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#do me a favor and don't look at the background too close thank you
tizzymcwizzy · 2 years
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he's trying to pick a good color
FINALLY finished this drawing i started a while ago,, i had everything done except the bg and left it as a wip for weeks, but today i decided to just sit down and finish it!
context for this drawing? he's buying nail polish during a 2 am grocery run, that's it
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3d-wifey · 8 months
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And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 2
Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 4.2k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! A/N: Don't be scared to click the embedded links, you might get an auditory surprise (Ai voice cloning works wonders)
Past (ii) - You
[16 & 17] - THE CAPITOL
The man before you has a ten-year streak of picking which tribute will win. Or, at least, that’s what he’s been claiming for the past twenty minutes or so. He said it has something to do with a lot of strategic planning and background research, but at this point, he could say it had something to do with the phases of the moon and you’d still nod along. You had tried to listen closely when he first started talking, but—well, okay, that’s a lie. Everything these Capitols say goes in one ear and out the other. Actually, it doesn’t even make it as far as the first ear.
“I know how it sounds, but it’s definitely more than luck, I can assure you.” His hand catches your shoulder in his attempt to hold your very fleeting attention, trailing down your back more and more in his excitement. “Well, I won’t bore you with the details, they might be a touch too complicated for you to understand.” He laughs and you smile coyly, sidestepping his touch. You’re no stranger to the heavy-handed petting of men and women with ulterior motives, no matter how innocent they try to play it off as being at first.
It’s nighttime in the arena, and most of the tributes are getting a spare few hours of sleep before the nightmare continues. Meaning this watch party has turned into an actual party. Honestly, you don’t even know how you got trapped in a conversation with this guy.
You sip delicately from your straw, eyes roaming over the room of mingling bodies and wall-length screens depicting the games live—eager to look at literally anything but him. And that’s when you spot him: your saving grace walking by himself with his hands in his pockets.
You make eye contact with Finnick and smile, waving him over. He only hesitates for a split second, but it’s long enough that you worry he’ll leave you to fend for yourself. A fear that’s only abated when he calls out your name and approaches with a mystified grin.
“Finn!” Thank god. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” You exclaim in the most sickeningly saccharine Capitol voice you can muster. He stares with wide blue-green eyes, bemusedly mouthing ‘Finn?’ at you but you ignore him in favor of turning back to the man who somehow looks more starstruck than before.
“I’m sorry, but Finnick here promised me a dance.” You explain, pulling an excuse out of your ass. You loop your arm with Finnick’s, practically hanging off of him, and you hope beyond hope that Finnick is good at reading social cues. It should be obvious, right? You’re a big neon sign flashing ‘HELP ME’ in no uncertain terms. 
“I did?” He asks, clearly confused at such a friendly greeting, but you stare up at him pleadingly and you must be projecting enough distress that he gets the memo. His back straightens in understanding and he smiles at the other man. “I did. But you know us victors, as slippery as an eel.” The other man lets out a flustered laugh. Finnick tilts his head as the band starts up. “Oh, I love this song. You don’t mind, do you? Thanks.”
You only have a few seconds to wonder what the hell an eel is before Finnick takes your glass out of your hand and hands it over to the sputtering man.
Your arms are still looped together as he leads you to the area where the other couples have decided to dance. 
“May I have this dance?” He teases and you get a strong sense of déjà vu.
“Well, we’re already here, aren’t we?” You laugh. You loop your arms behind his neck, and big hands grab either side of your waist. 
“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.” He sighs, any chance of him being serious is shattered by his smirk.
“What do you mean?” Your brows furrow before raising to touch your hairline when he spins you.
“You know; you being a damsel in distress, and me saving you by being dashingly handsome and charming.” He clears his throat obnoxiously and puffs up his chest playfully. You’re sure if his hands were free he’d stretch to flex his muscles.
“Mhm,” You hum doubtfully. “Those are…certainly words that could be said with your name in the same sentence.” 
“...I think that’s the most roundabout way anyone has ever insulted me before.” His jaw drops before he grins down at you in amused surprise. You laugh at his face, sobering up a little.
“But thank you, Finnick. Seriously. I’m sorry I keep relying on you to pull me out. It’s just…” You don’t know what else to do.
“No, it’s alright. It’s fun, honestly. We rarely get to exercise the little authority we have over them.” His mouth shrugs instead of his shoulders, an endearing motion. “Better enjoy it while you can, right?’’ 
You nod.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He straightens up subtly as your probing stare looks him up and down. “Don’t take this the wrong way. You look great, but you don’t really seem like a suit kind of guy.” There’s nothing about his outward appearance that gives away how uncomfortable he is, but you only need to talk to him for a few minutes to know this isn’t the sort of thing he’d choose to wear. Not that he looks bad in it; far from it. The coat is tailored to sinch at his waist and a few buttons of his undershirt are undone. The color of the jacket complements his skin tone quite well and the little pocket square makes his eyes pop. 
“Thank you. Try telling that to my prep team.” He rolls his eyes. “Apparently, telling them I feel like a circus monkey playing dress up isn’t enough to dissuade them, so I might need a second opinion.”
Circus? “Wait, you’ve seen a monkey before?” You ask in awed disbelief. His mouth moves wordlessly at your enthusiasm.
“Well…not in person, per se.”
Past (ii) - Finnick
[16 & 17] - THE NEXT DAY
Finnick pours the rest of his drink into one of the potted plants he walks past, unbuttoning his suit coat once he's out of sight. This really is the last time he's letting his stylist dress him up in this getup. He rubs his temple in an attempt to soothe his growing migraine. As far as he's concerned, his job here is done. He has no reason to keep watching the games. His tributes already died. He pushes the doors open to the wide balcony and stops in his tracks. Of the many things Finnick expects to find out here, your crying isn't one of them. His first thought is that you're mourning your tributes. His second thought is that Snow got to you. It's an odd time for Snow to drop that kind of proposition on you. There are too many people here, too open for that kind of conversation. He scratches that out and circles back to his first thought. When he wasn't busy rubbing elbows with sponsors, he was keeping an eye out for your tributes. Switching periodically from his kids to yours and he can't, for the life of him, explain why. They got pretty far, considering they were malnourished and had no combat training. The boy got crushed under a tree after an earthquake and the girl stayed with him until he died. Though, it wasn't long before a Career shot an arrow through her head. The balcony door shuts behind him, and you whip around. Neither of you says anything as you rush to wipe your face. There’s an awkward lull as you both silently assess each other. "If you tell me it gets easier, I will push you off this balcony." He doesn't answer immediately, instead taking a moment to look at you. God, you're beautiful. Even now, wiping away your tears and your hurt, you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He doesn’t say any of that. "I wasn't going to." He raises his hands placatingly. He waits for you to tell him to leave, but the demand never comes. He almost offers to but decides against it for no other reason than not wanting to leave you out here alone. Instead, he moves closer and leans against the railing. It's quiet between you both as you try to hide your tears. He looks at you from the corner of his eye a few times and scratches an eyebrow with his thumb. It’s odd to think the two of you were laughing and enjoying each other’s company only yesterday. "I cried in a supply closet the first time my kids died." He glances at your surprised face before looking back down at the view. He clears his throat around the words trapped in his throat. He’s never told anyone this before, he’s never wanted to. "A fourteen-year-old girl named Dahlia, and a sixteen-year-old boy named Nyle. They didn't even make it out of the Cornucopia." Nyle was decapitated by a tribute from One and Dahlia's throat was slit by a tribute from Seven. Finnick remembers crying so hard that he threw up in a mop bucket. "Why are you telling me this?" That is a good question. One with an answer Finnick doesn’t want to look too closely at, though it might—scratch that, it definitely has something to do with your big watery eyes staring up at him ingenuously. 
"Your first game as a mentor is always the hardest, and it doesn't get easier. But,” he shrugs and pulls the artfully folded, blue handkerchief out of his breast pocket, and hands it to you. Turns out this suit is good for something, "you do learn what to expect. You get used to that hurt, build up a tolerance to it." At least, he hopes so. This is his third year as a mentor and the burn is still there. How much longer until he tries to extinguish it by using substances? The Morphlings lasted two and four years, respectively. Haymitch lasted two months. You look between him and the handkerchief for a second before using it to wipe at your eyes. "It's completely different than being in the games. It's different watching." You whisper, barely loud enough to be heard over the wind. "Yeah. It is.” That's another thing they don't mention when you become a victor. The after is often worse than the during. It’s a thought he had when he saw you at your Victor Tour celebration. He doesn’t know what exactly made him ask you to dance, it could have been the tenseness you carried in your shoulders like a wounded animal being surrounded, or maybe it was the way your pretty face cracked and shattered like glass the longer the Capitols talked to you.
You were a commendable actor, sure, you’d certainly have fooled anyone else. But you just, you had looked so alone—completely overwhelmed with the piranhas circling you. So he threw you a line.
Your words swim through his head. 
And you want to save me? He didn’t say your assessment was right, in fact, he had ignored what you said entirely. But he never said you were wrong either. He doesn’t suddenly have a savior complex or anything, he’s got no delusions of being some kind of hero. It’s just. He knows how much he would have appreciated it if someone had stepped in on his behalf when he was fourteen, even for just a moment, It would have made all the difference. But there hadn’t been anyone. So, if he has the chance to change that for you—stop the crippling despondency before it sweeps you away—why wouldn’t he?
Finnick won’t overestimate his influence. If Snow gets to you, there’s very little he can do about it. But. It doesn’t seem like he’s made you the offer yet. Doesn’t that mean something? Snow is nothing if not punctual, very cut-throat in that regard. If he wanted something from you, he would have asked already, right? So maybe, he lets himself think, maybe you’re safe.
He looks up to the sky. One of the many things he hates about the Capitol is the smog. They're in the mountains, but the sky is so polluted it's hard to even see the moon sometimes. "Can you see the stars well in Eleven?" He asks, waving off your attempt to hand him back the handkerchief. You can burn it for all he cares. "Yeah,” you nod, "We focus on agriculture, so there are no mills or factories to pollute the air." You move closer to where he's leaning and look up. It feels almost instinctual to copy you, to get closer and fall into your orbit. "Hmm," he hums, "Same for Four. Ships come in and out of the harbor, but I don't think they do much damage." The calmest he's felt in his entire life is when he's staring up at the sky at night, sand under his feet, and waves crashing in the background. "A friend of mine loved looking at the stars. She never knew any of the constellations, so she'd make up her own with stories to go with them." Mags loved telling him all the stories she made up when she was his age. Even after the stroke took her ability to speak, she'd point up at a constellation and have Finnick retell them to her. "My dad knew the real constellations." There's a small, prideful grin on your face that he doubts you even know is there. But he does. He is very aware of it. "He'd tell them to me whenever we came back from harvesting." "The real constellations, huh?” He glances over his shoulder at the glass door leading inside. The game is down to its last few tributes. No one should come looking for either of you. "How about for every real story you tell me, I tell you a made-up one?" He grins at you, the bar of the balcony digging into his back as he turns around. Odd. He can’t remember the last time he’s been alone with someone—someone other than Mags and Annie—and has kept all of his clothes on. "Won't they miss you in there? I mean you’re definitely the main attraction in every room you're in." You nudge him gently with your elbow, looking up at him through wispy eyelashes. Your eyes are still a little red from your earlier crying, but they’re heavy and focused entirely on him. He's used to people flirting with him. Hell, he does it almost as readily as he breathes. But he isn't used to you flirting with him. That tentative way of yours makes him nervous. It’s nothing he’s used to. It feels too real. "I don't care what they think," he shrugs a shoulder, biting his lip to stop from smiling too broadly, "The real party's out here, anyway." You tilt your head, smiling up at him and his ears go warm. This is probably the fifth time he's talked to you and you've never smiled at him like that before.
“Deal.” You hold up your pinky to him, something so openly childish that he can’t help but laugh. 
“Deal.” He locks his pinky with yours and you nod at each other before dropping your hands.
"You see that up there? Those tiny clusters of stars," he watches your finger draw a W between five stars, "are called Cassiopeia. And those five stars above it are called Cepheus. They were husband and wife, queen and king. Cassiopeia offended Poseidon by saying her daughter, Andromeda, was more beautiful than the sea nymphs—close friends of his. So he punished her by sending a flood and a sea monster that would destroy their country unless they sacrificed Andromeda." Finnick looks from the sky to the side of your face as you continue talking. He follows the line of your jaw up to your mouth and watches as your full lips form the words of your story. The moon is full, the sky is bright, and he's entranced by more than just the stars. “After they died, Zeus put them in the sky together because Cepheus was a descendant of one of Zeus's lovers. A little weird, honestly.” Your face scrunches up in a decidedly cute way at the thought. “Cepheus sits with his scepter, and Cassiopeia sits chained to her throne as a punishment by Poseidon. As if having to sacrifice her daughter wasn’t enough. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?" 
“Yeah.” The yellow lights from inside blanket you from behind, while the moon’s white glare reflects in your eyes. “They are.” You catch him staring and look at him expectantly. You're starting to fidget and he realizes he’s been quiet for a concerning amount of time. “My friend…” he pauses and makes a quick decision, "My friend Mags, she calls that one the Turtle and the Fish. Eros was mischievous and vain, as most gods are. He wanted to show off to a sea nymph, so he made a turtle and a fish fall in love to prove his power transcended species. But fish don't live as long as turtles, and once its lover died, the turtle mourned for one hundred years at the bottom of the sea. Poseidon, who felt his subject's grief, put them together amongst the stars for all eternity." He turns to you and finds you staring at him. "What?" He asks with a laugh, embarrassed for whatever reason. "I know it’s pretty simple compared to yours, but—" He cuts himself off when you smile at him again. "No, I liked it." You nod at your own words like you're agreeing with yourself. "It was sweet. Your Poseidon is way nicer than mine. Maybe you can tell your friend one of my stories. To show her how different they are." You shrug like it's a dumb, throwaway idea, before turning away from him in a haste to look back up at the sky. 
He doesn’t understand. How can you just offer something like that like it’s nothing? You clearly loved your father very much and he picked up on the past tense when you talked about him. These stories are quite personal to you and he had assumed you hadn’t wanted them to be shared, but…Maybe he will tell her. 
“Oh. Good. I just—I’m not much of a storyteller, so…I might’ve completely butchered that.” He swears it sounds much better when he retells it to Mags.
“It was great, Finnick. You were great.” You pout up at him and it’s the most unfair shit Finnick’s ever seen. Made even worse by the fact that you’re defending him. To himself. “Can you tell me another one?” You ask guilelessly, and who is Finnick to say no?
