#AND YOU CERTAINLY DID NOT DO ALL 6 OF THEM STRAIGHT THROUGH LIKE WE DO NOW | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thedeviltohisangel · 1 month

Text

All The Things I Did (6): They Say All's Well That Ends Well

a/n: greetings! some sweet morning after pillow talk, meeting col. harding and hypocrites in love coming your way this lovely evening. next chapter is gearing up to be a big one so I hope you guys enjoy a bit of cass' fallible side (which I would love to discuss more) in this way before she badasses her way through Berlin. I might have a secret Easter suprise up my sleeve so stay tuned. as usual, inbox is open for all our little blurb screaming we've doing and I have a Spook x Bucky playlist I am thinking of sharing if you guys are interested. Let me know your thoughts on this chapter, xoxo

When Cass finally stirred against his chest, pressing kisses against his heart and blinking slowly, John saw a flash of his future. Waking up with her in his arms. Watching the sunrise and kiss across her face gently. Getting to admire her wild hair and sleep warmed cheeks and the lazy smile that settled across her face as she got her first sight of him.

“Good morning,” she whispered as she stroked her fingers through his hair and obliged his puckered lips request for a kiss. “Have you been up for awhile?” John reached for his pants on the floor, producing a cigarette.

“No. Was just admiring the view.” She plucked the lighter from his hand and brought it to his lips for him. “I’ve got to meet that goddamn CO first thing tomorrow.”

“Baby, it is tomorrow,” she giggled. His knuckles traced across her cheek lovingly.

“You’re so smart.” Cass rolled her eyes but kissed him again regardless. “You got any intel for me?” Her chin rested on his chest and his fingers tangled into her hair.

“I met him in London before I got here. I think you two will get along. He’s a good pilot. Likes to have a fun time.” She kept out the specifics of his flirting and propositioning. No need to ruin the moment or start them off on the wrong footing. “Has a certain Clark Gable nature to him.”

“Oh? Is that your type, Miss Cooper?”

“My town is full of Rhett Butler’s. Didn’t have the best of luck with any of them.” Sadness flickered behind her eyes, maybe even hurt, and John wanted to throttle whoever was responsible. Cass lifted his wrist to look at his watch and groaned when she saw they would have to return to the real world soon. “I want to stay just like this. Forever.”

“After all this is over,” he brushed his thumb over her lips, “we can. We will.”

“You’ll come to my room when your day is over?” There was no reason a little slice of forever couldn’t start now. Besides, neither of them thought they would be able to sleep alone again after they had learned the solace of sleeping in the arms of each other. He inhaled his cigarette deeply.

“Counting down the seconds.”

----

He couldn’t stop fidgeting with the buttons of his jacket as Colonel Harding was flipping through the file in front of him. John had driven Cass to her room, taking his time to bid her farewell, before heading straight to his meeting. Still drunk on whiskey or her, he wasn’t quite sure, but either way he was having trouble staying focused.

“You hungover, Major?”

“No, sir. That won’t come for a few more hours.” He wondered what Cass was doing right now. Certainly something more interesting. Certainly was looking beautiful while doing it.

“Colonel Huglin didn’t think too much of your skills as an Air Exec.”

“Well, I didn’t think too much of-” John paused as a black and white photo fell from between the papers and onto his desk. It looked like Cass. His Cass. Except she wasn’t in her uniform. It looked like she was in a satin dress with diamonds framing her face. Something settled in the pit of his stomach.

“Too much of his flying?” John met his gaze, entirely focused now. “Well, I’m not Colonel Huglin.”

“No. You’re not.” Harding followed his gaze down to the photograph and smiled.

“You’re familiar with Lieutenant Cooper?” He was looking at her wistfully and John’s fingers were twitching to snatch it from him. No other man should be looking at her like that besides him.

“She’s quite the officer, sir. We’ve all been nothing but impressed by her work.”

“She’s something, alright.” He tucked the photo away but John’s rage didn’t go away with it. His skin was hot and prickly. A base instinct to protect and preserve percolating at the surface. He was afraid if he opened his mouth, Gale’s upside down letter would be for nothing. There was a knock on the door which distracted him from his plotting thoughts for a moment. “In fact, that should be her.”

Cass’ head poked around the door and if she was surprised to see John, she didn’t show it. To be fair, more often than not, her face didn’t give away much.

“Colonel. Major.” The door clicked softly behind her and John felt the whiskey from a few hours ago stir in his stomach as Harding stood in deference to her, motioning towards the chair to the Major’s left. “Sir, I was just hoping to discuss Berlin with you. Very briefly.”

“Berlin?” John couldn’t keep it in. Why on earth would she…oh.

“Lieutenant Cooper has been selected for a prestigious opportunity,” he offered around the cigar that was now in his mouth.

“Prestigious may not be-”

“Cassandra-” And God, if she didn’t cringe herself as the familiar use of her full name whipped across John and onto her. “-I’ve heard about your work even before I got here. Seen it up close myself if you haven’t forgotten. You’re the right officer for the job.” Cass thinks she could feel John’s nostril flaring. Thinks the arm of the chair might break under his grip. Was surprised the tapping of his toes hadn’t worn a hole in the floor. She should have known he was the jealous type.

“Lieutenant,” John emphasized her rank as he stood, “Colonel. I should go check on a few things before the day really starts.” And because he can’t help himself around her, and because he needed to let Harding know she was off limits, he kissed her cheek. “Come find me when you’re done.” Cass was frozen with her beating cheeks on full display as John adjusted his hat and disappeared out the door.

“I thought you didn’t like pilots.”

“That’s a bit reductive, Colonel.” Her eyes drifted to the handwritten letter at the top of his pile. “Was I too late for the demotion ceremony?” He nodded.

“Major Egan is back to being a squadron commander, effectively immediately.” Colonel Harding had greeted him with the news. John had been elated. “But you wanted to talk about Berlin.” Cass nodded around the lump in her throat. She had come to tender her declination of the operation. It wasn’t worth the risk. Not when she was this close to having John in her life permanently. Not when she could have him on her arm when she went back to South Carolina. Not when he was so close to silencing those voices in her head.

“Actually, there’s nothing left to talk about. I’m grateful for the opportunity.” If he didn’t care, then why should she? What was the point of her safety if he had no regards for his own?

“Alright, then. I’ll leave you to your preparations.” She was resolved when she exited. Felt silly for even considering turning it down. Since when had she ever let a stupid boy navigate her life? Except John wasn’t just some stupid boy that had her dreaming of white picket fences and church on Sundays and sharing a lemonade on the back porch. John was a man and he was the man she was in love with. Why couldn’t it just be that simple?

----

“Well, there he is. I didn’t see you last night or this morning,” Gale said with a smile. “Thought maybe we’d lost you.” John hummed as he sat across from him and asked for a cup of coffee.

“I spent the night with Spook.”

“Did you now?” Gale thinks John looked like the cat that caught the canary. He could use his own deductive reasoning to figure out what the night entailed. “And?” He was asking if there had been any developments. If hearts had been laid bare and understandings had been reached.

“And I’m still certain I’m in love with her. Same as I was yesterday when you asked me.”

“She say the same when you told her?”

“Wouldn’t let me tell her,” he sighed, “told me if I said it and something happened to her on her next assignment, she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself.”

“Must be hard to finally be rebuked by a beautiful woman.” John rolled his eyes, knowing Gale was loving every moment of his plight. Finally, finally, Gale was able to witness John Egan unsure of his footing. The man who had no trouble flying a plane and dropping bombs and could dance with anyone or sing in a crowded social club. His best friend had met his match and he couldn’t be more elated to have the chance to witness it.

“New CO thinks she’s beautiful, too.”

“And how did that come up?” he asked around a bite of his breakfast.

“A picture of her fell out of a folder he was reading. Wasn’t her official photo, she wasn’t in uniform. Looked like she was all dolled up for something…” His voice faded towards the end as he remembered the way she had looked. It was akin to the feeling he had when she showed up in her red dress. Absolute adoration and curiosity at the image of her southern society side when he knew the other side so intimately well. The side that had a ring dish of bullets on her dresser. “He looked at her the way I would. I didn’t like it.”

“Now, what was it Cass said about the word like…”

“I detested it. Better?” Gale nodded his approval then caught a glance of the woman in question over John’s shoulder.

“Was she this upset when you left her this morning?”

“Upset?” He furrowed his brow and looked behind him to see what he was talking about. Her face was blank as she walked purposefully towards their table. John assumed it was something he did, he had a habit of fucking up, but damn if she didn’t look elegantly gorgeous stalking towards him like that.

“You were up early this morning, Major Cleven.” John felt a shred of relief. “I can read upside down. Helping this one get himself demoted?” So maybe it was about John.

“You got demoted?” Kidd chimed in from his spot at the end of table. “To what?”

“Squadron Commander. 418th. Sorry, Kidd.”

“That’s fine. As long as I get my fort back.”

“About that…”

“You son of a bitch. I’m Air Exec?” Cass chuckled dryly.

“You’re brimming with good news today, John.” Ah. So he did do something.

“Me getting back to flying is good news, Cass. I don’t know why that would upset you.” Gale held his breath. He wished he could coach John through this. Don’t question, try to understand. But Spook was a force to be reckoned with. He was happy to just spectate.

“I’m not upset. I’m…” She was struggling to find the word. The right word. Worried. Scared. Anxious. Her feelings encompassed all of it. There was no right word for the dread that she was feeling. Forever. Pulled right out from under her.

“I’m not upset about Berlin.”

“Well, maybe you should be.” Gale was half tempted to put a hand on John’s shoulder when he cocked an eyebrow and leaned towards her. Cass had crossed her arms over her chest defensively and the temperature was rising. He wished these two would stop using their brains to talk around their thoughts and feelings and just simply say them.

“And why’s that? Your job makes you happy. Leaves you with fulfillment. And you're goddamn good at it so why would I be upset?” God, her own reasons sounded so hollow in her mind. Sounded selfish and childish. Why wasn’t he raging at her? Fighting her to stand down. She knew how to handle that. How to fight back. This she did not know how to handle.

“Because it’s dangerous.” There it was. She was mad he was back in danger. Why didn’t she just say that?

“Then I just gotta trust you’ll come back to me, don’t I?” Gale crooked a smile but hid it quickly. “Just like how you have to trust that I’ll come back to you.” Truthfully, it would take an act of God to keep him from her. But trust was something she had been programmed to avoid in her line of work.

“Trust,” she echoed with a defeated laugh.

“You know, Cass, if this whole thing ended and there were only two pilots left in the sky, it’d be me and it’d be Buck. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Don’t count on it,” Gale muttered as he slipped a toothpick between his lips. She was ready to make a comment about the level of trust Gale’s comment would instill in her when she caught a glimpse of Mary walking into the mess hall.

“Hi, Mary!” John greeted her happily. He had a soft spot in his chest for the secretary. She was the gatekeeper between him and Cass’ billet most mornings and, on occasion, his source of base gossip while he waited with his bouquet of flowers.

“Major Egan, I didn’t see you this morning.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” John answered with a grin, “Lieutenant Cooper kept me preoccupied.”

“Ignore this helion, Mary. Did word from Mr. Foster arrive yet?”

“Another secret admirer?” he asked with an annoyed tone. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Cass had admirers falling out of the woodwork. He couldn’t blame them. He just wanted to know how many he would be competing with.

“Partner,” she replied stoically.

“He just landed actually, ma’am. Was coming to get you before I went to welcome him.”

“Thank you, Mary. I’ll be right there.” John took her hand from where it was crossed over her chest and brought it to his lips.

“Am I still allowed to come find you when my day’s over?” He was really asking if she was angry enough over his decision to keep him at arm’s length. If he had undone all the goodwill they had built up. If last night now meant nothing at all to her.

“You can’t expect me to sleep by myself, Major.” Not when William’s arrival meant she would be leaving in the morning. Not when she knew the 100th was going to take another run at Norway soon. Not when Gale was looking at her with a message behind his eyes that the only way for Bucky to make it through this was for her to be at his side.

John stood and met her halfway in a kiss, savoring her proximity for just a moment longer until he pulled away. “Make sure Mary knows I’m sorry about this morning.”

“I will. Try to stay out of trouble the rest of the day. Keep an eye on him, Buck.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Cass let her fingers linger on John’s cheek before forcing herself to walk in the direction Mary had gone.

“What do you think, Buck? I make a mistake asking for that demotion?” He turned back towards his friend. Maybe he should have stayed Air Exec, stayed safe, just like Cass had said. Maybe he should have said something about her going to Berlin.

“You’re a born leader, John. The men need you no matter if that’s here or up there.”

“But, what if I need her? What if flying gets in the way of that?”

“Nothing could get in the way of the love you have for that girl, John.” The way Gale saw it, John hadn’t just been sent here to lead their boys through this, but to find Cass. To find his sense of purpose. His north star through all the fog.

“Nothing except a fucking world war,” he muttered as he reached into his pocket for a cigarette.

Maybe if he was flying, he could end this thing sooner. Maybe he could save her from whatever fate had her so rattled. If he could get them that future they wanted even a moment sooner, it would all be worth it. To have her safely in his arms away from bombs and secrets and the destruction that they both brought with them.

But first she was going to Berlin and he was going to Norway and they were both fighting for that little future. A little future tucked away with green grass and sunshine and the laughter of the ones you love.

Neither of them knew how much more blood would need to be shed to get there. How much pain the universe had in store for them. That their paths would separate and bring them back together many times over before they earned their peace.

For now, John would settle for making it through tomorrow.

#masters of the air #john egan #callum turner #mota #masters of the air fanfiction #john egan fanfiction #callum turner fanfiction #mota fanfiction #masters of the air fanfic #john egan fanfic #callum turner fanfic #mota fanfic #john egan x oc #john egan x reader #cass and bucky

80 notes · View notes

nanamikentoseyebags · 9 months

Text

You're once in any lifetime

will you be mine for eternity?

pairing: satoru gojo x gn!reader

content: fluff, comfort, kisses and jokes, proposal, snippets of domestic life with the strongest

a/n: dear anon, thank you so much for this wonderful request i've been giggling the entire time while working on it! hope you like it 💛

6 hours. 6 hours of non-stop shopping, winding through narrow streets and searching for something interesting, beautiful and delicious. In that exact order. That was the usual weekend routine for Gojo Satoru, aka the World's Strongest, aka a little kid who apparently had one main dream in life: to buy up everything that caught his eye.

It was supposed to be a quiet and peaceful Sunday morning, that rare moment when one could behold a truly great wonder –sleeping Satoru, wrapped in a green fuzzy blanket, with his snow-white hair tousled, his eyelashes fluttering slightly, and a trickle of saliva from his open mouth that had already dripped onto the pillow. Not everyone was lucky enough to see him in his own habitat, appearing so defenseless and vulnerable, like a red-listed animal in need of protection and care. He never lost the opportunity to remind you that you were the lucky one to wake up to see such a marvelous sight in front of you as him.

But today the day didn't start so wonderfully, or to be more precise, not it the slightest so: being literally torn out of the realm of sleep by his icy hands, which shamelessly encircled your ankles and were eagerly pulling you off the bed with an unprecedented force for the defenseless and vulnerable, you cried out in surprise feeling the coldness that came over your body in a wave.

"Satoru!" you managed to grab the headboard at the last moment, and now you were trying to wrench your leg from his icy grasp, "what the hell are you doing?!"

"I'm waking you up," a pearly white smile shone on the face of the unscrupulous intruder of your sleep, "time to get up, sleepyhead, otherwise we'll sleep through all the fun," sky-blue eyes glimmered with lights of mischief and in a second his fingers were already tickling your feet.

You squealed, yanking your legs furiously, desperately hoping to get out of his tenacious grip and kick him so he'd never think of waking you up like that ever again. Well, the plan worked. To your own surprise the Strongest was defeated by a precise kick of your heel right in his ribs, and making the sound of a dying whale, he jumped up from the bed, holding his side.

"Did you take karate classes while I was away?" he exhaled, rubbing the injured spot.

"Yeah, got my black belt for just such occasions," you finally sat up on the bed, tucking your legs under the blanket and smoothing back your sleep-tangled hair, "and what fun could we possibly have slept through, huh?"

Satoru's painful grimace was immediately replaced by his usual bright smile, as if he hadn't been pretending to be a wounded warrior a second ago, "shopping!" echoed loudly throughout the apartment, making you cringe.

"Well what is the fun in that," you mumbled, rubbing your eyes and stretching, "my dreams were quite fun until you disturbed them."

"Don't be so booooring," he sang, "besides, everything's already waiting for you" Satoru pulled out two hangers from behind his back, on which two prepared and ironed outfits for today were waiting in the wings. Looking at his beaming face, it was hard to tell him no, and he knew it perfectly well.

And for 6 hours straight, you looped through ornate streets decorated with colorful storefronts, filled with hundreds of people rushing about their business. You could barely feel your feet, somewhere in the back of your mind regretting that you had agreed to this adventure at all, knowing that Satoru certainly wouldn't get tired until he found the very sweets he remembered nothing about but had once tasted somewhere.

