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#had a bit more energy today. this one's inspired by real events
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janaispunk · 6 months
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still bejeweled
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pairing: joel miller x f!reader
word count: ~4.4k
summary: after breaking up with your boyfriend, your self-esteem is crushed. your best friend takes you to your favorite bar to take your mind off of things. there's a band is playing there tonight and the singer immediately catches your eye. inspired by taylor swift's bejeweled – and when i meet the band, they ask, 'do you have a man?', i could still say, 'i don't remember'
tags/warnings: explicit smut, only 18+, no/pre-outbreak au, no sarah, musician!joel, small age gap (reader is in her late 20s, joel's in his mid 30s), alcohol consumption, joel pulls her hair, able-bodied reader, a bit of angst, fluff, making out, fingering, dirty talk (joel talks you through it, i just know it), praise kink, unprotected p in v (i just didn't feel like mentioning it, this is my fantasy world where pregnancies & sti's don't exist, but they very much exist in the real world, don't do this), joel has a big dick (it's canon), consent king joel, rough sex, ass-slapping, hair-pulling, please let me know if i missed anything!
a/n: this came to me while making breakfast and listening to taylor, and didn't want to leave my head again. pretty self indulgent, i'm fairly certain that a musician!joel in my life would fix me. also, to boyfriends everywhere: fuck you <3
• dividers by the lovely @saradika!
• find my full masterlist here!
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You storm out of the apartment, fighting back the tears that are threatening to spill over. This is it for good, you tell yourself. It's not the first fight of the sort that you and your boyfriend Max – now ex-boyfriend, you guess – have gotten into, with you usually backing down eventually, to keep the peace between the two of you. You've been together for more than three years, and you had hoped that this might be the one – the guy that you can settle down with, the one that you've been waiting for.
But over the past few months, Max has gotten more distant, less involved in the relationship, less interested in you, making you feel like you're burdening him, like you're always asking for too much. Like you are too much. You had asked several times if something was bothering him, something that you could work through together. Everything's fine babe, I don't know why you're even asking. Stop getting on my nerves with this.
You scoff to yourself. Usually, this was the point where you would step back from the argument, not willing to invest energy in a fight that wouldn't lead to anything anyway. Maybe things weren't perfect with Max, but they were what you knew. Familiar, comfortable. Better than being alone. Maybe not the big love that books and movies told you about, but who knows if that sort of thing even exists.
But today, when he just wouldn't give a shit about anything you said, something inside of you had snapped. “I feel like you don't even love me anymore. Do you?!” you had demanded, and the look on his face had told you everything that you needed to know.
That's how you find yourself on the street in front of your best friend's place, the short walk having somewhat cleared your head. Who does Max even think he is? It's not too much to ask to care about your partner, to show interest in them, to support them, is it? And he hasn't done any of that in quite some time.
All things considered, he just wasn't that great of a boyfriend. Still, you can't help feeling sad about it. Another relationship failed, another guy that just didn't deem you as good enough to pay attention to you. Maybe you're just not that interesting, a voice in your head whispers. You sniffle and shake your head, willing the thought out of your mind.
Your best friend Amanda greets you at her door, immediately clocking your slumped shoulders and reddened eyes, and hugs you tightly while leading you into her living room. Her concern for you elicits another wave of tears and you shakily recap today's events to her. She listens patiently, thankfully not telling you that you're better off without him or something like that, because even though you know that yourself, you don't think you could bear someone else saying it.
“I just can't believe that I'm single again and need to start over once more and I just-,” you bite your lip, willing away the tears that are pooling in your eyes, “I just feel like I'm not enough, like I can't keep a guy or I'm too picky, I don't know. It's just so frustrating, I don't wanna end up alone.”
Amanda's expression softens and she pulls you into her arms again. “You're not gonna end up alone, I promise you. You're funny and smart and,” she looks you up and down, “fucking hot. But you can't settle for less just because you're scared of ending up alone, okay? You're gonna find the guy that's right for you and then it will all make sense. Promise.”
You sigh, not sure if you believe her but also not in the mood to argue. After more talking, during which she eventually slips a glass of wine into your hand, Amanda decides that the two of you should go out tonight. Blow off some steam, show the world and yourself that you've still got it, as she puts it. You're honestly not sure if you've ever had it to begin with, but you let her enthusiasm wash over you, playing along as she insists that you wear one of her skimpiest dresses and starts doing your make up. You feel a little self-conscious with the tiny black dress that she has put you in and the dramatic red lipstick that she's currently applying to your lips.
“Don't look at me like that. You look so good and you'd know that if that fucker hadn't made you feel like you didn't for the past few months. But you've been too good of a girl for far too long now, and we're gonna change that tonight. Deal?” She expectantly holds her hand out for you to shake and you feel the excitement starting to bubble up in you. Maybe she's right and you do need to let go of your insecurities tonight. You shake her hand and she laughs delightedly, causing you to giggle as well.
Amanda finally declares that you're good to go, digging a sparkly handbag that's covered in tiny silvery jewels out of her closet. That one's actually yours, but you had left it at her place a few weeks ago after Max had told you how it was just too much and how you looked ridiculous with it. You had let it slide, thinking that it wasn't worth it to ruin the evening by fighting over a stupid handbag. What was wrong with you, you think to yourself now.
You look at yourself in her full-length mirror and you have to agree, you do look good. The short dress leaves most of your thighs bare, hugging your curves in all the right ways and the lipstick looks amazing, drawing the focus to the shape of your mouth. You do polish up real nice.
Amanda's boyfriend Patricks whistles appreciatively when you both exit from the bedroom and wishes you loads of fun. That's what a boyfriend should be like, you think to yourself. Supportive, loving, and just... kind?
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Amanda drags you to one of your favorite bars. You've been here countless times together; usually it's a good crowd and the drinks are cheap. It's live music night, you realize as you walk in and notice the small stage at the far end of the room, which also explains why it's more crowded than usual. You push through a few people and manage to find two seats at the bar, from where you can watch the stage and hear the music, but it isn't too loud to talk.
The bartender comes up to you and Amanda orders tequila shots before you can even open your mouth. “I would've stuck to wine,” you complain to her and she shrugs, a big grin on her our face.
“That wouldn't be half as fun. We're going all out tonight, remember?”
You roll your eyes and nod, but when you down the first shot and bite down on the lime, you can't help the laugh that bubbles up in your throat. “That's my girl!” Amanda giggles and promptly orders another round. After two more shots and feeling the tingling warmth that's spreading through your body, you let your eyes wander around the room until they find the stage.
It's mostly local bands that play here, some better than others, and tonight's isn't half bad. It's four guys, a little older than you, mid-thirties if you had to guess, and their music has an acoustic, country-ish vibe to it. Your eyes linger on the man in the front, who is softly singing into the microphone while strumming along on his guitar.
He's kinda hot, you muse to yourself, gaze trained on the way his muscles are softly flexing while he's plucking on the guitar strings with his large hands, the sleeves of his dark t-shirt straining against his arms. His deep voice is washing over you, reminding you of whiskey and honey, and you squint a little to take a closer look at his face. He has a strong jaw and pouty lips, and dark, expressive eyes that gaze into the room while he's singing. You can't explain it, but something about him just feels... warm. Like he's safe. Kind.
He has a scruffy beard and messy curls, giving him a sort of rugged look, that, combined with his incredibly broad shoulders, has you biting your lip subconsciously. How easily he could cage you in, how big and warm his hands would feel on your body...
Damn, he's really hot. And you really feel the tequila talking right now.
Amanda's fingers appear in your field of vision, snapping impatiently and you turn back to her, heat crawling up your cheeks. You might have been staring a bit too obviously. “Which one?” she grins.
“Huh?” you ask, rather poorly feigning innocence.
“Oh, come on! Okay, I'll guess,” she continues on, not giving you a chance to even try to deny anything, “it's the singer, right?”
“I-,” you start, but the look on her face tells you that it's already a lost cause, “yeah.”
She laughs delightedly and gestures to the bartender for another round of shots. “Oh, I don't think-,” you try to object, but she shushes you.
“I won't rest until you've made a move on that guy, good choice dare I say, and live a little. So drink up!” She toasts to you and you can't help laughing yourself before you tip your head back and swallow the burning alcohol in one go.
You steal another glance towards the stage – maybe a rather extended glance in all honesty – and catch the singer's eye. He holds your gaze for a few seconds, then he lets his eyes wander around the room, before returning to you, his lips curling into a knowing smirk when you're still looking at him.
You hastily tear yourself away, leaning into Amanda in an attempt of hiding how flustered you're suddenly feeling. “That was fucking hot,” she breathes into your ear.
“I know,” you whisper back urgently. Then the insecurity kicks back in. “Do you think he really meant me? I mean, we're all the way in the back here, I bet he can barely see-”
Amanda swats at your arm, shaking her head. “Please, he totally meant you. You're gonna talk to him later, you hear me?”
You groan, “Oh my god,” and lean into her further. “I'm not cut out for all this, I wouldn't even know what to say.” She tsks at you and orders another round of drinks, not taking No for an answer.
You loosen up a little over time, throwing a few more glances towards the stage and delight in the way he always seems to just wait for you to look at him. When you've made eye contact several times, he winks at you and you can't help but giggle, a kind of warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the alcohol. A wide grin stretches across his face as he announces the last song for the night. You give up all pretenses, your eyes basically glued to him until he strums his guitar one last time, then thanks the audience and joins his bandmates as they wander off the stage.
The bands usually pack up, then join the bar's patrons for a few beers. You try not to appear totally desperate and refrain from staring at the door that leads backstage, instead busying yourself with your drink and listening to Amanda, when you feel someone sliding to the bar counter behind you and a hand lands to rest on your shoulder. A very big, very warm hand, you come to notice, before a deep, honeyed voice floats into your ear, causing you to turn around.
“Hi. Can I buy you a drink?”
He seems even bigger up close, and even more handsome, and your lips part slightly, taking him in. You take a beat too long to answer, just sinking into his deep brown eyes, and a grin slowly spreads across his face. “I'm Joel, by the way.” He extends a hand for you to shake and you blink, shaking yourself out of your staring, quickly taking his hand and offering your own name.
His hand dwarfs yours, enveloping it in his warmth and you feel yourself blush. This is the moment, you tell yourself. “I'd love a drink,” you smile at him and he flags down the bartender to take your order. You steal a glance at Amanda, who's nodding enthusiastically.
“So...” Joel drawls when you have your drink, still standing so close to you that you're almost touching, with a smirk playing around the corner of his mouth, “do you have a man, or-?”
Your thoughts briefly flicker to Max, but you find that you can barely remember how devastated you felt mere hours ago, that you can hardly recall his face right now. “No... no, I don't.”
“She most certainly does not, she's all yours,” Amanda chimes in, leaning around you and beaming at Joel.
You can't help but giggle at the entire situation, pleasantly buzzing with both the alcohol in your system and the feeling of having Joel in your direct proximity, and finding him more attractive with every minute that you look at him.
“I really liked your performance,” you tell him and his grin widens.
“Yeah? I could tell, sweetheart.” You laugh; the pet name has your heart soaring in your chest, but you feel completely relaxed with him, not awkward, not desperate to please him or keep his interest. You just feel... good. Really, really good.
Talking to him is easy. He makes you laugh, makes you feel comfortable, and your cheeks almost hurt from smiling so much, but you can't stop. He's constantly touching you, his hand lingering on your shoulder, your arm, sliding down to your waist, and leaving goosebumps in its wake.
When he pulls at your hips to pull you off your bar stool, you quickly follow his lead, letting him sway you around to the music that's now playing from the juke box, giggling the entire time. You feel like a teenager, but you couldn't care less. You're tipsy, you're happy, the easily most attractive man that you've ever met seems to be more than interested in you – you feel amazing.
Joel's hand comes up to cup your face, his calloused fingertips brushing over your cheek and you lean into his touch. His eyes flick down to your lips and your breath stutters in your chest. Your arms wrap around his neck at the same time that he leans in until his mouth meets yours, your lips eagerly opening against his.
A pleased hum is rumbling up in his chest and both of his hands grab at your hips, pulling your body flush against him as his tongue licks into your mouth. Your hands burrow into the messy curls at his neck and you all but whimper against his lips. You feel his mouth curl into a smile before he pulls away, the look in his eyes a little dazed, mirroring your own.
“You you wanna come home with me?” he asks quietly, “I live right around the corner.”
There's no need to even think about it, you want this man desperately. You quickly check on Amanda, who waves you off with a shit-eating grin and some rather crude words of encouragement.
You swing your glittery purse over your shoulder and Joel whistles lowly. “That's fancy. I like it.”
Your eyes widen slightly. “You do?”
“Yeah. Suits you.” A wide smile is spreading across your face and, without a second thought, you grab his hand to pull him out of the bar.
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He really lives close nearby and you're stumbling through a dark hallway barely five minutes later. Joel has his hands on your hips and his lips on your mouth, kissing you roughly as he leads you into what you presume is the direction of his bedroom. He kicks the bedroom door shut behind you and crowds you up against the wood, his hands grabbing at your sides, pulling at the dress, revealing more skin to his touch.
The room is dimly lit, yellow light from the street below filtering in through the windows, and his eyes roam over you. “Fuck, you're so hot,” he growls and captures your mouth in another searing kiss, his hand coming up to palm at your breasts, roughly squeezing the flesh and running his thumb over your nipple through the fabric. You mewl into his mouth and he pulls back breathlessly. “You're an eager little thing, aren't you?” he murmurs and you arch your back, trying to press yourself back into his touch.
“Please, Joel,” you whimper and he chuckles before diving back in, his tongue hot in your mouth and his fingers creeping under your dress, toying with the hem of your underwear.
He pulls it aside, his fingers grazing your already soaked folds and you buck your hips into his touch. He slides your dress up higher until his hand comes to rest on your bare hip and he searches your face.
“You're feeling good? You want this?”
You nod eagerly and he tuts softly. “Gotta let me hear it, sweetheart.”
You bite your lip, his respectfulness paired with the dark look in his eyes spurring your arousal on even further. “I want it, please.”
“Good girl, so polite too,” he murmurs and your legs almost buckle underneath you. His hand travels back between your legs, grabbing at your underwear and quickly pulling it off of you, before his fingers are back, sliding through your wetness and circling your clit slowly.
“Fuck, you're dripping. So good for me, all eager and ready, huh?”
The whine that comes out of you sounds faintly like a “yes” and he presses another kiss to your lips, before he thrusts two fingers into you, stretching you deliciously.
“Fucking tight,” he murmurs against your mouth, his voice sounding wrecked already. He sets a languid pace, pausing every so often to curl his fingers deep within you, hitting that spongy spot that has your legs shaking and your hands grabbing at his shoulders as high-pitched whines fall out of your mouth.
You can see the pleased smirk on his face as you're falling apart on just his fingers. His other hand travels up to the straps of your dress, pulling them down and revealing your breasts to him.
His lips suck on the newly exposed flesh and you hear him mutter, “so fucking pretty” against your skin. His mouth travels to your nipple, flicking his tongue over the hardened bud, while his fingers keep thrusting and curling inside of you.
Heat is boiling in your abdomen, licking at your spine and you can almost taste your orgasm already. “Joel, I'm gonna- please don't stop, please,” you manage to breathe out.
“You're gonna come on my fingers, pretty girl?” he asks, before sucking your nipple back into his mouth. “Go ahead, let me feel it.” His thumb starts to toy with your clit in quick, precise circles, and you gasp. The heat spreads through your entire body as your orgasm takes hold of you, your toes curling and your legs shaking while you pulse wildly around his fingers.
“Good girl, you look so pretty when you come,” Joel whispers, trailing kisses from your breasts up to your neck as you slowly come down from your high.
Joel maneuvers you to his bed, supporting your weight and gently setting you down until you're sprawled out on the covers. You can still feel the aftershocks from your orgasm, but your want for him is coursing through you like a wildfire and you eagerly stretch your arms out for him.
He chuckles, mumbling something about you being insatiable and quickly pulls his shirt over his head, revealing golden skin and a body that's obviously strong and muscular, but he still has a softness to him.
You sit back up and scoot closer, your hands flying to his beltbuckle as you press kisses against his belly, reveling in the way his breath hitches and his muscles are twitching under your mouth.
You tilt your head up, silently asking for permission as you tug on his pants and he nods, smiling down at you. You pull his pants and underwear down in one go, desperate to see all of him, and you can't help the soft gasp that escapes your mouth at the sight before you.
He's fucking big, and you should probably worry about fitting all of him inside of you, but instead the fire in your abdomen is flaring up again and you subconsciously press your thighs together.
Joel leans down to you, pulling your already bunched up dress over your head and leaving you just as bare as he is.
“Like what you see, sweetheart?” he smirks.
“I- yeah,” you nod, shyly smiling up at him and he pecks your lips.
“Me too.”
He crowds you in, his broad body looming over yours as you lay back down on the bed and his fingers find their way in between your legs again. He grazes your clit, then swirls a finger through your wetness, spreading it on your inner thighs, and your hips buck up into his touch, causing him to chuckle.
“Impatient little thing.”
You can barely form a coherent thought, you're desperate to feel his cock inside of you and you eagerly part your legs when he situates his body between them. He grabs at your thigh, spreading you open even wider, before landing a playful slap against the backside. An almost embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and Joel's smirk turns downright feral.
“You liked that, sweetheart? You like it when I'm a little rough with you?”
He's grinding his hips against you, sliding his cock through your wetness, the tip almost catching at your entrance. You're past the point of caring, nodding mindlessly, you just want him inside of you.
“Fuck, yes, please Joel, please.”
“Should've known,” he mumbles, “it's always the quiet ones. Actin' all shy, but you need it bad, don't you? Gonna fuck you so good, take such good care of you, don't you worry.”
You whimper, your breath catching in your throat when he lines his cock up with your center, his tip already parting your walls, but he stops himself again. “Tell me once more, sweetheart. You still good, still want this?”
“Yes Joel, fuck, I want it,” you whine. The words have barely left your mouth when he slams into you, filling you to the brim. You cry out at the sudden intrusion, your walls fluttering around his length, trying to accommodate him as he's splitting you open. The stretch is intense, bordering on painful, but you still feel yourself getting wetter around him, pain turning into pleasure as he stills inside of you for a few moments to let you adjust.
“Goddamn it, you're tight, you're taking me so good, such a good fuckin' girl.”
His mouth is close to your ear, muttering filth to you with his hot breath fanning against the sensitive skin on your neck. Another loud moan falls from your mouth at his words and you clench around his cock that's still buried deep inside of you, causing him to groan.
“Yeah you like that, wanna be a good girl for me, don't you?”
You nod breathlessly and he pulls out almost entirely before slamming back into you, setting a brutal rhythm that's forcing moans from your throat and has you wildly clenching around him. One of his hands is playing with your nipples again, pinching and pulling at your delicate flesh and sending delicious sparks of pleasure straight to your core while he's still fucking you deeply. It's incredible, already easily the best you've ever had, but you still want more, want him deeper.
“Oh my god, p-please Joel,” you stutter.
“Please what?”
“H-harder, please.” He growls at that, pulling himself out of you and flipping you around until you're on your knees, presenting your ass to him. He presses his cock back into you, knocking the air out of your lungs, and his hand connects with the skin on your ass cheek in a harsh slap.
“Knew you were a filthy little thing, fuck, just waitin' around for someone to give it to you hard, huh?” he growls. The way he's talking to you is going straight to your core and you feel a second high approaching rapidly.
His hand tangles in your hair, making a fist and pulling until you're arching your back, slightly changing the angle and letting him hit a spot inside of you that absolutely devastates you. There's stars dancing across your eyes, your thighs are quivering and your walls are pulsing rhythmically.