“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”
Present (ii) - Finnick
[23 & 24] - District Four 
"Mags: milk and cinnamon," Finnick places two tea cups before the two women, "And, Annie: a spoonful of honey." Mags smiles up at him in thanks as Annie takes a sip. He walks back to the kitchen to pour his own cup. It’s odd. He hadn’t always been a tea drinker. But now he practically puts on a new cup for every occasion, entirely your influence. He rests against the counter, letting it dig into his hip. It wouldn't be long before Snow announced the stipulations for the third Quarter Quell and Finnick can admit in the safety of his own mind that he's nervous. There were whispers among the Capitols and none of it painted a pretty picture. One of his clients informed him about a new Gamemaker, supposedly some kind of creative genius. He rolls his eyes at the thought. Yeah, he bets the guy is absolutely brilliant at torturing children. He drops five sugar cubes into the tea before grabbing a licorice root to stir it with. He joins them on the couch, staring at the sliced berries floating in his cup. There's something in the air. Word travels fast in close circles and it's no secret that there are more and more riots breaking out in the districts. Katniss and Peeta's win is still fresh on everyone's tongue. Snow has stayed quiet and with the Quarter Quell on the horizon, Finnick knows it—he can feel it in the atoms of his very being that it was going to end badly. Or at the very least, worse than normal. What fresh hell will Snow come up with this time? Snow appears before a cheering crowd, foreboding even through the TV. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the seventy-fifth year of The Hunger Games. And it was written in the charter of The Games that every twenty-five years, there would be a Quarter Quell to keep fresh for each new generation the memory of those who died in the uprising against The Capitol." He places his cup on the table and leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by Games of a special significance. And now on this, the seventy-fifth anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the third Quarter Quell," Mags grabs onto his arm, frail fingers gripping his wrist. He wonders if she can feel the pulsing of his rapid heartbeat, "as a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of The Capitol. On this, the third Quarter Quell Games the male and female Tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of Victors in each district." Annie lets out a blood-curdling scream and it echoes past Finnick's ears. Her glass shatters on the ground and scalding tea splashes on his feet. He doesn't flinch. Normally, whenever Annie got like this, he would comfort her—talk her through it, but he can't move. The tributes will be reaped from the existing pool of victors and all of the victors of District Four are in this room. Mags’s physical state and Annie’s mental state guarantee one thing: regardless of who gets picked, they won't survive it. He'll be losing someone either way, and that's if he survives. If he survives, because Finnick is the only male victor for Four. There's no doubt, no one volunteering for him. He will be reaped and that, that was just— He rubs at his eyes with the base of his palms, fighting back a migraine. He makes a mental list: he'll be picked, Johanna and Blight will be picked, Chaff will be picked and— His hands move to pull at his roots. There are only two female victors in Eleven. There are only two, but Seeder loves you like she raised you herself. There's still hope, still a chance that you won't be picked, that she'll take your place if you're reaped. You'll be safe. And then, he remembers: Seeder is a mother, she's a wife. There are people that need her. He won't put it past Snow to rig the outcome for Eleven. He'll put Seeder's name in twice and pat himself on the back for seemingly ensuring your freedom. When, in reality, he's only ensured that you'll be in the arena. 
Finnick knows this because he knows you. Better than he knows anyone, better than he knows himself. He knows that you're brave, that you're stubborn enough to put a cabezon to shame, that you're stupidly compassionate. He knows that you'll never be able to live with yourself if you don't volunteer in her place. 
His head falls to the back of the couch. That's one thing he and Snow have in common, the only thing. Their love has damned you. Annie is mumbling to herself, having screamed herself hoarse at this point. But she keeps making jerking movements as if she wants to run. He steals a few breaths, taking a moment to gather himself—his fears, his hopes, his anger—he gathers it all and stores it away. "C'mon, Annie. Let's go outside for a walk." A stroll along the shoreline usually calms her down and he gets the allure. At least with the cooling breeze and the ocean mist from crashing waves, Finnick can close his eyes and pretend to be someone else. Someone unburdened with the fact that Snow was right, they are more similar than he'd like to admit. Because Seeder may have a family that relies on her, but Finnick can't find it in himself to care. He'd put her in the arena himself if it meant your safety. He stands, stepping around shards of glass and pools of cooling tea, pulling Annie up with him. He doesn't get far before Mags grabs his hand. She's worried, he can see it in her frown. She has every right to be. “I'm,” not fine, far from it, “right here, Mags. Don't worry about me.” He leaves behind Mags' concern and the sound of Caesar Flickerman's excited voice recounting Snow's speech. He pinches the skin between his thumb and index finger, pressing down until it hurts. Then he presses down until the muscle throbs. The sea breeze hits him in the face when he opens the door and he thinks. The boat is sinking and he can only swim for so long.
-
A/N: Side note, that was "stubborn enough to put a bull to shame" but I figured Finnick wouldn't know enough about bulls to know they're stubborn. So I picked the fish equivalent of a bull.
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tbcanary · 5 months
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arrowfam week day #2: confession
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“Okay,” Dinah says, fingers pressed to the bridge of her nose. “Who did it?”
The rose bushes are a disaster. All of her careful work, the delicate pruning of branches, has been pulled apart in favor of a paltry handful of buds spilled on the cement of their building’s roof. The bushes, in raised beds around the perimeter, are mangled corpses.
Predictably, Ollie steps forward first. He has the decency to look sheepish, too, twisting his hat in his hands. “Sorry, pretty bird. I wanted to put something together for—”
Dinah holds up a hand. She has to fight back a smile despite herself. He’s predictable, she’ll give him that. “Nuh-uh, stop. We both know it wasn’t you. Let them own up to it, Oliver, they’re big kids now.”
Oliver, properly chastised, mutters something along the lines of can’t even go protecting the innocent in my own damn home now?, before stepping back into the lineup. Dinah turns her gaze to the others gathered in front of her and raises an eyebrow expectantly.
“Well?”
Roy doesn’t budge. He cocks an eyebrow right back at Dinah and says, with all the surefire cockiness of someone who is used to lying to authority figures, “Hold the line, soldiers. She can’t break all of us.”
“I don’t have to break all of you, Speedy Senior,” Dinah says. She crouches down in front of her primary suspects and leans in close, hair slipping from behind her ear and tickling her cheek. “Just… one.”
Lian looks away first. Telling, too, that she immediately looks up to her father for guidance. She won’t break until he does – they all know that. A daddy’s girl, through and through. Dinah knows what that’s like; she can’t break that kind of blind faith.
But…
Sin’s lower lip wobbles. She glances up at Ollie, then Roy. She’s the weak link, here; Dinah doesn’t even really have to press. She just has to wait it out. Even with her background, such a little girl doesn’t have the patience to outlast Dinah in a staring match.
“It was me, sister!” Sin exclaims. She throws herself forward, wrapping her arms around Dinah’s shoulders and hiding her face in her neck. “I hurt flowers. I am sorry! Do not be mad.”
Dinah clicks her tongue. She glances up through her bangs at Ollie and Roy, neither of whom are willing to meet her eyes directly. Well, they can have it their way. Dinah hugs Sin back and pets her hair with one hand, straightening out tangles and knots.
“Oh, sweetie, I’m not mad,” she tuts. “I just wanted to know the truth. Thank you for being honest with me.”
Against her neck, Sin sniffs and nods pathetically. It makes Dinah’s heart seize up in her chest. She smiles, just a little, and scoops Sin up in her arms as she stands. Sin squeals and hugs her tighter, little fingers scrambling to find purchase against the smooth skin of Dinah’s shoulders.
“Now, since you told the truth, I say we should go have a little treat,” Dinah says. She makes sure her voice is loud enough to be heard, even as she turns to retreat into the apartment building. “What do you say we have some ice cream, huh?”
As if on cue, Lian lets out a shriek of offense. “Aunt Dinah! You didn’t say there was ice cream! Come back, I cut the roses too, I’m sorry!”
Her little feet pound against the roof as she hurries to catch up. Behind her, Ollie and Roy shout something about traitor and sell-out, but Lian doesn’t seem bothered at all. Dinah holds out a hand for her as she approaches. They hold hands and walk through the open door of the stairwell, headed back to the land of air conditioning and sweet treats.
“You must promise that you are not mad,” Sin insists, as Dinah begins her perilous trek down the stairs. “Please?”
Dinah sighs and rolls her eyes. “Oh, I was never mad at you, girls. You’re just doing what the boys told you. But I need you to make me a promise, okay?”
Lian and Sin, in their chirpy almost-unison, offer all kinds of confirmation and promises they can’t keep. Dinah doesn’t mind that too much; they mean well.
“Don't ever lie to me. And, whatever you do, do not let Ollie know there’s rocky road in the freezer,” she whispers conspiratorially. “That one’s just for us.”
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strawberryvmp · 2 years
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Idiot Lipstick!
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Chapter 1:Meet the weird cult guy by yourself!?!?
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Pairing:Eddie Munson x Shy Bimbo Reader
☆Tags: Reader been dumb and sensitive, Soft Boi Eddie, Bossy/Asshole Best Friend, Mentions of human sacrifice, Also mentions of cults and devil,mentions drugs
((☆This story takes place before the whole events of the shows actually begin.Also this story is Plus-sized friendly and POC friendly!Have fun reading beautiful people!
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"Why me!" You said in a soft irritated tone with your cheek puffed up. "Because! I don't want to be near that freak! God forbidden what he does in those damn woods." She snorted after her sentence about Eddie Munson 'The School Freak'. You always wonder why everyone in school calls him that maybe because of the way he dressed?Or! Could it be that he plays music from his van during his free period that has people screaming in the background with loud guitar melody in the background mixing in with the blood screaming? Who knows? Everyone who attends this crappy high school are usually assholes or just antisocial sucking in their own little groups.
"(Y/N)!"
"(Y/N)!"
"(Y/N)!"
Your best friend grabbed your attention by snapping her fingers in front of your face multiple times. "Hello!Anyone home in that stupid brain of yours!" She hit you upside in your head. "Ow!" You rubbed the side of your head softly. "You meanie...Why did you hit me?" You said in your usually soft tone. "Because you zoned out again for the fourth time again today! You should really get that checked out." She said in an annoying tone. "Do I really have to do it! He scares me and you heard about the rumor going around about him…." You froze for a second and leaned over to whisper in her ear. "Owning a cult…." Your best friend busted into her ugly laugh. "Are you kidding me! Is poor little innocent (Y/N) scared of the big scary Eddie Munson who lives in his van!"She started poking your sides and kept laughing at you. "I'm being serious! What if he uses me as a human sacrifice to his cult!"You gasp the thought of you being laid on a table and seeing Eddie wear a black cult robe to suffice you to his demon lord! Made your skin crawl!
You gripped on your best friend's arms and started shedding tears ruining your eye makeup in the process. "Please! I'm too young to die! I want to live my life to the fullest! I want to see Hollywood and at least see London-" Your friend gripped on your shoulders tightly and started shaking you gently."Calm the fuck down you crybaby! You're not going to be a human sacrifice! Be realistic (Y/N) he just some weird guy who sells drugs and can't even pass fucking English!" She stopped shaking you and sighed under her breath.
"(Y/N)" please. Can you please do this for your bestie. Just this one favor." She gave you a soft smile. She knew exactly how to pull at your heart strings using the bestie line with you and showing her more sensitive side of herself. But can you really say no to her? She is literally the only person you talk to ever since middle school. She was the only person who let you hangout with her and her other friends during lunchtime and really the only person that didn't ignore you. "Please bestie." She said again. You sighed softly and nodded yes to her. She clapped her hands together and jumped up and down in excitement. "Thank you so much bestie!"she hugs you tightly almost losing your breath during her hugging you. "I can't breathe…" You patted her back roughly, she let go of you and started digging into her lavender backpack. "What are you looking for?" You squint your eyebrows. "Money duh." She took out her pastel pink wallet and handed you two twenty dollars. "Alright listen closely you potato. I need two bags of weed and paper to roll up blunts. Got it (Y/N)?" To be honest you already forgot what she said. "Ummm...Five blunt papers and a quarter of weed…?" You squint your eyebrows even more mostly in pure confusion. "Took you listen closely!"She pinched your left cheek."Ow!" She lets go off your cheek and starts digging in her lavender backpack again."I just write it down for you since you can't remember shit! You have a brain of a fucking goldfish but worst!" She ripped an empty notebook page and started writing down the items she needed from Eddie. "Here, goldfish!"She slammed the notebook paper against your chest."Meet him at the empty picnic table in the woods okay. After that meet me in the parking lot." You held the piece of paper against your chest tightly and nodded your head.
You started walking into the creepy forest to meet a drug dealer who mostly likely owns a cult! You keep walking, clunking your (Favorite color☆) backpack tightly that was hanging off your shoulder while your cute keychain dingle from one of your zippers every moment you made your keychains would make a clicking sound. You keep walking in deeper on the woods looking for the picnic table to meet Eddie and grab these stupid ideas for your friend. It was quite peaceful in the forest hearing the birds chirp and just a peaceful ending in general. Everything was fine until you snapped on a stick and scared your own self which made you run like a bat out of hell. You keep running until you see the empty picnic table in the middle of the open. You stopped running looking around and taking deep breaths from your little workout you had. You walked over to the small picnic table and had a seat. You took the money and piece of notebook paper you reversed from your friend earlier today. You held the items close to your chest and waited.
It felt like an hour had passed away waiting for Eddie. You started to grow tired and anxious. 'Maybe his demon lord finally got him! Or he forgot about the meet up after school!' You said to yourself. Your thoughts were interrupted by a sudden snap coming from the trees when you heard some type of chain hitting something. The chain sound was getting louder and closer to you. Your whole body started shaking slightly and you kept staring at trees where the metal sound was coming from.
'OH MY GOSH! I'M GOING TO BE A HUMAN SACRIFICE!!!!!'
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Look at how my tears ricochet.
(or the unoverse fic)
(part 2)
(the MuSan is less subtle and more tragic because hell yeah, but it still could be seen as platonic since the plot is focus on the angst and not on the romance at all)
(also some background HanKisa if you squint it)
(link to ao3, in case someone prefers to read it there)
Introduction and Part 1 here. Read it before for this to make sense!
I want to dedicate this chapter to @souyaddiction because your post of this morning gave me the hype to finally sit down and end it because it was half-done for more than a month. So thanks, really. your words meant a lot! (and for the rest of you, don't hesitate to comment on the fics you like, it will make an author so damn happy 💜)
Also, a song for this chapter, courtesy of @just-sp-in-inginthevoid and their amazing Sanzu playlist!
Warnings: Angst and hurt/no comfort. Sanzu is having another mental breakdown (once for chapter, seems like a good ratio I guess?🤔). Mental health issues and a lot of self-hate because lil gremlin is not having a good time. I promise the ending will be bittersweet and have some hope on it (but not for Sanzu, sorry blorbo!)
MANGA SPOILERS! (Sanzu's mind it's a big manga spoiler)
Notes: Okay, I know I said it would change POV between Kisaki and Sanzu, but I don't know how to write Kisaki, his mind is a total mystery for me. So...this is Sanzu's POV again because thank god he's a stalker and I could fit all the plot just with his point of view. I don't feel too confident with the part of Kisaki's dialogue, but I did my best, I hope he doesn't sound OoC! (also, the thought on Kisaki and Hanma belong to Sanzu, not me, I love my HanKisa weirdos)
Next chapter will be the last one, yuhuuuu! Stay tunned 💜
'This are his intrusive thoughts' and 'This are his regular thoughts'! I was trying to show how broken his mind already is and this seemed like the best way in my head of showing it, I hope it makes sense :)
Also, I did that game with the names again because I love it. I used "Haruchiyo" when he feels more vulnerable, more emotional. And "Sanzu" when he's trying to hide this vulnerability or more close to the edge, to becoming that deranged Sanzu that we saw in Kanto Manji and Bonten.