To be honest, you had other plans that required a more relaxed and peaceful ambience, but the sheer joy of Satoru put all thoughts on the back burner, replacing them with a pleasant tingle in your chest that made your heart beat faster every time he turned his ruffled, snow-white head to make sure you were holding on tightly to his big hand with your little fingers as he led you through the crowd of people.

Such small but so meaningful details never passed you by, and each time you were convinced that you could never have found a better man than this tall, annoying, but so beloved dummy.

"'Wanna get some cotton candy, sweets?" Gojo led you out onto a less crowded street, now walking beside you and swinging your intertwined hands.

"I would love some,"you smiled, nodding, inwardly pleased that the shopping seemed to be coming to an end.

"Gimme a sec," you walked over to a small wagon where he bought a huge cotton candy bar, so huge that it completely covered your face as you began to chew it, "fank you," you murmured, savouring the sweetness on your tongue.

"You're felcome," he mimicked you, nibbling off a couple bits and putting them in his mouth, making you giggle and nudge him lightly with your shoulder.

You wandered quietly along the embankment, listening to the sound of the gentle waves, feeling the breeze lightly ruffling your hair. You were silent, genuinely enjoying each other's company, talking only with your eyes and smiling involuntarily, as if these six years that you had been together had never happened and you both had just met. The sun was slowly slipping toward sunset, letting itself stare at you at least a little longer, gently stroking your smiling faces with its golden rays. You stopped at the small fence separating the promenade from the water and quietly watched the sky sink into the boundless embrace of the sea, merging into a one pastel-colored expanse, going far, far away, to a place where we had never been.

"Look," a sudden loud voice snapped you out of your thoughts, making you flinch and turn in the direction Satoru was pointing his finger at.

"What's there?" you squinted, looking into the distance and trying to see anything, "I don't..." you turned back, seeing a sight that rendered you speechless.

Satoru was on one knee, his glasses no longer covering his magical eyes that were darting across your surprised face, but resting on his head, in his large palm lay a velvet box with a neat ring adorned with little stones shimmering in the light of the setting sun.

"Y/n..." something that sounded like a quiet croak escaped his lips, causing him to cough, his already flushed cheeks turning scarlet before he continued, "will you marry me?"

You covered your mouth with your hand, struggling to hold back the laughter that burst out of you.

"What are you doing?" Satoru tilted his head, "are you laughing at me?" he gasped, pretending to be hurt by your reaction, "when I'm kneeling here in front of you?"

"No, no, no, no," you shook your head, clearing your throat softly and pulling a small velvet box out of your purse, "I thought you wouldn't ask, so... uh...," you laughed harder, seeing his already large eyes widen.

"So, will you marry me, Satoru gojo," you uttered, trying to calm down and holding out a delicate golden band.

"I think so," he grinned, graciously holding out his hand so you could slip the ring onto his finger, "and what will your decision be, dear Y/n"

"More likely yes than no" you giggled, feeling the pleasant coldness of the gold metal on your finger at the same second.

Satoru reached up, pulling you closer to him and with the loudest mwah possible, smacking your lips, "looks like you're stuck with me for eternity, sweets," he smirked contentedly, taking your face in his hands and pinching your cheeks.

"Looks like it, but I'm ashamed to admit it, I don't seem to mind," you giggled, poking his nose and engaging him in the most tender kiss, promising for eternity with every movement of your lips.

thank you so much for reading 💛 comments and reblogs are always appreciated ✨

tags: @rossithepixie @a-nuisance-called-sam @the-mom-friend-dot-com @vagabond-umlaut

#gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #satoru x reader #jjk satoru #gojo satoru fluff #satoru fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo imagine #gojo drabbles

206 notes · View notes

rollinouttahere-writes · 1 month

Note

Crocodile gets this from an annoyance (Spandam)

You know what? Here, have a drabble. First fic using Lizard's official name.

No one in Impel Down got visitors, that's a given. Especially not someone left to rot in level 6, a level that even other prisoners didn't know existed. That's why Crocodile laughed when he was informed he had a visitor, having assumed it was a joke. The guard kept a straight face and said that the visitor would be there shortly, then left.

That certainly intrigued Crocodile and the other prisoners that had overheard the exchange. It didn't take long for the news that there was going to be a visitor to spread through out the entire block. Speculations about who it could be bounced between the cells, and the prisoners closest to him asked if he knew who it was. Crocodile shrugged off their questions. He genuinely had no clue. All he could do was wait for his visitor to arrive.

A door could be heard unlocking and opening down the hall, and Crocodile knew that that must be whoever has come down here to see him. His cell was around a corner, so he couldn't see who it was yet, but he could hear.

He could hear an onslaught of taunts and mockery coming from the other prisoners. Whoever this was appeared to be well known amongst these people, and most certainly not liked.

When the mystery visitor finally turned the corner, Crocodile had more questions than answers. Some battered, swollen man in a full body brace was being pushed towards him in a wheelchair. That definitely wasn't what he had been expecting to see.

The prisoner in the cell across from him started laughing hysterically. "Holy hell, Spandam?! And here I thought your mug couldn't get any uglier!" More prisoners joined in on the laughter, visibly elated to see this Spandam character in his sorry state. Crocodile had no idea who this man was, though he can recall hearing the name thrown around a few times.

Spandam is brought to a halt in front of Crocodile's cell. The ex-warlord smirked down at the weak looking man before him. He walked up to the bars and slid his hand and hook through them, grinning when he saw Spandam deliberately wheel himself back a bit when he saw the gleaming hook.

"Leave." The order was barked at the guards accompanying Spandam.

They looked at him incredulously, "Sir, this is Level 6, we can't just-"

"I said leave! I want to speak to him alone!" For such a thoroughly beaten man, he had a surprising amount of bark to him.

The guards hesitated, but eventually sighed and left, looking downright relieved to get away from him. Crocodile stared down at Spandam, curious as to what business he had with him.

"You!" The man seethed.

Crocodile chuckled, "What about me?"

"Your daughter!" That certainly caught his attention. "That little monster attacked me!"

For a moment, everything was silent. Crocodile took in Spandam's appearance, then laughed. Hard. Harder than he has in a long time. When he finally calmed down, he responded to the insane claim, "Sure she did. And I'm here because the Marines defeated me." He chuckled again, finding the bold-faced lie amusing.

Spandam's face turned red in rage, "She did!" He reached into his mouth and ripped out a bridge, "That crazy bitch kicked out my teeth and bit my fingers off!" The hand clutching the bridge only had three fingers, the pinky and ring finger absent.

Crocodile sneered at him, not caring for hearing this pathetic whelp call his daughter such a thing. "Nubia catches insects and gives them to her body guards to release outside because she can't stand to kill them, and you want me to believe she did that? If you're going to lie, at least make it believable."

The wheelchair inched closer to the cell as Spandam tried to act tough and yell. "I am a World Government official! I'm the chief of CP9! You can't even begin to comprehend the power I have!"

"And yet you couldn't fend off a little girl!" A prisoner called out from down the block, making many of the others laugh.

Spandam was practically foaming at the mouth. He turned his head as much as he could with his brace and casts and scowled at the offending prisoner. Then he looked back at Crocodile with a maniacal grin. He wheeled himself even closer to the cell, "You know why I came down here? I wanted to tell you in person that when I get my hands on that girl again, I'm going to make the rest of her life a living hell! She'll be begging for me to kill her whe-"

His words are cut off when Crocodile lunges forward. His hook sank into Spandam's shoulder and yanked him closer, and his hand locked around his throat to prevent him from screaming and alerting the guards. Murmurs of excitement echoed down the block as every prison clamber to watch the entertaining spectacle.

Crocodile glowered at the idiot before him, squeezing his neck harder and relishing in the panicked thrashing and gurgling sounds coming out of him. He spoke slowly but firmly, making sure that this fool would hear every word.

"If you so much as look at her, I'll rip your eyes out with my hook. If you breathe the same air as her, I'll eviscerate you, and if you ever touch her," Crocodile squeezed his neck tighter and dug the hook in deeper, "I will kill you."

With that, Crocodile released Spandam, making sure to do as much damage as possible when he tore his hook out. The scream that he let out once he could breathe again was ear-piercing and caught the attention of the guards. Despite the blood still dripping from his hook, they said nothing to Crocodile and just focused on removing the shrieking man from the block.

Everyone was cheering Crocodile on, happy to see him tear into the CP9 Chief. Crocodile didn't register any of their words as he stared at his blood soaked hook. His daughter was specifically being targeted by some very powerful people.

He needed to get out of here, and fast. And when he did, Spandam was going to be his first victim.

#strays au #crocodad series #crocodad3 #sir crocodile #spandam

38 notes · View notes

folkwitchofthewest · 8 months

Text

Dancing in the Rain

Hi all! I'm back! This is a fluffy fic inspired by my first date with my dearly departed fiance. It went something similar to this, lol. Hope you enjoy! Happy reading!

Word count: 2,387

Warnings: None, other than tooth rotting fluff!

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

Everything was perfect at last. Donatello took a step back to admire his hard work.

The rooftop looked gorgeous. The flames of the cream colored candles that were carefully placed around the roof swayed in a mesmerizing dance, red rose petals scattered about, his playlist of all your favorite love songs was waiting at his command to start playing.

The warm, romantic, glowing atmosphere he had meticulously put together was exactly what he wanted for your anniversary. You and Donnie had been dating for 1 year. 1 year 6 hours, 13 minutes, and 52 seconds exactly he mentally calculated. 1 year ago today he had asked you to be his girlfriend. He shuddered when he thought of how he had stumbled over his words, and his face felt like the surface of the sun that night. Not that he had become any better at expressing himself, but conversation had become much easier. Your interactions were no longer awkward, and stiff thankfully. They had become comfortable, almost instinctual.

He wanted this night to be special, you deserve nothing less than perfection. So he spent months collecting data on how to make this night something thus far you had only seen in your dreams.

Pride swelled in his chest as he looked over his handy work again. The sound of a door closing and light footsteps behind him brought Donnie out of his reverie. He couldn’t help but grin. Time to give you a night you would never forget. He quickly made his way over to the roof accessible stairway door to intercept you. His little surprise was set up on the opposite side of the roof, and he intended to keep it a surprise until he was ready.

“Good evening, my dear,” Donnie greeted you.

“Good evening, and happy anniversary,” you replied.

“Happy anniversary,” he said, handing you a large bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“Oh Dee, they’re beautiful, and my favorite color too! Thank you,” you said, breathing in the sweet smell,” They smell lovely.”

“I am thrilled you like them. However that is not the only thing I have in store for the evening,” he beamed at you.

“Is that so?” you asked, a smile gracing your lips.

“It is! Close your eyes,” Donnie instructed.

“Pray tell, how am I to see what your surprise is, or even reach it if my eyes are closed?” you challenged him playfully.

You squealed as your ever so chivalrous boyfriend scooped you up into his arms bridal style, before placing a kiss on your temple. You wrapped your arms around his neck, eyes going wide in surprise at the unexpected touch.

“Like this,” he whispered, his warm breath tickling your ear,” Close your eyes, love.”

You laughed and did as you were told, putting all your trust in Donatello not to accidentally drop you.

Ahhhh, that sweet, wonderful, laugh was music to his ears.

You rested your head against his plastron, relishing in the rare physical contact. Your genius didn’t often show his love for you through touch or words, but when he did you soaked it all in like a sponge. The patter of his feet suddenly stopped and he set you down gently. His hands shifted to your shoulders, and he moved to your side.

“You can open them now,” he muttered in your ear.

You once again obeyed, and were left breathless by the sight that met your eyes. You drank it in, the candles, the petals, the soft music playing in the background.

“What do you think?” He asked, the slightest bit anxious.

“Tello, I don’t know what to say. It’s beautiful,” you whispered, completely in awe,” You did all this just for me?’

“Of course. I wanted this to be perfect, like something straight out of your dreams,” Donnie replied.

“You certainly did not disappoint,” you cooed.

“Come on then. We both love to dance, I could not think of a better way to spend the night,” he grinned.

Donnie was nearly vibrating with giddiness as he led you over to his candle lit dance floor.

He took a moment to take in your appearance. You wore your favorite outfit, the one he knew made you feel confident and beautiful. This time though you donned his signature royal purple. It was a subtle detail but it still made his heart flutter that you would put thought into something on that small a scale, just for him. You were stunning.

“May I have the pleasure of this dance, my queen?” he asked, bowing deeply, while extending one hand to you.

“Of course, my king,” you giggled, accepting his hand, and giving a mock curtsey.

The familiar feeling of your hand in his made butterflies rise in your stomach, still after all this time. His free arm wrapped around your waist, and yours draped across his shoulders; pulling you together in the typical ballroom position.

You both drifted elegantly across the roof to the slow, romantic, violin music. The cool evening breeze blew through your hair, and your collective laughter filled the cloudy night sky. You danced together for what felt like hours, though in truth it was no more than 45 minutes. The conversation soon turned to the familiar playful jabs and light teasing you 2 were known for.

The witty banter between the 2 of you was something you both thoroughly enjoyed, he the stimulation you provided, and you the challenge he presented. You intrigued him, you always had. Though when you first met, Donnie saw you as an annoyance, a fascinating one, but an annoyance nonetheless. You had been an insufferable distraction introduced to his tediously created world by his brothers, and April. Slowly though his intrigue became fondness as he got to know you more deeply. And fondness became affection. While he did not understand these feelings, and they scared him, he wanted nothing more than to explore them with you.

You had been determined from the word go to charm your way past Donnie’s defenses. He was like no one you had ever met, and you wanted to see who he truly was behind his emotionally unavailable bad boy image he so flawlessly maintained.

Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined falling for him, and he doing the same for you.

Donnie was your biggest crush, your first love, and first serious boyfriend. Sure you had dated a couple guys in your highschool years so far, but none of them gave you butterflies the way Donnie did.

You could only hope that ridiculous saying wasn’t true, and that some things would last forever.

So caught up in your own private piece of heaven you both failed to notice how the air had grown heavy, and the wind had picked up. A sudden drop of water landing rather unceremoniously on your nose startled you both. Another landed on Donatello. Another fell on the wick of one of the candles, extinguishing the flame with a sizzle. And then another fell, and another, and another, and another until the sky let loose a torrential downpour.

No! It wasn’t supposed to rain for several more hours! Donnie had planned for you both to be back at your respective homes long before it started. He had planned all this, calculated it down to the second. How could he have screwed it up so badly?!

He scurried over to the stairwell access, flinging the door open, and stepping inside to hide from the obnoxiously large droplets. He looked out over the rooftop, feeling utterly gutted as the music came to an abrupt halt. His surprise for you was ruined. You would surely be disappointed.

Only you didn’t seem disappointed at all. You stood smiling, laughing, as the last of the orange candle light flickered out, surrounded by the water. You hadn’t run to find shelter like he had. No, instead you twirled about in the rain, its drumming sound the beat you followed and swayed to.

“Tello! Come dance with me!” You called, a smile so vibrant on your lips it could light up the entire city.

“In the rain?” His absolutely astonished voice rang across the roof, slightly higher in pitch than normal.

“In the rain!” You beamed at him, holding out a hand.

Your hair was a dripping wet mess, your clothes clung to you in a way that would surely be uncomfortable later, and droplets of the cool liquid rolled off your face. Yet Donnie thought you couldn’t look more beautiful. Well, if a dance in the rain was what his queen desired, who was he to deny her that wish?

A grin spread across his face as he stepped out of his safe haven, shivering a bit as the cold rain hit his skin, and made his way to you. He grasped your hand tightly, and spun you into him. Your eyes widened and a laugh escaped your lips as he did.

“As you wish, my dear,” he grinned down at you, admiration and devotion shining in his eyes,” Play All of Me by John Legend.”

The song began to play softly in the background as you swayed with each other. The city's lights glittered around you both like a thousand diamonds, though its beauty could not compare to you in the slightest in his heart.

You pulled a strand of hair away from where it was clinging to your jaw, and giggled. Slightly embarrassed you tilted your face downwards, jeez, what was your boyfriend going to think of your appearance?

“I’m sure I look like a drowned rat,” you smiled, flinging the invading strand over your shoulder.

“Trust me, you are much prettier than Papa after being the unfortunate victim of one of Mikey’s water balloon attacks,” Donnie joked, lifting your chin so your eyes met his.

“Awww, Dee I’m flattered! You really think I’m pretty?” a mischievous grin creeping onto your lips.

“You look perfect,” Donnie mumbled under his breath.

“You’re pretty handsome yourself, Donatello,” you cooed.

“You heard that?!” Donnie nearly shrieked, his cheeks flushing in horror,” I didn’t mean for you to hear…”

This time it was his turn to bow his head in utter humiliation. You sighed and gently shook your head at him. Smiling lovingly, your boyfriend was the most adorable thing in the world to you. It wasn’t often he became flustered, and you took great pride in being one of the few people who could elicit this kind of reaction from him. You slowly moved your hands to rest on either side of his face, careful not to startle the purple clad turtle, and gently pulled his face up so he was looking you in the eyes.

“Donnie, you don’t have to pretend your feelings don’t exist, or bury them so deep they will never see the light of day. I know you aren’t good with expressing your emotions, but I need you to know the last thing I want you to do is hide yourself from me. This is a safe space, so when you’re ready please share what you’re thinking and feeling. No judgment here, I promise. Please don’t be ashamed. Just like the song says, ‘All of me loves all of you. All your perfect imperfections. Give your all to me, I’ll give my all to you.’ We’re a team, darling. You and me forever, so please stop hiding yourself from me,” your eyes looked deep into his.