“Not someone, just- just for you,” you moan out, shuddering around him as another orgasm washes over you, your vision swimming and you're clamping down on him.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” Joel mutters, his hands grabbing your hips roughly and holding onto you with strong hands as he stills his movements and spills himself deep inside of you.
You feel almost delirious as Joel hugs you tightly to his body, kissing you deeply before he gently lays you down on the bed. He cleans you up, gets you a glass of water and covers you with a thick blanket before he slides into bed beside you.
His arm wraps around your middle and he pulls you closer against his chest, engulfing you in his warmth and peppering your bare neck and shoulders with kisses. You nuzzle into him, your eyes falling shut as you relax under his soft touches. You can't remember the last time you felt this good. Protected, cared for, happy.
“Sweetheart?” Joel's voice sounds from behind you and you give a little hum. “I know this started out like a one night thing, but-” he pauses, almost sounding a little shy, “promise me that you won't just vanish in the morning, okay?” You smile and crane your head to press your lips against his once more.
“I promise.”
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a/n #2: ...yeah, this would definitely fix me. shout out to the real life amanda for being an amazing friend and the best hype woman, thank you for yelling about pedro with me 24/7. also shout out to the real life patrick for being an amazing boyfriend and providing us with insights about the male sexual experience lol. thank you guys for being the best adoptive parents to my third-wheeling single ass. <3
thank you so much for reading! if you liked this, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment!
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avery73 · 4 days
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Sapphire
Pt. 3
Aged Up Bayverse Inspired TMNT
Adult Leo x OC Iris (includes other canon characters)
Warnings: Mature Content (18+ readers only), emotional distress, cussing, grief receiving devastating news
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The ninja in blue laid awake next to her sleeping form as the hours drug them steadily towards dawn.
The two of them had sat wrapped in one another’s arms until his legs fell asleep. Then he thoughtfully packed everything still laid out on the bed as Iris showered. He’d cleaned up the floor, made the bed with fresh linens from the closet, and waited dutifully for her to finish washing so he could carry her to bed.
Genuinely exhausted at that point, Iris had fallen asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. Leo wanted badly to join her in slumberland. A few times managing to drift off for a bit. But the events of the evening wouldn’t shut off. They kept playing – his words, her words, his actions, hers – overlapping and turning over like clothes in a dryer. His fingers continuously tracing her blue heart tattoo as the thoughts tumbled inside. Over and over again, until the clock turned to 4 A.M. and the alarm sounded off in the quiet dark.
He worried he would have continued to feel torn on the matter of Iris’s departure as she readied herself to leave. Instead, he found himself pleasantly at ease. Perhaps it was her excitement turning the air static. His very nature to project calmness to combat her nerves. Maybe it was the bounce to her every step. Or it could’ve been the ever so faint weight of the pendant tapping his skin every time he tipped down as she raised up on tiptoes to flutter kisses across each other’s lips that made him oddly content.
More than likely though, he had an inkling it was the certainty she planted firmly in his heart. He was hers. She his. It would only be a few short weeks before they were together again. She’d come home to him. She’d always come home to him. Any doubt or fears on this now erased from his mind.
There was still a twinge of sadness at that kiss goodbye. A hint of disappointment as he watched her climb into the group van through the bathroom window. A smidge of regret seeing the van drive off into the early morning dawn. A deep sigh he let go as he snuck through shadows back below ground.
But once there, a surreal surge of excitement. She was his. He was hers. She had promised him. The pendant around his neck confirmation of her genuineness.Something he never even dared let himself hope for, much less believe he could have, suddenly all his. An impossibility she made real.
Energy swelled in his veins. A profound new lightness. Today was really going to be the beginning of a new life for him.
Leo shot off down the tunnels. Too much vigor in his muscles to go home and sleep. Too strong a desire to physicalize the sense of freedom and elation emanating within his core. He wanted to run. Jump, flip, and spin. And he knew just the route to take to do it all.
It was a loop he and his brothers often took when they felt claustrophobic in their youth. A set of tunnels that encompassed Central Park then headed back in direction of the old lair. It was great for sneaking some fresh air and a little sunlight, all without being seen.
Fondness at the memories pulled a wide smile across his face. He hadn’t felt this alive since, well, honestly since they fought Krang and sent the Technodrome back through the portal a few years back. Funnily enough, racing through the patches of morning light filtering in, Leo’s thoughts went back to the way his stomach would drop each time he leapt from piece of Technodrome to piece. Making his way up to face an unknown foe and back down to the rooftops he called a second home. The rush of victory. Of being alive.
He felt like that now. Like he was touching the sky. Breathing in crisp air no one else’s lungs had tasted before. Like he could do what no one else could. Because the truth was, he could.  
Sirens rang out on the road overhead. Roaring past and turning two blocks down. “Ah, good old New York,” he mused to himself, smile still burning his cheeks. Turning down a tunnel in the opposite direction, Leo pushed his muscles. To go harder. Faster. Chasing the high his forces induced.  
He rounded the final corner of his run. His body singing in praise of his exercise. Up ahead was a pipe just above a steep drop. He pushed a little harder, then rocketed upward. He actually had to pull some umph out of his jump to keep from landing on top of it now.
When they were younger, and smaller, his brothers and he used to bet on who could touch the highest point on that pipe before falling down to slide home on their shells. A hearty laugh rang out as he spotted the dent where Donnie had slammed shell first into it after egging Raph on to slingshot him up there once as preteens. He had nearly forgotten that. Recalling all their shenanigans as children made him smile even wider.  
Finally finished with his run, he trotted down yet another tunnel which would lead him home. A notable swell to his chest as he focused on easing his breathing. Happiness still swirling wildly inside.
Reminiscing on his childhood made him feel oddly playful. Maybe he’d challenge his brothers to a gaming war. They hadn’t done that in forever. Get Donnie out of his lab for a bit. Be competitive with Raph in a fun way. Get Mikey’s nickers in a knot by squashing his high score. They could splurge on some pizza with chips and dip. Just be brothers again. For a little bit. Before reality would suck them back into their responsibilities. Back to the very unplayful way they had to behave while on patrol.
Yeah, he thought. That sounded good. Really good. He missed that.
Leo took a deep breath in to call out to his siblings upon entering their new lair, then caught his breath. No one would be up yet. It was too early. They’d surely all be sleeping. Surely even Donnie would have dozed off at his desk by now if he’d pulled another 24 hour stretch in the lab.
   That was alright. That’d mean he could do some meditating in complete silence. And shower. He realized he hadn’t done that at Iris’s. He probably smelled so strongly the scent would linger in the hallway were he stood. Alright, shower first. Then meditate. Maybe sneak a little nap. Then womp his younger siblings silly. Sounded like one heck of a plan to him.   
A quick dart into his room to snag some clean pants then into the washroom, locking the door behind him. Gah, had any shower ever felt so good before? Everything just seemed perfect. Just the right amount of pressure. The temperature nice and hot. It was almost like a dream in and of itself as he stood under the spray, eyes closed, savoring simply existing in that moment.   
Someone rushed down the hall. Hum…. Some commotion further in the lair. That was odd.
Leo shrugged it off. Mikey’s stomach yelling at him for food no doubt. He’d probably emerge to find a huge mess in their makeshift kitchen. Oh well, Leo thought. He could worry about that later. Right now, he just wanted to keep enjoying the serenity of running water, the warmth on his scales. The bliss in his heart.
The peculiarity of his observation almost escaped the mutant by the time he finished his shower. But just as his fingers touched the knob to his bedroom door, another unfamiliar sound for the lair met his ears.
It really sounded like someone crying.
Senses went on alert. Assertive steps carried him to the common room. There he observed his family gathered around April.
Something was wrong. Really wrong.
The woman he considered a sister was sobbing hard into her hands. Jones was standing behind her; one hand on a hip with the other covering his mouth as beads of tears rolled silently down his cheeks. Donnie was squatted low next to her; his knees tucked under his chin and his hands clinched together over the back of his head. Raph paced just to the side of them; hands suspended in air as if he were unsure of where they should go, his eyes unnaturally wide. Mikey rocked almost violently as he stood in front of April; his head dropped back with ragged breaths rattling free past his arms crossed over his plastron. And his Sensi, kneeled behind the group, forehead against his folded hands as though in prayer, whiskers trembling.  
What the fuck was going on?
As if she sensed his presence, April’s puffy, red eyes raised to meet his. “Oh, Leo.” Her hand immediately reached out for him as she took rapid steps his way. Everyone else turned their attention to him. “Leo, I am so, so sorry.”
He didn’t like this. Everyone’s energy was all wrong.
“Sorry for what? What is going on?”
Leonardo took an instinctual step back away from her. April caught his discomfort and paused her approach. His brothers moved in close.
“I-it’s Iris, L-Leo.”
“What about her?” Leo snapped.
“Bro -,” Raph inched closer. Leo could see that his brothers’ masks were all damp. Droplets clung to the bottom rims of Donnie’s glasses.
Internal ropes pulled suffocatingly tight. The glass pane creaked under the pressure building within.
“I just saw her off to the airport a few hours ago. She was fine.” The blue banded terrapin could feel his fists clamp. Could feel his pulse with each pump trample over his temples. He had to suppress the intense urge to turn and run away.
“Leo – bruh, it’s -,” Mikey was reaching out for him now. Leo had to bite back the impulse to slap his youngest brother’s hand away.
The way his siblings were closing in around him, their hands held up as if to communicate they weren’t a danger, gave Leo the sense he were a wild animal they were trying to corral. He felt backed into a corner. Threatened.
“What about Iris!” his voice nearly a shout. The ropes groaning under their strain. Fissures spreading across the glass.
“T-there, was an, an accident, Leo,” April choked out between weeps.
Donnie came to stand in front of April. Protective in stance. His hands raised then dropped away repeatedly. Unsure of where his focus should be.
A snarl subconsciously bared his teeth and an unmistakable hiss at his brothers as they closed in on him.
Groaning. Creaking. Trembling under their tension.
“At the airport?” he spat; brain still unable to wrap around why they were treating him like he was dangerous.
“No.” An even more broken look overtook April’s pained expression. Raph dropped his head, squeezing his eyes closed while Donnie removed his glasses to drag the back of his wrist across his soaked eyes. An injured whimper broke past Mikey’s quivering lower lip. “Leo, she – Iris - she never made it to the airport.”
His heart hammered against the inside of his pectoral plate like a madman thrashing his head against the wall of his cell. Gnawing at the very ropes keeping him together.  
“Where is she?”
A sob broke free as Mikey’s shoulders began to shake aggressively. Sharp gasps of air fought to either enter or exit Raph’s lungs. The rad clad turtle’s hands shook and he blinked rapidly, unable to hold back the flood of moisture pouring out his eyes. Donnie suddenly took two long strides forward as if he anticipated needing to catch Leo.
“Where is she?!” he roared.
“She didn’t – she didn’t –“
No. No. This couldn’t be. He hadn’t felt – hadn’t even felt anything. Surely, he would’ve felt something if – if she -
“Leonardo -,” Master Splinter’s voice wavered for the very first time to Leo’s ears. “My son -,”
His heart imploded in his chest cavity. A hot, thick coat of blood painted the inside of his chest walls. Shrapnel from his shattered ribs tore through his airways, his lungs seizing from the inability to get oxygen. No longer an ounce of pressure in his head.
“She didn’t make it Leo,” Donnie’s voice uncommonly deep.
“No. Don’t say that. How do you even know? Who said she didn’t make it?!”
“It’s all over the news, Leo,” April’s volume barely above a whisper. “She’s not coming home.”
Snap.               Shatter.
There was suddenly tremendous noise. Enrage shouting. Shouting he was sure was in his voice. Jones had launched forward to wrap an arm around April and pulled her away. His brothers had flown forward. There was crying. Loud crying. And screaming. Chaos. Chaos everywhere.
Despite the insanity that had taken him over outwardly, inside his head, Leonardo was in fact very still and quiet. Standing motionless in a now empty, dimly lit metaphorical room in his mind. A black void closing in around him. And all he could do was watch as the floor darkened with salty tears dropping from his eyes.
A foreign, broken voice’s whisper echoing in the dark –
“This can’t be real.”
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Pt. 1 / Pt. 2
@luckycharms1701 @yorshie @justalotoffanfiction @khayalli @thelaundrybitch @turtlecleric @mxalmighty
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violettelueur · 3 years
Text
— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE SIXTEEN || KYOTO SISTER SCHOOL EXCHANGE EVENT - GROUP BATTLE 2
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↳ featuring : basically everyone at this point from jujutsu kaisen
↳ warnings : mention of explosions + EXTREME grammar issues
↳ form : story
↳ published : 29 march
↳ pronouns : she/her
↳ word count : 2.2k
↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....
↳ previous episode : kyoto sister school exchange event - group battle 1
↳ next episode : kyoto sister school exchange event - group battle 3
↳ barista’s notes : it’s been a while huh? ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ BUT! my exams and easter hoilday is nearly here, so i will be able to update more than i have been this month, so thank you all so much for being so patient with me ʕ•ᴥ•ʔノ♡ my heart can’t take all the kindness ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ other than that, i hope you all enjoy today’s episode since fushiugro doesn’t pop up until like episode eighteen...so hope you love all the made up scenarios that i have constructed ʕ→ᴥ← ʔ
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BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:
1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.
2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter.
2.5. for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique : hopefully this video is slightly better...
no cursed spells used this episode..
but the little sword swing is inspired by this : here
3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.
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“What’s with the smiley look on your face?” you asked as you lifted your eyebrow in curiosity since the man in front of you had a somewhat goofy grin plastered on him while adding a ridiculous amount of sugar cubes into his coffee cup causing you to shiver since you couldn’t imagine how sweet the caffeinated drink would be now if you tried it right now.
“Oh, nothing~ I’m just glad that I got to spend time with my daughter since we both have been so busy lately,” Gojo answered you brightly before grabbing the small metal spoon that was placed on the white saucer below his cup to stir the dark drink to quicken the process of the sugar dissolving.
Right now in the afternoon, you and Gojo were at a random luxury dessert place in the middle of Tokyo, where he had unexpectedly dragged you out of training that you had with the first and second years - much to their complete dismay - to have some ‘father and daughter’ bonding time together, leaving them to prepare today’s training by themselves since their plans were ruined with you now gone out of the scenario.
“Please don’t call me that,” you muttered as you processed to swirl your iced orange and mango juice with your straw before taking a quick sip of the cold beverage causing the tropical flavour to enlighten a light feeling of happiness within your stomach.
“So~ how is training for the exchange event going on?” Gojo asked as he took a sip of his cup causing you to look up at him before moving your lips away from the plastic straw. “It’s going well, Fushiguro and Kugisaki are improving bit by bit as well as the second years, it’s progress,” you replied back as your head began to nod slowly as you began to process everything in your head.
“Ah~ I knew I could count on you,” Gojo mentioned with a proud smile present on his face before looking over to the side to find the waiter coming to your table with the desserts that you both had ordered.
‘Well...isn’t it really your job as a teacher to train them?’
“Thank you so much,” you said to the waiter as they placed down your plates before giving you a nod as they processed to look after the other customers that were also in the cafe right now, leading Gojo to look at the treats in such delight before handing you one of the plates since he was the one that ordered everything - which was a complete surprise since you didn’t think he would remember you liking orange juice at all.
“Here you are! Tiramisu with fresh strawberries on top,” Gojo expressed with an excited tone causing you to look at him with a perplexed expression before slowly peering down at the small white plate that was placed in front of you to only find the mentioned dessert with a small fork right beside it.
“Did...you know I like tiramisu?” you asked bewilderedly since you had never mentioned anything about your favourite treats to Gojo since he was so keen on ordering as quickly as possible the second you both got here, to get the beautiful desserts as early as possible leaving you no room to add what you wanted.
“You were looking at it on the display when we got here, so I thought you wanted to give it a try,” Gojo informed you, leading you to look at him once again in surprise before steadily taking the fork in hand to dig into the treat you were gifted with.
“Thank you,” you mentioned with gratitude before you slowly began to tuck into the meal leaving Gojo to look at you with a smile before changing his gaze towards the sweet treats that were displayed at you both right now before gleefully taking the strawberry shortcake as his first choice.
“Y/N...when the exchange event comes...don’t use your curse technique at all,” Gojo said in a serious tone leading you to look up at your teacher in confusion due to the unexpected change in atmosphere, before sighing since you thought it was common knowledge by now and there was no need for him to remind you.
“You don’t need to tell me that, I can tell that the Kyoto Principal is coming to be watching, right?” you rhetorically asked as you slightly tilted your head to the side, “you don’t have to worry about anything, I ain’t that stupid, besides...the Kyoto students from what I’ve seen are real drags,”
                                              ꕥ
‘I swear I feel like using a curse spell right now’
At this current moment in time, you were in a somewhat difficult situation as you were rapidly zooming past the forest trees that were surrounding you while continuously avoided the arrows that were coming towards your way as some flew right past you while others struck the tree trucks that were somewhat protecting you from them, leaving you with the job to find an escape route since you were still trying to find clues of the mole that Gojo mentioned to you before the Exchange Event started as well as the second-grade curse that was needed to be exorcised to end the first day of the two-day event.
Shifting your eyes to the side, you noticed Fushiguro running in the same direction as you as he needed to keep up with you to make sure that you were safe and there was a way to help you avoid attacking your opponent right now since that was a new rule implemented to keep the game fair. However, with the abandonment of the use of your curse technique, Fushiguro needed to make sure he could defend you and have your back right now.
Quickly, you turned your head back to face forwards to ensure that you didn’t bump into anything or tripped up anywhere since you still had no idea where you were heading right now. From what you could recall, the area that was mapped out to the event’s arena was quite vast and it was getting somewhat difficult for you to sense everyone’s cursed energy since they were all now scattered in different directions with different distances leading your sense on them to become disorganised around you causing some difficulty to sense the curse you needed to locate for.
During this train of thought, Fushiguro couldn’t help but notice a few odd but small objects flowing through the air in front of both of you and him, causing the erratic-haired sorcerer to slightly tense up since he wasn’t sure what they were but also knew he couldn’t act too careless right now since it could be a trap that was set by the Kyoto side. However, as you both continued to sprint forward, those same small objects gilded right past between both of you and Fushiguro causing him to able to identify what they were.
‘Flower petals?’ Fushiguro thought before noticing how a few more pink petals would flow between you and him causing the shikigami user to look at you in confusion (since it was summer meaning there was no way they were just in bloom) as a few more of them gracefully fluttered past you which lead Fushiguro to slowly remember something, yet it was blurry in his mind right now. However, before his mind could even process anything to clear up the blurry image, you swiftly raised your arm to unexpectedly grab a few of the pink petals causing him to snap out of his daze before you left him more perplexed about what you were planning.
“Gojo, what are you going to do?” Fushiguro questioned, as he slyly noticed how your grip on the petals began to tighten before a small smile graced itself upon your face.
“Right now, let’s just say I ain’t planning to follow the rules if he keeps attacking me!” you answered back in a loud tone causing the grade-two sorcerer to glance at you with widened eyes as he wanted to halt you from what you were organising to do. Although, it seemed like it was too late since your hand opened slowly to release the pink flower petals back into the air before you took hold of his sleeve to pull him further so you both can take a long distance away from the same petals right now.
Suddenly, another arrow appeared from the trees as it was making its way towards you both leading you to smirk slightly as you let out of your classmate’s sleeve to take a hold of your katana that was still within its wooden sheathe as you needed to prepare for what was about to commence. 
