#almost didn't publish i hate my computer so much
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Grief (A Friend Indeed) Part 9
Hello, everyone! We are almost to the end. I have all twelve parts completed and will be posting them every Thursday until the story is fully published.
So what's next? With Royal Pain being done as well, I'm going to try and finish Well Met By Moonlight and Find Your Shade By the Moonlight. I will be back working on the soulmate AU Batshit Soulmate and the next book in the Boy with a Bat series called Never Hold Back Your Step for a Moment. I'm also starting that omegaverse story I thought up here.
We meet Steve's family and find out more about why Steve's parents didn't like that side of the family much.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8
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Eddie and Steve wandered around town for a couple of hours, doing a little sightseeing, a little shopping, and a lot just being themselves for a moment or two.
Soon it was getting close to time and they headed to the diner. They pulled up and got a booth.
Eddie and Steve slid into one side and told the waitress that they were waiting for someone and to just grab them a couple of waters.
The waitress nodded and quickly came back with the waters.
They didn’t have to wait long before Percy came through the door, the little bell announcing his arrival.
Steve waved him over and he smiled in return, hurrying over to the table. Once he was settled he told the waitress they were waiting on one more but if they could get a pot of coffee and two cups please. Eddie and Steve both got sodas.
“Who are we waiting for?” Steve asked nervously.
Percy twisted the ring on his ring hand, looking down at the table. “A friend.”
Eddie and Steve shared a glance, wide-eyed.
Eddie wrote something down on a paper napkin and slid it over to Percy.
Percy took the napkin with frown and then he gasped. “Both of you?”
“Both for me,” Steve murmured.
“Just men for me,” Eddie added.
Percy glanced around the diner nervously, but no one was paying any attention to them at all.
“Oh.” He let out a shuddering breath. “Just him.” He pointed to someone walking up to the diner through the window.
He was a tall man, thin. Long black hair, braided to the small of his back. He wore a suit just as nice as Max’s in a beautiful silver color.
He came over when Percy waved at him. He slid next to Percy and looked Steve and Eddie over.
“Who are these boys, Percy?” he asked gravely.
“This my nephew, Steven and his friend...” Percy began.
Eddie stuck out his hand. “Eddie. Eddie Munson. We’re actually in Kentucky because of my own grandma’s funeral. Steve wanted to come visit his grandma’s grave so we took a drive.”
“Where you from?” Percy asked. “I catch a bit of twang to your voice.”
Eddie grinned. “Indiana mostly, but my family’s from Ashland.”
Percy smiled. “Nice town.”
Steve smiled. “It has been so far.”
“This is David Estevez,” Percy said, shyly. “The reason you’re parents haven’t spoken to me in over a decade.”
“Ah,” Steve said. “Yup, Clint Harrington is a lot of things, but tolerant isn’t one of them and of course my mom just went along with it. Even though it’s her money and her family.”
Eddie clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. “Let’s see, not white, not from here, judging from the accent, and not straight... anything I missed?”
David burst out laughing. “Not the right kind of rich. I’m a self-made man. I worked hard to be where I am today and they hate that. I grew up poor in New Mexico and made my money building computers in my mom’s basement. Now, I’m a multi-millionaire CEO of a major tech company.”
“Dustin would love you,” Steve and Eddie said together.
“Who?” David asked with a chuckle.
“He’s this kid we know,” Eddie explained. “He built a CB tower just so he could talk to his girlfriend in Utah and not rack up his mom’s phone bill.”
“He sounds like fun,” Percy said, rolling his eyes.
David dug his fingers into Percy’s side, causing him to squirm and squeak. “As if you wouldn’t love it if I did that for you.”
Percy blushed. “Maybe.”
He cleared his throat. “How are your parents, Steven? I saw on the news that there was a horrible earthquake last March.”
Steve gulped and Eddie gave his hand a squeeze.
“I really wouldn’t know,” he mumbled, looking down at the table, tucking his hands between legs. “I haven’t seen them in a while.”
David and Percy shared a glance.
“They did come back after the earthquake, right?” Percy pressed. “To see if you were all right if nothing else.”
Steve shook his head. “They didn’t come home when I was caught in the mall fire, why would they come home for something as inconsequential as an earthquake?”
“Mall fire?” Percy asked.
“You remember, darling,” David said, “the one from last year where there were thirty people who died?”
Percy expression cleared as understanding dawned, and then it turned horrified. “They didn’t come home for that?”
Steve shook his head again. “They didn’t come home when I got a concussion so bad I was out for several hours, or anytime I got hurt.” He rubbed a scratch that was in the surface of the table mournfully.
“Mom follows Dad around to make sure he keeps it in his pants. Not that it deters him,” he explained. “I heard him bragging once about how it’s a game to him now to see what he can get away with.”
The waitress appeared with their drinks. “Are you guys ready to order?”
“I’m not hungry,” Steve murmured.
The rest of them ordered, with Eddie ordering a side of cheese fries in addition to his regular side of fries.
Once the waitress had gone, Percy leaned forward. “How long has this been going on?”
“The trips started when I fourteen or so,” he continued. “But the older I got, the longer the trips were, until they just stopped coming home sometime around Christmas of last year.”
“Stevie...” Eddie whined. “Why didn’t you say something?”
Steve shrugged. “I’m an adult. It’s not as though I’m a kid anymore.”
Percy took his hand in his. “No, Steven. That’s not how parenting works. Ever. They’re supposed to care about you enough to at least tell you were they’re going and when they’ll be home.”
Steve looked up and into his uncle’s eyes. “The money changed them. They haven’t been my parents in over a decade. I’ve just been this trophy they pulled out whenever it suited them. Had to be first in everything. I’m surprised they only let me get away three sports instead of making me try everything.”
Eddie looked stricken. “The sports weren’t your idea?”
Steve shook his head. “It was a way that they could legally pawn me off to other adults. Probably the reason for all the piano lessons and the tutoring. How I met Nancy by the way. Gotta have the best grades, until someone puts a plate through my head, then I was just as disappointing as they feared I would be.”
Everyone else at the table let out noises of distress.
“You never should have had to go through that,” David whispered fiercely. “Ever. I’m sorry your parents were awful.”
Steve shrugged. “It wasn’t all bad. I have had adults in my life that cared about me. The Chief of Police always kept an eye on me. Dad stopped hitting me after the second time Hop, Chief Hopper, I mean brought me home after...” he trailed off and looked anywhere but at the people in the booth with him.
He cleared his throat.
Their food arrived and that last sentence was left to dangling in the air like the sword of Damocles over their heads.
Percy watched as Eddie pushed the side of cheese fries between him and Steve, taking a bite periodically, but mostly focusing on the rest of his food.
Steve reached out and took one of the fries, chewing mindlessly. And then another and then another.
David smirked when Percy indicated to what Steve was doing.
Eddie pushed them in front of Steve and he just dug into them like a starving man. He took half of his burger and handed it to Steve, too.
Steve took the half with a blush. “Thanks, Eds,” he said softly.
Eddie just smiled fondly and finished his half of the burger.
David started talking to Percy to help fill the silence and soon the sense of dread dissipated as they fell into easy conversation.
Soon they were done and their plates taken away.
David lifted his chin to indicate to Steve. “Where did you learn that if you got cheese fries Steve would eat?”
Eddie and Steve glanced at each other and Steve blushed.
“Is that what he did?” he muttered.
Eddie laughed. “It’s trick I learned from his best friend. When he’s upset he won’t eat, even when he needs to, but if you put something like cheese fries or onion rings near him, he’ll graze until it kick starts his appetite again.”
Steve looked over at him in shock. “Holy shit, I never realized. Who else does that?”
Eddie smiled at him, that closed mouth, fond smile that he was got around Steve. “Dustin and Max mostly. But El and Will have been known to do it once or twice.”
Steve blinked.
“Sounds like you’ve got a lot of people that care about you, Steven,” Percy said with a grin.
Steve nodded, blushing. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
He looked at his watch and sighed. “How’s this,” he said, “why don’t you use that business card I gave you when you get home and David and me will come out to visit you for a few days?”
Steve lit up. “Yeah? You’d do that?”
Eddie grinned. Steve had just gotten his boyhood wish of having an uncle that cared and he could feel the joy and surprise radiating off his friend.
“I’d love to,” Percy said. “I would love to meet your family.”
Steve grinned. “You’ll love them.”
David smiled, too. “I’m sure we will.”
They got up and hugs were passed around everyone and they said their goodbyes.
“Goodbye Uncle Percy,” Steve said, his voice a little rough with emotion. “Bye, Uncle David. I’ll see you both soon.”
David looked happy and shocked at being called Uncle. Jasper’s daughter would never. But here was this nineteen year old boy whom his partner hadn’t spoken to in literal years being more caring and decent after a single afternoon with him, then Beatrice had her whole life.
So he did the only thing he could, he hugged Steve again, more fiercely this time. “Thank you.”
Steve nodded. He wasn’t sure exactly why David was so grateful, but he understood enough.
As Steve and Eddie walked away, Percy and David watched them get into their car.
“How long do you think it’ll take before those boys realize they’re in love with each other?” David asked.
“I don’t know Eddie very well,” Percy said, thoughtfully, “but I imagine they’ll figure it out before we come visit Hawkins.”
David hummed. If he was a betting man, he would have said the end of the week.
But he just had to wait and see.
****
Pt 10|Pt 11|Pt 12
Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @emly03 @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @vecnuthy @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @gutterflower77 @genderless-spoon @hel-spawn @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @mamafaithful @yikes-a-bee @dragonmama76 @flaming-reauxster
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Cooking Up Love, Chapter 13
Pairing: Chef!Matt Murdock x F!Journalist!Reader
Rating: T
Story Summary: Here
Warnings/Tags: Hallmark levels of fluffy, cheesy goodness (and speed that their relationship develops, lol), no use of Y/N, Matt is not a vigilante, idiots in love, misunderstandings, minor Foggy/OFC
Word Count: ~3200
A/N: We're almost to the end! Thank you to everyone who has read, liked, and commented on my little self-indulgent Chef AU -- y'all keep me writing!
As always, thanks to @theradioactivespidergwen for the line break -- it's being put to good use!
Tag List: @yarrystyleeza @hailey-murdock @mattkinsella @bellaxgiornata @danzer8705 @chezagnes @shouldbestudying41 @thepunisherfrankcastle @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @roseslovedreams
"Wait, Matt actually accused you of screwing him over and using him just to make a name for yourself?" Skyler asked as you sat in your kitchen together after work later that evening. "I don't remember anything in your article worth him getting upset over when I read it yesterday."
You shook your head. "That's because there wasn't anything! I absolutely raved about both his culinary skills and his food, I talked about how much care and consideration he puts into perfecting his recipes, and I even mentioned his volunteer activities at Clinton Church."
Skyler shook her head. "Walk me through the conversation again."
"I emailed him my article then decided to call him a little later to let him know that I had sent it over. He seemed a bit put off but I wasn't sure if he was still upset with me over running out on him the other night or if something else was bothering him, so I asked him if he had read it. Suddenly he just went off on me, saying how all journalists were exactly alike and how we're always looking for the next big scoop no matter who we screw over in the process, then he said that he thought I actually cared about him and that I was no longer welcome at Daredevil."
Your voice broke, the hurt and anger in Matt's voice upsetting you all over again. "The worst part of it is that I do care about him, Sky, I -- I think I might have been falling for him."
Skyler reached out and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry."
You shook your head with a sniffle. "I hate to admit it, but maybe Kelsie was right and Matt was just stringing me along but got tired of waiting until my article was actually published to stop speaking to me, so he just made an excuse."
Skyler made a face. "Ugh. First off, don't ever use the phrase 'Kelsie was right' in my presence ever again. Secondly, didn't you say that he opened up to you about some personal stuff but asked you to keep it off the record?"
You nodded. "Yeah, and I did. I didn't mention anything to do with that in the article."
You pulled up your work email on your phone, opening the attachment you had sent Matt so you could read over it once again. "I didn't even -- wait, what is this?"
You scrolled through the document, your blood turning to ice in your veins. "Oh shit. Oh no, no , no, no, no, no. "
A look of alarm crossed Skyler's face. "What's wrong?"
"This isn't my article."
"What? What do you mean, that isn't your article?"
I mean , the article I sent Matt is not the article I wrote, Sky." You handed your phone to Skyler. "It's got my name on the byline, but I didn't write this. It's no wonder Matt was so pissed at me though -- this article is a smear campaign."
Skyler's eyebrows raised as she read through it. "Someone had to have switched the documents. Did you leave your computer unlocked and unattended at any point today?"
You shook your head. "No, of course not, I--"
You sighed. "Wait, yes. I was getting ready to send my article to Matt when Kelsie told me I had a package downstairs that I had to go personally sign for."
Skyler raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess, there was no package."
You nodded. "Exactly."
Skyler tapped at your phone screen. "Um, did you also send it to Max and Carrie and tell them Ellison approved your article and said to go ahead and send it to them?"
You shook your head. "No, why?"
"Because it looks like you did."
"What?" You grabbed your phone, scowling as you saw that the same attachment had been sent to the people who handled the layout for the physical paper as well as the digital edition. "Oh, but hell no. It's a good thing you caught that."
Skyler shook her head in disbelief. "That absolute bitch. I'm going to destroy her."
You sighed. "I don't know how I'm going to prove Kelsie is the one who wrote it and planted it on my PC though."
Skyler grinned. "Oh, I do. You didn't know that you can see who the original author of a document is and look at a document's editing history, did you?"
You shook your head.
"I bet Kelsie didn't either. I need your laptop."
You retrieved your laptop and pulled the document up on it before letting Skyler take over.
After a few clicks, Skyler nodded. "Sure enough. Not only is she listed as the original author of the document, but her digital signature is all over it."
You shook your head. "We need to go talk to Ellison."
You sent him a text message. Are you still at the office? I need to talk to you about something important.
A few seconds later, he replied. Yeah, still here trying to get this editorial column done. What's up?
I'll be there in 10 minutes. Don't go anywhere.
You saved the file to a flash drive, grabbed your keys, then you and Skyler practically ran to the Bulletin.
As soon as you got there, you booted up your computer and printed a copy of Kelsie's fake article. "Okay, let's go talk to Ellison."
You picked up the printout of Kelsie's fake article from the printer before you and Skyler headed to Ellison's office.
He looked up at the two of you tiredly. "Whatcha got for me?"
"Sabotage," Skyler replied. "As well as sneaky, underhanded, unethical so-called journalism."
Ellison's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"I have reason to believe that Kelsie swapped my Restaurant Week article out with a fake one in an attempt to discredit me," you explained.
You set the copy of the fake article down on Ellison's desk. "I wound up sending this to Chef Murdock, who was understandably upset by it and is how I caught it. And not only that, but Kelsie sent it to Max and Carrie while I was away from my computer."
Ellison's eyebrows raised as he read the fake article. "What makes you so sure it was Kelsie?"
Skyler scoffed. "Isn't it obvious? She's an evil, backstabbing bitch."
You shook your head. "Kelsie's had a personal vendetta against me ever since I got promoted to Features and has been going around all week accusing me of 'stealing' the Restaurant Week feature out from underneath her."
"And she's been saying all sorts of horrible things about Chef Murdock," Skyler added before pointedly looking at you. "Things that probably aren't even true."
Ellison sighed. "I knew she wasn't very happy with me for passing the Restaurant Week feature to you, but I wouldn't have suspected that she'd actually resort to sabotage."
He set the article down. "However, you both know that simply providing me with a copy of an allegedly-written article isn't enough. I need solid proof."
Skyler set the flash drive down on Ellison's desk. "Here's your proof. You'll notice that Kelsie is the original owner of the document and has edited it multiple times, and I bet if you look on her computer you'd find it there as well."
"Plus if you review the security footage from around 1:30 today you'll probably see her poking around at my desk." You set copies of the time-stamped emails sent to Max and Carrie. "She sent me on a wild goose chase trying to find some package I needed to personally sign for while she sent the fake article to Max and Carrie for publication."
"I wouldn't be surprised if she was behind the email server conveniently going down on Wednesday afternoon so you couldn't email your article to Mitch then," Skyler added. "It's a good thing you decided to print it and turn it in anyway."
Ellison sighed. "Do you still have your original file?"
You nodded. "She deleted it off of my computer here at work but I keep a copy of all of my articles on an external hard drive at home."
"Good. As soon as you get home, resend it to Max and Carrie marked urgent and CC me so I'll also have it digitally. In the meantime, I'll get Phil to pull the security footage from today."
"Okay." You bit your lip. "Um, is it okay if I take Monday off? After the week I've had I need a mental health day."
Ellison looked at you sympathetically and nodded. "Yeah, sure. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry for all this."
You shrugged. "Not your fault. What I don't get though is why Kelsie also chose to go after Chef Murdock so hard."
"I think I can answer that," Skyler said, handing you her phone. "Take a look at Kelsie's Facebook."
You looked at her latest post, which was a picture of her cozying up to a handsome, dark-haired, blue-eyed man. Romantic weekend away with my love, the photo was captioned. "So?"
Skyler shook her head and pulled up Kelsie's boyfriend's profile. "See who she's dating?"
Your eyebrows raised as you read his bio. "Huh, yeah, I guess that makes sense now."
Skyler showed it to Ellison. "Did you know this?"
Ellison shook his head. "No, I had no idea. It does explain why she was pushing so hard about getting the feature switched back though."
You nodded. "That way she could control the narrative."
Ellison sighed. "Let me go ahead and call Phil. Don't forget to CC me on that correction to Max and Carrie so it's documented."
You nodded. "Okay."
"I'll send out a staff-wide memo on Monday after everything is said and done, but in the meantime, don't say anything to anyone else on staff about this. I don't want it getting back to Kelsie so she can try to cover her tracks."
You and Skyler both nodded. "Yes, sir."
As you left the office and were headed back down the elevator, Skyler asked, "So what are you going to do about Matt? Still want me to kick his ass for you?"
You let out a light laugh. "No, that's okay. I'll just… move on, I guess? I mean, I'm going to send my actual article to him but he made it pretty clear that he didn't want anything else to do with me so I doubt he'll even open my email."
"Then it's his loss."
You stepped out of the elevator as the doors opened. "Thanks, Sky."
Skyler bit her lip. "What about Foggy? You think I should cancel my date with him tomorrow?"
You shook your head. "No way. Just because it didn't work out with me and Matt doesn't mean you shouldn't at least give Foggy a chance."
You gave her a wink. "Besides, just because I'm not welcome at Daredevil doesn't mean that you can't bring me some takeout from there, especially if you're dating the other owner."
Skyler laughed and gave you a hug. "Thanks, bestie."
"Let me know how it goes, ok?"
Skyler nodded. "I will."
You headed home and grabbed your laptop so you could send the correct article to Max and Carrie, CCing Ellison on the email with the explanation "Sorry, wrong attachment sent. Please use this attached copy in the print and online editions on Monday." .
You opened a new email and attached the correct file.
Subject: Explanation About Bulletin Article
Attachment: Restaurant Week Feature V1.doc
You took a deep breath.
Dear Matt,
You probably won't even open this email, but I wanted to let you know that the article I sent you earlier today was not the article I had written about you, nor is it the article that will be appearing in Monday's edition of the Bulletin. Long story short, someone else on staff replaced the file for my article (which I had given a hardcopy of to my editor for approval on Wednesday) with the one I erroneously sent you earlier today.
