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beckettj · 2 months

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The Heart of a Villan - Chapter 1/5

It only seems right that I post the first chapter of this self-indulgent fic (combining two of my favourite things - CS and AVFC) on my birthday! The other four chapters to follow weekly.

Chapter One - Amongst Devils and Villans

Summary: Three-thousand miles from home, Henry drags Emma into a land she never imagined venturing to; the realm of English football. She holds no interest in the sport but when she’s approached by Villa Captain Killian Jones, she determines that there could be something in the sport for her after all.

Words: 7.1k exactly

Read on Ao3

“Mom, Mom, look! Look! There it is! Isn’t it amazing?”

Henry bounces enthusiastically in the middle of the closed-off road, pointing to a structure in the near distance, a combination of brick, concrete and steel; their intended destination, so help her.

Emma shakes her head, “It’s just a building, Henry.”

His jaw drops and his eyes boggle as if they’re about to burst out of his head.

“Just a building?” he repeats incredulously and points to it once more, as if she’d mistakenly looked at the wrong one, like it is easy to miss as it towers over the trees and houses which line either side of it. “That stadium is a fortress, older than you and I combined!”

A grand total of thirty-eight years. It didn’t take much beating.

Henry continues his spiel, “It’s been home to Aston Villa football club since eighteen-ninety-seven. It’s withstood the tests of time, adapting and growing with the support its amassed. Games have been won, drawn and lost here, there have been many highs and many lows but that stadium has stood strong through it all. It draws in crowds of over forty-thousand and today we get to be a part of that!”

She certainly can’t fault the kid for his passion, but it is a passion she most definitely does not share. She has no interest in watching grown men chase a sphere of air around, and yet that is precisely what lies in store for her afternoon.

Curse her parents for organising a surprise trip to London for Henry’s spring break. Curse her dad specifically for securing tickets to a soccer game. And curse her dad three times over for coming down with food poisoning, forcing her into being the one to accompany an indescribably excitable Henry on a two-hour train journey from London to Birmingham ahead of what he described as ‘the greatest match of his life’.

The second train – the one towards the outskirts of Birmingham – had been, by far, the worst. They had been packed like sardines and motherly instincts had kicked in, Emma clinging to Henry for dear life so not to lose him. The carriage had stunk, a pungent concoction of beer and sweat, making the thirteen-minute journey hell. Henry had been in his element, surrounded by claret and blue shirts, his face lighting up like Christmas morning, as he joined in with the chants and was doused in beer when the train had unexpectedly jerked.

He remains in his element, soaking in the developing atmosphere around the so-called fortress that was Villa Park. There remains an hour-and-a-half before the game is due to kick off but Henry had been insistent on arriving early, talking relentlessly about the club store, programmes and watching the players warming up – as if he isn’t about to watch them play for ninety minutes.

Whose idea was it to make soccer matches ninety minutes long?

The things you do for your children.

“Mum, come on,” Henry urges, and he rushing as if they’re about to miss kick-off. “The store’s this way.”

If Emma thought the growing horde of people on the street were overwhelmingly claret and blue, the club store is, impossibly, even more consumed by the colour scheme. Everywhere she looks, she’s met by a sea of claret and blue.

There’s no escape.

Henry is like a kid in a sweet shop, using his small size to manoeuvre effortlessly through the tiny, cramped, oversubscribed matchday store. By the time he returns to her he’s struggling to carry everything he’s collected, a heap of clothes and other products in his arms. There’s a beaming smile on his face and she doesn’t have the heart to let him down, to make him choose a few things, so she agrees to it all – they’re on vacation, she can worry about it when they’re back in Maine and far away from the unpleasantness of the crowded soccer store.

She helps him with his haul, carrying a claret and blue scarf, baseball cap, water bottle and backpack for him as they squeeze through people to join the queue at the checkout. They wait their turn, weaving through the queue barriers as the line slowly goes down, Henry talking non-stop the whole way, rambling about players and tactics, his words flying straight over her head.

Emma’s relief is strong upon reaching the front of the queue, gaining a temporary relieve from Henry’s excited ramblings. She drops the items in her hands onto the cashier’s desk, on top of the pile Henry’s already formed, and the cashier eyes the haul with faint amusement.

“First time?” she asks.

“Yeah!” Henry nods eagerly. “But hopefully not the last!”

Emma sure hopes it’s her last. Her dad would take the next one, even if she has to contract food poisoning herself to ensure it.

“You chose a good match for your first one. Nick three points from Man U here today and we slip into that Champions League spot. Should make for a good atmosphere,” the cashier remarks as she scans each item through the till. “Who’s your favourite player?”

Emma knows this one. She knows she does. Or she should; Henry talks about him twenty-four seven. It starts with a ‘J’, she knows that much; James… Jense…

“Jones!” Henry answers. “He scores the best screamers.”

Emma raises an eyebrow. He scores what now?

“Do you want printing on your shirt?” the cashier asks as she scans the soccer shirt through the till.

Henry looks to Emma for her permission, momentarily taking her by surprise. It’s the first time since entering the store that he has stopped to consider the restraints of money. She sticks by her earlier decision; they are on vacation.

“Whatever you want, kid,” she encourages him.

Henry’s grin impossibly widens and he turns back to the cashier, making his request, “Jones and the number nine please.”

“Good choice,” the cashier smiles at him. “Bear with me one moment and I’ll get that all sorted for you.”

She crosses to the workstation at the back wall of the till, getting to work lining up the letters on the shirt.

Henry turns to Emma, “Can I put the shirt on when it’s ready?”

Emma’s unsure, imagining him disappearing in the sea of claret and blue on the street. A glance out the window confirms it’s only getting busier out there but when she looks back at him, his soft, brown, puppy-dog eyes melt her worries away and she relents, “Sure thing, kid.”

He tilts his head and proposes, “Don’t you think you should get a shirt?”

“Not a chance, Henry,” she responds immediately.

“A hat then?”

“No way.”

“A coat?”

“Nope.”

“A scarf?”

“No.”

“This then,” Henry picks up a claret and blue pen, complete with the Aston Villa logo, from the shelves below the cashier desk. “You can never have too many pens.”

“Fine,” Emma agrees, if only to subdue his pestering.

He smiles triumphantly and adds the pen to the pile of items still awaiting their venture through the till. The cashier returns with the printing on the shirt completed and promptly processes the rest of their items, all the while Henry excitedly tells her his predictions for the game.

Emma very nearly falls over in shock when the final total flashes onto the screen. Whoever would have thought slapping a lion badge onto a claret and blue item would make it double in price? She’s very nearly leaving the store with one less arm and leg than she had entered with. She recovers from the initial surprise, repeats her mantra in her head – we’re on vacation – and completes the purchase.

MATCHDAY PROGRAMMES £3.50

Henry grabs her hand and pulls her into another queue the moment he notices the sign on the little kiosk just a few feet from the stadium. He looks the part now; his claret and blue shirt matching those of others in the line. It’s a short, fast-moving queue and they get to the front to discover the kiosk doesn’t accept card which makes her look the fool as she continues to struggle to get her head around which British coin represents which value. The man at the stall helps her out and she can only trust that he hasn’t ripped her off.

Henry keenly takes the programme from the man’s outstretched hand and wastes no time in looking at it.

“Mom, look! Jones is on the front cover!” Henry excitedly exclaims.

Emma rolls her eyes. Of course he is. Jones this. Jones that. He might as well be renamed ‘Mr Aston Villa’.

Henry waves the programme in her face, trying to show her but his hand is so unsteady all she initially sees is a blur of claret and blue. Eventually he calms and the programme steadies in her hand, allowing her a good look at the Jones that her son so often raves about.

“Woah!” the utterance escapes from her subconscious.

She regresses to a teenager all over again, ogling a hot celebrity in her favourite magazine. It’s ridiculous and yet there she stands, mesmerised by piercing blue eyes and a roguish smirk which screams ‘I’m good and I know I am’ but in a hot, self-assured way as opposed to brash arrogance.

“Woah what?” Henry eyes her suspiciously.

“Woah… he,” she drags the word out and thinks fast, reading off the programme’s subheading – saved by the print, “is making his three-hundredth competitive club appearance today. That… that is some achievement.”

That starts Henry off on reeling the player’s entire history off to her, detailing the day he signed for Villa and where he’d signed from. Emma lets him spurt the information off as she silently rejoices in getting away with one there. She composes herself as Henry recounts his favourite goal of Jones’.

“Come on, kid,” she prompts Henry once he’s done. “It’s about time we get inside the stadium, don’t you think?”

“Woah!” Henry breathes out, utterly fascinated as they step out of the stairway and into the stand, taking in the sight of the stadium before them.

Even Emma has to admit it’s impressive. They are halfway up the stand, seats descending to pitch side in front of them and more rising higher behind them. The pitch looks immaculate – each blade of grass cut to precision – the greenest green Emma recalls ever seeing; the stage set and the audience beginning to congregate, staggered across all four stands in the near forty-three-thousand capacity theatre. The spring sun sneaks between the gap in between their stand and the one to their left, lighting up the pitch impeccably and providing an appreciative warmth to the open air venue.

People mull around the stadium, heading to their seats, wearing their claret and blue shirts outright or throwing them over the top of a hoodie for added warmth. She can’t shake the feeling that she sticks out like a sore thumb. The strong red of her jacket stands out against the dull claret of the home supporters and she quickly notices that where she holds paper tickets – printed by her father in the hotel reception – most fans are carrying season cards, proudly broadcasting themselves as frequent visitors.

She fully embraces the tourist look by asking a steward for help finding their seats, the combination of letters and numbers and blocks and rows nothing short of confusing. As much as she had frowned and scowled at the tickets, it had refused to become any clearer.

The steward kindly leads them towards their seats and, where Emma had been expecting to be led upwards, she leads them down the stairs, each step taking them closer to the front of the stand.

“Mom, look how close we are getting to the pitch!” Henry breathes out excitedly.

His eyes widen as they get closer and closer and when the steward finally stops, she’s at the front row, putting a hand out to indicate down it.

“No way!” Henry exclaims.

Yes way.

The steward encourages them to continue on down the row, telling Emma that the number on her tickets will match the ones on the seats a little further down the row. She thanks her and they are quickly able to find their seats, just along from the left post of the goal.

“This is incredible!” Henry marvels as he leans forward onto the low railing in front of him, staring onto the pitch mere metres away.

“Make sure you thank your grandpa when we get back tomorrow evening,” Emma tells him.

He nods absently, preoccupied and mesmerised by the view in front of him. When the players emerge from the tunnel, jogging onto the pitch to commence their warmup, Henry jumps to his feet, bouncing excitedly as he sees his favourite players in the flesh for the first time. He points each player out to her, naming them and spieling off facts and statistics which she ultimately zones out, just nodding and responding ‘oh yeah?’ intermittently.

Her own attention is captured by Jones as he leads a line of players in a series of stretches, instructed by their coach. He’s just as the picture on the front of the programme had captured him – his blue eyes really are that blue and he carries and conducts himself with the same confidence that had oozed off the page. There’s a precision to each stretch he executes, a focused determination to do things properly, to give himself his best chance ahead of the game.

As inviting as Jones is on the eyes, even he can’t pique her interest in his sport for the second the stretching session is over and he has the football at his feet, engaging in drills with his teammates, she grows bored. Her attention turns to her phone, checking in on her parents and filling them in on Henry’s experience so far, sending over some photos.

The players finish their warmups and head back down the tunnel, the stands really starting to fill up as kick-off grows nearer and the music blaring around the stadium builds with the atmosphere.

Henry’s excitement is at an all time high, unable to keep still on his seat and he grins at her as he says, “It’s nearly time for kick-off!”

Perfect. Just ninety more minutes until freedom.

The players re-emerge from the tunnel to great fanfare; the opposing players exchange a series of handshakes before taking their positions ahead of kick-off. The claret and blue players originally position themselves in the half closest to her and Henry – who all but screams in her ear about how close he is to Humbert and Booth – until a whistle from the referee changes things.

Both teams switch ends and the stadium descends into a pantomime, the crowd booing the players in red as they jog to the positions vacated by the home side just moments prior. Emma doesn’t understand the grievance among the crowd who swiftly lead into a booming and unanimous; ‘Who the fuck, who the fuck, who the fucking hell are you, who the fucking hell are you?’ chant and she’s extremely surprised to hear Henry screaming it at the top of his innocent voice.

“Henry!” she says, stifling chuckles.

He looks at her innocently, “What?”

“Language.”

“We’re at the football, Mom. It doesn’t count at the football.”

Emma’s momentarily thrown by his use of the word ‘football’ – since when was her son British? She opens her mouth to argue but Henry jumps into the next chant, pointing aggressively towards the opposition goalkeeper accompanied by the majority of the home crowd as they present a repetitive rendition of, ‘wanker, wanker, wanker’. Emma is left wondering just what the player had done to illicit such a reception and when, exactly, her son had developed an affinity for British insults.

The referee blows his whistle and the game begins, prompting a roar from the crowd, living up to the lion which stands pride of place on the club badge.

The time on the electronic scoreboard ticks by ever so slowly – one team kicks the ball around for a bit until the other team gets it and does exactly the same. Neither appears to be in too much of a hurry to actually put the ball in the back of the net and Emma’s confused because she thought that was the whole point of the game.

Emma can think of a hundred places – perhaps even a thousand – she would much rather be but Henry’s loving it – joining in with chants at the top of his voice and screaming at the referee about decisions and fouls and offside calls – his enthusiastic investment becoming one of the few positives to her experience.

She has long lost interest in watching twenty-two men run around and kick a ball, electing to amuse herself instead by listening to the comments of nearby supporters and wondering whether they had ever heard themselves.

It had started fairly tame;

“I don’t fancy Scarlet, you know.” “You don’t?” “Nah, he’s been off his game the last few weeks.”

But then it got wilder;

“Oh, Jones wants it! Give it to him, Locksley, give it to him!”

“Pereira’s gone through the back of Humbert!”

“Booth needs to step up and fill the hole that Locksley’s left wide open.”

But her favourite of them all was definitely, “Scarlet needs to stop letting Cardozo inside of him!”

Her fun comes to an end with three sharp blows of the referee’s whistle, prompting all the players to disappear once more down the tunnel into the stadium. The stands empty out, hordes of people heading into the concourse. She smiles; freedom at last.

Henry turns to her, “Jones is going to score in the second half, Mom, just you watch. He didn’t get much service that half but when he gets his chance, he’ll take it! All he needs is one shot and bam, goal!”

Second half? Emma sighs. She had forgotten they still had another half to go. The first forty-five minutes had felt like a lifetime.

“Can we get hotdogs?” Henry asks, his requests endless.

She reminds herself of her mantra – we’re on vacation, worry about it later – and agrees.

By the time they return to their seats – thanks to a huge demand for refreshments – the second half is already underway. Henry can breathe again – the kid panicking the entire time they were in the line about missing a goal – the scoreboard remains the same, displaying no goals, and Henry tucks contently into his long-awaited hotdog. Emma follows his lead, both taking their eyes off the game for a moment to bite into their food.

The crowd roars into life around them and a ball comes flying out of nowhere, knocking the hotdog out of Henry’s hand and smashing into his face. Emma’s own hotdog joins Henry’s on the concrete floor, dropping absent-mindedly from her hands as she looks to Henry; his hands cradle his nose, blood leaking heavily through his fingers, tears pouring from his eyes. She grabs the napkin from around her hotdog, moving Henry’s hands from his face and holding the napkin against his nose. It disintegrates from the heavy flow of blood in seconds and her hands grow wet from the fluid. She grabs the napkin from Henry’s hotdog, replacing it with hers.

“Oh, bloody hell!”

Jones has stepped over the advertisement boards and leans on the railings in front of her seat. His blue eyes are not the same piercing, confident ones printed on the programme, instead they’re dull, wide and numbed in horror.

He’s gone, almost as quickly as he seemed to have arrived, running the width of the pitch, waving his arms frantically above his head. Emma gratefully accepts tissues from the woman seated behind her as the second napkin disintegrates beneath her fingers.

Jones returns with two first responders in tow. They jump the railings with ease, taking over from her in tending to Henry. Emma holds her blood-covered hands out helplessly, not entirely processing what was happening.

Henry had just wanted to eat his hotdog and watch his team.

He’d been so excited.

A warm hand touches her arm. Jones is leaning on the railing again and reaching out, to her.

“Are you alright, love?” he asks gently.

She nods absent-mindedly.

“I can only apologise profusely,” he continues.

His eyes shift towards Henry and he scratches at the back of his ear as he watches the boy receive treatment. Emma starts to put the pieces together; a wayward ball, a lingering football player – Jones was the guilty player responsible.

“It’s okay,” she responds vacantly.

She’s too distracted to maintain a conversation, focused entirely on Henry, surrounded by the two first responders. She can’t see what’s happening amongst the mass of hands working on his face, but she clutches his hand tightly, letting him know she’s still there.

“We’re going to move him to our first aid station. We can treat him better there. If you’d please follow behind us,” one of the first responders fills her in.

She nods, still struggling to muster words, shocked by the sudden turn of events. It doesn’t feel real. Flashes of Henry’s excitement prior to the game keep burning into her mind, highlighting the cruel twist of fate. The two first aiders help Henry to his feet, his vision obstructed by the multiple tissues they were holding over his nose. They guide him down the single step and along the walkway, pointing out the big green first aid station sign on the opposite side of the stadium for her benefit. She can see where they’re going, and it’s quite the trek.

The whistle blows to resume the game and the crowds roars once more as the Villa players successfully defend the corner.

“I don’t want to miss the game!” Henry complains, his tears subduing for his fear of missing out to soar.

Emma’s hit by a flood of relief when she hears him speak, even more so when she realises he’s well enough in himself to be concerned about missing the match.

The man beside him laughs, “Spoken like a true Villan.”

“Mum, look! We didn’t miss anything!” Henry can scarcely believe his luck.

He’s bouncing with excitement again and Emma is terrified that the flood of blood from his nose is going to return, aggravated by the movement. She places a hand on his shoulder, a feeble attempt to calm him, as he points to the scoreboard, still reading ‘0-0’.

A series of cold compresses, a couple of pages of paperwork, the administration of pain medication, and a series of checks to make absolutely certain that, by some utter miracle, Henry had escaped without a broken nose, had kept them busy for forty minutes.

There’s five minutes left of normal play and yet Henry is in high spirits. As they follow the steward leading them back to their seats, there’s a residual bounce in Henry’s step as he marvels at how close to the pitch and the players he is. The action is all up on their end too, far away from where they’d be if they were in their seats. The Villa players gather in the opposition’s box, preparing for a corner.

Emma’s eyes scan the mass of claret and blue shirts amongst the red ones, eventually landing on Jones who stands right on top of the penalty spot, watching Locksley as he catches the ball thrown to him by the ballboy.

“Today’s attendance is forty-two-thousand-three-hundred-and-fourteen. We thank you for your support,” booms out over the speakers scattered around the stadium.

Jones’ eyes meet hers, catching her looking at him. She holds firm, not looking away, refusing to back down and hide. He breaks eye contact – too quickly – shifting his gaze, quick and honed in, until his blue eyes land on Henry. The tension appears to physically ride out of Jones’ body; his shoulders loosen, his head lifts higher and a small smile tugs at his lips. His head turns, gaze returning to her, and he mouths, sorry, love.

Emma’s heart skips a beat. Forty-two-thousand-three-hundred-and-fourteen people in the stadium and, out of them all, he acknowledges her. She forces herself to remain calm and keep her composure; he has no other motive for his interest in her besides compassion or guilt, or both. She opts to send him a reassuring smile and hopes she’s not blushing.

The game has reached ninety minutes by the time she and Henry get back to their seats. The announcement of an additional nine minutes of stoppage time is met be a loud, motivational roar from the home supporters, urging their team on to nick the game in the dying moments.

Henry’s eyes light up at the news that he’ll at least see some of the second half. He turns his gaze expectantly to the pitch and jumps into the chant of ‘allez, allez, allez’ the crowd have initiated to spur the players onwards.

Emma finds herself getting drawn in, sitting on the edge of her seat, as she watches not so much the game but one particular player. She is fixated on Jones and even when he’s one of the furthest from the ball, she still watches him; taking control, pointing and shouting as he makes his commands. Her mind wanders back to the sorry, love; the moment he’d taken out of the tense, end-to-end game to apologise once more. Her mind drifts back further, to the comfort he had tried to offer her during Henry’s initial treatment; the warm, light touch of his fingers against her arm. Professional sport stars had always seemed so distant with their high wages and expensive cars and houses; to have been to so close to someone in such a profession and received such genuine concern was a reminder that they were human too. Jones was human, a man who wasn’t just chasing after a ball full of air; he was a man focused on remaining in position, constantly running, looking for his best opportunity to strike, waiting patiently to receive the ball, determining when to press, when to drop back, and when to make runs behind the back line, all whilst giving instruction to his teammates.

Watching Jones, following his every movement, switches something in her mind and everything Henry had been rambling about suddenly made sense. Watching Jones playing on the shoulder of the last man and timing his runs transforms the offside rule from quantum mechanics to adding one and two to make three; something she doesn’t need to think twice about – it’s simple, instantaneous.

Five minutes of stoppage time pass and the tension has grown exponentially. Each time the ball finds its way back to the Villa goalkeeper, there’s an urgent cry from the crowd to get it forward. Emma holds her breath as the goalkeeper does just that, launching the ball through the air, a near desperate punt up-field, one heading towards Jones. He takes the ball under his control with a single touch, eliciting great applause, cheers and murmurs of adoration from the crowd. He moves fast, knocking the ball around his defender, and chasing after it.

One ball, three men all charging for it; Jones in the centre, a straight run to the ball, a defender either side of him, closing down the angle. They’re all close and from Emma’s distance it’s difficult for her to determine who will get there first.

She hopes it’s Jones.

Her hands are clenched close together and she murmurs a faint ‘go, go, go’ under her breath. If he can get to it first, he’ll be ahead of the two defenders, leaving just the goalkeeper to beat.

The defender to Jones’ right opts for a change of plan, adapting the angle of his run so to get into the space that Jones will enter should he get to the ball first. The defender to his left stays on path, eyes fixed on the ball, determined. Jones gets there first, knocking the ball a touch forward; the defender makes a desperate slide, missing the ball and taking Jones’ legs out from under him, sending him flying to the ground.

Emma gasps as the crowd roars in unanimous fury, raising to their feet and screaming at the ref. The referee brandishes a yellow card for the player in red which only increases the infuriation and level of protests amongst the onlookers.

“That’s a clear red! All day long!”

“Are you fucking blind, ref?”

“He’s taken him out!”

Emma grips tightly onto the railings in front of her, too far away to decipher the severity of the stoppage. Jones remains on the ground, the club’s doctors receiving the signal from the referee to approach. As he receives treatment, the crowds erupts into a strong show of support with a chant to the tune of ‘drunken sailor’.

“Scores with his left foot and his right one Slots it in the net for Aston Villa What a player, what a striker! Super Captain Jo-ones!

Super Captain Jones! Super Captain Jones! Super Captain Jones! Can not stop him scoring!”

It’s a joyful tune that the crowd repeats multiple times over with indisputable passion and heart, Henry all-but deafening her as he screams it at the top of his lungs, but Emma does not resonate with the cheeriness. There’s a tense apprehension increasingly rising inside her the longer Jones remains down. She watches him receive treatment to his right knee, nervously hoping he is fit to continue playing. It’s stupid, feeling so concerned about a guy she barely knows, a guy she didn’t care about just an hour ago, and yet her fingers drum impatiently against the cool metal of the claret railing, her other hand gripping it tightly, clinging to what little support she can find.