(Same for "Mucho" and "Muto", since is Sanzu's pov the first one is used in more affectionate moments)
(English is not my first language, so be nice please 🙈)
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To be honest, Sanzu is bored. He's plan was pretty simple: following Kisaki around until he discovers something he can use. It's also really easy to do it, at least for him. He's too used to being a shadow, to not being looked twice. Something that used to be painful but plays in his favor when he needs to spy on someone. 'Sure, keep lying to yourself, you love being nothing more than a mere shadow for everyone. Always so easy to ignore.'
After more than two weeks of doing this, the most interesting thing that happened was when Kisaki managed to make Hanma a new captain in Toman, pulling off an alliance that apparently impressed some of the other captains. Haruchiyo felt a punch in his gut at this, as if this decision was the same as spitting on Baji's memory. But he shut up, even if he couldn't understand why Mikey did this, at the end of the day, who was he to question the king's decisions?
If Mikey had asked Sanzu about this, he would've said it was a terrible idea. But he didn't, no one asked him, so he just kept his opinion for himself. 'No one ever asks you anything that actually matters, right? Because they don't trust you.' 'That's not true, Baji trusted me. That's why I'm doing this, I can't let him down.'
His own thoughts are starting to go out of control (again) and Sanzu is sure that the cause is this tedium. 'Do something, fucker! Plan a murder, plot some evil shit or whatever!' But no, Kisaki just keeps doing the same routine almost every freaking day (at least that allows him to still keep an eye on Mikey, since Kisaki actually goes to class, that bastard it's so boring). He tries to distract himself wondering why on Earth Hanma looks so amused around the boy with glasses, like he was in some kind of circus. 'What a freak, he genuinely likes spending time with that fucker'.
To be honest, Sanzu actually learned some important things spying on Kisaki. Like how he never locks his window at night, giving Hanma the freedom to sneak in and out of his room. The scarred boy felt like Christmas came earlier the day he discovered that, a maniacal grin under his mask.
He also learned that Kisaki was panicking after the stunt that Baji pulled on him. Haruchiyo loves knowing that Baji left such a big mark, a force of nature until the very end. But that's not all, Kisaki is scared. He doesn't want to deal with another one of Mikey's childhood friends wreaking havoc on his plans. So, apparently, Sanzu is next in line.
Not that Sanzu is complaining (at all). It makes his job easier, actually. No need to be worried about collateral damage if he's the target. The only thing he has to do, is discovering how Kisaki is going to try to put him out of the picture. Once he knows, he'll find a way to mess with that plan and kill the bastard. No middle points, he's not going to risk it (Baji is already dead, he can't risk it).
'Maybe his plan is killing me from boredom. And it's working.' He almost laughs out loud with this thought, but Hanma and Kisaki are close now, he has to keep it quite. Shrinking himself further into the shadows of the alley, Sanzu tries to sharpen his hearing.
“You've been talking for ages about how you're going to take down the 5th Division vice-captain, but you still didn't tell me exactly how. C'mon Kisaki, don't be mean, you know my curiosity is piqued!”
Hanma speaks so loud that it's quite easy to hear, always acting like he was on a theater. Unfortunately, the other boy is more cautious, so he's unable to grasp everything.
“...Toman's traitor. He'll be the key... he should arrive in a few minutes. Be a good pawn and stop whining.”
The taller boy grins at that, but Sanzu is not really paying attention to their weird dynamic anymore, his efforts are finally paying off. And it's better than he imagined, he's going to be able to uncover a traitor in Toman!
If it weren't for the fact that he's being sneaky, Sanzu would jump from excitement right now. Obviously, it would be much better if there wasn't a snake within the gang, but one of the many things he learned from his captain, is that there is always going to be scabs. That's why the task of the 5th Division is to purge them.
So yes, maybe Sanzu shouldn't be this happy about this. 'You definitely shouldn't, are you glad of having to kill someone else?' He ignores his stupid brain, because he knows that's not it. He isn't glad with the idea of having to do that. He doesn't want to become a murderer, he just wants to protect Mikey. And he's willing to pay the cost.
But that's not it. Not all, at least. He's about to find a traitor all on his own, without any type of help (well, with Baji's help to be fair). Haruchiyo is going to prove his value to his captain, he's going to show how useful he can be. He's sure that Mucho will look at him with a delighted smile on his face, that he'll compliment his skills and his hard work.
Yes, that's it. He'll protect Mikey, he'll honor Baji's last will and he'll make his captain proud of him. Mucho will see that he's more than a wild animal that needed to be tamed. His captain will see that he's worthy, he's certain of it. And Haruchiyo will finally be able to believe it, to feel like more than just a nuisance. 'Are you really worthy?' 'Yes, I am. I'm going to be after this.'
The minutes seem to be passing slower until, finally, the three boys catch the sound of someone approaching them. Sanzu makes sure again they can't see him, trying to be one with the darkness that surrounds him. Until the person arrives and he almost stumbles against the wall from the shock. What is his captain doing here? 'Maybe he knows? Maybe he discovered what this two were planning. Yeah, it has to be that!'
He feels a excitement through his body at the idea that they can take Kisaki down together. Like it should be. But something inside his brain is telling him to wait, to evaluate the situation before. 'You say it yourself, you can't risk it. Are you gonna bet Mikey's life on Muto?' Sanzu shakes his head and decides to listen. 'Just in case, right?'
The 5th division captain stamps Kisaki against the wall, fury flowing on his eyes, keeping Hanma away with the other hand.
“What makes you think you have any right to call me here, Kisaki?” The voice is calm but harsh at the same time.
The boy with glasses just laugh and puts his hands up, showing a false submission and calming his lap dog with a gesture.
“Calm down, Muto, I just wanted a few words with you. We have a friend in common, don't we?”
Sanzu ears perk up with this, unsure of what he should think of that. But his captain seems to understand, because he loosens his grip, allowing the bastard to be free.
“Izana.” Muto only grumbles one word, but it's enough for Kisaki to show a satisfied smile on his hideous face.
“I knew we could understand each other. Now that we clear out the issue of your loyalty, there something... Some one, in the middle of the way to crush Mikey like Izana wants, isn't it?”
Muto just clenches his fits, his knuckles getting almost white. But he doesn't deny the words, he doesn't deny that he is... A traitor? 'No, he can't be. No. No' 'Are you sure? He looks like one. Still happy about it?' 'Shut up, he can't be. He can't.'
“Would you kill for Izana, Muto?” Kisaki's voice feels like a poison, rotting away everything Haruchiyo used to know about his captain.
“What do you want exactly? I don't have time for your little games, go to the point.”
“Sanzu. Your vice-captain is too close to Mikey, knows to much. He could jeopardize Izana's plans to isolate Mikey. Sanzu must go, is that simple.”
A fist punches the wall, right next to Kisaki's face. The boy flinches for a second, but keep his composure.
“That simple? No. I know Sanzu, he's loyal to me, he isn't going to do shit without orders.”
The scarred boy wants to laugh at the irony, they both thought they knew each other so well, didn't they? And they were both wrong. So, so wrong.
“Oh, really? Do you think Sanzu would still follow you around once you betray Mikey?” His voice gives off a false sweetness. “After what you saw in that funeral?”
Muto just purses his lips at that, almost like it the first time he has to confront this fact. That he can't have everything.
“I see you understand now. Don't worry, I'm merciful, I'll let you a few days to think about it.”
This are the last words that Haruchiyo is able to comprehend, his mind, his whole world, seems to be spinning out of control. He tries to stabilize his own body leaning against the wall, feeling too dizzy, ends up slipping to the ground. He's shaking, not realizing how much time has passed, but the others are no longer in his sight anymore.
Taking off his mask, he throws up, feeling sick. 'This is too much, this can't be...Mucho... I trusted him.' 'Did you? You kept so many secrets from him, didn't you?' 'Because I promised to Shinichiro, that's different!'
Haruchiyo just wants to scream, to bang his head against the wall, to disappear swallowed by the shadows of the alley. He can't even go back home. 'What home? The one you share with that damn impostor?' But he should, he should pull himself together or he'll compromise his plan.
A pair of dark eyes come to his mind, a reminder of why he's doing all of this. 'Mikey. I can't fail him. He's the only one that matters, Muto can burn in hell.' 'Are you going to be the one sending him there? Can you really do that? After everything he gave you?'
Sanzu steadies his own breathe, trying to focus on his mission, on what he knows it's the right thing to do. He's finally able to start walking, the breeze of the night helping him to come back to reality. 'Yes, I can do it. The only thing he gave me was lies, it means nothing. It never meant anything, anyway.'
He can hear that annoying voice inside his brain laughing at him and oh, he hates it so much, he hates his own brain so fucking much. 'That's it, then? You'll just keep the lies going on, use him to get to Kisaki and kill them both?' 'Yes.' 'And how far will you go with your lies? Are you going to snuggle against him in bed tonight? To ask him for affection like a desperate puppy like you always do?'
He stops on his track at that, unsure of how to handle it, if he'll be able to pretend like this tonight. Maybe he doesn't need to, it wouldn't be the first time that he spends the night out, his captain never asked too much questions before. That's it, he can just sleep in one of his old hidings and think carefully about how to get rid of those two bastards. Face Muto tomorrow, prepare himself before.
'I'm going to use that fucking betrayer to get to Kisaki, they'll regret trying to stab Mikey's back. I'm going to make sure of that.' Sanzu smirks cruelly with this thought, savoring the idea. The punishment. He'll be the one imparting justice in the king's name. And he'll enjoy it, it doesn't matter who receives the penalty. They should've known better. His captain should've known better. 'You should've known better than trust him too.'
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When the morning comes, Muto is not in their small apartment. He seems to just left, most of his things aren't there. A shoji board and and old leather jacket that Haruchiyo used to steal from him seem to be the only important possessions his captain left behind. 'Coward, he's a damn coward.'
Sanzu is burning in rage, a renewed feeling of betrayal growing inside of him, staining and corrupting his already broken mind. 'What are you going to do now? You were too weak to face him when you had the chance and he ran away. You failed. Again.' 'No, I didn't, I still know how to get to Kisaki. No more waiting.'
The place feels suffocating without Muto's calm presence, but it doesn't matter, he knows exactly what he needs to take from his own room.
In the middle of the night, a silent shadow climbs until he's manages to sneak through the unlocked window. Stepping inside, he waits until his eyes get used to the darkness of the room.
“Hanma?” A sleepy voice asks with a not-so-subtle insecurity lingering in it.
“Wrong answer, fucker.” Sanzu snickers, before slamming Kisaki's head with the hilt of his katana, knocking the boy unconscious.
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lackingspace · 1 year
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Lesson in Silence (Kylo Ren x Reader x Knights)
Chapter 3 - Lesson 3
Word Count: 4.5k
Warnings: Crude language, some innuendos, some touching. It's a slowish burn, what can I say.
Author Note: ok, if it wasn't clear before then it is now. Knights are a big part of the plot. I'm taking liberties with their personalities, capabilities, and anything else I feel is within reason. Well just see what happens. As always, thank Tina for giving me inspiration ✨
✧・゚: *✧・゚
AO3 Link: Lesson 3
Prev Ch: Lesson 2
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Narrowing your eyes while pursing your lips at the implication that Albrekh had conned you. He hadn't. Not like you really charged much for mods, especially to people in the first order network, you weren't even supposed to do it in the first place much less take real payment for it. 
Albrekh had even slid you more credits than what you'd asked for. He took care of you and you were more than happy to keep him supplied. 
You'd actually known him before joining the first order. Long after you'd taken a fabricated background and identity, but still, he was a long-standing contact. Having met him through an arms dealer, Jace. 
A Sullustans you'd been selling mods to for quick credits in a bind. He'd had grand plans to broker deals with the combination of yours and Albrekh's work together rather than separately. Able to charge a high price for custom-made fully modded weapons. 
Too bad he'd gone missing not long after you were introduced. Word in the network said he'd brokered a deal that went south and hadn't made it out. You'd kept in contact with Albrekh though, he paid well and was good at his craft. 
When you came on board as an officer for the order he'd sent you an encrypted message. You'd known he worked for the order somewhere, but you'd never felt the need to ask. Thinking he was offworld or on a base somewhere. 
You hadn't realized he must work with the knights regularly.  
Every few weeks he was asking for different modifications, he'd even dropped formalities and messaged something generally along the lines of, 'Cardo blew the last one, needs something new.'
"Albrekh didn't say the laser brain who blows my mods was a Knight." You couldn't tell what look he was giving you, but from the cocked hip and head tilt your bet was a smirk, "With the way you're on your knees for Vic, don't think you really mind us." Jaw clenching at the crass remark as you flicked your gaze back in Vicrul's direction. 
He straightened up to his full height, still standing close enough that if you wanted to press against his leg it was only a matter of shuffling an inch or so. Tempting. But you dragged your eyes up farther– arms recrossed, he dripped intimidation and power. 
All the knights towered over you, but kneeling at his feet made him seem even more massive. The slow lingering draw of your eyes from boot to mask– steady and deliberate, made to be obvious, before turning back to Cardo. You leveled him with a flat look to match your candid tone, "Vicrul's hot." 
The guff modulated chuckle from behind you had the corner of your lip flick up into a smirk and stomach clench. Suppressing your smirk in favor of narrowing your eyes at the knight in front of you, "Vicrul hasn't melted my anvil compressor either." 
That got a chuckle from Trudgen while Cardo's shoulders tensed at the sound, "She got you there. Thought I'd have to cut your arm off with how warped it was." 
Cardo was silent for a few tense moments before he questioned, "The anvil was your make too?" The question held a genuine surprise. 
The anvil compressor had happened a few years ago, likely he was surprised you'd made his mods for so long, "Yeah, it was mine." Your sour look melted from your features like he'd done to the mod, "Honestly, I'd bet almost all your mods come from me. Albrekh and I go back long before I joined the order." 
Cardo took a step towards you, "The double tap? Shutter shot? Cooling threaded tempo? Those yours?" You gave a nod, "Yeah, heard you really liked the tempo." Tilting your head as you spoke, "Actually, that makes sense. Kinda hard to melt that one." Cardo covered the short distance between the mat and you. 
He hadn't said a word as he walked, finally standing in front of you as you looked up towards his masked face, "You've been making my favorite mods for years." Unsure if he was making a statement or if it was a question, you to give a tentative answer of, "...yes?" He reached down with both hands settling on your shoulders before yanking you into a standing position. 
"Sorry Vic, I'm gonna borrow your new girl for a minute." You let out a choked noise at the phrase 'your new girl'– like Vicrul had some claim to you. 
But you had just called him hot…and let him manhandle you without protest…ugh, really you shouldn't have enjoyed it…or still quietly entertaining the thought that maybe it wouldn't be so bad messing around with him. 