I promise I never meant to hurt you and I swear I would never use you (or anyone else, for that matter) just to get a lead on a story or try to pad my portfolio. This past week was one of the best of my life and it was genuinely a pleasure spending time with you and getting to know you… both inside the kitchen and out.
You bit your lip, trying to decide if you should tell Matt exactly how much he had begun to mean to you. Ultimately you decided against it, instead closing with ' Wishing you all the best in your future endeavors'.
You added your work signature, then sent the email.
You sat back and sighed. While it hurt knowing that you would never get to find out if the spark you had felt with Matt could've ignited into something real, you also knew that you would treasure the time you had spent with him forever.
"Matt, there's a gentleman on the phone asking for you," Karen said as Matt and Foggy prepped for brunch service on Sunday. "Says he's from the Bulletin."
Matt nodded and wiped his hands. He had called the editor on Friday evening and had left a voicemail disputing the information contained in your article and asking for a resolution. "I'll take it in the office. Thanks, Karen."
He could feel both her and Foggy watching him as he exited the kitchen and headed to the office.
He picked up the phone and transferred the call. "Matthew Murdock speaking."
"Chef Murdock," the man replied. "This is Mitchell Ellison. I'm the editor over at the New York Bulletin. "
Matt was hit with a pang. You had emailed him again on Friday afternoon but with his hurt over your article being so fresh and so raw Matt had been letting your email sit unopened in his inbox until he was ready to hear what kind of (undoubtedly poor) excuse you'd had for using him.
He cleared his throat. "Mmhmm."
"I just wanted to call and personally apologize for the feature article you received in your email on Friday. That was not the article I had approved for publication and I wanted to let you know that after a brief internal investigation, the person responsible for it is being terminated first thing tomorrow morning. I assure you, we do not stand for such unethical behavior at the Bulletin ."
Matt winced. While he was extremely hurt and angry with you, he hadn't actually set out to get you fired. "Thank you for letting me know."
"I'm sending over the feature that I actually had approved for tomorrow's edition of the paper and I must say, it's some of the best, most honest writing I've ever read. I think you'll be much more pleased with it."
Matt heard his inbox chime with a new email. "I think it just came in."
"Great. Apologies again for the mistake."
"Mmhmm. Thanks for returning my call."
"Of course. Have a good day, Chef."
"You too. Goodbye."
Matt hung up and sighed, then popped in his earbuds and pulled up Ellison's email.
From: [email protected]
Subject: NYC RESTAURANT WEEK FEATURE
Attachments: Restaurant Week Feature V1.doc
Chef Murdock,
Attached is the article that has been approved for this year's New York Restaurant Week feature. If you have any other questions, please don't hesitate to reach out.
Mitchell Ellison
Editor-in-Chief, New York Bulletin
Matt opened the attachment and tapped the keyboard command to begin his text-to-speech program, surprised to hear your name on the byline. He would have thought that whoever had been reassigned the article would get credited, especially since the editor-in-chief had said that your employment at the Bulletin was to be terminated.
Either way, Mr. Ellison had been right -- the rewritten article was immensely more positive than the previous one had been and actually included information that Matt had revealed to you during your recorded interviews… as well as information that hadn't been recorded and therefore only you would be able to include.
Matt's brow furrowed. Something's not adding up.
He closed out of the article, then navigated to your email.
He took a deep breath and opened it.
"Dear Matt," his text-to-speech program dictated,
"You probably won't even open this email, but I wanted to let you know that the article I sent you earlier today was not the article I had written about you, nor is it the article that will be appearing in Monday's edition of the Bulletin. Long story short, someone else on staff replaced the file for my article (which I had given a hardcopy of to my editor for approval on Wednesday) with the one I erroneously sent you earlier today. "
Matt tapped the spacebar on his keyboard to pause his program, filled with an odd mix of confusion and relief. So if you hadn't actually written the first article you had sent him… who had and why?
He tapped the spacebar again to continue.
"I promise I never meant to hurt you," your email continued, "and I swear I would never use you (or anyone else, for that matter) just to get a lead on a story or try to pad my portfolio. This past week was one of the best of my life and it was genuinely a pleasure spending time with you and getting to know you… both inside the kitchen and out.
Wishing you all the best in your future endeavors, sincerely yours…"
Matt navigated to the attachment, sucking in a breath as he realized that the article that the Bulletin 's editor-in-chief had sent him a few minutes before had been your article -- your real article, apparently.
Matt groaned and covered his face with his hands. He had been so caught up in his worry about getting hurt again that he had never even considered the possibility that you hadn't written the other article.
"Everything okay?"
Matt shook his head as Foggy entered the office. "I messed up."
"What do you mean?"
Matt sighed and said your name. "I was wrong about her, Fog, I was completely wrong. She didn't write that article."
"She didn't? How did she wind up sending it to you then?"
"Apparently one of her coworkers had replaced the file for her real article with the one she sent me -- I'm assuming as some form of sabotage or something. The editor at the Bulletin told me that the person responsible is being terminated first thing tomorrow morning."
"So did you get to read the real article?"
Matt nodded. "Yeah, it's right here."
Foggy moved to his side and leaned over his shoulder so he could read it.
After a few minutes, he straightened. "Damn, Matt, that was beautiful."
Matt nodded. "I know."
"So what are you going to do?"
"Apologize profusely and hope like hell that she'll forgive me."
Matt sighed. If you didn't forgive him, at least he had the memories he had made with you over the past week.
But if you did … Well, he wouldn't screw up a third time.
#lotmf writes#Cooking Up Love Masterlist#Chef!Matt Murdock x Reader#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x fem!reader#matt murdock x female reader#matt murdock x you
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part 1 (1985-1990): the saga of jeremy brett through the scuttlebutt archives
go here for part two!
since 1971, sherlockian and baker st irregular, peter blau has published a small "gossip" sheet for all sherlock holmes news under publication of the "scuttlebutt from the spermaceti press." after the advent of computers, peter started digitizing all his sheets from 1985 onward.
i went through blau's archives to look for any tidbits on jeremy brett. what i found tells jeremy's saga as granada's sherlock holmes. some of the entries are very straightforward. some of them require reading through the lines. some of them are just fun background bits of granada. but all of them paint jeremy's story through little snippets of news.
March 1985: granada premieres in america! vincent price quoted edgar w. smith, one of the foremost sherlockians in history :)
July 1985: the beginning of the closing chapter of his life
for some reason these are the only pictures i can find of joan and jeremy together, but they are absolutely adorable
August 1985 #1
August 1985 #2: jeremy's flightiness around the role trickles to the press. though he'll never say why.
"'and then i hang my pipes up,'" he said with a smile." his feelings regarding holmes were dangerous before joan's death and only got worse.
to quote producer june wyndham-davies, "when his depression was upon him, and he suffered from depression of the worst kind, he was a different person entirely. i've never known anyone whose personality could change so much. he would become aggressive and not want to continue. i had so many conversations with jeremy about not wanting to continue as sherlock holmes. he felt that sherlock holmes had turned him into a monster. jeremy brett was like that before he ever came to sherlock holmes, but it wasn't his fault and it certainly wasn't sherlock holmes fault."
December 1987: i didn't know he commissioned the play, the secret of sherlock holmes! and helped write it!!
February 1988: damn, that's audacious
May 1988: i can only imagine how much more would've been created and executed if jeremy hadn't gotten sick
okay but, the dog in the hound of the baskervilles is named khan. the movie is literally the wrath of khan.
June 1988: i can't pinpoint the timeline for when jeremy's mental illness became public knowledge and published by the media. however, from this short news clipping, it doesn't seem like they knew the real reason jeremy's hair was cut short. and almost certainly not that he chopped it off himself.
"jeremy just got into one of his manic states—you know, i hate sherlock holmes etc., and one day he cut his hair. in front of the mirror, he lopped bits off. i remember the first time I saw him after he had done it. we were both appearing in an 80th birthday tribute to sir laurence olivier at the national. he turned up at the theatre and i said, 'god, what have you done to your hair?' it was patently obvious it had not been cut by a barber—there were bits sticking up all over." -edward hardwicke
July 1988: the age of jeremy brett! forget the victorian era, this is the jeremerian? brettian? era
October 1988 #1
October 1988 #2: jeremy's insecurities shine through more. high praise for daniel day-lewis. "don't worry you haven't heard or seen the last of him!" congrats to jeremy for introducing lewis to america LOL. yay for play success! (also what does he mean by saying the private life of sherlock holmes is a "damaged film?" robert stephens was one of jeremy's life long best friends--stephens died exactly 2 months after jeremy. coincidentally, jeremy's ex-boyfriend, paul shenar, died exactly one month after jeremy.)
October 1988 #3: L O L
November 1988 #1: jeremy's opinion matters!
November 1988 #2: in my opinion, "bending the willow" is the most important part of jeremy's interpretation of holmes
August 1989: michael cox (the cornerstone of creating and shaping the first half of granada's run) begins to make his (very forced) exit. jeremy's physical health problems are becoming apparent, but they are brushed away by the actor, attributing his breathing issues and weight gain to heavy smoking. and once again, jeremy tries to cast off holmes, without revealing his true reasons.
according to granada's page on the arthur conan doyle encyclopedia, this is what was really happening:
"the performances were probably cathartic for him, but required excessive physical effort from a man with a worsening heart condition who, due to the enormous water retention caused by the lithium, found it difficult to breathe and move. he was forced to leave the theatre and go to hospital, where he stayed for a fortnight and had more than twelve litres of water removed from his body. by 1989 brett and hardwicke, who had supported him with boundless patience, were on their knees. brett took a short holiday but had to be rushed home and hospitalized: the treatments for his bipolar disorder and his heart condition had clashed."
i strongly recommend reading edward's later comments of his difficulties with jeremy during the show: link here
October 1989: two months later, jeremy has yet again changed his mind on continuing as sherlock holmes
November 1989: philip purser how d a r e you say that about my beloved watson. of course, it's from the daily mail, so his opinion doesn't matter.
December 1989: granada undergoes major changes. the conservative government was actively attacking the british media and coming after their budgets. after ousting all of the original leaders of granada's sherlock holmes, the new priorites were based off of ratings and profitability. "you must always remember that your business is to form the market as well as to supply it, [otherwise] your career will have succeeded only in restraining the arts, tarnishing the virtues, and throwing confusion into the manners of your contemporaries." -a granada staffer to the new leaders of the show
January 1990: jeremy finally feels stable in the role, but i think without that dance with "the dark side of the moon" he felt like he lost a key element in his portrayal of holmes. even though he had always been terrified of that instabiity.
end of part 1, so here's part two!
#sherlock holmes#jeremy brett#granada#granada holmes#long post#scuttlebutt from the spermaceti press#peter blau#edward hardwicke#linda pritchard#granada meta#june wyndham-davies#michael cox#part 1#bipolar#mental illness#original post
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Now that the prologue is done, I can't thank the fans of this series enough.
No, we haven't hit any particular follower milestone. The story has just begun. And most of you haven't given me any sort of financial support to help me out, either. (And that's alright! I haven't asked, lol.)
I'm thanking you for just being apart of the audience.
I started PB in a little blue notebook during the summer of 2015. It was originally meant for my eyes only. And a big part of the reason why was that, when I googled things like "Special Ed makes me feel bad," there wouldn't be much of anything coming up. There were Quora forums! A couple of YouTube videos. Articles here and there.
But it wasn't a lot. Not enough to help me out for long. And it only hammered the idea further into my head that I was alone in what I endured. As I got older, grew up, and away from the program and people who took my disabled youth, I constantly felt this urge to talk about it. What SpEd had put me through. What I'd lost. What I'd seen & heard. The things I did and didn't learn. Even though I was never a very open kid, let alone teenager.
I hated that no one was talking about it. And how nobody knew what happened to kids like me behind closed doors. At 13 and 14, almost none of the new friends I made had ever heard a life story like mine. And I've always found that wild: I had a LOT of friends! (Still do!)
So I kept drawing it out. Kept working on the story in notebooks, sketchbooks, my friends' DMs, and anywhere else words could go. Sometimes, my family would catch glimpses of the concept art. Sad sketches of Matthew crying, freaky drafts of Monster, or tense moments between what would become Class 7-C.
And one of my parents would be like, "Why is your art so depressing?" They'd roll their eyes. And they'd add on, "People's parents aren't gonna like it!"
No, I never told them what the story was about. I never even told them it was a children's media (because it kinda isn't! I'd personally put PB as 13+?) These were judgments made with just one glance at computer papers covered in pencil strokes; sketchy and shapey little kids who didn't look like they were having fun.
I knew they were wrong. But the audacity still pissed me off. There aren't many times where it's appropriate to boss somebody else around in how to tell their story, you know? Not only that, but I also worried about not having an audience back then. Sure, all my friends loved my work. But at the time, I was the only one who'd really experienced anything "Special Education" in life. Thus, these were General Ed kids watching it unfold. Able-bodied eyes and (as far as I knew back then) neurotypical minds, watching and learning from whatever I made.
And I liked that. But that wasn't the only group I wanted to be seen by. I wanted disabled people, especially youth in their teens and twenties, to see it. That's my primary audience. And shit like that made me wonder if I'd ever find it. Had me second-guessing myself a little, you know?
But I shook it off. It's like that thing teachers always say in class. "If you're confused or have a question, ask: whatever it is, you probably aren't the only one thinking it!"
And I searched for stuff like PAPERBOY, hadn't I? Yeah. I had. So by that logic, other people definitely would be, too.
So I stuck to my guns, and... check it! Y'all showed up!
One thing I've noticed ever since publishing part 1 is that the PB Nation is pretty damn devoted. You guys have been patient, passionate, silly, and unapologetically yourselves since the get-go. And the response to every old promotional comic or post I've made has been OVERWHELMINGLY positive and curious. I've gotten fucking fanart, man! More than once! I've had the honor of meeting a few of you in person already! And for the ones who haven't caught me out with my friends in New York, believe me, I REMEMBER who comments what.
By the way, you guys should spam my comments more. Fuckin' love that shit. SPEAK TO ME, lmao. Even if it's like, the most irrelevant PB question ever. Keyboard smash in my comment sections. Send me disability reels you like. Tell me what you wanna see from the story. Whatever, as long as it doesn't bleed into parasocial territory!
I've gotta have one of the best audiences out there. So thank you! For just... being around. Here's to hoping y'all enjoy the journey we're aboutta go on.
#paperboy pb#paperboy#author's note#disability#disabled artist#disabled writer#webtoon canvas creator
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My Dearest Darling (Irnes/Fatui!Reader Part Two)
The first part can be read here!
So funny story... The second I published the first part of this series, I spilled water all over my expensive computer and killed it. So I'm writing this on my tiny, barely functional chromebook from four years ago and regretting my life choices, but that doesn't matter because progress! Here's part two and the aftermath of the festival! Time to beat Irnes with a stick because that's all I know how to do... Don't worry, he's okay. Mostly. You would think that I'd put off Irnes' tragic backstory... But nah. So take this gift and hide it with your treasures, it's going to be a bumpy ride.
And yes, reader is addressed as sir a lot in this part, but the Fatui just call everyone sir. Woman? Sir. Man? Sir. Everyone in between? Sir. Same goes for Lord, gender is thrown out the window.
P.S. Thank you all for the beautiful comments on the last part! We're not even in deep water yet, this is just the kiddie pool of feels... Much love for you all, enjoy!
Aftermath
There's noise. You wake up to a horrid amount of noise, which only makes you want to shrivel up even more, like a raisin. You're well rested, but your lips are so chapped that you feel like a fish that's been left out of water for too long, rolling over in bed and burying your face in the weirdly soft pillow under your head. Weird, yours is nothing close to being soft...
Opening your eyes, you find a little poof of blue hair, watching you with wide eyes from the side of the bed.
"...Hello?"
"Hi."
"Can I help you?"
"No."
"Oh. Okay, then."
The clones continues to watch you until the door swings open, his eyes widening as he gets to his feet and scampers off, getting a warm chuckle from the doorway. You're still groggy, but you know that laugh, and you're not surprised to see Irnes, a painted tray in his hands, two cups of steaming tea and a matching teapot perched neatly on top of it.
"Good morning, dear. I see you've met Sergei. Don't worry, he's mostly harmless, I had him keep watch while I made some tea. He seems to have taken it... A bit too literally."
Irnes sets down the tray, dusting off his hands lightly as he turns to hand you the teacup, a pleasant smell filling the room.
"It's aster tea, if you're wondering! A little bit of sweet flower too, but that's the secret ingredient! And a little bit of love, of course."
You laugh lightly, taking the cup from his hands and sip at it carefully. It's warm- not hot enough to burn your tongue, but not even close to being able to burn your mouth- and pleasant on the tongue, and you're so entranced that you almost miss Irnes sitting down on the bed, the mattress dipping slightly as he holds the teacup awkwardly in one hand, his scarred fingers shaking as they press against the side of the cup, but do nothing to help. It makes your curious, as you've never seen him without his gloves and with his sleeves rolled up like this. His skin is so red and torn that it looks painful, and you almost want to ask what was brutal enough to cause that much damage. Because you're going to beat it up, obviously.
Irnes seems to notice your staring, laughing awkwardly in the silence.
"Like what you see?"
The strain in his voice isn't covered up very well, unfortunately. You quickly tear your gaze away from the burned and crooked fingers against the porcelain of the teacup, instead watching his face closely. It's... soft, lacking the wide grin and composure you're so used to.
"You know it. I'm sorry for staring."
"Don't apologize, dear. I can see the gears in your head turning. You want to know what happened."
"I guess, yeah."
"Do you really want to know?"
You hate the way he sounds so small, his smile bleeding away until it's a small frown. He's clearly hesitating, and you suddenly feel bad for agreeing.
"I do, but you don't have to tell me. You said it isn't a happy story for you..."
"I did, didn't I?"
Irnes chuckles, taking another sip of his tea.
"I won't tell you the whole story right now, but... it was a factory accident. Got caught in some machinery."
Silence. There's no right answer to this, you can't imagine what kind of machinery could've done that. You don't feel pity, no, you just hate the thought of something that terrible happening to him, to the point that he can't even hold a cup of tea with that hand.
"It's alright, however! It was a long time ago, I was young and stupid back then! It doesn't hurt nearly as much as it used to, just a few aches and pains. The burns and breaks healed quite nicely, Prime originally wanted to cut off my arm because of all the damage. That's probably the last time I trusted Prime with a bone saw, I tell you."
"You trusted Dottore with a bone saw?"
"Eh. Somewhat. Though he's a bit rusty, so I suppose it was the delirium talking."
"Good. I'd be concerned if you trusted him with anything other than chemistry."
"I do suppose he doesn't have a degree in medical sciences. We're self taught, the lot of us!"
"...I don't know if I should be horrified or impressed."
"Both, dear! Now, would you like more tea? There's plenty to go around..."
Together?
So Irnes kissed you. Confessed to you, even if it wasn't in the most... direct way. Which means... Well, you're not even sure what it means, but after spending the better part of the day chatting idly and lounging around- you completely forgot about the fact that you're an agent, and you have a job. While you'd love to still have life you had before, with few responsibilities and spending most of your days exploring the surrounding forest or staying inside while practicing your indulgent hobbies- you can't. The money you get for your service, though it's not much, is the only thing keeping your family from falling into bankruptcy, and you can't have them on the streets. You can't let that happen.
The next day, you get your ass kicked by one of the higher ranking agents, and after a few bruises and a promise to do better, you finally get dismissed, back to your room in the barracks. The flowers are still there, and you make a note to give them to Irnes the next time you see him.