Her concern is purely fuelled by Henry, she reasons; his special day has already been severely disrupted and she doesn’t want him to face the disappointment of watching his favourite player getting stretchered off.

After what feels like an age, Jones rises to his feet, prompting a huge applause to erupt from the crowd. Emma joins in, a loud whoop even escaping her lips, and Henry chuckles beside her; was it a chuckle of relief? Jones moves to stand on the sidelines and, after most likely making herself sound like a total novice to those around them by asking the question, Henry explains that players who receive medical treatment have to wait at the side of the pitch until waved back on by the referee. He's unable to provide her with a reason why, shrugging, and she’s left none-the-wiser.

On the pitch, Locksley prepares himself to take the subsequent free kick and, as the players all bide their time in taking their positions, Emma returns to an earlier game;

“Right on the edge of the D. Perfect position!”

“Locksley’s a master in these situations.” “I don’t know… he put it straight down the keeper’s throat last time.”

“He’s going for it. He’s giving him the eyes.”

Locksley takes a deep breath in, takes a short run up, and strikes the ball. The crowd collectively holds their breath as the ball lifts over the wall of red players, dips towards the goal, looking certain for the top right corner until a gloved hand appears out of nowhere, tipping the ball over the bar and out of play, a series of ‘oooh’s’ ringing out from the crowd.

The claret and blue players all hurry into their positions for the coming corner. Jones gets waved on by the referee and races to the penalty spot. Emma looks to the scoreboard for the time. It shows one-hundred-and-two minutes, more time added on for Jones’ treatment, making it impossible to know when that final whistle was going to sound.

The crowd remains loud, cheers, applause and chants ringing out from all four stands of the ground, the supporters sensing blood – or hoping and praying against all odds – and persisting in urging the players on. Locksley hastily places the ball at the corner, steps back, raises an arm, and hits it, lifting it dangerously into the box. Emma watches the movement in the box, players on both teams scrambling to gain positions, to get themselves into the path of the ball, to get something, anything, on it. She watches as Jones leaps into the air, throwing himself forwards, his head connecting with the ball, changing its trajectory and sending it riffling into the top left corner of the net.

Emma jumps for joy, a move synchronised with a huge majority of the crowd. If she thought earlier cheers were loud, the one which erupts around the stadium is a whole other level, her ears ringing as she happily joins in, screaming at the top of her lungs, her voice box be damned. Henry throws himself at her, engulfing her in a hug as he jumps up and down.

“I told you! I said Jones would score!” Henry beams.

“You were right, kid,” Emma returns, smiling at his glee at his own prediction coming to pass.

“Look, he’s coming this way!” Henry exclaims.

Emma turns her attention back to the pitch. There’s a big huddle of claret and blue players celebrating with fans in the North Stand but she sees Henry’s correct; Jones has jogged the length of the pitch back to the Holte. He halts momentarily, to exchange a celebratory and extravagant handshake with his goalkeeper, before jogging forwards once more. He nears their stand, prompting the roar of the crowd to increase once more, celebrations restarting as the crowd then dives into their chant for him at full voice.

Jones stops at the edge of the pitch. He points directly to Henry, a gasp of surprise escaping her son’s lips, and, over the roar of the crowd, he yells, “That one’s for you, lad.”

Henry’s jaw drops and he stares mesmerised after his hero as Jones jogs away.

The referee blows the final whistle, the crowd roars a final, deafening roar, players exchange handshakes and then the stadium starts to empty out. Henry insists on remaining in place until all the players have left the pitch – some still undergoing their lap of appreciation around the pitch, clapping the fans for their support. Henry is soaking up every last bit of the matchday experience and Emma can’t blame him for who knew when they’d make it back again? Three-thousand-miles is a long way to travel for a ninety-minute match.

The stand is almost empty when Jones approaches them both, a wry smile on his face, “I’m glad you’re still here. How’re you holding up there, lad?”

Henry stares, utterly starstruck, and Emma has to nudge him.

“I’m okay!” Henry eventually responds and promptly changes topic. “The goal was awesome! You’re awesome!”

“Yeah, nothing broken,” Emma jumps in to provide reassurance after Henry excitedly brushes over it. “Just heavy bruising but it’ll give him a tale to tell his friends back home,” Emma expands.

“And where would home be?” Jones hangs around, showing interest in them. “America?”

Henry nods, “It’s a town called Storybrooke.”

On Jones’ lost look, Emma expands, “It’s in Maine.”

“That’s a fair trek only to receive a ball to the face for your troubles,” Jones comments apologetically. “It would appear I have a lot of making up to do.”

He pulls his shirt off. Emma’s eyes drift downward, unashamed to wish to appreciate the body of a dedicated and hard-working professional athlete. She’s not met by strong, chiselled pecs or rock-hard abs but disappointment as Jones is a tease and wears a blue base layer below his soccer shirt.

Jones hands the soccer shirt to Henry who looks like he’s on the edge of passing out from shock as he takes it, but manages to stumble out a star-struck, “Wow, thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do, lad,” Jones responds with a bemused smile. “It’s a miracle the ball from that clearance didn’t take your head off.”

“If I get your shirt out of it, then it’s worth it!” Henry grins.

He dives eagerly into the carrier bags at their feet, drawing Jones’ attention to them.

“That’s quite the haul you’ve got there,” Jones remarks, sounding impressed.

The comment distracts Henry from whatever it was he had originally gone in for, for he begins pulling each item out of the bag, one-by-one, showing them to Jones. Emma expects Jones to brush him off – he’d done the gesture of the shirt to make up for the ball in the face, he’s well in his right to leave – but Jones stands there, patiently listening and responding, taking time to engage in conversation and make comments about the various items being thrust towards his face. It takes her by surprise but it’s endearing to watch him almost match Henry’s enthusiasm towards the soccer club.

Henry finds the matchday programme towards the bottom of the bag and appears to remember what he’d been doing prior to getting distracted. He holds the programme up to Jones, the latest in the conveyor belt of items he’d been displaying to the Villa Captain.

“Would you be able to sign this for me, please?” he asks.

“Of course I would. But have you got a pen? Because, uh,” he taps either side of his shorts to emphasise, “no pockets.”

Henry turns to Emma and prompts, “Mom?”

His expectant look reminds her that she does have a pen; the very one Henry had coaxed her into buying at the Villa store and then proceeded to refuse to let her put it in any of his three carrier bags in fear of it leaking over his precious merchandise. She retrieves said pen from her jacket pocket – noting that ink leakage hasn’t occurred – and hands it over to Jones. He inspects the pen, noting its colour and branding.

“Ah, so you are a fan! Just choose to sport the opposition’s colours, eh?” Jones teases with a playful smirk.

Henry jumps in before she can find a response, “No, I had to convince her to even get the pen. She doesn’t even like this sport. She’s only here because grandpa ate some funny oysters and got food poisoning.”

Jones chuckles, amused, as he signs Henry’s programme and Emma has to do some damage control, her own son actively jeopardising any small slither of a chance she had with the guy.

“I daresay I’ve been converted by a stand-out performance today,” she declares.

Jones hands Henry his freshly signed programme and raises an eyebrow, humming, “Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm, that Locksley’s quite the player,” Emma ribs. “He can really… stick it in the mixer.”

She silently thanks the supporters stood behind her – long since left – for not only entertaining her with their comments throughout the first half but for helping her to learn some of the soccer lingo so not to appear a total novice in front of such a seasoned pro.

There’s an unreadable gleam in Jones’ eyes as he watches her – she can’t work out if he’s amused or wants to curse her out.

“Given I did boot a ball into your lad’s face, it’s only right I make it up to you by putting a good word in for you with Locks…” Jones muses, and she thinks he’s playing along, “It’s just a shame that the man’s happily married.”

“Well, in that case I’m more than happy to settle for second best,” Emma returns.

“Ah, but would second best be happy to settle for you?” Jones counters.

“If you don’t tell him he’s second best,” Emma replies playfully.

Henry glances between the two of them and interrupts with that youthful honesty, “You two are being weird.”

Emma looks back to Jones, spotting the smirk on his face as he holds back laughter. Emma fails to demonstrate such restraint, bursting into a fit of laughter which prompts Henry to stare at her, utterly bewildered.

As Emma composes herself, a new voice is thrown into the mix.

“Killian, Sky are pushing for an interview.”

That one sentence changes Emma’s mood in an instance. She’s pulled back to reality, a reality in which Jones isn’t some hot guy she’s playfully teasing but a top soccer player who’s only shown her the time of day because he smashed a ball into her son’s face. The television cameras are summoning, calling time on her brief snippet of interaction with Jones. His own guilt subdued, good deed done, he would forget about them both the second he disappeared down that tunnel.

“I’ll be right there,” Jones tells the suited man and he promptly turns back to them both, “Before I go-”

“Oh! I need to show you one more thing!” Henry exclaims eagerly, clinging onto the interaction for dear life, and he spins around to show Jones the back of his shirt. “Look! I’ve got your name and number!”

“Good choice, lad,” Jones smiles warmly at him then turns directly to Emma, seizing the segue, “May I ask for your name and number?”

Emma stares blankly at him and just about manages to keep her jaw from dropping; that, she had not been expecting.

“Only, Scarlet took great pleasure in telling me that my wayward ball knocked your lad’s hotdog out of his hand,” Jones continues casually. “It only seems right that in my efforts to make it up to you both, I ensure that the two of you eat well tonight. That’s assuming, you’re staying in the city?”

“Yeah!” Henry nods eagerly, bouncing up and down. “We’ve got a stadium tour booked tomorrow so we’re staying nearby tonight.”

“Perfect!” Jones grins. “I can get done here and then get in contact, if that’s okay with you?”

Those blue eyes beam into her hopefully and Emma’s brain is scrambled. She can’t work out his intentions, but she knows she’s longing to spend more time with him. She nods slowly.

“In which case, uh, best I’ve got for paper…” he thinks on his feet and taps his left hand with her pen before offering both the hand and the pen to her, stretching his left arm over the railing.

She’s in a haze as she takes the pen and scrawls her number onto the back of his hand.

“Just take a deep breath and go to the game, for Henry,” she recalls her dad’s encouragement prior to ushering her out the hotel room early that morning. “You might even surprise yourself and have some fun whilst you’re there.”

Something tells her that spending the night with Villa Captain Killian Jones was not the ‘fun’ her father had been referring to.

Tags: @teamhook @laianely @booksteaandtoomuchtv @exhaustedpirate @anmylica @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @undercaffinatednightmare @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie @motherkatereloyshipper @soniccat @jrob64 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jonesfandomfanatic @myfearless-love

#cs ff #captain swan #the heart of a villan

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elizalyn · 4 months

Note

Please may I have Fairy tail platonic headcanons of Gray Fullbuster with a little brother age 11 who is exactly like Harry Potter with Harry Potter's personality as well as Harry Potter's personality flaws and everything from the Harry Potter films. He is undeniably a sweet kid and he is a ice mage like Gray as well and he is a member of Team Natsu and a member of Fairy tail. Admittedly he is S class material and he is better than Gray at ice magic and everything and he is a kind boy...and very polite. He doesn't find Danger..it seemed to find him. He was willing to stand up to extremely powerful enemy Wizards to protect his friends no matter what the cost may be..it was a risk and it means asking for death but he is a Fairy tail wizard and if it means he can protect his friends so be it.

Team Natsu's relationship with Gray's sweet little brother.

Gray's relationship with his baby brother

Juvia's relationship with Gray's little brother

Fluffy as well.

Oh man, it’s been a while since I’ve read the books and movie Harry is so different from book Harry. But yes! Of course! Fairy Tail is my favorite anime, it was the first long series I started and even if some people call it childish, I still love it. I honestly wish more people wrote for Fairy Tail. Maybe I'll write some more self-indulgent imagines/headcanons or something after.

A/N: That being said, I am terribly sorry for how long this has taken me. I've been struggling with uni lately which just creates horrid writer's block not to mention just makes me so unmotivated to write in general.

But it's done! And I really hope it's to your liking! I address Gray's younger brother as Little Fullbuster but I honestly could see him named something like Ash or Sterling, just something that fits the colour scheme of Gray and Silver.

Warnings: none! Well, slight spoilers if you haven't seen/read much of the series but nothing really major also, not proofread

Let’s see…

General headcanons

Adored by the entire guild, obviously, how could Gray’s younger brother not be

Looks like a miniature Gray, same black hair, same dark blue eyes

Only difference really is his personality

Unlike Gray’s cold exterior, his little brother is an absolute sweetheart

I can see him making ice sculptures for friends

He’s so much stronger than Gray but so humble about it too

For an 11-year-old he’s so mature (but trauma will do that to a person 😭)

Speaking of trauma though, Little Fullbuster was only a toddler when Deliora attacked

Despite his sweetness, he can be a sarcasm god

Constantly throws witty quips in the conversation

Little Fullbuster learnt magic from Gray rather than Ur

Gray wanted his brother to be able to protect himself and magic was the best way he knew how

Little Fullbuster is pretty stubborn

When he wants to go on a specific mission he usually ends up going

Like Galuna Island

Gray was adamant his brother would stay behind

Little Fullbuster ended up going anyways, following Gray secretly

Natsu welcomed him happily after knocking out Gray

Natsu knows when to put a foot down though when it comes to Gray’s younger brother

He made Little Fullbuster stay behind with the villagers when he and the others went to explore

Relationship headcanons – Gray

Little Fullbester’s sarcasm really shines when he’s with Gray

G: “I don’t care where I get hurt, as long as my in juries are visible” LF: “Clearly, cause you can’t prove your stories otherwise” or something witty like that (I personally am not good at sarcasm 😔)

Gray can be overprotective of Little Fullbuster

Won’t let him go on some missions with the rest of team Natsu because it’s too dangerous

Struggles to let him go on missions without him

Gray honestly doesn’t know what he’d do if he lost his younger brother, they’re all each other have left (aside from their found family in Fairy Tail)

Little Fullbuster sometimes feels smothered by Gray, they fight about it sometimes

Little Fullbuster full on believes he’s capable of taking care of himself, and he is, to an extent, he’s still just a child

Gray doesn’t know how to get that through his brother’s head

Their fights don’t usually involve yelling, more like a lot of passive-aggressive comments or choices/actions

For example, Little Fullbuster has a habit of holding Gray’s eye contact while asking Natsu to train with him and complimenting him because he knows it’ll irk Gray

Little Fullbuster always ends up feeling bad about his petty choices and Gray usually feels bad about how the conflict was handled

They always make up, sometimes without apologies (I feel like this is a really common sibling thing, my sister and I never apologized to each other after fights), but sometimes one or the other would cave and apologize

They are both really grateful to have each other as brothers (not that they would ever admit it out-loud) and where one brother is, the other usually isn’t far behind

Gray struggles with the fact that his younger brother is stronger than him

It’s not because he’s insecure or anything

It’s just because he’s scared he’ll lose his brother

He trusts his brother is capable

But he’s scared something underhanded could happen

Like if it comes to a fight, Little Fullbuster fights fairly, but his opponent might not have the same morals as fairy tail wizards

Relationship headcanons – Team Natsu

The whole team knows little Fullbuster is more than capable of taking care of himself

Doesn’t stop them from hovering or worrying all the time

Lucy mothers him the most

Totally sees him as the little brother she never had

Erza trains with him without holding back

Natsu gets along with him way better than Gray

Natsu is actually willing to ask little Fullbuster to train with him to improve both of their quirks

Happy likes to think he’s a wiser older brother to little Fullbuster

Invites him out fishing so he can share his “words of wisdom”

To which Lucy usually comments on with a roll of her eyes or a quip about any “words of wisdom” Happy told her in the past

Wendy and Little Fullbuster are close in age and get along really well

Carla and Gray aren't too happy about it, especially with Happy's constant, "he's in love"

Wendy and Little Fullbuster honestly ignore Happy and all their older guildmates who comment things like "won't they make the cutest couple?"

The two train together a lot since they get along so well

Relationship headcanons – Juvia

Juvia is in love with how sweet he is

In turn, little Fullbuster tries his hardest to get Juvia together with Gray

Already sees Juvia as an older sister of sorts

Usually goes to her when he’s upset about something Gray did

They bake together for Gray

Juvia teaches him how to make her Gray dolls and weather dolls

Little Fullbuster starts making Gray dolls and leaving them in the most ominous places to freak his brother out

It’s Little Fullbuster’s favorite thing

Little Fullbuster is always there for Juvia

He knows full well that his brother isn’t oblivious to her feelings

He feels bad about it and really tries to be there for her without getting involved

Because he also knows that Gray is interested in Juvia, he just doesn’t know to what extent

Juvia never asks him to do anything to help her pursue Gray

She doesn’t ask him if Gray’s ever told him anything about her, she respects boundaries

But she does complain about her failed attempts

Which just makes Little Fullbuster kick himself mentally because his brother is just so emotionally constipated it’s so aggravating

But he stays out of it, it’s not his job

Though he would love if Juvia were to officially become his older sister

Relationship headcanons – danger

Little Fullbuster really has no control over it

It’s just that everywhere he goes, something happens

Danger follows him like a bad cold

Little Fullbuster has grown accustomed to something going wrong on jobs that puts his life in danger

He’s used to powerful wizards finding him during combat

This doesn’t worry him, not usually

Little Fullbuster is more than happy, well not happy, he’s more than willing to risk his life for his guild, they practically raised him after all

Gray isn’t as willing

The amount of grey hairs that he’s grown due to constantly worrying lol

Nor is he pleased with his brother’s attitude on the matter

Actually, you know the scene in Harry Potter where Professor McGonagall is like,

“Why is it when something happens, it is always you three?” and Ron’s just like, “Believe me professor, I’ve been asking myself the same question for 6 years”

Yeah, but Makarov and Little Fullbuster

Given this unfortunate circumstance, Little Fullbuster has gotten really good at thinking on his feet

*possible spoilers* Like in the Tower of Heaven, when Simon was ‘aiming’ for Gray, rather than creating an ice copy of himself, Little Fullbuster was there in seconds, physically putting himself in between Simon and Gray and Juvia while simultaneously building ice copies of all three of them before Gray even thinks to do the same

Little Fullbuster is just so smart and quick, his incredibly skilled and it offers Gray some relief (not a lot tho because danger following your sibling everywhere is no walk in the park)

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stillbelievinginfireflies · 1 year

Text

So I have somehow managed to delete this post instead of posting it three times now, because I am very talented. That said - hi there @novafire-is-thinking and thank you so much for the tag, sorry it’s taken me so long to reply! Always good to hear from you - I tried to theme my list along transformers too. :)

Rules: List ten songs you’ve been enjoying and tag ten people.

Two Minutes by The Amazing Devil (yt | spotify)

So funny story, I made a DND character initially based off Brainstorm and somewhere down the line he turned into Ratchet. This is on his playlist and effectively serves as one of his theme songs, and reminds me a lot of everyone’s favourite grumpy medic too. It’s one of very few songs that I’ve found that actually fits him, I think, and I definitely am gonna cut myself off here before I go into a rant analysing this song from the perspective of IDW Ratchet.

Angelica’s Room by War is Over (yt | spotify)

This one’s on here for two reasons. First of all, I’m teaching myself guitar, and this is one of the only songs I’ve managed to learn well enough that I can more or less sing and play it at the same time, which of course means I’ve listened to it about a thousand times. Secondly, it reminds me of Chromedome - it’s about growing up and changing from who you used to be, and my favourite lines in it are ‘When you look down on me/will you promise to/forget who I once was/ and know me for who I’ll be?’ and every time I hear them I think of OG Rewind and Domey in the aftermath of choosing not to forget him.

Adhd by Truslow (yt | spotify)

This one’s on my Scavengers playlist, and the title probably gives away who it reminds me of. What can I say? It’s a cheerful song and it makes me smile, very much so like Misfire himself.

Moscow by Autoheart (yt | spotify)

First off, Autoheart is one of my top bands (both because they have wonderful songs and because their singer is one of relatively few artists who stays reliably within my vocal range.) Moscow is on here specifically because the vibes and energy reminds me of the Lost Light crew and the reasons that I love them. Fair warning - it’s really catchy, and I take no responsibility if it gets stuck in someone’s head.

What Have You Become? by MNQN (yt | spotify)

This song is on two playlists: Soundwave’s, and a TF OC of mine who I am not yet quite self-indulgent enough to make his friend but who I nevertheless think would have been a good friend for him. The album art also matches TFP Soundwave’s colour scheme, but that’s not the point - this one is very atmospheric, Tron Legacy type vibes with a fun little added emphasis on internal mutation into something unrecognisable! :)

Conspiracy of Silence by The Swoons (yt | spotify)

Like the song above, this song is on Soundwave’s playlist and another TF OC’s playlist. (Different OC this time - the previous one was a Decepticon general, but this one is for a Neutral-ish Empurata’d ex-medic who has some... let’s call them issues.) Something about the way the song gets super dramatic and then goes quiet is just a really good vibe, I think.

Teach Me To Fight by YONAKA (yt | spotify)

Obligatory song off my Whirl playlist, hehe. Not only is this song great for blasting through headphones when I wanna feel like a badass or quiet rage, it also fits him well. The whole ‘let’s make this public, let’s take it outside’ always makes me think of him meeting Cyclonus and immediately starting a fight with him in IDW.

All Is Well (Goodbye, Goodbye) by Radical Face (yt | spotify)

This one might be cheating a little, since it’s only on a TF OC playlist and not one for a canon character, but I’m throwing it on anyway because Radical Face has some beautiful storytelling with their music and this is my favourite song of theirs. Also, some lines do remind me a little bit of Rodimus (which is fitting, given that this OC is also from Nyon). in particular: ‘So I collected all our plans and crimes/and set them all alight/ The only thing that held me to this place/ You took with you when you died/ So goodbye, goodbye’.

First Defeat by Noah Gunderson (yt | spotify)

This is partially added because Noah Gunderson is sorely underrated and I love this song, and partially because it makes me think of MiniMegs/MagsMegs in IDW. It’s a very sweet, very sad song that I think very much encapsulates the bittersweet nature of the ship for me - the fact that it’s kinda doomed from the start, but that they both care and pay attention to little things and this isn’t a fight they can win but they sure did fight it anyway - I’m gonna stop myself, before I ramble. I really like this song.

Kiss Me by Rob Vischer (yt | spotify)

Aight this one isn’t transformers, BUT I’m adding it anyway, because I’ve been listening to it daily for weeks now. It’s tied into an RP I’m doing for TLOU, and I feel the second verse in my bones every time I listen.

I am henceforth tagging @lovewithagirl @nevershootamockingbird @babblythings @eldritchcorvidae @eldritchjackalope @thetragicallynerdy @rubixpsyche @shakenbaeky @belasupremacy and @orionhong to also inflict your music taste on the world and share some recs if you wanna!!

#atlas speaks #tag i'm it #no obligation to anyone i tagged obvs #just giving the option if it sounds fun!!!