As the arrow drew closer and closer to you and Fushiguro, it couldn’t help but slightly grazed its sharp metal tip on one of the rosy coloured petals causing a sudden large explosion to commence right above you and Fushiguro while the other petals began to follow due to the first explosion’s residue hitting them as well leading to a row of large explosions to employ to which caused Fushiguro to look at the scene in complete shock before noticing how you were beginning to casually unsheathe your katana from its metal hold.
“You see, if I follow the rules, there is no way of telling them to stay the hell away from me,” you muttered, as you spun around to face the opposite direction before fully swinging your sword sideways leading to a crescent wave of cursed energy to speedily manifest as it flew across the whole woods while somewhat clearing the fiery explosion that was already enough to keep Kamo in place for some time leading Fushiguro to inspect the destructive site in complete surprise since he had no idea that you were able to carry out such an attack. However, it seemed like there was no more time to admire your work as you gripped onto his school jacket’s sleeve, once again, as you had already turned back around to continue running to god knows where.
‘Maybe I went a little overboard…’
                                              ꕥ
“What was that?” Nishimiya asked in slight fear, as she peered in the direction on where the unexpected explosions had occurred while noticing how some of the trees were suddenly on fire while others just seemed to be missing leading Kugisaki, Panda and Mechamaru (who were down below on the ground) to look towards the direction where they hear the destruction.
“Woah,” Kugisaki muttered in awe since she had a slight feeling that it was you, who caused the mass destruction just seconds ago.
“Well, it seems like we don’t have to worry about Gojo,” Panda mentioned to his lower classmate before he swiftly got back up on his feet to attack Mechamaru by launching a punch into the robot’s face causing Kugisaki to turn to him in shock since she thought he was still unconscious.
‘Yeah, I don’t have to ever worry about her’ Kugisaki thought confidently before turning towards her opponent with an annoyed look on her face.
                                            ꕥ
“She can do that with flower petals?!” Utahime screamed in shock as she peered at the screen that was now just a pure full screen of static leading her to nearly drop her cup of tea, while Gojo looked at the same screen in slight surprise before he began to giggle while processing to remove his hands that were resting behind his head in amusement of what he had just witnessed from you.
“Awhhh so pretty~” Gojo commented as he clapped his hands like he was applauding you, leading Utahime to turn her gaze towards him in an irritated manner.
‘You love to keep surprising me, don’t you Y/N?’
“And that’s one bird down! Mei-san, is it possible to get another?” Gojo questioned as he peered back to his colleague causing her to giggle slightly as she opened her eyes again.
“Just who did you take in Gojo? You have a good eye if you decided to take her as your daughter, how much did you pay for her?” Mei replied, only for Gojo to look at her with a cheeky smile.
“Nothing, absolutely zero yen! I got her by pure chance, don’t tell me you’re planning to take her away from me, Mei-san?” Gojo jokingly commented back, before turning his sights on the Kyoto Principal, who seemed to be somewhat shocked at the current events that were transpiring on, but managed to maintain his composure leading to the strongest sorcerer to turn back to the other multitude of screens that were in front of him right now, like he was at the cinema watching an action movie.
‘The Kyoto student from what I’ve seen are real drags’
“That’s a bit harsh and violent from those said ‘drags’, don’t you think Y/N?” Gojo muttered under his breath as he waited for another crow to replace the one you had destroyed earlier.
‘At this rate, she won’t be able to track down the mole if Kamo is going to keep attacking her...oh well~ she’s a smart person, she’ll figure it out without even facing them’
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© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost
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lovely-necromancy · 3 years
Text
A Cure for Insomnia CH 1.
This is a reader insert I originally started posting on AO3. I’m cross posting here because I know some of the fandom still lives here.
Quick Disclaimer:
This is a fic I'm writing for my own comfort.
I was inspired by RaeBees (you can check out their works over on Quotev and AO3), and how they characterize the "proxies". Having always seen the characters different than most of the fandom I've interacted with I never really shared my thoughts until now. This work is only placed in the Creepypasta tag so it reaches its demographic. However, I am fully aware of the fact that no main character is considered a Pasta.
It may also appear to lean more Toby X Protag in the beginning but end goal is protag with all three, and Brian and Tim already in a relationship. How I picture it now is a slowburn but Toby and Protag will be in a friends with benefits relationship before either has any feelings, so I think that counts. Some may be confused by the asexual protag tag but it'll be explained in story, as an Ace myself I get frustrated with media that only show one version and say it goes for us all. That being said I don't represent the whole Ace community but I hope to provide a bit more representation for some others out there.
Protag will be depicted as agender, and will have a few tics that stem from their Autism. Again I don't speak for any others with Autism but I hope to provide some representation for those in similar positions.
Tags will be updated as the story progresses. Canon-Typical violence and mental health issues are to be expected if you feel uncomfortable with those aspects I advise you to not engage. This story will also have a lot of NSFW themes and scenes so I highly discourage anyone under the age of 18 from viewing this work. You will get warnings on chapters with NSFW and I will make it skippable as well.
I'm also very nitpicky and gave the main characters birthdays just because it irritates me when it gets mentioned once and you have to do the math or imagine your own conversation when a birthday was too close to a character's.
Tim January 1st, home state Alabama
Toby April 28th, home state Virginia (saw this years ago no clue if it's accurate)
Protag May 13th, home state Virginia
Brian May 23rd, home state Alabama
Connor the service dog July 18th, home state Kentucky
I've referred to Protag as Protag here but in story they're referred to as YN.
Everything felt impossibly dull; your senses, the dark room you're currently in, the noise coming from the fan just to the left of the bed on which you laid. Turning to the window beside your head you stare out into that weird midnight summer sky. More of a gray than a true dark blue night, cast in an orange glow that made the night seem closer to day than it truly was. While the time was just half past twelve, you felt it may have been more accurate to say it was closer to four in the morning.
You're exhausted but that true sort of exhaustion where whatever energy you have left buzzes all around. It consumes your entire being, dances between being deafeningly loud in your ears to giving you twitches in your legs. You'd laid down hours ago thinking you'd be tired enough to sleep once your tics started to spasm in closer intervals, but to no avail were you able to rest. That buzzing preventing you from dreamland. Maybe the hum of your body was right, you didn't really need to sleep, you just wanted it to feel normal.
Knowing the battle had already been lost you push yourself off the bed and grab a pair of shorts off the floor. Slipping them on you contemplate your options for the night. Going into town was out since it was Sunday...well Monday now, but there would be nothing but bars open and you were never one for drinking. And as fun as a drive sounds right now, you feel the buzzing in your bones grow stronger, you need to move. A late night hike should keep you occupied, with it being so quiet and the middle of the night you wouldn't even have to take your headphones to cancel out the sounds of other people, you aren't likely to run into many people tonight.
Deciding on a hike you grab a mask and car keys and make your way to your yellow Kia Soul. A going away present from your parents that they gave you the moment you got your driver's license after your 24th birthday. Having anxiety throughout your life you'd never been in the head space to start driving till later on, and while you still don't enjoy driving you are pretty good at it even with your “late” start. Surfing through radio stations as you let the car warm up you find your latest obsession, it's a conspiracy theory podcast that someone in Kepler managed to blast through the limited air ways of the town. Impressive considering Kepler was in a radio quiet zone and even cell phones couldn't work in the small town, luckily you lived just outside of the zone so you could send texts and call your parents every weekend.
It seemed today's episode was a rerun, Mothman: Murderer, Man, or Myth. It was actually one of your favorites, the paranormal stories tended to be more entertaining than hearing about how a man could murder sixteen people while working as a cop ruining evidence to lead the others off his trail. Humans could be more vial and cruel than any little gray alien from the future or tall Fresno Nightcrawler could ever be. And they weren't as entertaining to hear about, nor were their exploits as impressive. You could always see patterns, either connecting clues first or finding connections no one else saw, it was never hard to tell where a certain case would lead so you'd always end up disappointed in humanity when they overlooked such obvious clues. Though that often led you down a path of deep diving for information to see just how obvious it was, more often than not you'd find that the most logical conclusion was shady public officers. After investigating so many cold cases you're sure if you're ever in trouble you'll never involve the police, in the end they'd probably just ignore you and rule your case closed if anything ever did happen to you.
'I'd haunt them if they did.' You decide and you shift gears and begin driving to the Monongahela National Forest, as the timeline of Mothman sightings and events play out before for your ears.
Instead of going through town and possibly loosing the signal of the show, you drive on the old dirt road that runs along the very edge of the town, partially covered in trees. This over grown road is the main reason Kepler doesn't see many visitors, the second someone makes their way onto it coming off the interstate they floor it until they see civilization. Over the few months you've been here you've nearly been run right off the road by spooked tourists, trying to escape whatever ghouls their wild imaginations created. The only real thing on this road was a mini mart gas station, and even though it was shady as hell the cashier didn't bug you too much when you came in in the dead of night. Plus they had a cat, how could you not stop in and say hi to little ole Magnolia?
Speaking of which you should probably get a drink for your hike, you could already feel your throat drying out. Turning into the parking lot you're happy to see no other cars around, putting your face mask on you make your way inside. As usual the store is dead at this time, and Ronnie is manning the desk. What's unusual is the man also behind the counter, he has dark brown hair that he's tied into a small and low ponytail, thick sideburns frame his face. You immediately take note of the slight imperfections of his face, most would see the slit in his eyebrow as following the current trend or even just a genetic thing, but you can see the slightly off color of a healed scar that starts just above his eyebrow and ends mid eyelid, he has a few smaller discolorations on his crooked nose, you'd guess he's had it broken at least twice.
Briefly taking a glance to his brown eyes before looking away, today is not an eye contact day. Nodding in their directions, the best acknowledgment you can give right now, you make your way to the freezers. From the freezer section you can hear Ronnie “explain” you.
“That's YN, a regular mainly at night though. A bit skittish and rarely ever says more than 'thanks have a nice day'” Even though she's whispering you can hear everything. Including the high octave her voice takes to mimic you, it feels more like mocking.
If being mocked hadn't already put you on edge the eyes boring into you have. The eyes may not be roaming over your body but the icky crawling of your skin sure makes it feel that way. The feeling of being put under a microscope has always made you sick, the stares, the leers and sneers, and the judgment just makes you want to implode on the spot. Cease existence, be swallowed into the abyss. You're about to set yourself into an anxiety attack with all these thoughts.
'Mask, mask, mask' you repeat over and over in your head, it's the only thing you can focus on. You are wearing a mask, there is one thing they can't perceive, the face is the most important for humans to perceive, your mask protects you.
Without looking you pull a water bottle from the cooler. You don't think you like this brand but the sports mouth makes up for it, and you can't focus enough to grab another. As the imaginary spiders crawl their way under your skin and your breath hitches you make your way over to the counter head down, never looking up at the employees beyond the counter. Your vision is blurring in time with the beating of your heart, you can't tell if it's due to nerves or from being up for five days in a row.
“Hey YN, how're you?” Ronnie asks, her tone is different from the past times you've been in. It's higher and has a lilt in it that you'd expect from a teasing friend. But Ronnie isn't a friend and has never spoken to you like this, you hate it. You nod to politely move on with the process, between the crawling of your skin and the buzzing underneath it you feel sick. And you're now very aware of the existence of your eyelids, you try to focus on ignoring that awareness. You need to move.
“Hmm, that's good. Anyway this is Tim! He's just started so go easy on him.” you hear the sound of a hand hitting fabric and assume she's patted Tim's shoulder as she introduced Tim to you. Why was she doing this, what purpose could introducing you two have? You nod again, was anyone going to ring you out?
“Hi, this all?” a deep voice asked, it isn't extremely deep more of a standard baritone that has a slight raspy quality, probably a reformed smoker. You don't smell cigarettes currently so he could've quit after years. Unfortunately despite your efforts to stave them off your blinking tics emerge. Making it difficult to keep your eyes open for longer than a nano second.
Startled and ticcing you look up and catch his eyes, you see pity in them, before casting your glance back to the counter. You can never tell what's worse people seeing you as weird or seeing you as something needing to be fixed. Nodding again, Tim tells you the total; a dollar fifty eight, and you hand him two dollars from your wallet.
Tim doesn't ask if you want the receipt or a bag, he prints out the receipt and hands you your change. The change goes immediately into the cat food fund for Magnolia. She got diagnosed with diabetes about a month ago and having worked in shelters and pet stores you know just how expensive her prescription food is. After folding the receipt into your wallet, Tim gently slides the water bottle over to you.
“Have a good night.” he says it so low and gentle, as if he thinks you'll shatter in front of him. As kind as the gesture seems, you aren't that fragile...or maybe you are if you have to keep repeating 'mask' over and over in your head to ground yourself. With a final nod you turn and make your way to the door, and just as you open it you hear Ronnie call out.
“Awwww, c'mon YN at least say 'Hi' to Tim.” You really don't like how she squeaked out 'hi'.
Taking a deep breath you prepare yourself, you'll show them both you can do this simple task. Even if you can't stop blinking long enough to see straight. Once you've steadied yourself you turn and look at Tim. He's sending you a look that says 'You don't have to' all that's missing is a slow head shake to complete his unease with this “peer pressure”.
But you can do this you can say 'Hi, Tim.' Two words super simple, nothing complex like 'Hi, Tim, nice to meet you.' and so much better than the option of your next meeting saying 'Hi, Tim. Sorry for spazzing out the other night.'. Yup you can do this just breathe, you open your mouth and...and you've forgotten what to say. Looking like a deer in headlights, well at least the tics stopped, you say the first thing that pops in.
“Mask.” You've said it loud and clear both cashiers heard you.
Tim stares with wide eyes and you see Ronnie failing to hide her laughter. Out of all the ways this could've gone this was probably the best outcome for her. The blinking has started up again, this time growing more frequent. You can't even hold your eyes open, to the two cashiers it must look like you're in pain or crying. And while you want to die of embarrassment, crying is a bit of an extreme for you.
So with red face and the inability to see you leave through the door, and try to make your way back to your car. Once in you lock the doors, switch the car on, and rest your head on the steering wheel. Out of every way this stop could've gone, being perceived by a new comer and Ronnie was not what you expected. While this hadn't been the worst five minutes or so of your life, it definitely would be another thing keeping you up at night for the next twenty years.
Calming down in the cool quiet dark of your car your slowly brought back to the world by the beginning of a new episode. This one talking about the Tailypo legend. A favorite story of yours from when you were a kid living on the coast of Virginia. So with yet another deep breath and the wave of nostalgia, you pull out of the parking lot and slowly coast down the old dirt road. Heading yet again for the Monongahela forest.
It's nearly two in the morning when you roll up to see an RV parked by the forgotten entrance of the park. It isn't surprising at all to find an RV out here since the Monongahela Forest is one of the most beautiful parks you've ever been to. You also don't think anything of them being parked by this unused entrance because you use it all the time since finding it accidentally. Figuring they just wanted to camp and be left to their own devices rather than use the RV sites and be bothered with other campers here for the summer.
Climbing out of your car you notice the RV isn't new by any means but it isn't a total rust bucket either, looks like it's been passed around throughout the years. There isn't anything to suggest it's been here a while, nothing left set up outside, must have just gotten into town then. You do happen to notice dog tracks around the sandy dirt you've parked in, good to know they have a dog before you slammed your car door. Closing the door gently behind you so you don't startle a pup and wake up it's owner or owners, you make your way through the woods. No real direction in mind, with no real thought in your head. Just the thought of moving and to keep on moving.
You could walk the same path every time you came through and always find something different. In fact that's exactly what happens, you're almost positive that you've deepened the imprint of the path just from walking through several times a week. Following the same winding path you usually do, climbing over the fallen tree, and through a scattering of blueberry thicket's you find yourself on the edge of one of the forest's many streams. It's your favorite spot in the forest so far, and about as far as you've gotten considering these hikes of yours take place during the dead of night.
The wind picks up and sends a chill through you, taking that as a sign you slide down to sit by the stream. Vans placed to your side as you sink your feet into the cool water. It's peaceful out here, so cool, and quiet, save for the slight noises the stream makes, various bubbling and drips. You try to think on things like your recent move, your job, the embarrassing 'mask' incident, just life in general. But you can't seem to form a single thought, this happens a lot, you've recently been conscious of the fact that you've been running on auto pilot for the past two months, hell a lot longer than that. You think everyone must get like this from time to time, but you think you've always been this way. Keen to dissociating and slipping in and out of existence.
It's quite nice really, except for the times like right now where you'd love to figure out why the silence in your head is so painfully loud. The more you think on it the louder it gets and the stronger the buzzing under your skin feels. And right now the static in your mind has been getting louder and louder for the past few minutes. You feel your head jerk to the right of it's own accord, moving back in place it happens for a second time, and then a third, then jerks up, before jerking a forth time to the right effectively cracking you neck.
“There we go.” you mumble, you can relax a bit as the verbal tic indicates the end of this round of tics.
Sighing you look at the sky...that can't be right. The sky has been painted it's fresh baby blues for the day, but again that can't be right. You just got to the stream, that path is a thirty minute walk meaning it should be just about two thirty in the morning, but the sky suggests it's five or six at the latest. Reaching for your water bottle you find it empty next to you. You didn't fall asleep you know that much, perhaps you did dissociate tonight. Well this hike was disappointing if you knew you were going to dissociate you'd have saved yourself that embarrassment and stayed home. Maybe done some painting or tidied up.
Sighing you push yourself off the ground, collecting you vans you're about to put them on when you notice a figure off in the distance. You freeze out of shock and stare at the figure, it stares back. The figure is about ten yards away, god your near sighted ass should really remember to not leave your glasses in the car when hiking. The figure starts to make it's way to you and after a few steps you realize it hasn't moved from it's spot. Rolling your eyes you ignore the hallucination.
You'd really needed to get sleep last night, today is day six of no sleep and though you haven't had many episodes these past few days, you have a feeling they'll start to get more prominent today. Hopefully tonight you can manage to get some rest, the longer you go without sleep the more realistic the hallucinations become. But for today you're content with the knowledge that it's just shadow like beings that you'll be seeing.
After putting on your shoes you start the thirty minute hike back to your car. You're thankful for the weather in Kepler, nothing like back on the coast. Here you can go for a morning hike through the forest while a gentle breeze passes by and the sun starts to give the area a pleasant warmth. Back on the coast you couldn't run and grab the mail without getting drenched in moisture from either sweat, humidity, or a mixture of both.  The coast sucks, hell Virginia sucks altogether, you're glad to be in Kepler.
“I want to go home, home.” you say out of nowhere.
Before you reach the entrance you hear barking, oh the RV campers must be up. Should you be careful not to scare them, or just walk normally and say 'Good morning' in passing, maybe just nod your head in greeting. Oh and you've stopped just beside the entrance as you got lost in your rambling. You didn't mean to come to a stop here, and as you try to move you notice how silent it's gotten. Did the dog go inside, maybe they've already passed...no it's too quiet for that. No the silence is oppressive like the one you deal with nightly, there's a reason for the silence. The situation's making you feel uneasy, but that could be the sleep deprivation talking.
You're about to brush it off and move when you hear a whispered, “Seriously man, I don't think anyone's out there. Let's get inside.”
There's a noise of agreement before you hear shuffling. Oh no, you zoned out and now you look like a weirdo stalker. Just perfect, maybe if you wait around a little more you'll seem more normal or at least feel normal. Not knowing how long to wait you walk along the tree line for a bit, looking at the ground as you do making sure you won't step on any snakes. In you quest to not step on any snakes you spot something suspiciously off white. It seems purposefully buried under a dead blueberry bush and some fallen branches.
