it.”

“We definitely don’t have any commitments today?” Stan checks. Eddie shakes his head, having previously made sure to keep this day open.

“To start, I thought we could make breakfast together,” Eddie suggests, now running his fingers through the curls behind Stan’s ears.

“Sure,” Stan says, caressing one of Eddie’s wrists. “I’m making my coffee Irish today. I think I need it.”

Eddie laughs quietly before leaning down to kiss him again.

“I think you might have a coffee addiction,” Stan muses, holding the door open as Eddie steps out of the bustling Starbucks.

“My love for coffee is perfectly average,” Eddie says, handing over one grande cup to Stan as they continue down the path. “Not my fault you asked for tea.”

Stan smiles before taking a light sip of his hot drink. Today is a beautiful spring day, and Eddie couldn’t be more glad for it. He’d spent last night preparing everything before Stan got home, checking the weather to make sure there wouldn’t be any light showers the next day.

He reaches out to twine their fingers together, and Stan squeezes back, swinging their hands between them slightly.

“So, where are you taking me?” Stan asks.

After their breakfast adventures that morning they had lazed about on the couch, doing the crossword together. Though Eddie spent most of his time kissing along Stan’s neck to distract him, and eventually it paid off when Stan got up to drag them both back to the bedroom. It had been hard to drag Stan into the shower and out of the apartment after that, but Eddie had promised it would be worth it.

“Well,” Eddie starts, side-eyeing him. “What do you think I have in my bag?”

Stan turns to look at it, as if just realising it’s there. “I have no idea. Tap shoes? Overdue library books? More whiskey so I can I make my tea Irish too?”

Eddie frowns at him funny. “I brought a picnic lunch for us.”

“Ah, so close,” Stan says, and Eddie bumps their hips together lightly.

They walk along through the city streets, basking in the feeling of not having the layer up anymore in the crisp winter air. The sun feels nice against Eddie’s skin, and as they’re waiting to cross at some lights he performs another checklist in his head to make sure he’s remembered everything. They make their way to the outer city limits where the botanical garden’s is located. There are couples and families everywhere, all enjoying the day for what it is, and Eddie pulls Stan around until they’re found a spot not yet overrun by people.

Eddie sets his backpack down and retrieves a blanket, laying it out messily until Stan ends up straightening it out. They settle down, partially shaded by the tree above, and Eddie carefully removes all of the foods he brought along with them.

“I won’t be needing dinner after this meal,” Stan laughs as he eyes the large spread before them.

“I wanted to be over prepared today,” Eddie says, somewhat bashfully. When he looks up, Stan is watching him closely, and without another word, leans over to kiss Eddie softly.

“Thank you.”

Eddie smiles. “You’re welcome, handsome.”

“Ah, I knew you just married me for my good looks,” Stan teases, resting on his elbow as he reaches out to grab one of the egg salad sandwiches Eddie made up.

“Yup,” Eddie says, taking the other sandwich half and biting into it. “You’re my trophy husband for sure.”

“For you baby, I’ll be anything,” Stan says and hums contently, and Eddie is still surprised when he feels his cheeks flush slightly.

With his feet being exposed to the sun Eddie ends up slipping off his stuffy shoes after about 20 minutes, and Stan, cheekily acting as if it were botanical garden visiting protocol, does the same. The sky was mostly void of clouds, but there is a nice breeze blowing by that helped with some of the heat. At one point, a soccer ball landed near them and Eddie, never wanting to miss an opportunity, attempts to kick it back to the kids but ends up narrowly missing the pond featurette.

“If your aim was to get it as far away from the kids as possible then you did it, honey,” Stan teases when Eddie returns.

“Funny,” Eddie says and throws a single grape at him.

“Don’t waste grapes,” Stan whispers.

Eddie waggles his eyebrows and grabs an entire bunch, standing again and backing up a few steps, challenging. “I bet I can get ten in my mouth – in a row.”

“That’s childs play,” Stan says through squinted eyes, taking the bet. “The usual wager?”

“Bring it.”

When they were out of grapes and couldn’t possibly eat any more food, Eddie stops them both and suggests they catch up on their reading, eager to finish off a book he’s two thirds in.

“I didn’t bring my glasses, though,” Stan points out until Eddie grabs them from his bag along with Stan’s bookmarked George Shearing autobiography. “My, you sure do think of everything.”

Eddie smiles smugly before they both make themselves comfortable on the rug, with Stan’s head resting in Eddie’s lap so he can run his fingers through Stan’s hair. Eddie notices it’s getting to that almost-too-long stage, but figures another week or so won’t hurt him as he twirls a long curl around his finger.

It isn’t until later that Eddie finds he had fallen asleep, his own glasses askew on his face as he wakes up to Stan smiling behind his phone as he finishes snapping a picture of him.

“Ugh, I hate you,” Eddie grumbles.

“I think we should come here more often,” Stan says with a grin.

When they make it back to their apartment an hour later Eddie knows he should probably start putting all of the leftover food away and rinse out the containers, but it’s to no shock that his body is desperately crying out for a nice bubble bath and some red instead. But then, if he’s being even more honest, all he really wants is to head to the bedroom to clock in some much needed time to reacquaint himself with Stan’s hands and legs and chest and his everything.

“Thank you for that lovely Eddie-cation,” Stan murmurs into Eddie’s temple.

Eddie smiles, shifting one hand up and under Stan’s shirt as the other runs lightly over Stan’s collarbone. Stan’s hands have found their own way to Eddie’s hips as he draws their bodies together, foreheads bumping as Eddie whispers, “I won that bet, remember?”

“I remember,” Stan nods, now cupping Eddie’s face as he angles it, leaning down to seal their lips together.

Eddie makes a small noise, their tongues meeting languidly, indulging in letting Stan take the lead for one moment before he manages to tear himself away to suck in a deep breath. He backs up, fingers slipping into the gaps between Stan’s shirt buttons as they shuffle towards the bedroom.

“Today is about you, baby,” Eddie says, licking his lips. “I’m taking the lead, so you just sit back and enjoy the ride, okay?”

Stan grins, and the sound of clothes shedding begins.

Mind dizzy on endorphins and heartbeat loud in his ears, Eddie slips out of Stan before collapsing on the bed, loving the feeling of their new, cool sheets against his hot skin. Stan flops next to him, breathing in quick, little pants as they wait to calm down.

“So,” Eddie groans, rolling onto his side to face Stan properly. “Did you have a nice day?”

Stan laughs, a touch disbelieving. “It was amazing, yes. Thank you.”

“I’m glad,” Eddie breathes, eyes slipping shut.

“Not sure what I did to deserve it, but… thank you,” Stan says, quieter.

Eddie peaks at him through one open eye. “You’ve been working so hard these past few weeks, don’t think I haven’t noticed. I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

“With this kind of reward? Watch my motivation skyrocket,” Stan says.

Eddie throws him a well deserved eye-roll before his thoughts drift back to when they arrived home. “I think I want my dinner tonight to just be a bottle of red. What do you think?”

“I think you may be onto something there,” Stan says, and even though they really need to shower, Eddie makes time for one more long, lazy kiss shared between lovestruck smiles.

#steddie #eddie kaspbrak #stanley uris #my fics #such a great pairing #i hope the 6 shippers that like them enjoy this aha!#hopefully they get more love!#also husbands are my weakness #guilty

71 notes · View notes