He was a Knight for kriffing sake– the group you were hiding from. Something was wrong with you. Today was cursed, that had to be it. First the ghostly master, then the Commander, the knights, and now you'd lost any sense of self-preservation because a guy scratched an itch you hadn't been able to satisfy in years.
The last hour of today seemed like if there was a bad decision you could make, it was your first and only choice. 
Chancing a glance back at the man in question had him uncrossing his arms and outstretching one in an expression that said 'be my guest'. 
Force only knew what Vicrul would do with your idiotic admission. Sure he was hot, Sure his imposing figure gave you bad ideas, but you didn't need to add jet fuel to the kriffing fire by telling him that. 
You highly doubted he'd let it die in this room. You should feel dread and anxiety at the possibility of him, or any of them really, seeking you out after this. 
The thing that solidified how much trouble you were in was that the thought of Vicrul chasing after you didn't fill you with cold dread, but instead it was a hot anticipation. 
A reckless excitement for whatever he would do. Recklessness was something your master would have been more abhorred at than the liaison you were contemplating.
And she would have been right to do so. This was a bad idea, but your emotional brain was getting the best of you. Damned as soon as you'd felt his want for you to submit. You shouldn't want his attention, any of their attention, force forbid they drew their master's gaze back to you. 
With Cardo knowing you were his supplier things were already bound to become more precarious. None of your decisions here had been cautious in any capacity.
"Look, check this out." Cardo had pulled you to a small pile next to the mats. He reached in and pulled his cannon from the floor before handing it to you, "The kinetic feeder housing is too bulky. Doesn't sit comfortably inside like the others– Its ass sticks out of the casing." 
Turning the cannon over in your hands, appreciating the solid and deadly design. You'd never actually seen it before, only the blueprints. You were waiting on a question or for him to continue, but when he didn't, you answered with a tentative, "Uh, yeah." 
There was a beat before he responded, "Dank ferrik, I want you to fix it, girl." You stared at him in confusion for a second, "Fix…it?" Realization dawned on you, "Do you not read my notes?" It was his turn to sound confused, "Notes?" 
Raising one hand to pinch at the bridge of your nose, "Albrekh hasn't given you my notes? Or do you just ignore them?" Silence met you, meaning it could be either one. Trudgen called out from the other side of the mat, "Albrekh probably thought he couldn't read." 
You sighed as Cardo shouted expletives at his friend, "Ok, listen," Shooting him a quick glance to make sure you had his attention. At the tilt of his mask you carried on, "This," stressing the syllable as you slid a finger across the edge of the metal sticking up, "is a feature. It doesn't need to be fixed." 
Giving him a pointed look before continuing, "The feeder doesn't just utilize excess energy from firing the cannon. It also absorbs blaster fire and converts it to boost your next shot." You expected something from him but were disappointed.
At his silence, you broke it down even more, "Catch blasts with the cannon and this," giving the metal a small flick, "Will retract down signaling it's powered up." 
The disbelief came through the helmet's modulation clearly, "You want me to get shot?" Cardo had the ability to get under your skin more easily than most people. Probably because you'd spent years wondering what kind of kriffing prick he had to be to break your work so often.
His brainlessness grated on your already strained nerves which made you careless. Being careless was extremely dangerous. You were breaking all sorts of self-imposed rules this afternoon. The flare of your irritation dulled the logical screaming in the back of your mind to stop talking. Stop heckling. Stop digging your own grave.
The words spat out before you could stop it, "From what I hear you're always getting shot at anyways. Just hold your kriffing arm out." Both Vicrul and Trudgen laughed at your barb. 
Cardo's head tilted as he regarded you. Unsure if it was in anger or the plethora of other emotions he, none of them, were supposed to be capable of. The knights should have been cold, cruel, and dead inside. Like all the rumors sprouted about them. Would have been so easy to navigate around them if it had been true.
But they were lively– rowdy, opportunistic, and aggressive, certainly. Overflowing with snide comments that brought out your own attitude. A brattiness that wanted to defy their brutish manner. Even Vicrul's brash assault betrayed a frenzied warmth beneath the manipulation. It drew you in before you had a chance to disconnect.
Master had always hated how emotional you were. Nothing but a liability. And she wouldn't stand for anything compromising the mission– so she'd tried to kill it. Typically you were good at keeping your work and personal relationships nonchalant. Friendly, definitely sarcasm filled, but overall distanced. Seemed like all it took was a domineering group of men to spark your rebellion.
The inspection lasted long enough for you to know whatever he'd say next wasn't good. He turned towards Vicrul as he spoke, "I like this one. When you get tired of her, send her to me." You snorted in disgust and grumbled at the back of his helmeted head, "I'm not fucking you." 
Cardo turned back to you. He was large and solid– they all were, but it was then that you consciously registered it about him. The air shifted to something heavy as the cool textured leather of his coat brushed your bare arm as he leaned in. Mask angled down as he caught a stray strand of your hair, "No?" 
Jutting your bottom lip out in defiance with narrowed eyes. Speaking in a voice that stressed your finality on the issue, "No." He dropped the strand to pinch your chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning your face left and right, "Shame." 
Something bloomed in the pit of your stomach that was more than simple embarrassment. A pleasant warmth twisting your gut and flaring that heat his friend had already been fanning. Ripping your face from his grasp to spit out another assertion, "That goes for all of you. I'm not fucking anyone." 
Vicrul spoke before the words died in your throat, "We both know that's a lie, princess." 
Cheeks flushed with another wave of warmth at the implication and new pet name. Whipping your gaze towards him had you watch as he pushed away from the pillar to roll his neck. He was just as imposing as when you knelt before him. Staring you down when his brash mental presence blindsided your senses again. 
"I was going to go easy and save you the embarrassment of begging. You've been more entertaining than these two half-wits." Rolling his shoulders before continuing, "But brats always find a way to get punished." The force pouring the fabricated panic into you at his will. Breath shuttering out of your lungs, biting your lip at the sudden shift of emotions, eyes glued to his form.
Cardo's elbow jabbing sharply into your ribs pulled your attention off your fixation, "Looks like you made daddy mad." Brows instantly furrowed as your nose scrunched in a sneer. His only response was modulated laughter as he moved away, back towards Trudgen. Calling over his shoulder, "Vic's a fan of spanking, your ass is gonna be rawhide before he's satisfied."  
Sputtering as Vicrul was still painting your insides with terror, all you could manage was, "Do I want to know how you know what he likes?" 
Trudgen answered for him with a shrug, "We're brothers– we talk" his mask hid his gaze, but from the deliberate up and down drag across your form, similar to the one you'd done, there wasn't any doubt what he was doing, "…and we like to share." 
Closing your eyes as the admission sent a tingle down your spine and that felt too good mixing with what his brother was doing. It sparked inappropriate thoughts that didn't need to be acknowledged. 
Can't I just go back to the kriffing shop? The thought a desperate plea to the invisible force. Or your bunk. You deserve some rest after this whole fiasco. Honestly, if you could rewind today you'd just have stayed in bed. But the force didn't work like that.
When your eyes opened Vicrul was giving you an order in the form of his index finger curling towards himself. At your small step, he pushed another crushing wave against your senses, the dread sliding down your back into the pit of your stomach. He spoke a single word, "Crawl." 
Now that the Commander wasn't lurking behind your eyes, you could deal with his influence easier– but you couldn't filter it out completely.
The demand had more heat mixing with the fear. Damn your weakness for men like the Commander; like Vicrul. You'd have to put a stop to this once you left the gym. 
A bead of cold sweat ran down your spine. Knowing where the awful sensation was coming from keeping you from true panic, but it still caused a strong physiological reaction.
Feeling his mental presence bashing against your own had you miss the subtlety of his master. But as reckless as you were being, you didn't want Commander Ren anywhere near you, physical or otherwise. No matter how pleasant his lazy strokes felt. You'd take the rudimentary assault of his apprentice. 
Vicrul was like a crowbar to a tightly chained door while his master was a lockpick. One decidedly much more dangerous than the other.  
Your mind was largely your own with Vicrul. The threat was only marginally less, but you'd take any advantage. Although, you had a sneaking suspicion that Vicrul was more similar to you than you initially pegged him for. 
He might not be able to breach your thoughts, but the more time he spent violently lashing against you it gave you opportunity to judge his capabilities without much effort. He could definitely sense your emotions. 
The kriffing ass likes this.
Rough laughter from Cardo had you shooting a look of visceral annoyance his way as you slowly complied to Vicrul's demand, "Shut it, Cardo. Next time you short-circuit a processor and the cannon backfires don't expect me to mod for you again." Lowering your voice to just above a whisper as shuffled across the mat, "Kriffing mudscuffer always shorting mods." 
His laughter cut off, "What the kriffing hell is Albrekh telling you?" You didn't bother looking at him as you answered, "I get curious when you need mods so damn often. He just tells me how you break them." 
Trudgen cut off whatever Cardo would have said, "You're just pissy Vic is giving you what you deserve. Should watch your mouth next time." He was right on both fronts. You were pissed that it seemed impossible to shut your mouth around them. Equally, if not more so, angry at yourself for how easily Vicrul could affect you. 
You had to deal with their antics to a degree, but you'd certainly made it worse for yourself by being firey. Something different than the regular sniveling doormat most of your coworkers would have become. 
When you finally reached the Knight's side, you looked up in quiet insolence. You might be playing his game, even enjoying how authoritative he was, but you didn't have to be happy about it. He reached a gloved hand down to pat the top of your head in a demeaning way, "Stop pouting, pet. Gives me too many ideas." He looked back to his friends, "Get to grappling or were done here." 
Trudgen cracked his knuckles while offhandedly answering, "Impatient Vic?" Cardo chuckled and ribbed him next, "Want to keep her all to yourself, huh?" 
There wasn't a verbal response, but you could feel the force twisting off him. This time it wasn't directed your way. Instead, Cardo's spine stiffened as he let out a hissed curse, "Son of a twi'lek whore, Vic! Fuck Kylo for teaching you that shit." 
An unexpected hushed snicker left you. It was…amusing? Not quite the right word, but they were all so…casual? The familiarity they spoke to each other with or about each other, even about the Commander, surprised you. It gave a strange normalcy to the highly trained force-sensitive killing squad. 
The pressure of the force only increased at the insult, "Fine, fine! We're done, so knock it off. Kriffing hate when you get durasteel up your ass." It was Vicrul's turn to chuckle as you felt his exertion on the force dissipate.
Cardo elbowed Trudgen, "Besides Tru couldn't take another ass kicking." The jab was returned with a kick to the side of Cardo's knee, "Pussy. You're afraid the girly doesn't like you and will lean in my favor." The two men started trading jabs back and forth until they quickly devolved into fighting anyways. 
"Enough!" The frustration, or impatience, was dripping from Vicrul's acerbic tone, "Head back to Ren or the ship. I don't care, just fucking leave." The last word was a hiss from his modulated mask leaving no room for arguing. 
His comrades didn't seem to take the demand like the threat you interpreted it as. Instead they took their time separating, guffawing echoing off the two as they collected their weapons. Vicrul's hand settled on your shoulder– grip curling around your much smaller frame 
Your jaw clenched as you felt the frustration roll off him– with you or the other two occupants, you couldn't determine. The two slowly made their way towards the main entrance of the gym, Trudgen calling behind him, "Don't have too much fun, Vic. Kylo's still expecting us." 
Cardo echoed behind him, "Good luck sitting tomorrow, girly. " Their snide snickering the last sound to reverberate off the walls as the plasteel door slid close behind them. As the silence stretched your anxiety skyrocketed. Refusing to look up at the Knight that loomed over you. Being alone with him left too many possibilities. If you looked up at him, you were half afraid you'd act on your earlier desires. 
His hand flexed against your shoulder before you were swiftly hauled up and thrown into the nearest wall. It wasn't a gentle toss either, knocking the breath in your lungs clean out. Before you caught your breath Vicrul was crowding in. Arms slammed down next to your head boxing you in. You clenched your jaw as his chest pressed against yours. The heavy texture of his armor easily felt through the thin fabric of your workout top.
"They think I'm going to fuck you." Your brows pinched, hadn't that been why he was so impatient? Holding what you hoped to be his gaze you pressed into him lightly, "Aren't you?" One of his hands lowered to grip your cheeks. 
Thumb pressed into one side harshly while his fingers rested against the flesh of your other. The leather softer than you'd expect for as rugged as they looked. The leathery scent surrounding your senses, "Haven't decided if you deserve my cock." 
The only thing you could think to say was, "Who's lying now?" He'd made a whole scene earlier, but maybe this what part of the punishment he'd deemed you warranted? 
Anxiety was creeping in, settling like a bird making a nest high in your chest, "What else do you need me alone for?" His hand tightened the grip causing your lips to pucker, "I don't need you alone to fuck you. I'd have let them watch." 
You choked at his answer, but he continued, "I'm going to ask you a question, and you're going to answer." 
Fear, real fear trickled through your veins. Cooling your blood and kicking your mind into high gear. Worse still, Vicrul's psychic presence pressed into you. Not bashing, not crashing, not trying to overrun your emotions. Just pressing into your extra sense of self. Soft. Gentle. Controlled. Your heart stuttered at the feel of it. 
Where had that been this whole time? You should have listened to your initial instinct, he was dangerous. You forced the words out of your puckered lips "What question?" His presence slid against yours in the same spine-tingly way the Commander had. Panic was setting in and you needed to keep a cap on it otherwise you'd do something rash. 
"How are you doing that?" The question caught you off guard. Maybe it was the panic that was scattering your brain, but you were unsure of exactly what he meant or what he was even asking, "Doing what?" It wasn't a lie if you really were confused. 
You felt him lap up against you again. And like the Commander, it was a surface graze against your mental defenses. He'd pick up something, but he'd surprised you. You couldn't even assume what it was he'd decipher, "That." He didn't explain, just did the same force slide against your psyche, "How do you feel so…." He trailed off without finishing. 
Your stomach dropped and a new wave of fear flooded your system. With a shaky breath you gritted out, "I don't know what you're talking about." He hummed before countering, "I think you do." 
This was bad. This was so fucking bad. Bad beyond anything you could have anticipated. Vicrul was too much like you and you hadn't kriffing realized until it didn't matter. 
He didn't need to be in your head to shift through memories confirming your past. Didn't even need to listen in on thoughts or feel you reach out into the force and manipulate it. Didn't even matter that your force signature was so subtle as if you were a passive bystander. Trying to follow its flow, hiding between the natural ripples. 
None of it mattered with the way he'd interpret the force. He felt things the way you did. Which meant that he wasn't looking for how you reacted to the force– if you reached out to it, used it, he watched how the force reacted to you. It was something outside of your control.
And it was the same way you identified force sensitives. 
The only thing that stopped you from breaking cover and using the force to throw him across the room was his own confusion. He was asking you for an explanation, could even feel it in his caresses. Although his grip on your face was firm, you didn't sense any hostility in it…yet.
This didn't make sense to you. How he knew something was off about you, but couldn't pinpoint it? He literally hunted force sensitives across the galaxy…so why…maybe he wasn't as developed as you thought? 