Having listened to too many true crime shows, you know better than to implicate yourself in a murder. Grabbing a stick off the ground you gently brush the foliage away from the supposed corpse. No way, you can't believe your luck, it's an actual fucking skull. An intact skull of a deer! That is so cool, you've only seen taxidermists on TikTok getting so lucky and finding these dudes. Since the jaw bone is connected by tissue it of course isn't with the skull but maybe it's close by? Clearly this got planted or hidden by someone, maybe they were planning on pranking a friend by 'uncovering' a skull later. Oh well, finders keepers and all that, you have way better plans for this guy, hopefully you can find that jaw bone.
You set off searching through the foliage and near by bushes with the branch while holding the skull in your other arm. After searching about three feet around and finding no more bones you decide that this is the only part of the deer's skeleton in this area. A little disappointed but still thrilled with your find, you decide it must be a good time to go back to your car.
Surely you won't look weird now. You a little forager with their treasure in hand. Looks like you'll be busy cleaning, then bleaching, and cleaning these bones today. Is that the order to treat found bones? You aren't sure but you can look into that later. Placing the skull in the trunk so it doesn't roll about and get damaged you make sure it's secure before closing the trunk and getting into your car and locking the doors.
Not once did you notice the pairs of eyes that had been watching you. One watching as you found the deer skull, and the other set seeing you place bones into your car. They kept watching as you fiddled with the radio while the car was starting up. They watched as you pulled out of the sandy dirt lot and drove back down the old road a little faster than before now that you could clearly see.
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tempenensis · 3 years
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Halo! Here's a reddit link to information and research papers about onmyodo consolidated by other people and a link to an overview. Tried to summarize below bits and pieces that may be relevant to jjk (and which I tried to understand to the best of my abilities :P )
I think this will be the last time I write such a long-ass ask again, my apologies
About cursed spirits and mono
Court onmyojis in Heian used divination to find out the cause of things like curses, strange events (kaii), natural disasters, illness, why your dog is barking at a seemingly empty spot (answer: Megumi's divine dog is barking back) and so on. Strange events were referred to as mokke (物怪) or mono no satoshi (もノノサトシ) and believed to be omens of calamity that were caused by mono or "things" which could be anything like the curses of gods or something from the Imperial mausoleums. Furthermore, during the rule of Emperor Kanmu from end of Nara to early Heian, the Ritsuryo system of government began to crumble as imperial rule changed hands and political victims were feared as onryō (怨霊) that caused disease or death to the Emperor's nearest relatives (but not the Emperor himself). The fear of strange phenomena spread through the aristocrats and became commonplace. Onymojis were believed to be able to deal with the curse of mono as well (otherwise it's off to the chopping board for their jobs (and lives) they go, chop chop). And so the Imperial Court funded them to perform quelling rituals and ceremonies to appease gods, clear away damages by insects, pray for harvests and prevent the spread of epidemics (which ironically was exacerbated by the court's overspending and large-scale deforestation but that's another story). For individual cases like the spirits of living persons (ikiryō or ikisudama), or spirits of dead people (akuryō, ryō, onryō, shiryō or bōkon), onmyojis might determine that spiritual energy or evil spirits (mono no ke) was the cause but mikkyō genja (験者) or ritualists were the ones to subdue it by incantations. JJK cursed spirits resemble mono no ke in that they cannot be seen and may harm humans. Whereas jujutsu sorcerers are more like genja ritualists (complete with flashy kamehameha bombs) (and besides being cursed).
Lifespan rituals
The most popular theory for Sukuna's fixation with Megumi has already been covered by this blog owner with additional info on the Ten Divine Treasures. Another theory is that Sukuna could have been aiming for a higher level of enlightenment. Besides the Shinto-Buddhism angle, Onmyodo also has its own set of rituals concerning life and death. Onmyodo is basically a system of divination and techniques that focuses on worldly benefits and has no vision of the world after death. The rituals were instead based on the Chinese beliefs in honmyō (本命), Zokushō (属星) or the realm of the dead (冥界) and by the end of Heian, there were more than forty Onmyodo rituals to pray for the individual health and longevity of aristocrats (commoners: eat the rich 👎). For the terms honmyō and Zokushō, the closest meaning I can give without being too horribly misleading would be the life/destiny that you are born with according to your birth year, zodiac, constellation and so on. The most popular ritual was Taizan Fukun sai (泰山府君祭), which originated around the beginning of the tenth century and was closely associated with Abe no Seimei (yes that guy you keep seeing in anime). Taizan Fukun (泰山府君) is the lord of the eastern peak of Mt. Tai in China, a deity that summons the spirits of the dead and administers the lengthening and shortening of human lifespans. Twelve deities of the realm of the dead including Taizan Fukun were involved in this ritual. It was implemented on every honmyō day, but also as needed for illness, childbirth, natural disasters, and strange events. Media adaptations often depict Abe no Seimei (or other onmyojis) using the ritual for resurrection or reincarnation 😅 e.g. Tokyo Ravens, Shaman King, Onmyoji (2001). I don't think Gege will go for the same cliché trope for Sukuna but it's still interesting to know.
Seimei and Dōman (Gojo and Getou)
Anyone who knows about the folklores of Abe no Seimei 安倍 晴明 would be familiar with his eternal rival, Dōman 道満. Like Gojo who's the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, Seimei was the leading onmyoji specialist of his time. His position as the Kurōdo-dokoro onmyōji (highest-ranking onmyoji), legendary reputation and long lifespan lent to the notion that he had mystical powers due to being born from a human father and a kitsune mother. During Heian, Onmyodo referred to the organization of onmyojis under the control of high-ranking people of the same profession (kinda like the JJK elders) rather than the system of beliefs known today. Onmyōji with official status like Abe no Seimei would be kanjin onmyōji (官人陰陽師) or official onmyōji. Non-official onmyojis would include hōshi onmyōji (法師陰陽師) or priest onmyōji, who had the appearance of Buddhist priests (like how Getou was dressed as a cult leader), and presumably the control of the Onmyōdō did not extend to them. Official onmyōji, under the strict supervision of their superiors, would not have been permitted to have any connection with criminal acts such as curses. Instead, the Heian nobility turned to hoshi-onmyojis like Dōman to lay curses on their political rivals. There were many incidents involving curses within aristocratic society in Seimei’s time, and in a majority of cases the curses were placed by hōshi-onmyōji. Dōman himself had been spotted visiting a noblewoman, Takashina no Mitsuko, who employed hōshi-onmyōji to put a curse on several prominent political figures. Getou: "Let's curse each other... to our hearts' content!"
War onmyojis (and questioning of Gege's probable naming sense)
The Sengoku era treated court onmyojis poorly (ceremonies were expensive to fund). Warrior onmyodo being more practical (divining auspicious days for battle/forming alliances and exorcising evil spirits) became prominent instead. Academies that taught Confucian studies with divination and medicine as part of the curriculum flourished and the most famous was Ashikaga Gakkō (足利学校) (not as modern as Tokyo Jujutsu High though). Like Nanami and co. who became professional sorcerers, many of its students went to the battlefield as diviners and doctors. When peace returned during Tokugawa Ieyasu's rule, a few practitioners thrived by attaching themselves to powerful men. One would be Tenkai (天海) and another Kanshitsu Genkitsu, head of the Ashikaga Gakko. Being Ieyasu's bff, a temple Fushimi Enkoji (伏見円光寺) modeled after Ashikaga was built and Kanshitsu appointed as its head. Ieyasu also sponsored Kanshitsu's Fushimiban (伏見版), a publication project printed with wooden blocks. I'm definitely reaching here for Tengen and Fushiguro but I do wonder if Gege ever chanced upon those names.
🦆A Tail of Many Kamos: 鴨川, 下鴨, 鴨, 加茂, 賀茂 🦆
鴨川 - the Kamo river northeast of the Heian capital (modern Kyoto)
下鴨 - the Shimogamo Shrine (下鴨神社), a Shinto shrine dedicated to the Kamo family of kami
鴨 - the clan associated with the Kamo shrines and the famous poet-priest Kamo no Chōmei (鴨 長明) who witnessed the end of Heian. Also Bucephala albeola.
加茂 - Kamo no matsuri (加茂祭) or Aoi no matsuri (葵祭), an annual festival of Shimogamo Shrine and Kamigamo Shrine and one of the three major festivals in Kyoto, also one of the three big jujutsu clans (加茂家) in JJK. It's funny that Gege would choose a name with the same pronunciation as a real-life historic clan, which brings to the next point.
賀茂 - the formal name of the Shimogamo Shrine (賀茂御祖神社), also a once-prominent Heian Onmyoji family that died out during the Sengoku era. Thereafter, the Tsuchimikado (former Abe clan) took over their hereditary duties of keeping the calendar. Abe no Seimei's teacher was the astrology scholar (tenmon hakase 天文博士) Kamo no Yasunori (賀茂保憲). Could Kenjaku be based on Abe no Seimei as well?
The Musical Exorcist
The rock-n-roll grandpa, Gakuganji, might be based on the lesser known lute-priests called biwa-hoshi (琵琶法師) or zatō (座頭). Their musical style is referred to as heikyoku (平曲), which literally means "heike music". Accompanied by their mōsō-biwa (盲僧琵琶), the often-blind lay priests would chant Buddhist mantras, placate earth deities, perform spirit pacification chinkon (鎮魂) of vengeful spirits including onryō, communicate with the dead (Principal Yaga 😢), purify defilements haraikikyomeru (祓い清め) and border rites kyōkai girei (境界儀礼) that expel malign forces. The thesis "From Heike to Nomori no kagami" suggests that the musical practices and theories of Heike correlate with Yin-Yang principles. Which I will not further expound bcos I haz zero music theory knowledge and also this ask is far too long 😛 Hopefully Gakuganji will not remain blind to the less-than-holy intentions of the jujutsu higher-ups as the story continues.
Hello, lore anon! Thank you for compiling another stellar read!
Aaw, you'll be missed, but it's fine. Just do things and drop by if you feel like it.
Yes, onmyodo has a large influence on Japanese pop culture. Numerous manga takes their inspiration from onmyodo, jjk only one of them. Onmyouji had a very large political influence in the court. They were also a legit government position, literally civil servants back in the day.
The legend of Abe no Seimei and his rival Ashiya Douman is also famous. Abe no Seimei was said to be born from a kitsune (fox spirit) mother and human father, so he is often thought to not be fully human, hence his supernatural ability. I wouldn't be surprised if one of these characters is inspired by either Seimei or Douman; Sukuna, Kenjaku, or Tengen.
Kamo, yes, it seems that Gege actually takes the name of the clan. The fanbook said that Kamo clan arised to influence during the heyday of Heian period, the Golden age of Jujutsu. While it's lesser known, Kamo family is quite a legend too alongside Abe no Seimei in onmyoudou. As you said, Kamo no Tadayuki and his son Kamo no Yasunori has been known to teach Abe no Seimei.
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fairy-rave · 3 years
Text
This has been a lot on my mind recently especially ever since the Dream SMP community has gotten so large. I’m mainly going to ramble about my own experience getting to watch it grow and being part of the OG fans so to speak. Also, this is more of me rambling my thoughts so this would probably be all jumbled or don’t have any real point. It’s fine if you just ignore this post. I just wanted to put my thoughts out as a long time Dream SMP fan. Long post ahead.
I have enjoyed Dream’s content ever since he had first posted his video on tracking PewDiePie’s Minecraft seed. Essentially I subbed to Dream when his channel was at its infancy cause I thought his content was cool and interesting. That was just the beginning though since I saw his channel simply flourish after that. This leads to my interest in his content in general especially since I enjoyed Dream and the Dream Team’s goofy personalities when they were together starting from the X-Ray series. After everything and them getting big I started to try to catch Dream’s streams when I can since I found the Dream Team’s interactions entertaining. Which leads to Dream creating his survival multiplayer server.
Despite what some current dsmp fans say, the server was not necessarily peaceful at the time. People killed each other all the time or destroyed each other property or even killed each other’s pets. Some examples are Ponk killing the original Max the fox because they were getting to his chickens, Dream’s horse Spirit died because of Sapnap (fun fact, Spirit’s leather wasn’t even the original leather because Sapnap was the one who accidentally crafted the real Spirit leather into an item frame), George killed Dream and Sapnap multiple times leading them to kill George because he had too op of items and he killed them a bunch of times, BBH’s pet fish Mr. Squeegy died because of Sapnap, Sapnap’s horse died as a casualty from George stealing it, or even George burning down Ponk’s original tree and slaughtering all of his pet chickens. So you can see how it baffles me when current fans try to bring up the fact that conflict started after Tommy joined or even because of L’Manburg. It was already there from the very beginning.
When Tommy joined I immediately thought he was a hilarious kid. He was spontaneous and I loved his energy. I also found a lot of his antics and interaction with people endearing, especially since he actually reminded me of Grian when I had watched Hermitcraft season 6. Everything after this era was exciting and I always wanted to know what happens next on that server. That was how the original ’lore’ was, just people steaming stuff and random conflict arise. It was fun and entertaining.
Then L’Manburg founded and I immediately fell in love with the country and the story. They were inspired by Hamilton which was one of my most favorite musicals, and they kept making references about it left and right. Essentially, to what is now known as season 1 of Dream SMP was a wonderful journey to watch as my hyperfixation of wanting to know everything was, to put it lightly, a bit of madness on my part. I should mentioned because I had refused to miss anything this led me to watch every single stream or VODs from every POV in their entirety. Also, I wanted to keep track of the timeline as well as share my hyperfixation with an irl friend of mine, thus the All Notable Events playlist was born. I still enjoy keeping track of everything today though it has gotten to the point where I needed to keep a massive spreadsheet about it.
I guess it saddens me that so many newer fans don’t get to experience actually seeing how everything went down. Though I definitely understand it’ll be entirely unreasonable to expect someone to watch over a thousand VODs now which is over a years worth of content now. This leads to roundabout discourse from all sides since a large majority of people would only watch a handful of streams or even limited it to one streamer, or rely on extremely short summaries a lot of time are bias in some way or get 2nd, 3rd, or even 4th hand retellings of certain events. A lot of history gets lost through time or people misremembered how certain events happened. Some things taken out of context or many events get exaggerated or warped from what actually happened. Even watching one POV without watching a different one changes a lot of the story.
Though, that got me thinking. This also reflects how history is recorded or how story passed down from one person to the next. And I think it’s just fascinating how the Dream SMP story is told in this way. A newer viewer would get a much different experience of lore vs a person who has been watching it from the very beginning. A person watching one to three POVs vs a person who watches every POV. One person can argue about one character being ‘in the right’ vs another would argue against that. I think a discussion between c!Tommy and c!Foolish perfectly describes what I mean:
C!Foolish: “It all seems strange, because, just from you know, from hearing from others, you know from learning a little bit, it seems that you’ve been the hero, you’ve been the villain, the conquer, the savior, and even now I still have no idea what exactly you are.”
C!Tommy: “It’s up to you to decide, isn’t?”
It’s pretty much sums up my thought process. Despite everything that has happened on the server, it’s really up to us to decide our thoughts and opinions about a character and their story. I just think that’s a cool way to think about the Dream SMP in general.
But yeah, this is my night time sleep deprived ramble. Don’t take it too seriously.
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romirola · 2 years
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For the fanfic author meme! for Secrets between Friends (as I love what you're doing with it): 2, 8 (no pressure!), 11 and 15! :D
Thank you so much for the ask, friend! And what perfect timing. I'm aiming to post the next chapter either today or tomorrow! Answers are long (because I am me), so I'm putting them below a cut.
2) What scene did you first put down?
I am a very strange type of author who, at least in my creative work, tends to draft the full story in order. I go back to add coherency, among other things, during revisions. However, I often think of/see/hear short bits of scenes that, for one reason or another, pull at my attention, so I'm going to answer this question with the first scene of this story that I saw, even though I didn't yet have the context or the narrative around it. It's from Chapter 6.
Sweetheart took a step forward to make their way to Angel's car, but a rush of dizziness threatened to undo their efforts. "I… I..." they stuttered. "Whoa."
Milo was quick to react, coming to Sweetheart's side and bringing an arm around their waist. "Hey, you okay?"
"F-f-fine," they said, the quiver in their legs matching the quiver in their speech. "I'm… I'm…” They flailed their arms out, as if to steady themselves. “Fine…”
In a flash, Milo caught their arm and ducked under it to press his hip to theirs and to offer them some more balance. As soon as Sweetheart felt the shape of Milo’s body press against theirs, they almost lost their footing completely, their weight slamming into him full force once they knew he was there to catch them.
“Alright,” he soothed, huddling close enough to feel them shake and shiver. “Alright, I got you now.” Milo shifted his weight so that he could keep a better grip on Sweetheart. “Did you slip in the snow, or is something wrong?” The wolf took one look at his mate’s suddenly unfocused eyes and knew that it had to be the latter, but he asked anyway.
“I…” they croaked, trying to find their voice as a wave of dizziness threatened to drag them back to the ground. Sweetheart’s head rested in the crook of Milo’s neck, as if they did not have the strength to hold it upright for one second longer. "I'm… not fine." Despite their best efforts, they could not summon an ability to push away from Milo to stand on their own two feet. It felt like all their energy had been drained out of their body. Their vision blurred and a piercing ring filled their ears. "I think something's wrong." Whatever semblance of composure they had maintained after the accident was completely gone. “I… I don’t feel good,” they slurred pitifully, eyes slipping shut as their legs buckled and a rush of breath left their lungs.
“Sweetheart!” Milo shrieked as they slumped into oblivion. Milo barely let Sweetheart’s limp fall an inch towards the ground, pulling them close and holding them upright as best he could.
8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?
Indeed. As I added in a note, Chapter 1 was adapted from my own experience and conversation with a friend. And little bits of myself and people I know always end up fleshing out characters and events featured in fics (and all writing, tbh.) In this particular story, Asher is... quite competitive... when playing Monopoly. For better or worse, I've got my own competitive streak, though I do NOT think I'm as bad as Asher.
11: What do you like best about this fic?
I like that I got the chance to imagine and to explore the dynamics between character who have little or no interaction in the audios. It was so fun to think about how each character might react to, admire, tease, or support those they don't necessarily always spend time with. I also got to write a few of the same scenes from different POVs in the latter half of the story, so we'd get the chance to see everyone's reactions to the accident, which was new for me and cool to try out.
15: What did you learn from writing this fic?
As far as writing technique goes, I learned that have an ensemble of eight characters can be difficult to juggle in one story. I really wanted to make sure that all eight characters contribute something and take center stage equally, and that proved to be more difficult than I expected. Hopefully, I worked it out but only time will tell as I posted the rest of it! On a more conceptual level, I guess I learned (or at least reflected on) that sometimes letting people in your life means sharing with them the secrets you'd most like to keep hidden, and that can be a worthwhile, valuable thing.
Thank you so much, @ejunkiet!
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doctorgerth · 3 years
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Hiii!!✨ So glad to see you again!☺ I'd like to ask for Shanks, Mihawk or Barto with prompt 15 (if possible said by him) with the theme "secret admirer", please!😍 Fem reader, and if you see it fitting, could you add a bit of nsfw? Thanks so much!! I hope you enjoy writing it! 💕💕✨
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❥ “Red” - Valentine’s Day Event Scenario [ 1 / 14 ]
❥ prompt: “I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater on Valentine’s Day.”
❥ theme: Secret Admirer 
❥ pairing: Shanks x Fem!Reader
❥ warnings: light nsfw, suggestive themes, dirty talk, modern!au 
❥ word count: 1.6k
❥ a/n: I had all intentions to make this event a super fluffy one but somehow...this very first one ended up a lil more...steamy than romantic? I hope that’s ok. 😳 it’s shanks, I couldn’t help myself. 🥴 thanks for taking part in the event sweetheart, I hope you enjoy! 💕
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   You awoke to the smell of breakfast. 