He searched them for a moment. You kept those beautiful irises soft, like an open book, just for him. Adoration and tenderness swirled in them, adoration and tenderness you only held for him.

He sighed and smiled softly, lovingly, in a way only you could make him smile.

“Being in love with you is the most natural thing in the world, it’s like breathing. And you, you loved me even when I could not love myself. You showed me what romantic love truly is. And for that I shall be forever grateful, my dear. These things I feel for you are….terrifying, but I cannot think of anyone I would rather feel them for. I trust you, feel completely safe with you. And just when I think these feelings cannot run any deeper, they do. I’ve neve felt so……captivated by someone before. I have cherished every moment of the last year. I - I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he paused before taking a deep breath, his arms wrapping around your waist a little tighter, and his face inched closer to yours,” And I….I love you, Y/N.”

Your breath caught in your throat. He had never opened up this much when it came to his feelings for you. This was the first time he said he loved you.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your lips brushing against his.

Donnie suddenly closed the distance between the 2 of you, his lips pressed against yours, and a 3 fingered hand tangling itself in the wet strands of your hair. Fireworks went off in your mind, and your heart felt as though it was going to explode. Eyes wide, you stood frozen for a moment before melting into his touch. This was everything you could have ever dreamed of for your first kiss. For a time, everything was perfect. Pure unadulterated ecstasy ran through your veins as you relished in the soft touch of his lips on yours. The kiss seemed to last forever and you were both disappointed when you had to break apart for air as your lungs began to burn.

Neither of you could seem to find your words after you parted, so you settled for simply wrapping your arms around him, and burying your face in the crook of his neck as you both began to gently sway again. All of Me was still softly playing in the background. You knew from now one you would always associate tonight with the tune, and more than likely it would be deemed your song. It was perfect, the lyrics fit your relationship so well. All of this was magical.

Well, if Donnie wanted to give you a fairytale evening, he had absolutely succeeded. This was better than anything you could have dreamed of, and you would be dreaming of it for the rest of your life.

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise!donnie x reader #save rise of the tmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise donnie #fluff #dancing in the rain

68 notes · View notes

stitchlingbelle · 4 months

Text

Watching Halo, Episode 6

We kick off with the immediate aftermath of the battle, and they do a good job of showing the human cost here—my baby Kai screaming in pain, the long, long lines of the injured and dead being carried into the base. The Master Chief claims that he’s fine and Cortana tells him he’s full of shit, which I appreciated. Makee is unconscious—sedated? I assume she couldn’t just sleep through this—and speaking Sangheili (I finally looked up how to spell it).

As everyone but Halsey is off the ship, Master Chief locks her in and gets TALKY as he threatens to murder her. I’m not gonna lie, I adored this scene. There have been throwaway lines about the Spartans’ intelligence, but this is the first time we really see Master Chief show off his specialist knowledge and problem-solving skills. He’s positively chatty in a very unnerving way as he explains how Halsey will die—if Cortana doesn’t take over his body and stop him, which she doesn’t. He doesn’t go through with killing Halsey (unfortunately, though I very uncharitably enjoyed listening to her panicked screams. A+ acting). I’m not entirely convinced that his test actually proved what he wanted it to—we know Cortana is programmed to take him over completely if needed. Is her access to that function still blocked by Halsey, or did Cortana choose not to use it? If it’s still blocked, was Halsey unable or unwilling to give that access in time to save herself? (She, or her clone, has already shown herself willing to die for her vision if necessary.) Chief seems to assume Cortana would do anything to save Halsey because she’s her creator—but is that true? What does Cortana want?

Makee, like the sledgehammer she is, is going straight past subtle and demanding to speak to the Master Chief and no one else to give up Covenant secrets. How does she even know who he is, gang? If this weren’t a 9-episode season I would have enjoyed them screwing with her by trotting out every other Master Chief in the UNSC before finally letting her talk to John, but we gotta keep things moving, instead. His tough-guy act lasts all of thirty seconds before she drops the term “blessed one” and he crumbles. If she’s so important, Chief, how did she get away? (Also, did she have star charts memorized as a kid and access to nav data as a prisoner? How does she know what the human name of this star system is? I know, if she didn’t we wouldn’t have a show, blah blah blah.) She also gets a cool new human outfit this episode, which I assume is a standard-issue thing, but appears conveniently fashionable, well-fitted, and cleavage-revealing.

Meanwhile, there’s politics and the brass backstabbing each other because their brainwashing & slavery program isn’t running as smoothly as they hoped. (No one reads history OR scifi around here.) (Are the Spartans even paid? What do they spend it on? They need a union.) Consequences are catching up to Halsey in the form of some sort of interrogation (mar dhea, as we say in Irish—as if! I’m certain she’ll wriggle out somehow). Aaaand John interrupts thirty seconds in, which is probably not how the military or the law usually works and in the real world would almost certainly be enough to get her off scot-free, to question her while Parangosky and Keyes watch virtually. “He’s going to think we’re complicit!”/ “Margaret, we ARE complicit!” made me laugh in a very dark way. Miranda slips in at one point, too.

Villain monologue! I have to say, I HATE this sort of villain more than any other. Humanity is too violent, so I, supergenius, had the ~unprecedented~ idea to make a group that’s even MORE violent! No one’s ever thought of that before! Babe, you just reinvented the military and cops, except now they have bigger guns and less connection to their home communities. When we say in PoliSci that one of the definitions of a state is “the entity that maintains a monopoly on violence”, this is literally what we mean. So other groups are now incentivized to create their own Spartan programs to compete with you, or some other arms-race solution? (And this is leaving out all the child abuse, fascism, and “who decides?” of deploying a hyperviolent solution.) Dear Halsey, your ideas are unoriginal, inefficient, do not scale well, and are ultimately ineffective. Please see me after class.

Speaking of the child abuse, holy God, the rest of her explanation was truly horrific. Flash clone kids, created just to die in pain? That’s just sick.

I feel for Miranda, who just got her entire vision of her mother as anything other than a monster ripped from her, and I appreciate that her response isn’t to make it about herself, it’s to offer sympathy to John and then snap to when he asks her for help. How much of this is also a revelation for Cortana, given that she keeps saying that Spartan records don’t exist? Whether she knew and is having that knowledge recontextualized, or whether she’s hearing all this for the first time, she’s about to have choices to make herself. John wonders how much control Cortana has over him, and I’m over here wondering how much control Halsey has over her. The other person who gets to learn all of this is poor Kai, who gets the less-than-comforting reassurance from Master Chief that they’re still Spartans, and the even-less-comforting words, “Get better, 125. I’m gonna need you.”

Back with Halsey, she faces her first-ever consequences when Parangosky reassigns her and has her kicked out, giving her lab, the Spartans, and the artifact over to Miranda. I still don’t trust it will last, but it’s nice to see her outmaneuvered at least once. (Referring to John’s very real anger and anguish as “theatrics” and laughing over the idea that anyone could possibly arrest her? Someone push her into a volcano. Preferably right after she watches Miranda comes up with some brilliant breakthrough that leaves everything she did in the dust, and more, shows it for the flawed bullshit it is.) (Can you tell I am starting to REALLY dislike this woman.)

Miranda gets the lab, which is stark and huge with giant screens, much more glamorous than her previous cluttered, normal-monitor-filled premises. Nice set design there. I’m not sure if she realizes it’s also her invitation to become as complicit as her parents. (The Spartan program is being questioned, but if it’s not shut down, how do you get more Spartans? How will she justify keeping those pellets in the other Spartans’ backs? Or is she about to start a little rebellion of her own?) But of course, her access is immediately compromised by her mom demanding to see her. *insert Admiral Ackbar gif here*

It absolutely is a trap, as expected. I assumed it would be a bug planted on Miranda to take back to the lab, but it seems Halsey used a high-tech contact lens to copy her daughter’s retinal data. 1. I am surprised she didn’t have that already, weirdo that she is, and 2. This is why biometric data is a disaster. It sounds super fancy and science fiction-y and unhackable, but the problem isn’t your body being hackable, it’s the MACHINE being hackable. It doesn’t know where the data is coming from, just that it IS the correct data, and you can change your passwords BUT YOU CAN’T CHANGE YOUR EYEBALLS.

Ahem. Meanwhile, in terms of character work, Halsey pulls this all off by pretending to get emotional, but does it in such a weird and off-putting way that it’s believable for her. I have so many questions about this woman. Why and how did she even end up with Keyes? Why did she even HAVE a kid? (Oh god, she didn’t originally have Miranda for the Spartan program, did she? Is that why she’s so hostile towards her, because she washed out and is therefore ‘flawed’?) Telling Miranda “I’m sorry that you’re upset that I’m a sociopath” was a hell of a move.

Eventually Cortana breaks through to Halsey (who is debuting her new line of loungewear, incidentally). Interesting that Halsey takes credit for Adun’s work. Cortana, you really, really need to consider your life choices right now…

Meanwhile, there’s some drama around finding the planet Makee told them about, which gives me a bit more of the worldbuilding—they’re using telescopes to find it, not relying on previous charting missions or sending a ship in person. Humanity is still limited in its explorations and knowledge of the greater galaxy. (Could they find friendly aliens at some point? Allies against the Covenant?)

The doubt is enough to send Master Chief and Miranda running to the artifact, fortunately not with Makee in tow just yet. (John’s level of suspicion is pleasantly surprising.) Clearly Kai’s humanizing of the team worked, because Miranda is obviously worried about John as a person as they argue over him touching the artifact again. Halsey, Adun, and Cortana all watch as John nearly fries his brain—and Makee’s as she goes into an instantaneous, identical medical crisis. He inevitably remembers her words and is able to accept the power and suddenly they’re both having a vision of a ring planet of some kind. Aaand it immediately turns into a “We See Each Other” moment. Of course it does.

#halo tv show

28 notes · View notes

min-kit · 14 days

Note

Also u prob covered this but what’s ur take that Tommy is gonna help buck realize his deep hidden feelings for Eddie?? (This comes from people who thinks 7.06 is Tommy’s last episode)

I haven't covered it (I'm only just now starting to get asks like this wow how did that happen. I haven't posted on tumblr in YEARS haha), but, honest answer ?????

I don't think its going to happen. I FULLY hung up the possibility of buddie ever happening at the end of s6 & think Buck realizing hidden feelings for Eddie is basically a confirmation at this point that they'd go in that direction. And I genuinely don't believe they're going to go in that direction. If what Lou said is true (& not misinterpreted) & Tim originally had the idea for this storyline with Eddie but it became Buck's story... that actually just screams more to me they only want one of them to be queer??

I wouldn't be mad about it if it's done right by any means, certainly! I just. Knowing how these networks work, and how Buck being made canon bisexual is literally making history cuz this is just not a thing shows do this far into the series, do I REALLY believe they're gonna go even further and give both Buck and Eddie coming out & queer self-discovery stories? No. I think they want to keep one of them for the straight men and women that watch this show (you know, those ones that just want someone to thirst over & imagine getting with/live vicariously through as they hook up with all the ladies which was the resounding issue most of them had with Buck being bi. I guess. Stupid reasons but there you have it).

I DO subscribe to the idea that Buck absolutely had feelings for Eddie in like s2... but he didn't realize that at the time & they eventually developed fully into friendship. And I don't think they would ever address that cuz, again, I think doing so would either

confirm that they're going the buddie route

be really really really mean towards the fans that are desperately hoping for buddie to happen cuz it'd be like "hey we see you, have this little crumb even tho we're not actually going there!" sort of thing.

Now, again, I could totally be wrong. Maybe one day I'll have to eat my words and if that day comes I will happily do it! Tho I'm personally now cheering on BuckTommy, it's not like I would hate the idea of Buddie happening, esp considering I hardcore shipped them since I started watching in s4. This is just my personal opinion based on experiences with other shows + looking at everything Tim, Ryan, & Oliver has said in interviews.

Nothing to me screams that they have that planned and, as someone who was there in seasons 4, 5, 6 for all the buddie theories and saw literally none of them come true. Well, I won't hold my breath this time. Cuz that hurt too much in s6.

#anon ask

15 notes · View notes

niobe-loreley · 9 months

Text

Heaven Is In A Shortcake {xvii}

AND NOW~ IT WAS TIME~ FOR TUMBLR TO DROWN IN THE SWEET SORROW OF THIS FIC'S 17TH CHAPTER

disclaimer: The Gray Man and the characters are NOT mine, even the reader. I only own the plot and the reader's character lol. Pictures used in the fic are NOT MINE, but only the edited version (u can msg me if u ze owner); credits to the rightful owners and canva + weheartit. Additionally, I am not a Subic/Zambales native, so my apologies for any wrong locations, descriptions, or languages.

Six x F!Reader / Courtland Gentry x Female Reader

warnings: moderate amount of swear words. some filipino dialogues. slow burn. fluff. trust issues. dramaramramamama. comedy if you use a magnifying glass. culture shock. word count check. slightly proofread/revised.

CHAPTER SELECTION IS IN THE ✨Masterlist✨ Chapter 16 was the icon Chapter 17 is the legend

word count: 3.9k (N/N) = nickname *Kiara = Clare *Kurt = Court *cover names = reader doesn't know YET (except you do know #wreckthe4thwall)

This has got to be kidnapping.

Yet how can it be when you're not even verbally struggling to escape?

The only physical binding you have is your sprained ankle. If you didn't have that, you can easily jump out of the car.

But you dare not anger Court any further. He might not let you leave them until you ripen of old age.

Would that be so bad, though?

You blush, sharply averting your gaze out the window as if it would throw the thought away. Being with Court and Claire in less than three hours for thrice a week should be enough for friends hanging out.

Right?

So, why are you wishing for more time?

Why are you always at the edge of your seat waiting for them?

Why is it always hard to watch them walk out of the cafe without you?

The answers are obvious. You just don't want to indulge them again, especially after what happened tonight.

"Home runnnn!" Claire shouts happily as she races through the garage. She certainly looked like she batted a ball out of the field, arms raised overhead, open-mouthed grin, and keys dangling noisily.

You and Court stay silent as Claire unlocks the door. He has you in his arms again, but you don't breathe a complaint this time.

"Want to take a bath, (N/N)?" Claire asks when the three of you entered the guestroom.

You nod. "Sure, that'd be grand."

Court gently sets you down on the bed. "Do you, um, need help?" he questions with a red face, "Taking a bath?"

You laugh. "I'm not that incapacitated, dude. Just get me a chair, towel, and clothes."

"Here's a towel!" Claire gets one from the closet and deposits it on the bed in a flash, "I'll go get a plastic chair!"

She's out of the room before either of you can blink.

"What a proactive teen," you comment amusedly before the silence becomes awkward.

Court snorts in agreement, looks at you for a few seconds, and turns away. "Hey, listen, you can borrow my clothes for the time being."

"Do you have my kind of underwear this time?" you tease.

"About the underwear.. we can buy some tomorrow morning." Court awkwardly rubs his nape, "There's a— what do you call this.. a small market at the park tomorrow. It's always there every Saturday, from 6 AM to 10 AM."

"A tiangge?"

"Yeah, that!"

"Alright, it'd probably be good for me to walk around tomorrow."

"Who says you'll be walking around?"

"Uh, I did?"

"No, you're staying in the car."

"What?"

"My house, my car, my rules."

You chuckle. "Court, seriously.. what are you doing? This is rather sweet and all, but you're lowkey scaring me." you swiftly add to ease his growing anxiety, "It's scary in a funny way, actually. But I'm getting worried that you're over-worrying about me."

He glances down at the floor. "Isn't this what friends do?" and peers at you with eyes so dubious it's as though he doesn't know the meaning of friends.

"Yeah, it is.. and I would do the same for you, it's just that…" you look straight into his eyes, "This kind of overworrying feels different. I can't help but think it feels different. This, us, we.. feel different. But I don't want to think it does, I want to know."

You're quick to realize what you just said, their weight and meaning, so you let out a loud laugh. Hopefully it will dispel your statements.

"Or maybe it's just me!— Me being silly ol' me," you snicker.

Yet Court is looking at you as though he understands the facade you're wearing.

"What's so funny?" Claire drags a monoblock chair into the room.

You shake your head. "I was just mimicking Flint Lockwood."

"You know Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs?!"

"Know it? I've watched it a hundred times!"

"There! Good as new!" Claire declares, satisfied.

After taking a bath, the father-daughter duo helped you with your wounds again. Claire has just finished bandaging your elbow. While Court went to get another compression bandage after leaving an ice pack on your ankle.

"Kiara.. may I ask you something?"

She snorts. "Of course. And no need to be all formal."

"How did you and Kurt find me?"

Claire freezes, the look on her face somewhat resembles a search engine loading continuously due to a weak internet. "Um, well.. we were going to invite you to watch a movie with us," she smiles sheepishly, "It's Friday. And it's been a while.

"Anyway, we knew you were going to Lillia's, so we turned around and drove to the hotel. We got there just as you were being chased."

You resist a shudder when you hear derisive howling in your ears. You wonder how long those guys will be in your mind, their laughs and hoots bouncing back and forth, reverberating your skull.