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zegumi · 3 years

Text

kuroo.t relationship hcs

gn reader | sfw | funny I hope | has

an: i love kuroo. very self-indulgent if i do say so myself.

he makes really bad jokes and laughs at his own jokes and if you don't laugh with him then he just keeps laughing, it's so awkward but funny

definitely talks all night about stupid theories that make no sense and if he sees you dozing off he will turn on the light to make sure you are awake menace

he sucks at video games and all he does the entire time is just scream at the tv

as we know this man is loaded in the time skip, so on anniversaries and birthdays you are spoiled with gifts and showered with affection

very touchy and physically affectionate so his hands are almost always touching you, ofc if you're not comfortable with that he does limit his self

he enjoys going out to eat but this man is a chef in the kitchen... like he rarely cooks but when you let this man alone for a few hours he cooks a meal so good you're astral projecting

love languages: gives physical touch and gift-giving, he likes receiving physical touch and quality time. just very heavy on the physical touch.

he's definitely a smooth talker and does not get flustered when you flirt back he just keeps going at it

he likes co-ordinating outfits - like when you guys match the same colour scheme, not those king and queen shirts although he might've brought it up once

gets jealous easily and is not afraid to show it - no bc he sees a guy looking at you and his tongue is already down your throat

on the topic of kissing, he loves it and can never get enough his personal fave is finger kisses super cute

he's a very passionate lover - kuroo is devoted when it comes to love and goes into everything head first willing to take any risks

anything that lives and breathes has heard from kuroo personally that you two are dating, he just never shuts up about it

anklet with his name on it ;>

kuroo the cuddle king - imagine it's a monday raining outside you've got a shift later so you need to get up and take a shower ofc you don't want to go to work and kuroos sleepy face is too cute to leave so you say 5 more minutes he pulls you in a nuzzles his face in your neck - i will be writing a drabble on this

he's a snorer... a very loud one, he falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow and begins snoring seconds after and no matter how much you push, shove, move, slap the guy he will keep in snoring

head empty just kuroos wet hair down so very hot

testuro is a very patient man when it comes to you - he's very good at dealing with mood swings and when knows exactly how to calm you down. although he probably needs the most calming down

he's protective but in the "wear what you want I can fight" type

when he had a crush on you he was the worst at hiding it, you would walk into the room and kuroo is bright red and cannot produce a single word, he still ends up like this whenever he sees you dressed up cute

has never failed and never will to bring you a little gift before dates, even if he’s paying and planned everything. sometimes if it's like a celebratory event hell get something pricey and other times it'll be a bracelet or a new book you really wanted just something thoughtful

such a bad texter the smart kuroo testuro cannot spell while texting “the wile thign wll be wrten lek ths”

he prefers facetime and is almost always on call with you even maybe when you shouldn't be like he'll be on the toilet or in the shower and his phone will just be on his sink looking up

and and and he never goes on mute never so you hear everything and honestly it's kind of comforting

he puts a lot of effort into the relationship trying his best to make it work and you admire it he's always making sure you're okay, and is always asking if you feel uncomfortable, making sure you're happy and he is never being a burden on you

moving in with him is such a fun experience he knows exactly what he wants and you guys are pretty organized so finding an apartment and stuff is pretty easy

but the decorating making the space more accustomable to the both of you is the most enjoyable part bc you both compliment each other so well there are no arguments

and although you're basically always with him there's so much stuff you learn about him like he's a sucker for romance and eats ketchup with almost everything ew

you guys are so comfortable with each other it's like having a best friend just a little extra benefits ;))

i hope the kuroo simps like this

reblogs are always appreciated <3

#my bff fr #kuroo #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #hq headcannons #haikyuu #haikyū!!#kuroo headcanons #kuroo tetsuro headcanons #hq kuroo #haikyuu fluff

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portfolio-of-dreams · 2 years

Text

always be my eternal lover | kazutora hanemiya + gn reader

summary: going through life with cancer isn't easy, kazutora stays with you as your days in the hospital dwindle.

warnings: angst/hurt, LOTS of crying, use of petname baby, mentions of cancer, blood, vomit, needles, dying

w/c: 7.2k (I'm sorry its long!)

a/n: this is all hurt, I'm sorry. self-indulgent kinda since it's been on my mind since i started chemo recently. the small text is the past! (*spoiler* reader dies)

“This hospital room is a chrysalis in the worst of ways, for here I am melted down to liquid and reformed into the butterfly, conscious and feeling the process at work”

You woke up to the pungent smell of hospital disinfect invading your nostrils. The room was silent besides the drip of the transfusion machine and the monotonous beeping of the heart monitor. The hallways, however, were bustling with noise- the phones ringing constantly at the nurse’s station, the doctors and orderly staff rushing crash carts down the white tiled floors and the occasional call over the intercom for a doctor to go to the OR. You slowly opened your eyes, squinting in an attempt to sharpen the blurred images. You glanced around the muted aquamarine and white colour schemed hospital bedroom. How long have I been here? You lay there pathetically, waiting for the pain to wash away; Staring at the ceiling, illuminated with a white fluorescent hue.

Little particles of dust floated around in the sunlight that crept through the dull gray curtains that hung over your window, you peer to your left and see a man asleep, slouched in the uncomfortable chair, barely covered by the ripped paisley fabric. His black and blonde streaked hair thrown up in a messy bun with a few strands left out framing his face. His small huffs of breath made you smile, god what you would do to have him cuddled up next to you.

“Kazu? Are you still asleep?” he huffs in response and his golden orbs slowly open and zero in on your face. You can tell he’s tired- the dark circles rimmed around his eyes almost look like he’s received two black eyes.

“Do you need something baby? More blankets? Warm socks? Ice chips? Whatever you need, I'll make sure you have it” he could barely choke out the words, sheer desperation in his voice to help you feel any type of comfort right now. All he wanted was to make you smile because wow, did he love to see the corners of your mouth turn upwards, the two dimples exposed in your right cheek and the slight show of your teeth sent his heart aflame. But you haven’t smiled in a while, not since that day…

“y/n? Do you understand your condition? I realize this is a lot to take in and it may take some time to process it. However, your cancer is rare and we aren’t sure about your timeline just yet- not without proper testing. We can start your chemotherapy and radiation within the next week. We have already alerted your parents and if you have any friends or a support system you should try to reach out. Your team is always here for you, you won’t fight this fight alone.”

You barely heard what the doctor was saying at that point. Cancer? You had cancer? Fuck- the world started to spin a little faster, your ears were buzzing, the tears in your eyes overflowed and spilled down your cheeks, and everything began to feel hot. Your surroundings blurred and black dots came in and out of your field of vision and then darkness... You don’t remember where you were or how you got here but you were lying in a hospital bed and your head was throbbing. How could this happen to you? All you wanted was to call Kazutora and have him hold you, but the thought of dumping this on him when he was just starting to get better made your stomach turn with guilt.

Weeks went by and you began to get worse. You barely spoke to Kazutora- not because you didn’t want to, but because you barely had any energy left. Daily tasks became harder and you were tired, god you were so tired. You laid in bed and sent off a quick text to Kazu saying Hey, I'm sorry I haven't been present lately, I'm just so exhausted. come over later? I need to talk to you and sure enough, just a few hours later, he was knocking on the deep red door of your small 1 bedroom/1 bath apartment with a concerned look on his face- his brows furrowed together, his cheeks were slightly red and his eyes half lidded and bloodshot. Was he crying earlier? You escorted him in and sat him next to you on your small black leather couch while you curled up in a plush grey blanket you had thrown over the back.

Kazutora looked at you with a worried expression strewn across his face “What have I done wrong? Please tell me so I can fix it. I've missed you like crazy these past few weeks. Are you going to break up with me? Please y/n… I love you so much. I can't lose you” you quickly grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into a warm embrace while your thumb made soothing circles on the back of his neck “No baby, you’ve done nothing wrong! I'm just so tired all of the time. I didn't mean to make you feel left out or forgotten, I've just been having a really rough time and I've been fighting with myself on how to tell you this because it scares the shit out of me and I can't… I don’t want it to scare you away” Kazu studied your features for any sort of hint as to what it was that made you so exhausted and so scared. What were you about to tell him? Your lip started to tremble and your eyes became glossy, tears threatening to waterfall down your face and the words came out like a desperate plea for help in the form of a whisper “I have mesothelioma- a rare form of cancer… Kazu, I’m so scared” and with that you began to cry and your hiccups wouldn’t stop. All he could do was stare at you with wide eyes and a lump in his own throat. How could this happen? How could this happen to you? What would he do if he lost you? You were everything to him- so patient and kind and showed him warmth- the kind you feel when you're wrapped up in fuzzy socks and sherpa blankets with a hot cup of earl gray tea with lemon and raw honey. You were his safe space and he might lose you? He quickly grabbed you into an embrace as his hands ran soothing strokes through your soft hair.

“Everything will be okay y/n, I will always be here for you. I love you so much baby- we’ll get through this”

You gently shook your head, ending your moment of reminiscing on the past. Your lips were chapped and starting to crack and your mouth was dry, pleading for any sort of moisture. You could barely speak thanks to the chemotherapy and the medications being transfused into your veins and flowing as easily through your blood steam as the cancer itself. Oh, what you would do to just be better! to not be so sick you can barely breath on your own because everything feels so heavy. Your half-opened eyes looked to your ivory plastic bedside table for your small whiteboard and Expo marker, gently reaching over for it as you took a sharp inhale and winced in pain as the movement weighed pressure on the port in your chest. Kazutora quickly jolted up, almost falling out of the chair due to still being half asleep after noticing your facial features suggesting you were in pain. He grabbed the board and marker and handed them to you, desperate to aid you. You shakily took the blue dry erase marker out of his hand while he held the board and almost, just almost, legibly wrote W-A-T-E-R as you took your free hand to tap your throat indicating it was drier than the Sahara.

He gave you a small smile and kissed your forehead with wet lips “Okay n/n, I’ll be right back with a cup of water and some ice. Don’t go anywhere, please, I promise I’ll be back soon” his voice laced with sorrow so heavy it practically stole all the oxygen in the room, worried that if he left for even a minute, he would lose you.

He slipped on the navy hospital slippers the staff had given him a few days ago since he spent most of his time in that chair, never leaving your side. You don’t know why he even bothered to slide them on, they were so worn out the soles were practically a barrier between feet and the floor, offering no support but, you know he put them on so he didn’t look like he was wondering the halls in just the socks adorned with skiing penguins you had got him last Christmas. Your face got hot at the memory- dreaming of going back to that time, when you were still okay enough to walk around in public and had enough energy to go to the festivals...

You dragged your boyfriend through the food stalls and boisterous people, the smell of fried foods and smoke invaded your nostrils. One hand interlaced with his and the other pulling your oxygen tank behind you, having one destination for the night and that's where you were going first- the ferris wheel. It would probably be the last time you'd get to enjoy festivals and the lame carnival rides that came along with them. Kazutora could only smile as you glanced over your shoulder at him and giggled. You knew that he didn't care too much for this scene, far too many people for his liking but when you looked up at him with those puppy dog eyes and the way your lips barely parted when you pouted and pleaded him to take you, how could he say no, especially to you. There was a small line of people in front of the wheel and you eagerly jumped into the back, following the shuffling guests. Every time a fair or festival came around you made it your mission to bring Kazu, ride the ferris wheel and kiss once you made it to the top. He always would tease you about being cheesy, like a real-life scene from that romance movie The Notebook. It was those moments that reminded you just how much you loved him and have for the past three years. However, this years 'top of the wheel' kiss was different, you both silently knew that it would probably be your last and while neither of you said it out loud it could be heard through the moans you both made as you leaned into a searing kiss- desperate to feel your teenage love spark and send electric pulses through the wetness on your lips. Your hand left his thigh and carded through his shoulder length hair (after much arguing earlier, you finally convinced him to leave it down tonight but that didn't stop him from having a hair elastic snug on his wrist for later). His calloused hands gently reached out and cupped your cheeks as he turned his head to deepen the kiss. Your cheeks were suddenly damp and you could taste the saltiness of tears, when did you start crying? Was he crying too? Your sharp inhales made you separate your lips, only to be pulled back so quickly into his neck as you sobbed. The wetness soaking his forest green shirt, god you loved him in green. The way it complimented his skin tone and made the freckles around his nose more apparent. He was so beautiful in the carnival lights and the way the breeze gently blew his hair around- you had never been so in love and when he smiled at you, your heart was on fire. The way he said your name echoed through your bones and filled your veins to the brim.

You didn't notice that you had closed your eyes and were in sweet bliss of memory until you felt cold fingers on the inside of your left wrist. You jolted up, surprised by the sudden contact and your eyes were met by those of your nurse, wearing a navy scrub set, as she mumbled an apology. You watched her as she furrowed her brows and took notes on your vitals. It was when she listened to your lungs that her whole demeanor changed and you could feel your stomach drop when she called for the on-call doctor. It was probably around 6am and your oncologist didn't come in until about 7-7:30am. Honestly, you hadn’t been feeling that great and the small amount of morphine that was dripping wasn't doing anything anymore, in fact it hasn't in a while. You've been in pain for a few hours but you didn't want to call for medication or help because it would have woken up Kazutora and made him worry and that was the last thing you wanted- he's already been through enough.

The doctor entered the room and asked you the same bullshit questions you've always heard "How are you feeling? On a scale of 1-10 what's your pain level at? What have you eaten and/or drank today?" You always were annoyed at these questions because every new doctor or nurse that came your way always asked them and with your condition, well you saw a lot of them.

He put the cold metal of the stethoscope on your chest and listened to your breath sounds with a puzzled look on his face, “The muffled and static sounds are concerning. When was your last treatment and how long have you been in pain trying to inhale?”

You shyly looked at him and said “I think I had a round of treatment about three weeks ago but that should be in my chart for an exact date and the pain, I don’t know? a few hours or so?”

That's when Kazutora walked in with your water and ice chips in two different cups slotted between his fingers so he could open the door. “You’ve been in pain y/n? You didn’t wake me up and tell me? I could’ve gotten help, called for someone, why won’t you let me help...” the expression strewn across his face was filled with so much sadness and you could hear it even louder in his voice.

He placed the two cups on your bedside table and sat down in the same chair he’s been in and placed his elbows on his knees and held his face in his hands. The doctor threw a look of sympathy his way, though he wouldn’t see it, and spoke again-

“We’re going to need to take you back for a rescan and see how quickly we can get your oncologist here to do a review with you. I’ll have the nurses at the desk contact your parents”

That last sentence made Kazutora almost fall out of the chair he was in, eyes already glossed over and a frown etched on his face. Stumbling over his own feet, crouching on his knees beside you, holding you hand in both of his, almost flinching at the icy-ness your skin held “It’s gonna be okay angel, I’ll be here waiting for you when you get back. I love you eternally.”

You felt your eyes go soft at his words, he usually told you he loved you when you had to go to the X-ray room to get a new PET scan, but this time, his words had more love in them then you’ve ever heard. With the help of the nurse, you got out of bed and moved into the wheelchair that was already placed at your bedside, sending a quick thumbs up and a small smile to your boyfriend, who you knew would be letting his emotions run wild as soon as you left the room, the nurse wheeled you out.

The hallways were unusually empty and smelled of lemon cleaner and elderly people. While you didn’t care for the scent, you’ve grown accustomed to it. Your hands grasped at the edge of your green cotton hospital gown and bunched it up inside your palms. You knew you were dying, it was only a matter of time, but why did it have to be so soon? There’s so much you haven’t gotten to do yet in life, you were only 24! You’ve barely driven a car, you’ve never had a job, hell, you would probably still be a virgin if you hadn’t found Kazutora- a boy who was so gentle and patient with you. You had dreams to travel the world, go backpacking in Europe, learn to salsa in Spain, get drunk in Germany- all things you wanted to do with him. You could feel the tears start overflowing when you thought too hard about all these things you’ll never get to do but the thought of never seeing Kazu again is what sent you over the edge, fat tears pooling in your lashes and you started to hiccup, the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding hitched in your throat, until you felt like you couldn't breathe, and you were panicking. Struggling to swallow down a still beating heart, your vision became blurry and you gasped as you tried to control your body from shaking so hard but before you knew it, the all too familiar view of black came into sight as you started to fall out of the wheelchair unconscious…

You weren’t sure how much time had passed but when you woke up you were back in your room with a new medication bag being clipped up and replacing the old unit. The nurse inserted a syringe of saline into your IV catheter to flush the remaining fluid in the cannula before hooking up the new medicine to the hub in your hand. The cold rush of the saline pulsing through your veins made you shiver; you’ve never liked the flush because it was always so cold and instantaneous. You sat up in your bed a little and immediately grabbed your head with your free hand and winced at the throbbing feeling you had on your right temple. Your vision, still a little foggy, was able to make out three figures in the hallways through the open blinds on the window. They were talking and you assume it was pretty serious based on their body language. Squinting at the sight trying to decode who it was until you felt a dip in the bed at your feet, looking over at the boy who held your heart, he sighed heavily letting his head drop as a signal tear rolled down his cheek. He looked at you with apathetic bloodshot eyes and puffy cheeks, he paused for a moment to blow his nose on a tissue he kept in his pants pocket and then discarded it before curling up next to you and burying his face into the crook of your neck. In a raspy voice, muffled by your skin, he spoke “I'm sorry baby, I'm so sorry. Your doctor guy is outside speaking to your parents. I didn't want to listen… I couldn’t...” he choked on his words and you moved your hand to run your fingers through his messy hair.

“I know Kazu, it’s okay. You know I love you right? and I always will”

You felt defeated, there were no words in the English language that could, or would, take away the hurt he was feeling at the thought of you dying. So, you let him cuddle into your side trying your best to soothe his woes about the situation. The door creaked open and you saw your parents walk in, your mothers face flushed and her glasses fogged over, your father couldn’t even look at you as his eyes turned downwards and bit his lip so hard you could see the red straining to spill through the spaces in his teeth. You turned to face your doctor, his dark eyebrows were lowered and knitted closely framing his hazel eyes, his pink lips were pressed tightly before he parted them to speak “After your rescan, we’ve noticed the original tumors have metastasized and the cancerous cells have flowed into your heart, creating tumors. I’m very sorry. We will do everything we can to make you comfortable”

You felt your stomach clench and attempt to double over as if you were greeted by a fist in your gut, your vision blurred as sorrow pooled at your waterline. This was it, huh? You reached over Kazu's snuggled body to grab literally anything- a sick noise caught in your throat, choking and squeezing your eyes shut, a rush of hot fluids spilled over your lips and splashed into the plastic pan as a stench filled the cool air. Your face damp and snot running down to your chin you opened your eyes- blood. Traces of deep red littered the other fluids in the bin and you sighed, it really was coming close to the end.

“Waiting is painful. Forgetting is painful. But not knowing which to do is the worst kind of suffering”

Your parents were at your bedside opposite of Kazutora, kneeling down and holding your hand with each one of their own. Basking in the comfortable silence, you stared at their faces wanting to remember all their features, ingraining them like a mental photograph. Your mothers' viridescent eyes, framed behind her dark rimmed oval glasses. The freckles that littered her cheeks from tending to her flower garden in the sun too long, her just-above shoulder length brunette hair that was thinning out at the ends, her rounded shoulders that had small moles and dark spots that offered you endless comfort and a welcoming space to cry your eyes out, and her warm expression that always made you feel safe. Your fathers deep blue eyes that always seemed so serious but crinkled in the corners when he laughed, his curved and slightly bent to the left nose, the same one that adorned your own face, and his plump cheeks that were sunburnt from time to time. His larger hands enveloped your mothers as well as your own, but they were tender, afraid that either of you were fragile, made of glass, and could break at the slightest amount of pressure.

Their dejected expressions hung low and made your chest tremble, until your mother spoke “Why don't we get your favourite dessert? That always lightens the mood a tad. Your father and I will be right back. Kazutora, stay by y/n’s side a while longer, please?” Kazu would of course, not decline that offer, he was always going to stay beside you.

After your parents left the room, Kazutora feathered light kisses on your neck and up your jawline before pausing at your lips “Let’s get married” Was he serious? Had he been planning to ask you that? How do you even write vows? A thousand questions ran through your head but time stopped the minute he crashed his mouth onto yours. It wasn’t harsh or greedy; His lips brushed yours, softly, delicately, like butterfly wings, just long enough that he could inhale your breath and feel the warmth of your skin. He molded perfectly to you in every way, as if he was cut from the soul. The gentleness the kiss held made you dizzy and your heart did backflips. His scent of cedarwood and almond infiltrated your senses as his touch ricocheted through the hollows of your bones and spread heat through your veins. There was no one else you wanted to spend the last of your days with than him, and your parents.

Slowly pulling away and feeling the chill of the air conditioning fan over your hot skin, you looked at him and wow- the galaxies you could see in just his eyes, could he see them too? He was your universe, holding the sun, moon, and every star imaginable in his fingertips. Cupping his face in your hands, you pecked his lips once more and nodded your head “Yes” you whispered to only him.

You could see his happiness begin to bubble over and his heart beat so profusely it practically leapt out his chest. His eyes glossed over because he could finally tell you that you were his everything and nothing else in the world mattered to him except you. His lips began to travel around your face as his fingers explored every crevice of your figure but skipped over the IV in your hand, your elbow, and the port in your chest. You could feel your skin prickle, his touch was so light and bewildering- almost non-existent. He had always been soft with you, since day one, and seemed to only become softer with each passing day as if that were possible. You knew you could never love anyone else like you loved Kazutora and you knew he felt the same but you also knew that meant it would be difficult for him to move on. You felt a twinge of guilt as you thought about it- on one hand you wanted to be the only girl he’d ever love this deeply, this feverishly. But the humbler side of you wanted him to know love again after you. You wanted him to find happiness but always remember you.

He looked at you with lovesick eyes and said “don't you worry about a thing baby, I’ll take care of everything for us. I promise, y/n”

You couldn't help but be captivated by the determination in his voice to set this up, knowing he would enlist the help of Matsuno Chifuyu and Mitsuya Takashi, his two closest friends, and probably the only others who knew about how bad your condition was. You weren’t sure what he had in mind but you trusted him with your whole being. It was a cute idea even if it couldn’t be for real.

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Life washes over those who expect it the least. It seeps in and out of the expanse of space and time and steals the innocence right within your grasp. Playing with time is for children, when you are innocent and vulnerable. Then life comes crashing in and destroys moments in its wake. With water-soaked clothes and tear-streaked cheeks, you rue the fact that life has no mercy. Life is not fair, not in the least. You spent all night curled up in the shower with Kazutora at your side as you vomited up nothing and everything all at once. Heaving with the full expanse of your chest, again and again, you were out of breath and tired, so damn tired. Tired of having to live the last of your life being like this and you couldn't do anything. You would never wish this kind of hell on anyone, that's what it was- hell on Earth.

Your head was knocked to the side, resting on the shower wall. Snot stuck to your cheeks and vomit and drool slipped over your lips, as if in slow motion. You turned and looked at Kazu- he was visibly exhausted. Dark ebony stained half circles framed his dropping eyes, his cheeks hollowed in and his lips were dry and cracked. His hair was a mess, slung up in a messy bun- he hadn’t been home in days and that was probably the last time he got a night's rest. You could see the way sleep mocked him, taunted him through the heaviness of his limbs, and in the arms that were holding you up.

You looked at him with wet features, “Kazu can you help me in the wheelchair and put me in front of the window? I want to see the sky”

He simply nodded as he turned the shower off, changed you into a new robe and sat you in the chair. He was still so strong and comforting you'd wish he could just cradle your fragile body all night. He called the nurse for a warm blanket which was rushed to you in what felt like seconds, and covered you in it as he pushed you in front of the window and pulled his chair over to be beside you, taking your hand in his as the two of you watched the night roll in.