When you were young it was harder to pick out the twisting of the force around people. Was it your own signature mingling in your perception? Or were they actually force users. Master had berated you for your turmoil and forced you to learn the art of slicing into someone's mind her way. 
But picking up the twisting of the force had always been more natural. Eventually, the distinctions had become easier in identifying people it rippled around without worry you were projecting. 
Maybe he was still in that phase? Your heart clenched in bittersweet relief. The Commander had been training him if you could believe Cardo, but you'd been next to the Commander in the lift. If he related in the same way, you doubted you would have left the lift alive. 
Vicrul was likely on his own in this. Like you. 
It stirred up sympathy he likely wouldn't appreciate. Playing dumb was your only option for now. At least that was the best option you could determine. Voice painted in frustration, "I really don't have a kriffing cule what you're talking about." His fingers tapped against your cheek before he slowly dragged his hand down to your throat. 
"Maybe I should spank you." His hand continued down between your breast, trailing your stomach, setting your sensitive nerves on fire, "Or maybe if you give me a good answer," his hand lowered to cup between your legs. Your breath sharp on the inhale, sticking in your throat as your toes curled at the firm grip. 
"I can be nice when I want. And your pretty face makes me want to do very nice things to you." He pressed his palm against your core in emphasis. Your hips rocked down into his cupped palm while your thighs clenched at the feeling. "Just tell me who you are." 
You rocked against his hand with closed eyes. The pleasant pulse helped settle the panic rising up. Opening your eyes to pin him with as irritated a look you could muster, "I'm a kriffing arms technician." The hushed chuckle was more static and airy thanks to the mask's modulation, "Shame I don't have the time to make you beg." 
Lifting your hands to grip the front of his coat, material smooth against your flesh. His own cupped palm between your legs pressed into your again, "You're going over my knee next time I see you." An actual smile cracked your features, "That a promise?"  
He pulled his hand away and pried your grip off him before pushing away, "It's a threat." Your back was still glued to the wall as he slowly backed away. You couldn't move as you watched his form head to the same door his comrades had left. He stopped short of the door and spoke, "We'll see who you are," he hit the button to open the panel, "Arms technician."
Your head rocked back to rest against the wall as the door slid shut. 
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nitannichionne · 8 months
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Ransom's Redemption (Chris Evans Fanfiction), Chapter 24: The Song (Ransom's POV)
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I can't get it out of my head. Leave it to Fiona to throw me off.
She sent me a picture of Mimi on Insta with none other than her ex-fiance. The guy cheated on her before the wedding. She was hurt, but she walked away from him though. He was stupid enough to think they could work it out. I held her while she cried, and she only cried about it once. I even called in a favor and had the guy's car towed by the city. He loved that Mustang. But it was years later, and they looked too damn close at the tea shop in the online photo.
She was married to me, carrying my kid, right? So why did this bother me?
It simply. Fucking. Did. I found myself going over shit I did, didn't do.
"These shots are okay," the photographer says. Her name is Raine Phillips and she had a pretty nice portfolio. She was a senior at NYU, and Calida called in a favor to get her on this project. 
I sigh. "They're missing something."
"Yeah, the electricity, the 'X' factor, I dunno," She shook her head. "I can try again-"
"Uh, can you give us a minute?" Calida asks. She gives the young woman's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.  "It's definitely not you. Let me talk to him, okay?" She pulls me aside. "What's wrong?"
"Calida, it's--" I exhale, wanting a woman's advice. "I just saw a pic on Insta of my wife with her ex."
Calida frowns and gasps, "Where?"
"At our tea and coffee shop-It's Tea Time Somewhere?" I tell her. "I guess--"
"He stopped by to say hi?" Calida finishes.
I exhale. "I sound like an idiot, don't I?"
"You sound like a jealous husband," she chuckles. "Let me tell you something," she gives me a small shake. "Your wife has always been in love with you."
I laugh humorlessly. "What, cause we're married?" I swallow hard, and turn away. My mom and dad are married. And a big ew on that little mess.
"I don't know about you, but I know she loves you."
I turn to her. "You--"
"I remember when we were dating in college, and I met her?" Calida looks into my eyes. "Her heart was breaking, Ran. I didn't care back then, I was stupid, but I grew up, and I never forgot it. I never did that to any woman again. And I never dated a man who was too blind to see it without at least pointing it out."
"Calida--" I watched her pull out her phone, and quickly click and drag and everything. "What?"
"Listen to this."
The link popped up on my phone and I clicked:
youtube
And then I couldn't get it out of my head. The memories of our conversations, our hugging over the years, and the way we lingered played back in my mind. And, oh, God, our first kiss! Could it be that we always were? That song played in my head over and over as we continued the shoot, and I kept thinking of Mimi every time I looked at Calida. 
"Oh, now this is good!" Raine smiles ear to ear. "Good pep talk!"
"Naah, he just misses his wife," Calida shrugs, making me blush.
"Oh, that is so cute!"
"What the hell is going on?!"
We all turn to see Paul.
"Well, look who's here!" Calida says with forced brightness.
Paul's anger and outrage is plain as day on his face. "Calida?!"
"We knew you couldn't start early, so I got you an assistant."
"Assistant?" Paul repeats, outrage in his features. 
"Yes," Calida smirks. "We are done with shots here, but will you be ready for the next background?"
Paul looks at me, and I only raised my eyebrows to let him know I was not arguing this. I want to go home. "Yeah...yeah."
We skip lunch and power through, but I took time to buy a train ticket home just in case planes were grounded. The shots were actually pretty good. Raine was good, but Paul had experience, and once Paul had a few expressos he was over it, and helping Raine. She admired him and was willing to learn.
"That's it." Paul announces. Raine is happy and excited. 
"Thanks, Paul," I nod, shaking his hand. "You two should work together more often."
Paul rolls his eyes. "It's definitely a thought. I've never had an apprentice-assistant, yes, but this makes me think."
"Merry Christmas, man." 
"Merry Christmas."
I go to Calida and see that she is getting ready to leave. We both had our bags on set. "Thanks for everything."
"No problem, we got people to get home to," She smiles. "So...?"
"What?"
"You listened to the song," she grins. "Your whole behavior changed."
I chuckle. "Yeah."
"And...?" She watches me grin, and giggles. She gives me a kiss on the cheek, turns me around, and pushes me like I'm going on a runway. "Get outta here!"
"Thanks, Calida." I said gratefully. 
"Invitation to the baby shower?" She calls after me.
"You got it!" I call over my shoulder. "Bring that man, I want to meet him!"
"It's a double date!"
I'm going home.  No, really, fuckin' really: I'm going home!
@nuggsmum  @messyinsomnimaniac @jencanbeyouryengeralt  @sweetdreamsofgelato  @@mary-ann84  @omgkatinka  @the-soot-sprite  @viking-raider  @keanureevesisbae  @henryobsessed  @summersong69   @sunshine96love  @michelehansel    @thelastsock   @tumblnewby  @tenaciousneckpartypainter  @rn7rocks  @daydreamin83  @musicartmayheminmyheart @kaatelyynn-blog-blog@forallthebrokenheartedthings @alphacancrii  @liquorlaughslove @designerwriterchic   @tamychm  @nikkilynn303  @circesgirl1   @xoxohannahlee  @pixie88@fckdeusername @maan24  @kaatelyyynn​  @october505​ @absentmindr​ @introvertedmouse​  @sassy-pelican @griscka75 @kebabgirl67 @its-carlerr
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hi there, as a new Shoma fan I love your tumblr so much!
however I am part of other skating communities and I’ve seen so much dislike (even hate) for shoma and it makes me really sad. It seems to be mainly yuzuru fans too, which is even sadder because shoma has done nothing but looking up to yuzuru (and being second to him 🥺) his whole skating career.
…I just don’t get it? I haven’t been following fs fandom politics but this just seems too much. Is there some background I should know of?
Hey anon,
Glad you like my Tumblr, you're welcome and thank you for following! 😊
Regarding your question...well there is no easy answer and there are many different "reasons" for the hate (if you even can call hating reasonable) ...I don't think hate is necessary ever. No need to hate on ppl you do not like especially when it's about things they aren't at fault like scoring.
I would say that any skater at the top has haters...(I mean just look at Ilia Malinin and he isn't even in seniors for long)...but you are right that the Shoma hate can be very strong...
There are two different paths of background to the hate...
On one side there is the sport related part: overscoring, technique issues and Shoma being perceived as better politically supported and backed up by JSF than Yuzu (calling him JSFs pet or saying that Shoma's family buys his scores etc to just name a few)
I don't want to go into detail whether some of those claims do have truth to it because this would turn into an essay. Just in short: Is Shoma overscored? On some elements it can happen, but he has also other values that aren't rightfully awarded all the time...Does Shoma have a "problematic" technique? On some jumps like the Flip for sure, but not in all jumps and not to the extent that would make his jumps invalid (even if you will see ppl say this his jumps are approved by a lot if technical experts, the evaluation in scoring is a different matter though) Is Shoma favored by the JSF? Shoma does have the political backup of JSF but I don't think more than a skater with his skill and reputation normally gets. (this is a personal opinion as even ppl who like Shoma have different opinions on this)
The other "issue" with Shoma is a bit more complicated and more about Shoma's assumed personality than skating related. In 2019 Shoma said one problematic sentence in a stream that turned ppl off. I don't go into detail here, but I have talked about the subject many times, one of my replies you can find here:
It should also be mentioned that also Shoma fans have been disappointed in Shoma's words at that time and I do think it's completely fine if you decide to not support Shoma because of it BUT I do think that his words have been blown out of proportion by the fandom and I think after 3+ years where none of Shoma's words or actions support any of the previously said words ppl really should think twice about their final judgment. But ofc you have to build your own opinion about it and if you or anyone else needs to talk about it, just send me a PM. (there are also multiple other posts where I already answered many questions about it, you can go through my #replies tag to find more) I stay vague on this post on purpose as it's not in the asked question but it's needed as a background story
____
Because you mentioned Yuzu...
The Yuzu fans who are haters are imo a special category...there is a more specific history behind it...
Let's say if Shoma would have never got close to beating Yuzu I am sure we wouldn't see as much hate from Yuzu fans...when Shoma emerged to the senior scene he wasn't particularly hated by this group. He was a skater who admired Yuzu and even Yuzu fans liked Shoma a lot especially with the funny "wedding pose" incident in 2015. In 2017 Shoma almost won Worlds above Yuzu and this was the time it started to get really ugly by some fans. Fans who previously liked him, suddenly hated on him. And this trajectory got worse and worse over the years.
Then there is the "problem" of Yuzu having the most fans on any sns as to why you will also see more Yuzu fans being haters than from different skaters. Especially on Twitter you see ppl following one opinion and copying it. Atm you are favored among Yuzu fans if you dislike Shoma. It's sometimes more about the own image than Shoma as I can tell with some hypocrites who like my Shoma posts here,but talk bad about him on Twitter. (it doesn't happen as rarely as you would think)
____
I think it's completely fine to adress issues with Shoma's scores, technique and also his words. But there is always a respectful way to do it and there is no reason for ill wishes and name calling etc...we can have a discourse about almost anything but in a respectful way.
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kmlaney · 8 months
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@lineshare-friday
I don't often spend much time with clothing. A couple words and that's all. But I happened to have a bit of background where clothing and style of dress figure prominently. It immediately came to mind with this prompt.
<long post so cut after intro>
I’m minding the counter, alone, again. Not that it matters. Letters are few and far between these days and I sorted the last delivery days ago. So many boxes empty, and not just because people already picked up their post.
Liese flounces into the office, sending the little silver bell on the door jangling brightly. Her smartly tailored suit is all Byerly yellow and soft baby blue. “Good morning, Philla,” she says. “May the sun shine pleasant on you today.”
“Unless rain suits you better,” I complete the couplet. “Nearly noon, Liese. Care to stay for lunch?” I’ve little on offer, but Mama’s not here to object and I actually like Liese. Some pleasant conversation would be nice for a change.
“I thank you for your hospitality, Philla.” Liese sidles up to the counter. “But I don’t want to cause you trouble with Mistress Dinwiddle.”
I can’t help but snicker at her extremely formal address for Mama. Smiling, I say, “No post for Miss Peaches today. You got something going out?”
Liese opens a clutch matching her outfit and slides a folded cream note across the worn counter. Miss Peaches' lovely hand inscribed my name on one side. “None going out, but a message for you.”
I take the paper. It’s good weight, smooth and heavy, the folds top and bottom hold well and firm. It’s not sealed or even bound with string, so it must be private but not overly so. I unfold it, revealing more of Miss Peaches’ elegant writing:
Dearest Philla, I would like to invite you to join me for lunch. Afterward, I have a business proposal. If you are agreeable, and your duties permit, please do me the favor of accompanying Liese back to Peach House. If today is not convenient, please be so kind as to send your reply with Liese when she returns. If another day or time suits you better, please let me know. Sincerely Your Friend, Miss Peaches
I fold the invitation closed. "I guess neither of us is staying for lunch," I say
Liese smiles. "You're coming! Good. Miss Peaches will be glad."
"You read the note," I say.
"No," she says, smoothing her coat. "Miss Peaches said you might come with me." Her strawberry blonde hair flows softly when she tips her head to the side.
"I should change," I say. The note was formal. Liese is dressed so nice. I don't think Father's work trousers and a shirt will cut it. Not that I have much better.
She puts one lace-gloved hand on mine. "Oh no. You're fine as you are, Philla. Shall we?"
I look about for a usable sheet of paper and end up with the back of a waxed package wrap. "Let me leave a note for Mama before I close up." My hand isn't as ornate as Miss Peaches'. It's good enough for Post and accounting purposes. She’s the only one makes me feel underdressed in writing.
Mama, No receipts. No deliveries. All post picked up. Closed for lunch. I’ll be out this afternoon and might be late. Don't worry and don't wait up. P--
Mama hates it when I don’t use my whole name to sign letters. I put the inkwell on the paper to keep it in place on the counter.
“Alright, let’s go.” I turn the sign on the door to ‘closed’ on our way out.
We skirt the town square and arrive at Peach House by noon. The doors are open as usual, but she’s not open for business until later. She greets us as soon as we walk in. “I’m so glad you accepted my invitation, Philla. Welcome.” Polished as always in a ruffled dress of emerald green and cobalt. Miss Peaches is Miss Peacock today.
“Thank you kindly, Miss Peaches,” I say, taking off my hat.
She gestures toward the back, “Lunch is set. Shall we? You too, Liese.”
There’s a snug little parlor in the back behind the bar and the tables. I don’t see any of her ladies, but it’s big enough for most of ‘em I think. One table in the middle, dark oak, laid out with as nice a lunch spread as I’ve seen in some time. Maybe ever. I am definitely underdressed for the occasion. Liese and I both take seats and Miss Peaches herself serves us fresh coffee. Oh, fresh, real coffee, only minimally cut with bitterroot. A bit of sugar and milk softens the taste to a mild earthiness in the background of the cup.