"I'm glad you two turned around," you smile at Claire with glassy eyes. "Thank you, Kiara."

She's stunned until tears brim her eyes. But Claire doesn't let them fall. "Don't just thank me. It's Six who beat their asses," she snickers.

"Who?" you ask.

"What?" Claire replies and freezes in realization.

"(Y/N), are you hungry?" Court inquires, sidling in the room.

"No, thank you." you glance at him from head to toe, "How about you? Didn't all that ass kicking got you starving?"

"Not really." Court sits on a chair at the edge of the bed. He takes off the ice pack from your ankle, which he towel-dries before he mindfully wraps a compression bandage around it.

He's too focused on your sprain while you're so engrossed watching him that neither of you notice Claire sneaking out of the room.

"Hey, can you come over here and hand me the ice pack?"

Court just finishes bandaging your sprain. Yet he wastes no time obliging you. This, again, neither of you notices.

"You found another welt on you?" he asks, sounding like he's half-joking (but he's not).

You snatch the ice pack from him and press it up against his left jaw. Court is monumentally unprepared for the "assault" that he winces in pain.

"Nope! Found a bruise on you, though." you say, snickering.

Court lets the astonishment wash over him. "You notice that?" he asks, somewhat amazed.

"At first, I thought it was a tattoo."

"Really?"

"No, I'm joking."

"Oh.."

You snort. "Doofus."

"Twerp," he fires back, flaring.

You double over, laughing. But you still have the ice pack steady on his jaw. "Sometimes you're a sore loser," you examine his face for any more injuries, but it's hard when he's scrunching it up to a scowl. "No, scratch that, you are one."

"And you're just infuriating. All. The. Time." he remarks with hardening emphasis.

"But you love me," you intone jokingly.

Court stares at you, astounded. And as the blood creep up his face, your laugh dies down in shame.

He knows you're joking, right?

You know you were joking.. right?

Sure, you like-like him, but you wouldn't call it love. Infatuation is more like it. Or stirrings, as Captain Jack Sparrow termed it.

Your inner self gives you an unimpressed look.

'Ok, fine.. feelings.'

Court calls your name.

"Huh? What?" you snap out of your stupor.

Court grabs the ice pack from you and off his jaw. "I asked if you want to call somebody." he says with genuine concern.

"Oh… I don't think I can talk to anybody about what happened just yet."

"Okay," he pauses, "Sorry.. I thought you'd feel better if you talked to Mindy. Or maybe Erick."

You chuckle. "I would if we were still dating."

Court blinks at you.

You elaborate. "I mean, we were only dating. He's not really my boyfriend in the first place."

"So… You two aren't dating anymore?" Court asks.

"That's right." you nod and pretend like your heart is not leaping up your throat because of what you plan to say next. "I told Erick I can't date him anymore because I realized I already like someone else. Even before him."

"So," he hums inquisitively, "You're dating this someone now?"

You shake your head, smiling sadly. "No, I haven't told him I like him yet."

He gulps. "Why is that?"

"Because after what happened tonight, as much as I want him to know.. I don't want him to think it's because he saved me."

Court is looking at you like you're a thousand-piece puzzle.

You blush. "I know I've liked this guy for a long while now. And I know this isn't the right time, but.. I'm idiotically still trying to tell him. That I like him."

Silence spreads to every corner of the room. And if it weren't for the crickets serenading outside, the silence would be awkward the way it should be.

Court is still saying nothing. He has his eyes on the floor and you have no idea what's going on in his mind.

Typically, you're that friend who advises their other friends to just say it— do it!— Don't ride the merry-go-around.

Yet here you are, dangling on one of the carousel horses as it spins for all eternity.

"You should get some rest." Court says finally.

"Huh?"

"I said, you should get some rest."

"Oh… That's what I thought you said."

He hauls out something from his jacket pocket. "Here.. the channel is all set," he nods at the walkie-talkie, "Keep it open and call me as soon as you need me— or anything."

"Sure," you grab the device absentmindedly. "Good night."

"Good night."

And then he leaves, shutting the door behind him.

You look at the transceiver, place it on the bedside drawer, and expel a hefty sigh. "Ang tanga mo talaga," you tell yourself, forcibly lying down. "Stupid, stupid, stupid! You should've just told him!— Why didn't you tell him? Oh right, because I'm an idiotic, no good, shit for brains, twat!"

A sharp twinge rises up your leg as a scratching pain erupts from the rest of your body. "Ow, ow, ow," you stop thrashing, slowly placing your sprained ankle atop the pillow it was on. You sigh exasperatedly, "I'm such a dumbass."

"You're such a dumbass!"

"Excuse me?" Court glares at Claire over his shoulder as they climb up the stairs.

She rolls her eyes. "Her message was as clear as the archipelago sun!"

"Whose?"

"(N/N), duh!"

He furrows his brows. "What message?"

She snaps her fingers. "And that's why you're such a dumbass."

"Fine. Whatever. Just get to bed."

"Fine! Let's all see how this stupidity between you and (N/N) plays out!"

Claire storms in her room and noisily shuts the door before Court can retort. He ponders what she's got to be mad about.

He takes a short bath, sets another set of clothes aside for you, and checks the house's security.

No one's after you three.

That's not just why Court suggested you stay with them for a few days. This is better than you staying all night at the cafe alone. And like hell he'll ever leave you alone after what happened tonight.

Court checks the handgun under his pillow as he looks at the guestroom's feed.

If someone did come after them, he'll have no choice but to take you with him and Claire.

Suddenly, he recalls what you said earlier as he lays on the bed.

"...as much as I want him to know.. I don't want him to think it's because he saved me."

You're not talking about him, right?

"I know I've liked this guy for a long while now—"

There's just no way, right?

"—And I know this isn't the right time, but.. I'm idiotically still trying to tell him. That I like him."

Court abruptly sits upright. "Fuck!" he breathes out, wishing he can do the same to the heat in his cheeks. "Don't do this to yourself, man. You're 100% uncertain."

Maybe you were just delirious from the trauma.

Yeah, that's plausible.

But also worrisome.

Court glances over to his desk, where the security feed is showing any events live inside, outside, and ten meters around the house. But he's focused on one feed: the guestroom.

You're fast asleep already. And how you're so unmoving sets paranoia ablaze in his veins.

He has the right to worry, right?

So, it's okay for him to switch on the guestroom's camera audio and cranks it up until he hears your breathing, right?

He puts on one earbud and doesn't dwell on the fact that what he's doing is downright creepy.

Setting up a tablet beside him on the bed, Court finds the security feed on the device. He then lies back down and tries closing his ends. Not after a minute, he ends up watching you on the screen.

'Hopeless..'

He ignores his demons snickering at him.

As he continues eyeing the security feed of the premises, particularly you, Court doesn't realize he fell asleep.

Until he hears you scream.

"NO! NO! STOP— PLEASE!"

Court practically becomes The Flash. He bolts down to the guestroom before his eyes can fully open.

He shouts your name as he bursts in the room. Opening the lights, he finds that you have no (external) attacker.

You're sitting down, yet you looked like you ran a marathon. "Hey, Kurt," you wipe the cold sweat off your brow. "I'm so sorry for waking you."

He stammers. "No. Not really, I.. I just got up to get some water."

You glance at the time, 1:35 AM. "Still, sorry for disturbing you and shit."

Court sighs. "Stop apologizing. How many times do I have to tell you?"

"Maybe 99 more to get it through my thick skull?"

"That's probably not enough."

You laugh, shaking your head, and you scratch behind your ear. "Did I wake Claire up, too?"

Court glances out the door when he hears footsteps. Claire carefully rounds the corner, armed with a handgun dipped towards the floor.

"No, she's still asleep." he blankly says as he turns back to you.

You heave a brow. "Why are you lying?"

Court is taken aback. Was he that obvious? No one can usually read him, not even Claire; although, Donald and Margaret used to.

"Oh, Claire!" you holler in a singsong voice.

The teen reluctantly peers in the room, hiding her weapon behind her. "H-Hiya," she smiles nervously.

You chuckle. "The two of you should get back to bed. I'm sorry for getting you out of there in the first place."

"It wasn't your fault you had a nightmare, (N/N)." says Claire. "Would—"

"Would you like some company?" Court asks just before the teen could. He looks at her in befuddlement, while she sneers maniacally at him.

"No, you two should rest." you give a small smile, "I'll be fine."

Except you didn't get to be.

For the past three hours, you've woken up from several nightmares. Only a few of them did you wake up screaming. Sometimes you can't even sleep immediately because it takes you back to the same bad dream.

It takes all of Court's might not to barge back in the guestroom, lay down next to you, and kick all those nightmares in the ass.

After your first nightmare, Court hasn't slept a wink. He returned to his room and watched you through the security feed. When you've had your second nightmare, he quickly sets up the sandbag in his room and starts whaling on it.

But there's only so much that he can take from hearing your cries. He tried muting your security feed, yet for some reason, it's worse than before.

So, Court has selfishly decided that you need someone with you tonight. Whether you like it or not.

He waited until you're back in deep sleep after a nightmare.

Without little to no sound, Court sneaks into the guestroom and places a chair beside the bed. And as he sits there, it just hits him that he doesn't know what the fuck to do. You'll probably have a heart attack when you wake up and find him staring at you.

How should he comfort you?

He pinches himself when the first thought he has is to get in bed with you. There's got to be another way other than that— it'll be the last resort.

You suddenly let out a grunt, stirring, and Court flinches, readying to flee. But you're still asleep. It's another nightmare.

Court spots your clenched fist and tightens his jaw. He looks at your grimacing face, and for some reason, it's similar to your concentrating face. Now, here's a thought: what if you're suppressing yourself for him and Claire? So that you won't wake them up because of your nightmares.

He chuckles in both disbelief and admiration. That'd truly be you. Even when you're having trouble, you're still looking after them.

Breathing in and out, Court takes your balled hand in both of his. He strokes your fist, tracing patterns on your skin until he feels your muscles release their contraction. Gently, he unfurls your tightened fingers and soothes them one by one.

Compared to his, your appendages are small and smooth. It astonishes him how a hard worker such as yourself has dainty hands. But he stands corrected when he feels a few callouses. Nevertheless, your hand fascinates him.

What would it feel like to hold both of your hands in his own?

The thought is cut short when he feels crescent marks on your palm. Court frowns at that and then at you. "Idiot.. stop taking on everything by yourself," he whispers and carefully holds your hand in both of his. "I'll be here for you, (Y/N). I am here. You just.. gotta see me."

For the second time tonight, Court has fallen asleep watching you.

And once again, you're the one to wake him. But not with a scream this time.

"Court," you softly call, tugging on his hands.

With his name like a feather on your lips, everything within him stirs wildly into life. But he doesn't show that effect you have on him.

He slowly rises from slumping on the bed. "Hey, sorry, did I scare you?" he blurts out with one eye still closed.

You chuckle. "No, you didn't."

"Get back to sleep. I'll just be here."

"Why don't you..?"

"Hm?" Court blinks at you curiously.

You fight back the blush, scoot further in the bed, and pat the space beside you. "I don't think you're comfortable there. Why don't you sleep here instead?"

He gulps. "Aren't you gonna ask me what I'm doing here first?"

"Will you answer me honestly? Or tell me to shut up and rest?" you question amusedly.

"Both?" he stifles a grin.

You shortly laugh before you tug him towards you. It doesn't take long for him to fold. Just you holding his hand is enough to make Court roll over for you.

He worriedly climbs in the bed—

"Oh, wait!"

"What?!"

"Let's switch."

".. Why?"

You redden. "I don't want you sleeping on my sweat, man! Understand?!"

He looks at you for a few seconds and sputters out a laugh. "Alright, fine," he says before you can chastise him for laughing. You scoot over as he rounds the bed, "There. Happy?"

"Very," you nod and settle down.

"Oh, wait!" he exclaims this time.

"What?!"

Court returns to his room to retrieve his clothes that you were going to wear later in the morning. "Change. You stink." he chucks them to you, sneering.

"Go away, then." you snarl.

"Like hell I would."

"Just turn around, moron!"

He obliges, snickering, and when he faces away from you, horrific realization strikes like vicious lightning across his chest.

You're undressing. With him still in the room. And it's just the two of you. Has he mentioned that you're currently undressing?

His demons are biting into the side of his neck, yanking at him to look over at you. This is bad. His self-control is losing a lot of blood.

"Need any help?"

Yup, that's significant blood loss right there.

"No, I got this. Thanks, Kurt."

After an eternity (minute) of suffering..

"Done!" you exhale, relieved.

And so did Court.

He rigidly gets in the bed without glancing at you. His self-control needs recharging, it doesn't help that you're half-an-arms length away. But even just a visual on you is lethal.

The two of you are staring at the ceiling. Until you turn your head to Court, just as he risks a glance at you. His self-control can't charge anymore.

You grin apologetically. "Sorry for keeping you up. Let's get some rest," and roll on your side, facing away from him. "Good night."

"Yeah, night." he replies, staring at your back.

Before horrendous thoughts can start invading his mind, Court notices something amusing.

He stifles a grin, his shirt is like a blanket on you. The way it hangs on you with too many folds screams that you're wearing an extremely baggy top. It'll never not be entertaining to have you in his clothes. What's more, only ⅓ of your feet are sticking out the hem of his joggers.

This time, Court doesn't fall asleep watching you. Because with you up close, he's granted visual acuity to scrutinize you evenly.

Your hair doesn't appear damp despite the cold sweat you're experiencing from the nightmares.

The curve of your shoulder somewhat displays tenacity and elegance simultaneously.

How can such a tiny body hold so much strength and carry such burdens?

Eventually, the nightmares are back. And Court is ready for them.

As soon as you're stirring abnormally and moaning in fear, Court props onto his elbow and carefully grabs your shoulder. He calls your name, shaking you gently.

You jolt awake, breathing heavily. "Court," you look at him, the fear in your wide eyes diminishing gradually. "Did I wake you?"

"No," says Court, steeling his resolve. "Come here."

You almost didn't understand what he said. Until he pulls you to him. And you move compliantly.

Court shimmies his arm under your head, while the other clutches your waist, pulling you closer until there's no space between your back and his chest.

You stifle a squeak when he slips a leg between yours. "Sorry," he says in your hair, "Just gotta get this.."

He clasps the edge of the pillow with his toes and carefully reels it. "Lift your left leg up," he tells you, and you oblige. He leaves the pillow between your legs and grabs the one you lifted. "You can put this down now."

He helps you in setting your sprained ankle down on the pillow.

"Good girl."

Oh, damn..

Thank the heavens you're not facing him right now. He'd probably mistake your face for a stove.

"No nightmare is getting to you now."

"Huh?"

You feel him moving his face against the back of your head.

"I said," he pauses, voice low, breaths fanning on your ear. "No nightmare is getting to you now. Because I'm protecting you."

Your heart finds it hard to go back to its place after cartwheeling up your throat. And when it's reminded of the position you and Court are presently in, your heart threatens to roll out your mouth.

"The nightmares are in my head, though." you chuckle, placing a hand on the arm you're resting your head on, you reach for his hand. "Thank you."

Court watches, with fireworks gleefully exploding in his chest, as you intertwine your hand with his. When the festivities calm down, he gives your hand a squeeze.

"You're always welcome, (Y/N)."

A/N: these chapters will be all FOR NOW~ I am continuing this fic y'all, albeit it'll be from time to time (ehem month to month huhuhuhu)

The door to Chapter 18 is blocked

✨TAGLIST✨

@kat-thepoet @queenofhellhasrisen @sierrasixswife @vallyb @lyuir @yvxcy @justareaderdude @sortingharryshairclip

53 notes · View notes

witch · 2 years

Text

(image descriptions in alt text)

sorry for the delay! 48 animals. 5 rounds. 3 brackets. 1 tournament to settle it all. here in Creacher Contest 2022, the greatest minds in the history of this website (and you!) will gather to decide once and for all who is tumblr’s favorite little scrimblo bimblo. you all voted in the first round. now begins round 2 to decide the creacher among creachers!

THE RESULTS AND THE ROUND 2 LINK (under the cut!)

CARD 1: Pikachu (winner!) vs. Stuart Little: with 286 votes against Stuart's 39, Pikachu has claimed the most overwhelming Round 1 victory with a whopping 88 percent! Does he have enough Z-Power to maintain this momentum in the coming matches? Stay tuned!

CARD 2: Tom & Jerry vs. Perry the Platypus (winner!): in a heinous act one can only describe as homophobic, Tom and his husband Jerry have been taken out of the game in Round 1 after accruing only 110 votes (33.8%) against Perry's 215 (66.2%). Reporters are calling this tragedy the worst thing to happen to gay people since my straight sister learned how to say 'yass'.

CARD 3: Kirby (winner!) vs. The Lorax: Our orange friend (56 votes, 17.2%) may have powerful connections here on Tumblr via the Onceler, but even those could not save him from the super tough pink puff. His current location is unknown and Kirby (269 votes, 82.8%) has been spotted with a yellow mustache. Call the police.