   The aroma of bacon, cinnamon, and coffee filled your nostrils and, though only gaining consciousness mere seconds ago, your stomach rumbled loudly in hunger. With a deep yawn, you reached your arms high above you and your toes pointed forward as your body stretched to life. You winced a little as you came to realize just how sore you were from last night’s activities.
   A smile stretched across your face as images of your passionate night together clouded your brain. Your relationship with Shanks was still so new, so exciting, and he proved to share the similar delirium in the enthusiastic ways he made love to you last night. He was so eager to please, yet undeniably experienced, and you had ultimately lost count just how many times he had brought you to that blissful peak, just as you had forgotten where your body started and ended as you spent the entire night tangled in his ardor. And yet with each fall, you only climbed back up the mountain, faster than your previous trek, eager for more, just as much as him. The two of you were utterly insatiable, only desiring to proclaim your adoration for each other in every physical sense imaginable. So much so, that you had not tired yourselves out until the early hours of the morning, just as the sun began to peak behind the clouds.
   Looking over at the clock, you snorted. Breakfast at 1:13 PM. Rising out of bed, the chill of the open air made you shiver, so you quickly reached for the nearest item of clothing that was lazily piled on the floor in front of you. As you slid on the shirt, the intoxicating smell of him had you melting into the soft, cotton fabric. If the scent hadn’t given it away, you knew it had to be his sweater in the way it swallowed you, hanging loosely at your thighs. Looking for your panties was no easy feat, and you laughed out loud as your memory offered you a vivid visual of Shanks slingshotting them across the room with a goofy smile on his face. Even in his absence, he always knew how to make you laugh.
   You quietly padded over to the bathroom, and as you passed the mirror, a bright red sticky note caught your attention. You reached for your spare toothbrush, haphazardly squeezed toothpaste across the bristles, and proceeded to brush your teeth as you studied the note.
   My dearest, (Name). I believe you stole something of mine…
   I’ll forgive you this time, if you’ll be my Valentine?
   (It’s my heart, btw)
   - Your Secret Admirer
   You nearly choked on the toothpaste and your cheeks began to ache as you fought back laughter all the while struggling to finish brushing your teeth. As you splashed water on your face, you shook your head as you struggled to compose yourself. Charming, good in bed, and a hopeless romantic -- how did you ever get so lucky?
   You made way to the kitchen with joy in your steps and a bright smile on your face. As you drew closer, you could hear Shanks belting out the lyrics to You’re the Inspiration as he flipped over the bacon, a smile on his lips to match yours. You peeked from behind the corner, shamelessly admiring his exposed torso stretching out from grey sweatpants, along with the subtle red marks that littered the muscles along his toned back.
   “Mornin’!” He piped, once aware of your presence, bringing you out of your thoughts, “Hungry? I hope so. I’ve cooked enough for a village.”
   “Starving.” You grinned, taking a place at the table to munch on some toast. Another flash of red caught your eye. This time, a bouquet of roses. Shanks caught you observing them and shrugged nonchalantly, “Some rando dropped those off.”
   “Hmm.” You stifled a giggle as your fingers delicately toyed with the soft petals.
   Shanks placed a chaste kiss atop your head as he laid out your plate in front of you. His eyes remained on you as he sat down with his own plate and began eating. The two of you shared breakfast in comfortable silence, exchanging loving looks and cheesy smiles as you both devoured your meals, regaining your energies. Shanks’ intense stare never faltered, and you swallowed your food hard, “Do I have food on my face?”
   He snickered, his warm smile giving you those all too familiar butterflies you were sure you’d never get over, “No. It’s not that.”
   “Then what is it?”
   He pursed his lips, a hint of red tinting his cheeks.
   “Tell me!” You pleaded as you were dying to know what could possibly have Prince Charming himself so flustered.
   “It’s just…” His eyes gleamed under the fluorescence of the harsh kitchen light, “I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater on Valentine’s Day.”
   Your entire body lit aflame at his confession. You were convinced you were painted red from head to toe as every inch of you burned, undoubtedly hot to the touch. He couldn’t hold back his pleased smirk at your reaction, all hints of his own previously flushed embarrassment receding once he realized he had you swooning, and you wanted to bury yourself under the table. This man was simply too powerful. Was he even real?
   In an attempt to play it off, you coughed and replied casually, “Oh, is that today?”
   He played along, “It would seem so. Why else would some weirdo be so persistent in giving you flowers today? Plus, I think he might have asked you to be his Valentine. Which, poor guy needs an answer soon, or he’ll be crushed…”
   That ache in your cheeks returned, “Well, did this weirdo give you any clues as to who he is? I can’t exactly say yes to a stranger.”
   Shanks brought his hand up to his face, toying with his facial hair, “Well...he was incredibly handsome. With an impeccable sense of fashion, might I add.”
   You rolled your eyes playfully and rose from your chair, a heavy silence following the echo of worn wood scraping against the tiled floor. Shanks’ eyebrows raised in curiosity as you waltzed over to him, tapping his legs to encourage them closer so you could straddle his lap. Just as your arms snaked around his neck, his wrapped around your waist, hand resting shamelessly against your rear.
   “Well, for a moment I had thought it was you...but it seems I’m mistaken.” You eyed down at him, offering your own teasing smirk, “Not when you are the epitome of fashion disaster.”
   “Hey now! I can clean up when I want. And I got up early to get those flowers for y-!.”
   Your head fell back as you laughed maniacally into the open air, “Aha, so it is you!”
   He grinned and let his head fall against your chest with a dull thud, defeated, “Damnit. Well, you got me, love. What can I say? I’m smitten for ya.”
   You blushed madly yet again, squeaking loudly as he grabbed a fistful of your ass in his large hand, “Agh, Shanks!”
   “Mmm, say it again.” He crooned, locks of red hair tickling you as he reached up to trail his lips along the sensitive skin of your neck.
   Giggles mixed with light moans escaped your lips as you craned your neck to give him better access, “Yes.”
   “Yes what?” He whispered, bewitched by your scent and how incredibly soft your skin felt underneath his admiring lips. Just as his teeth began to graze, hungry to mark you in ways he knew you were crazy for, your words caught him off guard.
   “I’ll be your Valentine.”
   He jerked away quickly, startling the both of you. You were unsure how much time had passed before your words had clicked in his brain, but when it did, the enamored, child-like smile that bloomed on his face had you like putty in his embrace.
   “C’mere.” He pulled you in for a searing kiss; the type that always left you breathless in the aftermath. His firm grip behind your head kept you steady against him, eager lips and tongue dancing with yours, not allowing you to pull away until you were patting him gently, a dire need for air.
   Even as you pulled away, focusing on regaining your breath, Shanks continued to spoil you with his affections. You curled into his chest, allowing him to explore you as he wished, “So...what do you have planned for us today, my not-so-secret-admirer?” Your fingers danced along his heaving bare chest in seductive manners, hoping he had taken notice to the way your thighs clamped desperately around his waist.
   “Well, I was thinking I’d take you out for a night on the town and then a romantic, candlelit dinner. But the way you’re looking at me right now…” He leaned forward, nose swiping yours, lips hovering just above your own, “I’m thinking I’d rather have you right here, giving you what you really want.” He bent his neck slightly to leave a tender kiss along your jaw.
  “However you want.” Followed by your cheek.
   “As many times as you want.” Then at last your lips, tugging on your bottom lip for good measure. His hips bucked up against you, and you could see the visible struggle within him to not take you right there in the chair. But you’d be sure to get the last one in.
   “Then maybe dinner?” You smirked, though entirely breathless from the tension. You were helplessly enchanted by Shanks in the end.
  He paused briefly, eyes flickering up at you mischievously, before crinkling closed with a light breath of laughter.
“Whatever my sweet Valentine wants.”
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If you enjoyed this, please be sure to leave a like, comment, and/or reblog! 💕
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spinosacha · 3 years
Text
Why MCU Loki is a queer character
-Loki and queer parallels -
Tw: queerphobia
Spoilers for the Loki series and infinity war
This is gonna be a long post so strap in non cis het nerds.
This is inspired by a video essay about the queercoding of the joker but this is different because it’s about Loki, it’s not a video essay because that is too much work and yk this is not as good.
youtube
-Canon
So of course the obvious: Loki is canon bi and genderfluid in the mcu as confirmed in the new Loki series. But why did Marvel make Loki canon queer in the first place? Of course in real life people aren’t queer for a specific reason but when Marvel does it it’s been thought about. So what is queer about Loki?
Mythology
Now i’m by no means an expert, this is what i’ve gathered from just living in Denmark and hearing some of the stories plus a bit of extra research.
In the mythology Loki does magic and can shapeshift. He is a trixter and finds sneaky ways to steer conflict as well as solve them. Because he can shapeshift it makes sense that he isn’t what we would consider cis, at one point he turned himself into a female horse and had sex with a male horse and thus gave birth to Odins horse Sleipner. He has given birth several times which says a lot in it self. Also the way he deals with conflict, through magic and trickery rather than direct fight could also be seen as gender nonconforming.
A quick sidetrack about queer acceptance in the old north:
Nordic culture in the viking age allowed for men to have sex with other men and to some degree the same for women although the roman principle applied which basically meant that it was looked down on to be on the recieving end of the sex as that was seen as hummiliating and was even used to humiliate enemies. Sexual identity also wasn’t really a thing in the same way as today but being regarded as feminine as a man wasn’t exactly positive, in one of the norse myths Odin was even teased for practicing magic which was regarded as feminine (not sure if magic in general was considered that or just the type Odin did, if it’s magic in general then this would also apply to Loki naturally), so being a femme man wasn’t the coolest but you can fuck a dude just don’t be a bottom.
Mcu Loki’s story and queer paralels:
But what made many queer people relate to Loki even before he was explicitly stated to be bi or genderfluid?
-Otherness
Loki was the black sheep even before the events of the first Thor movie. Firstly very litteraly he’s black hair stands in contrast to the fellow family members blond and again his personality taken from the mythology as a trickster that avoids direct conflict is very different from the other heroes of asgaard. In the loki series we see him enjoy talking, philosophising, singing and creating bad metaphors for love. We dont really get to see that side of Loki in asgaard where prior to becoming a villain he is quiet and get’s picked on by the others, always in the shadow of Thor who in most ways perfectly captures the ideal Asgaardian hero not to mention that he is the one who is supposed to be king.
Of course when he finds out he’s adopted he feels more other than ever. Not just is he not who he thought he was, not just is he different from everyone else, he is a frost giant, the enemy of the people in asgaard. It has very much the same energy as this moment from Dan Howells coming out video:
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-Rejection
On top of all the other things that makes him an outcast he is also a god of mischief Loki and creates waves in his surroundings that often isn’t t appreciated which also rings familiar to a lot of queer people.
After some time of being overlooked by his father, people expressing direct dislike to him (see lady Sif), standing in the shadow of the golden child Thor and figuring out that he is that creature asgaardians have used to scare their kids at night, he starts feeling unloved and rejected. Sadly something many queer people relate to.
He deals with this by rejecting people back, possibly overcompensating for lack of selfworth by feeling superior and thus we come to his villainy. That he is a villain is just obviously very gay so i could have just stopped it at that really.
Feeling othered, mistreated and rejected after suffering, taking the power back and recieving liberation at last? That is gay baby.
-Power and liberation/isolation and distancing
So. You have decided to take over earth to heal your daddy issues. What now?
Well you might want to reconsider because while distancing yourself from who you were and your home with hate might offer you freedom it might also make you feel even more lonely and unloved.
Loki is tired of feeling unworthy, he wants to be the one doing the rejecting from now on. He resents Thor and Odin because it’s just easier that way. He still loves them but hating them is loving them in a way that doesn’t make him vulnerable so he does that and makes sure to show it.
I personally have a weird relationship with some people that isn’t very accepting. At some point youre just tired of them having that power of rejection over you so you push them away and harden up. I’m not a therapist so i don’t know if that is good enough but none the less running from your past as Loki does get isolating.
But then we get to the loki series:
-Learning to trust and be loved
Friends are nice. To get good friendships though it helps to trust them. That might be hard if you think you are inherently unlovable and don’t like being vulnerable. Also friends restrict your freedom right? No not these ones.
Möbius might be a dick to Loki but he knows Loki and doesnt expect him to be someone he isn’t. He doesnt have an interest in trying to reform him he just wants to understand him to capture Sylvie. This apathy towards him is maybe what allows him to trust Möbius a bit. Sure after Loki leaves Möbius he’s hurt because he starts caring about him but Möbius saw and accepted him from the get go. Similarly with Sylvie he is being seen for possibly the first time and that is maybe what allows Loki to grow.
The Loki series seems to very subtly *cough* be about the journey to true self love and acceptance which is an important part of many queer peoples life which also often revolves finding people who see one for who they truly are. Loki is free now (not litterally though but yk in spirit) but he isn’t alone. And soon he will even return to his home and find more peace with his past.
Then he dies of course but let’s not think about that.
So there you have it, feel free to add to this :)
I didnt really get into comics because that is a lot to cover but there are definitely things to be said about that too
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nerdythebard · 3 years
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#13: Doctor Strange [Marvel]
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By the Eternal Vishanti, I welcome you back!
Today we're making the Sorcerer Supreme of the Marvel Universe-616, Doctor Strange. This spell-slinging master of the mystic arts has been my favourite superhero for quite some time now, and I'm always excited whenever we get something related to him. Now, just a quick note – this build is going to be based on the comic book version of Strange, not the MCU one. We're having real spells and incantations, not some thinly-veiled Clarke's Third Law. #LetMagicBeMagic.
Next Time: The Gods call for us again. The Dragon King blesses us with his presence.
Now then, let's examine what we need to become the mightiest mystic of the Multiverse:
Arcane Artillery: Doctor Strange holds enough mystic knowledge to give Mind Flayers an indigestion. What he doesn't know, he can look up in his Sanctum Sanctorum's library. We need to be prepared to have a spell for almost any situation.
Mystic Fists of Fury: Before opening his Third Eye fully, Strange spent some time in Kamar-Taj under the tutelage of the Ancient One, practising his combat skills in case he was ever in a situation where magic would fail him.
The Old Favourites: Whatever incarnation of the character we encounter, Doctor Strange is almost always certain to have the following items on him: the Eye of Agamotto, the Cloak of Levitation, and occasionally the Book of the Vishanti. After the Last Days of Magic event, Strange found a likeness for weapons like shortswords, staffs, and axes.
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Stephen Strange was an ordinary human, but due to the years of exposure to otherworldly mystic forces, his biology changed to not accept regular human food anymore. This sounds like a good excuse to make him Variant Human. We get a +1 to two abilities of our choice (Intelligence and Constitution), we know how to speak Common and one other language of our choice, we get to pick one skill to be proficient in (Investigation), and we get to pick a feat. The Medic feat gives us a +1 to Wisdom, proficiency with the Medicine skill, and the ability to tend to our party members' wounds on short rests (Medicine check [DC 15], if successful - the player can use the maximum value of their Hit Dice to regain Hit Points).
Although he started as a simple physician, the turning point of Strange's life was his training in Kamar-Taj. He gained skills and knowledge, vast enough to call himself a Sage. From this background, we gain proficiency in Arcana and History, we learn two more languages, and we gain the Researcher feature; when we're to recall a piece of lore, and we don't know it, we usually can figure out where to find the information (be it a library, a temple, or somebody's private collection).
ABILITY SCORES
Intelligence is our primary stat, serving as our casting ability and our pride. Next is Constitution, all casters need to keep it high. We follow that up with Wisdom, lessons of the Ancient One granted us both humility and broadened our horizons.
Dexterity is a little low, but we'll take care of that later. Charisma is next, even after his training was complete Stephen can be a bit of a jerk and refusing to hear anyone but himself. Finally, we'll dump Strength.
CLASS
Assigning a D&D class to Doctor Strange was a very (and I mean very) difficult task. Starting off, I had to disregard his Sorcerer Supreme title, because in D&D sorcerers are born with the ability to wield magic. Strange had to study and practice to get his powers, so that makes him a Wizard. Kamar-Taj is also dedicated to studying the teachings of the Vishanti, a trinity of god-like beings who give the Sorcerer Supreme their powers, so that would make Strange a Cleric. Finally, he also draws powers from deals he made with otherworldly entities (such as Cyttorak, the Faltine, Munnopor, Watoomb, sometimes even Dormammu himself), which screams 'Warlock', except there's no way to incorporate multiple patrons without homebrewing. It wasn't easy, but I am satisfied with what I've created. Hopefully, you'll be, too.
Level 1 - Monk: We start just as Strange started, by honing our body first. Monks get the d8 Hit Dice, [8 + Constitution modifier] initial Hit Points, proficiencies with simple weapons and shortswords, and proficiency in one set of artisan's tools or a musical instrument (I'd go with alchemist's supplies). Our saving throws are Strength and Dexterity, and we get to pick two class skills (Insight and Religion).
Monks start with Unarmoured Defence. When we're not wearing armour, or holding a shield, our AC equals [10 + our Dexterity modifier + our Wisdom modifier]. We also get Martial Arts, which gives our unarmed strikes some more power. We can now use Dexterity instead of Strength for our unarmed strikes attack and damage rolls, we replace our Strength modifier with a d4 for damage of our unarmed strikes, and if we use the unarmed strike (or a monk weapon) on our turn as an Attack, we can use a bonus action to make an extra unarmed strike.
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Level 2 - Monk: We get more mobile with Unarmoured Movement. Our ground speed increases by 10 feet if we're not wearing armour or holding a shield.
We also get access to the Monk's signature feature, the Ki energy. We start with 2 Ki Points, which we can spend on the following abilities:
Flurry of Blows: Spending 1 Ki Point after making an attack, lets us make two unarmed strikes as a bonus action;
Patient Defence: Spending 1 Ki Point lets us take a Dodge action as a bonus action on our turn;
Step of the Wind: Spending 1 Ki Point doubles our jump distance for the turn, and we can take the Dash or Disengage actions as a bonus action.
Level 3 - Wizard: We finally begin our study of spells and arcane arts.
Unfortunately, multiclassing into Wizard does not give us any additional benefits. We do, however, get Arcane Recovery. Once per day, during a short rest, we can choose a number of expended spell slots and refill them. The number must be equal to half of our Wizard level (rounded up), and the recovered spell slots cannot be 6th-level or higher.
Wizards also start with Spellcasting at their 1st level, and they know both cantrips and ritual spells. Our spellcasting ability is Intelligence, but unlike many other casting classes we do not get a full access to our spell list. Instead, we start with six spells in our spellbook and get two more each time we level up. Then, we can only prepare and use [Our Intelligence modifier + our Wizard level] spells at once. Describing all of those spells we pick would make this post over a mile long, and I've made that mistake with Sypha. To not make this a chore for you guys, I decided that from now on whenever I make a Wizard (or, a build where Wizard is a majority), I will simply list the spells we pick without descriptions. Let's be honest, if not here, you'll certainly find those in a different build. Alright, let's begin! First, we get to pick three cantrips:
Fire Bolt
Mage Hand
Minor Illusion
When it comes to our starting spells, let's take these six. Remember, we can only prepare a certain number, and we start with only two 1st-level spell slots.
Alarm
Detect Magic
Fog Cloud (to represent the Mists of Munnopor from the comics)
Shield (of the Seraphim)
Magic Missile (as a stand-in for the Daggers of Daveroth)
Sleep
Level 4 - Wizard: We get to pick our subclass, our Arcane Tradition. For Strange, who can be any combination of Wizard, Cleric, and Warlock, the best choice is to pick Theurgy from 2017 Unearthed Arcana. Theurgists are religious magic-users, who focus more on the arcane research rather than prayer and worship.