I savor the flavor while Miss Peaches distributes boiled-egg sandwiches with cress, fried slices of vegetable-marrow, and several varieties of sweet ale pickles. Summer sausage, cold leek and waterfruit soup, and bread with butter round out the delights on offer. It’s hard to resist stuffing the entire sandwich in my mouth at once. I set it down after a bite. “Your note mentioned a business proposal?” I say.
Miss Peaches settles in her seat. “After lunch, Philla. Let’s enjoy the meal together, first. Cheers,” she says, holding aloft her steaming, horn-porcelain cup.
“Cheers,” Liese and I both echo.
Bonus, from later in the same piece:
“You weren’t here for the trouser affair,” Miss Peaches says.
I set my mug down. “Springer’s the one cut the puppy’s tail off. I just repaid him in kind.” At Liese’s horrified look I confess, “Cut the seats out of his trousers while they were drying on the line. Caught holy hell from his mother and mine for that one. Deserved, I suppose, since they had to be sewn back up. Mama made me fix ‘em all, so I cross-stitched ‘ass’ across the rears while I was at it. Same color thread so it weren’t obvious when I brought ‘em all back. Probably should have sewn a tail on instead; would have been funnier and quicker to rip out.”
Liese laughs. It’s a funny story up to that point. Miss Peaches continues it. “You were what, ten?”
I let smoke drift out of my nose. “Something like that. Eight’s when I did for Washbourne’s eye, and this were after. Not more than twelve. Hadn’t started my courses yet.”
Miss Peaches sets her mug down as well. “How many of them beat you up for it?”
“Whole fucking gang, I think"
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homemade-ghosts · 2 years
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OMG thank you for your reply I feel a little bit lonely sometimes so I love to read theories! And what I meant is 90% right the only thing is that instead of a PW fight she cries because of the whole situation but basically you get me right. About the 'fireworks' and the 'canoe scene' what do you think? I think 1) the fireworks are real not meta after one team wins 2) Typical EJ will do something 'big' to made up things and the ily scene is in the canoe
You're welcome! I'm sorry you've been feeling lonely recently, but I'm glad you can find joy in theorizing/reading other's theories and hope it makes you feel a little less alone knowing that there are people out there who love something (this show) as much as you do and want to share that love with you (or at least I'm assuming you love this show, I don't think you'd be sending me asks about it if you didn't lol).
Ahh, okay, so I was almost right. I will say that I don't necessarily see Gina crying over the general situation (ie the love triangle that is her, Ricky & EJ) just because I don't think she's even aware that she's in a love triangle at this point. Last season, Gina convinced herself that she was wrong, that Ricky never liked her romantically. She's resigned herself to that, so she still thinks Ricky sees her as just a friend (& probably thinks that letting herself believe otherwise would set her up for yet another heartbreak, so she doesn't even entertain the thought).
I saw the hints weeks ago and I'm still confused by them, to be honest lol. I was thinking the fireworks were probably literal as well, but then I thought, the Blue Team doesn't win (unless that clip of everyone holding up Jet in the season trailer is misleading). & it's not like Gina & EJ would be celebrating their team's loss with fireworks (& I'm pretty sure "fireworks" was used to describe pw, specifically) -- but maybe there is some sort of fireworks display (either for the winning team or just in general for everyone that night. Like, maybe watching fireworks the night of Color Wars is another camp tradition?) and during those fireworks, EJ pulls Gina aside/away from the group (or vice versa) and he tells her he loves her or they have another fight (or as Gina called it, a "one-sided confusion") where EJ brings up Ricky and Gina tries to reassure him that she doesn't have feelings for Ricky anymore and/or Ricky has never liked her back.
Typing this out made me think of something, actually. How interesting would it be if pw was far enough away from the display to be able to hear each other clearly without the crackle of the fireworks, but close enough that we can still see them in the background as they talk. So, here they are, having this "explosive" argument while literal explosives (fireworks are considered explosives, right?) are going off in the background. Not only would it look stunning, but fireworks, in the metaphorical sense, can be representative of both romance and anger. Sometimes, when you say "those two have fireworks" it's can be like saying there's a spark between them, some level of romantic attraction going on...but you can also say essentially the same thing and mean it as an argument between 2 people ("put those two together and you'll get fireworks"). So, imagine if EJ tells Gina he loves her (definition 1, the romantic type of firework) and it turns into Gina recognizing that no, EJ doesn't really love her because hiding things, not apologizing, not being very supportive/understanding and not making time for your significant other is not love (definition 2, the argument type of fireworks). It works both visually and metaphorically.
I'm going to look so dumb when all of this turns out to be completely wrong and I've overthought everything and given this literal Disney+ show way too much credit when it comes to symbolism. If anyone sees this post after ep 6 comes out, do us both a favor and pretend that you didn't lol
As for the canoe, that's another confusing one. Even though this camp is called Camp Shallow Lake, they established in the first episode that there's no lake there...so where exactly are they canoeing, in the pool? (I'm kidding lmao) I like your idea of EJ's confession being in the canoe, but (even though I still don't understand where this canoeing is taking place) I actually think it's part of the last game in color wars. When the Yellow Team lifts Jet up, as if to celebrate him having just won the game for them, he's holding an oar. I'm thinking maybe EJ & Gina were representing their team for that last game and their inability to work well together as canoeing partners is what causes their team to lose the game. If this is the case though, I'm not sure why Jet's team would only be lifting him up and not him and whoever his canoeing partner is...but it's still the best theory I've got, so I'm rolling with it for now haha
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forthemasses1789 · 2 years
Note
Hi! Are your requests still open? I absolutely love your style and wanted to request something for John Bender if I may <3 scenario or headcanons for his s/o's parents actually wanting to help him too with his situation at home, becouse they genuinely like him? Maybe letting him know that he can move in/stay for some time whenever he needs to? You think he would be mad about it at first or fluff all the way? Thank you dear and I hope you have a great day/night <3 '🪶
Hi Anon! My requests are always open unless I'm like 'hey my requests are closed' then just assume I'm accepting requests! Thank you so much for this request, especially as this is my first time doing headcanons! I really hope you enjoy it!
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-Ok soooo
-First off, a little bit of background, as surprising as it is, Bender was actually like crazy nervous to meet your parents.
-It took a lot of pestering and ‘seriously John why can't you tell me? I promise I won't laugh!’ to eventually get him to admit why he was so nervous
-turns out the reason why he was so nervous was that it was you and your parents and he wanted to make a good impression and try and show them that he could look after you and keep you safe
-after he had finally admitted it he and you had a talk which mostly consisted of you saying that as long as he was himself (maybe not as horny lewd) that they would love him just as much as you do
-2 days later and it was time, admittedly, you were just as nervous as John but you knew that however this night went, you and John would walk out of it together
-Because of how nervous he was you decided to meet up with him before the actual event, which definitely worked out in your favor
-You guys went over how you were feeling, he would most likely try to be like 'im only like a little bit nervous' but that facade dropped real quick
-You tried to tell him how nice your parents are, and how they were really looking forward to meeting him but all he was focusing on was how in the hell he could make himself a 'respectable boyfriend' in less than an hour
-*that one part in 'we don't talk about Bruno'* Time for dinner!!
-you couldn't cut the tension in that room with just a knife.
-You would need a whole chainsaw, and probably then some.
-Conversation started out awkward, but eventually, John got more comfortable, which made you more comfortable too which meant conversation began to flow a lot easier
-Eventually, the conversation drifts to what John's parents do, and what his life is like at home
-Annnnddd exactly like what you expected, John's small smile dropped, and the wall of 'im cool and a badass grrrr' that had dropped only 20 minutes before came flying back
-You immediately interlinked your hands, trying to give him any form of comfort on the subject as you could
-He looked up, his eyes slightly teary with this look in his big brown eyes that just made him look so vulnerable
-You could kinda just tell that he was seeking your comfort and advice on whether or not to tell them the truth or be all closed up and just kinda deflect/avoid the topic
-With some slight hand squeezes, reassuring glances, and unspoken words, he surprisingly opened up
-He was tough at first, talking about his stepdad and the things he did to him at his in a kinda 'that's the way it is' but as he spoke more he began to dissolve into tears, unable to control his pain and anger
-Immediately he was surrounded by your parents and you comforting him
-Your parents were incredibly understanding and comforting, and they never judged him once, not even when he told them to "Fuck off goddamnit! I'm not a child!" with a hand in his hair while pushing them away with one hand
-He ended up desperately holding onto you, crying into your chest while you shushed him, smoothing out his hair, a couple of tears escaping of your own
-you were sure you heard him muttering, something along the lines of "why can't he be a good person? what did I do to deserve him?"
-it broke your heart to see him so broken, I mean, he's normally a lot softer with you anyway, but you've never seen him so broken and vulnerable
-Your parents understood immediately, and let you and John have some alone time in your room to cuddle and sleep and to just... try and process the onslaught of emotions that had been released
-You both ended up falling asleep in your bed, cuddled up and dead to the world
-In the morning, he came down with you, and attempted to apologize for his outburst and the way he spoke to them
-YOUR PARENTS WERE HAVING NONE OF IT
-literally, as soon as the words "I'm sorry" left John's lips they were jumping up and surrounding him, voices overlapping between the supportive 'honey you don't need to apologize' and the slightly threatening but insanely protective 'DONT YOU DARE APOLOGISE YOU SWEET THING'
-After that day John was kind of adopted into the family
-He was over basically every day
-You could really tell that he was changing like his whole demeanor just seemed... more carefree, more positive, like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders
-Somewhere along the way, he began calling your parents their respective names
-First, he started with Mx (Y/L/N)
-not really tho cause he had an emotional breakdown on the first night
-Now he calls them something along the lines of Ma/Pa/or just their first names
-NOWWWW here’s when he starts to kind be like ‘ehhhh’
-Sooo after all of the things previously mentioned had occurred, it made sense that your parents decided to mention to him over dinner one night that if he wanted to move in, he was more than welcome too, and would be welcomed with open arms
-His initial reaction was kinda like in between‘You don’t want me here, im a trouble maker’ and ‘really?? I’ll grab my shit rn’
-Then he kinda heard a voice in his head (one strikingly similar to that of his step dads) that told him that they were only doing it out of sympathy, his connection with you, and that they were treating him like a child
-And then suddenly boom! Anger
-He shut himself off for a few days, not really talking to you or your family until you eventually sought him out and made him talk to you
-it took a lot of persuasion and promises (both spicy and fluffy) to get him to tell you what was going on, but he eventually did
-hearing him say out loud what was making him feel so awful literally made you cry
-when he said it, you pulled him into a hug and then kissed him real hard before grabbing his cheeks, staring him in the eyes and saying the following:
-“Don’t you ever say that about yourself. Ever. I love you more than anything and I’m pretty sure that my parents have already planned out how to add you to the Christmas cards.”
-You both just kinda sat there for a bit after that, cuddling and just existing together
-he ended up moving in, and now he unofficially shares a room with you
-and yes, he is forced into the matching sweaters for the cringy 80s family photo every. single. Christmas.
-he complains every time, not so secretly, he loves it
Taglist-@friendlyneighbourhoodfanficer
If you want to be added to my tag list, here is the link!
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nothing-but-dreamy · 3 years
Text
BLACK TIE
A/N: Thanks again for this idea @mindlessstories
I hope you have fun with it
Pairing: LEON KENNEDY x READER
Words: 1.736
Warnings: fluff, cursing, Leon in a suit
Synopsis: Yn and Leon are on a mission with fancy clothes. But somehow the mission is not the most interesting thing...
"W-What the bloody... What are you wearing?", Yn asked as she checked the appearance of the man in front of her. The guy was neatly dressed in a white suit shirt, black suit pants and a black jacket. Even a black tie was bound around the man’s neck. Quickly, Yn checked the number of the hotel room once again in fear she had mistaken it and might stand in front of some stranger. No, it was the right room and actually, it was also the right guy. It was just … even if it was part of the mission, Leon S. Kennedy had swapped his typical, casual leather jacket with a tuxedo. It was a sight for sore eyes. Unusually and at the same time, perfectly fitting as if Leon would be some kind of secret undercover supermodel instead of an agent.
Leon, amused about Yn’s big eyes and astonished expression, chuckled and stepped aside, letting his partner in who was still watching him as if he would be an alien. A handsome one but still. Leon closed the door, "It's a tuxedo. That's what you wear on a bow and tie event.", he explained and watched how Yn rolled with her eyes.
“I know what it is but to see you in it… and by the way! Black Tie, Kennedy! It’s called Black Tie! And not ‘bow and tie’.”, Yn explained for maybe the hundredth time since they both got assigned to this secret mission. In fact, the job was easy. A rich weapons dealer had started to ‘extend’ his sortiment with some BOWs. His business was flourishing. But instead of just catching him, Yn and Leon had decided it would be better to bug the dealer to get information about his clients as well. Therefore, they were able to dig out the whole nest.
“I don’t care what these events are called. They’re all the same. It’s just to show off how rich and important everyone is.”, Leon said and leant with crossed arms against the doorframe.
“I know how much you hate these things.”, Yn said, grabbed her bag and aimed for the bathroom to change her outfit as well, “But I have to admit, you look good in this tuxedo. It suits you.”, she said through the half closed door.
Leon smirked, “Oh, really? You know, maybe you could show me how much you like my outfit?”, he asked flirtatiously.
Yn opened the door again and stepped out, “Focus on the mission, Kennedy.”
Leon was hearing her words but his mind went kinda blank as he saw her robed in a floor-length, backless, black dress. The silky-soft fabric hugged all her curves perfectly and gave much input for many, many x-rated fantasies. Slowly, Leon’s eyes wandered upwards until he met her challenging glance. Slowly, he stepped forward with a smirk, “I might hate these events but I could get used to seeing you working in such a stunning outfit.���, Leon said low.
Yn saw dirty thoughts glittering behind his steel-blue eyes and smirked, “Take a picture, it might last longer. Come, we have to go.”, she said, passed Leon and knew that he was staring at her back all the way.
**
Thirty minutes later, Yn and Leon were entering a huge, pompous decorated ballroom. Chandeliers bathed the room in dim, atmospheric light. Soft jazz music played in the background. And obviously a whole diamond mine had exploded because it was sparkling and twinkling in each corner. The room was filled with high-society and in the middle of it two special agents who tried to fit into this kind of world.
“Shall we split up?”, Leon asked low.
Still with a wealthy smile on her lips, Yn shook her head, “Let us take a round together and then, if necessary, we split up.”, she said and linked her arm with Leon’s.
The idea had been good but quickly, they had to admit that the room was too stuffed with people. And because they searched for a guy, and everyone looked kinda the same in their black suits, they had difficulties finding their subject.
Evading into a quiet corner, Yn looked up at Leon, “That’s not working. There are too many people here. Alright, we split up. I walk around a bit. You could monitor the guys who are without women like the group over there at the bar.”, she said and nodded unobtrusively into the said direction while putting a small intercom into her ear to activate it and gave Leon the other earpiece who mirrored her move. With a serious expression, her eyes met Leon’s, “If one of us finds him, the other one comes to the position.”, she said and was about to leave.
Leon held her back, “Be careful, okay?”, he said and looked her caringly but serious in the eyes.