Which is in fact a few days later. You feel bad, the flowers have wilted slightly, as the natural course of life has taken them into its arms, but they still look nice... Hopefully Irnes won't mind. You find yourself sneaking out during patrol, some of your friends covering for you with little winks and whistles, which is quite embarrassing but- It's not like you have much of a choice.
Technically, it's been four days since you've seen him. Yes, you've definitely been counting, wondering when your paths would cross, excited and scared at the same time. Would he be okay with being seen together, for others to know that you're a thing? While relationships are forbidden between soldiers in the military, Irnes isn't exactly a part of said military. Right? He serves under a Harbinger, but he's certainly not a part of the ranks, as far as you can tell. He's treated more like a lordling than an agent, so surely it wouldn't be unlawful?
If it is... Oh, you're so dead.
Once you arrive at the lab, you hesitantly knock, stepping back to avoid being hit by the door. There's no answer for a long moment, before a commotion reaches your ears, and the door opens with a loud creak, a mass of shouting and shoving clones revealed, all trying to get the door at the same time. You stand there for a good moment, befuddled as you hold the small bouquet of flowers awkwardly, staring as the clones continue to brawl, ignoring you completely.
"Ah, excuse me! Pardon me, I need to get through-"
A clone somehow manages to wiggle his way through the mass, panting as he comes out the other side looking as if he's been put through a hurricane.
"Forgive me, sir!"
The poor clone looks white as a sheet, occasionally glancing back at the brawl happening behind him shamefully. He's familiar... Wasn't he the one who was staring at you the other day when you woke up? Sergei, if you remember correctly.The poor clone looks white as a sheet, occasionally glancing back at the brawl happening behind him shamefully. He's familiar... Wasn't he the one who was staring at you the other day when you woke up? Sergei, if you remember correctly.
"No need to apologize, Sergei. I'm sure this is... a somewhat normal occurrence, no need to worry about it. Where's Irnes?"
"Ah! Well, um, he's resting."
"Resting?"
"Oh, you weren't informed... Oh dear, I'm so sorry! It slipped my mind, I promised him that I'd go notify you- I completely forgot!"
"Hey, hey. Don't stress yourself out, it's fine. But if I may, what happened?"
"Ah, right! Uh, Irnes fell ill a little while ago. He's been sick for the past few days..."
Oh no. Ice floods your veins, your hands accidentally crushing the stems of the flowers in your grasp. You know he's probably fine, but what if he isn't? You've been toiling away, training and joking around with your comrades this whole time while he's been suffering! You feel horrible for not taking the time to visit, let alone take care of him... You're not officially together, but you still care! And if he can't even answer the door... Oh Tsaritsa have mercy, you're a horrible person. At least, that's what you tell yourself as Sergei watches you, clearly concerned.
"Um, sir? Would you like to come inside and speak with him? He's a bit feverish, but I think he'd feel better, seeing you."
"Yes, yes! Let me in, thank you!"
You practically run past Sergei and the now dissipating crowd of rowdy clones, trying not to let your own anxiousness get ahold of you. But it's hard, and the lab is so big...
"This way, sir..."
Sergei takes your arm gently before you can run too far into the lab, guiding you towards a door hidden behind a row of large pods. There's nothing in them, but you can roughly tell what they're used for, the size is too close to human to be a coincidence. The door is cracked slightly, Sergei opening it quietly and beckoning you in, walking over to one of the few singular beds in the room, the others bunk beds that are a mess of papers and mismatched blankets.
The room is dark, which makes it hard to see. You almost run into a bedpost at least twice, and by the time you make it to the corner with a dim candle illuminating it, you're still riding out the adrenaline from earlier and a few new waves from almost smacking yourself straight in the face with metal that's beginning to rust.
"Irnes..."
Sergei walks over to the sleeping figure in the bed, which is now very clearly Irnes once you take a closer look- except he's not wearing his mask. Burns trail up the side of his face and creep into his hairline, his eyes both tightly shut against the cold compress on his forehead, a bunch of serums and shots sitting on the bedside table, along with what looks to be tea that's long since gone cold.
"Irnes, wake up. You have a visitor."
Sergei shakes his shoulder lightly, getting a little annoyed grunt from Irnes, who tries to roll over (unsuccessfully).
"Irnes, please. It's your friend."
"'ich one?"
Irnes finally speaks, and he sounds terrible. As if his vocal cords have been completely and utterly destroyed. Much raspier than what you're used to, which only makes your anxiety worse.
"...The one you made me watch."
At that, Irnes' eyes snap open, and he tries to sit up, only to be pushed back down by Sergei.
"Ah, my dear..."
Irnes chuckles, weakly pushing Sergei off and settling himself back down. You advance carefully, Sergei pulling back with a small nod before wandering off, likely to get back to his work. You turn to meet eyes with Irnes for the first time-
And almost drop your flowers in shock.
One of his eyes does not match the other, and not in the heterochromia way. No, one of them is just a milky white, the pupil so burned that it has no color. As if it's a boiled egg... without the yolk, but a boiled egg nontheless. The other is a piercing red, though it's foggy with the haze of his fever.
"I'm terribly sorry that you have to see me like this..."
Irnes sniffles, fumbling for the handkerchief on the bedside table. You pick it up, handing it to him carefully. He takes it with a small smile, using his good hand to bring it up to his face, wiping at his nose clumsily.
"I believe that a night out in the cold may have done me in... I'm very sorry that I couldn't greet you properly my dear."
"Don't worry about it, you need your rest. I, um, brought you some flowers, but they're kind of wilted..."
"I'll treasure them."
Irnes chuckles, but it turns into a coughing fit, shrill and dry. You reach forward, though you really can't do anything, hovering until he finally regains his breath, his eyes watery as he wipes at his face again, trying to get rid of any evidence of being vaguely gross and sweaty. He really does want to look his best for you, and yet... If this doesn't drive you away, he'll be surprised.
"Are you okay?"
"Oh yes, I'm-"
He starts coughing again, but this time you put a gentle hand on his shoulder, sitting down in the little space there is between his body and the edge of the bed. He's physically shaking, you can feel it through the blanket, his coughing muffled by the handkerchief over his mouth. Oh Tsaritsa have mercy, it leaves a bad taste in your mouth, not to mention how much it makes your heart physically hurt. This is your fault, isn't it? As far as you know, the festival was the last time he was out in the cold, he doesn't seem to leave the palace often. Archons, you should've known better...
"...My dear, forgive me. I truly wish to talk to you, but I'm afraid my body isn't allowing me-"
The coughing fit once again makes an appearance, to the point that you're almost considering getting help. Sergei couldn't have gone far, right? You free your hands of the flowers, setting them behind the mass of items on the bedside table, before turning back to Irnes. What can you do? Your comrades can't cover for you forever, but you can't just leave him like this...
"Don't worry about it, Irnes. Just... focus on resting. I'm sorry for waking you up..."
"Nonsense... Sit with me. I may not speak-"
More coughing. You're not sure how long you take keep a brave face, this is pushing your anxiety through the roof.
"-but I want you here. If you're not opposed."
"Of course not. I'll stay for as long as you want me. I'll get a chair..."
You move to get up, but Irnes reaches for you before you can, his hand trying to grab your arm.
"Lay with me."
It's barely a whisper, but it stops you in your tracks, Irnes' watering eyes meeting yours. Who are you to say no? Even if you do get sick, it'll be worth it. Sitting back down, you unbuckle and pull off your boots, setting your coat aside as well, carefully crawling over Irnes and settling on his right side. You don't dare ask him to turn over, sliding under the covers easily. It's warm, but you're freezing without your coat on, and Irnes is very hot. Quite literally. He's so warm that you're thawed almost instantly.
"Irnes...?"
"...Hm?"
"I'm sorry for getting you sick."
Irnes chuckles again, shaking his head lightly.
"Nonsense. It's my own fault. Besides... I have you here with me. That's enough for me."
"But-"
"Shh-"
More coughing. You reach out again, this time placing a gentle hand on his side, rubbing gently as he shakes and spasms under your hands, hacking and coughing into the handkerchief. There's nothing you can do, you're not a doctor or mad scientist. Just a soldier who only knows first aid, and maybe a little bit about comfort. Other than that, you're stumped.
The coughing finally stops after a long fit, Irnes' hand falling back onto the bedsheet, his eyes glazed over.
"You're okay..."
You can't help but blurt it out, the tears glistening on Irnes' face making your throat tighten.
"You're going to be okay..."
Drowsy
You fall asleep, somehow. Irnes too, but you wake up to Sergei hovering by the bed, shaking your shoulder lightly.
"Sir, I think it's best if you retreat for the night."
"No, it's fine. Is there anything I can do for him?"
"Not at the moment. I have regulated his fever, and all he needs is rest that the moment. But I hate to leave you in such conditions..."
"What do you mean? If you're afraid of me getting sick, it's really not a problem. And the bed is very comfortable. I'm a bit hungry, but that's not a big problem..."
"...Oh. I see. Well, um, I will go fetch something for you to eat then!"
Sergei then rushes off, leaving you awake and alone. Irnes has at some point flipped over, his face now mashed into the cold compress and pillow, breathing softly. You can't help but reach out and brush the stray hairs out of his face, tucking the particularly long one behind his ear. It's weirdly intimate, but you can't bring yourself to care. His skin is still too hot, but much less than before. Hopefully he feels a little better when he wakes up...
Dinner is... lackluster at best, but you're not really hungry anyways. Your squadron leader is likely out looking for you right now, but you're too tired to make the long trek back to the barracks, and it's not like they'll miss you all that much. You'll get another scolding, but what can they do? Replace you?
Actually, that would be very bad, you shut that thought down faster than anything else in your life.
You eventually drift back to sleep on a full stomach, only waking up when something heavy falls on you in the middle of the night, crushing the air straight out of your lungs. You gasp for air, now very much awake, as you try to shove off the mystery obstruction-
Only to find a head of light blue hair on your chest, Irnes having somehow flipped over onto you in the middle of the night. Now, he's laying half on top of you, and he's heavy. Well, with that sort of height, it's no surprise, but you didn't expect him to lay on you, you're not exactly the most comfy thing in the room.
"...Dear, hurts."
"Huh?"
"Head hurts."
"Oh, you're awake. Do you want water? Maybe something to eat?"
Irnes nods, his hair tickling your collar. You smile in the darkness, shifting him to lean against your shoulder so you don't break his back or anything as you sit up, reaching for the glass on the bedside table. It's not frozen yet, luckily, but it's really cold. Hopefully Irnes doesn't mind it...
"Alright, here's the water. Careful, it's cold."
Irnes drinks greedily, though he can't even hold the cup by himself. Either that, or he can, and he's just letting you feed him like a child. You're happy to indulge regardless, he's probably too tired to worry about it right now.
Once he's done, you set the cup back down carefully, scooting back to your previous position. Irnes is clearly half asleep, but his eye glints faintly in the dark, half lidded and a vivid red.
"Feeling a little better?"
"Mhm. Warm."
"Yeah, well you still have a nasty fever. I promise that it'll be better soon, okay?"
You lean down, planting a gentle kiss on his brow, which he very happily leans into. You're 99% sure he doesn't even know what's going on, but it's okay. At least he isn't running around the halls naked or anything drastic...
"Sleep..."
"Alright, alright. After you."
"No. Sleep."
"Irnes..."
"Sleeeeeep..."
You can't win this one.
Recovery
You're ushered back to your barracks after a day of taking care of Irnes, though it's very hesitantly.
And of course, your boss practically shouts your ear off for sneaking off and abandoning your post. At this rate, you'll be sent to a corrections camp, apparently. Not that you care, but they aren't taking any excuses on how you were taking care of a sick family member (which isn't technically true, but...). Either way, you're stuck with bathroom cleaning for the rest of the week, which gets a bunch of laughs from your comrades. Tsk. At least you aren't getting sent back home...
Once you do see Irnes again, it's almost deliberate. He's outside the barracks, in fact, his cane in hand as he stands tall against the cold winds.
"Irnes! What are you doing?!"
"Ah, my dear! I was waiting for you, your friends alerted me that you were out... cleaning."
Those bastards. Irnes is clearly being polite about it, but you want to beat some people up. Namely, your friends.
"I was, but you can't just stand out in the cold like this! You're going to get sick again!"
"It's worth it, to see you."
Oh boy, you're going to have to have a long talk about acceptable risks with this man. He's a goofball, but now he's your goofball. Which means you must take responsibility. It's for the greater good.
"Well come inside, then! I can't have you getting sick again on my watch! Next time, just tell them to bring you to my quarters, on my very specific orders. If they don't..."
You weren't sure what a good threat was in this situation, but you'd figure it out. It was whatever, as you were finally in front of your room, which was very clearly barren as per Fatui code. All personal articles were few and far between, such as the vase that you left on the table earlier, and a picture of your family on your desk. Other than that, it was almost empty, other than the quilt your mother had sent you off with.
"Sorry it's a little boring... It's a temporary living space at best."
"Oh, no. I think it's rather lovely! Is this your family?"
Irnes immediately takes to the black and white photo, the kamera quality being questionable at best. Yet there you are, still young and lacking the broken bones that recruitment brought upon you. In fact, you look almost happy in the picture, compared to now. No dark circles, no clicking shoulder- just a child that snuck off into the forest to eat berries and run through the twisting roots of ancient trees.
"It is. Happier times, you know."
"They seem quite nice! I can't wait to meet them."
Woah there, that's... Alright, the idea of Irnes meeting your family is very appealing, but still! He can't just make your heart explode like that, it's not fair!
"You'll meet them soon enough. Anyways, can I get you some tea or something?"
"Tea would be wonderful."
The Letter
A few weeks pass, seemingly uneventful.
You meet up with Irnes on your breaks, and he's seemingly memorized your schedule, always waiting for you at the end of your shift guarding the halls, sweeping you up and away without a second's hesitation. Your boss is almost pissed at you, but after Irnes showed up for a personal meeting with them, they've been weirdly quiet about you skipping out on a few of your duties. That doesn't mean you've stopped doing them, no, you're just... less stressed about Irnes keeping you for too long.
Then the letter arrives.
You know the seal on it like the back of your hand. An official ordinance from Her Majesty. It arrives over dinner, while your whole squadron is gathered, your leader getting up and reading it loud and clear. You're being sent overseas to assist in the retrieval of the Sumeru Archon's gnosis. Of course, you're nothing more than infantry, you likely won't see the gnosis or the Harbingers in action, you'll just be a meat shield should anything go wrong. Which you're not exactly worried about, it's what you were trained for, but it also means that there's a high chance you'll get critically injured or even die.
The news settles over the room heavily, as your squadron hasn't been officially stationed outside the palace yet. You've only been involved in internal affairs as of yet, and other nations are a whole new hurdle. But it's Her Majesty's order, and you can't refuse.
"Get packing, everyone. We leave tomorrow at daybreak."
Tomorrow.
You're leaving tomorrow.
It's horrible, the feeling that sinks into your bones. You need to tell Irnes, you need to at least hold him or something before you go, you'll go insane if you don't. That's how you end up in front of the Doctor's lab, the sun having already dipped beneath the horizon, breathing heavily and banging on the door like your life depends on it. It doesn't open. Are they ignoring you on purpose? No, they can't, you'll break the door in if you have to-
"My apologies, it took me a mo- my dear?"
Irnes stands before you, and you almost collapse in relief.
"Irnes-"
He staggers a little as you launch yourself into his arms, burying your face in his chest. Irnes doesn't speak, merely gaping at you for a moment until he finally gains his bearings, hugging you back with just as much- if not more- fierceness, his good hand holding you up while the other rests oh so gently on the back of your head, pulling you close.
"What's wrong, my love?"
"I-"
You can't say it. The crushed expression on his face would surely destroy you, tear you apart before you can even pack your bags and leave. So you don't speak, burying your face in his shoulder to hide your shakiness. It's not because you're afraid of leaving, it's just the idea of him being heartbroken at your death- it scares you. As a soldier, you know full well that death will eventually come for you, but Irnes is fragile. You don't want to reunite to early in that impossible circumstance.
"It's alright, my dear. Whatever it is, we'll get through it. I know we will."
"You make it sound like we're married-"
"Good. Because we will be soon."
"Huh?"
"Nothing. Now, come inside and have some tea. It'll help you calm down, my dear. Besides, you're shaking... It may be best to sit for a while."
"Yeah... Tea sounds nice."
Morning
You're all packed, ready to take on Sumeru. Light clothes? Check. Plenty of lotion? Check. A ton of paper and envelopes? Check and check! The pier is already somewhat populated when you arrive, feeling better after Irnes talked it over with you last night. It was nice, having him hold your hands gently while soothing you with reassurances, especially the one where he promised to write every day. You selfishly hoped that he would write to you each day, even if you knew deep down that it wouldn't happen. You were both too busy, and you knew all too well that it would be a miracle if he had even a moment's break from wrangling clones and finishing experiments.
The walk of shame out of the barracks was freezing, not to mention that your body felt like it was made of lead. You had slept somewhat well the night before, but your own body was betraying you, not wanting to be up this early. It wasn't hard, walking the distance from the barracks to the pier, but with two heavy bags and a coat that could suffocate a man... it would be a long one.
The Piazza itself was quiet. None of the nobles or couriers had arrived on business, and the guards were likely around the bend, making rounds. Your shift would be starting soon, if it were a normal day. You'd see Irnes before sunset, and would be whisked away to help his research in the library-
You're going to miss him so much.
Casting one last glance at the palace in all it's glory, you give Irnes your final goodbye, heading for the flagship that's undoubtedly going to be pulling away soon.
The walk down to the pier isn't as lonely as the one through the palace. There's plenty of soldiers milling about, not all from your squadron, waiting for the final calls to get on board. There's plenty of foot servants running around, taking bags and giving out quarter numbers, the crowd around the flagship only growing thicker the closer you get to the boarding ramp. You haven't seen any Harbingers milling about, but you don't doubt that there's at least one present, the Doctor wouldn't call for just foot soldiers. No, he's too ostentatious for that. You wouldn't be surprised if the Captain was hidden somewhere in the throngs of people, maybe even on the ship itself.
You eventually get stopped, your bag taken and a key thrust into your hand. 187 is stamped clearly into the bronze tag, though the key itself has seen so much use that any paint on it has long since faded away, barely clinging to the metal. It's well loved, as your mother would say. You pocket the key, preparing to board the ship-
"Excuse me! Pardon me, so sorry~"
Irnes?
You turn, only to find Irnes, pushing through the crowd, his towering figure and lopsided gait standing out from the crowd.
"Ah, my dear! I hope I'm not too late!"
You can't do much more than stare, eyes wide. Irnes... came to see you off? This early?
Your chest feels warm, warmer than it's ever been before.
"Irnes?"
"Of course, who else would it be? You surely didn't think that I'd let you leave without a kiss goodbye?"
You want to cry. You feel like you should, standing there only a step away. You didn't expect this, and maybe it's just the fact that you woke up so early that's making that feeling fill your chest, clogging your throat and making it hard to speak.
"I... I don't know."
"Well then, seems that I'll have to change your mind, my dear."
The kiss lingers for so long that you're convinced the boat will leave without you. When you finally pull away, Irnes is beaming so bright you could almost compare him to the sun: brilliant and about to combust. He takes your hands gently and plants kisses on both of them with a cheeky grin, placing one last kiss on your left before letting go, smiling and gazing at your face as if he can't get enough of you.
Oh, you're not leaving without a hug from this man. Unacceptable.