The night sky. A vast and unknown universe beyond the human eye, a different world entirely from the one you know. Looking up through your window, the black silk is welcomed by countless stars, constellations, and the moon, just floating in space, and offering you comfort and peace. Clouds began to melancholically float across the sky, dimming the already faint light of the stars. Outside darkens another two dismal shades and a dull roar reverberates through the expanse, echoing on your window pane. A steady drizzle of rain begins to descend from somber clouds; crystal tears landing silently on the pavement below creating opaque puddles that fill the cracks and crevices. Incandescent gold hues illuminate the charcoal sky as the winds pick up loose leaves in a whirlwind.

The hospital room feels smaller than usual, as the drizzles from the outside press against the windows, aching to come in. Tap. Tap. Tap. A thousand taps at once. The language of water cascades through your ears like a somber chorus in a song. You allow the melody to consume your mind and your body to succumb to the exhaustion that's whistling in the tune of the shower outside.

When you awoke, you were tucked in bed with new blankets and soft socks covering your feet. Kazutora was nowhere in sight, slightly panicking, you rang for the nurse who immediately took your vitals at the sight of your destressed face. He sauntered in not too long after with a paper coffee cup in his right hand and a bagel in the other. Seeing his face, that he was still here with you, lulled your anxieties. Unbeknownst to him, you had another treatment today and were desperate to have him at your side. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence after the nurse left. Kazutora sipped his coffee slowly, allowing the warm liquid to steal away the chills that seemed to consume him, as you lazily looked through a manga he had brought you a few weeks ago. After about an hour, your oncologist entered the room with a cheery grin plastered on his face.

“Are you ready y/n? We’re going to take some quick vitals and then we'll take you down” he spoke while removing his raspberry hued stethoscope that hung around his neck and flopped over his shoulders.

Kazutora quizzically looked at you, “What? You have a treatment today and didn’t tell me?” You could tell in his voice that he wasn’t physically or emotionally prepared for the turmoil that came with chemotherapy treatments. They drained you to your very core and he knew they were killing you just as much as the cancer itself. You dropped your head and peered at him through apologetic eyes and mouthed an ‘I’m sorry’.

“I know you’re tired Kaz, you don't have to stay. I can always call my mom..” you trailed off until you were interrupted by him gripping your wrist with pain filled eyes staring at you. You knew what he was silently telling you, I’d never leave your side, not even for a second.

You slowly nodded your head towards your doctor as Kazutora helped you into your wheelchair. You were wheeled down the hall, through the doors that said authorized personnel only and brought into a bleak room- no windows, only one door and the lights were dimmed to almost nothing, the only sounds were the exhales of the other patients and the daunting tones of the medical equipment. You hated this- the way it made you feel, the annoying task of being bilegerantly poked and prodded by the medical assistants who could never hook up your port quite right, the blank stares that made your stomach queasy and the fact that you had to sit here with nothing to do except have the medicine course through your body for three hours. It was daunting, and you wanted it to be over the minute you entered that vexing room. You sat in the recliner chair and watched as the staff made Kaz dress up in the isolation gear- the aqua blue booties that covered his feet, the disposable pastel yellow gown and level three face mask, one of the highest levels of protection against airborne particles since everyone in this room was immunocompromised. You looked around at the other patients as a nurse in plum colored scrubs hooked you up to a machine, some were asleep, dozed off in perfect dreams away from this harsh reality. Others watched whatever was on the small TV plastered to the wall, but the one thing you noticed was everyone was alone. You felt the core of your stomach turn, how could the families or friends allow them to do this alone? The sheer thought of not having Kazutora with you made the familiar hot liquid regurgitate in your throat and threaten to spill out over the nurse in front of you. You held your breath spastically searching for a vomit catcher but to no avail, you spilled your guts on the floor to your right, thankfully, not on the poor lady whose eyes became wide like a deer in headlights, once she realized what was happening. Your boyfriend frantically rushed to your side as you continued to make a mess of the sour-smelling acids from your stomach.

You wiped your mouth on your arm as you tried to slow your breathing, Kaz replacing the space on your left with the nurse who left to call the janitorial member.

“Deep breaths baby, inhale… hold… and exhale. I’ve got you, I’m right here” he assured you as he squeezed your hand in pulsating motions.

The janitor quickly made his entrance, dressed in full personal protection equipment, and mopped up the area around you with false citrus smelling disinfectant, like the kind you get at off-brand markets. You dipped your head apologetically and mumbled a thousand “I’m sorry”s to the man who only replied with a soft smile and small nod of his head.

The hours went by unbearably slow and you felt worse than you had before. They were right though, the chemo and the radiation were the silent killers, disrupting your body and as detrimental as the illness itself.

When the treatment was finally finished all you wanted to do was sleep. The nurses placed you back in the chair as Kazutora removed the disposable gear and discarded them into the large bin by the door. Once back in your room you were greeted by the familiar scent of fresh toasted buns and fruit jam, just the smell of it made you sick your stomach but the thought was appreciated. You saw your parents standing with a fluffy teddy bear held in your mothers' hands as she offered it to you.

“I’m sorry we couldn't get here sooner but we are thankful for Kazutora staying by your side, -she turned to Kazu- We brought you some food in case you were hungry.” she smiled softly at him and handed him a brown paper bag. He graciously took it and told her thank you.

Your father placed some books and journals on the table next to you since he knew you’d be bedridden for a while. “Just a few things to keep you occupied” he stated with tired eyes. Your parents have been working overtime just to stay afloat with all the hospital bills that keep managing to pile up. You were forever grateful to them and everything they’ve done to give you the life you’ve had. You couldn’t bear the thought of them, being so lonely, after you passed, hoping they could still be happy and live life until old age.

“We can’t stay too long but we can play a round of cards if you're up for it y/n” your mom smiled at you. Now the only question was which game? Uno (you kept the cards in the drawer of the small table just in case), go fish, crazy 8s? You took a vote and Uno ultimately won, only because Kaz was desperate to finally try to beat you. Laughter filled the small space and you looked around at the people you loved so dearly, smiling and laughing. You missed days like this- when you could act like a normal family and pretend nothing was wrong. After the game your parents left with quick kisses to our forehead, you knew they had early work in the morning but you were happy they were able to visit.

You curled up in bed as Kaz pressed a warm kiss to your cheek and said “I’m going to go home tonight baby to try to sleep a little. You get some good sleep too, okay? I love you so much and I’ll see you in the morning.” As soon as he clicked the door close, you succumbed to the sleep your body so desperately needed.

You awoke to the small humming of your boyfriend as he flipped through a magazine, a bridal magazine? Once he noticed your slumbering form start to move, he was instantly at your side placing kisses on your temple and cheek. “Good morning sleepyhead” he playfully cooed. You smiled at him as he opened a spread of the magazine towards you pointing at a floor length ivory gown, adorned with long lace applique sleeves, vintage buttons down the back and a small rhinestone belt across the waist. It was simple but so beautiful. You looked at Kazutora with adoring eyes and your mouth slightly agape. You were in awe that he found that dress and immediately thought you'd like it, it was perfect and he knew it with a small smirk growing.

“I think I can get Mitsuya to make something similar, if you want” Of course he knew the answer was yes but asked anyway. Enthusiastically, you nodded your head with a large smile. But you knew that he shouldn’t ask because you probably wouldn't be here by the time the dress was completed. You pushed that thought aside as he nuzzled into your side reminding you how much he loved you and cherished you.

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A few non-eventful days have passed, life in this boring room droned on as your health continued to decline. Easy tasks like going to the bathroom, brushing your teeth, or even just sitting up cause your body to feel tormented. Your parents visited less often, mostly due to work piling up, and Kazutora brought over blankets and pillows from his place and started showering here. Things were looking bleak as your physical, as well as mental, state took a turn for the worst. The nurses and doctors checked in on you in 6-hour increments which meant they were not sure how much time you had left. The daisies your mother dropped off that were placed in a disposable cup on your window sill began to wilt- life was so fragile…

On the sixth somber day in a row, you had more machines hooked up to you and around the clock care. Your body barely existed, you couldn’t eat, could barely sleep, and it showed. Your cheeks were hollowed in, your collarbones were uncomfortably showing, and bruises littered your skin. It hurt too much to do anything besides pathetically lay there and wait, wait for the afterlife to come and whisk your consciousness away. Kazutora told you he finished his vows and while he knew you couldn’t write yours or even speak them, he wanted to share them with you, pour his heart out to you, one last time as he cuddled into your side and recited only to you the words, he so desperately hoped you’d remember:

“Y/n, I wrote these words for you. I really hope they stay with you forever.”- he took out a crumpled piece of notebook paper from his jacket pocket and began to read- “Y/N, you are my forever love. My eternal love. You are in every breath I take; your scent invades my lungs and gives me reason to keep inhaling. Our love has been a temporary madness, erupting like volcanoes and then subsiding. Love itself is what’s left after ‘being in love’ has kindled away, being both art and an unfortunate circumstance of actions. People who truly love, like we have and forever will, have roots intertwined, under the surface, and when the blossoms have all fallen and the leaves have been kissed off the branches by the cool winter wind, they find there's only tree under the beauty of love. I have had the best moments with you and I won't trade them away or take them for granted. It has been a pleasure to love you, and to live and exist in the same time space as you, my love. I have become a better man by getting to love you and be yours. I love you y/n, eternally.”

You could feel the tears beginning to form in your eyes as your breath began to hitch in your throat. You started coughing and then couldn’t breathe. Your eyes went wide and your face blue as nurses rushed to your side to try to help you. Feeling a rush of chill as Kazutora fell to the ground, out of the bed he was once snuggled in next to you. Once that first tear broke free, the rest followed in an unbroken stream. He bent forward where he sat on the floor and pressed his palms to the cold tiles, and began to cry with the force of a person vomiting on all fours. It was over for him, you were lying there, dying, and he couldn't do anything to save you. His world was spinning upside-down and he was choking on the breaths he couldn't release.

You could feel the exhaustion taking over and it got harder to take breaths and the world around you slowed to almost a complete stop. Your limbs became heavy and it felt as though every organ in your body hit a red light. You could barely move as you struggled to keep the rise and fall of your chest as you moved your hand toward Kazutora’s. Mustering up all the muscles you could to offer him a half smile you whispered “You gave me forever within numbered days, and I’m grateful”

He glanced at you through half-lidded glossy eyes- dammit would you miss those golden orbs staring at you so lovingly- “I will always love you y/n, you are my eternal love. One that will always be with me and I know you’ll continue to care for me as you live among the stars. I promise to find you again in our next life and love you fiercer than I have in this one.”

“Promise?” you could barely get out the words as your movements began to stop, but you felt the warm breath of your man hover over you.

“I promise” as he pressed a longing kiss as your heart monitor flat lined, the final sensation that coursed through you was his lips on yours, delicately placed with so much love radiating through them.

#portfolio of dreams #kazutora hanemiya #kazutora x reader #hurt #angst #triggering themes #v sad

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laufire · 2 years

Text

end of year giffing meme

I saw tagged by @habibialkaysani (ty!)

find your favourite gifset of each month out of your own works this year and link them, so your followers can see your awesome work. tag some people to do the same and appreciate their own work!

I predict I’m going to cheat in more than one month of these and pic more than one. Who’s gonna stop me lmao.

January: ooooh, January was a good month (I need to return to my regular Black Sails giffin this year asdfaf). The very apt transition of a Silverflint scene with Thomas’ “everybody needs a partner quote” lol. Max being smug about her seduction techniques xD; Bela revealing herself as a conwoman; Dean and Bela’s first proper meeting, when he breaks into her house (their scenes this episode fucked so hard *-*); Silverflint ~courting each other with their cunning schemes in 2x02 xD; and Flint putting on The Coat in the candlelight.

February: February was also a good month. You have Bela stealing money from the Winchesters; Eleanor pointing out the hold Miranda has over Flint; Dean’s failure to read Bela; Deanbela engaging in Hot Batcat Shit; Miranda seducing Flint 1 + 2; and Bela and the Winchesters inconveniencing each other (also called hostile flirting, by me).

March: honestly all of the sets from this subplot/scene(s) are great and hilarious (and took me well over a month because Bela has looooots of scenes in 3x06 lol), but the one where Bela makes Dean look like a cuckhold? Classic.

April: this one with characters I see myself in; Sam and Ruby engaging in gun play; this hilarious Jack Rackham-Castiel parallel (I’M NOT SORRY); Bela’s outfits in 3x06 because she looks gorgeous and looks like leading girl material; and my “Castiel saved Bela per Sam’s request in 3x06″ self-indulgent set :D

May: I love all the sets I made for SPN Women’s Week, but especially the one combining my faves + Greek mythological figures; this one with my top ten where I got to try a new effect in giffing since... forever ago, with transitioning images; and this other one of my faves, because. Also, all of the gifs I made for Reign’s challenge, Because.

June: THEE (sexy) Inesper scene (posted on my birthday, nice gift from me to me. Also, man, colouring this show is a paaaaain lol); this set of Luisa D’Oliveira’s blink-and-you-miss-it cameo in Superngirl (a show I don’t watch, but she looked pretty and wore a lilac leather jacket AND was hancuffed in one scene? C’mon); this Rizzy edit I made for @equusgirl‘s bday, ‘cause I miss my bbys; and this scene from Watchmen ‘cause I think Cal’s hilarious.

July: the final set I made for SPN POC Week, mixing my fave characters with Greek mythological figures (again, I love all the gifsets I made for that event but that one is so *-*); this parallel set between a scene from Angel and one from Scandal with a ~pathos I find really moving; and the one I made from the scene in Supernatural’s season 3 episode 10 where Sam dreams he eats Bela’s pussy. Very feminist of him <3

August: this angsty series finale Silver-centric/Silvermadi-Silverflint set; THEE (emotional) Inesper scene; and this Castiel/godstiel set with a quote from 1994′s Frankenstein film (NOT from the original book!! I’m petty about this but people keep misatributing it lol).

September: okay I can reduce this month to one! Celebratory Castiel gifset on the anniversary of his introduction to the show xD (warning for flashing gifs)

October: this Silverflint series finale set; this wonderful scene where Dorian tells off Stefan in TVD (being meaning to edit that for YEARS), and this Regina-Cora set I made for @lvcilla‘s bday.

November: nooooooo, not the Megstiel Fest month :(((. LOL. I refuse to choose between the one with Megstiel’s kiss + Like Real People Do, this other one with Halsey’s honey, and (okay, fine, this might be my most favouritest) the criminally unnapreciated Megstiel + Batman Returns Batcat parallels set :DDD

December: can’t choose between this endverse!Castiel gifset with “Achilles Come Down” or this Dadstiel gifset <333

Also, my favourite gifset of THIS month will be coming on Saturday, as an advance xDD

tagging (and you can pic graphics too, not just gifs if that’s not what you do): @angelfishofthelord @chiara-mastroianni @elloras @findsilver @idontwikeit @juliareed @lukearnold @ladyculebras @nomattertheoceans and whoever else feels up for it

#i made soooo many more gifs at the beginning of the year lol #now it's more mixed #tag game #talking to the void #me me me

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chickwiththepurpleguitar · 3 years

Note

Sending you more prompts as promised because I want alllll the words from you. :)

Luke/Bobby, eating super spicy food, idiots in love (as always lol)

this is pure sappy chaos but i hope you like it!! Tagging @where-you-go too cause you said you liked my sappy stuff :) and @julies-butterflies cause i stole some Reggie characterization of hers that will appear in chapter three of our collab (so look out for that tomorrow *wiggles eyebrows*)

read on ao3 here!

It starts, as all stupid things do, with a dare.

Because here’s the thing, and sometimes he’s able to forget because of all the crazy musical talent going on—Bobby’s friends are idiots .

Even Alex, arguably the most competent of the four of them, gets caught up in Luke and Reggie’s schemes and forgets where he put his common sense sometimes. Bobby can’t count the number of times he’s had to bail one or more of them out of some troubled spot or another—and in just the six months he’s known them!

And not to say Bobby’s any kind of genius himself. He had to redo the first grade cause he’s shit at math and worse at reading. He used to take the fall for all kinds of stupid stuff his brother did growing up, just because he didn’t realize it’d get him in trouble until it was too late. He’s gotten caught up in his own number of Luke and Reggie schemes, though admittedly that’s mostly because he is a slave to the puppy dog eyes.

But Bobby’s from New York. He’s eaten foods from every country in the world a thousand times over. Not even he is stupid enough to indulge in his friends’ spice-eating contest.

“Come on, Bobby!” Reggie calls from his place across from Luke, on the floor in front of the coffee table. “It’s no fun if it’s just the two of us, and Alex already said no.”

“Because I have a single inch of self-preservation,” Alex pipes up from the loft, where he’s sitting with his legs stuck through the railing, a can of 7-Up in his hand.

“This was your idea,” Bobby points out.

Alex shrugs, smirking, and takes a sip of his soda. “Better them than me, man.”

Bobby rolls his eyes—

“ Bobbyyyyyyy… ”

—and then freezes, eyes purposefully locked on Alex’s dangling feet. Because the whine is one thing—the whine cuts straight to his heart and makes his knees go weak, but at least he can strike up a conversation, or plug his ears and shout la la la until he manages to ignore it—but the eyes are quite another.

Bobby’s whipped, okay? If he looks Luke Patterson in the eye right now, he’s going to cave, he just knows it.

“ Bobby ,” Luke whines some more. “Alex dared all of us, you can’t just leave Reg and me hanging!”

“You guys are idiots,” Bobby says, still refusing to look over at him. “Alex dared us, but you said yes because you’re idiots.”

“Yeah, but you love me,” Luke says, all smooth and casual, like it doesn’t cost him anything, like it’s easy.

Bobby snaps his gaze over, face flushing hot. Sure enough, Luke’s grinning at him, wide-eyed and innocent, like an eager puppy waiting for his treat. A stupid, dumb, beautiful, brilliant puppy with incredible biceps and an intoxicating kiss to match. Bobby does love him, that’s the dumbest thing about it. He could never say it, though, not out loud, not in front of people, not with the totally unashamed ease that Luke does.

But he does love him, which is why—or so he tells himself, and not because he’s lost complete and total custody of his own brain cells—five minutes later, he ends up cross-legged on the floor between Luke and Reggie, a buffet spread out across the coffee table in front of them.

They’ve got everything, from green curry and fiery pad thai to straight hot sauce in tiny glass bottles. The idea is for them each to take turns trying one dish at a time and then move down the line until one of them cracks. Alex is mostly there to watch, laugh, and call for medical support if any of them ends up burning their tongues off.

Reggie bows out first, because—despite his uncanny ability to shotgun just about anything without so much as making a face—he’s got totally skewed taste buds, so his idea of “spicy” is carbonated water and mint toothpaste. Therefore, three ounces of mild hot sauce send him running for the house for milk and bread (because Alex read somewhere that those work better than water in these situations), his tongue hanging out of his mouth, while Bobby rolls his eyes and Luke and Alex laugh at him.

But then that just leaves Luke and Bobby, who are both competitive as all hell .

Bobby has a strong feeling he’s going to regret this. He’s going to regret this so much.

No one actually wins the spice contest. Bobby almost does when the kimchi turns Luke the color of a ripe tomato, but he just sets his jaw and pants, “M’fine. One more.”

The wasabi gets them both. They have to wrestle each other for the half-gallon of milk Reggie brings out. Alex almost has to call 9-1-1.

Finally, the boys head home, leaving Luke and Bobby alone, lying on their backs on the studio floor with milk mustaches and sweat stains on their shirts.

“You’re an idiot ,” Bobby gasps, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Yeah, I’ll give you that.” Luke scoots closer, his arm just pressing against Bobby’s. He’s way too hot for that, but Bobby doesn’t have it in him to pull away. “But you love me, so what does that make you?”

Bobby sighs and opens his eyes, turning his head to look at Luke, close and flushed and beautiful. “Guess that makes me an idiot, too.”

Taglist: @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @apples-bees @reggiescrookedteeth @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @shrimp-colours @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @pattersonsflannel @julieandthequeers @joyandthephantoms @it-tastes-like-lizard @jatpfs

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #fanfiction #jatp fanfiction #my fics #prompt fills #500 followers aaah!!#luke patterson #bobby wilson #alex mercer #reggie peters #lukebobby #lobby

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infinitevariety · 3 years

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Fic Writer Tag

Thank you @teslatherat for the tag <3

How many works do you have on AO3?

Total-total, across both pseuds, is 79.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

260,826

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Erm, three I guess. Good Omens is my main fandom. I wrote one crossover with Donna Noble from Doctor Who. And I used to write Harry Potter fic, but drifted away from that, and then JK Terf happened so I’m not about to drift back.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I’m only gonna talk about my Good Omens fics, because that’s what we’re all here for.

Angel Wiggles™

Crowley wants to make Aziraphale happy enough to wiggle.

Taking Some Pictures or Something

On a road trip to the South Downs Crowley gives Aziraphale his phone to take photos of the views. However, Aziraphale doesn't know how the phone works and spends all day accidentally posting to Crowley's Instagram story.

Like Any Rose It’s Not Itself

A single white rose grows from one of Crowley’s plants. Which is weird, because none of his plants are rose bushes.

Find It in the Dictionary Under ‘L’

Demons can’t feel love, but Aziraphale can’t help noticing how much Crowley’s suddenly flinging the word around.

(Probably Something That Shouldn’t Be) Said Out Loud

Crowley hasn’t been sleeping well since the world didn’t end, but when he falls asleep on the bookshop sofa he’s not the only one who has to deal with his nightmare.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

To comments on my Good Omens fics, yes. Because it’s the fandom I’m active in, and I want commenters to know I see and appreciate them! <3

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Erm. I don’t really do angst. The ineffables are my happy place, and I pretty much only write fluffy shit (sorry not sorry). About the angsiest I get is bickering, and even then it doesn’t end on a bad note.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I wrote a short Good Omens crossover with Donna Noble from Doctor Who. It’s called Come and Meet Us. It’s not crazy at all I don’t think?

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not hate. I’ve had a couple of rude or obnoxious comments, but I just delete them because they are not worth my energy.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Not for the ineffables I don’t. I’ll read it as part of a larger story or if it’s an interesting concept, but the ineffables I write are asexuals. I rarely even have them kiss, tbh. (Though my best friend and beta is always pushing for a lip smack!)

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I hope not?

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

A couple of times, way back in the day on an old account. It was a lot of fun.

What’s your all time favourite ship?

The ineffables. They just… have that ying/yang dynamic while also being soft as fuck, and it’s just so wonderful to me.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Hmm. Probably ‘Aziraphale is Oscar Wilde’. I get really tired of (at this point) even seeing Oscar Wilde’s name in fics. Aziraphale having slept with/been in a relationship with/been friends with him. At some point I wanted to do something different, so I played with the idea that Aziraphale was Oscar Wilde, writing under a pseudonym. But I’m not likely ever gonna follow through and actually write it.

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue. At least, I tend to write a lot of dialogue. Where are the characters and what are they doing? Who knows! But they talk a lot.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Description. I dislike superfluous descriptions when I’m reading, and I’m exactly the same when I write. Possibly to the extent that I don’t write enough. Look, they’re in a kitchen—imagine whatever counter top and colour scheme you want, it has zero bearing on the story.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I don’t often do it, because I’ve never really had the need. Especially with Good Omens, where in the show, even when they would’ve been speaking another language, they’re speaking English for the sake of the audience.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter. We’ve been here, it’s tainted by that terf-bag now.