She smirked, “Of course. I’m not the one with the reckless moves like fighting against infected dogs on a motorbike.”, and with that, she stepped back to vanish in the crowd.
Leon chuckled about her boldness and shook his head before he followed her idea to aim for the bar. He ordered a drink and while waiting for it, Leon looked left and right to check out the people around him if their target would be with them. Leon was just about to check an older man with salt-and-pepper hair as fragments of a conversation waved over to him, catching his attention.
“These women are all the same. Rich, wealthy and absolutely boring.”, one tall man said before taking a sip of his Whiskey.
“Yeah, or ugly. I mean, how many surgeries are really necessary? I get the impression that all these women here are just made out of plastic and silicone.”, another man said. He was a bit smaller than the first one.
Leon was just about to leave as the third guy said something that caught his attention to the point that he fully turned over to them, “You might be right except with this pretty thing over there. What? None of you haven’t seen her yet? Okay, then, she’s mine.”, the guy said and let it sound as if the woman was just a piece of meat and he was the lion to hunt it down.
Leon knew he had to focus on the mission and he really was about to leave the group of idiots behind but then, he noticed the way how the guy looked at the unaware victim. It was a lust filled glance that even Leon felt disgusted by the sight. The guy was pretty sure about himself that he would be successful to win the woman over this evening. The guy, tall, dark haired and looking like a lot of money, licked over his lips while his eyes showed that he looked at a point that was lower than the woman’s waist. Now more interested in who the innocent lamb might be, Leon followed the guy’s glance and felt how his blood ran hot and cold at the same time.
Yn stood there, talking with an older lady and facing the group of guys with her back. The dress gave a beautiful sight of her flawless skin. While she talked, her body moved beautifully and she even swayed a bit to the soft tune of the music so that her hair fell over her bare back, dancing a little through the air.
“You can’t have her! I saw her first. I just couldn’t say anything because I became speechless by her eyes.”, the first, tall guy said.
“By her eyes? Forget them! Look at her god damn ass. So round and juicy.”, the guy said and his eyes became filled with raw, sexual hunger.
That was enough for Leon to forget the mission for a moment as he walked over to the group, “I couldn’t miss hearing how you were talking about this young lady.” Leon said low, getting the attention of all three men at the same time, “Stay away from her. All of you. Or otherwise, things will turn ugly.”, he said with a kind of threat lingering in his voice.
One of the men stepped closer to Leon, slightly towering over the agent and looking down, “Who do you think you are, huh? Nothing we do is your concern.”
Not impressed at all, Leon stepped forward, holding the man’s glance, “She’s mine, get it? Therefore, yes, it concerns me how you are talking about her. So, do yourself a favor and stay away from her or I will become your worst nightmare. And trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”, Leon said threateningly, leaving no room for any further arguments.
The guy stared at Leon for several more moments and considered his best next step but in the end, the guy saw something in Leon’s eyes that told him to better back off. And after another few seconds, the guy stepped back, nodded to his friends and disappeared somewhere else.
Leon went back to his drink and emptied it in one big sip. As he placed the glass back on the counter, Yn stood already next to him, leaning against the bar with a smirk on her lips, "So, I'm yours, huh?", she asked low.
With a shock filled glance, he stared at her and swallowed thickly, "Oh, uhm... Well... I- I didn't like the way he looked at you.", he stammered with an apologetic glance.
Yn nodded, "Yes, I heard that.”, she said, tapping at her ear with her index finger to remind him of the intercom. As Yn saw his awkward smile, she stepped forward, “You know, to see you jealous and protective was kinda cute. But it was unnecessary, don't you think? I'm not your girlfriend."
Leon also stepped forward, a smirk was playing on his lips while he snaked his arm around her waist to bring her even closer, "Actually, we're just one date away that I can call you mine."
"Oh, really? Then, I would say we count this evening as a date, what do you think?", Yn suggested whispering against his lips which were just inches away.
"Deal.", Leon breathed before he kissed her. It was a deep kiss. Filled with hunger to show off to whom Yn belonged to. Yn tugged on his suit jacket to bring him even closer, knowing exactly where these clothes would land later this evening…
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stellartales · 3 years
Text
zhongli ▪︎ glazed moon
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pairing: zhongli x traveler!reader
genre(s): comfort + mild angst + fluff
summary: liyue harbor is once again preparing for another festival — the mid-autumn festival. but somehow she simply couldn't bring herself to join the others in the celebration. definitely not when her heart is aching in melancholy for her missing twin. — | m.list
background: this scenario takes place during the mid-autumn festival - as quoted from wikipedia - it is the second-most important holiday after Chinese New Year with a history dating back 3,000 years, when China's emperors worshipped the moon for bountiful harvests.[2] The celebration is called Chuseok (autumn eve) in Korea, Tsukimi (moon-viewing) in Japan and Tết Trung Thu (Mid-Autumn Festival) in Vietnam
this event celebrated by the chinese is usually spent eating mooncakes and drinking teas. lanterns are also an important aspect of this festival. unlike the yuanxiao fesitval or mingxiao festival (which is the fictional festival featuring best boy Xiao in GI) where lanterns are released into the sky, lanterns are hand-held. this is a festival i celebrate every year hence i'm familiar with it — feel free to read up about this on wiki!
a/n: don't mind me, this is just a random idea that popped in my head. i'm in the mood for some angsty stuff these days so just had to get it out. Flute version of 无羁 (Wu Ji) from the drama 'Untamed' was the song which inspired my angsty mood while typing this. pardon my errors (I may have missed them and i kinda wrote this on a spur sooooo yea)
Please do me a favor and reblog this. Thank youuuu ❤
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the vitality of liyue harbor has always been astounding; an envy of the seven nations.
bright, bustling streets even in the darkness of nights was enough to show the nature of the city.
though, today it was a different kind of bustle. stores were already closed; even the nocturnal businesses that one would only see at night.
the moon had been bright and round the past few nights while the people busied themselves for another festival to come.
— the mid-autumn festival, an annual festival celebrated by the people of liyue or at least that was what zhongli explained yesterday when he extended an invitation to her to join him and others in moon-gazing today.
tonight, the moon shone bright and full in the clear dark sky, seemingly more so than the previous nights.
strategically rooted to the ground of a spacious balcony overlooking the gentle waves below, the stone tables were in a perfect spot beneath the brilliant moon.
colorful mooncakes of various flavors and teacups filled with steaming tea laid before her.
she sat at one of the round stone tables with some funeral parlor staff and of course, zhongli himself who has been rather busy ever since she arrived—
the cheerful chatters and laughter drew her eyes away from the empty seat beside her and to the tables across theirs.
his archon days were over, he said.
he was simply trying to experience a mundane life as 'zhongli' now, as the geo archon had put it when she expressed her surprise at his involvement with a festival fabricated by the mortals' minds.
and indeed—
her gaze idled on him.
— he was doing it too well.
illuminated by the golden glow the table lanterns emanated, the cordial and relaxed atmosphere was warmed by attentive eyes and smiling lips.
all on him.
apparently, some things never changed. whether he was rex lapis or zhongli, he carried an alluring elegance and charisma. clinging to every word and his occasional hand gestures, they were like moths drawn to a flame.
she could understand why; she liked hearing him talk. she would have gone over too, if not...if not for this weight on her heart.
it has been nearly a year since she was in teyvat looking for her twin. these few days in the harbor, the full moon was a constant reminder of how time has passed, and yet...
a heavy sigh escaped her. a longing gleam waned in her eyes as she lifted her gaze to the sky.
they used to talk and eat under a full moon just like this, a bitter ache clenched her heart.
her teeth sank into her lower lip as it trembled.
please...not now. her hands curled into shaking fists as she tried to hold back the tears threatening to leave her eyes.
not now. not at this party. she silently pleaded with herself, her squared shoulders shaking. it took all her willpower to not let the dam break.
but one managed to escape her anyway.
—shit.
she was up on her feet fast and slipped away from the party as subtly as she could.
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stumbling out of the party half-blind with tears wasn't exactly the best situation to remember about the cloak meant to keep her warm on an autumn night.
luckily, she didn't end up falling off the stairs she currently sat on.
autumn in liyue was typically not cold, but tonight seemed especially so.
she shivered to the chilly breeze brushing against her back. goosebumps crawled across her skin, particularly on the areas her dress failed to protect against the cold.
she couldn't quite bring herself to go back for the cloak. not with the mess she was now.
the sight of the round moon above wavered in her vision as tears quietly trailed down her cheeks.
under the vast, seemingly endless night sky, she felt small...
— her knees were drawn closer to her chest, curled fingers digging into her dress.
...and extremely powerless.
where is he? why can't she find him? is he even in teyvat? Is he even...still alive? does he even exist anymore?
—a dreading sense of hopelessness echoed in her heart and summoned another wave of tears wavering her vision.
under this wide, endless sky and its luminous moon, she felt alone, truly alone in the presence of the joyous cacophony of laughter and playful yells coming from the festival she left behind.
a nasty voice prompted by the noise taunted her — of how no one would notice, even if she were to walk right out of liyue harbor right now.
drowning in harsh, relentless thoughts, she failed to notice the gaze of a pair of wise, golden eyes on her back, soft with concern.
long legs covered the distance between them in a quiet, graceful stride; the gentle clacks of his loafers whenever their heels hit the ground slipped past her notice too.
not even when he climbed down the steps to settle himself next to her, a step above hers.
not even the inevitable proximity between their bodies caused by the short stairs spacious for one but narrow for two.
only until his coat was off his shoulders and wrapped around hers—
"why the tears on the mid-autumn festival?"
—she jolted with a sharp gasp, her widening eyes snapping over to him.
the calm and prodding gaze that met hers was accompanied by the tender brush of his thumb across her left cheek, right under her tearing eye before switching over to her other.
"zh-zhongli?"
she stayed stunned, unsure she was feeling so because someone noticed she had left or was it because of this simple gesture.
zhongli has always been a mentor-like figure to her. his words, his wise gazes, the comforting pets he occasionally gave on her head and back had always reminded her of how she was a mere child in his eyes.
but tonight...this, nothing about the gentleness his hand or his eyes emanate felt normal. or was she just delirious?
the strange stutter of her heart caused by the hand on her face, the blush heating up her cheeks made her tear her gaze away from his, flustered.
zhongli let his hand drop back onto his knee, but his eyes stayed.
crossing her arms to hold onto his coat sitting on her shoulders, she thought hard to recall his question.
"i can't help thinking about my brother, that's all." she looked back at him, smiling.
a smile he thought reminded him of the moon when it was not yet full — a quiet light melancholic with vague sadness.
"don't worry about me, i'll be fine." she slipped a glance over her shoulder in the direction of the festival. "you should go back there, zhongli, they need you. what's mid-autumn festival for liyue without you?"
she moved to remove the coat from her shoulders, but a hand wrapped around her wrist stopped her.
"but what's mid-autumn festival without you, my dear friend?"
zhongli regarded her intently, his eyes boring into hers for a second before shifting to focus on his coat.
there was something else in his eyes when they return to hers; it came and went in a flicker. "...keep this on, it's chilly today."
"thanks..." she murmured, her shoulders sinking as she yet again returned her thoughts to her brother.
"aether..." the pain she guarded showed on her face. "will i ever be able to see him again?"
tears started to well up in her eyes once again.
"i'm sorry, zhongli, i'm so sorry..." a quiet sob broke through, "today is supposed to be about the mid-autumn festival, and yet...here you are, listening to me."
zhongli's mouth opened then snapped close.
he always knew what to say whenever she was in a pinch. however, it was tears this time, and he wasn't exactly sure about what he should do about his body's urge to extend his arms out to her.
he was already more than a thousand years old.
as the former geo archon, he was the immovable rock. emotions and impulses he used to hold within himself in his younger days were buried deep under the sands of time...or at least they should be.
so where did this come from? was this strange stir an inevitable part of being a mortal?
"you know what?"
her movement to rise from the spot beside him turned his head back to her.
resolute hardened the glint in her tearing eyes, "i don't want to hold you back any longer,"
her fingers curled into a shaky fist, nails digging into her palm.
"....the people need you. i-i think i should just go bac—"
his hand flew out before he could think any further; his body was faster than his thoughts this time.
her next breath puffed out of her, in surprise and bewilderment as her body was tugged and cocooned by a breathing warmth before she could understand what happened.
and when she did, her eyes flew wide.
cheek pressed against his neck, she found herself held to his chest. she could feel his chin atop her head and his arms around her.
he was beside her a moment ago, and now he was behind sharing the same step as her, broad enough to accommodate them. was she the one who moved? or did he?
she didn't know how but she couldn't find the energy to care —the scent of musk and lingering tea engulfing her was an alluring comfort that made her want to stop trying.
so warm. really, really warm.
and so was his voice. "...but you need me." a hand caressed the back of her head.
there was a pause before a feigned cough ensued. "i meant, this."
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Text
Roses
Technoblade x fem!reader
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[Slightly au in this but basically it takes place in your wedding.]
_____________________________________
It was techno's big day, his wedding day something he didn't think he would have. He was looking himself in the mirror as he braid his hair. The chaotic yelling of his siblings in the background. Tommy and wilbur screaming over bows and ties and which are better as philza walks over to him placing a hand on his shoulder. " You know mate, things will be okay I see you tapping your feet ."
"Phil how do I know she wants this? That.. she wants me I don't know why I'm having cold feet about this." Phil looks at him as his son rambles on with a warm smile. " Well, techno I know because...you see this vase?" Techno nods as phil takes a rose out of vase and handing it to techno's hand. " What does this symbolize to you? I mean look at the theme and all the times you used this red rose."
Techno thought about it " my relationship?..." He said with uncertainty in his voice. As phil nods his head " of course it does, mate look at your theme roses and gold. The first gift you gave her was a rose and her was gold to you. "
5 years ago
Techno would always see this girl passed by, and he developed a small crush on her. He always saw her reading a book or running around without a care in the world. Wilbur and tommy started to noticed when he stared out and tease him.
" come on man! You have to give it a shot that's how I got with Sally! Why not give her a simple rose, and it could be red to fit your color theme too. Or me and tommy will keep teasing you about it. "
Finally annoyed with there constant nagging and the voices being conflicted he agrees. So the next day techno cut a rose from the garden behind and awkwardly walked up to you " I- erm would you like a rose?..." You just looked at him an laugh making his heart drop and voices in his scream in panic. Until you gently brush his hand taking the rose and put it in your hair. " Hehe thank you I appreciate it, it's beautiful. " Techno heart basically skipped a heart beat and he got all flustered "I-i thank you um what's your name? "
"y/n,...y/n l/n"
"technoblade."
And ever since the two were close and bonded with eachother, y/n eventually buying him a gold promise ring for him and officially start dating with eachother. And for every year till now he gave her a red rose on their anniversary.
" well , you better hurry because now we be late and we don't want to keep her waiting now do we? " Phil said smugly as he walks out the room yelling at tommy to stop annoying fundy.
Techno looks back the mirror and hurries up to get ready as he tied up his corset vest. And swiftly putting his jacket on rushing out with accessoriess in hand putting them on on the ride to there.