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With Divine Inspiration, we get to select a Cleric Domain and a deity we wish to follow. Ask your DM if it's possible for you to worship three gods as a collective, a magical triumvirate. For your own Vishanti I suggest Mystra, Mother of All Magic, Azuth, the Lord of Spells, and Savras, the All-Seeing. For a Wizard, I'd say there's no better choice than Knowledge Domain.
We also get Arcane Initiate, which lets us replace spells we learn as we level up with the cleric spells of our chosen domain. What's cool about that feature is, other wizards cannot copy those spells from our spellbook. If we get all of our chosen domain's spells, we can keep replacing spells we learn with spells from the Cleric spell list.
Finally, we gain the Cleric's unique skill - Channel Divinity - except in our case it becomes Channel Arcana. We start with two effects: Divine Arcana and the effect granted by the chosen domain. Unlike Clerics, we can use the Channel Arcana once per short or long rest.
Divine Arcana lets us use a bonus action to control the flow of magic in the area. The next spell we cast gets a +2 to its attack roll or saving throw DC.
Knowledge of the Ages grants us quick insight into a skill we're not familiar with. For the next 10 minutes, we're proficient with one tool set of our choice or proficient in one skill we choose.
We gain one more 1st-level spell slot, and for this level's two spells let's get Feather Fall, and Command from the domain list.
Level 5 - Wizard: At this level we unlock 2nd-level spell slots, and we can access 2nd-level spells. Let's get Hold Person (for Strange's famous Crimson Bands of Cyttorak) and Icingdeath's Frost from 2021 Unearthed Arcana: Draconic Options (for the Icy Tendrils of Ikthalon).
Level 6 - Wizard: Time for our first Ability Score Improvement! As is the rule of thumb with all Wizards, boosting our Intelligence is a priority. That's what we shall put the 2 points into.
For this level's spells, we get another cantrip (Light), and let's take Locate Object and Mirror Image (to represent the Images of Ikonn).
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Level 7 - Wizard: We unlock 3rd-level spell slots. Let's get Dispel Magic, and we can get Fly to finally get a representation for our Cloak of Levitation.
Level 8 - Wizard: We get our first subclass upgrade. Arcane Acolyte grants us the 1st-level benefits of our chosen domain. For Knowledge domain, it's Blessings of Knowledge; we learn two languages of our choice and get proficiency in two skills... which we pretty much are proficient in already. To not waste a feature, ask your DM if you can double your proficiency bonus for those two skills instead. If you get a 'yes', pick Arcana and Insight.
For this level's spells, let's get Counterspell and Magic Circle.
Level 9 - Wizard: From here, we get access to 4th-level spell slots. Banishment and Dimension Door seems like exactly what we need to keep enemies at bay and have fun with portals.
Level 10 - Wizard: Halfway through the build, and we get an ASI. Let's cap our Intelligence at 20, with those two points.
For this level's spells, let's grab Arcane Eye and turn back a little and get Speak with Dead from our domain list, as it is one of few spells not available to Wizards.
Level 11 - Wizard: We get access to 5th-level spells. With Contact Other Plane and Legend Lore, we become an even bigger magical know-it-all to aid our party.
Level 12 - Wizard: For our subclass upgrade, we get Arcane Priest, which grants us the Knowledge Domain's 6th-level benefit - Channel Divinity: Read Thoughts. One creature within 60 feet of us must make a Wisdom saving throw, or grant us access to its surface thoughts (emotions and active thoughts, no deep secrets or hidden motives) for 1 minute. During that time, we can also use our action to cast the Suggestion spell on the target; they fail their saving throw automatically.
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We also get our final cantrip for this build (Sword Burst), and we get two more 5th-level spells: Planar Binding and Wall of Force.
Level 13 - Wizard: We unlock 6th-level spells. With Globe of Invulnerability and True Seeing, we upgrade our Shield of the Seraphim and give our Eye of Agamotto even more mystic abilities (as it should have had!)
Level 14 - Wizard: Time for another ASI! Let's put one point into Constitution for better HP chance, and one into Dexterity.
Arcane Gate finally gives us a proper yellow sparkly portal thingy, and let's get Chain Lightning for some much needed offensive capabilities.
Level 15 - Wizard: We're getting into 7th-level spells at this level. Mordenkainen's Magnificent Mansion allows us to recreate our very own Sanctum Sanctorum, and with Project Image we can get Strange's Astral Projection.
Level 16 - Wizard: At this level, we get our final subclass upgrade (and we cross the 100 HP mark, yay!). Arcane High Priest grants us the Knowledge Domain's 17th-level benefits. Visions of the Past lets us spend at least 1 minute of meditation to receive information about a specific object we're holding, or our immediate surroundings:
Object Reading - we learn of the object's previous owner. We know how the person came into contact with the object, how they lost it, and a significant even in their life tied to the object.
Area Reading - we see the events that transpired in the specific location (up to 50-foot cube), going back a number of days equal to our Wisdom modifier.
For this level's spells, let's get Plane Shift and Teleport to double-down on Strange's interdimensional travels.
Level 17 - Wizard: Time for 8th-level spells.
Illusory Dragon is a nice nod to the great "Doctor Strange and the Sorcerers Supreme" series (go check it out, it's awesome!), and Maze is another good banishment-type spell to have. Just don't use it on minotaurs.
Level 18 - Wizard: For our final ASI, let's put two points into Dexterity, leaving us unfortunately with an odd number (hopefully, you'll manage to find some ability-increasing item or benefit in your adventure).
For this level's spells, let's grab Power Word: Stun and Demiplane is a good combo to immobilize a foe and send it to the Shadow Realm Mirror Dimension.
Level 19 - Wizard: We unlock the pinnacle of D&D arcane, the 9th-level spells... that is, unless your DM introduces High Magic, which is... whew, a league of its own.
Time Stop and Foresight give us those Time Stone abilities (for all you MCU degenerates. Yes, I know what I said, but Strange was given the Time Stone in his new run, so I did not lie!)
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Level 20 - Wizard: Our capstone is Wizard 18, which gives us the Spell Mastery feature. We get to choose one 1st-level spell and one 2nd-level spell from our spellbook and make them our signature moves; we can now cast them at will, without expending a spell slot. Shield and Hold Person seems like a good choice here.
For our final spells of this build, we cannot go without Astral Projection, and let's get Imprisonment a chance.
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And there we go! Doctor Strange, Master of the Mystic Arts. Let's see what we've created:
First of all, we're the epitome of Wizard, we're a great utility caster and a pretty good support, with Internet-like capability of finding information. We're don't have a lot of damage-dealing abilities, like Sypha did, but remember - Wizards also get spell by finding them in the world and copying them in their spellbook. This here is only what we get automatically. Go and roam the world in search for that Fireball!
We have AC of 14, but with Shield (and later making it pretty much permanent) it can get up to 19, and we have 130 Hit Points on average. Our speed is also a little better, with 40 feet of movement (plus flying thanks to the Fly spell).
Unfortunately, our Charisma and Wisdom are not great, so those saving throws might be difficult. Our Strength is also not the greatest, so we're pretty much forced to fight with magic.
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And that is it! Next time, we return to SMITE for a few builds, as I absorbs information about Fire Emblem: Three Heroes. Also, the game devs just released a teaser for Morgana le Fay, and my first reaction was 'Hexblade Warlock'. Do you agree?
Anyway, hope you enjoyed it and your day is going great. I'll see you next time!
- Nerdy out!
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alwaysmychoices · 3 years
Text
The Memorial
Synopsis: On the day of Danny and Bobby’s funeral, Charlie slowly (and unwillingly) begins to feel the impact of her trauma, and Ethan tries to protect her from her own pain.
Chapter 20 of the “with and without” series
Previous Series: “a weekend with dr. ramsey”
Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x MC (Charlotte “Charlie” Greene)
Words: 5.8k
Rating: T (language)
tw: disassociation, trauma, emotional distress negative self-talk
disclaimer: I used my experiences as inspiration for Charlie’s emotional state. I am not a trained mental health professional and apologize if I misrepresent anything in this chapter.
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That morning, Ethan had no choice but to discharge Charlie from the hospital.
There was no reason to keep her, even after an unusually thorough final exam. Her vitals were normal, and she hadn’t exhibited any concerning side effects from her treatment in days.
Charlotte Greene had survived. She was in the clear now.
For the first few days, Ethan didn’t let himself dream of such a thing. He didn’t want to be disappointed if she took a turn, and he didn’t want to blind himself in his diagnosis and treatment of her. It was only in the last 48 hours that her discharge had become a real and impending event. Truthfully, he could have released her yesterday. The only reason he didn’t was that she experienced a few headaches he wanted to keep an eye on.
But it wasn’t the headaches, not really.
Ethan kept her in the hospital because, deep down, he doubted she was ready to leave.
Charlie seemed fine – sometimes, on a good day, even normal. But there was a haunting in her gaze, a lingering ghost in every movement. Something unresolved and untouched hid in every interaction.
The truth was that they neglected her psychological healing, placing all of their emphasis on her physical improvement. Each of her loved ones denied this to themselves, of course. They showered her with support and affection, and when she had those moments where she seemed lost in something, they stayed with her until she found her way back.
But they hadn’t touched the root of it.
They hadn’t had the courage, nor the stamina.
They didn’t know if they avoided it for themselves or for her. The free days – the one where she wasn’t thinking about her tragedy – were the best. She was a model victim, full of energy and strength. She made jokes from the confines of her hospital bed and offered warm smiles to comfort her loved ones.
Her parents left Boston confident that their daughter would make it through. Even when her father harbored doubts, he looked to Ethan to protect her.
But Ethan knew.
Somewhere, deep down, he knew.
He observed as if surveying her for cracks in the façade.
Even now, as Charlie collected her things from the hospital room in preparation to leave, he studied her. She seemed happy. She felt happy, but Ethan wasn’t sure if she was.
“You’re pouting,” Charlie commented playfully as she picked up her jeans and started to shimmy into them. Sienna had been kind enough to bring her a fresh set of clothes from the apartment so that Charlie didn’t have to leave in the scrubs she wore when disaster struck. Sienna had been more than happy to do it. It gave her a sense of power, that she could do something for Charlie after feeling powerless during her suffering.
“I don’t pout,” Ethan murmured, taking a seat in the free chair. He was, of course, still pouting.
“Well, I’m happy,” Charlie commented as she continued dressing, “I’m finally free, and I’m counting down the hours until I can finally take a shower in my own shower. I never thought I would miss water pressure this much.”
Charlie had a whole list like this – full of tiny luxuries and familiar habits that she missed. Some of them she already had plans to satisfy, like the shower and her coffee maker. Some were more abstract, like dinners with her friends and hearing Sienna hum during their morning routine. There was one she wouldn’t take a “no” on, which was that she intended to spend the night in Ethan’s bed no matter what happened today.
Right now, the world was full of possibilities, and after so long, she could finally reach for them again.
Ethan felt guilty for what he would say next, but he was also confident it had to be said.
“Will you be attending the memorial today?”
He watched the crack in her sunny day take shape and splinter her soft smile.
Charlie froze, and a cold, cold realization washed over her. It froze everything it touched until it reached her bones. Nothing was safe from its icy grasp.
It was a warm room, Charlie knew it was. And so, she pretended she wasn’t cold, even if her teeth felt like chattering.
“Is that today?”
Charlie knew it was today, but she asked just to be sure.
“Yes, at 3:30 pm.”
Charlie nodded, instinctively rubbing her arm as she tried to channel the warmth and happiness she felt only moments ago. It was coming back – so very, very slowly.
“You don’t have to go, you know,” Ethan ventured carefully.
As he expected, Charlie’s eyes shot to him with an expression that could only be described as surprise and disgust. She had to go. Those men died for her!
They…
They died for her.
Charlie felt knocked back, and afraid Ethan would see it, she shook her head and turned her gaze to her jeans as she buttoned the top.
“I have to go, Ethan.”
“No, you don’t.”
They’d had this conversation last night, and even if Ethan knew he would lose, it felt imperative to try.
“Ethan.”
“Rafael Aveiro isn’t going.”
“Because he wasn’t medically cleared to go. That’s not the same.”
“Everyone would understand, Charlie.”
“I wouldn’t understand, Ethan,” Charlie insisted, “I have to go, for me.”
Ethan knew this was a terrible idea. He wasn’t sure why or specifically what would happen, but he knew Charlotte Greene should never step foot inside that memorial.
But there wasn’t much he could do. He knew Charlie very well, and if she intended to go, there was nothing he could do to stop her. Even if he demanded she avoid it and threw up barriers, she would overcome each obstacle with a vengeance. She was a stubborn woman with conviction, a damning combination.
All he could really do was make sure she didn’t do it alone.
“Alright,” Ethan conceded, earning a look of shock from his girlfriend, “Go home. Get some rest. I’ll come by to pick you up.”
Charlie squirmed, surprised by how easily he’d given up the fight. It gave her a moment of pause, and at that moment, she wondered if she was making the right decision. But then the thought faded, and her certainty returned.
She owed it to Bobby and Danny…
“Do you want a ride home?” Ethan offered, still a bit nervous about letting her out of his sight today, “I have time to take you, if you want.”
He’s scared, she realized quietly.
It was startling to see, though the sight was not unfamiliar.
Seeing fear now felt wrong. This was their happy ending, wasn’t it?
Charlie crossed the room to reach her boyfriend, who watched her in silence. When she studied him, she noted the exhaustion and the concern etched into his handsome face. Between his eyebrows, a firm wrinkle of unease sat. She gently smoothed it with her thumb and hoped that was enough to settle it. Ethan recognized her attempt at assurance and comfort, but he didn’t feel like he deserved them.
He was supposed to take care of her, not the other way around.
But really, they needed it equally.
They were two shattered people fumbling to put themselves back together.
“I’ve missed walking,” Charlie politely refused his offer. Ethan wasn’t terribly surprised she did.
“You have my number if you need me,” Ethan reminded her, and something warm settled in her heart, a break from the bone-chilling sadness.
She loved him so, so much.
“I’ll be fine, Ethan,” Charlie said with the upmost confidence.
Ethan raised a questioning eyebrow.
“I will be!” Charlie insisted.
“It’s okay if you’re not,” Ethan declined to confirm her assertion. He couldn’t in good conscience assure her when he didn’t believe her.
Charlie wished he would anyway.
She made a show of rolling her eyes like she was amused with his overconcern. Ethan wasn’t impressed with the display.
It didn’t take long for Charlie to finish dressing and collect her things. When she was done, there was nothing left to keep her in this hospital.
They hesitated at the door and watched one another to see who would make the first move to leave.
Instead, Ethan kissed Charlie softly, whispering, “Goodbye, Charlie.”
She smiled into his lips, “I can’t wait to kiss you somewhere outside of this hospital.”
Ethan grinned. He felt a profound sense of relief that she would make it out of this building. His wonderful Charlie could do anything with this independence. She would continue to exist, even out of his line of sight. She was no longer a fixture in this hospital, nor a victim to gawk at during rounds.
She was free.
They were both free.
Ethan wasn’t sure what came over him. It could only be explained as an instinct to run. He was sure they had to. He was convinced that they were up against a tragic, impending disaster and that they needed to leave while they still had time.
“Why don’t we run away?” Ethan asked.
“What?” Charlie laughed, but the severity of his expression made her smile falter.
“I’m serious. Let’s run away, right now.”
“You’re at work,” Charlie cautioned with confusion.
“So? I doubt anyone would begrudge our departure after everything we’ve been through,” Ethan decided, “We’ll just go somewhere – anywhere you want – and come back whenever the hell we want to.”
Ethan wanted Charlie to say yes more than he’d wanted anything. He wanted this more than he wanted her to say yes to his offer at a relationship all those months ago. Really, he didn’t just want it. He needed it. It felt like the only way to quell his growing anxiety and avoid pain and tragedy. It was the only way to protect her.
But Charlie wasn’t the kind to run away.
She was the kind to try, even if it broke her.
It was one of the reasons Ethan loved her, but it was also one of the reasons she scared the hell out of him.
Placing a comforting hand on his cheek, Charlie kissed her nervous boyfriend softly and told him, “I’ll see you in a few hours, okay?”
She never gave an explicit answer to his offer, but her aversion was answer enough to disappoint Ethan.
“Okay,” Ethan conceded weakly, kissing her forehead one last time.
When she walked away, Ethan wondered if he was worrying all for nothing.
She looked strong. She looked healthy. She even looked happy.
But something told him that she wasn’t, and against his best wishes, he trusted it.
Charlie left Edenbrook to a relieved fanfare. Everyone wished her well and showered her in comfort and adoration. A few of the nurses who had stayed with her this week took turns giving her goodbye hugs. When they held her, a quiet thought wondered if they just wished they could hug Danny. A pair of rowdy interns cheered when she walked by, but Zaid silenced them with a glare. Sienna paused her rounds just to give Charlie a big, tight hug.
It was a powerful and cheerful time.
But then she was at the front door of Edenbrook, and Charlie hesitated.
She felt almost contained to Edenbrook, like something would break if she exited.
It was an irrational fear, of course. That’s what she told herself when she finally made that first step on the sidewalk.
They never made it out.
Charlie felt the air get knocked out of her chest at the mere thought.
But that was ridiculous. It was a thought – and an intrusive one at that.
She wouldn’t let it stop her.
What makes you so deserving to get out?
Charlie gritted her teeth and fought the thoughts as she took another step.
They didn’t stop, though. At every block, there was something new – some horrific image in her mind, some intrusive thought, or some terrible memory.
She heard it in the voices of strangers on the street, but every time she looked over at them, they hadn’t really said a thing. They observed her wild, scared expression with a sense of concern and avoidance. More than one stranger took a few steps away when she looked at them.
They weren’t talking to her. Charlie knew that.
Still… little snippets of their conversations twisted into dark, terrible words.
“They deserved life more, you bitch.”
“You only lived because you’re a coward.”
“Would you have even saved them, if you could? Or are you too selfish?”
Even the beep of a cell phone brought her back to the horrible, irregular beep of Raf’s heartbeat monitor that night.
It followed her.
It was everywhere.
The anxiety started in her chest, but it spread through her body like an infection.
Like the infection that should have killed her.
Charlie fought it. She rebelled against the thoughts and battled the improbability of the dreadful words. She went in and out of panic in a series of disorienting flashes.
She didn’t always know where she was.
Once, she looked around the group surrounding her as they walked the crosswalk, and she wondered how she got here. Where had she been? Where was she going?
Then, it came back. She remembered again, and she pretended she never forgot.
Somehow, she made it home.
She was relieved to see her building. Quietly, she recognized that it was a miracle she navigated so well when her grip on reality felt fragile. But she pretended that nothing was wrong. Of course, she got home. She was normal, after all. Those were just bad thoughts and bad moments. It didn’t have to mean anything.
Then she realized she was just staring at her building.
She made no moves to go inside. She didn’t even fish her keys out of her purse.
Something in there was a threat, and she couldn’t go home yet.
She started walking away with no real plan. First, she thought she would just stop at a nearby coffee shop, drink an espresso, and then go back to normal. But she walked past the coffee shop and kept walking. She wasn’t sure where she was going.
A mile later, she finally decided.
Half an hour later, Charlie knocked at Rafael’s front door. Within seconds, Rafael’s grandmother opened the door with overwhelming exuberance. Charlie hardly had a moment to process Juliana at all before she was pulled into a big, tight hug.
The affection, if just for the moment, knocked Charlie out of her fog.
Juliana ushered Charlie inside with offers of drinks and snacks.
“Oh, thank you, but this is all too much,” Charlie insisted.
“Nonsense!” Juliana exclaimed, pushing a plate in Charlie’s direction, “You saved my beautiful boy. Nothing is too much for you!”