What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

My favourite, because it was entirely self-indulgent and fun and needed hours of “research” and note-taking, is You Know the Answer (So Scream It Out Loud).

Tagging? Ugh. I hate this popularity contest. I’ll tag folk I’d be interested in reading the answers of, if they wanna do it and haven’t already… @hope-inthedark @morosexual-aziraphale @cheeriosandwine

#good omens #ineffable husbands #i wrote this #ao3 #fic writer tag

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lordterronus · 4 years

Text

Creatorverse Fanfic Chapter One

Creatorverse – Self Indulgent Stories

Chapter One – Nobody Left Behind

“Hahahaha!” The flying figure hovered around me, laughing maniacally. I raised my sword in their direction but they hardly seemed impressed. They pretty much never were.

After all, Writer’s Block was a hard one to please.

“You’re really doing it, aren’t you?!” Writer’s Block – or ‘Wib’ as I liked to call them – said. “You know this is going to suck, right? It’s a bunch of Mary Sue level bullcrap. You don’t even have a clear setting!” They gestured their arms outwards at the environment before me, a series of colourful bubbled worlds in a technicolour sky. I was standing on something that certainly felt a lot like glass, but I couldn’t be sure. I was still getting used to a new set of legs, after all.

“Shut it!” I leapt upwards, managing to push myself far enough to make a slash with the shortsword I clutched tightly in my hand. Wib looked at me shocked, the one eye peering out from their hair widening in shock before they quickly dived down to avoid my strike. I readjusted quickly, managing to spin my amorphous form so that my feet collided with one of the bubbles. There was a loud sound like crashing glass as I pushed myself off, yet again flying at Wib with all my strength.

“Whatever you’re on about, it doesn’t matter! I’ll figure it out!” I yelled, yet again thwarted in my assault by a sudden dodge from my opponent. For a moment, my sword became stuck in the glassy floor. I struggled to pull it out, but Wib took advantage of my distraction to deliver a flying kick. I managed to protect my body by blocking with my cane, one of two fixed objects in my form. I was still sent flying back.

“So glad I didn’t draw myself with bones.” I groaned. “How do skeletons handle this crap?” I held out one of my hands and a shining circle appeared before me. A glowing yellow shape with the letter C emblazoned within. At the borders of the circle were small black lines laid out like a compass.

“Bones…” I whispered as Wib came in for another attack. The Create Button as I called it was a tool that manifested with me when I found myself in this place. I hadn’t been here long before this strange opponent appeared before me. They seemed nice at first, but they had a strange insistence on not letting me experiment with my newfound powers.

Where was I? Ah, the button!

I had gathered that, for me at least, it worked well to use words to prompt it into producing whatever I wanted. Somehow, I could tell that there was more to it, though. I had no idea why, but I had the faint memory of others with this sort of power. I had no idea where it came from though.

I had no idea about most of my memories. But if I let myself get hung up on the past, I’d never get anything done.

Speaking of which…

“Create!” I yelled, and a barrier of bones appeared before me, hurrying outwards towards Wib. They were knocked back, and I rose to my feet. I twirled my cane dramatically. If I had a face with a mouth, I would have been wearing a smirk for sure. As it was, I simply had the same white question mark on my head and chest as usual.

“Argh!” Wib cried out in pain. I almost felt bad for them. As much as we were trying to kill each other, they weren’t all bad before. They were also the only companion I could remember.

“Cheap knock offs. Of course.” They said bitterly. “I’m not sure what I expected. They’re the only strings to your bow, after all.” They rose and seemed to stretch their legs.

“You’re right. I really should try for more originality.” I manifested my Create Button again, this time on the ground. I slammed my cane against the button and yelled.

“Kuryo!” I called for one of my creations. One of my first, and an old favourite of mine. A misty demonic form clawed its way from a portal of blackness. It glared with fierce and bright yellow eyes and thrust out a stretching clawed hand towards my opponent. They managed to block it and redirect it with a kick.

“Please, I can take all your childhood toys.” They wore a lazy grin on their face that might have been attractive if they weren’t trying to kill me. “Besides,” They kicked the arm and the whole creation shattered, leaving black mist fading in front of my face. “You’re not nearly far enough in that story to be threatening.”

I coughed, struggling to breathe. I wasn’t even sure how I breathed, since I was lacking a mouth. Come to think of it, how was I talking?

“Later.” I thought. “Can’t have distractions now.” I glared at Wib, my face shifting to an exclamation point. It usually did that when I was angry.

“Oh, come on!” Wib said, a mix of frustration and… sorrow, maybe? It was hard to tell. There was definitely strain in their voice. “Why are we still fighting?! Aren’t you tired?” I couldn’t deny that there was some truth in their words. I was definitely starting to get tired. I had no idea how long we had been fighting for.

I had no idea how time worked in this place, come to think of it. Wib always had better things to do than to help me figure things out.

“Let’s just go back to how things used to be. Don’t pick up the sword and we can just hang out.” They walked towards me, extending a hand out. A small part of me wanted to take it.

But before I could even move, I noticed something. A small shimmer in the air. Wib noticed it too. They frantically spun around and cursed.

“No, no, no, you can’t be here. We’re supposed to be alone!” They yelled at someone. I could tell that whoever they were speaking to couldn’t be seen. They were either hiding, or invisible. I didn’t spend much time trying to figure it out. I rushed out to grab my sword, hastily wrapping my hand around the hilt and pulling it from the ground.

“Don’t even think about it.” Wib turned towards me again suddenly, and I shuddered. I had never seen them so angry before.

Suddenly, the air shifted. The colours of the landscape dimmed and Wib rose into the air. But they weren’t alone. As they rose, a series of copies met them in the air. There must have been ten on either side of them at least.

“Uh oh.” A new voice rang out. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from. It sounded like a woman’s voice. Something in my mind was saying something about an American accent, but I had no idea what that was, so I ignored it. “It looks like I’m gonna need some back-up.” Despite the tension in the air, the voice sounded amused, like this was nothing to worry about.

“On it!” Another voice called out. This one was also a woman’s voice, but definitely different from the first one. It coincided with a sudden blast of fire that seemingly destroyed one of Wib’s copies. I looked in the direction of the blast and saw someone with a manic grin on their face.

It was a person wearing a hoodie, with blonde hair and what appeared to be green eyes. However, what I noticed before any of that were the wings and halo – or haloes in this case. Hali? I didn’t know the plural term for sure. But they had two floating on top of their head.

I didn’t have much time to think about the stranger before I felt a tugging at my arm. Hastily I turned and found myself facing a girl with brown hair and what appeared to be bird wings. She was grinning for some reason.

“We might wanna get a little further back.” I recognised the voice from earlier. This was the invisible one. “Lorel’s going to be busy.” She said. I didn’t get a chance to respond before I was suddenly being pulled into the air. In moments we were flying. We were surprisingly close to the group of Wibs. The blonde girl – Lorel, apparently, was chucking fireballs all over the place, and they were having a hard time dodging. The one in the centre, the Wib I knew, began to speak to her.

“Ah, Lorel. I’m told Mori has kept you away for some time.” They seemed to gloat. I had no idea who this ‘Mori’ was, but the name sounded vaguely familiar somehow. I felt a deep feeling of foreboding seep into my being at the sound.

“I’ve been better. Your little schemes aren’t working so well now.” She punctuated the point with a fireball to another copy. It burst into flames quickly, and I found myself disturbed by the scream it let out. I don’t know why, but I never really gave much thought to how these things would die. I assumed they would just dissipate instantly.

“Oh, come now. You can’t tell me you weren’t at least a little amused when we crashed the party.” Wib laughed. “I’m sure your little council is just dying of laughter.” Lorel growled fiercely at Wib, who suddenly seemed to realise the mistake of taunting someone who could fly and shoot fireballs.

“Shouldn’t we do something?” I called to the girl with crow wings who was carrying me through the air at alarmingly high speeds. She looked at me with a quizzical expression.

“If you want to attack, be my guest.” She said. “I’m happy to just let my wife go crazy for a while. She seems to have things pretty well handled.” She wasn’t exactly wrong. The copies were dropping pretty quickly, even if they did manage to get a few blows in. Still, I couldn’t just sit back and do nothing.

“I want to help.” I said with determination in my voice. I hesitated a little in my next words. “But, I can’t fly. Help?” The crow winged girl looked at me strangely for a moment before smiling.

“Alright then! I suppose staying up here would be a little boring.” She grinned as she spoke. If I had a face capable of doing the same, I would have.

“I’m Shandy, by the way. And you are?” She asked for my name. I wasn’t sure what to say to that. It wasn’t something I had ever thought about before.

“Nobody?” I joked.

“Alright, nice to meet you, Nobody! Now, you’re gonna have to trust me for this.” She said. I didn’t have time to question her words before we were suddenly flying in towards Wib and his army.

“Aren’t they going to see us?!” I yelled, as though that was the only problem I had with this plan.

“Have a little faith!” Shandy said. “Invisibility is kinda my thing. If I focus, they won’t even hear us.” I gave out a small sigh of relief.

“So, you ready?” I looked up with the question mark on my face suddenly feeling very fitting.

“Ready for wha-?!” I didn’t have the time to finish - something of a recurring theme with these people I found – before I was dropped down into the battlefield. Wib looked up in surprise. Evidently, Shandy’s invisibility powers had worked.

“What are you doing?!” Wib cried out. I didn’t take the time to answer them. I had to focus. It was either that or plummet to the ground and probably die. I didn’t know if I would take fall damage, but I had no desire to find out.

I tossed my cane into the air for a moment and summoned my Create Button. I heard a gasp from above me, but I tried to ignore it. I needed to focus.

“Platform. Create!” I compelled the button, and it supplied me with a small floating platform that I managed to land on. It probably wouldn’t last long, so I had to make my next strike count. Lorel appeared to be panting, fire ready in each hand. It seemed the clones had tired her out. There were only three Wibs left, but only one seemed to be panting as well. The others all had an unnatural grin.

“Gotta aim for the centre.” I said to myself. I prepped my sword and aimed my blade carefully. I had to wait for just the right moment. The two clones were blocking my path, and if I mis-timed it, I might be on the receiving end of one of Lorel’s fireballs.

Soon, the two clones charged forth, and Lorel raised her arms.

“Now!” I couldn’t help but yell. I leapt off the platform using as much strength as I could and thrust my sword out. It went right through Wib’s chest, and the two of us plummeted to the ground. It was quite the fall down to the glassy ground surface. Lorel managed to torch the copies easily. I wasn’t sure if there was a strength difference between the real Wib and the copies, but I liked to think that there was.

Even if there wasn’t, I knew I still had to be the one to finish this.

“After everything…” Wib choked out. “T-this is what you want? Did you hate me that much?” I tried my best to ignore their words. They weren’t a friend anymore. This had to be done. They would have kept me here forever if I hadn’t stopped them. I had to do it.

It still hurt. I just had to ignore it.

Their body quickly dissipated, just like I thought the copies would have. I had no idea what had changed. All I knew was that I was glad it was all over.

“Nice moves, Nobody!”

Well, almost over. Shandy walked over and tossed my cane back to me. I caught it with surprising ease. It was one of my constant items, so I guessed that it just naturally gravitated to me.

“Eh, I could’ve done that too.” Lorel said, evidently having landed on the ground.

“Probably.” I turned to face them. Both of their eyes widened a little. I wasn’t sure why. My face and chest had went to displaying ellipses, so maybe that was distracting.

“But I kinda felt like I had to do it.” I said. I turned my head briefly to where Wib’s body once was. “It was…personal, I guess.”

“Yeah, the first one always is.” Lorel said. “The block heads are pretty good at getting under your skin.” She looked angry for a moment, but her expression levelled to a small smile a moment later.

“I see.” I tipped my top hat towards them, slightly surprised that it had stayed on my head the whole time. “I appreciate the help, but who exactly are you two?”

“We’re Creators!” Shandy cheerfully answered. “I’m pretty sure you are too, actually. That would explain the button.” I looked at my hand for a moment.

“So you have buttons too?” I asked, my face morphing back into a question mark. Shandy nodded.

“Yep! They’re different for everyone. Every Creator, be they writer, artist, music maker, or whatever, has one just for them!” She explained. My suspicions were confirmed. There was more to the button than what I had seen. It was for ‘Creators’.

“We should probably get out of this place.” Lorel said. “It’ll be easier to explain everything when we’re back home.” Shandy nodded at Lorel as she spoke.

“True. Plus, we were supposed to make sure Andrew and Slime didn’t have another one of their ‘Epic Anime Showdowns’.” At Shandy’s words, Lorel suddenly paled and became panicked.

“OH CRAP! LY IS GOING TO KILL US!” She cried.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad.”

“It’s Slime and Andrew! We’ll have missed like fifty beam struggles by now!”

“I know…”

“Hey!” I called out, my voice suddenly much smaller than it had been. The others had been so busy arguing that they had missed the poof of smoke that preceded my transformation. I was now much smaller than I had been previously. I could probably fit in either of their hands. My sword had vanished, and my body was now a tiny sphere with tiny limbs jutting out. I still had my cane, which was my only way of seeing now. I could sort of sense the others presence, but my vision was terrible in this form.

This was a common occurrence for me, though I had no idea why. It was my first form, and I often shifted back to it when I was tired. My newer body was something of a work in progress.

“Aww, she’s adorable!” Shandy said, leaning down and scooping me up in her hands. I jumped and waved my cane in annoyance. I think Lorel must have nodded to her, but I couldn’t tell for sure.

“A definite babey.” I growled a little. “How’d you know she’s a she?”

“I just get that sort of vibe, you know?” Shandy said. I coughed a little, drawing their attention back to me.

“Well, you’re not wrong,” I said, embarrassed by the voice on my current form. It had switched to a lower pitch. It tended to switch around a lot. “But weren’t we going somewhere?” I heard the sound of someone pressing their palm into their face suddenly.

“That’s right!” Lorel said. “Shandy, hold the babey and let’s go. Hopefully Ly won’t be too mad.” A moment after she spoke, we were suddenly flying through the…air? Whatever, we were flying away.

“Nobody, you’re going to love where we’re going.” Shandy said. “We call it, ‘Creatorverse’!”

I tipped my tiny top hat in place of a nod. Creatorverse, huh?

I was looking forward to it.

---------------------------------------------------- (Insert Line Here) ----------------------------------------------

“Lord Mori, I’m afraid we have another escapee.”

“Oh?”

“It appears to be the Question Mark that we have lost.”

The darkly lit chamber was suddenly resounding with the sound of laughter from its master, Mori. They chuckled at the confirmation from one of their underlings. They didn’t care to remember its name.

“Perfect.” They said. “I know just what to do with her.”

[END]

---

Okay, I wrote this trash, and a bunc of people from Shandy’s dsicord wanted me to tag them so they could enjoy my nonsense, so here we go! @blossomtato, @onlyplatonicirl, @156lemongummies, @insane-but-smart, @shandycandy278 and @creatorverse

#writing #fanfic #sorry if I forgot to tag you #A lot of people wanted to see this for some reason #enjoy my self insert nonsense #This was kinda why I posted my updated sona ref earlier today #creatorverse #I hope y'all can forgive me for mary sueing you all #I had to check that Lorel could shoot fire #I HOPE Shandy turns invisible #Otherwise this makes no sense #CV Spoilers

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ghostiewriter · 3 years

Note

I know you're beta-ing my fic (love ya) but couldn't resist. Number 25 or 26 for the drabble challenge please 🙏

Ngl I really like this one!! Also it’s unedited so beware 💀and if you guys haven’t checked out Alex’s stuff, you should!! It’s amazing!😉

Word Count: 1.7K

Prompts: “Aren’t you supposed to be the adult?” // “I’m stuck! Help me!”

Motherhood was never a route Kiara saw herself going down.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be a mother, it was just that with all her dreams and ambitions and goals for the future…it just happened to clash with what she knew she definitely wanted. But that’s how these things always go, doesn’t it? Just when you least expecting it, shit hit the fan and you’re left scrambling around as you try and wrap your head around everything. That’s what happened with Kiara and motherhood. She wasn’t expecting it, it wasn’t planned. But she also wasn’t as opposed to the concept like her younger self was.

Kiara was fourteen when she decided she wanted to travel the world, to see new places and experience new cultures and open her eyes to a world beyond the small island she grew up on. And she did just that, lucky to enough have someone to share the experiences with. With the money they gained from the treasure, JJ and Kie had enough money to go wherever they wanted (after Pope made sure they kept some in the bank so they wouldn’t be idiots and spend it all, well to make sure JJ didn’t). But it was great, it was everything Kiara could’ve wished for her future, for their future.

Except on one of those breaks between adventures, Kiara found herself thrown into the deep-end of adulthood and she was lucky enough to have someone as supportive as JJ by her side.

And that, my friends, is how James Maybank was brought into the world.

Kiara had never seen herself being a mother until the second she held her son in her hands. Tears in her eyes and a wide smile on her face as she looked at the little human she and JJ created was enough for Kiara to realise that having a child didn’t change any of her plans. She and JJ would still travel and have their adventures, they would just have an extra little explorer with them.

James Maybank was the perfect mix of his parents. In terms of looks, he was truly a kid that drew attention to himself. Tousled brown hair that was an exact copy of his mother’s, with little strands of dirty blonde running through his little curls. His skin was tanned and sun-kissed, a warm golden-bronze so fitting for a summer baby. But his eyes—it was his eyes that caught people’s attention. Bright blue just like his father. It was a shock to both parties when they saw those little blue eyes of his. At first, the doctor told them it was common for new-born babies to have blue eyes and their natural eye colour will develop over the next few weeks. Except James’s eyes remained blue—vibrant and captivating and complementing his tanned skin so well and framed so neatly by the little round-rim glasses he wore. Like mentioned before, he was the perfect mix of JJ and Kiara: his eyes and her hair, his nose and her lips, his bone structure but her cheekbones. The perfect product of JJ Maybank and Kiara Carrera.

However, despite the physical similarities she shared with her son, his personality was driven straight from the chaos of his father. Wild and rambunctious and energetic. He always kept the couple on their toes: JJ’s scheming skills and Kie’s intelligence was a dangerous combination that James just so happened to have. A little troublemaker even at the ripe age of three.

It’s usually why Kiara avoids leaving the two of them alone together for long periods of time, because who knows what nonsense they would get up to.

And of course, Kiara’s point was proved once again.

It was a hot summer day when JJ suggested they head over to the mainland for a wee day trip, just have a little family day before the big Pogue family trip next week to California. Most of the summer had been spent with the other pogues—not that she minded—and James being coddled by her parents, so Kie was all up for them to spend some time as just the three of them. It was the ideal day: walking around the mainland boutiques, grabbed some ice cream and walked along the beach as they ate it, all before heading towards the little play area that was on the pier that James had been eyeing all day.

They had put all their stuff down at a small café table where Kie was able to grab a seat outside. There was the perfect view of the play area from here. But before she could head over with James, JJ was pushing her down in a seat, telling her to relax and assuring her that he could watch over James while she had a coffee or something. So like the fool she was, she went ahead with JJ’s plan (as though their teenage shenanigans hadn’t taught her that JJ’s plans were always the worst).

However, things were going fairly smoothly. Kie was able to order a tea for herself and indulge in a book she had just bought that day. She was able to relax in the sunshine and enjoy a few moments of piece without her favourite hectic boys. Well, only for a short amount of time before a distressed James came running up to her.

“Mama! Mama!” He was panting and huffing, exhausted from how far he ran on his little legs. His fists gripped the hem of her shirt, tugging on it to gain her attention. And when Kie placed her drink and book down, she noticed how dishevelled his appearance was.

“What’s up, bub?” She asked as she gently fixed his askew glasses so they rested comfortably on his nose. However, before she could even attempt to fix his hair, James was grabbing her hands and attempting to tug her up.

“C’mon!” He whined and Kiara only laughed a little as she finally stood up. In an instant, he began to drag her towards the play area where she assumed that he had built some sandcastle in the sand pit he wanted to show her or even show her some neat trick he learnt on the jungle gym.

But it’s safe to say that she wasn’t expecting to see the sight in front of her.

She pressed her lips together, trying to stop herself from bursting into laughter. “JJ?”

“Kiara!” JJ’s head snapped up, looking relieved to see her. “I’m stuck! Help me!”

JJ Maybank: surfing legend, notorious troublemaker, a little schemer since he learnt how to walk. JJ Maybank: the boy that became the biggest pain in the ass to the OBX police force since they were probably first formed. JJ Maybank: the boy that shocked everyone and became a better man than anyone with his last name ever could.

And now he was JJ Maybank: the 26 year old moron who was currently stuck in a children’s jungle gym. It looked like one of those tunnels that kids climbed through to get from one side of the climbing frame to the other. Except instead of being able to crawl through completely, JJ had his head sticking out whilst everything below his shoulders was stuck in the tunnel.

“Oh, baby, this has gotta be a new record for stupid things you’ve done.” Kiara commented, hand over her mouth but he could tell by the shaking in her shoulders that she was laughing.

“Is Dada gonna be okay?” James spoke up, tugging on Kie’s hand he hadn’t let go of as he glanced between his parents. In an instant, Kie’s expression softened up.

“He’s gonna be fine, bub,” She assured him with a smile as she kneeled down to his height. “No need to be worried, in fact, you should be laughing!” She told him.

“Kiara!”

“Oh.” James muttered, turning to look at his father with his head tilted before he burst into a fit of giggles.

“Great,” JJ muttered bitterly as he stared at the ground. “Now ever my own son is laughing at me!”

“Oh, c’mon, it’s funny!” Kiara countered, arms wrapped around James with her head resting on his shoulder as they both snickered at JJ’s current predicament.

“Just help me get out!” He whined out. “I really need to pee.”

Eventually, Kiara headed back to the table at the café to grab her phone. After taking enough photos for her own amusement later, she called the local authorities that sent a team out to help break JJ out of the jungle gym. It took a total of two hours, by which the time JJ was finally free from his entrapment, the family had to head back to the island if they wanted to catch the last ferry.

“I can’t believe you.” Kie murmured as she leaned against JJ, the young boy fast asleep on their laps as they headed back to the mainland. They spoke in quiet whispers, letting James get the rest he deserved after such an eventful day.

“It wasn’t my fault!” He hissed quietly, looking down at James and gently pushing some hair out of his face. “It was his idea.” He added with a childish pout.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the adult?” She countered, a small smirk tugging on her lips.

“He’s a troublemaker, I’m telling you. Flashes you some puppy dog eyes and suddenly you’re crawling through some hellhole that is designed for Oompa Loompas.” He muttered, narrowing his eyes at the sleeping child. “He’s like an evil little mastermind.”

“Just like his father then.” Kiara commented, only causing JJ to look at her with a shocked expression. “Oh don’t look at me like that! You know I’m right, Jay. You were probably worse than him!”

JJ’s eyes widened slightly before he nodded. “Yeah, no fair enough.” He murmured with a nod before he grinned down at his son. “Ah, I feel like such a proud father knowing he is going to be such a charmer when he’s older.” Kie let out a scoff as she lightly elbowed him, but they both had massive smiles on their faces.

“Let’s just hope he doesn’t take years to finally make a move like his father.” Kie commented.

“Oh, wow, really? That’s the game you’re playing?” He retorted. “You literally made up a whole rule that stopped me from making a move.”