The wedding itself was small and endearing , only love ones and close knight friends invited. From the sbi family , ranboo and tubbo. Y/n's family side and closes friends. Dream was there too due to a favor but it didn't matter. As everyone stood in their places , techno paitently waiting , tommy as ring bearer and funny enough ranboo was flower boy. Philza was technos best man along side wilbur . As small chatter between them occured they see the doors open and techno completely looks in shock that the voices in his head were quiet.
There stood y/n in a wedding dress holding a bouquet of roses in hand soon to be HIS wife. He just couldn't believe this is truly happening in front of him. The music started to play as y/n'd arm around f/p ( fav person ) walked her down the aisle to him. Now standing in front of him he was at the lost of words . The ceremony mostly a blur beside the " you may now kissed the bride " and vows, at the reception beside it being chaotic but during the first dance phil and wilbur threw rose petals and with philza's wings and his murder of crows made the petals fly around them with the wind romantically. It made it even more clear the symbolism of the red rose towards their relationship. 🌹
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bellebridgerton · 3 years
Text
Favor: Chpt 2 (Chubby!Bucky x Y/n)
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✨Last Chapter✨
Bucky's POV
"Come on Buck, you can't tell me you have plans, I know you don't," Steve says, trying to get me to go out to the club with him.
I'm not as confident as he is, I've never been completely at peace with the way my body looks. Other than a pity kiss once in a while from dates that don't go well, I've never had a girlfriend. I've never even had sex, god I'm pathetic!
I look away from Steve, "I do have plans, I have to get to work on making a cake."
Steve raises an eyebrow, "You rarely ever work on a cake outside of business hours, what's the cake for?"
My hands suddenly become very interesting, "Sarah (Y/L/N)."
Steve's POV
Of course Bucky's making Sarah's cake, he'd do anything to make (Y/n) smile, the poor sap. He's my best friend and I love him, but he's always been so shy, always plays things close to the chest.
(Y/n) is really the only person besides me who can crack into Bucky, she brings out the most vulnerable and genuine version of him.
Nodding, I look at Bucky, "Just promise me you'll come out with me next weekend, and I'll drop it about tonight."
He runs his fingers through his long hair, "Steve, you know I'm not comfortable enough to go out like that."
I pat his shoulder, "Okay, okay, I won't push you on it tonight, just don't be too hard on yourself." I know he'll overwork himself if you let him.
Bucky's POV
I chuckle softly, "Okay, I won't do too much."
Steve smiles, "I'll see you later Buck." He gets up and walks out of our shared apartment.
Picking up my sketchpad, I jott down what I imagine Sarah's birthday cake will look like. I know she'll love it, she's such a sweet kid. With the background noise of the tv, I get lost in thought. Many things go through my head; (Y/n), Steve, Sarah, the cake, the idea of going to the club.
(Y/n)'s POV
"So then I was doing a keg stand and everyone was cheering me on! It was amazing!," the guy, who's name I didn't care to remember, kept going on and on about some lame frat party that I couldn't care less about.
It takes everything in my body to not repeatedly slam my head onto the table, to make myself feel something again. I give him my best fake smile, "That sounds like loads of fun! I wish I had been there!"
The guy grins, I think his name is Brandon, Brent, Braxton, fuck if I know! He replies, "You should totally come to the next party!"
I can't do this, I'm losing more brain cells by the second, "Honestly, I'd rather slam my head on a brick wall."
He scoffs, "Geez babe, no need to be so harsh. I gotta take a whizz, I'll be right back."
I sigh in relief and quickly call Bucky, I grin when he picks up, "Oh thank god, I'm on a terrible blind date and I need you to call me in five minutes with some sort of emergency, it just has to be urgent enough for me to get out of here, please?"
He chuckles, "Yeah, yeah, I can do that, don't worry. But we should probably hang up now."
I nod, "Yeah, remember five minutes." We both hang up and I put my phone away.
Right on time, my phone blares 'Let's Groove' by Earth, Wind & Fire, I quickly answer, "Hey Buck... Oh god! Yes, I'll be right there! Well don't move him, that could make it worse!"
The frat guy raises an eyebrow at me, "Everything okay?"
I shake my head, "My brother hurt himself, I have to go be with him!" I worked up some fake tears, it was easy, all I had to do was think of sad movies.
The frat guy's eyes got wide, "Yeah, yeah, go! I'll call you later!"
I get up and run out, yelling behind me, "Please don't!" I put my phone to my ear again, "Still there Bucky?"
I hear a chuckle and Bucky's reply, "Yeah, I'm still here, must have been a terrible date."
I smile, getting into my car and putting him on speaker phone, "I think I can feel the brain cells reviving themselves as we speak."
Bucky laughs, "Ouch, he was that bad?"
I can't help but giggle, "Yes! I genuinely thought about just screaming until he left, like horror movie screaming."
Bucky chuckles and sighs, "Want to come over? I promise I'm better company than that guy."
I take a different turn than I would to go home, "That would be great! I'll see you soon!"
Bucky's POV
She's coming over! Shit! Quickly I clean up my sketches for the cake, not wanting her to see.
Upon hearing a knock at my door, I nearly break my neck to open the door. Standing there is the most beautiful woman, she never fails to amaze me just by being her. I stand aside to let her in, then close the door behind her.
We walk over to the couch and she puts her purse down on the floor, her heels going next to it.
Finally, I speak, "So why go on the date if you were going to end up running out?"
She smiles and laughs softly, "I didn't know it would go terribly, but I hoped it would."
I furrow my brow at her, "Why would you hope for that?" I can't imagine anticipating that a date go south.
She nods, "My friend keeps setting me up, and I love her, I know she only has good intentions, but she's got shit taste in men for me. They've all turned out to be self-obsessed, elitist jerks. I admire a certain amount of self-confidence, but they ooze arrogance. Plus she promised me that if this date went badly that she'd hang up her matchmaking hat."
I nod, "So you don't want to date?"
She smiles, "If the time and the guy were just right, I'd be willing, but I'm not desperate for a relationship. Anyways, can we watch something? Preferably something that I don't have to pay much attention to."
(Y/n)'s POV
Someone's carrying me! I open my eyes to see Bucky carrying me to his room, I give him a half awake smile, "I didn't mean to fall asleep on you."
I can feel his laugh in his chest, he smiles back, "Don't worry about it. I'm gonna lay you down in my bed and I'll take the couch."
I shift in his arms a bit, "No no no, you take your bed, I'll take the couch."
He wouldn't hear it, "You're taking the bed, (Y/n/n), I'll be fine."
Knowing I won't be able to convince him otherwise without making my crush on him fairly clear, I sigh and rest my head on his chest, "Thank you for tonight, for bailing me out, you're so amazing."
He sets me down on his bed and smiles, he opens his dresser drawers, pulling out the most comfy-looking pair of sweatpants and a shirt, "You're more than welcome to change into these if that'll be more comfortable."
I get up and walk over to him, turn my back to him, "Could you unzip me?"
Bucky's POV
Unzip her? I'd be more than happy to, but that might be the issue.
Grabbing the zipper, I pull down gently, savoring every millisecond as I see more and more skin exposed. It might just be her back, but it's the most skin I've seen on a woman in person. It's beautiful, mesmerizing.
(Y/n)'s POV
I can feel his breath on my back, giving me goosebumps, but I'm too afraid of what I might do if I react right now.
After a second, I turn around and smile, "Thank you, really, I'm so lucky to have you in my life." I give him a light kiss on the cheek and a hug, which he returns quickly.
I pull away reluctantly and look up at him, just admiring his steel blue eyes in the dim light. He smiles at me and I swear I could melt, does he know what he does to me?
Bucky looks to the side for a moment, then back at me, "I'll let you rest, goodnight doll."
Doll, he hasn't called me that in a minute, I forgot how much I missed it. We both got so busy with life, but I don't want that to happen again, especially if I get to hear him call me doll.
I change into the clothes he provided, oh my god, they're so comfy! I have to figure out a way to sneak these out with me in the morning.
Bucky's POV
I did manage to fall asleep on the couch, as uncomfortable as it is to sleep on. I heard Steve come home before I fell asleep, he asked me why I was on the couch, I told him (Y/n)'s in my bed. He just laughed and told me to wear protection.
Nudging, stroking on my cheek, gentle shaking, I finally wake up to see a beautiful woman kneeling in front of me. (Y/n) smiles, "Hi."
I rub my eyes with the heels of my palms, "Hey, what's up?"
She bites her lip, "Can you come to bed? I want to cuddle."
I could swear I'm still asleep, this must be a bad porno dream! Without much protest on my end, we end up in my bed, her head on my chest.
I kiss her head and rub her back, my tv as background noise.
(Y/n)'s POV
After getting Bucky to bed, I get comfortable with him, my head on his chest. It's much easier to relax now.
✨Next Chapter✨
Taglist: @silentkiller2374
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aetherarf · 3 years
Note
Thank you! I very much like Teppei.
Also I know Teppei has a wife, so if you wanna make it fem reader to be canon compliant that's fine, but personally I'd prefer gender neutral if you don't mind.
The prompt is: Teppei's S/O was severely wounded in the fight on the beach, and Teppei fights to keep samurai away from them, and gets a vision mid battle.
Then a touching moment after the fight where he's helping apply beetle stuff on the reader's wound.
Sorry if my prompt isn't enough for you, I think the scenario is sweet.
I'm not a stickler for being canon compliant, so I'll do gender neutral just cuz that's my thing.
Note: Anata is a term of endearment, similar to calling your partner 'hubby'/'wifey' too a degree, literally meaning 'You'. It's used, more commonly, by women towards their husbands but it can be used gender neutrally, just less commonly so.
[[ Warning: Gore, Blood, Injury, Background Death, Near Death, Graphic Descriptions ]]
[[ Summary: The battle was violent, and it was getting close to the end... of the battle, and for you. But luck was on Teppei's side, and maybe the gods were, too.
Word Count: 1'119 ]]
Battle wasn't something he was new to, but when there was blood splattering on his own skin, shockingly warm as soon as it hits him...
He wouldn't get used to that- maybe it was a good thing he wasn't ever comforted by it.
Not time to think, as he jabbed his spear through the body of an enemy, and the blood shot out, the crunching of bone and the slicing of flesh ringing in his eardrums, his eyes shot wide open as he listened to everything-
He ripped his spear back out, spinning around and slashing the spear, hearing a shout and more blood, blood blood blood, the poor bastard collapsing to the ground, he jabbing his spear right into the Samurai's throat, staring down at them with no small amount of horror and shock as they failed to gasp for air, blood beginning to bubble from their mouth as they scrambled for the spear...
And they were gone, Teppei taking the weapon out again, the body spasming in reaction to the pain-
Why-
Why did...
Why did it feel like time had slowed, that nothing was passing as it should. There was so much fear in his heart, he stopped feeling, and he could only hear his own breathing, his heartbeat, and-
"Teppei!"
He spun around, his own body feeling oddly light- floaty. Like he could drift away, floating on a river.
But the only river was the one at his feet, and he looked forward and saw an enemy slice through...
You.
You, you, you, he thought, running at full speed, hearing his own panting in his ears, his heartbeat morphing into the drums of war, ringing, booming, and as he screamed, lifting up his spear, half skidding as he lifted it over his head, the drums were too loud for him to hear his own voice, much less a single thought...
Suddenly, there was something in his other hand, clenched so tight he could feel the edges jabbing into flesh, and he felt... wet...
As though he did end up floating down a lazy river.
He threw the spear-- And through the rain, droplets danced around the spear, it beginning to spin, to glow as it shot forward, and the poor bastard who had sliced you open was met with a spear straight to the face, the crunching of his skull, his face no longer a face as he collapsed backward onto the ground...
Teppei didn't care, he kept running to you, falling to his knees just beside you, your skin pale and sickly, blood having drained from a wound you failed to plug with your hand over it...
"No, no, nono..." He shook his head, "Please, Anata..." He almost reached for your hand, but then he remembered- he was holding something, and as he looked...
A vision.
Hydro.
It sat there, and as the drums of war faded out, it too had dulled ever so slightly, not shining like a beacon, but only a pleasant hum of light...
And it beat, bum, bum, bum.
It was beating with the heart that pounded in his chest.
Hydro, like... Like the Divine Priestess herself...
"Teppei," you said, weakly, "Please... look at me... I... I want to see you before I go."
His heart sunk...
With the wound, and no healer, you'd die, but...
Hydro was the element of life. It was the most nourishing, healing, protecting.
And even when he set it down, brows furrowed as he looked at his palms... two small orbs of water. It still beat, bum bum bum, with his heart.
"Anata," he said, softly, "This is going to... to sting."
With all the fear in his heart, he swallows it, and slowly rests it to your stomach... the massive wound, a scar would remain, but he would kiss it everyday, worship it every morn if he knew you'd survive...
As he set it on, it seemed to instinctively fill it in- and it was tinted with the color of blood, but it refused to leak off... and as he watched, he could see it gently tugging at your ripped wound, as though it wanted to put you back together, he able to watch the healing progress...
"Teppei... it doesn't hurt... is that bad?"
Was it bad?
He didn't know.
"No... no, just breathe."
"I'm... i'm scared, it's not hurting anymore."
A lack of pain could refer to imminent death, but... It could also be Hydro healing...
Instead of giving up, he rested his hands on either side of your wound, gently pressing them together, and you... sighed.
A sigh of relief, and he could watch as the water seemed to condense, forming faux stitches that held you together.
And slowly, ever so slowly, your body was sealed.
A scar, a massive scar over your body, but he didn't care- it was just as perfect as the rest of you, he nearly pressing his lips to it, but he knew better. That was for a different time.
Your hand rested over your stomach as the water, the hydro trickled off, sinking into the earth, its duty complete. Your bloodied hand left a faint print on your stomach, a reminder of the injury that was just there. Awkwardly, you pushed yourself up, trying to look, but Teppei put his hand on the back of your head.
"... Shhh," he hushed, looking around... Somehow, everything was oddly quiet.
But he wasn't afraid.
He could protect now, he... he was now strong enough to heal, as well.
Something he could never have done without the god's favor.
"Wait, wait, waitwaitwait!" He chirped, so innocently excited as though nothing wrong had happened, and he grabbed the vision, and placed it right into your unbloodied hand, "Look, look..."
Your hand wrapped around it, and then lifted your hand, staring for a moment... then your eyes widened.
"You... you..."
"Anata," he said, "You gave me what I needed to get a vision."
As awkward as it was, he refused to lift you up, but still hugged you as you lie on the muddied ground, still weak from the blood- that he could not heal, but if you lived, he'd nurse you back to health, with or without the blessing of his Vision.
"Teppei... you always had it. You just... needed to show it."
"No, no... Anata... just rest, my love. We'll return to the resistance camp and... and we can celebrate then."
Celebrate.
Just a few moments ago, he thought he'd be mourning.
The drums of war had become little more than a rhythm of his adoration now. And oh, even if it never stopped, he could live with it.
What he couldn't live with was a lack of you.
Bum bum bum.
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