“Your beautiful boy saved me,” Charlie asserted with a bit of guilt. She wasn’t a hero. She didn’t deserve all of this.
A gentle creak of a door alerted Charlie to Rafael’s presence, and he sheepishly corrected, “We saved each other.”
When Charlie looked in his direction to greet him, Rafael knew.
Something was wrong.
He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something in her eyes was amiss, even pained.
Charlie finally caved and accepted a dessert. Juliana, however, wasn’t satisfied and began packing her a tin of goodies to take home.
While she was a few feet away, Rafael took a few tentative steps towards his friend.
“How are you?” Charlie asked when he was close enough.
Rafael shrugged, “I can make it up the stairs without wheezing, which is an improvement.”
Charlie nodded slowly, “And Sora?”
“Definitely over,” Rafael confirmed, “But I think it’s for the best. You and Ethan?”
Charlie thought back to their night in quarantine, when Rafael implored her to tell Ethan how she felt. She was happy to have taken his advice.
“I told him I loved him. He told me he loved me, too. Naturally, I cried,” Charlie smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “I don’t think he believed me until the next day, though. Something about deathbed confessions not being as meaningful.”
“At least it worked out for one of us,” Rafael smiled playfully.
He was watching Charlie, though. She realized it during a pause in their conversation. She felt studied, and she wondered what he saw.
Whatever he interpreted couldn’t have been good because, after a beat, he asked her to join him on his walk. Just as Ethan had hours before, Rafael regarded Charlie with concern.
Charlie accepted.
They navigated Rafael’s neighborhood largely in silence. The silence invited the fog back, and by the time they reached the park, Charlie felt like she was fighting against wet sand to keep moving. She was almost as exhausted as Rafael as they collapsed into a nearby bench.
Charlie felt like Rafael was the only person in the world who might understand what she couldn’t yet put a name to. But given the opportunity, she was too afraid to ask. If she asked, it would be real, and she wasn’t ready for it to be real.
“I never asked how you were,” Rafael said pointedly.
“Are you asking now?” Charlie asked, looking ahead at the park instead of her friend.
“I am.”
Charlie thought for a moment – maybe too long of a moment, really.
“My reports say I’m perfectly healthy,” Charlie finally answered.
“That’s wasn’t quite what I asked,” Rafael seemed amused like he had expected her to evade him.
Charlie rolled her eyes at his smirk, but it was a show. She just wanted to seem amused, too.
She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came.
He gave her time, allowing the silence to stretch until she finally had the strength.
“Does it stay like this?”
Rafael raised an eyebrow in silent question, and she let the façade slip just enough for him to know what she meant.
Charlie wanted Rafael to tell her that, while he felt what she feels now, it eased over time. Being home helped him become whole again. The thoughts and the panic would subside if she just waited.
But Rafael told her the truth instead.
“Yes,” he admitted, “I feel it every second. Sometimes, I feel like it’s harder at home. I wake up at home with my family and my life. And they… they don’t.”
His words crushed Charlie, and she sank further into the bench.
“Do you feel like it’s everywhere?” her voice was so soft, so scared that it shook Rafael to his core, “Like… if you’re just walking down the street, do you feel like you hear the bad thoughts? The ones that remind you of what happened.”
Rafael looked terrified.
He was, he realized belatedly.
Not just for himself and his trauma but for her and hers.
“Sometimes,” Rafael confirmed, “I feel it mostly in the pain… When my body aches and fails to do easy things, I’m so angry and then… Then, I remember why and what happened – and that Bobby and Danny only felt the pain in the end.”
Charlie grimaced, and she held onto the bench until her fingers turned white, fighting the wave of pain that followed the mental image. She looked pale and on the verge of collapse when she finally opened her eyes again.
“Don’t go today,” Rafael warned.
“I have to,” Charlie swallowed, “I couldn’t save them… I might as well honor them.”
Rafael didn’t have much of a counterargument, so he didn’t give one. He understood. In a lot of ways, he felt the same about the memorial. He, unlike Charlie, had been saved by his precarious health. He didn’t have to make that choice. He was relieved, even if he felt a twinge of cowardice for not even trying to go.
When Rafael didn’t try to stop her, their conversation fell into a lull.
The silence was nice.
Neither of them expected anything from the other.
They didn’t have to pretend to be okay…
Maybe they should have stayed.
But they didn’t.
Charlie, looking at her watch, realized she was running out of time. When she told Rafael that she had to go, she looked normal again – strong, even. Like she was clothed in armor. Like, maybe, if you squinted, you didn’t have to worry about her.
Rafael wished her well, and she started to leave.
“Wait, Charlie,” Rafael called out before she got too far away.
Charlie stopped, turning to him with an expectant expression.
“Thank you for making it out of that room.”
Her heart stopped, and her eyes watered.
They were supposed to be dead, and her heart burst with how happy she was that he was alive.
“Thank you for making it out, too,” Charlie was sure she had never meant a thank you as strongly as she meant that one.
He smiled softly, and then she left.
This time, when she reached her apartment, she had the courage to step inside.
It was… eerily the same.
Like this apartment was magically immune to all of the pain and trauma.
Something echoed in the halls, something she couldn’t yet touch.
The thoughts were distant though, but… so was everything else.
Charlie tried to put her life back together. She unpacked her things, cleaned her room, and started a pot of coffee. The entire time, she struggled to keep moving. She kept finding little moments of lost time. Alone, they were strange, but together, they were terrifying.
She knew her surroundings, yet something about them felt strange. She knew where she was, what she was doing, and what she was supposed to do next. But the haze…
It surrounded her.
It was everywhere but somehow out of sight.
She never saw it coming, but when she snapped out of it, she realized it had enveloped her.
She was empty, but the thoughts were finally quiet.
She felt nothing, but at least she didn’t feel the torture.
Charlie kept going because Charlie was the kind to always keep going.
When she turned on the shower, she was fighting to stay here, to stay aware. She wanted to stay.
The water was hot, obscenely so. The shock to her system burned more than just her skin. Her mind felt like it was ablaze, and finally, Charlie felt herself again. She didn’t know how much she missed her awareness until it was back. She turned the water hotter to keep feeling it.
Then…
She was back in the hospital – in the burning hot shower after she was released from quarantine. She was alone washing off the sweat and grime of that hospital room. She used shower products that weren’t hers, that didn’t smell or feel like her. She was alive. But who else was?
She was a lone survivor. She was the final girl. She was the lucky one.
Charlie screamed.
No. No, Charlie really screamed.
She was back in her apartment, and she was screaming.
She caught her breath, reaching for slippery tiles to find her balance.
She slid. Or maybe she sat down.
But she was on the shower floor, knees pulled to her chest as she begged for fresh air.
She sat on that shower floor, hoping for a miracle. She put faith in everything.
In the water, that it would wash away her pain.
In the air, that it would allow her to exhale her guilt.
In her body, that it would remember how to stand again.
But gasping through the water, she just felt like she was drowning.
Then…
When it was too much, when it was all too much, it stopped.
Like a warm, protective hug, her brain shielded her.
And then it was over.
What felt like seconds later, there were loud knocks at her front door. They were jarring and set her free from wherever she had been.
Charlie looked around frantically, trying to remember where she was.
The shower was still running, through the water was less hot now.
Everything looked the same, but…
But the sun was lower.
Charlie scrambled for a towel and turned off the shower. She fumbled for her phone on the counter, and her heart sank.
An hour.
She had lost an hour.
The knocking started again, and Charlie didn’t have the time to process what her lost hour meant. Still trying to get her bearings right, Charlie went to the front door and swung it open to find out who the fuck was so insistent about getting inside.
It was… Ethan.
And he was dressed in a suit.
Why was he-?
The memorial.
Ethan watched as her eyes widened in understanding and then panic.
He didn’t know what to think or how to interpret her apparent confusion. She was soaking wet still, as if she had just gotten out of the shower, and her skin was bright red, like it had been burned by the water. She looked…
Confused.
And scared.
Ethan immediately knew that something was wrong.
“Charlie, are you okay?” he broached carefully, taking a step toward her. He wanted to hold her, but she looked fragile…
“Yeah, I just, um… I was just…” Charlie stammered, “What time is it?”
“Three,” Ethan answered.
“What?” Charlie felt a wave of nausea. The memorial was at 3:30.
Ethan surveyed her again, taking in every clue like she was a mystery to be solved.
The wet hair. The confusion. The panic. The inability to explain.
What was it?
How did he help her?
“Charlie, why don’t you know what time it is?” Ethan asked cautiously, placing his hands carefully on either shoulder. She was hot to the touch.
“I, um, I was just in the shower,” Charlie answered. She felt like her mind was sludge, and words were nearly impossible to string together, “I must have zoned out and lost track of time.”
“For how long, Charlotte?”
Charlie dropped her eye contact and shrugged.
He leaned closer, pushing her soaking wet curls out of her face, “Rookie, please. How long?”
Her green eyes were full of fear as she finally admitted, “An hour.”
Ethan’s chest tightened, and he let out a horrified, terrified huff of breath. Instinctively, he pulled her in, tucking her safely in his chest where he knew she was okay.
She told herself she didn’t know why he was doing this. It just a little bit of time – only a little scary. More confusing than anything.
But she fell into his arms like she needed it because she did.
Ethan didn’t care that she got his suit wet.
He only cared that he had her.
“We’re not going today, Charlie,” Ethan decided authoritatively, “We’re not.”
“Ethan!”
“You’re not,” Ethan said more firmly.
“I have to be there!”
“No, no, you don’t,” Ethan pulled away just enough to look at her so she would know how intensely he meant this, “You do not need to go, Charlie. You need to make it through today. I’m not letting you do this to yourself just because you feel some obligation. Charlotte Greene, you owe your survival to no one.”
He knew she didn’t believe him by the way she averted her eyes.
“I have to go,” she insisted forcefully.
“No,” Ethan shook his head, reaching for her hand determinedly, “Come on, let’s get you dressed.”
He started to pull her to her bedroom, but she remained firm.
“Please, Ethan,” she pleaded.
Ethan felt a moment of pause.
The way she looked at him… like she needed this, like she needed him to let her have this.
His heart broke.
His beautiful, wonderful Charlie was in so much pain.
And he caved.
He caved because he wanted to make it go away so, so badly that he was willing to make a thousand mistakes.
He grimaced but consented, “Fine. But we still need to get you dressed.”
Getting dressed, like everything else, was hard.
Charlie struggled against her mental fog, and as a result, she moved slowly. She was frustrated as she tried to push through her shortened routine. Even just putting her hair into a braid felt like a monumental task, and she cursed under her breath.
Why couldn’t she just be okay?!
Ethan stepped in before she could get too irritated. He helped her finish the braid and secured it behind her back. He found her dress hanging on the door and helped her step into it. He hesitated after he finished with the zipper, wondering once more if he should stop her before it was too late.
“I’ll be okay,” Charlie whispered, watching his hesitation in the mirror.
Ethan didn’t believe her.
Instead, he kissed the side of her head and whispered, “I love you, Charlie.”
She smiled – a real one. A tired one, but a real one.
Ethan found her shoes on the bed, and he held her hand for stability as she stepped into her high heels.
Then, she was ready…
And he had to take her.
Ethan didn’t leave her side, not for a single second. Not when they parked at the cemetery and were surrounded by friends and coworkers. Not when people tried to call him over to give their condolences. Not when Charlie’s friends surrounded and showered her in support.
Especially not when Danny and Bobby’s families greeted her and thanked her for all she did to try to save them. Not after, when they stepped away, Charlie collapsed into his side, tears running down her face.
He never left her.
Ethan held her hand the entire time. He didn’t give a shit who saw or what they said.
It was a relief when the service began, and everyone stopped crowding her. They stood in the back, where no one cared when Ethan put his arm around Charlie’s waist to hold her up. It was a lovely service – lighthearted but reverent. There were heartwarming stories and cheerful anecdotes. Bright, shining moments of joy were followed by waves of grief and anger.
When the families stepped up to the podium and began to speak, Charlie absently whispered to Ethan, “I think I’m supposed to speak…”
Ethan thought that was a terrible idea.
But out of respect for her grieving process, he asked, “Do you want to?”
Charlie considered it.
In her pocket, she had a piece of paper where she’d scribbled thoughts last night. It was full of platitudes and grief, even an admission that she couldn’t save them.
She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t say any of it.
She couldn’t even hear it.
“I think I want to go home,” she replied.
Ethan nodded thoughtfully, squeezing her waist reassuringly, “Okay. I’ll tell Naveen, and then we’ll go.”
Charlie nodded weakly and missed his warmth the second he stepped away. A minute later, Ethan returned to guide her back to the parking lot. They slipped away quietly. Only a few people noticed, and they were respectful enough to not say a word.
In the car, Ethan held her hand.
The fog was back and even stronger.
Charlie was silent. At times, she felt like the only thing keeping her connected to reality was Ethan holding her hand.
Ethan took her back to his apartment, where he knew she would be safe and free from well-meaning mourners and friends. He held her in the elevator and regretted letting her go to unlock his front door. Ethan had never been more relieved by Jenner’s love than when he saw Jenner shower his girlfriend with affection, allowing her to crack a small smile.
Ethan left Charlie and Jenner in the living room to change out of his wet jacket.
Alone for the first time since he found Charlie, he drowned in awareness. His Charlie…
He almost cried. He wanted to cry. He wanted to release this. He wanted to go back to the hospital, where he and Charlie slept quietly and smiled from across rooms.
He didn’t want to grieve.
Neither did she.
He had to protect her. He had to save her. And he didn’t know how.
Ethan sat on the corner of his bed, waiting for an epiphany.
Instead, he found Charlie standing in the doorway.
“Are you okay?” Charlie asked quietly.
Ethan shook his head resolutely, “No. Are you?”
Charlie let out a deep, deep breath.
“Not at all.”
Ethan laughed at the honesty. She had been lying to him all day, and hearing the truth was nearly funny when it was so glaringly obvious.
“You should have made me run away with you,” Charlie grumbled, kicking off her shoes as she walked into his room. She fell into his bed like it was the only place she felt safe.
But really, did she even feel safe there?
Ethan placed a comforting hand on her back and drew a soothing pattern with his fingertips,  “We still can.”
Charlie sighed, her eyes closing just a little, “Right now, I just want to stay in this bed.”
“You always liked my bed,” Ethan observed, kissing the top of her head. He kicked off his shoes and then fell back into bed beside her, turning his body to face her.
“It’s because you’re usually in it,” Charlie mused.
Her eyes were closed with Ethan decided to wrap his arms around her, tucking her head safely in his chest. She fit in his arms like he was designed to hold her…
When she looked up at him again, there was something raw hidden in the green of her iris.
“I almost lost you,” she said it like it was a revelation, one she hadn’t let herself think of since that night.
“I think it’s more accurate to say I almost lost you,” Ethan suggested.
“I’m serious, Ethan.”
“So am I.”
Charlie hadn’t allowed those kinds of thoughts or memories to permeate her life. She hadn’t wanted to be sad, but…
They happened.
They were real.
They followed her anyway.
“I woke up, and you weren’t there,” Charlie said, more to herself than to Ethan, “I was relieved. I missed you, but… I didn’t…”
Something was stabbing her.
Something inside. Something sharp and terrible and scary and it was here.
“I didn’t want you to watch me die,” she said in one breath, just to get it the fuck out of her.
She needed it out. She needed all of it out. It was trapped. It was torturing her. It was going to kill her.
She couldn’t breathe.
Or maybe she could…
She panted, trying to just fucking decide.
The fog was gone. The haze left.
And she was there, and she felt it. She felt all of it.
Nothing came to save her from the feeling.
She wanted to scream again, but it came out as a mighty, aching cry. She devolved into uncontrollable, body-shaking sobs.
The cracks in her perfect, sunny day splintered and shattered the illusion. There was nothing to hold on to now… It was just rain.
No, she was wrong.
There was one thing to hold on to.
And she held onto him just as tightly as he held on to her.
Ethan wasn’t going to let go, so Charlie let herself fall.
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That didn’t go where I thought it was going to go, but wow... this may be the saddest chapter I’ve ever written. 
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permanent tag list: 
if you would like to be added/removed/I forgot you, let me know
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topweeklyupdate · 3 years
Text
TØP Weekly Update #142: A Formidable Album (5/21/21)
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So... how 'bout that album release week?
There's so much to cover; the release of nine new songs, the hype that's building for the World's Best Band to return to the stage, and (if we're able to come up for air) the massive speculation of what the future brings for our band.
I'm gonna get right into it, laying out my thoughts regarding this bold new album and covering all the most notable news from the week. I'll be sharing my (mostly) positive opinions about Scaled and Icy under the Read More line; I hope they're the start of a fun conversation with all of y'all who have stuck around through this last year.
Scaled and Icy Review
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First, my general thoughts on the album: It's good! Really good. Do I think it's a no-skip like Vessel or a cohesive piece of art like Trench? Absolutely not! But it's also not the potential misfire that I worried that we might be getting when I first heard "Saturday" (more on that later); I think all of the songs are at least good, and some of them are downright great tracks that hold up with anything else that our band has ever released. It is also indisputably very different, but I think that generally works pretty well. Many of the songs evoke '60s rock or Britpop sounds and structures that you can tell Tyler is still trying to navigate, but I think he does a very solid job at adapting them to suit his strengths- namely his lyricism and knack for melody- rather than change to suit them. Unfortunately, this does result in a bit of square-peg-in-round-hole syndrome at times; most of the rap verses on the album feel like they're here just to fulfill an obligation to fans who would be mad if they weren't here, and most of the songs that use them are the weakest ones in the project.
"Good Day" plays a major role in getting the rest of the album to work as well as it does. Its gradual ramp-up, introducing the sound that will be used throughout the rest of the album. Its playfulness belies its message about how one can project a somewhat false optimism for oneself in the midst of tragedy: the type of dark stuff in a bright package that Tyler is so so good at. It's perhaps not an instant classic, but I am excited to see how it comes across when it's eventually used as a show-opener. 9/10
I've of course already discussed "Shy Away"; an anthemic, inimitably catchy track that I just wish had a bit more going on under the hood. Still going to be so good to hear thousands of voices scream "An 'I LOVE YOU' that isn't words!" someday. 9.5/10
"Choker" definitely took a little bit to grow on me. I think part of that was a bit of disappointment from over-inflated expectations and the environment I was in when I first heard it. With further listens, I fall more and more in love with the melody of the song... well, most of it. Like the rest of this album, the biggest weakness in the song is when Tyler tries to tick the box of having a rap verse; it just feels really out of place, unfinished, and almost amateurish, and it doesn't end the song on the note that it really should. Without it, it'd be one of my favorites on the album; with it, "Choker" is a solid 8.5/10.