CARD 4: The Minions (winner!) vs. Talking Tom This match was a bit closer, but thanks to everyone's efforts, Talking Tom (133 votes, 40.9%) has been fucking sent to hell. Anyone else remember the schoolyard rumor that Talking Tom takes pictures of people through his eyes? Like sure the whole thing is probably some datamining thing but that's literally not how anything works??? How was this a rumor????? Ok anyways Minions win (192 votes, 59.1%)

CARD 5: Dog (Columbo) (winner!) vs. Dog (Good Omens): War is hell... but today in this dog-eat-dog world, one sleepy fucking hound (186 votes, 57.2%) rose to the occasion and proved himself to be a certified sloppy floppy. (note: do NOT confuse with 'sloppy toppy'. the resemblance is coincidental. all basset hounds are sloppy AND floppy. think Mr. J's signature 'sloppy style' and we will understand each other and then kiss.) I know nothing about Good Omens and have nothing to add for the other Dog, who admittedly did well in his own right with 139 votes, 42.8%.

CARD 6: Bond Forger vs. Gunter (winner!): I honestly thought this race would be closer, but that probably says more about me than them lol. Taking 67.1% of the card with 218 votes, Gunter has defeated Bond (107 votes, 32.9) in a victory for secret aliens everywhere.

CARD 7: Silkie vs. Waddles (winner!): As a Gen Z elder (lol) who watched Teen Titans reruns on Boomerang, Silkie (79 votes, 24.3%) had my vote. Did this poll reach a younger crowd than me, or is Waddles (246 votes, 75.7%) simply that powerful?

CARD 8: Temmie (winner!) vs. Puppycat: This matchup was super close! Temmie (176 votes, 54.2%) managed to beat Puppycat (149 votes, 45.8%), but there really was no clear winner until the end. This battle of what are basically two tbhs with animal features was certainly the most exciting!

CARD 9: Yoshi (winner!) vs. Chocobo: The only knowledge of Chocobos (98 votes, 30.2%) I have is from this stupid fucking Chocobo anthro art my friend used to spam my DMs with. I basically just needed a thematically similar animal to job to Yoshi (227 votes, 69.8%). Yoshi's Island DS was actually the first video game I physically owned as a kid, so he's kinda special to me lol

CARD 10: Little Buddy vs. Crab (winner!): I had personally predicted Crab's victory (231 votes, 71.1%), but not to such an extent! In only seven weeks. the release of Splatoon 3 (Splathreen) revitalized and expanded its title's fandom. However, it proved to be ineffective against the might of the humble crab, aka the only good thing Tumblr's done for April Fool's since the lizard election. RIP Wretched Tooth I miss you every day #wretchedtoothstandsfortruth

CARD 11: Mr. J (winner!) vs. Salem: L to Salem (114 votes, 35.1%), but you'll always hold a special place in my heart. Unfortunately, it won't be as special as the one reserved for Mr. J, Tumblr's favorite small cat and one of the few Tumblr famous bloggers I don't want to set adrift in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Now that that's out of the way: MR. J SWEEP COME ON EVERYONE VOTE FOR MR. J WE CAN DO IT

CARD 12: The Four Dark Devas of Destruction vs. Hamtaro (winner!): Once again, I haven't consumed either media here and have nothing to say on the matter. However, my friend was happy to hear that "the Danganronpa one lost". Part of me has to agree.

CARD 13: Toothless (winner!) vs. Stitch: Not only was this the closest match with Toothless at 167 votes (51.4%) and Stitch at 158 votes (48.6%), it was also the most controversial, yielding multiple complaints and one (1) death threat. While I sympathize and realize that putting two contenders as strong as Toothless and Stitch together in the first round may not have been the best move, I need everyone to understand that they have similar faces and must be grouped together for that. Thank you. Peace and love

CARD 14: Appa (winner!) vs. Lion: Did the ATLA fandom coordinate a move on this tournament? Because Appa (266 votes, 81.8%) beat Lion (59 votes, 18.2%) by a landslide! The representative of one of Tumblr's historically biggest fandoms losing like this surprised me, but if some sort of fandom participation really did occur, that makes me happy :)

CARD 15: Garfield (winner!) vs. Scooby-Doo: Report: After consuming no less than seven entire large pizzas, Scooby-Doo (149 votes, 45.8%) the dog was immediately rushed to the fucking vet. His owner, Shaggy was found similarly unresponsive. Sorry, Scooby: it was a close race, but nobody can beat Garfield (176 votes, 54.2%) in the art of eating Italian food and doing fuck all. Better luck next time!

CARD 16: Dimple vs. Moomin (winner!): Even after the coming and going of the Moomin (262 votes, 80.6%) fandom directly on my dashboard, all I can fucking think of is that gif of a blob of white mochi getting fucking pummeled in an automatic mochi maker that someone tagged '#moomin...' no matter what I do. That aside, he wiped the floor with Dimple (63 votes, 19.4%), who admittedly should have lost by disqualification anyways.

CARD 17: K-9 vs. Gary (winner!): Most important poll of the day, serving it up, Gary's (229 votes, 70.5%) way! Gary did great up against K-9 (96 votes, 29.5%), who is in fact this poll's only representative of SuperWhoLock. SuperWho would've thought he'd only rack up that many votes? Truly, no fandom can transcend one's early childhood.

CARD 18: Midna (winner!) vs. Morgana: In this battle of scrunkly little cat people, Midna (193 votes, 59.4%) was the definite winner, beating out Morgana (132 votes, 40.6%) by a decent amount. Whoever wins this tournament should be playable in Smash Bros 6

CARD 19: Puffles (winner!) vs. Chao: I feel like the Puffles (191 votes, 58.8%) won for the same reason Gary won: sheer power of childhood memory. As a kid, I always wanted the black one... was it locked behind the paid membership? It's been several years, so naturally I forgor. As for Chaos (134 votes, 41.2%): I am so fucking sorry to the person who said #CHAOSWEEP in the comments lol

CARD 20: Cousin Itt (winner!) vs. Tony Tony Chopper: the one piece wasnt real :(

CARD 21: Rigby vs. Mushu (winner!): Personally, I was really gunning for Rigby (125 votes, 38.5%). With Dimple so immediately out of the race, I was hoping for at least one representative of pathetic men everywhere. That being said, congrats to Mushu (200 votes, 61.5%)! Vote for him in Round 2 if you want him to job to Mr. J!

CARD 22: Luna vs. Hobbes (winner!): I read Calvin and Hobbes as a kid and only recently watched Sailor Moon as a feature for my anime club, but I can honestly say I like both. I still think a crossover would be gold! Show me Luna (117 votes, 36.0%) offering Calvin and Hobbes (208 votes, 64.0%) magical girl powers, Calvin rejecting the offer performatively and whining about lack of powers. That's 12 full strips of Calvin and Hobbes! Make it happen.

CARD 23: Ein (winner!) vs. Iggy: Ok quick tangent. I just looked up 'ein cowboy bebop' to find out what he does, clicked into the wiki and found a tiny, useless article only to then realize I was not on Cowboy Bebop Wiki but in fact the dreaded Heroes Wiki. This and Villains Wiki are the bane of my existence and I'd raise a glass if all parties involved were stranded on a snowy mountain. The Heroes Wiki entry for Spike Spiegel is 1980 words. The Bebop Wiki entry is 8000 words! Why the fuck would I ever want to read the latter? Why does it exist? Are there seriously people who browse Heroes Wiki, just clicking from unrelated protagonist to unrelated protagonist? It has absolutely no functional use in any fandom whatsoever! Any time I look up a fictional character, there's a 90% chance that the Heroes or Villains entry will be the one Google puts on top as if to say 'yeah, this is what you want. trust me.' And without fail, I click it every time! Since the Nazis who own Fandom made the mobile version of all their wikis the same fuck-ugly yellow, I can never tell until it's too late and I've wasted nearly forty seconds of precious time. If I was Elon Musk, not only would I not buy Twitter, I would instead buy Fandom, blow both of these wretched wikis off the face of the fucking earth and ban the IP adresses of anyone to ever type a single word into one of their useless, obtrusive entries. I cannot possibly overstate how much vitriol I bear towards these websites. Please vindicate me in the replies. Anyways, Ein got 265 votes (81.5%) and the other one got 60 votes (18.5%).

CARD 24: Snoopy (winner!) vs. Sakamoto: Snoopy got 195 votes (60.0%) and Sakamoto got 130 votes (40.0%). To quote my cousin's reaction when they found out:

"thank you snoppy"

here's the link to vote in the second round! i'll probably keep it open until 11:59pm est on november 3rd, that way i can get round 3 out in time for destiel day :)

finally, to conclude the post, here is a selection of my favorite comments from round 1 (view on mobile for optimal experience!)

thanks for playing! ~♥♛

215 notes · View notes

anxious-witch · 5 months

Text

Inertia 6

Summary: Newton's first law expresses the principle of inertia: the natural behavior of a body is to move in a straight line at constant speed. In the absence of outside influences, a body's motion preserves the status quo.

Jan choose a direction of his life the moment he walked out of his parents house and cut all contact with them. He didn't want anything to do with them, or God anymore. Even his soulmark he wished he could leave behind. But when Nace Jordan joins the band, with a mark matching his own, can Jan keep going the same way he did? Or will the force make him change a direction?

Pairings: Jan Peteh/Nace Jordan

Warnings: Warning for mentions of religions trauma as per usual, but other than that…I think we might not have any other upsetting things here? Shocker, I know

Notes: AO3 link

A couple of things. First of all, this is second to last chapter! Congratulation to everyone who made it this far with me, I cannot believe I actually got this far into this fic. That said, next update might happen on a Sunday rather than a Saturday, due to my uni assignments. I will try my best to make it in time, but y'know, better safe than sorry.

But yeah! Finally, we are getting to some hurt/comfort and some talking! Enjoy it, you've earned it with all the angst

"I'm not too gone to be healed, am I? I'm not too gone am I?"

- Alice Notley, from In The Pines: Poems; "In The Pines,"

Jan slipped back to consciousness slowly. He firstly became aware of how heavy his body felt. Then of how dry his throat was.

He struggled to open his eyes. They were heavier than usual. It reminded Jan of how it felt to fall asleep while crying. Wait…was he crying?

That made his recall the events of the previous night and he jerked upright. Which proved to be a bad idea because he immediately felt his head pound.

"You have water and a pill on the table. I will start making coffee," Kris said, peering from the kitchen.

Every day, Jan was more convinced Kris was an angel. Jan owed him an apology and a hug. Once his head stopped pounding, though.

So he took the pill and drunk the water. Living room was only partially lit up, for which Jan was also grateful. Anything bright certainly wouldn't help.

Kris came back and pressed the warm coffee cup in his hands. His coffee cup. Jan stared at the dark red cup, trying to recall when he started having a cup that was only his in Kris' place.

All the cups in his parents' house were the same. Pure white with a golden circle near the rim. One of them slightly chipped at the rim and Jan used it all the time, until his mother noticed and threw it away.

There was probably something to be said about him liking things that are different, even if they are a little damaged.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he said, staring at his coffee.

Kris sighed. Out of the corner of his eye, Jan saw him tap his fingers against the couch. His typical nervous gesture.

"I'm sorry I didn't realize things have gotten so bad. I don't-I don't think I ever saw you react the way you did last night. God, Jan, you were terrified and you were paranoid and I-"

Kris took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. For a few seconds he didn't speak at all. Jan would have, but he knew Kris wasn't finished talking. So he stayed quiet, giving Kris time to compose himself.

"I think you need to start seeing a therapist. And you have to talk to Nace. I can be there when you do, but for fuck's sake, Jan. I texted him yesterday after you fell asleep and he wasn't okay."

Jan began picking on his already ruined nail. Kris was right. He knew he was right. But Jan was terrified of this very thing for so long, he wasn't sure he would be able to just face it head on.

"What if I can't?"

He finally met Kris' eyes. His blue eyes that were too clear to hide anything, but always had the ability to burn right through you, to see to the very core of you.

Was it a blue eyes thing? Or did Kris and Jure simply share that trait?

"Yes, you can. You are one of the strongest people I know. But it's not weak to ask for help, Jan. Don't let your parents ruin this for you."

Jan pulled him in a hug. Kris froze, clearly not expecting it, before he melted into the embrace.

"Thank you. For everything."

Kris chuckled, but Jan heard a slight hitch to his breath. Almost like he was tearing up.

"Why do you make it sound like I will never see you again?"

Jan hugged him tighter.

"I should have said it earlier. Although, there is always a plan on moving to Antarctica if everything goes south."

Kris laughed and then he was the one crying. So Jan did the same as Kris did to him last night-he held him. They both felt fragile.

Kris showed emotions more easily than he did, but Jan also thought he never truly let himself experience them to the depth that they really ran. When he cried, he didn't sob, instead letting tears run down his cheek in a manner that seemed almost glorified. Where someone would look at him and still think he was pretty.

Jan preferred to either fall apart fully or not at all.

"You really fucking scared me, you asshole. Don't do that again."

He rubbed Kris' back in slow, comforting motions. His mind was starting to go through possible options, but it was still too clouded with panic for him to come with a solid plan.

"I don't know what to do now," he admitted quietly, "I don't know how to even talk to him. What to tell him."

Kris slowly pulled back, but he still kept his hand on Jan's shoulder.

"Let's go step by step, okay? Go home, eat something. Have a shower. Then call him. Don't text, call him."

Jan made a face. He did hate phone calls with burning passion. They were awkward at the best of circumstances. These were certainly not the best of circumstances.

"I know you hate phone calls. But in these kinds of situations, messages can be easily misread. So call him and set up a time to meet. As for what to tell him...I don't have a better advice than telling him the truth."

Jan buried his face in his hands. The truth? What was the truth at this point? He wasn't even sure he knew himself.

"That's about as helpful as telling me to just breathe underwater."

Kris sighed.

"How about you do the rest first and then look at the situation again? As much as I hate to say it...sometimes you have to jump first and ask questions later."

"Fine," Jan said sourly.

He doubted he'd come up with any better plan just by showering and eating, but he saw no point in arguing. So he hugged Kris one more time and went home. This time with his bag and keys.

He did everything Kris said, but he felt no closer to the solution on how to approach Nace. His phone laid on the table, screen up. Jan stared at it as if it was a time bomb.

Nace didn't try to contact him. Except for few phone calls from yesterday after he ran off, but nothing today. Whatever Kris told him clearly made him wait for Jan's move.

Jan wished he wouldn't. He didn't know what to say.

He grabbed his bag and out his phone in it and then went outside. Perhaps a walk would clear his head.

It was cold and gloomy outside. The fog settled heavy over the city, and Jan only saw few meters ahead as he walked. Still, that didn't stop him.

He walked and walked, until his feet hurt. Then he spotted a nearby bench and sat on it, catching his breath. He still felt lost. He wasn't even sure he knew exactly where he was, as lost in thoughts as he was while he walked.

A sound of church bells snapped him out of it. Jan flinched, looking around with wide eyes. Was he hallucinating again?

But, no. There stood a church, cloaked by the fog. And Jan felt compelled to get closer. So he did. He got all the way to the church, close to the entrance. Only then he stopped, frozen in place.

He could hear the wait sound of a mass going inside. There was no way he was going inside, but he could listen in. He leaned on the wall of the church and closed his eyes. Just listening.

It was hard to tell how long he stood there, listening in. He was so focused on it he missed the sound of steps approaching him.

"I am sorry, young man?"

Jan's eyes flew open, his heart leaping in his throat. A man stood in front of his, peering at him worriedly. For a brief second, Jan thought he was a priest, but on a second glance he realized he was actually a deacon, his clothes giving him away.

"Um. Right, sorry. I should probably leave," Jan said awkwardly, pushing himself from the wall.

"No, no need. I just thought you might be more comfortable inside. It is quite cold out here."

Jan bit his lip. Dread settled in his gut once again. He didn't think he could make himself go in. Face the inside of the church, the prayer. It was still to raw.

"No, thank you. I don't think I'd be welcome, either way."

"Everyone is welcome into the church."

He couldn't quite stop the sharp, bitter laugh that escaped him.

"Right. Of course. Everyone is welcome as long as they can obey your rules, no?"

Deacon gave him a long, pitying look. Jan felt his skin crawl. If he hated one thing, it was pity. He turned his head away, but before he could walk away, deacon spoke again.

"There are God's guidances, of course, but I wouldn't call them rules. Rules sound so rigid and human life and morality are so easily bent by situations we find ourselves in."

Jan stared at the man before him. He had never, ever heard someone religious, someone connected to the church, speak in such a way. Nace came the closest and even then, it wasn't the same.

"You-so what, "You shall not kill", is simply a guidance?"

Deacon gave him a gentle smile.

"Some are stronger than the others. But in a situation where it is self defense, is that truly a sin? A mother killing someone while protecting her child, is it something that should need forgiving? We are just human, after all."

He swallowed. This felt surreal. Like he was within a dream, and he was talking to his own subconscious.

Whatever it was, the unreality of it made Jan wanted to ask more question. He wanted to know more. He could always walk away, couldn't he?

"So...if almost everything is subjective, how can you know if you are doing a good or a bad thing? How do you...know what's right?"

Deacon patted his own chest.

"Most of us have the ability to feel right or wrong. There are exceptions of course, but there are usually other reasons for it. We all have...inner guidance, so to speak. No matter if you see it as given from God, or simply a part of you, it can help you decide on what's right thing to do."