"Oh! How could I have forgotten?"
He hugs you back so tightly that you can barely breathe.
"Have a safe trip, my love. I will think of you every moment you're away. And do not worry, I will take care of myself in your absence! Sergei will ensure it!"
Irnes bows dramatically, getting a little laugh out of you as he grins brightly. You can tell his eyes are sparkling, even with the mask in the way.
"I know he will. Um... I'll write whenever I can. Every day, I hope."
"Of course. Regardless, I will write you a letter for every day you carry my heart, dear."
You're speechless by his smooth talking again, blushing a little. The horn blares in the silence, the call for the stragglers to board, the winter wind blowing in from the south and catching Irnes' hair, like feathers on a warm breeze.
"Go on, my dear! Know that I love you!"
He shoves you towards the flagship with a hearty chuckle. The crowd around you moves, but Irnes is ever present, solid against the waves of people, waving with that tender smile on his face.
You force yourself to turn, waving back and joining the rush of soldiers.
As you step foot on the deck, you hear singing.
A familiar voice belts over the docks, so loud that it overpowers the wind, the lyrics clear and full of passion.
Farewell, my departed soldier, he sings.
May the sea carry you back to my home.
#irnes#fatui reader#fatui x reader#fatui x gn reader#il dottore's clones#fatui#fatui harbingers#genshin impact#part two babeyyy#he's back and as fruity as ever
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February 6, 2009
Dear Diary,
Here I am, making my mark on the world. I loathe having to explain myself; I'm sure you will find out enough about me throughout this entire little book. I have never actually used a journal without lines; I am looking forward to it.
I wouldn't mind this journal being published - that is if it's good enough. I would love to someday see my writing in bookstores, like Anne Frank's diary. I feel like I know her. I wish I could meet her, but alas, she is dead.
There is one thing you should know about me, I love animals. Almost any animal I will accept into my heart. I have a rat; her beautiful sister Molly died, but she is always present in my thoughts.
Well, I will tell you more about me. I have been writing since I was about six or seven but back then I was a lousy writer, telling my journal what was happening but never expressing my thoughts. I am better now, using my journals to write down my thoughts, not what is going on around me.
When I am writing, I pay no attention to other people around me; it is "me time" when I am writing. I don't pay attention to Henry yelling or Emily talking to the computer or Mom talking on the phone. I think it is a good quality to be able to shut yourself off from other humans sometimes; I think writing is what keeps me from going crazy. Certainly, it is - I don't know how some people keep from writing everyday.
I love to write; I think my heart would explode if I didn't write. Sometimes my heart feels so happy or angry or sad that I really and truly believe it will burst. You must think I am silly. I am not trying to be silly. I want people to know what I think, but I can never put it into words.
I want you to know everything about my life, but at the same time, I don't want to write everything out. I am confused, and I am craving something sweet. Emily might make chocolate crinkle cookies. Let's hope she does! Hm. Emily's ex boyfriend still likes her. Emily doesn't like him, she likes [redacted] and [redacted] likes her. Anyway, I don't want to bore you with this.
Anyway, Mom and a friend were talking about me going back to school. I won't fit in. I'm skinny and weird and have a flat chest. I want to grow! I want to fit in with everyone else. Of course, I'll still have my own personality, but I don't think anybody would like me. But that wouldn't matter because all people talk about in middle school is how much they love and miss their boyfriends or how much they hate that girl going out with their ex boyfriend. I hate all of the drama that goes on between girls, and just all the drama in general. Things used to be different.
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Dazed & Dreaming {Ch. 1}
summary: Y/N's life was always quite normal, some may even consider it boring. However, Y/N enjoyed her simple life and the little pleasures it brought. Unfortunately, that all changed the day she found out her best friend's biggest secret. Her discovery leads her down a rabbit hole of a new and confusing world she never knew existed. She must now navigate this new life filled with love, fear, and the supernatural. What awaits her down this path?
pairing: enhypen x reader (vampire au)
warnings: light swearing
word count: 1,435
chapters: [Ch.2] [Ch.3] [Ch.4]
~~~~~~~~~~
The brisk autumn air pricked at your cheeks, making you shiver as you clutched your coat tighter around your body. You picked up your pace as your shoes tapped lightly against the pavement. Walking to school was nice this time of year, you loved the autumn scenery which was full of rich colors and leaves dancing in the wind. Winter on the other hand, was another story. It was also quite pretty, yet much more inconvenient and impractical. However, right now it was a pleasant walk.
Before you know it, you're at the entrance of your school, trudging up the stairs. Oh how you longed to be back in your warm, soft bed, asleep. You begrudgingly continued on your way when you heard a familiar voice ring out,
"Y/N! Wait up!"
You recognize the voice without even needing to turn around, it was Jake. Jake had been your best friend since he had moved here from Australia way back in middle school. He meant the world to you. You've grown so close over the years, he practically knows everything about you at this point. And you know all about him as well. You smiled and waved at the cheerful boy as he jogged to catch up with you. Slightly out of breath and with flushed cheeks, he greeted you,
"Good morninggg!" He drew out the last syllable with a dorky grin on his face. You giggled, he was always so cute without even trying.
"Good morning," you replied, happily.
"Kind of chilly this morning, huh? Did you walk to school again?" He asked.
"Yeah, I did. I always walk to school, you know that," you chuckled at his silly question.
"You knowww," he began,
Oh boy here we go, you thought.
"Heeseung would totally give you a ride to school if you'd like," he stated. Jake had made this offer to you a few times, however, you always declined. Heeseung was a close friend of Jake's yet he was merely an acquaintance to you at best, you would feel bad having him drive you around. Especially since he already gave Jake rides every morning.
Also not to mention, you found Heeseung incredibly attractive and you don't think your heart could handle that...
"No that's okay, I wouldn't want to impose," you politely declined like always. Jake sighed. You were always so considerate, almost to a fault.
"Y/N, Heeseung totally wouldn't mind, he isn't like that, you know." He smiled, trying to convince you to accept the offer. Especially, knowing that winter was just around the corner.
"I know...I just would rather not," you said trying to escape the topic as your cheeks began to heat up. Jake sighed defeatedly and decided to let it go as you both continued your way into the building.
*****
The end of the day couldn't come soon enough as you headed towards your final class; physics. Yay. You've always hated physics and although you were a straight A student, your grades suffered in that class. Thankfully, Jake was quite good at physics and was always happy to help. Over time, he basically became your tutor. You scanned the front board to see what the topic of the lesson was today. Like usual, you couldn't make sense of any of it. God, I wish I had Jake's brain, you thought to yourself.
As much as you tried not to, you ended up tuning out the teacher and his lecture as your mind wandered to anything but physics. Before you knew it, class was over and students began gathering their books and shuffling out of the classroom. Shit. I didn't pay attention to any of that. You mentally kicked yourself for slacking off. Well, at least the school day is over. You headed back to your locker where you saw Jake waiting for you.
"Hey Y/N, how was physics? I know it's your favorite class," he said sarcastically.
"Shut up," you slapped him playfully on the arm, "I actually totally zoned out the whole period. Therefore, I'm lost and you really have your work cut out for you as my tutor," you retorted.
He laughed and shook his head, "Y/N, you're killing me!" He said while jokingly clutching his chest in imaginary pain.
"I know, I know, I'm sorry I should honestly be paying you at this point," you laughed.
"Nah don't worry about it, I'm happy to help," he said. Gosh he's so sweet, you thought. Sometimes you felt like you didn't deserve him. But if you ever dared to say that out loud, you know you would receive an immediate rebuttal from him. Because that's just how Jake is.
*****
*BZZZ* *BZZZ* * BZZZ*
You rolled over and groaned. Ughhh, it's already time to get up? You had stayed up later than usual the night before. You had been facetiming with Jake as he tried to explain your physics homework to you. Unfortunately, it took you quite a while to understand it since you hadn't paid attention in class earlier that day.
Just 5 more minutes...you thought as you lazily snoozed your alarm.
*****
Your eyes fluttered open as you awoke for the second time. Hm, that's weird. Why didn't my alarm go off yet? You grabbed your phone to check the time. You squinted as your eyes adjusted to the bright screen. Oh shit. You had overslept for 45 minutes. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. You mentally cursed at yourself as you scrambled to get ready in half the time you usually do. You frantically threw on your school uniform and hurried to the bathroom to brush you teeth. You gasped as you saw your reflection. You had the worst bed head you had EVER seen. Just my luck. You quickly threw your hair up into a half updo. Guess I'm going for the messy look today. You hurried downstairs and grabbed a granola bar on your way out. You headed down your driveway only to see a car parked on the side of the road right in front of your house. You were a bit confused but as you got closer you were met with two familiar faces. Oh no. This is Heeseung's car. Your stomach did a backflip. Heeseung smiled and gave a small wave as Jake greeted you from the passenger seat,
"Hey, Y/N! Sorry for the surprise, I knew you would never accept the ride but the weather's getting colder and I don't want you to get sick," Jake rambled.
"Jake told me that you walk to school every morning, but I don't mind giving you a ride, it's no problem at all," Heeseung added with a kind smile.
You appreciated the kind gesture, however, you were mortified. Here you were, looking like the hottest mess of the century in front of the hottest boy of the century. This can't be happening. Of all days, why today?!
You smiled meekly, "Wow, uh, thank you that's very kind of you! I guess I'll take you up on that offer since you already went out of your way to come here," you said apologetically. The two boys smiled at you as you opened the car door and climbed into the back seat.
*****
So far, the ride had been fairly quiet until Jake suddenly broke the silence,
"Y/N, did you do something different with your hair?" Jake asked as he turned around to face you.
God, why did he have to bring that up??
"Uh, yeah, I actually woke up late and my hair was a mess so I just tried to make the best of it," you laughed nervously.
"Ohh, well it looks nice!" he complimented.
"Yeah, you look cute." Heeseung added with his eyes still on the road.
You froze. Your brain began malfunctioning as you tried to compute what Heeseung just said. He called me cute. You chuckled anxiously as you felt your cheeks burning up.
"Thank you," you said shyly.
Jake had noticed your abrupt change in body language, which confused him. But then, it all clicked. Oh...She has a crush on Heeseung. He didn't know how he hadn't noticed it sooner. He grinned to himself, amused by his realization. Suddenly, it made sense why you never accepted a ride.
~~~~~~~~~~
Hi, guys! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! I know it was a bit slow, but once the introductory part is out of the way, hopefully things will pick up the pace. Regardless, thank you for reading! I am also uploading this series on wattpad, so if you’d like to support it over there, that would mean a lot! I'm hoping to publish new chapters a couple times a week so keep your eyes peeled hehehe
~Elle <3
#kpop#enhypen#enhypen x reader#enha x reader#kpop writing#enhypen imagines#enhypen scenarios#enhypen vampire#vampire au#enhypen heeseung#enhypen jake#enhypen jay#enhypen sunghoon#enhypen sunoo#enhypen jungwon#enhypen niki#heeseung#sunghoon#jungwon#sunoo#niki#jay#jake#heeseung x reader#sunghoon x reader#jungwon x reader#sunoo x reader#niki x reader#jay x reader#jake x reader
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May I request 41 - First Kiss and 94 - Hair Brushing/Braiding for the Leverage OT3, please? (Also extra bonus points if you give Eliot beads in his hair like in The Ice Man Job, because we didn't get NEARLY enough of that in the show) Thank you!
I cannot believe I wrote this whole thing out and then never published it. I’m so sorry, it’s been at least twenty-four years since you sent in this ask, please accept my humble apologies and also this ficlet.
However, this prompt is just pure fluff, and I hate to tell you this but I am not a fluff writer. I just can’t pull off that unadulterated sweetness. I am in this fandom for the shenanigans, first, last and foremost! So this fic is now a 5+1 of Eliot and Parker trying to seduce Hardison.
1. Parker thinks they need to give him gifts, so she goes through her stash and picks out the largest, fanciest jewel she’s ever stolen. Then she realizes: Hardison likes stories. He spends hours giving their aliases histories and pets and allergies and favorite foods, he can get a whole sordid history of jealousy and betrayal from a single corporate email chain, and Parker knows for a cold fact that he writes little stories with his online friends about being wizards together.
She goes through her stash again and picks out the most cursed thing she’s ever stolen.
It’s a jeweled statuette, almost as tall as her forearm, made of gold and studded with precious and semi-precious stones. Mysterious deaths have befallen five separate owners of this thing. Its base is dented from the time it was used to bludgeon Owner Number Three to death. The tiny rubies it has for eyes follow you across the room.
Parker puts a bow on it and leaves it in Hardison’s room while he’s sleeping. He wakes up to this horrible little statue watching him from his bedside table.
He texts the group chat, Hey did anyone put an evil little gold guy in my bedroom last night? But Parker chickens out and says nothing (drunkenly betting Eliot that she can seduce Hardison is one thing, but admitting that she likes him is something else altogether). Everyone else texts back variations on “nope.” (Except Sophie, who just sends back a string of heart eyes emojis and a wikipedia link. She loves cursed artifacts.) So Hardison puts the statue away in a closet somewhere and figures he’ll deal with it later.
Parker is mildly offended that he put her gift in a closet. She goes into his room the next night and puts it back on the bedside table, where it clearly belongs.
This goes on for a week. Hardison puts the statue in a desk drawer, then in one of the cabinets in the office downstairs, then in the dumpster down the street. Every day he wakes up to those glittering red eyes watching him sleep. He’s asked his internet buddies if anyone knows a good exorcist. Hardison doesn’t really believe in curses, but also? What the fuck. What the fuck.
~
2. Eliot assumes the drunken bet will be forgotten by morning. What kind of world would it be if people always followed through on promises they made while they could barely stay vertical? So he spends the morning nursing his hangover and cleaning his knives. Cleaning guns is no good while hungover—all the snaps and clicks of popping things in and out of place sound like actual gunfire when you’re hungover, it’s a nightmare—but knives are quiet and have no moving parts. Buffing and polishing them is soothingly repetitive work, and every once in a while he can throw one at one of the dartboards on the walls and reassure himself that his reflexes are still sound even after that much tequila.
It’s only when he gets Hardison’s text about the golden statuette that magically appeared in his room overnight that Eliot realizes Parker’s actually going for it. After some internal debate about whether he’s going to stoop to this or not, Eliot decides what the hell and starts making plans.
Eliot agrees that gifts are the way to go, but not stolen gifts. Not things. Anyone can give a thing. Proper wooing is about giving experiences.
Eliot plans for three days. On the fourth day, he and Hardison have their irregularly scheduled monthly coffee date, and Eliot texts him beforehand to say he wants to do it at the brewpub this time. Hardison arrives to find a deceptively simple meal: basic country fare perfected through years of experimentation, made with the best ingredients Eliot can get his hands on. And Eliot, after all, is still a retrieval specialist. There’s very little in the world he can’t get his hands on.
And yet the night ends and somehow he has not gotten his hands on Hardison.
This is just not right. Eliot knows how to deploy a smolder, okay, Tangled reference aside he is damn good at flirting and he knows the looks he’s giving Hardison are clear as day. It’d be one thing if Hardison had turned him down, or if he’d been uneasily unwilling, or even if his eyes had widened slightly in suppressed panic and he’d abruptly found a reason to leave. Eliot can take rejection, bet or no, and he’d have bowed out graciously without a fuss. But this was much, much worse.
Hardison didn’t even notice he was flirting.
He’s going to have to up his game.
~
3. “How do you seduce people?” Parker asks bluntly, turning up at Sophie’s door just past midnight.
Sophie, despite the hour, is utterly delighted by the question.
This goes as well as you would expect.
~
4. Eliot’s taken a lot of dates to sports games. Hardison may prefer sparkly elves with purple lightning magic to a decent MMA fight, but baseball is the American pastime. Eliot gets them perfect seats, hot dogs from the best vendor in the stadium, even chilled beer that he smuggles in without letting it get warm. It’s going to be a perfect game.
And it is. At first. Hardison, it turns out, has a lot of opinions about baseball. What he does not have is an understanding of the rules. They’re not even into the second inning by the time Eliot finally snaps and starts arguing with him about it.
They make it all the way to the fifth inning before Eliot realizes that Hardison’s basing his complaints off the rules of a game from a Star Wars novel.
They’re at the bottom of the eighth before Eliot will speak to him again.
~
5. Eliot and Parker are drunk again. This is not intentional. They didn’t even mean to come to this bar, but the smoothie place with the fried oreos that Eliot had brought Parker here to try was playing such incredibly bad music that they’d ordered the oreos to go and fled. The bar was just the coziest looking place on the block, and of course they’d ordered drinks to avoid being rude––Eliot had entertained himself for a few minutes scouring the menu for something that would pair well with fried oreos and popcorn chicken.
And now they’re drunk. The conversation has, perhaps inevitably, turned to the ongoing bet.
“I tried everything!” Parker wails. “I laughed at every joke, I touched my hair constantly, I got him talking about things he likes.” She thunks her forehead on the bar. “All that happened is now I know the complete history of orcs in western literature.”
“Hardison wouldn’t know flirting if it pinched him on the ass,” Eliot grumbles.
Parker slaps his arm. “No pinching Hardison!”
“I’m not going to—I don’t pinch people!”
Parker’s ignoring him. Eliot pouts and takes another sip of his drink. He’s not entirely sure what this one is––it’s blue and kind of fizzy, that’s all he can say for sure. Parker took over the drinks menu several glasses ago, and she’s been picking them based on what has the most fun name to say. Eliot’s pretty sure the alcohol content’s been doubling with each order.
“Eliot,” Parker slurs, “we need to work together.”
“What?”
Parker lifts her head from the bar and frowns at him, the way she does when she’s figured out the obvious solution and is just waiting for everyone else to get on the same page. It’s adorable. It’s always adorable, but right now her eyes are wide and slightly unfocused from the alcohol and she’s listing sideways a little, almost as if she’s unbalanced, and it is the most adorable thing Eliot has ever seen. Parker’s never unbalanced, but some part of Eliot’s fuzzy brain thinks she’s about to fall on top of him and cannot wait to catch her.
“You can’t seduce Hardison,” Parker points out. Eliot is drunk enough to get offended by this, but too drunk to get out a complaint before she continues, “I can’t seduce Hardison. But if we work together, the two of us can definitely seduce Hardison. Together.”
Eliot stares at her. Then he takes another sip of his fizzy blue drink. Later, when questioned, he will blame his next words on that drink.
“Worth a shot.”
They take Hardison to a movie. They research for three weeks beforehand. They find the best movie theater in town, with the nicest seats, the biggest screens, and concession snacks that Hardison likes, and they buy tickets for the midnight premiere of the superhero movie that Hardison hasn’t shut up about for the past month. Parker even hacks into the theater’s computers in a last-minute fit of nerves and cross-references the credit cards with drivers’ licenses to make sure the people sitting in front of them won’t be too tall.
Parker witnesses a kidnapping in the parking lot while the boys are getting popcorn. They don’t even stay long enough to catch the commercials.
~
+ 1. “Hey Eliot,” Hardison says during movie night, a little over a week later. “Remember the Ice Man Job?”
Eliot groans. “I try not to.”
Hardison throws a piece of popcorn at his face. “Shut up. Remember how you did your hair for that one? With the little—those little beads on, like, a braid?”
Eliot shoots Hardison a suspicious glance. “Yeah, I remember.”
“Teach me how to do that.”
Eliot shoots Hardison another, more deliberate look, this one pointedly directed at Hardison’s complete lack of braidable locks.