“Should’ve read between the lines.” She said with an innocent shrug. But then she turned to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “But I’m glad you finally did make a move.”

JJ grinned at her before he looked down at James, who was still fast asleep with small snores escaping his lips.

“Yeah, me too.”

#jiara #outer banks #obx #jiara prompts #writing prompts #my writing

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wri0thesley · 3 years

Text

replying to some anons under the cut so i dont spam ur dashes with like 10 asks in a row!

Anonymous said: How can you be so in love I’m jealous (But in all seriousness Its so nice that you’ve found someone that makes you truly happy)

being in love with haz is very easy because she is perfect

Anonymous said: In my head Tiziano and Squalo have a private mentality about their job so their s/o doest know their team (but, unfortunately, their team knows their s/o) and for that i think it would be funny their reaction if by mere coincidence their s/o meet someone of their team, like imagine that they are coming back from a mission and s/o calls telling them "hi loves, i found one of your friends, he told me he knew you both and looked kind of lost so i brought him back to the apartment" and to their surprise they see s/o feeding cookies to Secco who is very comfy in their couch with s/o. Worst if s/o it's like "he told me to call someone, who it was? cio, oh, Ciocolata, but he lost his phone, do you have his number? also we need more sugar, i kind of use it all in his cookies". The bad part it's that now, Secco likes their s/o in a friendly way, so he keeps coming back for cookies and friendly pets, the good part it's that if Cioccolata gets weird Secco kind of distract him or get defensive of his "new friend".

honestly if your team includes cioccolata and secco would YOU introduce your lovely s/o to your team? i wouldnt either. secco is definitely taking advantage of their s/o’s lovely nature and their skills at baking cookies but at least it’s JUST secco and not cioccolata. YET.

Anonymous said: Hi i just wanted to tell you that i think you are amazing, very kind and that i love your writting. Also you and Haz are a very cute couple 💕

thank you so much anon!!! ;_; i hope you are having a nice day! <3

Anonymous said: I’m obsessed with the faerie prince gojo au you proposed the other day would love to see more about that

i just fucking LOVE faeries. i think they are so cool and their mythology is so interesting. when i was thinking about that au i was getting back up to date with one of my favourite ongoing internet series, how to survive camping on nosleep on reddit, and they had a plot going with a faerie knight that stirred up my brain (i 100% recommend how to survive camping if you like cool worldbuilding and horror btw it’s SO GOOD). i may very well write a full-length piece for faerie prince gojo or maybe even some other faerie series pieces, but rn i wanna work on my requests and finishing a well-rounded education! after that . . . who knows >:3

Anonymous said: Omg you are a godsend nat, you’ve made me fall so much more in love with tiz and squalo AND sorlato 🥺please don’t ever stop I love your content but also don’t ever feel pressured to write anything you don’t want to (embrace the self-indulgence! :3) ❤️

ahh thank u so much anon! i am always here to spread the word of Sorlato Nonsense. i appreciate it when u guys tell me to be self-indulgent fdbghvnfgn

Anonymous said: Hello! I just wanted to know if you got my ask about Gojo and reader who is usually sweet but decides to "punish" or act out cuz shes annoyed with Gojo?? Alot of my asks have gotten eaten by Tumblr and I just wanted to make sure you got it!! >.< Thank you!

i did anon! <3 honestly tumblr is a barely functioning website but on this occasion we have been blessed by the tumbeasts

Anonymous said: Rehead Formaggio and blue-grey Formaggio feel like two different sides of the same coin but ultimately gove off two completely different vibes and idk how to feel about it (in a good way)

i guess it’s all of the extra red in his colour scheme but redhead formaggio just seems like Slightly More Of A Pal. also more of a thot, i cant believe that david pro said ‘no we will give him a full shirt’ instead of letting him have his weird little cut-out hole grid thing. idk something about manga formaggio just is more appealing to me Visually fgnjkbjngf

Anonymous said: I saw someone asked for your requests of Choso, but what do you have in your inbox for Nanami? 👀

NANAMI REQUESTS: - nanami with a clumsy s/o - jealousy sex n aftercare with a chubby reader - comfort scenario with nanami and a transmasc reader - nsfw scenario that turns into fluff - nanami teasing and edging a fem s/o - gojo and the students arrange a surprise date for mutually pining nanami n reader - poly gojo/nanami relationship hcs - nanami receiving a lapdance from his s/o (but i have reqs for lapdance headcanons in general for jjk men so i might combine them!) - also hc requests that include nanami: confident and headstrong reader who turns out to be shy in bed, gojo and nanami helping crush through a breakup, how they react to s/o getting injured whilst fighting beside them.

Anonymous said: Ahh Nat thank you for allowing me to scream into your inbox abou jjk! And this is not /really/ a theory but a confusion/rant! You know, since Jogo, Hamani and Dagon (I hope I wrote their names right) got introduced I was confused as to why they aren't older. I thought each of them represent nature/natural disasters and humanity has feared them since the dawn of mankind! Also why did Mahito only recently gain self-awareness if humans have always been horrible to each other? Shouldn't he be v old?

honestly i kind of got the impression that especially hanami was pretty old! afaik mahito’s the only one who’s described as being specifically ‘new’, maybe they’ve just been hanging around waiting for someone like getwo to appear who they think can actually make a difference/combine them!! i think maybe it’s also to do with the ‘rise in power’ that we’ve been hearing lots of talk about in the last few chapters, that there’s just A LOT of cursed energy flying around and it’s making everything happen all at once? humans have always been horrible to each other i think but i wonder if it’s also to do with how much more the earth is populated now and how much easier it is to be horrible and hear about horrible things other humans have done to one another?

#nat.txt #not sfw text #jjk manga spoilers #jjk posting #jojo postin #poly ship tag

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number5theboy · 3 years

Text

Creator Tag Game

I was tagged by the awesome Michelle @lilapittss, thank you, I really love your creations!!

rules: answer the questions and then tag 10+ other creators to answer the questions!

first creation and most recent creation of 2020: I’m restricting it to creations published on this blog alone, which I started at the end of April. The first gifset was a gifset of Five, specifically non-verbal acting moments that I love, to celebrate my new URL. And the last gifset is me right back where I started from, it’s Five again, a collection of same moments between show and comic Five that I am very proud of.

one of your favorite creations from 2020: It is my most self-indulgent gifset to date, but I love my gifset of Five & Figures from Greek Mythology he reminds me of. The colouring turned out fire, and I like the text I came up with a lot. Five really is a character that feels like a Greek hero, truly one of those fatally flawed, deeply tragic characters that has a similar framing to a Greek tragedy, and I like that a lot, because it comes with an inherent moral ambiguity. It’s pretentious and maybe a bit reaching, but if it fits, it sits.

one new style you tried this year and a gifset that uses it: Blending! I tried it on this gifset for the countdown to season 2, it took me a small eternity and I am not satisfied at all with the result, and I haven’t tried it since, even though I’ve been wanting to.

your favorite coloring: I LOVE the colouring on this gifset of Five and Vanya fighting. It looks so good, I adore it, truly.

a creation that took you forever: It is literally called the Mammoth Project - I made this extensive Five appreciation gifset where I tried to showcase as much of Aidan Gallagher’s character work and range as possible. I’m proud of it, but it did take me over a week to complete.

your creation from 2020 that received the most notes: Five Suffering For Nineteen Days Straight currently stands at 7.7k notes, and it also took me forever, and it makes me happy that it didn’t flop.

a creation you think deserved more notes: this gifset of Five and the Handler and this general gifset are two of my best colourings ever, and the gifsets flopped HARD. Especially the first one deserves better, I still think it’s gorgeous.

a creation with a favorite scene/quote: THIS GIFSET OF FIVE THROWING DIEGO UNDER THE BUS. It has the tag ‘listen he is a bastard and I love him so much’. I stand by that tag.

a new fandom you joined and a creation you made for it: well, all of this is TUA-themed, but I do adore this gifset of Season 1 lyrics that would have fit a Hargreeves sibling they weren’t used for.

a creation you made that breaks your heart: The one that broke everyone else’s hearts too. Just a gifset of the 567 siblings and how they were made into monsters by people just using them.

a ‘simple’ creation that you really love: I simply adore my Luther&Diego relationship development gifset. It’s a simple theme of blue and orange, but it turned out pretty, and I love my idea of the black and white gifs representing the start- and endpoint of the development. Good himbo bros are a weakness of mine.

a creation that was inspired by another one (add both your creation and the one that inspired it!): to be honest, the only one that was inspired by something else is the show/comic Five comparison, it was inspired by and expands upon this post

a favorite creation created by someone else: where to start....

very recently, this beautiful Vissy gifset by Ren, it’s SO pretty and SO romantic and I love the way they set it up, especially that last gif has been living rent free in my head since I saw it

everything Arianna has ever done ever, she makes the most beautiful, aesthetically pleasing creations, but I’m very biased and I really love the gifsets she made for me, this beautiful Five gifset and especially this horror gifset she made for an AU of mine, I still look at that one about once a week

GOD I LOVE THIS ALLISON & VANYA GIFSET that Michelle made, I am SO emo just thinking about it, it’s gorgeous and emotional and I love it.

the wonderful Francesca, queen of the colour orange, made this Five gifset that I just adore, the colour scheme and the blur and the little circles with the pops of blue....gorgeous and the quote is perfect

The Hargreeves Siblings Suffering™ that Myra made an updated Season 2 version of. I remember the Season 1 version, and it is still as painful, and Myra’s blending is SO good in all her gifsets, but I love the contrast of colour and black/white here so much

Isha’s gifset of Soft™ Hargreeves Siblings just warms my heart and makes me smile every time I see it. She also made great gifset of the relationships of the siblings throughout the siblings, specifically Diego & Vanya and Five & Vanya.

In the completely opposite camp, Zahraa made a gifset entitled # team zero braincells, and it is exactly what one would want it to be. I remember seeing it and laughing my ass off. And this Five gifset of hers is one of my favourite Five gifsets ever, period. Because it showcases what I like most about Five, which is Aidan Gallagher’s performance. It highlights so many good acting moments and I love it to bits.

Artemis made this STUNNING gifset that is just a call to take Reginald down for all he did to the kids, with a BEAUTIFUL layout that I really adore. It looks SO good. And she is an expert at funny gifsets that also look super pretty. This one Vanya ‘miss my with that ‘weapon accuracy’ shit’ delights me to this day, just the idea and execution is on point, hilarious, 111/10.

Maggie just has such a grasp on colourful, vibrant gifs, and I have since made peace with the fact that I will never ever be able to colour Five as prettily as she did in this Bruised And Battered Five gifset. Literally nothing tops that second gif. It is so beautiful. Also, both on a colour and typography and emotional level, this gifset of Five and Vanya just hits perfectly. The quote fits them so well and I’m such a sucker for gifsets that celebrate their sibling relationship, and I love it so much.

last but not least, Tess has been a genuine joy to talk to and one of the most creative people I’ve ever seen on this site. Shoutout to their little Hargreeves Emoji Quotes creation that is SO cute, and their Five and Allison Quote sets, they look STUNNING and the bold colours and typography.....Tess, your talent!!!

some of your favorite content creators from the year: Legit, folks, I couldn’t pick a single creation by someone else to shout out, so I picked one or more of each of you, because you are all amazing and talented, so I wanted to pay you compliments. You have filled my dash with so much beauty and joy and you are all such inspirations. I wish you all a wonderful new year, @almondchestnut, @seance, @lilapittss, @evakant, @andyoudoctor, @diazalex, @zavens, @fivevanyaklaus, @lukehan, @ogaferoga, you all rock. Also if any of you haven’t done this tag (I have lost track) feel free to do it :)

another couple more creations of yours that you love:

my pair of Five character moments that I drenched in the same colouring: Five + sarcasm + coffee and Five moonlighting as the Commission assassin therapist

my Umbrella Academy Film Genre AUs: Horror Movie and Film Noir

Lost Hargreeves parallel gifset, because the last two gifs still make my heart clench

#Replies #lilapittss #tag game #this took me two hours dhgdhbghdfhjkdg because i just kept thinking of gifmakers i wanted to shout out

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a-simple-imagine · 4 years

Text

Welcome to Westworld

Synopsis: Y/N and Natasha visit Westworld where they meet a particular blonde.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader, elements of Dolores x fem!reader

Words: 4.2k+

A/N - This turned out a little longer than expected and totally self-indulgent. I guess it is a crossover.

"Can you believe we're actually here?" Excitement oozed from every word that left your lips as you step off the train. It was nothing more than a train station but you couldn't help but admire it. It was almost too perfect, the pristine white and black of every surface; it was elegant. Even the people who occupied the platform were dressed in white.

"Not really," Natasha groaned, pushing you gently forward. "All I got from Tony for my birthday was a card."

"Yeah... well... I'm his favourite."

It was definitely meant as a brag after all this place cost thousands of dollars. A young woman calls out your name as she approaches. She was a traditional kind of pretty, piercing blue eyes with not a blonde hair out of place. Not a blemish on her ivory skin. "Welcome to Westworld."

Natasha was already being lead away by one of the men in white as you follow your guide.

"Given it's your first visit, I have a few questions for you." She draws your attention back. The woman proceeds to inquire about your medical history; basic questions about previous conditions and your mental health. She takes you up the escalators, and at the top is a giant screen advertising the park. You couldn't wait to get inside.

"So how does this all work?" You wonder, "Is there like an orientation... or tutorial, maybe?"

The other woman smiles ever so softly, it was a gorgeous smile. "No orientation, half the fun is figuring out how it all works. You'll start in the town at the centre of the park; it's relatively safe. Then the further you go out the more intense the experience becomes. how far you go is up to you."

You nod along as she speaks; wondering if Natasha is going through the same line of questioning. "Makes sense."

The woman whose name you have yet to be told leads you into what you assume is a dressing room. Different selections of clothes lined the walls. With glass display cases in the centre. "This will be the first choice you make; everything in here is bespoke and exactly your size so please take your time."

You drift over to a display of dresses. They ranged from simple picnic dresses to eccentric ball gowns. Your fingers dance over the material of each dress before selecting a blue one. It had a high collar to frame the face paired with a flattering "V" cut. long leg-o-mutton sleeves and full skirt with pockets. It was adorned with a delicate red rose pattern. "Found something you like?"

You almost forgot she was here. You shake your head, placing the dress back. Your eyes fall to a display case of pistols that stood centre. "Are those real?" You ask as you walk over.

"Real enough," She responds; the guns were in perfect 3 x 3 lines.

"I thought you couldn't get hurt here," you comment as you look over the following case which held a few shotguns.

"Only the right amount." You look to her, brows furrowed a little before focusing on the suits. You didn't have anything against the dresses but they weren't practical for what you had in mind. A suit on the other hand; you'd look like a traditional cowboy. You select a black jacket before turning to your little companion.

"Uh... should I get changed in another room or?"

"I can help you or I can step out of you like," you chucked a little until you realised she was serious. The blonde takes a few steps closer, you swallow hard at how close she is. She smells good; sweet. "Whatever, you want."

You're stunned for a moment. "I... can dress myself- thank you though, really."

she smiled tightly before wandering away. "I'll be outside if you need anything."

You opted for a long black jacket with matching slacks that were held up by suspenders. A striped white shirt and a little red scarf to complete the look. You had a gun holster strapped to your hip with a small silver pistol lodged in it. You'd gotten changed a couple of times before finally settling on this look and went to find your guide. "How do I look?"

"Time for the final touch," she leads you to a corridor with hats hug up on the wall. In different colours and sizes. You select a white hat to help break up the black a little; it was more tan than white. An Ivory hat. And thus concluded your introduction to the world, she left you to walk down a long corridor to a brown door. You twisted the nob and walked through to an ensemble of men and women. It was old fashioned, really looked the part. You find Natasha sat at the bar, nursing a whiskey.

"Damn, cowboy," you comment playfully, "Is this seat taken?"

Natasha turns to you, eyes drifting over your outfit as you take in hers. She wore dark brown trousers with a lighter brown vest no shirt underneath which showed off her arms. A brown hat on her head. "I'm surprised you didn't come out in one of those dresses, you're not gonna be too hot in that?"

"I almost did," You shrug a little, glancing around at the men in costumes. "I don't reckon so but I can always take off the jacket."

The bartender poured you a drink you never asked for which you took with a smile, heading over to get a look out the window. There was nothing but darknesses you twisted on your heel to glance back at her. "I wonder what it's like...

The once cramped compartment felt so much freer as light spilled into the cabin. You turn quickly to get the first glimpse of Westworld. The large mountains, canyons, the blue sky. It was all... surreal. This place must be absolutely huge.

Pulling up to the station; you're not even sure how you got on the train. Yes you walked through the door but how did a static door lead to a moving train? You get down off the train almost too scared to step into the unknown. Natasha trailed behind you as you walk into the small town of Sweetwater. It didn't seem all that big but it was busy. Too many things were hitting you at once you weren't sure what part to take in.

"Slow down, dude," you almost stumble into two girls as she calls out to you but you manage to dodge, with each step you feel your confidence grow.

"Come on Natasha," she's a fair few paces behind. "What should we do first- Hurry up,"

You wait for her to catch up before continuing. Glancing at each building as if trying to find something to break the immersive experience but everything seemed like it fit into this world perfectly. You couldn't even tell who were guests and who were the hosts, everything just worked. "What do you wanna do?"

"I don't know, it's your present." A large white building catches your eye. MARIPOSA was written in large black letters across the top of the building, above some decking. Saloon and hotel were written slightly smaller. "I think we should-"

Her voice drifts as you wander over to a poster that was pinned to a post, fluttering gently in the breeze. You flatten it out and a giant smile spreads over your lips as the words WANTED becoming clear as day

"You sure you can handle that?" The voice of reason has returned. Natasha was stood behind you.

"I'm a tough girl," you argue, "I could do it."

"Maybe start smaller, yeah? Stay in town get the lay of the land-"

You're not in the mood for Natasha's sensibility. Maybe you weren't ready to go hunting for outlaws but you could if you wanted to and surely you could find someone around here willing to help out. It's almost second nature to drown out her talking when you don't wanna listen as your attention becomes drawn somewhere else once again. You catch sight of a woman with a tan and black horse. Her light blue dress stood out against the otherwise drab colour scheme. She had beautiful golden hair that absorbed the sun. You don't know what it is but you can't help but watch her for a moment as she tries to shove a bag into the satchel on her horse; a can spilling out and onto the floor. Without a second thought, you're walking towards her, scooping up the can.

"Excuse me miss, I think you dropped this." Her delicate features come into view and you have to take a step back to appreciate. She was beautiful; overly so. Some would even say perfect. Her lips curled up into a gracious smile that brings joy to your face.

"Stop running off on me," Natasha scolds as she walks up behind, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Who's this?"

It takes you a moment to even comprehend that Natasha is talking. "Uhhh... I don't know."

"I'm Dolores," the otherwise annoying southern drawl is charming to the ear. "Thank you for the can,"

"You're Welcome," you tilt your cowboy hat a little, introducing yourself and Natasha. "So are you from around here, Dolores?"

"I am," she nods, smiling brightly. "I live just down the road but I don't think I've ever seen you two before. Suppose you're some of those newcomers, we get a lot of those."

You glance to Natasha who just shrugs. If she lived here that meant she was a host even though she definitely didn't seem like one. And you technically were newcomers just not in the way she's probably thinking. "That we are ma'am. I hate to be a bother but we were wondering if you might now what there is to do for fun around here?"

"It's no bother," she deliberates for a moment, putting the can away on her horse. "I guess it would depend on what you're looking for."

"I guess it would," you chuckle. Half the fun is figuring it out but you had no clue where to start. "Uh... what do you do for fun?"

She looks to you for a moment, paused in thought. "I go to my favourite spot by the river and paint."

"That sounds nice," not what you were expecting her to say but sure. You look to Natasha wondering what she wants to do.

"I think we should secure a place to sleep and eat first, maybe get a drink too."

"Alright," You sigh, logic beats fun here. Secure food and shelter was a very Natasha thing to say. "Would you mind taking us out tomorrow? We could go down to the river- I promise we won't get in the way?"

"I would be delighted." You can't help but feel a little delight at her words. "I'll meet you two back here tomorrow morning then."

"Perfect."

"Do you have horses?" The blonde asks, climbing up and onto hers.

"I'm afraid not we came on the train, know where we can get one?"

"I can bring some if you like?" She offered, her hand patting her horse a couple of times. "Or there is a stable on the edge of town, they should have a few if you got the money."

"We'll buy a few, thanks." May as well get some for the duration of your stay.

"I guess I'll see you two tomorrow then,"

"Bye Dolores," you wave as she rides off. Instantly turning to Natasha with the giddiness of a small child.

"I can't believe we came all the way here and you just wanna sit on the side of a river with some random girl."

"I wanted to go bounty hunting but you said no," you huff. "Besides, it's just one day. I'm pacing myself so where to next?"

"I need a drink but maybe we should get a couple horses first?"

"Okay... let's find the stables,"

It takes a while to find the stables. In the end Natasha had to ask a local who pointed you in the right direction. The stables were a big reddish-brown barn with a paddock to the left. One door was left open so you just wandered on in. It was considerably darker inside, dirty too. Despite the smell, there didn't actually seem to be a horse in sight.

"Howdy, folks. You looking to sell or buy?" An older gentleman startles you from the right. He had a white mustache but lacked hair on top of his head.

"Buy? How much is a horse?"

"Depends on the horse missy." You weren't sure how you felt about being called missy but you let it slide. "I've only got one left, ain't too many selling these days but he's a real beaut."

"Can we afford this?" Natasha asks quietly. The thing with theme parks was that despite the expensive entry fee, nothing seemed to come for free. You could steal a horse but that seemed risky so buying one was the next option.

"I don't know but Tony said to go nuts. I'm taking that as buy the horse."

In the very back stood just that; a horse. Black as the night with patches of white across his back, a crescent of white adorned the top of his head. "He's a big fella but gentle as can be," he reaches over to run his hand across the horse's nose. "I should be getting more in soon but this is the best I got for now. I'll even throw in everything you need to look after him, saddle and all."

"We'll take him," you declare quickly before Natasha can have a chance to say no.

"Great, let me just grab his papers."

You smile to Natasha. "Go pay the man,"

With a roll of her eyes, she wonders after the stable keeper. Staying with the horse, you walk closer; reaching out slowly. The animal was soft to the touch and made your smile brighten. "I think I'll call you moonshine."

Natasha returns a moment later with papers in hand. "He's ours."

"Great... do you know how to ride a horse?" You ask Natasha. The stable guy opens the door to let the horse trot out so he can attach the saddle. You watch him carefully to make sure you remember the process just in case.

"Do you?" You didn't so you shake your head. You'd never thought the skill would come in handy.

"Guess it's time to learn."

"You're all set," The man announces, slapping his hands together.

"Thank you," you take the horse's reigns and begin walking back towards the door. Thankfully the horse follows. "Where to next?"

"Food?" Natasha suggests. "Find a place to sleep.

"Let's hitch the horse and grab some food, I think I saw a restaurant back in town."

"Hitch the horse- listen to you cowboy."

After dinner, you retire to the Sweetwater inn. It was incredibly cheap but money was different back then so it makes sense. The next morning, Natasha is up at the crack of dawn, waking you up at around ten. You have breakfast before finding Dolores at the wayside.

"Morning, you two."