Jan exhaled slowly, watching his breath curl like smoke in the air. His own chest felt frozen, but as he focused more, he swore he could almost feel a tug. A spot of light.

He needed to go to Nace. To be honest with him. To tell him-

His fear extinguished his hope almost immediately, cloaking him in darkness. Jan squeezed his eyes shut. He was too damaged ti be fixed.

"What if...what if it's too late to do the right thing? What if it's too late to fix me?"

The other man didn't say anything for a moment. The only sound came from a church choir. Jan felt his heart sink.

"It is never too late. Not unless we are dead. And perhaps, not even then."

Jan's hand drifted underneath his hair, to his soulmark. He traced it, almost hesitantly. He did his best to forget it was there for so long, it was odd to acknowledge it.

"I can't be anything other than what I already am."

He opened his eyes to see deacon giving him another soft smile. It was odd, how honest he was being. He supposed the fact that the other man didn't know who he was helped. To him, he could be anyone.

"Have you tried? To be another person?"

Jan furrowed his brows.

"I don't understand."

The deacon nodded.

"We can't become new people overnight. But we can do things that'll help take us in the right direction. Is there anything you can do to fix your mistake right now?"

He took in a deep breath in. Then exhaled slowly.

"I could talk to my soulmate. But I don't know if I can be what he needs."

Jan realized that the right pronouns tumbled from his lips too late. He froze, but the deacon's face didn't change. If he was phased, he didn't show it.

"Well. You can't know unless you talk to him, can you?"

Jan chuckled, almost surprised that he didn't immediately change his answer. What parallel reality did he walk into?

"I suppose not. But won't you tell me that my soulmate can't be a man?"

Deacon shook his head.

"God gives us our soul’s companions for a reason. Who am I to question God's decision of giving you two a soul bond, regardless of the gender?"

He swallowed. There was something else he needed to ask. He always had to keep prodding, didn't he?

"And what if...what if I don't believe in God anymore?"

Deacon reached his hand out and tentatively put his hand on Jan's shoulder. Jan expected to feel uncomfortable, but he wasn't. It was simply a warm touch.

"They are different ways to believe. Some of us need more guidance to get through life. From God, from the church from others. Others simply need to live and be happy. Is it not God's will for all of us to live to our fullest potential, no matter which path we take?"

Jan suddenly found it hard to swallow. His eyes stung and he closed them, willing himself not to cry. He took in a shaky breath.

"Can it really be that simple?"

Deacon squeezed his shoulder gently.

"Life is simple, once we learn to let go of things that weight us down."

Jan took another deep breath before opening his eyes. He met deacon's kind gaze.

"Thank you."

He got a pat on the shoulder before the other man let go.

"We all need a bit of extra guidance sometimes. I wish you your best in your pursuit of happiness."

Jan nodded, a lump in his throat too heavy for him to say anything else. Yet, despite it all, when he turned and began to walk back, he felt lighter than he did in a very, very long time.

He wasn't sure what made him come up directly to Nace's doorstep. He was holding a box of gluten free cookies in hands that he had picked up during his small detour on the way here. Suddenly, he wasn't sure why he had gone to get them at all, but it wasn't important. He was here, at Nace's front door. That was the part that mattered. He could leave the cookies for someone else if Nace didn't want them.

He rang the doorbell before he could change his mind. It echoed through the apartment for a moment, before he heard a sound of footsteps on the other side of the door. Then the door opened.

Nace stood in the doorway. He wore a dark green hoodie and sweatpants, his hair in an unusual disarray. There were dark circles under his eyes and Jan couldn't help but wonder if he slept at all.

"Hi," he said, awkwardly holding up a bag of cookies, "I bought cookies. They are gluten free."

Nace stared at him, unmoving. He opened his mouth and closed it few times before clearing his throat.

"What are you doing here?"

Jan shifted from one foot to the other. It was the moment of truth, he supposed.

"I wanted to talk to you. May I come in?"

There was a brief hesitation before Nace stepped back and allowed Jan to come in. The doors closing with a soft click felt more significant than it should have been.

Jan wordlessly handed Nace the cookies while he took off his boots and a jacket. Nace simply watched him, as if trying to comprehend Jan was really here. He supposed he deserved that.

Nace led him to the dining room instead of the living room. Which was odd, but Jan didn't question it. He got them both glasses of water before sitting across from Jan.

Oh. He choose this because he could face him more directly. Jan let his hair fall over his face a bit, suddenly uncomfortable under Nace's heavy gaze.

"So," Jan said awkwardly, "about yesterday. I'm sorry."

A paused. Nace stared at him, as if prompting him to continue, but Jan didn't know where to begin with explaining himself.

"Is that it? You came here to tell me you are sorry for running off?"

Jan winced. Nace's usual patience seemed to not be present today. Just when Jan needed it the most.

"No. I just-maybe it would be easier if you asked me things and I answered? I don't know where to begin."

Nace chuckled, but not in his usual, heartfelt way. He sounded tired.

"Alright. How about, why the fuck didn't you tell me? You had to know."

Jan shrugged. He felt uncomfortable in a way he didn't in awhile. So he answered the first thing he thought of. His go to answer on the topic.

"Didn't seem that important to me. I don't exactly believe in all that soulmate stuff anyway."

That was clearly the wrong thing to say. Nace's gaze sharpened. His mouth twisted in an angry grimace.

"So what? I am good enough to fuck, but not good enough to be your soulmate?"

"No!"

Jan reached out, to grab Nace's hand, but stopped himself just short of making contact. He let his hand fall back to the table.

"No," he said softer, "that's not how it is at all."

"Then explain to me how it is."

Nace's voice was almost forceful, slamming into Jan's chest like a punch. Jan closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on that little shed of hope he still held.

"I lied. I don't see soulmates as bullshit I just-I wish I did. I wish I could not care at all and that I could hate you and that by refusing you by refusing this make my parents be wrong."

He took in a shaky breath. Nace didn't say anything so he continued.

"Because feeling like I was incomplete without you, without some divine intervention seems so fucked up to me. Because I choose to play in a band because my parents didn't approve and didn't like that it took away from my time in the church. And yet that being a thing that led me to you is so frustrating! Did I have any free will at all?"

Jan finally opened his eyes again, taking in Nace's expression. Nace was pale, and his brows furrowed, probably trying to follow his thought process.

"Alright. So let me see if I got this right. Your parents had harmful religious views on soulmates so you don't want to even consider this, us, because you feel like you had no choice in the matter?"

That wasn't quite a fair assessment of what he said, but Nace wasn't entirely wrong, either. As much as Jan wanted to fix things, it was hard to get past the feeling of helplessness.

"I'm-not quite but I suppose that's a gist of it. I don't have anything against you, not really. But I hate not having a choice in any of this."

Nace lifted one eyebrow.

"You mean, like not giving me any real choice in the matter by not telling me a very important detail?"

Fuck. That wasn't fair.

"That's not the same."

Nace shrugged.

"Isn't it?"

Jan struggled with what to say to that. Isn't it the same? Was he truly taking away his choice in all of this?

"Let me ask you something. Did you find me attractive when we first met? Ignore the soulmark, ignore everything else."

He swallowed, blush slightly painting his cheeks as he remembered Martin's comment about him checking out Nace during their first encounter. He definitely found him attractive from the start.

"Yes."

"And if there was no soulmark involved, would you have acted upon it at some point?"

His answer came in an instant. Absolutely. Jan was certain of it. He still would have taken some time to observe Nace, but without having to be cautious of the soulmark, he would have certainly acted earlier.

"Yes."

Nace leaned in, his breath ghosting over his face and Jan had the urge to pull him even closer. Instead, he was frozen in place, staring at those dark eyes.

"So by insisting on hating me, you are, in fact flat out refusing for anything to happened between us because of the soulmark. Not because you don't like me. How is that a natural choice on your part?"

Jan could hear his own blood ringing in his ears. Felt his heartbeat. Thud, thud, thud. It sounded like everything around him crashing down.

"I-" he swallowed, then cleared his throat, but no words came.

Nace waited patiently, simply looking at him. Like he didn't just pull the foundations of his world apart with few sentences.

"God, Nace," he said at last, "What do you want?"

"I want you to stop hiding behind the excuse of having no control and work with me. I can't help you unless you let me. So please do tell me what is your actual problem with me."

Jan worked his jaw. He focused on his nails. He reapplied the nail polish on his left hand yesterday, so it was perfect. Too perfect. He began to peel it off.

Then Nace reached out and covered his palms with his own, stopping his movements. Jan froze.

"Tell me," Nace urged, his softer now.

That finally made Jan snap.

"I can't give you what you want, alright? There was no point in giving you false hope about it."

Silence. Nace's mouth slightly fell open before he managed to scold his face into a more neutral expression. Jan felt more uncomfortable than he possible ever did in his life.

That thought kept bothering him on his way to here, though. Even if he was willing to do this, he could never do it in a way traditional to soulmates. He simply couldn't.

"And what is that you think that I want?"

Nace's voice was leveled. Controlled. Almost too controlled. He was definitely holding his emotions back. Jan just couldn't quite tell what those emotions were, at the moment.

Still. He owed him the truth, at the very least.

"You are a simple man. You want to settle down, have your secure little fairy tale with someone you love. Maybe even a family. I can't give you that."

So many emotions flickered over Nace's face. Disbelief, anger, hurt. Jan looked away.

"Did I ever say that's what I want?"

Jan sighed. He tried to pull his hands away from Nace's, but Nace tightened his hold on them.

"No. But I overheard you and Bojan talking about soulmates several times."

"Hypotheticals are different than the actual situations."

Jan rolled his eyes. He completely turned his head away this time. Clearly, this conversation wasn't leading anywhere.

Nace grabbed his chin. Jan froze, expecting it to hurt, for Nace to forcefully drag him into a kiss. Instead, Nace gently turned his head back towards him.

"Listen to me. I am only asking for a chance to get to know you. For you to get to know me, before you make any judgments."

His eyes shone with determination and now Jan couldn't look away.

"You fascinate me and you frustrate me and I want to know what you think and how you think. I want to get to know you properly. Can you at least give me a chance for that? No promises need to be made, just that we'll try. See where it goes. Maybe we work better as friends. That's also fine. But we won't know unless you give it a chance. Does that sound reasonable?"

Jan nodded slowly. He breathe through the panic rising in his chest. Somewhere, deep inside him, he knew that whatever this will involve into, won't be just friendship. But it was far too early to say that.

"Yeah, alright."

And Nace smiled, like a light shining at the end of a dark street. It was soft, almost hesitant smile.

"Alright."

It was a start.

#jance #my writing #joker out #inertia

18 notes · View notes

yonemurishiroku · 9 months

Note

Do you think that the solangelo contains more of a forceful representation, and if so, what is your advice to authors who are trying to make lgbtq+ representation seem more a part of the story/flow with the story then the opposing option?

May 22nd. I'm so sorry, my mind has been going off track for a while. I'm really sorry for the delay. 😭😭

So, regarding Solangelo as a representation, well this is gonna be hard to say lol. This has been circling the fandom since the day of its emergence, and this is certainly not a good time but eh penny for my thought ig.

Now. I suppose I have a very varying definition of representation, but let's not dwell on that. As for now, I can say that I do consider Solangelo somewhat forcefully developed. As in, the term of writing, plot-wise, etc...

It's quite difficult to say. I have no problem with Solangelo as a couple - or their dynamic - per se. Rather, it's the pacing that throws me off. This has been addressed in many posts - Solangelo has a quite... abrupt (?) takeoff. I just felt like Rick did not mean to make them a thing but just a spur of a moment - something small and... promising that you left hanging at the end of the series for reader's interpretation, for whatever reason (This actually lines up with Boo's time of releash I think? The LGBTQ+ literature being unpopular I mean).

In fact, Solangelo's whole developing process happened behind the curtains - as in, we're told, not shown. Imagine. In BOO, their friendship just barely sprouts, and the next time we see them again in TOA, they're already a couple. For the longest time possible, it was left to the reader/fanfic writers to deduce wth happen for them to become a couple in like idk 6 months? (A pretty fast process for someone like Nico imo. but that's just me).

Something like that is bound to raise some doubts.

The full picture itself is only revealed - partly, and through second reminiscence, mind you - in TSATS. It's also the reason TSATS feels kinda off to me, ig - the fact that some parts actually misalign with the established canon events, or appear like a patch to cover a hole in the piece of fabric. And some others just straight up fall into the what-the-f-was-in-your-mind-rick category. I doubt it was even Rick's initial plan to come up with TSATS in the first place.

However, it's also worth acknowledging that, whilst it would certainly help, Rick hardly has the capacity to fully-build another 5-book romance for Solangelo. That's as far as it can go (I usually think this to placate myself at the thought of the ship being undeveloped). Nico is not the franchise's protagonist (more like deuteragonist I guess), no matter how far this story goes and how widely loved he is, let alone Will.

On to the advice part.

Please keep in mind that I am, in no way, a professional or good writer, nor do I study sexual orientation and/or identity theory (I barely know the flags). I've also grown up and received education in an Estern (somewhat conserative?) country, so please take whatever I say with a grant of salt.

Now. When it comes to "make it seem more a part of the story", I... actually don't know how to say this...

Just look at the all the BL mangas (Japanese comics) and danmeis (Chinese BL literature) and BL manhwas (Korean comics). I have been reading BoyLove longggg before I even came to PJO, you know? The Eastern fandoms have surprisingly extensive LGBT content for a conservative culture, anw they have been telling and/or drawing stotries upon stories about same-sex couples since the dawn of internet. They don't even need to try. They have the image of a love, a story in their mind and just... go along with it.

You don't make it a part of the story. The story is either about it (much or little), or just nothing at all.

I'm saying making a story about it - rather than trying to incorporate it into the story. Give it background and enough development, it'd progress itself. You don't give it anything, of course it'd feel flat. This goes with any type of romance, not just LGBTQ+.

The problem with Solangelo itself, imo, is not the nature of their relationship (tho I do admit somtimes Rick makes me go wtf), but rather how they're portrayed. And furthermore, said portray in proportion to people's expectation. Solangelo, by all means, is a side-story at best (unless Rick manages to come up with a trilogy about their journey from start to finish idk 🤷‍♀️). People like it, so they tend to expect more from it, but the author's just a human.

I think this is everything... My thoughts are kinda in a jumble as I'm writing this, so feel free to ask if something doesn't make sense... This is also just my personal view lol don't take it too seriously if it differs from yours too much.

Lastly, I know my advice would probably not do much, however I hope for you to find your way to tell your stories the best you can!

#nico di angelo #pjo #hoo #toa #yone rambling #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #will solace #solangelo #solangelo crit #rick riordan #tsats #the sun and the star #the sun and the star: a nice di angelo adventure #yone writing #writing

26 notes · View notes

ro-botany · 6 months

Text

@silque Hope you don't mind me pulling this into it's own post; it's a critical enough point that I really wanna expand on it.

For context for those who didn't read my recent longass post about Frederick in general: We're talking about the canonical age at which Emmeryn was crowned Exalt of Ylisse.

According to the numbers from Awakening Chapter 6, when Emm took the throne she was

NINE YEARS OLD

Maaaaaybe 10, at the most, if you stretch the meaning of "before her tenth year" a bit and play around with the exact date her dad died.

(To be clear, Frederick's age in that table is a headcanon, not canonical in any way)

You are making several excellent points and I'm Big Emotional about all of them, so naturally, I'm going to take four miles of post length to screech about this in more detail.

It is fucking wild to me that the game breezes by the war timeline and the ages of the royal kids so fast. To the point where I straight up missed it! Or forgot, I guess, in the years since my last full playthrough.

I just. I have to set the scene.

Ylisse has just been through an unfathomably bloody holy war. Almost anyone of fighting age was given a weapon and dragged to the desert to fight, leaving behind a halidom populated almost exclusively by children and the elderly, with a dwindling food supply. A country driven into desperation and chaos by its own ruler.

We don't know how the Exalt dies--if his own men turned mutiny or he was routed by Plegian forces or what--but the Exalt does die, and the war dies with him. When the news from the front finally trickles back to Ylisstol alongside what few broken men and women survived the violence, the oldest person of exalted blood is duty-bound to take his former place on the throne.

Overnight, nine-year old Emmeryn goes from playing with her baby brother and awaiting the day her baby sister is born, to being crowned Exalt of a dying country and a shattered populace that now turns all their hurt and ire onto her.

She has her council of old, withered politicians to guide her hand. She has the castle guards--all either old enough to be her grandparents or young enough to be her peers--to protect her from the worst of the violence. She has her mother, too--until one day, too soon, she doesn't.

The game certainly doesn't gloss over the tragedy of that. It neglects to emphasize the ages these kids were dealing with all this at, though. I could tangent off into another 500-1000 words about how fucked that family situation is if I chose to and the unique ways that has played into the characterization of everybody involved. That Emmeryn grew up to be as competent and well-loved a ruler as she did is a monumental feat, not only on her part, but on the parts of the people who supported and raised her.