Hardison rolls his eyes as if that’s a silly detail to get hung up on and leans forward to dig around in one of the boxes he has under his coffee table. He emerges with a ziplock bag of plastic beads in no time flat and hands it triumphantly to Eliot. Then he yanks a few cushions out from behind Parker, who’s sitting on his other side, and puts them on the floor in front of him. “Sit here?” he asks Parker, patting the cushion pile.
Parker takes a moment to consider being offended at having her cushions stolen, but curiosity gets the better of her and she just plops down between Hardison’s legs, grabbing the bowl of popcorn as she goes, and waits.
Hardison lifts her hair with sudden gentleness, drawing it over her shoulders and letting it fall down her back in a golden wave. His fingers brush against her neck. Parker shivers. Eliot is distantly aware that he’s gone perfectly still, focused with a hunter’s intensity on Hardison’s dark, graceful fingers carding through Parker’s hair.
Hardison leans back, hands on his knees, and Eliot breathes again. “Well?” Hardison looks over at Eliot, a tiny smirk of challenge on his lips. “Show me how it’s done.”
Eliot is suddenly, brutally aware of how close they are. Hardison’s couch is obscenely comfortable, which is half the reason movie nights are at Hardison’s in the first place, but it is not large. Their thighs are touching. Hardison leans away, to give Eliot access to Parker’s hair, and he’s still so close that Eliot would barely have to reach out a hand to—
Eliot ruthlessly shoves that thought down into the dark where it belongs. He dealt with this, he dealt with this years ago, and accepting Parker’s stupid bet doesn’t mean he’s forgotten the way Hardison and Parker look at each other. It just means he doesn’t mind losing for a good cause.
So he keeps his tone steady and his fingers brisk as he shows Hardison how to braid the clunky plastic beads into Parker’s hair, and if he flushes with heat when their hands brush each other, well, nobody has to know. He’s been trained to withstand eight different schools of torture. It won’t show on his face. His voice never once falters.
Parker has had no such training. Her lips have parted, and her breathing is shallow. She’s staring glassy-eyed at the TV. Hardison can’t see her face, sitting behind her, but Eliot watches her carefully, worried that they need to call this off. Parker’s not used to intimacy, to closeness that means something, and for all the three of them have spent half their movie nights literally on top of each other, this is something else. This has weight.
Eliot puts a hand on her shoulder, pressing down just enough that Parker startles and cants a glance over at him. Eliot raises his eyebrows in question, and Parker glares back: don’t you fucking dare. Eliot backs off. Hardison, frowning in concentration as he threads a wisp of Parker’s hair through a green bead, graciously pretends he didn’t see the exchange.
Hardison gets the hang of the beading fairly quickly, and Eliot shows him a few different techniques. He’s almost managed to convince himself that nothing is actually happening when Hardison says, conversationally, “You two are really bad at this.”
Eliot glowers his confusion. “At movie night? You started this, if you wanted to actually watch Alien then you shouldn’t have—”
Hardison’s smile is soft, but Eliot decides for his own safety to focus on the laughter at its edge. “No, at this.” And then he slides his hand onto Parker’s neck, caresses her cheek, and isn’t the slightest bit surprised when she gasps.
Parker whips around, and there’s hurt on her face but it dies in the glow of Hardison’s gentle, unteasing smile. Hardison pulls her up with the lightest of touches, and she goes, eyes fixed on his like salvation.
They kiss sweet and slow, and Eliot’s heart twists in his chest and he can’t breathe. He needs to leave now before he shatters in half, but if he moves then they will look at him, and he would rather never breathe again than meet their eyes right now.
Hardison breaks off the kiss, gazing at Parker with something just this side of wonder, and then he does look at Eliot. Eliot flinches. He opens his mouth to…say something, make some joke or hasty excuse and scramble out the door, but Hardison raises a hand to Eliot’s face, slides his long fingers to cup Eliot’s neck, and pulls him forward, as gently as he did Parker.
It’s a chaste kiss, no more than a soft press of lips, because Eliot is too stunned to respond and Hardison doesn’t push. It lasts a long time. A whole era of change happens in the span of that kiss, as everything Eliot thought he knew tears out of place and then settles, gingerly, into a new understanding.
Hardison pulls away, his hand still warm on the back of Eliot’s neck. His smile is pure sunshine. Eliot finds himself smiling back, helpless.
Hardison’s grin turns smug. “And that,” he says, looking between Eliot and Parker, “is how you do it. Y’all are disasters, honestly, I can’t believe two master criminals working together couldn’t manage a single real date—”
Eliot heaves a deep sigh and drags Hardison into a headlock, pinning his arms when he flails. Parker surges to her knees and starts tickling him mercilessly.
They don’t finish the movie.
#finx writes#I didn't quite get Eliot's hair in there but I hope this works anyway#leverage#leverage fic#leverage ot3
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Love your cyborg!Chuck fic!! Wondering about a thing that didn't get addressed much: Julie obviously knew? the whole time? and Chuck, presumably, also knew about her, and obviously they had a mutual secret-keeping pact...but is Mike ever going to wonder what was up with that? Or are we supposed to assume he's figured out, post-finale, that Julie is Kane's daughter? And any chance of a prologue of Kane presenting Chuck to Julie like (I imagine), "Happy birthday, Julie-bear! Have this cyborg"?
This has been in my inbox since I published my first cyborg Chuck fic ever, so like...(*checks the release date on Override 0*) four years, lord. And the drabble has been sitting in my documents for almost as long lol. Hopefully this gives some explanation as to how a valuable cyborg full of experimental KaneCo tech ended up slipping out from under Kane’s nose, lol.
--
"I got you something," says her dad, and Julie thinks--oh, another stuffed kitten plush, maybe, or maybe even another level of security clearance if she's lucky--
She's not lucky.
"Dad," she says, with brittle sweetness, because she really really hopes she's misunderstanding this situation. “What...exactly...is the present?"
Her dad snaps his fingers. The boy standing behind him jitters, tries to step forward, almost crumples over, stands again. He's twitching and shivering like he's got some kind of tic, but his eyes are the part that really freak Julie out. Lit up and flickering from the inside, but weirdly unfocused and too wide. He's staring into nothing, and he looks like he should be swaying, like he should be unsteady on his feet, but now that he's standing he's just...still. Barely breathing, hardly blinking.
"I've seen that you've been doing some programming," her dad starts, and Julie makes a tiny, involuntary noise, trying to hold in a slightly hysterical giggle. Her dad either doesn't hear or doesn't bother to be concerned. "--This was a failed experiment from research and development, but if you want to try to learn to code..."
"What do you mean, a 'failed experiment'?" says Julie. "Is he-- Are you--?"
The boy doesn't seem to hear her talking to him. Julie's dad laughs, indulgent. "A cyborg," he finishes for her. "A failed one. He's harmless." A wry twist of his lips and an edge to his voice--Julie can almost hear "...unfortunately". "...But his programming is extensive. Plenty to experiment with. He should be able to tell you what you're doing as you do it, he was a fairly acceptable technician before he fried his brain."
He gives the boy's shoulder a shove, and he staggers forward toward her, still staring at nothing. His lips are moving minutely, Julie can see now--he's murmuring almost silently.
"Transfer registration holder," says her dad, bored and authoritative, and for the first time the boy shudders and speaks.
"...Define registration holder," he says, in a high, young voice that almost makes Julie jump. Julie's dad looks at her expectantly. "Full name and credentials."
"Julie," says Julie numbly. "Julie...Kapulsky. Executive intern?" The old family name is a complete unknown in Deluxe at this point, and it's the one on Julie's citizenship record. It's the safer option, as strange as it feels to say the name out loud.
"Confirmed registration holder transfer," says the cyborg, "Julie Kapulsky." And then he goes silent and still again, staring dead-eyed into nothing.
Julie stands there for a second, and just kind of...internally screams. Okay. Okay. So...this is a cyborg, this is a human guy who looks not much older than Julie, with computer parts shoved in his skull, and her dad is...giving her this boy. To practice on.
"He should have enough brain left to take care of himself," her dad is saying, somewhere on the other end of a long tunnel, "If he's more trouble than he's worth, we can find...other uses for him."
On the one hand, if Julie accepts this, she's going to own another human being. Which is...wow, no. But on the other hand, if she doesn't, her dad is going to take him back, and find something else to do with him. And Julie doesn't honestly trust him not to do something awful and unconscionable with this guy, especially considering the way he sneered when he said "harmless".
He's smiling at her now. Horribly, Julie realizes he's waiting for Julie to thank him.
"Wow!" she says, and manages an almost convincing smile. "That's really something, d-- M-mister Kane!"
"You don't have to do that, Julie-bear," says her dad reassuringly, and gives the cyborg another push in her direction. "Your old man's not bad at coding, himself." He flashes her that strange, warm smile he does sometimes, so at odds with the words that come out of his mouth, the things he does. "...Anything he hears about who you are, he'll scrub out of his memory automatically. As far as he knows, you're just an exceptional intern."
"Thanks dad!" says Julie, with tight, manic brightness. "Cool! Really neat! I'll go and, and practice, now! Try him out!" She takes the boy's arm, pulling; he follows her lead, eyes still focused on nowhere and nothing. "Looks like a ton of fun, thanks!"
"You're welcome, sweetheart," says her dad, and pats her shoulder affectionately. "I'll see you for dinner tomorrow night. Don't be late."
"I won't!" says Julie, barely listening now. "I'll, yeah! See you! Thanks dad! Bye!"
She can't close the door fast enough.
--
"Can you hear me?"
It takes a second for him to respond; he stirs, blinking, and then his eyes re-focus just a little and he says "...Confirmed."
Geez, that's so weird. Julie holds his eyes for a brief second, looking for any sign of consciousness or comprehension--she doesn't see any. The cyborg stares at the floor for a second, then his eyes slowly slide out of focus again.
"Kane's gone," she tries, and she can't tell if the faint twitch of his features is recognition of what she said or just the automatic reaction to his registration holder speaking to him. "You can come back now."
"Invalid request," he murmurs.
"Do you..." Julie drags a hand through her hair, groans. She really doesn't want to dig into this guy's programming, doesn't want to have her hands on something that intimate when he hasn't given her permission--doesn't even seem to register she's there half the time, and can't imagine saying "no" to her when he does. "Do you have a rollback protocol?"
There's a moment of silence, and then the cyborg blinks. "...Confirmed," he says.
"Really?" Julie's heart leaps. "Okay, well--okay! Run rollback protocol!"
"One executive exception noted," he says, "Authorization; Abraham Kane."
"Can you roll back everything else?"
Blink. "Confirmed."
"Okay!" says Julie, with more confidence than she's really feeling right now. "So-- Do that."
"Confirmed." He looks around, eyes wandering, and then walks slowly to the nearest corner and leans against the wall. Slides down it, holding his knees, leans his head back against the wall and goes still. Occasionally, his eyes flicker again. Other than that, he's motionless.
He sits there for at least five minutes. Julie watches him for the first two or three, then goes and settles down on his bed, pulling up a screen and flicking cautiously through a few shopping catalogues. The flickering of his eyes catches her peripheral vision; first few and infrequent, then faster and faster until it's an almost-constant glow, dim through his eyelashes. And then he gives a sharp gasp, a jerk, and doubles forward, head resting on his pulled-up knees, making sharp little noises of unmistakable distress.
"Hey!" says Julie, and pushes herself up, hurrying across the room toward him. "Hey, are you okay?" And then, with a little more authority, "--you're okay. You're safe now, you're okay."
"Where--?!" The cyborg stares around, eyes round and panicky. "Kane, where-- They'll take, they'll make me-- Don't make me--"
"Whoa!" Julie says, and grabs his wrist, snags the other one, pulling his attention back to her. "Hey, look at me. You're safe.”
Slowly, he stops struggling, staring at her. His face is really pale, ashy with fear, and he's breathing too hard and too fast, like a cornered animal. "I'm," he says, and swallows hard, sniffs, turns his hands so he can grip her wrists. His hands are big and long-fingered, cold, trembling. "I, he said he'd-- They're not gonna?"
"No," says Julie, because god, she doesn't know what her dad said to this guy but thank god he handed him over to Julie instead. "No, nobody's going to hurt you or--or anything." It's dumb, it's--she doesn't own him, no matter what her dad says, but she still feels responsible, and he's huddling into the corner, he looks so scared. Julie reaches out, slow and careful as he flinches from her, and rubs his shoulders, squeezes his arms as he shakes. "He's gone," she says, slow and clear. "He's not going to hurt you, you're safe.”
The boy stares at her for another second, taking fast, panicky breaths, and then--oh, no. His chin crumples and his cheeks go red and blotchy and he just--collapses forward and clings to her, shaking all over, making awful little muffled noises into her shoulder. Julie holds him, dumbfounded and profoundly uncomfortable, and does her best to make comforting noises.
"Who?" he manages, finally, in a shaky little gasp, "Who, are, where am I? What happened?"
"I'm Julie," says Julie, and rubs one scarred forearm in a way she hopes is comforting.
"Chuck," says the cyborg, like a reflex, and scrubs at his nose with one hand, staring around her pod. "I'm, I'm Chuck? I'm Chuck." And then, wavering again, small with fear, "...why am I here? What's he gonna do with me?"
Oh. Shit. Well, it's a reasonable question, as much as she hates to give an answer. "He's not going to do anything with you," Julie says. "Kane uh. Gave you to me. Like, as a present? I'm sorry."
"Why would he give me...to you," says Chuck. There's a weird, focused look on his face, like he's struggling to work something out. "I'm, I, he trashed me, but, I'm a significant, I'm, expensive? Why you?"
Well, shit. Alright. There's no way Julie's going to keep him with her, up here, so she's going to have to pull some illegal stuff to get him free anyway... Julie licks her lips, hesitates, and then decides to take the plunge.
"My name is Julie...Kane," she says, and sees Chuck's eyes flash suddenly blazing blue, blinding. "I'm his daughter."
Chuck stares at her for a long, long second. Then a little longer, then, just, keeps staring.
"...Chuck?" says Julie.
"Huh?" says Chuck. "Sorry, I--uh, I, what did you say? I spaced out."
"I said, I'm Kane's daughter."
Again, a weird, silent moment. Then Chuck smiles vaguely and goes "Ha, sorry, what were we, uh..." foggy-eyed and distracted, and Julie's heart sinks. One executive exception noted. If her dad was going to make one thing permanent, of course it would be the protocol to keep Julie's identity secret. Chuck is starting to look pale, too, dizzy and bleary and strained. Julie shakes her head, shakes the thought off.
"You look like you could use some food," she says instead. "C’mon."
Chuck stares at her, blinking vaguely, and then nods a second late. "Sure," he says. "Yeah, uh...I...yeah. What were we...talking about?"
"It's not important," says Julie, and Chuck's eyes flash once, twice, and then go dim again. He nods.
"Okay," he says, and shakes his head, dismissing whatever he was thinking about. "Yeah. Yeah, I thought-- It's...not important."
#Writing Is Hard#He Scream At Own Car#The Princess#waited too long for this one and nobody remembers the fic it's for but here's this anyway lol#tanoraqui
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I thought about it
A lot. Really hard.
For one, I don't love the idea of the pixel art. But at the same time, I spend most of the time working at--whodda thunk--the pixel level, one pixel at a time. Sometimes I work with the frames zoomed in on my tablet. Of course I hate how they look. Of course at what, like eight hundred percent zoom, they look like garbage.
I took several minutes to look at some frames from my phone, from Tumblr, from Stitch Fiddle (I refuse to apologize for making pixel art on a cross-stitch pattern making platform). At the proper scale, I realize my color palettes are actually good, they work, they look good. They look how I would ideally illustrate if I was any good at digital art.
I'm starting to research and I didn't realize in 2019, traditional publishing venues were looking to take on graphic novels. I know I'm always a couple years out of sync with......... honestly, any kind of art trend, but I think if I worked really hard on my outline and I worked really hard on building a great query......... who knows.
It'd be extremely awesome to be able to pay the bills while I work on this. It'd probably be a dream come true to be able to focus on this. Plus, I might actually thrive under a little creative pressure. It might be fun..........orrr it might actually be stressful in a bad way. It probably wouldn't be like finals week in college--that's little sleep for a week so you can put the finishing touches on projects you were only assigned two weeks ago. I wouldn't procrastinate, but I probably wouldn't be able to live up to tight and stringent deadlines, and still set the quality assurance that I demand.
Maybe I should wait a while longer before trying to query an agent........ maybe I want to have more work finished before committing to bite off more than maybe I can chew. Ugh! But what if I could get what I feel to be a real job? What if I could make a living with my art?? What if I could take my computer back to work and say, "thanks for all the fish"??
What if, with the muscle of a big name in traditional publishing....... what if, with someone who has something to lose, what if???
But...... looking for an agent would be its own full-time job......... sharpening my query, sharpening my presentation--
Speaking of presentation--I spent a lot of time thinking about that too.
I grew up, came of age, creatively and socially, online. When I was between eighth and ninth grade, I searched high and low for an online, mobile community. I learned about keitei shosetsu and that was it. But when I gave up writing and became visual artist--everyone knows graphic novels come in panels and pages. I'm incapable. I thought about it really hard, and it doesn't really suit my style. I tried really hard, but I constantly over-thought and it never felt right, never looked good.
I've found my niche!!!! I can make art, tell a story, and I think it's perfect for mobile. But I wouldn't say no to grouping the frames into strips by pages and spreads, seeing my work on paper.
Knowing that traditional publishing may be an option, knowing that I have a unique style that could be just the thing somebody's looking for--man, that's almost motivation enough. I want to try to work really hard to finish the outline, and then I want to try to also work really hard to get at least the linework up to the part where Kitty arrives at the school. I hope I can find an agent who enjoys a click-through graphic novel as much as I do.
Still got a mountain of work in front of me.
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Chapter Three - Percy Jackson x Reader
| percy’s adventure to the top of the world
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a/n; sorry about this chapter being so late! The entire book is basically published on my wattpad account if you want to check that out. Thank you so much for the feedback though! I am pleasantly suprised!
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It just hits noon on Sunday when Percy gets the text.
It's still the same exact name that she entered in sophomore year, still a plaintive "Y/N L/N" with the tiny description under it that's originally used for company names written as Chemistry Class. Percy narrows his eyes and checks the number in his contacts just to make sure Luke hasn't changed his name to mess with him, and eventually accepts the fact that Y/N's texted him, for whatever reason.
" Hi," it says. That's it.
Percy pushes his phone aside and keeps up his attempts at finishing his essay. English 4 is supposed to be easy, he complains mentally. At this rate, he won't graduate.
Despite his extremely studious research (in which he was both reading Wikipedia articles and playing Solitaire, that is), he still has no clue why Mark Twain was so important as far as literature goes. He does, however, come to the conclusion that he'll never be good at Solitaire.
Percy selects a sentence from the Wikipedia article and pastes it directly into his essay. He modifies it, putting the end of the sentence at the beginning, and exchanges the words "light and humorous" to say "light-hearted." A true genius, he is.
Before he can decide where to go from there, Percy glances over to his phone, biting down on his bottom lip. It's not that he doesn't want to talk to Y/N—since Friday, he's kind of wanted to talk to her non-stop—but he didn't expect her to text first. It admittedly throws him off.
What would Mark Twain do? Percy thinks idly, staring at the guy's name where it sits, bolded, at the top of his paper. For one, Mark Twain wasn't ever introduced to cellphones, so he probably wouldn't even know how to reply to the text, even if he wanted to. And, for two, Mark Twain doesn't really seem like the kind of man who would talk to the girl he likes over text. Percy gets the vibe that he's a really old-fashioned, straightforward type of guy.