"Good morning, Dolores." You answer with a yawn.

"I see you got yourself a horse,"

"His name is Moonshine," you answer. "They only had one though."

"That's alright. One of you can ride with me."

"I'll ride with you," You weren't giving up the chance to get closer to her. Natasha's brows furrow at your eagerness. "I don't trust Natasha on a horse."

You climb up behind Dolores and it's a little daunting being up so high up. It's instinctive to put your arms around her to make yourself feel safer. Heat rushing to your cheeks as you realise you've just grabbed a woman you hardly know.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" you pull away.

"It's alright, have you ever ridden a horse before?" Dolores quarries.

Your head shakes. "No."

Reaching behind her, she searches for your hands. You take hold of hers and she places them around her. "We'll be okay just hold tight."

Dolores feels warm in your embrace and she smells like fresh linen. It's weird how... normal she felt. You kind of expected her to feel hard and cold but she felt like any other human being. It's like when you put your arms around Natasha who gets annoyed when you don't let go. "I'll go slow at first so you can get used to it."

You nod a little even though she can't see and with a flick of her wrist, the horse starts moving. Your grip tightens around her at the motion but you relax with a heavy sigh. It takes a second but you work up the courage to look at Natasha who seems at home aboard Moonshine; no surprise there.

"You doing okay back there?"

"Mhmm,"

The horse gets faster but it's not as bad this time; you've grown accustomed to the motion. You don't know how long you're up there for but you approach the river with a gentle curiosity. Natasha helps you down form the horse, which doesn't seem as big from the ground. Looking out over the river, it was a beautiful spot of lush green. Natasha walks up beside you as Dolores collects her things from her horse. "She felt real," you hum quietly, not bothering to look at her. "Like I don't know how to explain it... she doesn't feel like a machine."

"Doesn't mean she isn't one," Natasha pats you firmly on the back. "Remember that,"

You watch her walk to the river edge before glancing at Dolores who had set up her axel.

"Whose horses are those?" You ask out loud, pointing to a spot where three horses roamed. They seemed to be enjoying the grass.

"Oh they're wild," Dolores replies. "Do you want to get closer?"

With Dolores leading the way, you approach the three beasts. One was chestnut brown, the other tan and finally the third was a greyish white. The white horse trots closer to the two of you as Dolores offers out her hand.

"Here," she hands you a slice of apple. "Put your hand out real flat."

Doing as instructed, the horse seems cautious but eventually takes the free food leaving a little slobber in its wake.

"Hey Nat, we could have just gotten a couple of these instead of buying one."

"I don't know about you but I don't think we could tame a wild one."

"They're really quite gentle," The host interrupts, stroking the neck of the horse. You're utterly amused by the whole situation. This place was, in terms of technology, so advanced, and yet life was simple. It was the little moments that were so enticing- although you still wanted to go chase criminals at some point.

The day is spent with Dolores. It's joyful and peaceful although you're not sure how much fun Natasha is having. As the sun began to set and Dolores insisted she had to get home, you go your separate ways and head back to Sweetwater with Natasha.

Tonight was Natasha's turn to pick and so you ended up in the Saloon. It was surprisingly full and lively. A man sat at the piano, playing tune after tune. There was a poker game taking place between a group of men. And you were pretty sure there were working girls wondering about offering their... services.

"How do you think they make them so realistic?" You think out loud as you stand at the bar. "Like Dolores was one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. And there's just no way you could tell she wasn't another human being without knowing beforehand."

"Will you shut up about Dolores," Natasha groaned. "There are plenty of other..."

Her voice trails off and you find a stranger stood just behind you. She was a pretty brunette and sporting a deep blue ruffled and laced corset dress. It looked good on her. A soft hand danced ever so lightly over the skin of your cheek. "You're new," she hums, bringing her fingertips to her lips. "Not much of a rind on you."

You swallow hard under her gaze as she smiles. "I can give you a discount. It's normally five dollars but I can do it for four."

You glance towards Natasha, it had become a habit since entering the park. You wanted to gauge her reaction; figure out what she deemed okay. "Go ahead," The redhead brings a shot glass to her lips, knocking it back. "I don't care if you fuck a robot,"

"She's not-" you cut yourself off, "thank you for the offer ma'am but I'm gonna have to decline. Maybe another time."

"You don't have to be so negative all the time." You growl as you lean down against the bar, signaling for the bartender to refill your glass. "Maybe actually pretend to enjoy this place."

"How am I being negative?"

"The point of this place is to have fun and experience the old west. Live without limits," you try to keep your voice down but not so much it's drowned out by everything else going on in here. "You don't have to keep telling me everything isn't real- I know that. I know the hosts aren't people but they're basically the same so just stop it. Maybe I should have come alone."

You down a shot of whiskey which burns as it drifts down your throat before finding a seat at an empty table. "Look I'm sorry," Natasha takes up the seat opposite you. "I'll try to take this more seriously okay? I don't mean to ruin your experience."

"Would you really not be mad if I fucked that girl?"

"I mean... it's your money to waste. Why? Are you curious."

"Maybe just a little," you chuckle. It was a genuine curiosity if you were being honest. Surely they can't feel real in those moments. "I won't though."

Natasha is relatively happy as you get a couple drinks in her, so the night practically flies by. You even try your hand at a little poker which you're bad at but Natasha seems to be cleaning up.

Day 3 of your Westworld adventure and you're not quite sure what to do. Where to go? Or who to talk to? You stood staring at the wanted poster from the day you walked in. Natasha was in the general store picking up some supplies. Maybe today was the day to do something a little more... exciting. Then you spot her again; Dolores. She brings a smile to your lips as you watch her but it's quick to fade as three men approach her. You can't hear them but you also can't just assume they have bad intentions so you keep an eye on the interaction. Mainly on Dolores in the middle and when she tries to push past and they stop her, you spring into action.

"Fellas, how about you leave my friend here alone."

They all turn to you and you take a step back. Are they hosts or guests? You couldn't tell. "Or what?" A nasally voice assaults your ears. The owner was a short man with thick brown hair. "We can do whatever we want so fuck off."

"I said, leave her alone." You stand your ground, hand lingering on the gun you hadn't had the honour of using just yet. "Now."

The biggest of the lot was a burly man with a thick beard. He definitely seemed like he would win if this ended in a fistfight. He towers over you, grabbing you by the arm but before you can react, Natasha is between you. Pressing the man's arm up against his back. "You so much as look at my girlfriend again and I will break your arm, you understand? Now the lady asked you nicely to leave so I'd listen if I were you."

Natasha releases him and he fixes himself. A triumphant smirk appears on your lips. You may have wanted to test out your gun but maybe Natasha jumping in had been for the best. "Come on boys. It's not worth it."

"Thank you," Dolores looks relieved to see you and it fills you with an undeniable warmth. There was just something about her that you absolutely adored; and it wasn't just the pretty face.

"It was no big deal," You respond casually. "Some guys can be such assholes."

"Still, I'm grateful." You're proud of yourself even if Natasha did the heavy lifting. "I'd love to have you over for dinner tonight to say thank you. I'm sure my daddy would love to have you join us."

"We would love to," Natasha answers for you; you a little surprised actually. This was the first time Natasha seemed interested in Dolores, you kinda thought she hated her. "As long as it's no trouble."

"None at all." Dolores insisted, climbing onto her horse. "Just grab your horse and we can go now. I'll show you the rest of the ranch too."

You walk alongside Natasha to collect moonshine from outside the general store. "I can't believe you nearly got into a fight over a fucking robot."

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #dolores abernathy #Dolores abernathy x reader #evan rachel wood #westworld

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alchemist-shizun · 4 years

Text

Eventyr

Word Count: 7058

Characters: Virgil, Janus, Roman, some original background characters

Pairing(s): Anxceit, platonic prinxiety

Warning(s): self-loathing, fire, death mention, wound mention, crying

Summary: It wasn't that exasperated move they did back in the woods, but more of a caring one, like they were carrying the most precious thing in the world to them. He did feel like he was, to them, their tenderness made him believe it with one quick glance.

A/N: Just so you know, the depiction of the mythical Hamingja is partly accurate, 80% completely made up for plot point. Basically most of this has been invented. I don't know if the hamingja title is an exact translation from Norwegian so I apologize, I tried. Anywho this is a super late present for @deetheimposter 's bday because I'm v slow and this took surprisingly a huge amount of time. Hope whoever decides to read it likes it! (Janus uses neutral pronouns here)

✾

There had never been a better time.

A low translucent mist still hovered above the dark blades of grass during the passage between night and day; the towering moon was lending some of its light so that the two lone heroes could continue their journey.

« According to the directions we were given in the last village, the so called “Molten Stone” should be just ahead. » Roman indicated right in front of himself, glancing back to his journey partner, Virgil, who was a few steps behind checking for any unwanted surprises.

« How does a molten stone even look like? »

« That's the take, friend. » he offered with a grin. « Don't think with your mind. »

Virgil started to ponder what else could there possibly be that he could think with as they ventured further in the forest.

He could see the mist quickly attaching to his boots and becoming tiny droplets of condensed air.

His feet followed Roman relentlessly, yet there was other stuff in his mind: less than an hour earlier or so, he had felt like something had been off. Virgil kept looking around for proofs and, with every turn, it was as if he caught a glimpse of some kind of entity following them.

Trying to shake the feeling off, he couldn't help but hear his family's voices reprimanding him in his head.

You're just paranoid, they would say, you're being overly vigilant, loosen up your shoulders.

His body tried to relax at best, releasing the tension in every reachable muscle, until the two friends stopped in front of a large body of water.

« This is it. » Roman trustingly affirmed.

Virgil glanced at the scene and slowly nodded, pursing his lips. « Yeah. A huge lake. Cool view, where's that rock now? »

His friend chuckled. « Right here! Don't you get it? »

Roman gestured to the water, so that the other could indulge further in his own inspection.

Virgil observed the water and realized what an odd optical illusion the lake's surface made mixed with the fog and the light shining from the- what?

Why were there warm coloured lights coming from the water?

Then he saw it.

A yellow eye disappeared behind a tree on the other side of the lake; Virgil took Roman's arm without breaking eye-contact from the tree. It was their silent understood signal to maintain carefulness, looking at each other's back.

« I don't trust this place. » Virgil murmured, his eyes wider than ever. « Are you sure they gave you the right- »

« Have at you! »

Virgil turned around to see his friend with his arm extended and his sword drawn, the pointy end right under their probable adversary's chin.

They didn't look … confident. Rather, they looked absolutely terrified, maybe even panicked: they held their hands up, their body slightly drawn backwards, eyes fixed on the blade and teeth bared. There was especially a sort of aura surrounding them, glowing in the same yellow pigmentation he had seen on their eye previously.

He only offered an intimidating expression as Roman did the rest.

« State your presence. Why were you following us? »

The person sighed and shook their head. « You have my entire purpose horribly mistaken- »

« Cut to the chase. » Virgil ordered.

They shifted their look onto him, as if they had just noticed him. « Alright then, if that's what you want. » they took some steps back and opened their arms, locking eyes with the other boy.

« It's an utmost delight to finally meet you as well, Roman Kallis. They call me Janus, I am the Hamingja that has been assigned to your generation years before your birth. You have reached the proper age for me to manifest to you and accompany you through your journey. » Janus bowed theatrically and rose only to be met with Roman's aghast expression and Virgil's … well, one thing for sure, the guy didn't trust people that easily.

« I had heard about you. » Roman recalled. « My relatives used to tell a surprising amount of tales of their quests and they would always mention you. »

« That doesn't mean we can immediately trust this … » Virgil hesitated.

« Oh, I'm an angelic being. »

« … That doesn't mean we can trust this angel. » he finished, glaring at the guardian as they smirked.

Roman pushed his friend's arm slightly. « Oh shush. So! » he approached Janus with stars in his eyes. « Are you about to take me towards important victories? Lead me to some conquerings? »

They blinked and took one step back as the boy started to invade their personal space. « More like accompany you. I normally manifest in your dreams, but I can show up here as well now. Just remember: the Norns take the final choice. »

Roman nodded seriously, while his friend wasn't yet entirely convinced.

« How are we sure you're who you say you are? »

« Virgil- »

A bright light started glowing around the angel as they levitated a few inches off of the ground. As they opened, their eyes shined a similar light.

You know anyone else that can do this?

The words echoed in his head while Janus's expression didn't change, his face still and blank.

They fell back on the ground after a few seconds.

« Are you in need of any more demonstrations? »

Virgil averted their eyes and turned around, silently resuming their journey as Roman sighed and apologized on his behalf.

That was going to be fun.

✾

Roman fell to his knees as the umpteenth village fell victim to an enemy's raid.

Flames rose from every possible surface, burning both everything to its roots and Roman's eyes; he turned, his expression dull, then he nodded at the glimmering wolf by his side.

« Let's carry on. » he murmured, trying to get back on track while having constant flashbacks of the fight he'd just lost, not caring of any wound, although minor.

Janus shifted back to his anthropomorphic form, about to disappear from the human eye, when a hand grabbed their wrist and they were forced to slow down and stay out of Roman's hearing.

« Doesn't Hamingja mean happiness? » Virgil looked right ahead of himself. « Because I'm not seeing any kind of happiness ever since you came here. »

« Please keep in mind that I do not choose the course of events, I only make sure that Roman's luck functions the way it should. »

He exhaled deeply through his nose; they mentioned luck plenty of times, but he sure as hell didn't see any fortunate events happening.

« Why isn't it functioning then? »

Janus looked over to the boy. « He looks alive to me. »

Virgil stopped dead in his tracks and stared at them. « You can't be serious. »

« I work with what I have. » Janus's eyes furrowed. « I'll have you know I do not find it pleasing to have my ways questioned. » with that, they were gone, leaving Virgil fuming with rage and yet repressing it for the sake of his friend.

He did not like them. Or their ways.

Something was wrong.

✾

It was getting ridiculous.

Roman had never been the luckiest man alive, but once he had been made aware of his conditions, he had started to become more careful about his every decision, and thus his every consequence.

So he noticed all his failures ten times more than usual.

What was the purpose of a guardian if there was no way to protect him? Was he overthinking it?

Or … had he expected way too much out of Janus?

He put his face in his arms which were resting on the wooden table of his parents' kitchen. He had come back for a scheming meeting between other relatives, but he couldn't keep his mind off of the numerous defeats he had been bearing for a while.

« There needs to be a way out of it. » Virgil stepped away from the kitchen's door and turned back to Janus who was standing in front of the fireplace, nourishing the fire with a spell. « Some sort of magic? An enchantment? »

The hamingja pondered the question.

A way to deviate the Norns themselves …

« It is highly risky. » they admitted, stepping closer to the other. « But not impossible. »

« How risky? »

« Deadly. » they looked into his eyes and detected both fright and curiosity. « It's technically quick and painless- »

« I'll do it. » Janus raised an eyebrow at him. « Whatever it is, I'll do it. »

Such determination for a mere friend.

They raised a hand towards his chest and pressed against it, Virgil felt like they were trying to take something from him like they could take his soul out of thin air.

Was he about to die? The famous life for a life deal?

Then, like nothing happened, Janus stepped away.

True, he felt slightly more tired, but nowhere near the deadly zone.

Seeing his appalled look, Janus provided an explanation.

« The only way to change someone's life is to make room for more time. What I did was take away a portion of time from your life for me to modify and add onto Roman's. »

« How much did you remove? »

« One month so far. »

« Make it a year. »

Virgil's look in his eyes didn't relinquish a slight bit of doubt. He stared and waited expectantly, ready to assist his friend with his own life more than needed.

Impressive.

« If that is what you wish. »

And so on.

Times upon times, their little unspoken secret grew behind Roman's back as events needed to be changed.

As time itself ran out, they kept adding a new amount, until little to none remained and the cycle repeated again.

If Virgil was willing to give his life for someone who saved his own, Janus was more than okay to satisfy both ends and make their protege as secure as possible.

Not that he knew any of that.

✾

« May I ask you something? »

Another victorious battle had them exhausted and resting in the safest place they found in the woods: Roman's hamingja had offered to keep an eye out as they slept.

Virgil nodded to them as they got further away from the royal.

« Why do you give your life away so easily? » Janus studied him with deep interest as it was the only thing he didn't understand about him.

Only a couple of months had passed since their appearance, yet that guy still filled a big question mark in their mind.

« Well, I wouldn't have one if it weren't for him. » Virgil leaned back against a tree as the memories surfaced. « He just so happened to be around when my village caught fire during a raid and he saved my entire family. »

« This happened some years ago, I remember I told him I would've done anything since I owed him and he simply took out his sword and named me his fellow knight. »

Ever since then, they would have gone on journeys together, becoming the inseparable battling duo they were to that day, despite the many lost fights and the very little body count.

« So yeah, all those years you took off of my life to help him, I do owe him those, thus I don't mind dying prematurely. »

« Those what? »

The two turned around abruptly and found the subject of their conversation right behind them, one thing only to be read on his face: dolence.

Roman scoffed. « I should've realized. Everything was going just too good. » he looked down and murmured. « Too good to be true. »

« Ro- »

« I can't believe both of you kept it from me. » he brushed his face with his hands as the others stayed silent. « You know what? If you really like to do things by yourselves, then so be it. »

He picked up his gear from the ground as Virgil approached him and reached out to him. « Roman, please. »

He turned around and backed away. « Don't you value your life?! Have you ever thought about how I'd feel about this? Can't I get a say in what happens to me? »

Virgil withdrew as well, too ashamed to add anything else.

« This isn't how I wanted to be guarded. » he added, he then stepped closer to Janus. « I hereby pass you up onto Virgil from now on. »

« Excuse me? »

« That's a thing that can be done, right? Like that time my uncle passed it onto my mum. »

Janus stammered in their thoughts. « Y-yes it can be done. »

Roman nodded before whispering a “then do it” and turning his back on both of them.

« I don't want you anymore. »

Without sparing them a last single glance, he ventured back into the opposite direction and disappeared like they had never met before.

Janus and Virgil shared a look, their entire purpose broken into little shards of failure.

« Just, » the latter pinched the bridge of his nose. « Do your thing. Vanish into thin air, whatever it is. I don't want to deal with you right now. »

Janus simply glared at him and started ascending, their eyes glowing a yellow light.

« Don't act like it's entirely my fault. » they said and then, in a second, they were gone.

And Virgil had never felt more alone.

✾

He came to realize he was actually glad about loneliness.

Nothingness was the perfect place to hide from the significance of anything around you, the importance of whatever grieved your shoulders.

It blended into the quiet gratitude of acknowledging you can rest after a week-long journey in the loudest place on earth.

There was a single downside to that kind of attitude: averting.

Sure, the night sky told you all you needed was sleep and your issues would vanish in a tomorrow thought.

And so the cycle repeated until you ignored parts of yourself.

Virgil had been lost in the empty reality for as long as he’d started travelling alone. He knew it was getting unbearable for his stress, so much that it plagued his surroundings and his dreams as well.

It was during one of these that Janus decided to show up and set things right for once.

Not that it went exactly how he imagined it.

He had been able to trap Virgil inside a repetitive path of the all so familiar woods and, as he tried to wake up, he noticed he couldn’t. That’s when the snake that had been following him all that time shape-shifted into the hamingja.

« Are we going to talk about it anytime soon, or do I have to lurk in the shadows? »

It was already too much.

All Virgil could see was the pained expression on Roman’s face every time he looked at Janus, he was reminded of all his errors.

He couldn’t stand it. He hated it. He hated them.

Probably even himself.

« It would be far better if you just left. »

« Left? » Janus took a step forward, their eyes squinting. « You think I can simply disappear out of your life? »

« You seem to have been doing that pretty easily lately. »

« I have only tried to lessen your pain, » they followed as Virgil walked past them, into the unknown of that dream’s reality. « Yet you don’t let yourself be healed and keep bearing a grudge. »

Virgil halted and scoffed. « Bearing grudges? » he said « To me it’s always looked like, ever since you stated your presence, everything has been going horribly. Would you blame me for a grudge? »

As he turned away, he didn’t notice Janus not following or clenching their fists.

They just wanted to do something good for once. Why did that always happen?

« If you so much wish and intend on hating me, » the scenery changed, the two were now by the edge of a cliff. They reached Virgil and grabbed a handful of his clothes. « Then do it silently. » Janus pushed him off and the last thing Virgil saw of the dream was the hamingja staring down at him.

He woke up with a yelp and had the same scene in front of his eyes, only that it wasn’t a dream anymore, there, in the woods.

« Because, much to your chagrin, I’ll always be with you. »

Janus turned, walking away from his interlocutor.

Sure, run off like you always do.

Virgil heaved himself up with his elbows. « Like I ever even needed you. » He picked up his bag and let the sword rest at his side. « You came here, watched my friend be miserable, » he abruptly cut some bushes standing in his way. « Fucked up my life. » Another clean cut on plants around him. « But I should stay quiet. » He raised his voice. « I don’t need you! »

Virgil started marching toward an unknown destination, just like in the dream.

« I don’t need anyone. »

✾

It had been a fairly uneventful week.

Virgil woke up, provided himself food, and carried on with his journey home, where he hoped he could’ve started anew, back to his family.

The truth was, he had no idea where he was going, he could’ve been walking in circles and he wouldn’t have known at all. He wanted to seek shelter in the nearest village, yet in a week there had only been the infinite forest.

Virgil kept walking, marking his surroundings so he could recognize them, were he to cross paths with them again.

There was a small clearing, where he felt drawn to the light of the day, it was almost a perfect circle on the ground drawn by the sun, a perfect place to lay down during that rather cold day.

Why not? It was so inviting.

There were mushrooms all around. Kind of like it had been there for some kind of purpose.

Virgil tilted his head to the sound of chirping birds. He was in the middle of taking a step forward when he felt a hand yanking him backwards from his cloak.

As he fell down, the image of Janus’s eyes piercing through him was displayed before him yet again.

Are you serious?

« What is your deal?! »

« Get up. » He looked as they had the audacity to simply walk away without another word.

Virgil was already fuming. « Would you mind providing an explanation to your sudden visit? » He asked, clearly annoyed, after catching up with them.

Janus stopped and turned with a smug look. « You said you don’t need me. You were about to get killed. »

« Killed? »

« That you were about to step into was a fae circle. Once in, you’re doomed. Never dare to do so. »

What a stupid move, how could he not remember? He had always been extra vigilant about this sort of thing.

Janus saved him?

« Don’t think too much of it. » It was as if they had read his mind. « I’m looking out for you to fulfill what Roman asked me to do. »

This time, the hamingja had decided to stay.

Their journey together had been silent. Way too silent not to seem impossibly awkward at first.

Virgil couldn't just stop replaying what had happened in his head, how Janus had been right there to stop him from certain death, how they had probably been watching him the whole time.

If that had been the case, why didn't they point him towards a useful direction?

Hours passed and they were already leaving the sunset behind themselves, not stopping until they had found the perfect spot to rest for the night; weren't it for humans' weakness, Janus would've travelled for the entirety of the night.

Virgil was still wondering why they hadn't left him to die yet. They could've gone back to Roman, after pretending his death had been wanted by destiny.

« Why are you so keen on guiding me if you detest me as well? » he was sitting against a tree, like any other time he stopped for the night.

« You really don't get it, do you? » Janus sat down in front of him. « I have to follow what the Norns have in store for you. If they did not intend on you dying so soon, I have to protect you. I'm bound. Or else, I'll go against them. »

« What happens if you do? »

Janus had their eyes fixed on the ground, frowning like an unpleasant memory had resurfaced in their mind.