And to bring it back to the man of the hour on this blog… At some point, Frederick became one of those people. He's been looking after Chrom and Lissa for who even knows how long; there is no doubt in my mind that, like tumblr user silque suggested, Frederick also helped look after Emmeryn. Helped her and her siblings make whatever sense of the ongoing tragedies they could, while probably dealing with a mountain of issues of his own.

He's something at the nexus between older brother, father, bodyguard to all of them. He's been by their side, a constant rock, since all four of them were arguably children. Frederick doesn't let his guard down for a second. He sees the weight on the shoulders of these kids, and he knows helping them bear it is the best thing he can do to help the people starving in his village and every other like it, or to help avert this war, or end that war swiftly. He devotes himself to this duty so utterly that he's practically killing himself from stress and overwork. Always watching for the wolf in the shadows, that Emmeryn and Chrom and Lissa might be able to avoid the fangs and continue being the beacons the halidom needs them to be.

Even when they're at peace, the eyes at the edge of the firelight are all he can see. It confuses Chrom and Lissa; and that's how he knows he's doing his job correctly.

And this relationship between Frederick and the royal siblings.

Is reduced to jokes about pebble-clearing and overzealous recruitment posters a solid 80% of the time.

I JUST.

I want to clarify that these games being goofy and silly and over the top as often as they are is one of their draws, and that I do enjoy how just, cartoonishly cautious Frederick can be. I love the jokes. I am that guy who played the Before Awakening DLC in Fates literally 128 times to max out the pebble joke weapon. In no world do I think we need to wholly kill comedy here.

But at the same time I can't help but be blown away by how often the heart in this relationship is neglected in favour of comedy. The second you start thinking about how Frederick got where he is and why he is the way he is, there is just, SO much there.

It's of dubious canonicity at best, but I want you to read the conversations that Chrom and Frederick have with Emmeryn during her recruitment paralogue. I want you to notice how Chrom, though clearly emotional, is capable of putting his emotions aside, and opts to focus on keeping her safe rather than indulging in his grief, which he knows would only confuse her.

And then I want you to notice how Frederick, stoic, icy Frederick, breaks down. A paragraph of two years of repressed grief comes tumbling out all at once to a woman who, ultimately, is only a ghost of the person he knew. He begs her forgiveness. He cannot, cannot think clearly or objectively in this moment. He hurts too deeply. He cares too much.

The so-called Cold Lieutenant of the Shepherds cares so deeply and self-sacrificingly about everyone and it can be really damn funny, or utterly heart-melting, or utterly heart-breaking depending on the situation and how you play it. AND YET. THE SIDE CHARACTER CURSE. The most genuinely they ever play this bond is in a side chapter that isn't even canon.

How do I end this post.

I am inconsolable for SEVERAL REASONS.

#fe awakening #frederick #emmeryn #chrom #lissa #long post #i continue to be allergic to brevity #like half of this is being stunned by the immense childhood trauma the ylissean royal sibs went through #and the other half is weeping over how fred's side character curse interacts with that #there's barely a coherent point to this #i made the mistake of listening to divine decree and then saw that reply and got riled #and when i get riled i vomit 1000 words out and then collapse

15 notes · View notes

climbthemountain2020 · 3 months

Text

Hope of Spring Chapter 7

Find Chapter 6 here!

Also on Ao3 :)

“Tamlin,” Lucien said cautiously, imploringly.

He looked so astonished at the sight before him, the two of them covered in paint and breathing heavily, that Penny almost burst out laughing, the adrenaline of the last few minutes buzzing in her veins. Tamlin cleared his throat as he swiped his sleeve over his face to remove some of the remaining paint. All the mirth of seconds before was gone from him entirely as he looked to Lucien.

“Why are you here, Lucien?” The voice was sharp and caustic, but Penny could hear the undercurrent of hurt in it. The tension could be cut with a knife.

“Rhys sent me. He got your letter.” Penny felt as though the room had filled with a crackle of energy. Weeks in, they’d all but forgotten the letter she’d sent, assuming that they didn’t want or need her information. She hadn’t thought about it one bit in the last few days, and clearly, Tamlin had put it out of his head, as well. She could feel the rage and irritation rolling off of his skin and ricocheting up her arms like static.

“I don’t know what you could possibly be referring to,” Tamlin gritted out between clenched teeth. “Now, I must ask that you leave my court. Certainly, you remember how.” The barb hit home, and Penny saw the light in Lucien’s eyes gutter. Regardless, he remained outwardly calm.

“Feyre recognized the smell of Spring on the letter. Your scent, among others. We know it came from you, from the manor.” His eyes shot to Penny. “I assume the letter came from you.” The second the words slipped out, he seemed to backtrack, as if wondering if truly Tamlin hadn’t known, and he’d just inadvertently put her into harm's way. The notion infuriated her. She shook off the anger at the unspoken suggestion, and stepped around Tamlin with her hand outstretched.

“Hello, Lucien. My name is Penny. I did send the letter, though we had hoped to remain anonymous. It seems I overlooked the ability to scent such things in my haste to help. Though you all surely did not make haste in your reply.”

He took her hand as though to kiss it, looked over her shoulder, shook it awkwardly instead, and dropped it with an uncomfortable cough. Penny couldn’t help but smile as the former emissary fumbled his way through this entire interaction. Clever fox, indeed. How naive she’d been to think that letter could have arrived to them anonymously. At this range, Penny could scent Lucien, though. She thought Lucien smelled like cinnamon and apples and a day in the sun. She knew their senses of smell were sharply honed like that of a predator. Tamlin had been right to be cautious, and she’d steamrolled straight over him.

“Hello, Penny. It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance. How do you find yourself here in Spring?” The questioning tone remained, though Lucien was a clearly trained courtier. Penny took a deep breath to calm herself at the sharp sting of rage that bounced through her at the implication that she wasn’t safe here.

Before she could respond, Tamlin all but growled from behind her “She is my guest.” She knew his anger was at its limit. “I want you out of my house, Lucien. Now.” Penny knew they were moments away from an eruption.

“I barged in on Tamlin’s manor a few weeks ago, and he’s been gracious enough to allow me to stay, despite the fact that I am not, at all times, the most pleasant guest.” She allowed the glint in her eyes and the smile on her face to show the slightest threat. “So, you may tell Rhysand that Tamlin’s guest is here of her own free will, and not a hostage of any sort.” She raised an eyebrow at his shock, apparent across his face.

“My lady, I did not mean to imply–”

“No, no of course not. But to make it perfectly clear. I am here of my own accord, and here I will stay as long as Tamlin will allow me to. I wrote the letter in hopes that I could provide some information in order to help Prythian with any of the upcoming conflicts with the Death God, but I will not have Tamlin put out in order for me to do it.”

Lucien nodded, wariness still evident on his face. He looked to Tamlin again. “You know I will have to inform Rhysand of what I’ve seen here, right?” Penny could feel the house rumble beneath their feet. She was astonished at how calm Lucien was able to remain in the presence of Tamlin’s barely leashed fury.

Tamlin, seemingly unable to take another second, turned his eyes to Penny. She almost drew back at the darkness and rage and grief within them. The sorrow was so deep she could swear she felt it wrap around her own heart as though it was suffocating her. “I told you I didn’t want to send the letter.” He turned back to Lucien. “I won’t tell you again to get out.” Then he turned, slammed open the front doors with a flick of his wrists, and walked out.

Lucien sighed deeply and turned to Penny. “Are you certain you’re okay here with him?” The last tether holding back her anger snapped and she whirled away from the doors to turn on him.

“You know, none of you are helping him when you treat him this way. He fucked up, but this is a different male than he was three years ago. You all might notice if you’d give him the benefit of the doubt a single time. He’s trying so incredibly hard to be the person this court deserves, and every time any of you come up, he’s thrust back. How can you ever expect him to heal if you keep forcing him back down?” Her chest was heaving from her tirade.

Suddenly embarrassed, she drew back. Lucien’s eyes flared with something like sympathy, but she could see the understanding and respect there, too.

“I apologize, Lady Penny. Tamlin was once my closest friend, and it was never my intent to offend him, or you, for that matter. You’re correct. It has been years since I’ve considered myself to be someone who knows him. But I let him mistreat a lady in his home once before, and in my own healing I vowed to never sit idle and allow that again. I had to be sure.” She understood, she did. She could see both sides. She sighed deeply, her rage all but deflating in her chest.

Tamlin had made such mistakes before and during the war. But she saw how he tried. How he fought the lessons beaten into him again and again over centuries. She saw how he resisted his impulses to anger and tried every day to be better. She wasn’t sure where the aggression she’d felt had come from–it wasn’t like her to be so possessive over someone else. But she knew that the damage done here tonight would drag him back to the depths of sadness that she’d found him in. She knew how hurt the accustation would have made him, how he’d spend the rest of the night once the rage wore off, desperate and wallowing in misery about the monster he felt he was.

“You must allow him the space to heal if you expect him to. You must give him the grace to do so without assuming the worst in him. He is a good male. I have seen it.”

“Clearly, I have assumed incorrectly. I apologize for my part in this tonight. I still have to tell Rhys and Feyre what happened, but I will emphasize that you are here of your own accord. I will tell them to approach this with caution and aplomb.” He bowed his head.

“Thank you, Lucien. I know he is changing. He is not the monster that he believes he is.” She saw him to the door, grasping his forearm gently as he went to depart.

“For what it’s worth, Penny, in those moments before you both saw me…Never, in all the years I spent here, have I seen Tamlin run or play with anyone. For any reason.” He gave her a roguish smirk and a wink, but before she could shoot back a retort, he had winnowed away into nothing.

___________________

Penny had no idea how long Tamlin would be gone, but she knew the damage was done and that the best course was to let him work it out and come back as he wished. She wasn’t going to pry in and play therapist for him. This was something he needed to work through on his own, and she would be there to help him with that if he asked.

The evening was beautiful, and since Tamlin was gone, she didn’t want to make the kitchen staff slave over a dinner no one was eating. She sent them off early and decided to put together a basket of food for herself and eat outdoors in the garden gazebo. She’d never had so many opportunities to eat outside, and just being out under the open sky more left her constantly feeling lighter and happier. She remembered how desperate she’d been to be outdoors before, and having these sorts of opportunities given so freely to her felt like a true gift.

She threw some cheese, bread, dried meats, fruits, and apple turnovers from breakfast into a basket, along with some candles and matches. Hoisting the basket up on her hip, she trekked out to the gazebo to set up her little picnic.

The sun was setting and coloring the rolling hills with the most beautiful oranges, reds, pinks, and purples. As she set up, she gazed at the beauty and couldn’t believe that such a place could truly be real. She took out each of the candles and set them around the gazebo, holding one in her hand. Tamlin had mentioned before, both in the early days and while they trained, that he suspected she might have powers beyond what a normal human would. He said he could feel them thrumming and calling out to his magic, and, if she was being honest, she could somewhat understand what he meant. Any time he entered a room, she could feel a buzzing beneath her skin. Whether it was attraction or magic or both, she wasn’t positive.

With a desire to slake her curiosity, she focused on the candle. What were they always saying in books and movies? Set your intent? Manifest? She focused on the tiny wick of the red candle and thought as hard as she could of a little flame appearing there. With a start, the candle roared to life with far more intensity than she had imagined, and it sent Penny reeling back.

“Jesus!” The candle fell and she blew it out before it could catch anything else on fire. “We’ll be sticking with matches from now on.” She lit the half-warped and melted candle with a match this time and set it out to burn beneath the darkening sky.

She could hardly believe as she laid back and watched the stars start to twinkle to life on the edges of the twilight that she was the same girl who had curled into herself on the couch each night, her back to the windows and her heart closed to anything new.

She took a deep breath. Thankful. She was so goddamn thankful that she had fallen here. Even if it was a mess right now. Even if Tamlin was furious with her. This life was more than she could have ever imagined. She had pushed him into writing that letter, and she did feel bad that she’d put him in a position that caused him so much anguish. She hoped he would listen when he returned, and that this wouldn’t get in the way of the friendship, or whatever it was, blooming between them.

Penny recalled his breath at her ear in the foyer earlier. The way it had skirted over the skin of her neck like the caress of a lover. She had been seconds away from tilting her head back into it. If Lucien hadn’t shown up when he had, she likely would have. She couldn’t deny the feelings that grew inside her for Tamlin. She never clicked this way with anyone, never felt understood this way. All her dates had been a waste of time, but with him she felt like she could tell him every thought without judgment.

He was a work in progress, but so was she. She knew he was working to be better, and she had meant everything she’d said to Lucien earlier. She pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes with a groan. She’d hurt him today. Unintentionally, of course, but he had every right to be upset. She only hoped that when he did return, he would be willing to hear her out so she could apologize.

A snapping twig from the woodline had Penny shooting up on the gazebo. Fuck, had she brought anything that would work as a weapon? She fumbled around for the cheese knife in the basket while watching the tree line furiously. There could be any number of monsters out there. She tried to recall any of the ones discussed in the books and desperately tried to recall how she might save herself while she simultaneously calculated how quickly she could get to the house. Most, if not all, the staff was gone because she’d sent them home. Would any of the sentries across the grounds hear if she screamed?

Then, from the treeline broke the figure of Tamlin. Her body sagged with relief and she almost laughed. Without warning, and as though she had no control of her body at all, she staggered up and ran across the expanse of grass towards him.

“Tamlin?” She called out. His head snapped up, and when he saw her his face broke into the most incredible smile. It stopped her breath straight in her chest, so much so that she halted steps away from him.

“Penny.” Her name came out as a whisper on his breath. He took a step forward.

“Yes?” She responded, equally breathless in the moment.

“I am so sorry. I am so sorry I left.”

“No. Tamlin, I’m sorry. I put you in such a shit position. I should have listened to you.” Another step closer.

“I shouldn’t have left. You had every right to write to them. You have every right to everything. I would never stop you. I would never hold you back. You know that, right?” Penny could see the silver lining his eyes at the admission and his hands twitching as though he was restraining himself from reaching for her. She didn’t have to guess what he was remembering. She closed the final step between them and took his hands.

“I know, Tam. I know. It’s alright. I am here because I want to be. I am here with you.” His body sagged against hers, the relief pouring out of him, and she laid her head against his chest. She could hear his heart racing against her cheek. “Are you hungry? I was having a picnic.” He chucked above her, wetly, and she wondered if he might have been crying.

“Sure, Penny. Show me to your picnic.” They parted, but he didn’t drop her hand, and she was glad for it.

The two sat in the gazebo as the sun fully set and the rest of the stars came to life around them.

“In a way, I am grateful you know everything that happened already.” Tamlin said through a mouthful of bread.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It keeps me accountable.” She could tell the events of the day were weighing heavily on him.

“Penny, I know you know, but can I tell you what happened?” She’d never seen him look so open.

“Of course you can. I’m here, and I’m listening.”

He began by telling her about his parents. How his mother did the best she could as the Lady of Spring, but that she and his father truly couldn’t stand each other. They’d been mates, but it had never been a match of love. His older brothers had always fought for dominance and for the promise of the throne, but Tamlin had been spared that by being the youngest by far. It had not, however, spared him of his father’s cruelty.

“My father was a lot like Beron in many ways. He could not abide by any form of perceived weakness in his bloodline. He kept my mother on a leash, and he kept me and my brothers at each other’s throats. With no claim to the throne, he sent me off to the war bands when I was all but still a child. I didn’t even get to finish my education here as my brothers did. For a long time, the only friend I did have was Rhysand.” He quieted here as he gazed off at the distant stars. “He saw how lost I was and he took pity on me, I think. I thought of him as a brother–the first light I ever remember having in my life.” He swallowed hard.

“I’d come home–planned to run away once I returned to the war camps. Rhys had told me that there would always be a place for me in his home in the Night Court, and I planned to run. He had told me his mom and sisters would meet me, so we’d arranged a plan. Once everything I needed was packed, I went to leave, but my mother caught me as I tried to go. She looked so crushed, and it wasn’t her fault. None of this was. When she asked where I planned to go, I told her. I didn’t want her to worry–I couldn’t stand being the cause of any more of her misery. But once I had told her and went to kiss her goodbye, my father stepped out of the shadows behind her. He’d heard everything, and he whipped me within an inch of my life. He locked me in the crypts while he went to kill them.” The tears were rolling down his face as he spoke, remembering in vivid detail the worst nights of his life.

“I knew my father was cruel; I’d never been under any illusions about what he was. But I never would have knowingly had any part in it. He released me when he returned home after her’d slaughtered them. I was already plotting how I could kill him.” He gasped like he’d been holding his breath and forgotten to come up for air.

“Then Rhys and his father were there. They’d killed my father, mother, and brothers before I even understood they were in the manor. It all happened so fast that, when the power jumped to me and Rhys’ father tried to kill me, I just reacted. Then he was dead, too. Everyone I had known and cared for was dead. I tried to explain to Rhys what had happened, but he wouldn’t let me. Suddenly, I was the High Lord of Spring with no idea of what to do. How could I know? My father had cut off my lessons. All I knew was violence and war. I was a savage with a crown.”

Penny grabbed for his hand in the dark, tears burning through her eyes now, too.

“I burned their wings the same week my father died. I cried and cried under the night sky. I had no one left, and I felt like it was my fault. I tried for years to be a good ruler, but I was so angry. I looked for someone to blame because I needed that to rely on. Lucien helped–he helped so much. It seemed like I was just finally starting to get everything under control when Amarantha came.” His breath shuttered out at the mention of her name.