Leaning back in his desk chair to stretch, Percy groans. Thinking about Mark Twain probably won't get him through this one.
He replies with a "Hey there," momentarily panicking at how flirtatious it sounds. He tries to cover it up with a "Y/N, right?"
It apparently works, since she sends back a "Yeah, it is. I didn't know if you had my number anymore."
"Wouldn't have deleted it," Percy types immediately. He's hovering over the blue button, considering going with something else—less heartfelt, maybe—to respond with, but instead he accidentally hits send. Wonderful. Out of curiosity, he scrolls up past the texts they're exchanging now and reads through the ones they sent before. He hardly remembers the near two-year old conversations, mostly homework questions or him wondering if there's a test the next day, but there's a few that are just... nice, for lack of a better word. Caring little how are yous from him and some remember to bring your book to classes from her. Percy wishes he could remember why he didn't try to get in touch with her that summer, and now he feels sorry that he didn't—after all, he could have been someone to talk to when she was going through a mess with her parents.
He wants to apologize for it, suddenly, but he figures Y/N would either shrug it off or tell him ten times over that it isn't his fault. He doesn't bother.
"That's comforting." Percy blinks at Y/N's reply, but she doesn't give him a chance to reply before another text comes through. "Are you busy?"
He smiles a little at his phone. Sure, he totally has this essay due tomorrow that'll take him a few hours at the very least, but Y/N's far more interesting and appealing than Mark Twain's influence on literature. not at all, he sends.
"I could use a little help with economics, if you're up for it..."
Economics is by far Percy's easiest class this year, but he doubts he's better at it than Y/N. He doesn't mention that.
"Sure," he replies. "but you're gonna have to tell me everything you know about Mark Twain."
She sends two question marks back, but tacks on a Deal a second later.
"where at?" Percy asks, holding his phone about an inch away from his face. It's likely that he's one of the more pathetic people in this world.
"Yours? I can't say that my house is the most welcoming of places for guests," Y/N says, and Percy frowns a little at that. He doesn't waste any time before sending her his address and telling her to come over whenever she feels like it. He doesn't really say it, but it's an invitation for any day—not just a Sunday where they both have homework to get done.
She gives him an estimated arrival time anyways, so Percy spends his remaining moments wisely by hopping in the shower and letting his mom know that he's having a friend over. She's cooped up in her small little cranny of an office, feet tucked beneath her as she types away on her laptop, glasses perched on the tip of her nose and a cooled cup of tea at her elbow. "Of course, that's fine Percy. You can have Luke over whenever, you know. No need to keep asking."
"It's—" Percy hesitates, leaning his temple on the door frame he's leaning against. "Um, not Luke this time."
That gets his mother's attention. She turns to him with a pleased smile. "Oh, what a surprise! I haven't seen Nico in ages, I should put some cookies in."
Percy chuckles, pushing his still-damp hair out of his eyes. "Not Nico, either. It's Y/N—remember, my chem partner? Came over once for our research paper?"
Sally gives him a maternal grin, lifting her eyebrows. "Oh, I always liked her." She redirects her gaze to her computer. "I had a feeling I wasn't the only one, either."
"Mom," Percy warns.
She holds her hands up, a clear white flag. "I'm not suggesting anything. Just your dear old Mom over here, typing up a novel."
"It'll be the best one yet," Percy says, since he knows Mom thrives under encouragement. "I have a feeling. It'll be the one."
"You think?" Sally asks, and she sounds excited, like she agrees. Percy nods with a grin. "Oh, that would be so great, I—" The doorbell dings throughout their home, and his mom's mouth snaps shut. "That would be for you, I'm guessing. Let me know if you need anything, sweetie."
"Thanks, Mom," Percy says, but he makes sure to shut her office door, partially to preserve his privacy, but mostly because he knows his mom needs isolation when she's in writing mode. He gets the door.
Y/N's dressed casually, which is something Percy hadn't even considered; he tossed on track pants out of habit. "Hey," he greets, after a sure but still moment of silence. "Come on in."
"Hi. Thanks."
Percy shrugs mutely, closing the door behind her. He can definitely, one hundred per cent, handle Y/N's presence for a few hours, especially after a good night of sleep and a day spent lazing around. "Thirsty?"
"Water would be great," she answers, and it's a little awkward for a few seconds while Percy leads them into the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets for a cup. He usually drinks out of the old, stained plastic ones, but he thinks Y/N probably deserves better as a guest. Eventually, he spots a light blue glass from a dining set they had two houses ago. He pulls it down. "How's your weekend been? Well, since the fair, anyways."
Percy clears his throat, like it'll clear the weird tension in the air, too. "'S been nice. Wish the fair was here for longer, to be honest."
"There's always next year," she says optimistically. He passes off the glass of water, and as she takes it from him, Percy realizes that he didn't bother to ask if she wanted ice. He almost feels rude for a second, but Y/N takes a grateful sip and sends him a little smile, so he guesses that he did alright. "Anyways, economics."
"Right, economics." Percy shakes himself. He should focus on the actual intention of Y/N's visit, not whether or not she'll get huffy about a few ice cubes. "What chapter are you guys on?"
"We have the same teacher, I'm pretty sure—Mr. Manassa?" Percy nods. "My class just started the chapter on supply."
Percy mentally sighs in relief. Supply is something he understands, so he won't look like an idiot. He uses his right thumb to rub at the palm of his left hand, grimacing when he realizes his hands are clammy. "Yeah, same. We can—in the living room, if you want?"
"Fine by me," Y/N replies, and Percy swallows past the weird, sudden dryness in his throat. It's like he's never seen an attractive human before. Christ. "I started reading the chapter, but it just sounds like gibberish. I hate the way the book's written."
"Really?" Percy's actually read a bit of the chapters, since he didn't think the writing was too excruciating, but to each their own. "I don't know, I kind of like it."
"Good, then. Hopefully you can help me make sense of it." She sits on the couch beside him—not really close, but not really far either, and Percy feels himself settling in more, the jitters wearing off. He knows Y/N, is the thing, and it's not even the first time she's sat on his couch while they do school work together. She puts her backpack on the floor and digs out her green economics book, the same one Percy has stuffed underneath his bed. "Have you done the chapter work?"
"What?"
"The chapter work," Y/N repeats, and if Percy didn't know her, he probably wouldn't have noticed how amused she was at his lack of attention. "The work that's due tomorrow."
"Oh, yeah, that," Percy mumbles. Truth be told, he hasn't been doing much at all besides binge-watching old H2O (I had too) episodes on Netflix and playing games on his phone—well, that and a bit of Mark Twain research this morning. "I started it."
"I'm sure," she says, and her tone's some brand of teasing. She peers around, like she's looking for something in particular. "You can go get your backpack, you know."
"I know," Percy replies quickly, sounding a lot more annoyed than he really is. "I was getting there."
Y/N laughs. Percy stands up before he makes the mistake of staring.
He returns with his laptop tucked under his arm, Mark Twain paper still up and sharing the screen with his game of Solitaire. Y/N looks like she might have a laugh at his expense when she sees it, but instead she says, "Explain the difference between supply and quantity supplied to me, please."
And, honestly, Percy's never been in the business of rejecting polite people. He explains to her heart's content.
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tags; @ohmygoditsanthonyedwardstark and @25-and-a-half-bards
masterlist
#percy jackson x reader#percy x reader#percy jackson#PJO#anmarauder writings#percy's journey to the top of the world
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Chapter 2-Heartbeat
I woke up this morning with a huge headache, and immediately took some pills for it. After eating some cereal and doing my daily morning routine, I searched for some jobs on the internet, but no job struck my interest.
Sigh. Guess it's back to being jobless. Now I have to go into town to look for jobs.
I got my keys and locked the door behind me before jumping in the car, and headed straight to town.
~Unknowns pov
"Sir, the Blood Moon palace invited you to their annual ball in two months' time. Do you want to accept their invite?"
"What does that mean? Do they want something from us?"
"Sir, in my opinion, I think they want to find our weak spots."
"Why? They are always causing trouble..."
"Sir, if the Red Raven palace has a queen, then that will mean that you are responsible enough to rule this palace, and they won't try anything, if not, then they will surely try to take over this palace when we won't see it coming. They are our neighbouring palace, after all."
"Is it because Jin should have been king and not me? They already know the reason why Jin can't be crowned king. They should leave it be. We do not have a queen yet, so what must I do?"
"I do not know, sir."
I should seriously give more attention about this situation. I should find the next queen.
"Maybe I should stop searching for my soulmate, and just pick a wife already."
At least that sweet smell is gone so I can focus more clearly. The previous night I couldn't sleep at all, the smell was too strong. It's an addictive smell that I couldn't get enough of.
The whole day I was busy working. I'm trying to get all my work done in the palace so that I can make time to find the new queen. I hate this so much. Everyone has a right to choose the one they want to marry, soul-mate or not.
It's 7 o'clock now, and her smell is back again. Great, now I can't focus on my work again. I might just as well stop for today.
I switch my computer off, and walk out my study, looking for my cousins. I walk through the mansion, walking through passages until I find them in Jin's bedroom. They all turn around and stare at me for a few seconds, and then they all came crashing into me. Oh how I miss them sometimes.
"Yoongi! You're back! We missed you so much!" Jungkook, the youngest said. I smiled at him and messed his hair up.
"How is the work going?" Jin said. He is older than me, which means that he should've been crowned king, but there was an accident, and he couldn't become king, which meant that I am next in line for the crown because I am the second oldest of the seven royal blood relatives.
Jimin, Hoseok, Taehyung and Namjoon hugged me too. Me, Jin and Namjoon sat on the bed while Jimin and Taehyung sat on the two couches next to the bed, and Jungkook and Hoseok sat on the gaming chairs, competing against each other in a game I don't know anything about.
I told them about my decision to get a wife instead of waiting for my soulmate, because reality is, I don't even know if I will ever find her. This is the best feeling in the world for me. To have my cousins around and talk to them. It relaxes me.
But tonight I couldn't relax. That sweet smell is back. It feels like its calling me, singing a lullaby to me. The smell is so alluring...
"Yoongi..? Are you okay?" Taehyung asked me. He can always see through me.
"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just that since yesterday morning, I could smell this sweet smell, almost like roses, and no one else can smell it. It's driving me insane. It's like the smell is calling me to follow it."
"Maybe you should follow it. See where it leads you." Jimin said with a smug on his face.
"I was thinking of going tonight. It's very strange, because it leads to this girl that is living in that old house a couple miles from the palace."
"A girl? Hey, maybe it's your brain telling you that you need blood." Jungkook said, still looking at the big gaming screen.
"Yeah, maybe. Last time I drank blood was two weeks ago."
"Yoongi. You should have blood once every week. You can't skip. You should be healthy." Jin scolded.
"I know, I was just too busy with the palace. I'll drink some blood tonight."
"Good."
There was a moment of silence when Jin spoke up,
"About the whole wife thing...I don't think you should stop searching for your soulmate. Maybe she is closer than you think."
"okay, thanks Jin."
Tonight is the night I hunt, and she will be my next victim.
~Her pov
No job. Great.
I need a walk to clear my head.
I quickly stood up from the couch, grabbed my walking shoes, and closed the door after me, walking the same path as yesterday.
I looked around me, noticing new things that I didn't see last time.
Next thing I knew, it was dark out. I didn't mind though. I walked some more, until I heard some leaves rustling. That didn't sound like it was the wind that blew it.
I stopped in my tracks, looking around me. Searching for the sound again. All I could hear was the wind lightly blowing, giving me chills. I heard a cricket far in the distance. Suddenly I heard something move behind me. My heart started beating quicker. I turned in circles, trying to find the source of movement, but nothing was there.
Then I felt a cold breath next to my neck, and quickly turned around, but still there is nothing. What is going on?
I didn't know that my heartbeat could be any quicker, but it was. Then I felt it again. The breath, but this time, I felt something right behind me. I felt the blood draining from my body. I was trembling, but didn't do anything. Just stood there. I couldn't move because I was too afraid of doing so. The person behind me put their hands on my hips, and then I felt something penetrate my skin on my neck. I felt the warmth leaving my body, and got very dizzy. My knees buckled under me, making me fall, but the hands holding my hips held me up.
I felt the pressure on my neck being relieved, and the person just stood behind me, still holding me up, doing nothing.
"...are you..my..."
I then felt him smelling me. What the hell is going on, I can't even see who this person is that is smelling me! Who does that!
I then felt drowsy and heavy, and closed my eyes. Tired. Sleep.
But before I went into a deep sleep, I heard the person whispering something to himself that made me very confused. After he said this word, everything was going dark, and I just let him carry me.
"....soulmate?"
Thank you for reading! I publish this book on wattpad as well, and there are more chapters published there! Don't worry, I will update on tumblr as well. I will update every thursday and saterday💜💜💜
#bts#방탄소년단 (bts)#방탄소년단#방탄소년단슈가#비티에스#min yoongi#yoongi x oc#yoongi x reader#yoongi fanfic#bts angst#bts fanfic#bts vampire au#yoongi fluff#suga x reader#suga fanfic#suga x oc#bts suga#bts agust d#agust d#wattpad#fanfic#fanfiction
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Antithetical -part 1 (Hawthorne!Michael)
//NOTE// I haven’t written fanfiction since I was thirteen, so it’s been almost five years since I’ve published any of my work. I apologize for the poorly written first part, I’m getting back into the feel of writing. I assure you the next few parts will be much more fulfilling on your end :) The point of view also switches from first to third person slightly, I felt it flows just a tad bit better that way. Also* I currently do not own a computer, and it is hard to edit and write on my phone, but it’s all I have at the current moment, so I apologize for any mistakes.
Warning: Slight angst
Summary: After Robichaux’s supreme, Cordelia Foxx, allows Hawthorne’s own Boy Wonder, Michael Langdon, to attempt the test of the Seven Wonders, y/n has a problem accepting that. She will stop at nothing to prove he is anything but the next supreme, even if that means attempting the test herself.
Words: 1.3k
xx
There was no way in hell I was going to accept this. In what world did Cordelia believe that of all people, Michael Langdon was the next supreme? What led her to make that kind of monstrous decision? I had never in my time at Robichaux's believed that Cordelia could be so blind to Michael's true nature. I stormed into the kitchen, knowing that was where Cordelia resided at the current moment. "Please don't tell me you're this blinded Cordelia!" I exasperated, nearly out of breath due to the hike from my bedroom upstairs. I had hardly noticed the presence of the tall boy beside Cordelia before I heard the small chuckle. My eyes adverted from Cordelia to the no younger than twenty year-old boy. Looking him up and down I came to a conclusion, this must be him. "Do not start with me y/n, I know what's best for the future of this coven." Rebutted Cordelia, already fed up with the way the young witch was speaking to her. Had this coven lost all sense of respect recently?
"And what's best for this coven?" I replied, "him?" Pointing towards the shaggy-haired dirty blonde beside the supreme, noticing the slight smirk adorning his prominent features. "Because I can sure as hell promise you that he's not." Cordelia huffed, "You have no place in this decision y/n. Michael will take the test, and you will accept it."
"I refuse to believe you're this in the dark, you and I both know that no boy has the powers, the ability, to be supreme." I felt my face beginning to turn a light shade of pink, but before Cordelia could remark, Michael took a step forward, his long arms held behind his back. "Well you're quite right, Miss, y/n was it?" Taking another step further, I noticed his form. Prestigious. His long torso covered by a dark blazer, no wrinkle in sight. His pale neck decorated with a tightly ironed thin bow. Black slacks adorning his lengthy legs, and his shoes, not a scratch on the leather. If I had not been so fed up with the boy, I might even say he was attractive. "Oh I can assure you I'm not your supreme, I'm your Alpha." The smirk had made itself prominent this time, his ice blue eyes staring straight into mine.
I had nearly hissed at the thought, "You are not my Alpha, I can assure you of that." My words dripping with anger, who did he think he was speaking to me like that? I could practically feel his over inflated ego radiating off of him. Never in my life had I felt such an incessant urge to hit another person, but he brought this anger out of me that even I didn't know I had. "What do you suppose we do Miss y/l/n? Michael possesses all the abilities to take the test, no warlock has ever reached a level four." Cordelia interrupted before they could go any further, my mouth opened, only to close again. Raking my mind for any sort of idea, any way to stop this. That was all Cordelia needed to get back to her conversation prior to the young witch intruding in. There was no way I was going to allow Michael fucking Langdon become my next supreme. " Now as we were say-" I quickly cut my supreme off.
"Me."
Ms. Foxx looked taken aback, "I'm sorry, what?" "Me." I was determined to prove Michael was not the future of this coven, even if it meant risking my own life. "What are you saying Miss y/l/n?" "I'm saying let me take the test too. I possess each ability Michael does, I've been studying for far longer, I'm more qualified." Michael laughed at this, earning a glare from myself. Looking back to Cordelia, I noticed the hesitant look coming from the older woman. "Please Cordelia, let me prove to you that I'm right, if anyone is the future of our coven it may as well be me."
"y/n you do realize only one of you will make it out of this? You do realize you are not only risking failing, but losing your life as well?" Even though Cordelia seemed frustrated with her student today, she most definitely did not want to watch her fail, especially if a possibility was death. "I know what I'm risking Cordelia, but this coven means to much to me not to try." The blonde woman took a moment, thinking over this new proposition. If y/n were able to complete the test then she had no worries, knowing fully well that the young witch could lead the future of her coven.
"Fine, you may take the test. Sunday at noon I expect each of you to be ready, the test will be taken at Hawthorne." With that Cordelia left the room to think further on the decision she made, was it the right one? "You won't beat me," y/n turned towards the voice, "And why do you say that?" My eyes meeting his blue ones for the second time today. "Call it the devils intuition," that damn smirk again, but I could sense a deeper meaning to his simple words. I would be lying if I said it didn't send a shiver down my spine. Trying to look unaffected by his words I uncrossed my arms from my chest, stepping forward. My chest nearly touching his broad one. Well looks like I'm just gonna have to study extra hard then." Of course Michael was unaffected by her words, "See you Sunday." He replied, an obvious sarcastic smile spread across his face as he walked away.
It was then that I realized what I had done, the reality of the situation had dawned upon me. "What am I doing?" I whispered to myself, bringing my hands going up to my hair, pulling in frustration. I wasn't ready for this, why did I let my pride get ahead of me? Didn't I realize that I was in over my head? Huffing, I stormed up to my room, determined to study as much as I possibly could before the test in five days. There was no way I was going to let Michael know of my doubts, I had to prove them wrong. I'd be damned if I failed my coven.
xx
I had been studying for what felt like days, although had only been two hours before I was interrupted by Coco. "So you're really doing this?" I spun my chair around, meeting her gaze. Sighing, I replied, "Yeah, might as well try."
"You understand you could die, right?" I heard the concern in her voice as she drug herself over to my bed, sitting across the end of it. "I know, but I'd rather die knowing I tried before I let that, imbecile, become our next supreme. There's something off about him Coco, something just doesn't feel right." The blonde nodded back at her friend, understanding what she meant. "I know, I just hate to think of you possibly failing, it wouldn't be the same here without you." "I know, but I'm doing good. My powers are only growing stronger, I have no doubt it in my mind that I should be able to do this." I lied, I most definitely had doubts, but I couldn't let her know that. I couldn't let anyone know that. "Why do you have such a bad feeling about him?" Her words struck me, I looked around the room, thinking, why did I have such an uneasy feeling? Other than his cocky attitude he had done nothing to me personally. "I don't really know, I just get this gut feeling, something isn't right, and I intend to find out what it is."