« I get thrown in the Ginnungagap for daring. »

So they were stuck together, huh?

« Don't worry, I'll pass you up onto someone else as soon as I find a village an- »

« You want to get rid of me so badly, don't you? » Janus shook their head, exasperated. During his time alone, Virgil hadn't changed an ounce.

The boy tried to reply, rephrase at best, thinking those were Janus's actual feelings, but he was cut off rather quickly. « You want me out? I'll leave you out. »

Virgil caught himself asking them to wait, not exactly sure as to why he was.

Just as they left, the fire they had made had been put out, any light flicker ceased. Everything that felt nice left him in the complete void, alone and miserable.

« Okay. » Virgil quietly got to his feet trying to adjust his vision to the dark he so much hated. « Okay, I'm sorry. » he rapidly looked behind his shoulders as he heard the creaking of leaves way too close.

Fright and anxiety pervaded him: he disliked the dark, he hated it. Void was part of the quiet and peaceful nothingness, but it was no refuge for him, rather one of monsters that his mind created. He wanted out.

A glimmering of hopefulness.

« Janus? » he called, eyes darting in every direction. « It's not funny, please. » he retreated back to the tree trunk, arms folder close to his chest forming some sort of shield.

And so hope came.

He was lifted off his feet, suddenly mid air and watching down as an unidentified creature jumped out of the bushes in an attempt to catch a new prey.

When he looked up, still wide-eyed, he was met with the hamingja's face again, who was holding him close and away from certain death. Again.

« The truth is, Virgil, » it was only then that he noticed how his glowing spirited eyes actually sparkled up close. « You're going to get yourself killed if you stay out here alone. »

Virgil pondered their words for a short minute as they descended and he was finally put down. « What if you told me of all the possible dangers then? I won't bother you. »

How stubborn could one be?

Janus put their hands on their face. « Stop making this only about you. I'm here and we need to work together. »

That … actually was a good point.

« I just … don't want to be perceived as an inconvenience. » they confessed; Virgil had no idea where that opening up to him came from, but he decided to accept it nonetheless.

« I guess I'm going to make an effort. »

They nodded, prompting that the conversation was over so he could go back to sleep.

« It's not that I hate you. » Virgil murmured, his eyes already closed. « I only didn't want to forcibly take away something from Roman along with our friendship. »

Janus stared at him only to go back to stand guard a few feet away.

« Sleep. » they repeated, voice softer. « You're going home tomorrow. »

✾

« Could you stop walking so fast? »

« When you stop being too slow to catch up. »

« Excuse you I am not the eldritch being that learnt the paths by heart. »

Janus stopped walking at once, making their journey companion crash onto them, trip and fall backwards.

Virgil held his face which had hit the other's back. « What the Hel was that for? »

Janus chuckled and kept walking. « Stop complaining. »

I'm going to murder them.

Very regretfully, Virgil got back to his feet and made the other roll their eyes at his heavy mad stomping on the grass.

They could see an opening not too far away from them. Just a few more meters and …

A vast grey-ish blackness stood before them, any solid shape remaining from the boy's village was crumbling down to ashes, white and black and grey again, flying around and falling at Virgil's feet, almost accusatory.

Why weren't you here?

His legs felt heavy as lead, dragging themselves forward in hopes to find what he had lost without return. He was standing in the middle of the burnt down village, of what was left of his only home, the place he knew he belonged, the family he left without protection.

Janus waited, not wanting to interfere with his emotions but still feeling a sharp heart-clench with every move Virgil made in the middle of that decaying necrosis.

They strongly intook breath as Virgil sat down facing them, their eyes locked only that his were dull.

« I'm home. » he said on the brink of tears, aware that his voice was about to get crushed by the weight of his silent crying.

He hid his face between his arms, slightly shaking. Why did he not prevent that? Why wasn't he noticed? He had just been wandering around with his nonsensical issues while his family had been defending their village from an attack, probably dying by it.

He didn't want to think about the worst scenario yet.

As Virgil sorted out how to cope with the sky falling on top of his head, Janus went to do a quick scan of the area: no bones, no charred corpses, a good omen of everyone fleeing before it was too late.

They slowly approached Virgil, making their presence clear before sitting down by him. They rose their arm, their hand almost touching his shoulder, then decided against it.

The real issue was finding the right words. Even when so many disgraces had happened already throughout Janus's experience as a hamingja, it was always hard to console their protege at best.

« They're alive. » they announced, unsure of what else to properly add. « I … I could take you to the nearest village to figure this out. »

That took a reaction out of Virgil, who lifted his head enough to look at them, still hurt.

« Whenever you're ready. » they reassured, letting silence fall between them.

« Just give me a minute. » Virgil murmured.

Janus nodded, expecting him to sit there, simply waiting.

Instead, Virgil leaned on them, a silent ask for support, and they couldn't help but give it, slowly raising and arm to encircle him in a half-hug.

« Give me a minute … »

✾

With the second week of travelling coming to a conclusion, Virgil's doubts started to rise.

« Are you sure this is the nearest village? »

On his side, Janus brought their hands together, in theatrical dismay. « Oh, Norns, I'm busted. My secret evil plan has been uncovered! »

He could kind of see why he had been paired with Roman's dynasty.

« Janus. Where are you taking me? »

They sighed in annoyance. « Can't stand surprises? »

« Not after the last one. »

And there it was, the grim aura laid back on their heads.

« We're going to an elven town I know. I deviated our actual course a little. » there was a beat of silence. « I know they're very friendly with strangers there and we could also take a small break and rest. After everything that happened. »

Virgil didn't have any complaint to make against that.

« Then, by all means, lead the way. »

Not even five minutes had passed, that Janus increased their pacing and started dragging Virgil by the arm, pointing towards an arch out of the woods.

« Look! »

The banner read “Faarion” and the town looked on with nature, while still being nicely urbanized.

A swarm of little elf kids immediately greeted them. « Mx. Janus! You brought a new human? » their attention was averted to Virgil, all curious wide eyes and expectant faces.

« Uh- »

« Yes, we're possibly going to stay a few days. Now, care to show him around while I go announce ourselves to Aerith? »

They unanimously nodded and brought Virgil along with them, introducing themselves as they took him places.

Virgil looked back at him with a single murderous glance that said “I'll get back at you”, while the hamingja smirked and waved goodbye.

It didn't take long to find the town hall.

« Glad to have you back, Janus. » a smiling long-haired elf had been checking out documents at her office table. « Taking your hero here already? »

They had been remembered for how they would bring their hero to the elven town when they knew the soul was about to head to either Hel or Valhalla.

« Lovely to see you Aerith. » they unceremoniously dropped on the opposite seat. « It's actually kind of complicated this time. »

She raised her head from the documents and looked in their yellow eyes with desire to know more. « An intriguing tale. Do tell, dear. »

Janus tried their best to summarize the last few months: they mentioned Roman, the mess they made along with Virgil, how Roman passed them onto him and left without any way to trace him back again.

And then the whole contrast with Virgil, how they couldn't get through to him.

« We got to his old village, but all we found were ashen ruins and burnt down houses. That's why I decided to take him here. »

« A wise choice, indeed. » she agreed, solemnly. « Although I must say, it doesn't sound like he dislikes you anymore, does it? » Janus tilted their head. « To me, it's more of a fear of losing you as well, thus he pushed you away before he could develop something. I'd say he found himself too late. »

They didn't quite comprehended what she meant by developing anything, but they had noticed Virgil had been less hostile, if not in a teasing way, during the past few weeks.

« I suppose so. » they muttered as their thoughts drifted away. « I only … I wish to not make a mess, now that I have the opportunity to do something good. »

« You mean … »

« Yes. » they cut her off. « He's my first hope so far in millennia and I want to take the chance. »

Aerith gifted them a fond smile. « Have you told him? »

« Not yet. » they shook their head. « But I plan to, here. »

She remembered there was a place reserved to them, they used to take their souls there and explain the tragic destiny they were bound to and its reason why.

All in all, it was always Janus's fault.

Aerith gave them a small group of keys. « Go then, dear. Get settled for the night. »

✾

It was nearly completely dark outside when Janus got back to the town centre, only to find it fully decorated for the Rising Moon Festival they had forgot about.

« Mx. Janus! » one of that morning's kids took them by the hand and pulled them on the dance floor, simply swirly around.

« Hey Andiron. » they greeted. « Have you done your duty? »

« Yes! Virgil is a great listener! »

« Say, where is he? »

Andiron pointed to a spot in the back of the main plaza, where Virgil was hanging around by himself as everybody else had their celebration.

He did notice Janus reaching him.

« You survived. »

« I didn't know you lived here. »

They shrugged: it was typical of the kids to take everyone to the outside of their home. « Do you want me to show you around? We'll be staying here for a while. »

Janus sensed Virgil's discomfort with big crowds of people he didn't know; the boy acquiesced and together they keft the plaza and approached Janus's former habitation.

« Welcome to my humble refuge. » Janus bowed dramatically, which got a snort out of the human.

« You call this humble? I don't know why you would leave this. »

« Well, my parents used to live here, really. I'd be travelling around just like you. » they stepped toward the stairs.

« They … don't live here anymore? » Virgil tried, unsure of where eh was stepping with the conversation.

« They don't exactly live anymore. » they said, reaching the second floor and looking back at his companion. « It's not that bad, they're in Valhalla now. I could visit them if I wanted. »

He noticed the odd phrasing. « Do you want to? »

Janus breathed slowly, leading him to another room: it used to be their bedroom as a child, but what really enthused them was the terrace's view on the vast forest.

« I do. Kind of. But I know they'll ask me of my duties as guardian and … »

« You'd rather not? » Virgil followed them on the balcony and rested his arms on the railing.

Janus nodded. « This is why I should apologize. »

« To them? »

« No. To you. »

Virgil blinked repeatedly before turning his head to the hamingja, his eyes narrowed in confusion. « I thought we kind of settled it. »

« I don't mean our initial contrast. » they averted his eyes, rather looking down at the street lights adorning the darkness of the town. « My name isn't really Janus. I have a hamingja title that covers up what type of guardian I am and what type of destiny my humans are usually tied to. »

« My title is Sørgesang. »

They waited for Virgil to get it, they could almost hear the gears turning in his head. « Sad song? »

« Funeral chant. » they sighed deeply. « The meaning was explained pretty early, after the first few heroes that died horribly with me leading them towards inevitable death. » their body stiffened. « I … I'm apologizing because I ruined Roman's life simply by being destined to his dynasty, I'm like a curse among other hamingjas. We're usually protectors of good luck. I … don't know what went wrong with me. » they were gripping tight at the railing.

Virgil felt the urge to take their hands away, but decided against it a moment later. Maybe it's too anti-climatic?

« Didn't you tell me back then it's the Norns' work you're following? »

« Yes, but by assigning me to a family, my luck will affect the destiny they'll have once alive. » Janus started fidgeting, believing that, now that he knew he would keep trying to pass them onto someone else the quickest he could.

« So what you're trying to say is you're apologizing for your existence? »

That was the last thing they expected; they tried to retort something, but no argument felt good enough against his.

« Because that's what it sounds like. »

« I- Maybe I am, but what I really want to get to, is that I had never been lent or passed onto anyone else before. » they put their hands on his shoulders. « Virgil, you were never predestined to end up with me. This means my luck does not affect you and is not tied to your future. You're my only hope to prove I can lead someone to success. » they took his hands in theirs, trying to underline whatever they were getting at. « Just give me the opportunity. »

The moonlight illuminated the faint blush across Virgil's cheeks. « I … I will, okay. I'm sorry I misjudged you so easily at first. I hardly trust anyone. »

« That is a good quality. » Janus slowly let their hands fall at their side again, turning to look at the landscape.

I wouldn't trust myself either.

« Are those the woods we came from? » Virgil pointed towards the mass of trees that seemed to engulf the town.

They were about to respond, when instead Janus jumped off of the balcony and floated in the air in front of him, glowing like a firefly.

« Want to see for yourself? »

Virgil took the hand they offered, uncertain, and he got easily pulled up in the seemingly void. « Is this safe? » he asked, staring wide-eyed at the ground a huge amount of feet under them. « This is safe, right? » he gripped the other a bit tighter than needed.

Janus genuinely laughed as they flew to the roof of their home, placing them both on the gutters. The boy didn't stop hanging on their arm.

« If you look around yourself, you can see they're actually all around town. The one you're seeing now is the opposite direction from where we were going. »

« Mhm, definitely interesting. »

« Virgil, you're not going to die. »

« Says the one with flying powers. »

Janus got up and lifted the other by his arms. « You're not going to fall. »

« Yes I am. » Virgil blurted out, eyes darting between his only handhold and the garden they were above. Very much above.

« Don't look down. » Virgil was squeezing their hands like they could drop him any second. He obliged and was met with a soft smile. « There. You've got nothing to fear. »

Rather than dwelling on his concerns, Virgil was now lost in their expression and words, like he had been living in the dark and a new door had been opened up to him.

He took a deep breath and everything was lighter.

Perhaps because he had left all of his burdens on that roof for a while, or maybe because Janus had lifted them in the air again and they were holding him close, so they were sure he wouldn't fall.

It wasn't that exasperated move they did back in the woods, but more of a caring one, like they were carrying the most precious thing in the world to them.

He did feel like he was, to them, their tenderness made him believe it with one quick glance.

Before he knew it, his feet touched the grass, but one of his hands didn't leave the hamingja's as they walked.

« Let's get back to the festival. »

✾

Virgil came to realize elf kids were actually the epitome of smartness, the type of cunning intelligent perfect to architect schemes.

On the other hand, Janus had already understood their intention, yet they let them do their thing, knowing it all came in their favour eventually.

A couple of kids had taken both of them to dance until the two inevitably ended up moving around the plaza together.

« What's on your mind? » Janus noticed how Virgil had been unusually quiet by the moment they clasped their hands together and started swirling around; not once their eyes had met as Virgil preferred to look down at his feet.

He muttered a simple “don't know”.

Janus leaned over him, whispering right in his ear. « Don't look down. »

Virgil tried to bite away his own smile, failing horribly: how could he not in such a situation?

Their foreheads met and he breathed in. « I was wondering … is this okay? » he tightened the grip on their hands as they kept dancing. « Is this alright? »

Could we be together?

They pulled him as close as their dancing let them, careful not to bother the others present. « Do me a favour, Virgil, close your eyes. »

As soon as he obliged, he felt a hand on his cheek, while the world seemed to slow down. He wasn't paying attention to where he was stepping anymore.

Virgil instinctively leaned onto the touch, letting the other lead him until he felt soft lips against his, stealing a short kiss he wished to melt into.

« Do you feel like it is alright? »

When he opened his eyes again and saw Janus's longing gaze, he was sure of one thing.

« More than ever. »

✾

And it was going to be alright.

Months from then, they would've reconciled with Roman, who had now joined the crown's many expeditions and accepted his eventual terrible end, ready to face it after living everyday like it was the last.

At last, Aerith convinced them to stay and got their own little life in Faarion, where Virgil took up magic thanks to the alf seidr and Janus lending him some years of their immortal life.

And so they became the legend of the everlasting couple; some say, if you know where to look, you could still find them dancing in the dark of the night, singing to the stars and thanking the moon for bringing them together.

Everything was far more than alright.

#anxceit #janus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #platonic prinxiety #sanders sides #fanfiction #ts fic

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bare1ythere · 4 years

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Tape Recorders and the Broken Camera - A Theory

This came to me yesterday and I then spent ~2 hours writing this out. It’s Incredibly self indulgent and probably a bit ramble-y but sometimes you need to let yourself say and much as you want about your hyperfixation.. as a treat.

Word count is 1.5k, let me know what you think!!

TLDR: The Tape Recorders were able to manifest within Upton House as both they and the broken camera are artifacts of the Extinction. (Reasoning under the cut!)

As a start, I think it’s important to think about how Smirke’s 14 as a categorization system is more or less useless, but only about as useless as the categorization of things in real life. As much as a lot of folks’d like it to be (me included), nothing is really clearcut. In the context of TMA, consider the fear that your life, or life in general, is insignificant. Would this belong to The Vast (Insignificance and being small in the grand scheme of things) or The End (The inevitable end of your life, and the end of your impact in the universe)? Both? I think the answer to that depends on who you ask, honestly. Not only that, but there’s plenty of statements that don’t have a clear entity attached to them. Binary, Thrown Away, and Confession are a few examples of these.

The truth is that Smirke’s list of 14 isn’t as clear cut as we’d like to think. Trying to put things into clear cut boxes is something humans have been doing for forever, and Robert Smirke’s attempts at understanding The Fears are no different. The Fears are really just one amorphous thing, a spectrum (“colours except if colours hated [us]” (MAG111)) that doesn’t really fit any one definition without exceptions.

I think remembering this is important when thinking about how Jon, Martin, and co are going to try to reverse The Change. Using the Web or the Eye or some other plot-important power to reverse the apocalypse doesn’t seem likely to me since these fears don’t Really exist, and are just the names we call aspects of the one amorphous Entity that feeds on fear.

(“the Fears[…] can never be truly separated from each other. When does the fear of sudden violence transition into the fear of hunted prey? When does the mask of the Stranger become the deception of the Spiral?” (MAG160))

This is also relevant now considering how the tape recorders were still able to manifest in Salesa’s oasis, outside of the influence of both the Eye AND the Web.

So how was this possible? For the entire podcast it seemed that Jon’s tape recorders were Eye aligned. I mean, they’re an Eye avatar’s tape recorders for a reason. However, they aren’t a staple of an Archivist’s abilities; there were archivists before tape recorders existed (MAG53), and notably, Gertrude never used them when reading statements for herself (MAG111):

ARCHIVIST: Did [Gertrude] read statements?

GERARD: Sometimes. If she was getting shaky. They perked her up, I think. Feeding the Eye, you know? I’d sometimes hear her through the wall, just reading into the air, feeling it all.

ARCHIVIST: She… she didn’t use a tape recorder?

GERARD: Not when I was with her. She travelled light. Left things behind.

That means the tape recorders are unique to Jon rather than The Archivist as a role.

I’ve seen a lot of theories about the tape recorders being manifestations of the Web instead, but despite how cool these are, I don’t think thats true. For one, how do randomly-manifesting tape recorders listening in on what is happening to you feed the fear of being manipulated or losing control? The recorders themselves are passive; they almost never impact the actions of the characters themselves. In fact, most of the time they’re completely ignored - especially in S5. Though it’s true that Web-touched artifacts like Jon’s lighter often get swept past and left unconsidered to benefit the Web’s plan, that isn’t really what’s happening here. They’re very aware that these tape recorders aren’t normal (MAG161):

MARTIN: Hey – Hey, when did you start recording?

ARCHIVIST: (confusion) I – didn’t. I only brought one, and I’ve been using it to play the tapes.

MARTIN: Oh. (sigh) That’s not a great sign.

ARCHIVIST: No. No, it’s not.

And again in MAG181:

SALESA: Now tell me, do you know why there’s a tape recorder here? I noticed it just now, but I don’t believe I actually own one.

ARCHIVIST: Uh… Not really.

MARTIN: They sort of just… follow us round.

This doesn’t really sound like something that would fit the Web. You could argue that the recorders are the Web’s way of getting information on what’s going on with Jon and Martin, but they already use spiders for that. Also, the recorders were still able to manifest within Upton House (!!!) where supposedly no power could get through. But it’s not like there’s some Other eldritch entity unrelated to the Fears that the recorders could be related to, so how was the recorder able to manifest?

I think it has to do with how Salesa’s broken camera is related to the Fears. It was unclear which fear it was aligned to in this episode, only that it feeds on “the quiet worries that come from living in hiding” (MAG181). That’s why I started this whole thing talking about Smirke’s list. I don’t really know which of the fears that would apply to. Honestly, of the main 14, it could apply to a combination: The Dark (fear of not knowing what’s out there beyond your sanctuary), the Lonely (fear of hiding alone for the rest of your life), and the End (Fear of the inevitable collapse of your safe haven and your death.) I really don’t think it could be any one of these fears alone, only a combination could explain the camera’s existence.

The weird thing, though, is that we’ve never really seen an artifact this complicated before. Most artifacts had a pretty basic, non-nuanced relationship to the fears. Never as vague as this camera.

Unless!

THE BROKEN CAMERA IS AN ARTIFACT OF THE EXTINCTION!

If you think about it, all of the aspects I mentioned above for the fear of being in hiding can be connected to the extinction.

The Dark: The Fear of not knowing what’s out there beyond your sanctuary The Extinction: The fear of what’s beyond your safe haven, what’s changed without you being there

The Lonely: The Fear of hiding alone for the rest of your life The Extinction: The fear of being the last person alive, forced to reckon with the changed world/whatever you’re hiding from alone

The End: The Fear of the inevitable collapse of your safe haven and your death The Extinction: The fear of being the last of what’s left of humanity, with the end of your life being the end of all of us

Not only that, but the camera itself is a manmade device (with the extinction having heavy technological themes). It’s also prime real estate to feed on the fears of those with bunkers/doomsday preppers, and Salesa’s acquisition of it was DIRECTLY related to wanting to survive a potential apocalypse. Even if it weren’t inherently extinction related from the beginning, its current use means that the fear it’s absorbing IS extinction related, whether or not that was the reason for its original manifestation.

So with the broken camera being an artifact related to the extinction, what does that mean for the tape recorders?

What if the reason the tape recorders can manifest within the Upton House is because they share an entity with the camera? And they can exacerbate the fear of being in hiding without removing the hiding aspect that makes it work? (after all, the tape recorders did first manifest again after the change when Jon and Martin were in hiding at the safehouse.)

Same with the creature of the Crawling Rot that paid Salesa a visit, the tape recorders can serve to remind the user of the camera that their bunker is not impenetrable. The reason it’s different from the corruption creature is that the tape recorder was Able to manifest within Upton House rather than just wander in. If it’s not related to feeding the same fear as the camera, why would the camera let it in at a risk of ruining its purpose?

The tape recorders’ connection with the broken camera seems to point to them being extinction-aligned, but they also serve as a form of record of How the World Changed and What is Left Without Us. This concept was a huge aspect of S5’s extinction statement (MAG175) as well.

This raises a lot of questions about why the tape recorders manifest for Jon specifically. Is he an extinction-aligned eye avatar? Are they not Really his, but manifest around him as they recognize his importance in the story of the apocalypse (which would make sense, since tapes have manifested for Just martin throughout S4 and S5)? What does this mean for the extinction and how the Change can be reversed? I’m not really sure to be honest!! I guess we’ll have to wait and see.

Starting at the beginning of S5, though, I thought that the podcast had to end with Jon’s death, as the tape recorders, a part of Jon, are the way we hear what actually happens in the podcast. I don’t think that’s necessarily the case anymore. The recorders, as manifestations of the extinction, wanted to drink in the fear of an incoming/ongoing disaster. It’s extremely likely they wouldn’t care to hear the relief of a saved world.

#the magnus archives #tmaspoilers #mag181 #tma #magpod #tma meta #shut up me #This is the most self indulgent thing ive ever written #I almost didnt post it bc i mainly wrote it out for myself but I thought i might as well #This idea might also be something ive reblogged in the past but its also just fun to look through the transcripts #for proof relating to the theories you like c:#MAG181: *is a relatively chill episode*#Me disentangling myself from loads of red string: WHAT

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