“I caused so much suffering just because of who I was. So many lives lost on the off chance we might break the curse. The guilt overwhelmed me for decades, and then when the opportunity” –he spit the word– “basically fell into my lap, I had no idea what to do. Feyre was wild and she hated me, and I was never any good at talking to people. Lucien was always much better at that.” Penny leaned up against Tamlin’s side and wound their fingers together.

“Do you miss him?”

He choked on a sob. “Every single day. Lucien was my first friend in centuries. I treated him horribly, and he left me. He should have left me. Everyone left me, but I always thought I would have him.” She felt the tears drop from his chin onto her shoulder.

“I should have done more. I should have done everything differently. I should have fought for Feyre under the mountain, but I thought if I did that Amarantha would kill her. I should have given her more consideration when we got home, but I could barely get out of my own bed for fear. I was paralyzed with worry for her, even as a fae. I had watched her die, and it seemed like she wanted to put herself right back into danger at every turn, and my only instinct was to protect her. I went about it all wrong, and I fucked everything up. When she left with Rhys, all I could see was another thing taken from me. I never imagined that for her it was freedom.” He said miserably.

“It seemed like he stole her–he made it seem that way. He was my enemy and had been for hundreds of years. I assumed this was another form of revenge. He’s the most powerful daemati in Prythian, we just assumed he was in her head. Why wouldn’t we? And Feyre tried to tell us. She tried to send word that she was safe. She was happy. But Feyre couldn’t even read let alone write while she was here, so of course we imagined it a forgery. I feel so stupid looking back. All I wanted to do was protect her, but I was blind to every possible thing. I dragged us into war because of it, and I will never forgive myself.” The tears were falling in big drops down onto her arm now.

“I have regretted it every single day since. I tried my best to make up for it in the war and the time since, but the damage is done. They’ll only ever see me as a monster. And they’re right. I let it all paralyze me, and then when I did something, it couldn’t have been a worse mistake. I will spend the rest of my days making up for it, but I will always be the monster they think I am.” His voice cracked on the last admission. Penny turned and reached up to touch his face. Her thumbs brushed the tears over his cheeks.

“Tamlin, you are not a monster. We have all made mistakes. But a monster is not concerned with whether or not he remains one. You are a good male. You have a heart full of love, or this wouldn’t affect you the way it does. I see you, Tamlin. I know what it feels like to be paralyzed by your fear. But I see you fighting it every day. I wouldn’t have stayed if I didn’t.” His eyes had closed, and he leaned his forehead against hers.

“I am very glad to have met you, Penny Briggs.”

“Me too, Tamlin. Me too.” She whispered.

The moon had risen high in the sky and the candles burned low when they packed up the food and went back towards the house.

They cleaned everything up in the kitchen and walked up to their rooms. Paused in front of her door, Tamlin gingerly grabbed her hand and raised it to his lips. In turn, he kissed each of her knuckles as she stared at him.

I could kiss him. I could. The thought ricocheted through her mind and, as if in response, his eyes drifted to her lips. He took a deep breath.

“Goodnight then, Penny.” He whispered. And before she could loose a breath or respond, he had dropped her hand and gone through the door to his own room.

As she drifted off to sleep, all she could hear was the string of words in her mind– We should have kissed. We should have kissed. We should have kissed.

#tamlin #tamlin oc #pro tamlin #tamlin x oc #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #elucien #feysand #gwynriel #tamdemption #tamlins hea #a court of thorns and roses au #hope of spring

10 notes · View notes

sl-newsie · 3 months

Text

Query: Q x 00 Agent- Ch. 6: Houseguest

The sound of a door opening jolts me awake. The clock shows 9:45, so Q must have just got out of work.

“Bloody Hell! Did you break into my apartment?” The geek shouts from behind me.

“Good evening, Q.” I try to turn my head to see him better. He’s wearing a different shirt, no doubt having sweated through the other one due to all the stress at work. “Eve gave me the entry code. Not breaking in at all. Nice cats, by the way.”

All 3 cats have settled next to me on the couch with lazy expressions. Q ignores my comment and walks over to stand in front of me. I can see he’s been working hard today from the dark circles under his eyes, making me wonder how Bond’s doing.

“Eve gave you the code to my apartment? She failed to mention you were coming. What happened?”

“When I got home I found out my apartment had been broken into, so Eve told me to come here. You have no idea how glad I am that you’ve got a real security system.” Q’s bewildered expression changes to one of concern as he walks over to sit next to me. “I’d have made dinner but didn't mean to pry into your kitchen. Your sense of style is certainly unique. Clean, but more colorful than I expected.”

Q stares at the floor. “You didn’t file a report. You went back out in broad daylight with nothing but a cat and a loaded pistol. Do you realize how dangerous that is?”

Is he serious? My life has been compromised to terrorists and he’s lecturing about protocol?

“Far be it from me to disappoint you, Quartermaster,” I respond cockily. “I am still alive.”

“Barely. That kind of recklessness can get you killed.”

He stands up, walks to the kitchen, and pulls out tupperware containers from the fridge. Oh no, this conversation is not over!

“I call it being creative. I’m a mess of nerves anyway, mine as well act on it.”

Q sticks the food in the microwave. “You should be used to nerves by now, 0011. As you like to say, ‘it comes with the job.’”

He talks about this as if it’s everyday news. 00 agents are supposed to have a short lifespan, and this espionage business keeps threatening to shorten my life even more.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. “It doesn’t help when every gangster or idiot with a gun is out for my head.” The pressing thought pounds in my head and begins to tear apart the mask keeping my fear hidden. “My name could be on that list too.”

My Quartermaster doesn’t answer. The continuous ringing of the microwave is the only sound. He’s not going to care. If he felt having friends was weak then he’ll surely laugh at my pathetic nerves-

Now Q walks back over and sits down again. Great, another lecture- “You think I don’t know that?”

His tone is the thing that sticks out most. It’s softer, almost vulnerable. “You seem to dislike me so much, I thought you’d be welcoming of the idea of me getting snuffed out.”

This triggers an unexpected reaction from Q. I feel a large, warm hand cover my tiny one. When I look up, Q’s set his jaw straight and is looking me straight in the eye.

“I’d never let anyone hurt you.”

Q isn’t one for emotion, so he must be joking. “Why? So you can keep seeing me get beaten to a pulp, only to be stitched back up for you to laugh at my weakness?”

His eyes widen by a fraction. “You really believe that? I don’t think you’re weak, 0011. You’re one of the best agents I’ve ever worked with.”

I can’t keep quiet anymore! “This is why I think you’re delusional to friendship, Q. All you do is talk about work. And that’s alright, but don’t expect people to like you when you keep such a cold demeanor.”

Now Q’s getting angry too. I guess we never know when to quit arguing. “I focus on work because it’s what I’m best at! What else am I supposed to talk about?”

I frantically gesture to his apartment. “Look around! You have so many hobbies and talents, any one of them would be amazing topics to talk about!”

“Oh, now look who’s delusional! You actually think I’m talented-” Q retorts sarcastically.

“I do, you stupid Quartermaster! You’re one of the most brilliant men I’ve ever met! If I wasn’t stuck on this couch I’d storm out right now.”

As a response Q walks around and grabs my shoulders as a way to pin me to the couch. “You’re not going out there when your cover’s been blown. Since you’re already here, you can sleep on the couch.”

I try to protest but Q walks back to the kitchen and brings over the leftovers from the microwave. He hands me a bowl of chicken and rice, and as I take a bite my taste buds sing with approval and melt away my anger.

“This is delicious! You are a man of many talents, Q.”

He takes a bite himself. “Thank you, praise towards my cooking is always appreciated. I would cook something fresh but as you know work’s been a hassle.”

I look at him as if he just grew wings. “Q, the workplace has been the equivalent of a dumpster fire. You look like you’re about to pass out.” I lift myself into my wheelchair, grab the empty bowls, and head to the kitchen sink.

“Ah, 0011, what do you think you’re doing?”

I start rinsing the dishes. “Doing cleanup so you can sleep.”

“But-”

“No ifs ands or buts. If the MI6 Quartermaster isn’t fit for duty then we all suffer.” I point to the stairs. “Shower. Bed. Now.”

Q, still flabbergasted, slowly walks over to the bottom of the staircase. “Are you ordering me around in my own home?”

“I’m highly suggestive as a concerned houseguest.” I finish drying the bowls and wheel past Q to reposition myself on the couch. “Now for the last time, go to sleep!”

The nerd hesitantly complies, slowly climbing the stairs. I think I hear him mutter “So bossy” before he reaches the top and I can’t help but smile. Q should be allowed to take a break, even if he is annoying at times. Can’t blame him, though. This whole week’s been tough on everybody. After about 20 minutes he reappears in flannel pajama pants and a sleep shirt which makes him, quite frankly, outright adorable. I won’t sugarcoat it. His floppy hair is wet and unkempt, adding to an appearance that almost makes him unrecognizable from the man I see at work. Q gets a glass of water, mutters a quick “goodnight,” and then quickly retreats up the stairs again. I must have lost a large amount of blood to be this incoherent.

Eventually Cricket comes down to lay next to me, and as I drift off more thoughts fly through my head. Are Bond and M safe? The fear of being assassinated may be unnerving but the idea of attending Bond’s funeral is even more alarming.

#quartermaster x reader #quartermaster #q x reader #james bond #daniel craig #ben whishaw #skyfall #spectre #no time to die #007 #james bond 007

11 notes · View notes

dxppercxdxver · 5 months

Text

tagged in '20 questions for fic writers' by my good pal @chiropteracupola! ty friend :3 (i think much of this will be similar to the last one of these i did. Oh Whale.)

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

29!

2. what’s your total ao3 word count?

145,559

3. what fandoms do you write for?

i have never written for one fandom Consistently but i suppose at the moment the fandom occupying most of my time is the old Team Fortress 2. but like mine and @chiropteracupola's Old Timey version (shoutout to you flintlock fortress <3). but i also have been somewhat plugging away at an rls kidnapped fic so

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Out Of the Blue (detroit: become human/detroit evolution)

Take it From the Top (detroit: become human/detroit evolution)

Cardamine (detroit: become human)

I Loved You, I Always Do (detroit: become human/detroit evolution)

Cigarettes and Outer Space (detroit: become human/detroit evolution)

i am. Noticing A Trend lmao (also not one but Two richard edwards lyrics titles. hmm.)

5. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

sooooometimes? occasionally i am moved by the desire to Empty Out My Inbox, at which point i reply to all the unread comments in there, but otherwise i normally reply to comments by friends and comments on more recent fics. the older stuff, especially the de artfest stuff, gets more frequently ignored lmao (although someone commented the loveliest thing the other day on one of those fics <3)

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

there are several in contention for this! (i feel) an overwhelming need (the moors) is a character study from a very upsetting play wherein the protagonist is literally eaten at the end, which is A Bit Not Good. i can't stand to see you bleed (the wolf and the watchman) has a more ambiguous ending but also ends with the distinct possibility that cecil will just straight up Die a few minutes off page and everyone is very sad about it. blizzard of pumice piled six feet high (goncharov) does of course end with mutually assured destruction and a fun little murder-suicide-murder situation that they are both resignedly sad about. there are a couple others that Are Angsty but not so much as these i think

7. what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

once again, a couple options here! first is leave your body at the door (killjoys), which is a huge epic of legacy and mourning and ends with a bittersweet but also incredibly triumphant chapter about love and family. much as the ending itself is tinged with sadness, considering the amount of Torment we had to get through to wind up there puts this fic on the map for this category! alsoooo i think The (G)Hosts of Satellite's Past (mystery science theater 3000) gets up there, because it's basically just. tooth-rottingly sweet found family nonsense in space

8. do you get hate on fics?

not that i can remember? but it's also entirely possible i've just deleted a few of those comments and subsequently forgotten about them lmao. although it must be said that someone commented on my mst3k fic being VERY NITPICKY about my adherence to the given canon of the show and the liveshows and the livestreams and i'm like. bitch. i have not watched every livestream ever and i do not pay attention to the liveshows. also the show's canon can't agree with itself leave me alone shshjsjhs

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

uhhh i did a couple times at one point? but that was many years ago and it was never published. nowadays i've almost considered it exclusively for The Bit (ie relationships where I Think It Would Be Terribly Funny) but also The Bit has not yet overcome my Anxiety and Lack Of Skill. buuuut i will occasionally write The Craziest Metaphorical Shit You Will Ever See. meaning. that cannibalism is also an allegory y'know?

10. do you write crossovers? what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

i've certainly pondered many in my time but i'm unsure i've actually published any— WAIT I JUST REMEMBERED SPYTOWN IN THE MIDDLE OF THAT SENTENCE. whoopsies. so yes! i do! i've only published one of them and it was a spies are forever/hadestown crossover that got Massively bigger than i ever intended (so much fanart! curt mega saw one of the pieces! hadestown official put one of the pieces on their story! shoutout to all you lovely artists and writers! @szollibisz / @considerablecolors / @teethworm / @owen-not-carvour <333333). there is also an Ancient artifact buried in my google docs that hasn't seen the light of day that's. a voltron: legendary defender/crazyhead crossover? to date it's one of my longest incomplete works and rereading it, despite how old it is, is remarkably pleasant like i was possessed by some sort of Good At Writing gremlin and it's surprisingly good. wonder if i should dredge some of that monstrosity up someday.....

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of? but also i'm not sure why i Would know that

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

if i have, no one has credited me or informed me of it

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

in terms of unpublished works, i have written So many fics with @nico-demons, since we were cringey middle schoolers together, but when looking at what's actually on my ao3, the only collaboration is with @chiropteracupola! while we don't actually share documents writing our flintlock fortress works, we have a massive shared bank of Lore and double check with each other constantly while we're working on our fics. so it's co-written not in practicality, but in literally every other capactiy

14. what’s your all time favourite ship?

o god i never have an answer for this. i cycle through fandoms so quickly it's hard for ships to have a huge staying power? but given that we're entering year two of this ship in earnest and year like. seven. of this ship in a half-pondered capacity, i'm gonna have to give it to joel robinson/mike nelson of mystery science theater! they will never ever leave my head!!!!!

15. what’s a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

oof i have a Couple of these. first and foremost is contagion (gravity falls), a monster falls/timeskip gravity falls concept that i plotted SO MUCH OF and then got so intimidated by i could only write a couple pages before feeling like whatever i wrote wouldn't match up with what i'd been imagining. much as i'd love to muscle through someday and actually get the concept down, i find it Unlikely that'll ever actually happen. same with a joel/mike mst3k fic concept that i've been kicking around for a couple years surrounding mike's return to earth and trying to find joel again. once again, i got out over my skis and got so scared of executing the concept it's hard for me to imagine i ever get to it shjshjs

16. what are your writing strengths?

i've been told on numerous occasions that i'm really good at mimicking character voice (and possibly author voice, but that's usually more secondary)! i have a very sound and rhythm based memory, so writing dialogue has always been a strong point of mine, as i can basically hear what the character would be saying in their way of saying it. i also consider myself really good at crafting well thought out/intricate plots!

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

FINISHING THINGS. JESUS CHRIST. i'm so bad at mustering any sort of followthrough on projects that are either longer than my usual or i've been working on past a couple of weeks of inspiration. a part of this i'm Sure is the adhd but also i'm miserable at writing anything to completion past a few one shots.

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

depends on the context, depends on the language. flintlock fortress in particular has characters of Many Nationalities coming together in a very specific context? thus far i've been rather loath to write extended sections of dialogue in other languages, but i can usually manage small sections, especially french (took it for three years in high school and apparently Something stuck). otherwise i tend to skirt around it or double check with people more familiar with it

19. first fandom you wrote for?

i was discussing this with @chiropteracupola the other day actually!! my first fic Ever saved to my google drive is a wild kratts/my little pony crossover! and i would continue to cross mlp over with Many Things! so i would say my little pony was my first written-for fandom, purely based on the fact that it served as such frequent crossover material

20. favourite fic you’ve written?

this is an interesting one! i have a few fics that have a special place in my heart for different reasons. i'm incredibly fond of Try Again, Die Again (detroit: become human/detroit evolution) because i felt insanely clever and actually managed to execute the concept i wanted in a way that was very close to what i originally imagined. it's one of my more action-packed stories and upon rereading it i'm actually still really proud of it. another one i'm extraordinarily fond of is strangely enough Where The Sun Can't Find Me (spies are forever), which is a short little werewolf!curt one shot! just the right amount of Meat to appeal to me and i really like the prose style i went with for it. honorable mention once more goes to leave your body at the door (killjoys) but i've talked about her already so. Moving On. lastly i loooove don't give it a hand, offer it a soul (team fortress 2/haunted by your hand crossover), because it's a Ghost Story and Ghost Romance and A Little Gross and Full Of Sadness. what fun what fun :3

taggin'! @nico-demons, @firstmatedville, @considerablecolors, @natdrinkstea, and @wilhelmina-murray-harker :3

#wowie! a long post!#radio free junebug #my writing #captain cupola #i refuse to tag fandoms for these <3 #tag game

14 notes · View notes