#Ahs#american horror story#ahs apocolaypse#michael langdon#langdon#antichrist#apocalypse#murder house#asylum#coven#freak show#hotel#roanoke#cult#ahs imagines#american horror story imagines#michael langdon imagines#ahs fanfiction#robichaux#hawthorne!michael
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SHE'S MY NOONA
Chapter 13
1 year went by slowly.
Things changed alot. Seung gi got married with his love and became the son in law of the rich billionaire while Cha eun woo just became the known C.E.O in his company.
Go ara found a living after BTS left, she got married and became a house wife with Lee soo hyuk a street model while Shin hye, Min ah's other friend just continued working hard for her family.
And BTS? Ooh they were international boy band their songs were big hit
Min ah's p.o.v
As for me i was able to pay for my granny's surgery that i was relieved but i managed to get the money by working at the big hit company. This wasn't what i was planning but they were willing to help me since i was close to the company and it could pay big time.
I didn't expect to be given a job as black pink assistance manager also counted as an errand girl since thats what those evil girls are doing especially that Jennie she treats me badly as if i ever did something bad to her, i really hate her.
It was break time
I had to meet up with my friends as we were busy making stories. "So Min ah i heard you are still being harassed by those blackpink." Shin hye cried having a coffee.
"It was bad luck i told her." Go ara cried as i remember telling her it was a secret that i was having a bad time. "Just leave the job it's not your thing, find something descent." She cried
"True i wish to give up but i wanted to see someone before i leave." I said as my friends stared at me confused wanting to know but i couldn't tell.
"She is always like when i ask her who is it." Go ara cried "yah, Min ah you're the only one of our friends and other classmates who hasn't gotten married till when should i arrange a blind date for you?" The fancy Shin hye would cry.
"Yah!, i'm done dating, i can just be a nun." I said as i laughed at my friends who were busy remarking on what i said. "Yah i won't be your friend if you won't marry." Shin hye cried as Go ara hit her after making such a remark.
"Yah Min ah is having a tough time right now and i don't think it is the right time for her to hook up with a random guy." Go ara supported.
"By the way you said that night you were with your dongsae, where is he you never introduced him to us." She cried "aah, he went abroad so i can't get intouch with him." "Really? Then why did ara tell me you were hidding him if you weren't dating!?" Shin hye was being persistent even after i told her that Seung gi cheated on me she almost destroyed the wedding.
I split the coffee i was drinking landing to Go ara choking onto what Shin hye spoke. " yah shin hye it wasn't like that, he's just not used to speak to other people." I lied not realising it was too much.
"But that guy looks so familiar like some cel-." I managed to interrupt the talkative Go ara by stuffing alot of cupcakes in her mouth.
I then got a call from my boss who was the evil witch Jennie ordering me to hurry back to the company.
"Let me guess the evil Jennie." Shin hye guessed referring to how i saved her. "I have to go guys." I excused myself living my two friends.
End of p.o.v
Jennie's p.o.v
I was so tired after a long time rehersal as my manager kept on correcting me all the time. "Excuse me when is that girl bringing my coffee i'm so dry." I cried as i saw the girl come running carring the damn coffee.
"Mianhaeyo i got stuck bit managed to run." She smiled handling me the coffee what's with the fake smile i know she hates me i too hate her. The coffee she bought was warm but i didn't want it.
I managed to open and spilled in infront of her as some landed on her shoes "its warm i wanted it hot." I smirked "are you still going to smile?"
The next thing she did was still smile "Mianhaeyo the coffee didn't suit your test." She said as she left.
Meanwhile in the US
Bts were in their rooms finishing to pack their stuffs. "I can't believe we are going back it felt like forever!" Jin cried as the others complimented.
"Should we atleast celebrate our last before leaving." Jimin asked as they all agreed. Jungkook seemed to be happy and moving on but his friends knew he had changed much he would seduce girls with his charms and get a temper on a small little thing. He was not the little innocent Jungkook they knew.
"Yah should we call or go to the strip club?" Taehyung cried as Suga and Jin shrugged not agreeing with their dongsae but the others agreed even the young maknae agreed to go there.
As the other hyungs left first Suga and Jin pulled the maknae back "yah Jungkook you know you don't have to go." Jin cried as he clutched him.
"Yah hyung what are you doing,we've been this through alot why not?" He cried "if its because of that bet along time you shouldn't do it." Jin kept insisting to who was not paying attention.
"Then are you trying to shutter away your old self because this isn't you." Suga smirked.
"Aniyo i've just matured." He said hearing a spark of anger. He decided to leave but Suga was still persistent not forgetting Jungkook's anger issues.
"Wae?, is it because of her that you changed this much?" Suga cried making Jungkook stop as he clenched his fist,"stop."
"That's right it must hit the spot." Suga continued asvhe tried to stop the two "you guys." "Stop talking about someone i already forgot." He cried "then why anger why move on like this it's not like you two were dating." Suga had gone too far making Jungkook angry that he punched him hard to his mouth making him nosebleed.
"Guys stop it!, Jungkook you aren't in your right mind you've really changed." Jin cried hurrying to support Suga.
Jungkook suuddenly came to the point of realization and left to join his other hyungs. He would just drink that night realizing it was hard to forget Min ah even if he tried to his hurt won't just accept he wanted to get wasted that night.
Back to Korea
Shin min ah was in the washroom cursing at Jennie quietly, she thought she was having a bad day. She just wished something nice would happen to her for once.
Thats when some employees entered in the washroom gossiping about celebrities " hey did you hear BTS are expected to be back by tomorrow morning isn't that great!" One of them cried making Min ah shocked by the news.
"It still hasn't been published but i overheard Jennie and director talk about it." Another said "sheesh i really don't like that Jennie girl she's so bad i just can't believe Jungkook dated her secretly with that attitude." "Mwo!!" Min ah and the other girls who didn't know she was listening cried.
Min ah's p.o.v
I secretly overheard their conversation, i was so fluttered and excited that BTS were coming back i smiled as i stared at the black braclet on my hand. I still haven't forgotten how we spent our memories together but i must be looking too greedy for a noona.
I was right i shouldn't be swayed by his charm i kept looking at his image that was charming and adorable smile that i missed.
But then continue hearing their conversation took my breath suddenly my heart was beating like crazy. I suddenly felt down "why am i like this must i be sick i felt my heart race.
"Why do i feel empty wherever i hear their music and - Andwe Min ah come to your senses." I hit myself
Later
I managed to get out when i saw Cha eun woo in his new black car. He was there smiling at me so i decided to get the lift since it won't hurt to take an offer.
"So did your boss promote you with a new car too." I smiled at him who just chuckled back. " ne by the way i wanted you to be the first person to treat." He cried
"You are going to treat me out?!" I happily cried since i was so hungry "yeesh you are really that hungry then lets go it something like a date." He cried reminding me the promise i once made to Jungkook, i felt really bad.
We then went over to eat. He took me to a fancy restaurant that i didn't expect since everything was expensive. "Yah Eun woo why here do you know it is expensive." I whispered to him "don't worry i just wanted you to taste something new for your menu." He smiled as he started eating using his fork and knife. " i have a new job
I stared at the beef on my plate "Jungkook also loved beef." I muttered not realising i was speaking my thoughts out loud.
"What is it, something wrong?" He asked me as i continued to eat, sincerely it was sweet "i guess its nice." He cried as he cut another slice and gave it to me.
Cha eun woo's p.o.v
I gave her my remaining slice as she just smiled at me making my heart flutter "kumaoh." But i didn't like how she kept bringing up that guy no matter how he left i just had to make sure i tell her cause this was my only way to win her before another person gets in the way.
I then took her home as she still continued to address me friendly i really hated it but i was still scared that i would loose my friendship with her but i then decided.
"Min ah..." she turned to look at me.
....................................................
That night
Shin min ah's p.o.v
I couldn't sleep or eat even after what happened in the car i couldn't bare to believe it was Eun woo to do that.
Flashback
"Min ah do you always see me as your friend in everything we do?" He asked thinking of it as a joke "Yah eun woo what stupid question is that?" I cried but he grabbed my hand making me to face him as i just wondered what happened to him all of a sudden.
"Min ah mianhaeyo i was not there for you during your breakup." He cried thinking he reacted this way because he felt sorry. "Its okay i was fine." I said to him. "You should leave." I continued as i turned to leave but he again grabbed my hand "i'm not done." He said gently pulling me for a kiss.
My heart was beating so fast out of shock but something else happened this action brought back some memories i didn't want to remember. Thats right a kiss i shared with Jungkook who didn't tell me. I managed to hurrily back out and ran out of embarrassment
End of flashback
Oh God! Ottokye i cried opening my computer to play games but i decided to enter a site where you can ask question about love and get help.
So i made a fake name and logged in as i typed my problem.
'Dear helper i heard your advices help can you also help me?' It didn't take long before she answered 'yes i'm of great help and you made a right decision coming so state your problem.' She typed 'I don't know about this but what should i do when i realize that i kissed my close friend when i got drunk and what do you think that person thinks of me if he hasn't told me.'
It took long enough for that stupid answer till i gave up. I then opened their pictures unluckily to see Jungkook's picture, i just kept staring at him he looked so perfect just sitting there smiling like a bunny. I realised i was lost when i calmed myself "aniyo don't get fooled he just left obviously running away from me." I cried as i went to sleep only making it worse still thinking about the two kisses but how can Eun woo just do that not thinking of how it will affect our friendship.
I just decided to go outside for a walk outside still thinking if the boys were doing okay and if they would arrive safety.
The next day
Alot of fans were at the airport very eary in the morning waiting for their idols. "Ommo, they are coming I've missed their handsome faces." "Especially my kookie i heard he's become more mature and sexy." Some fans cried as most reporters came pushing through the crowd soon after they arrived wearing cool clothes with their face masks.
Fans busy crying their names out and showing and expressing their love as they got into their vehicle. "Wow Army have gone really crazy they love us." Tae cried staring outside as screams got louder. "Stop doing that you never know what they'll do." Jin always worries
"Welcome back boys." The driver cried taking them to their company. "We should visit our parents soon I really miss them." Jimin cried telling his members.
Jungkook's p.o.v
Suga hyung and I were not in good terms since yesterday night, I didn't want to get reminded of the past since I vowed to forget it and the only way to do it I had to change since they all treated me like a child. I wasn't the innocent person they knew. I was different I could do and get everything a man needed all the girls that I desired I decided not to think lowly of myself maybe this was the other side of me.
We finally arrived as we hurriedly got out of the van and entered the company where we were greatly welcomed. We didn't care we just walked up to when the director came to congratulate us I realised they had arranged a welcome party for us.
I was so happy everyone wanted to know about our journey every staff surrounding us till when black pink came to us welcoming us back again. "I knew you guys would come so I prepared a funny entertainment for you guys." Jennie cried
"You can come out now!, she's my new assistance manager for the one year but she's a big fan of you so I had her prepare you something.
Then a thin young person wearing a tuxedo with a fake mustache she looked nervous But still familiar. She started dancing funny. Everyone was busy laughing till i soon realized it was her Min ah after hearing it from the manager "isn't that Min ah wasn't Jennie supposed to go on stage?" He cried as some of my hyungs also overheard as they stared at me.
I was taken aback i couldn't stop looking at her. I couldn't think mu mind went black even my heart began to flutter even if i got over her.
I just wanted to be by side, i just wanted to love her, i just wanted to kiss her, hold her or make love to her but what am i thinking Jungkook your just lying yourself its all a delusion she'll never see me even right infront of her she still sees that jerk, she never even remembered our kiss cause it's nothing to her.
Shin min ah's p.o.v
I was on stage embarrassed after Jennie trying to embarass me but still i was happy for the boys they were all back . I felt relieved but I suddenly realised someone was staring at me it was Jungkook but i turned away. I wanted to ran upto him and hug him, i must have missed his support and comfort.
Even if i was trying to bring myself to him how would i face him after breaking our promise and yet the damn kiss i couldn't remember and this was not how i pictured appearing this funny infront of him
I couldn't remember cause i was drunk i wish i could explain but he looked mad and with no reaction. He looked all matured and not the little innocent Jungkook i once knew, could i be wrong could he still remember me? I thought getting off stage.
After all he's someone international now would he talk to me again?i really miss him bogoshipeo.
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MAKE OVER
Chapter 2: Librarian the seductress
Jung Hoseok x Reader
Reader as Kang Hyeonji
SUMMARY: When Kang Hyeonji transformed herself into a striking redhead, the entire male population of Seoul stood up and took notice. But her make over was for Jung Hoseok’s benefit alone. He began to show interest in the new look but not in the way she wanted. Suddenly he was over-protective, perhaps a little jealous. It seemed that the idea of having a relationship with her couldn’t be further from his mind. The girl however wants more. So it was time for an ultimatum. If Hoseok didn’t want Hyeonji to lose her virginity to another admirer, he had no option but to make love to her himself.
Hyeonji was standing at the library computer, running the wand over the first of the huge pile of returned books, when something caught her eye. Something bright and red. She glanced up through the glass door to see a shiny red car turning its brand-new nose into the empty parking space right outside the library. It brought no flash of recognition, despite being a memorable model. Not quite a sports car, it was stills stylish and expensive looking. A newcomer to the area, no doubt. Not knowing that this particular library branch was closed to the public on Wednesday morning. Hyeonji was about to return to the job at hand when the driver's door opened and a heart-jolting familiar head of hair came into view, gleaming under the summer sun.
Hoseok.
Her heart leaped. So he had remembered her birthday. He'd even come in person. She could hardly believe it. Her happiness knew no bounds as she watched him close the car and stride up onto the pavement and across to the front doors. He smiled at her through the grass as he tapped on the wooden frame.
"Can't they see were closed?" Choon Hee complained from where she was sitting at her desk, flipping through one of the new publisher catalogs. She could not see who was knocking. If she had, she would not be so anxious to send the unwanted visitor away. Min Choon Hee might be happily married to her husband Min Yoongi with three children, but she still had an eye for a good-looking man.
Hoseok was just that –and more. At twenty five, he was in his physical prime, his elegant body in perfect tune with his handsome face. His height was no joke either, his lean frame made him look even taller, and did his choice of clothing. In winter they range from soft suede numbers to tweedy sports coats. In summer he chose linen or lightweight wool in neutral colors, and teamed them with cool T-shirts. Ties rarely graced his neck. In fact, Hyeonji had never seen Hoseok dressed formally.
Today he was wearing stonewashed blue jeans, a navy shirt and a loose cream jacket with sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His black hair was longer than when she'd seen him last, falling to his ears from its side parting and flopping with its usual rakish charm across his high forehead. He looked slightly wind-blown and utterly gorgeous. Hyeonji immediately put her "moving on" decision on hold for a good seven years. Thirty, she decided a new, was soon enough to give up all hope. The fact that Hoseok was standing where he was at this very moment had to give her some hope. Fancy him abandoning his precious business on a working day to drive this long from Seoul to Gwangju, just to see her on her birthday.
"For pity's sake!" Choon Hee snapped when Hoseok knocked a second time. "Can't they read? The library times are on the darned door!"
"It's someone I know," Hyeonji said. "I'll just go let him in." Choon Hee jumped from her sit "But it's almost..." The sight of Hoseok's handsome-self stopped her in her tracks. "Mmm, yes by all means let him in," she murmured, primping her glossy black straight hair as Hyeonji hurried out from behind the reception desk across the functional grey carpet. Hyeonji wasn't worried that Hoseok would find Choon Hee attractive. As pretty as she was, she was a married woman. Hoseok believed in keeping his sex life simple.
"One girl at a time," he'd once confided in Hyeonji. "And never anyone else's."
It was surprisingly conservative attitude in this day and age, especially coming from a man who looked like Hoseok, who had women throwing themselves at him all the time. He had a similarly strict attitude to marriage. Only one per lifetime, which was why he'd always say he would not bother with marriage till he was in his thirties and financially secure. He didn't want to make a mistake in finding his partner.
"In the meantime," he joked to her one day, "I'm having a lot of fun auditioning possible future candidates for the position of Mrs. Jung Hoseok." It had always terrified Hyeonji that one of those future candidates might capture Hoseok's love as well as his lust. Fortunately, that hadn't happened, and Hyeonji had taken heart from the failure of his various very beautiful girlfriends to last more than a few months. But his latest was a bit of a worry. A statuesque brunette who went by the name Tinashe, she'd already lasted six months –a record for Hoseok. He'd even brought her home with him for Christmas break, during which time Hyeonji had many opportunities to see Tinashe's assets. What she could do for a bikini was incomparable.
But I'm not going to think about Tinashe right now, Hyeonji told herself as she turned the key and swept the open door. Today is my birthday and my very best friend has come to celebrate it with me. "Hoseok!" she exclaimed, smiling up into his dancing brown eyes. "Hi there, Hyeonji. Sorry to interrupt. I know you're working but I simply had to show you my new car. Picked it up this morning at one of those dealerships just the other side of town and couldn't resist taking it for a spin. Before I knew it I was on the express way headed here. I thought what the hell Hoseok? You haven't had a day off in ages. Drive up to Gwangju and visit your Mom."
He smiled a sheepish smile, showing perfect teeth and a charming dimple. "It wasn't till I pulled up into the driveway that I remembered today is her golf day. Took all the wind out of my sails, I can tell you. But no way was I going back to Seoul without showing someone. Naturally, I thought of you. So...what do you think?" and he waved in the direction of the car. "It's one of the new Mazda Eunos 800s. The Miller Cycle version. Great red, isn't it?" he finished.
Every drop of joy drained out of Hyeonji. Hoseok hadn't come for her birthday. He'd come to show her a pathetic car. Worse, she hadn't even been his first choice of viewer. She'd run a very poor second. As usual. Something hard curled around her heart, setting in concrete and trapping her love for him deep inside. Hyeonji determined it would never see the light of day again. She glanced coldly over at the offending vehicle and shrugged dismissively. "If you've seen one red car Hoseok," she said coolly, "You've seen them all."
There was no doubt he was taken aback by the icy indifference of her tone, for his eyebrows shot up and he stared at her with bewilderment in his beautiful brown eyes. Hyeonji was disgusted with herself for instantly feeling guilty. So much for her first foray into hating Hoseok, but she was determined not to weaken this time. Enough was enough.
"You know me Hoseok," she went on brusquely. "I've never been a car person."
"That's because you've never learned to drive, Hyeonji. You'd appreciate cars more if you were ever behind the wheel. Come on. Come for a short spin with me." He actually took her arm and began propelling her across the pavement. "Hobi!" she protested, wrenching her arm away from his hold and planting her sensible shoes firmly on the pavement. "I can't. I'm at work."
"But surely the library's not even open," he argued. "Certainly they won't miss you for a couple of minutes?"
"That's beside the point," she said sternly. "You might be your own boss, Hoseok, and come and go as you please, but most people can't, me included. Besides, it's almost morning tea and I have to be here for that." The rest of the staff had all chipped in to buy her a cake. It was a tradition in the library whenever one of them had a birthday. No way was she going to run out on her real friends to indulge Hobi's ego.
"I don't see why," he said stubbornly.
No you wouldn't...
Hyeonji thought mutinously, and toyed with telling him, just so he could feel terrible for a full ten seconds. The decision was taken out of her hand when Choon Hee popped her head out the door. "Come on birthday girl. Namjoon and the new girlfriend Han Byeol brought your cake along and all twenty-three candles are alight and waiting. So get in here and do the honors. You can bring your hunk of a friend, if you like," she added, looking Hoseok up and down with saucily admiring eyes.
"We've got more than enough cake for an extra mouth" Hyeonji relished Hoseok's groan. To give him some credit he did look suitably apologetic once Choon Hee appeared. "God, Hyeonji, I had no idea it was your birthday. There I was, blabbering away about my new car, and all the time you must be thinking how damned selfish I was being." Frankly, she was enjoying his guilt. It had a deliciously soothing effect on her damaged pride. "That's all right Hobi. I'm used to your not remembering my birthday." He winced anew. "Don't make me feel any more rotten that I already do." Hyeonji almost gave in. it was awfully hard to stay mad at Hoseok. He didn't mean to be selfish. He was, unfortunately, the product of a doting mother and far too many God given talents. Brains and beauty did not make for a modest, self-effacing kind of guy.
Hoseok could be generous and charming when he set his mind to it, but in the main he was a self-absorbed individual who rarely saw beyond end of his own classically shaped nose. God know why I love him so much, Hyeonji though irritably. But then her eyes travelled slowly from his perfect face down over his perfect body, and every female cell she owned clamored to be noticed back.
But the only expression in his eyes when he looked down at her was remorse. When he forcibly linked arms with her, she glared her frustration up to him. "Don't be mad at me, Hyeonji" he said with disarming softness. "I'm not mad at you," she returned stiffly.
"Oh, yes, you are. And you have every right to be. But I'll make it you to you tonight, if you'll let me" says the man who is desperately clinging to your arms. "Tonight?" she echoed far too weakly. "Yes, tonight," he said firmly. "But for now I think your colleagues are waiting for you to blow out those twenty-three candles."
With typical Hoseok confidence he steered her into the library and proceeded to charm everyone in the place. It annoyed Hyeonji that he gave her openly curious workmates the impression that he was a boyfriend of sorts. He even extracted her promise in Choon Hee's goggle-eyed presence to go out with him later that evening. She initially refused dinner, no way was she going to disappoint her mother, but grudgingly agreed to after-dinner coffee somewhere.
Hyeonji told herself afterwards that she would never have agreed to go out with him at all if she'd been alone with him. She would have sent him on his way with a flea in his ear. She didn't need his pity, or guilt. The moment his new red Mazda roared of up the road back in the direction of Seoul, Choon Hee and Han Byeol settled their dryly knowing eyes on her.
"Well you're a dark horse, Hyeonji, aren't you?" Choon Hee said as they walked together back into the library. "I've always thought of you as a quiet little thing and all this time you had something like that on the side." Han Byeol giggled along with Choon Hee. Hyeonji silently cursed Hoseok. All he ever caused her was trouble and heartache. "Hoseok's mother lives next door," she explained with more calm than she was feeling. "I've known Hobi for years. We're just good friends."
"Oh sure. He drove all the way up from Seoul to wish you a happy birthday because you're just good friends. You know what? I'll bet you're one of those girls who go home from the office at night, and perform one of those ten-second transformations." Choon Hee laughed while Han Byeol agreeing to every word she said. "You know the type. Off come the glasses and the straight laced clothes. Down comes the hair. On goes the sexy gear, make-up, and perfume, and –WHAM! Instant meat in heat!"
Hyeonji had to laugh. It would take more than seconds to transform her. "You can laugh," Han Byeol scoffed. "But I'm no one's fool. And you're far prettier than you pretend to be. I always did wonder why you never seemed to be on the lookout for a fella. I was beginning to think all sorts of things till glamour boy arrived on the scene today. He gave me a case of instant heat, I can tell you. And I saw the way you looked at him when you didn't think anyone was noticing. You've got it bad. I know the signs. So why haven't I heard of this paragon perfection before? Why all the mystery and secrecy? Is he married? A womanizer? A bad boy? Look, you can trust me with your deep dark secrets" she whispered. "I won't tell anyone."
Hyeonji laughed a second time. "There's nothing deep or dark to tell. I repeat... we're just good friends. As I said before Hobi used to live next door. We went to school together, though not in the same class. He was two years ahead of me."
"Well, there's nothing remotely boy-next-door about him anymore" came Choon Hee's dry remark. "He has city written all over him. Not to mention success." Hyeonji and Han Byeol nodded to this "I am well aware of that, believe me. I'm not blind, but there's never been any romance between us, and there never will be. He has a steady girlfriend. Goes by the name of Tinashe."
"Tinashe," Choon Hee repeated, her nose wrinkling. "Don't tell me. She's stunning with boobs to die for, hair down to her waist and legs up to her armpits?" Hyeonji startled. "You know her?"
"Nope. Just guessed. Men like your Hoseok always seem to have girls like that on their arm" Choon Hee smirks. "He isn't my Hoseok" Hyeonji said tightly. "But you like him to be, don't you?" Han Byeol added.
Hyeonji opened her mouth to deny it. But her tongue betrayed her when a thickness claimed it. Tears pricked at her back of her eyes.
Her Hoseok...
What a concept. What an improbable, impossible, inconceivable, unachievable concept. To keep clinging to it was not only demeaning to her personally but depressing in the extreme. "There was a time when I did" she said at last, her tone clipped and cold. "But not anymore. I have better things to do with my life than pine for the impossible."
"Impossible? Why do you say impossible?" as Han Byeol curiously asked. "For pity's sake Han Byeol, you've seen him and you too Choon. You guys said so yourself men like Hoseok go for girls like Tinashe, not mousy little things like me."
"You'd be far from mousy if you made the best of yourself. To be frank, Hyeonji, a little make-up wouldn't go astray. And an occasional visit to the hairdresser." Hyeonji stiffened, despite the criticism striking home. "I wouldn't want a man who didn't love me for myself" CHoon Hee said sharply. "That's rubbish and you know it! I'm a married lady and I still have to work hard to keep my man. Now you listen to me, Hyeonji and you too Han Byeol for your sake and Namjoon's." Choon Hee turns to face Hyeonji "Now, when Hoseok comes to take you out tonight. Surprise him."
"Surprise him?" Hyeonji asked dryly feeling nervous about Choon Hee's suggestion. "Yes, leave your hair down. Slap some make-up on." Han Byeol added "Use a sexy perfume. Wear something which shows off that great little figure of yours." Choon Hee nodded in approval.
For a split second, Hyeonji was buoyed up by Choon Hee and Han Byeol's compliments on her figure. But then she thought of Tinashe's tall, voluptuous, sex-bomb body and her momentary high was totally deflated.
"I don't have any sexy perfume," she murmured dispiritedly. She didn't own much make-up either. But she wasn't about to admit that. Choon Hee gave her an exasperated glare. "Then buy some at the mall during your lunch hour!" Their library was in a small regional center which boasted a few shops, a well-stocked chemist shop included. Hyeonji declined telling CHoon Hee and Han Byeol that she only had five dollars in her purse. Sexy perfume was expensive, and she'd rather wear nothing than douse herself in a cheap scent.
Hyeonji actually contemplating asking her friends to lend her some money and reality returned with a rush. She could wear more make-up than a Japanese geisha and drown herself in the most exotic expensive perfume in the world and it would not make Hoseok fall in love with her. "Thank you for your advice ladies," she said with a return to common sense "but I really rather just be myself. Now I'd better get back to these books." Hyeonji resumed checking in the returns, blocking her mind to everything but the thought that at least she would not starve to death tonight after her mother's special birthday meal. Hoseok could buy her something delicious and creamy to go with her after-dinner coffee.
Hyeonji gave no more thought to the girl's advice about make-up and perfume, till she arrived home late that afternoon and opened her carryall to find a paper parcel sitting on top of her house keys. It contained a small but expensive-looking bottle of perfume.
And a note. "Happy birthday darling!" Choon Hee and Han Byeol had written with their usual extravagant hand writing. "This always worked for me. Well, sometimes. Still, what have you got to lose? Go for it! We chipped in so don't worry about it. We love you. Go get your man!"
Hyeonji sprayed a tiny burst of perfume onto her wrist and lifted it to her nose. It was a wonderfully sensual smell, its heavy musk perfume bringing images of satin sheets and naked bodies and untold unknown delights. Hyeonji shook her head. To wear such a scent in Hoseok's presence would be the ultimate torture, and let's face it, Hyeonji told herself, wearing perfume, no matter how sensual, isn't about to turn Hoseok into some kind of sex-crazed lunatic. With a girl like Tinashe in tow, no doubt he has all the sex he can handle. Hyeonji glanced at the perfume's name and laughed.
SEDUCTRESS
Good Lord. It would've been a powerful potion to turn her into that. It was a nice thought of Choon Hee and Han Byeol's, but a total waste of time and money. So was her advice. For Hyeonji she believed she did have something to lose. Her self-respect, and possibly Hoseok's friendship.
Chapter 03
Masterlist
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A lot of people were acquainted with him through his prolific participation in News & Politics, but to me Aaron was always an author, one half of the team behind Hybrid Theory. That fic was a bastion of creativity, drama, and wry humor; a ludicrous and ambitious premise, played gloriously straight. It provided me with much-needed hope and entertainment in years past. His death comes as a punch in the gut, and takes the wind of optimism out of my sails.
I never knew him well, and now I never will. Rest in peace, Aaron. The world is lessened by your absence from it.
-orm Ember
I didn't want to write this.
Not just for the obvious reasons, that nobody likes to say goodbye to a friend like this. I didn't want to make this about me, because it isn't about me. I wanted to say something about him, to tell his story, to express the tiniest part of the loss I feel in a way others could understand.
But I came to realise that it wasn't for me to tell his story. I can't. That story was for him to tell, and unfortunately, he cannot. The only story I have to tell is the story of us. So that's what I'll do.
I met Aaron Peori when we were both new in high school, about twenty-five years ago. Glace Bay High was the tenth of the eleven schools that I attended in my eleven years of schooling, and so by then I was almost as well-practiced in "meet new friends" as I was in "meet the new local pack of bullies". Walking home, I noticed one guy about my age that always walked alone, reading a book. In other words, a fellow nerd, a weirdo, an outcast. Like me. After a couple of days of spotting this lone reading fellow, he happened to be reading a book by Christopher Pike, an author I also had books by. That was, as the saying goes, an opening.
"Hey, isn't that a Christopher Pike book?" I asked this stranger, casually, as if I hadn't already known.
He looked up at me, not even showing any surprise that some weirdo had walked up and asked about the book his nose was in. "Yes," he said, peering at me owlishly from behind his glasses, then after a moment added, "He's a good author."
By the time we reached home that day, we were already good friends. From that point on, in fact, we were virtually inseparable, aided by the fact that he lived almost literally in my backyard.
From the very beginning, we were creative collaborators. At first, we were using GI Joes and a few other toys in elaborate setpiece dioramas that spanned his house's enclosed front porch, and sometimes spilled out to occupy part of the year as well. Factions, sacrifices, betrayals, and no doubt embarassing-in-retrospect dialogue were all a part of those first afternoons and weekends.
I think he first got a copy of the Marvel Super Heroes RPG from his cousin. Before I'd met him, Aaron and his cousin had both been drawing their own comics about a space-based superhero team called Sonis. Now, with a tool that you could use tell stories about superheroes, and rules to arbitrate - our new great dioramas were ones made of words, not toys. I quickly made my own "expanded universe", about a group of mercenary superheroes called Heroes For Hire.
At that point, what turned out to be a very long-lasting pattern was set. Aaron was the GM, and I was the player. Aaron created the worlds, and I lived the characters in them. He did want me to be the GM sometimes (it's more fun being the player!), but I was always uncomfortably aware how much better at it he was than me, and so I felt intimidated to pit my own lesser stories against the epics he created.
As time went on, another pattern that would be long-lasting emerged: Aaron and I's stories became vastly greater in scope. He rewrote the resolution system of the game to account for much higher power levels than the original design used (Ochre feats!), and eventually we dispensed with the rules altogether, playing completely free-form with no set rules and only the occasional dice roll. I learned to handle multiple characters at once, and bored at the success easily reached by my insanely overpowered characters, learned to find more fun in getting them in trouble instead. Aaron learned to handle the narrative challenges faced by trying to craft stories about protagonists who had literal "I win" powers, and weren't very likeable to boot.
Very little of Heroes For Hire would be something I wouldn't be embarassed to show off today, but my former internet nom de guerre "Blade" comes from the most central and overpowered character of those days.
About a year before I left Cape Breton, Aaron and I discovered two things of lasting consequence: anime, via his having a comic adaptation of the movie "Project A-ko" in his huge box of comics that I would regularly raid, and fanfiction, which I had been introduced to via USENET by another friend of mine, Mark MacIsaac. After I left, Aaron had more free time, and thus he started writing a story that combined two of his favourite things: the then-popular anime Ranma 1/2, and Star Wars.
Aaron wrote prolifically, longhand on sheaths of paper, in his inscrutable and typo-laden scrawl. My role in those first stories, for all they were credited under both our names, was just to type these up and edit them - but that wasn't a small task, to be fair. I can type 60wpm despite still pecking with two fingers instead of touch-typing, a skill that dates to those early manuscripts.
That level of collaboration, though, wasn't enough. Soon we took to role-playing games again, and I took on various Ranma characters in lengthy phone conversations where he was once again the DM. Those games formed several of the plots for Ranma: Curse of Darkness, and the entirety of the plot of Kyoto Chronicles (sadly never actually finished), along with other stories both Ranma and non that never made it to the internet. Again, he would write the scripts and I would type them up, now with more creative control and editing.
The time came when we once again lived in the same city, able to really collaborate with both of us writing scenes. All of this finally culminated in Hybrid Theory, our longer-than-Lord-of-the-Rings magnum opus, and something we were both pretty proud of despite the various flaws and that we totally botched poor Rei's character arc.
After writing something like that, we were sure, it would be easy to write something for professional publication. But unfortunately, it never came to be. Circumstances separated us again, several promising projects got stalled after a few chapters, and then the grinding workload he faced at his job hurt his ability to write consistently.
But Aaron never stopped writing fanfiction. His mind never stopped working. Most of what he wrote was "junk" in his words, and he wouldn't even show it to me, but he was still thinking up stories and worlds and his favourite thing of all: elaborate fight scenes. He once told me he could write in any series, no matter how crappy or derivative, "as long as the main characters can run up walls".
It frustrates me that I cannot prove to anyone here how brilliant Aaron was, because that brilliance was hidden behind the various flaws in his prose style. His prospensity for typos never did much improve, though he could at least spellcheck stuff he wrote on a computer rather than longhand. He never got hung up like me searching for the exact right word, and so he often just used the same words over and over. For those that read his last work, I can only explain that I took out a ton of "snaps" - "snapped her head back", "snapped his wrist forward", "the snake snapped out" and yet there are STILL that many in there. I was going to do a much more thorough editing pass when it was finished.
But that is all surface-level. Where Aaron excelled was in his vision for a setting and story. He could take the ridiculous and make it somehow sublime - indeed, he often challenged himself with making ridiculous or cliche concepts work. He could keep track of a million dancing pieces and know precisely which should enter the stage, and from where. It's not that I didn't contribute meaningfully to our collaborative efforts, but I often felt like a child with crayons colouring in the lines of a sketch by Da Vinci. Even if my colouring was good, it wasn't the masterpiece.
His players knew, though. Another habit Aaron kept for the rest of his life was GMing (though he enjoyed playing, when the opportunity was afforded to him), even if he couldn't do it as much in recent years. Aaron was a masterful GM, able to coax out strong story arcs and dramatic moments from players of any skill level, able to make NPCs that the players hated or loved or both, able to coax rambunctious player parties into dramatic clashes and events that never felt railroaded. But perhaps even more than that, he was a master of making game rules work for him instead of against him. Aaron loved role playing game rules: one of his primary hobbies and uses of his spare cash was to buy new gamebooks, even if he never planned to use them for a game. He'd devour them, expertly analyse their strengths and flaws, modify and house-rule them to his liking, and even a notoriously tricky game to GM like Exalted flowed smoothly in his hands.
His set of replacement Dragonblooded charms are still the best and most flavourful charmset ever made for them. And he always maintained that the best game system to run Star Wars with was the pulp action game Adventure! - which was the very last game I'd play with him. He was, as always on these matters, completely correct.
In another world, even with the problems we had, I'm sure Aaron could have been a published author. The problem, if problem it was, was that Aaron's prolificness stemmed from his own joy in writing and creating. Ultimately, if he was more interested in writing about a magical self-insert Sakura than he was in something "professional", then that's what he did. He took note of criticism and changed things if he got it, but ultimately the only critic whose opinion he internalised was himself. He wrote because he enjoyed writing. If somebody else enjoyed what he did, great. If nobody did, he'd write anyway.
Aaron and I were so close that my father asked me if we were gay once. We weren't - I'm straight, and he was (unknowingly at the time) asexual. But we loved each other anyway. We had the kind of easy camraderie and understanding where we could nostalge and talk for hours upon hours, week upon week, and never get bored even when we didn't have really anything to talk about. We were never bored of each other's company. From that very first day we met, we understood each other in ways that nobody else ever did, or ever would. I never pictured my life without Aaron in it. I was going to be a writer, I knew at 15 years old, with Aaron. I was going to move back to Canada someday - and live near Aaron.
There is a hole, and it cannot be filled. It hurts, and it will always hurt. And yet I am greater for having it. It is unthinkable to wish that I didn't have it. My life without Aaron is unthinkable. I'll have to think of it, maybe another day, but not yet.
Aaron's last few years were difficult in some ways. He stuck in a predatory, horrible job that left him perpetually sick and exhausted, the only thing in the 25 years I knew him that actually forced him to stop writing and GMing for any length of time. He was too proud to take help, too tired to look for an alternative. He nearly died of a perforated ulcer a few years ago, and that added "chronic pain" to his ailments, and being him, he would only take painkillers when it became unbearable. It was unsustainable, we knew it, but he was always reaching for that promotion that would finally bring the shorter hours he had been asking for. In the meantime, he'd always say "Don't worry about me, I'm fine." I wish he had been right.
And yet.
In those same years, Aaron discovered himself. He discovered that he wasn't the strange not-wanting-sex freak he had grown up thinking he was, that there were many people like him out there. He got in touch with the emotions he had suppressed within himself due to a traumatic childhood experience, and while he sometimes had difficulty handling his newfound sadness (he was striken by grief like I'd never seen over the death of his grandfather) or anger (political topics were verboten in our conversations over the last few years), I believe that for all the pain and overwork and lack of creative output he was still in some ways never happier than he was these last few years.
He told me once that he wanted to find a partner of either gender, who didn't need or didn't want sex, but could be with him and hold him close when he needed it. I cried, and told him I knew he could find someone once he was out of that job. He deserved it. He deserved that happiness too.
This forum (although not solely) had a lot to do with him discovering himself, and that is why I felt I had to post about him here. You meant more to him than you know, and to some of you, though I don't know your names, I owe a debt I can never repay. Whoever you are, thank you so much. You helped him in a way I couldn't. The joy and hope of his last years came from the help you gave him.
And that's the end of the story of us. Aaron was exhausted, pushing himself beyond what he ever should have - now, at least, he can rest. Aaron was in pain, but now the pain is gone. There was nothing good or right or kind or acceptable about it, but it can't be changed, it can't be helped.
Goodbye, Aaron. I love you. Thank you for writing stories with me.
-Chris Mcneil addressing sufficient velocity forums
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