Speaking of unfinished-sounding songs really hurt by their rap verse: "The Outside". There's a definite something to the vibe of the song, but that seemingly nonsensical verse is one of the two weakest parts of the entire project for me. The way the song meanders only adds to the feeling that there wasn't as much energy and attention paid to it compared to other parts of the project. It's pretty easily my least favorite track on Scaled and Icy, and the only one I might regularly skip. I've also seen plenty of people saying it's the best song on the album, so please tell me why I'm wrong! 6.5/10
"Saturday", as mentioned above, had me really nervous about this album. Like "Choker", it's grown on me a bit since I first heard it, in part because it fits better with the context of the rest of the album. However, this one really does feel undercooked lyrically and overreliant on the novelty of using a disco-inspired sound that seems to chase trends more than almost any other TØP track. The inclusion of that very sweet audio clip from Jenna boosts the song in some ways, but also adds to the disappointment in others; there are many other songs on this project that would be more worth surrendering time watching Friends. Thankfully, those come next. 7/10
"Never Take It" is fascinating. I never thought I'd hear a Rolling Stones-style song from Tyler Joseph featuring a gd guitar solo of all things, and it actually sounds pretty great. However, I also predict that this song will see some of the greatest critical scrutiny out of all the songs on the album. The lyrics seem to be Tyler's criticism of the media for playing up division in our society, but he's extremely vague when discussing which entities are spreading said division and ultimately recommends that people "educate yourself, but never too much". I'll be honest: maybe it's the fact that it sounds like something my dad would listen to, but it feels like this would get tons of play on Fox News. Since it makes specific reference to the events of last summer, it's hard not to feel like song is at least partially inspired by Tyler's brush with cancellation last year. Maybe I'm reading too deeply into it, but those reservations come from the song's lack of specificity, which is an issue of songwriting more than politics. They hold me back from truly loving a song that still manages to be one of the most exciting the band has ever put out. 8.5/10
"Mulberry Street" seems like the perfect realization of the entire album's intended tone. It is so pleasant, so lush while also simply produced, full of great lyrics, metaphors, and imagery. It really brings the whole project together, even if it's missing That One Line to really move this up to the top tier of the canon. 9.5/10
"Formidable" is the best song on the album and one of two songs I would truly rank in the top tier of the band's canon. Extremely pleasant and brimming with well-crafted lines to make your heart swoon. Jenna (and Rosie) is (are) a lucky gal(s). Or is it about Josh? Who's to say? 10/10
"Bounce Man" is just plain wild. I think Tyler's smuggling someone to Mexico to escape the feds? The playfulness of it all really covers up any frustration I might have with the clarity; it makes it clear that there's not really stakes here, just vibes. 8.5/10
"No Chances" sees the album take a turn that I'm sure the Reddit Clique is going to have an absolute field day with; it and "Redecorate" both sound quite different from the rest of the album and evoke enough elements of Trench to make me think that's it's actually possible that all this 'SAI is Propaganda' stuff might actually have something to it... until I actually pick apart the lyrics, then I'm even more confused. The song has some of the best rapping on the album, though that's not saying much (the feng shui line is a groaner right out the gate) and the gentle pre-chorus is really pleasant. I still haven't made up my mind on whether the chorus is effective or just plain goofy. This one might get worse or better on repeat listens, impossible to say for now. 7.5/10
"Redecorate" rounds out the album by opening with a Clancy quote (Tyler, you bastard), firmly setting this as a coda to Trench more than the album we just listened to. The rest of the song is really storytelling, with Tyler describing a bunch of people who are struggling deeply. The idea of "redecorating" here stands for how they are faced with the option to clean and resort their own spaces and lives or leave that to their loved ones to do after they're gone. By the time it gets to the album's name drop, you begin to wonder how much of this is potential autobiographical of the last year. It's moving stuff, a callback to some of the great strengths of the band's discography. 10/10
If I average those scores all up, this project ranks below almost every album among the Pilots discography on my rating scale, very narrowly edging out Self-Titled. That's still a very solid 8.6. Scaled and Icy is a very good album on first listen. We'll see how I feel about it after having a little more time to sit with it, but I've rambled enough: let's move through the rest of the week's news.
Other News
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Of course, there was a lot else going on this week! To accompany the release of "Saturday", Zane Lowe over at Apple Music dropped an interview with Tyler. As usual, Zane did a pretty solid job of getting to the heart of the craft and the creation process. However, Tyler also wound up skirting a lot of the questions to just talk more about how much he loves being a dad, which makes me happy; if the cost of getting a little less attention and mental energy devoted to the music is that little girl getting all of his attention, that's honestly preferable for me.
The album rollout is not even close to over. Later today, the concert will be streamed live. It's our first real performance that we've gotten from the band since 2019, but the previews that we've seen have completely exceeded any of my expectations, and really anything that we've seen from the band. It appears that they've transformed the entire arena (which I think is the ol' Schott at Ohio State) into a whole TØP world, with different sets laden with Easter eggs and a cast of backup dancers. If the website can hold up to the traffic (and I acknowledge that might be a big ask), this could really live up to Tyler's promise of this being the best livestreamed concert ever.
Oh, and this guy dyed his hair pink.
What a time to be a fan. Catch you all tomorrow.
Power to the local dreamer.
|-/
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spacebunnywrites · 4 years
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Fenk8- Denki Kaminari x Male Reader
After hours of having to rewrite this piece, another half hour of tumblr simply not co-operating, and a few minutes of needing to convince myself that my piece wasn’t trash... I present to you my submission to the BNHA Server Collab. Our prompt was plain and simple, Pen Pals.
Pairing: Kaminari Denki/ Male Reader
Rating: E for Explicit. And C for Crackhead Energy
Kinks: Cyber Sex, Semi-Anonymous Sex, Penpal Sex, Dom!Denki, Daddy Kink, Premature Ejaculation, Cum Eating Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Flexibility, Dumbasses in love
Word Count: 2930
QUICK NOTE BECAUSE I AM A DUMBASS- Paladin is our boy Icyhot... dumbass needed a real Hero name and in a fic I enjoy that is the one he chose. And Flashpoint is our favourite boy Touya Todoroki AKA Dabi. I made him a damn hero because baby deserves it.
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His username had been Fenk8, of which you weren't certain why. The penpal website was known for people seeking out more adult interactions, but you hadn't been looking for that. Not at first, really. Charming messages such as, "Hey sweet thing" and "If we were the alphabet I'd put U and I together" changed that slightly. The message that made you laugh the most had been the U and I joke. Corny pickup lines were the way into your heart. Of course you had to respond with your own corny pickup line, "Did you just shock me, or was it your electric personality?" Of course he freaked out a little at that, which you didn't understand. Fenk8 got a little wiggy when anything mentioning electric personalities was brought up. So you tried to avoid it. But you couldn’t help that he sparked your interest.
>>Hey sweetness. Birthday cake can be any flavour. But birthday cake is a flavour
>>What is up, hot stuff? The opposite of waterfall is firefly.
>>My sugarcube, the oldest person alive was born with an entirely different set of humans around.
>>Technichally… if we made everything legal the crime rate would be zero. I'M JUST SAYING!
>>Woah, sunshine… if we can't see air… can fish see water?
>>Orange is the only colour you can taste. I'm just saying.
Every conversation started with something random. Something that had you scratching your head, or made your eyes go wide because holy fuck he wasn't wrong. It was chaotic, but you loved it. He also tried out different pet names most of the time. Your favourite was Sugarcube. It was cute and different. You loved talking with him, it was like talking to your best friend. Only you didn't know your best friend's name, or what he looked like. Or what he did for a living. But Fenk8 was your best friend, nonetheless. The friend that had the nerve to ask you who put the alphabet in alphabetical order. But still your best friend. Days of talking turned into weeks. Weeks into months. The two of you had yet to share photos of yourselves yet, and that was fine. He sent you pictures of dogs he saw on walks, of beautiful flowers, and occasionally the most beautiful sunrises. He worked strange hours, often all over Tokyo and surrounding cities. But it just meant you never got the same scenery twice. Once he had been in the same area as you, sent photos of the bakery you worked at. He didn’t know you worked there, just sent a picture of a little pastry you had made. Said it reminded him of you. That same day Chargebolt had come in and bought one of your pastries. The two of you were excited for different reasons that  day. Him because he found out that you made pastries, you because your favourite hero had bought something you made and even came up after and said it was delicious. You hadn't told him about that, you did tell him that you had a small obsession with the electric pro hero. Your potential friend(?) didn't need to know that your favourite sleepwear was an oversized t-shirt from the very first line of Chargebolt merch.
>>Hey sweetheart! Saw the cutest little dog today, thought you would love him as much as I did. His name was Chowchan!
>>How was your day??? I hope you didn't work too hard! I've missed talkin' to ya. Sorry I've been so busy, sweetcheeks.
Attached to his messages was a picture of the most obnoxiously fluffy Chowchow curled into a ball at the feet of… holy fuck was that Pro-Hero Dauntless!? Fenk8 got that close to the Number One hero, got a picture of his dog, and it looked like they were having a casual conversation based on the flush covering Dauntless' cheeks and the adorable pikachu bag you knew belonged to Fenk8 sitting beside him. Just what did Fenk8 do for work that he was chummy with a pro!? Reporter? Maybe he was a PR agent? Or a personal assistant? The last two would make a lot of sense, given that he travelled a lot for work.
<<OH MY FUCKING GODS FENK8. YOU GOT SUCH A CUTE PICTURE OF CHOWCHAN! 
<<you even got Dauntless out of his hero gear, sitting still… a god. You're a god.
After a few moments of silence, your phone dinged with another notification.
>>I guess Dauntless is your favourite pro then? Makes sense, he is pretty hot.
<<No? Chargebolt is my favourite. He's been to my bakery a few times, compliments my pastries. Sure, his quirk has a pretty big drawback… but over the years he has really gotten good at controlling his output. Did you see his most recent thwart of a bank robbery!? He got the emergency backups back up and running using his quirk! And when he let himself be the backup generator for the children's hospital last winter…
<<Sorry… rambling. I just… Chargebolt is the best. Some are born for greatness, others have to work for it. He works for it. He said my Lemon Puffs are his favourite, which is good because he inspired them. The popping candy in the dough represents static electricity! I can't believe that Chargebolt likes my sweets… sorry. I'm sure you don't want to talk about pros.
>>Honestly, reading you so passionate is amazing. I can't believe that someone would be so vocally passionate about a hero only in the top fifty. Ground Zero, Dauntless, Flashpoint, Paladin… even Uravity and Froppy. I hear so much about them. But never someone so excited about Chargebolt. 
<<He is an amazing hero. I watched his first Sports Festival… all of his Sports Festivals really. I really love him as a hero. But ue never does press events, not like the top ten. And I work when he does patrols. So I've never interacted with him outside of work… but man what I wouldn't give to meet the man. I'm sure you have a favourite pro?
>>Honestly, I do. Red Riot is one of my favourites. Ever heard him sing Karaoke? I'll have to send you a video I have of it. Guy goes all out. 
<<Red Riot is pretty cool. But Chargebolt will always be my favourite. 
How had you gone off on a full rant about a pro hero? Especially to your internet friend. He was going to think you are such a weirdo now. But apparently he didn't, because he requested a faceless video call for that night. Something about needing to get off, and hoping you would help. Sure, he was a little more smooth than that, but all you cared about was actually getting to see part of Fenk8. You two had only done something similar once, and it had been through text alone. Now you got to attach a voice and a faceless body to Fenk8. You only hoped you still found him sexually attractive after this. What if he was too muscular, like Red Riot. Or covered in deep scarring like Flashpoint. Not that you didn't find them attractive, but with Chargebolt as the man in your fantasies anyone else would pale. He was your number one fantasy, could you really be blamed though? It didn't occur to you that Fenk8 could be a creepy old man, or a murderer or something. Surely the man who seemed chummy with Dauntless couldn't have even an evil bone in his body. Dauntless was too pure to be friends with someone who was genuinely bad.
So when the evening rolled around you found yourself in just an oversized fleece sweater and a pair of black boxer briefs. Your already straining erection begging to be touched as you looked over the thin yet very toned torso before you. Fenk8 was built just like you imagined Chargebolt would be. Lean and just toned enough to show he worked out. You noticed a faint glimmer in his nipples, holy fuck Fenk8 had them pierced! A tiny barbell in each dusky nipple, catching the light just right every time he moved. Below that was a navel piercing, man did he have a lot of piercings apparently. Because he had mentioned his tongue, and webbing in an earlier message you guys had shared.
"Like what you see, Sugarcube?" You could hear the smirk in his words. And the chuckle he made when you whimpered an affirmative was divine. "Why don't you take that sweater off, I had a long day at work and watching my Sugarcube stroke himself would really make my day." The man already stroking himself. A nice thick cock in his hand, nestled nicely beneath a cute nest of blond curls. Faintly you wondered if you would ever get to sit on it, positive that it would be a perfect stretch. Quick to comply you pulled the sweater over your head and let him see your chest in its entirety. A deep blush staining your chest, lower lip pulled between your teeth. Removing your underwear took a little more courage, your member was not as nice to look at as Fenk8's. You would call Fenk8's cock attractive. Thick, long, nicely curved. You would probably call yours cute. It was smaller than his, and looked smaller beneath your curls that were a little darker than the rest of your hair.
"That's a good boy. Now why don't you stroke yourself for Daddy. Let me hear you whine and whimper for my cock to stretch you out." You imagined a wicked smile on his face as he spoke. Eyes locked on the cock in his hands, mouth falling open when you finally noticed the glimmering bits of metal. A three piece bottom ladder, a two piece scrotum ladder, his lorem, a King’s Crown and an Albert. Eight piercings in his dick alone. Was there anywhere he didn't have pierced?! 
"Y-yes, Daddy." Finally spoken as you wrapped a hand daintily around your length and began to softly stroke. A soft whimper ringing out before you could stop it. You had been pent up all day, ever since the message he sent asking for this call. Already your body threatened to betray you and make Fenk8 think you were some pathetic virgin. Which you weren't! And even if you were… it was no one's business.
"F-fuck!" You whined out and tensed as you came. Embarassed that you finished so quickly. But it wasn't entirely your fault. Fenk8 got you so worked up earlier. White ropes splattering your chest and stomach as you tried to hide your face from him while slowly slumping down.
"That was so hot baby. A few strokes and you're already cumming for Daddy. I'm so proud of you for wanting to make me happy. Want your reward, Sugarcube?" His voice was thickened, dripping like honey as he spoke to you. Opening your eyes you saw his hand lazily stroking over his length while the other reached toward the camera to adjust it. Raising it and- HOLY FUCK. Fenk8 is Chargebolt.
"Hey, Sugarcube. Heard you have a favourite pro." His charming smile on full display, the hand that had adjusted the camera shooting you a finger gun. Your eyes went wide and he licked over his lips. That tongue piercing you dreamed of, the one positioned a little off to the left, darting out and teasing you. The blond kept amber eyes locked on your frame while keeping the slight motion of him playing with his dick.
Never once did you think that Chargebolt would be a dominant. Or have a daddy kink. Nor did you think he would ever call you cumming in less than thirty seconds hot. Yet here he was with a straining erection, his plush tip glistening with pre, demanding you call him Daddy. Honestly, you had never been more aroused either. "Ch-char… holy fuck." Your own words stammered and stuck in your throat. The blond chuckling warmly as you seemed awestruck.
"Don't be like that, Sugarcube. Your mouth has better uses. Clean yourself up. Scoop all that cum into your cute little mouth. Show Daddy how badly you want his cum." Instructions you quickly followed. Two fingers sliding through the mess on your belly and bringing it to your waiting mouth. Lewdly moaning to make sure your dream man had the best show in the world. You wanted him to never end this, and if happily eating your own cum was what he wanted… it was what he would get. Your tongue pushing apart your fingers to clean between them before you repeated the action. Another scoop of your own cum dancing on your tongue. Fuck, were you already getting hard again? You supposed that was the best part of cumming so quickly anytime you got into it, you were always ready to go again real soon. Apparently he noticed you growing hard too, because your next instructions followed not long after.
"Sugar cube, you're going to cum directly into your own mouth this time. Lay on your shoulders, and bend those pretty legs over to rest at your head. Use the wall to help support you if you need to. I just wanna watch you get all cute and cum drunk on your own cum. Can you do that for Daddy?” His instructions weren’t hard in theory. But actually maneuvering your body to make it work was actually kind of hard to do. But after a few minutes, and comments from the man about how juicy your ass looked, you managed to get the position perfect. Your tight asshole on display as well, but Chargebolt wasn’t looking for that yet. He wanted you to eat your own cum. Tentatively you began to stroke your length again, at least you would last longer than thirty seconds this time. You hoped so at least. It would be pretty fucking embarassing if you only lasted less than a minute again. You might as well just end the call, move away from Japan, change your name., and start a new life as a Norwegian sheep farmer or something if that happened. Premature ejaculation wasn’t cute, no one would want you if they knew you only lasted a few seconds. Your soft moans filled the air, and you felt something bubbling in your stomach. Only a few strokes in and already you were getting closer by the second. 
“Cum for me, Sugarcube. Open your mouth and cum on that pretty tongue of yours for Daddy. I love how quickly you cum. I can already hear how needy you are. Just like last time, you get so pink when you need to cum. And look at all your precum dripping onto your pretty lips. Perfect lips for wrapping around Daddy’s cock. Cum for Daddy so he can cum too.” Honeyed words low and sultry. If you opened your eyes you would see his hand flying furiously over his length. The blond trying to cum at the same time you did. But he wouldn't get there before you did, already you were spilling down into your waiting mouth. Groaning at the slightly sweet taste blossoming over your tastebuds. Legs collapsing by your head, your body almost falling off the bed as you tried to right yourself again. 
It was amazing the sight you saw. The blond man, basically a twink in his own right, completely debauched. Chest covered in his own spunk, a dazed look on his face, both thumbs sticking up as he blinked a few times as his only response to you asking if he was alright. Did he always overcharge when he came? Was this normal for him? Part of you wanted to try and contact someone to check on him, but the better part of you knew to just give him a few minutes to recover. Grabbing a tissue from your bedside table and cleaning your chest off slowly, keeping an eye on the man filling your laptop screen. Making sure he didn’t like, die or something. Could you die from cumming to hard? Was it possible for his quirk to completely fry his brain? But then you heard him say something other than whey. At least he wasn’t brain dead. That was good.
“Denki. S’my name. Use it… Kaminari Denki.” Words slightly slurred, but clearly understandable. He was giving you open permission to not only use his name… But his given name. Holy fuck. Of course you whispered back your own name. Letting him know he was free to use yours. The two of you had a good connection, and continued this on for a while longer.
BONUS
“So… Denks. Why the ever loving fuck did you choose Fenk8?” It was Kirishima that asked that while you all lounged on your couch. The entire squad knew how you and Danki got together, apparently he never shut up about you in the beginning. Always mentioning the really cool baker guy that made the best sweets. It was actually Bakugou that stole Denki’s phone and made the request for the video call that night. Tired of hearing the electric blond complaining over how awesome you were.“Heh… Funny story. It was supposed to be Denk8, but I misspelt it while signing up and didn’t notice. Cn’t change your username, even if you’re a pro apparently. If you said it out loud it was supposed to sound like my name. The 8 was for my di-” Cut off by a pillow thrown at him by Hanta while Mina died laughing. You even couldn’t help the laughter as you heard what was shouted through the pillow over his mouth. “-CK PIERCINGS! BECAUSE I HAVE ONE FOR EACH INCH OF MY COCK!”
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Humans are Space Orcs “Duct Tape”
I was challenged and the challenge was accepted. Thank you  @cyberstrikebeast​ for the suggestion! Also thanks and credit to @impalalord​ for the original post where the idea was suggested to me, and the original inspiration. 
https://impalalord.tumblr.com/post/187591145361/finds-duct-tape-humans-were-here
The intergalactic technology summit was an annual event, or at least it happened once every agreed cycle. Members of the GA excitedly brought forward their best advances in the past year to share with the convention center. This was the first year that the humans had been invited. Of course, at such short notice the humans had only been able to send a few delegates, who were ordered to ‘pay attention, take notes, and most of all, see if there is anyone who would be willing to let us test it out.
For that reason, Commander Vir of the UNSC accompanied Earth’s representative rocket scientist. At first, the two humans had been a bit wary of each other one being primarily a military man and the other being primarily a rocket scientist. First impressions were a bit deflated as the scientist assumed the big, muscular soldier would be bored, stuffy, and kind of dumb, while the soldier assumed the small, tweed-wearing scientist would be boring, stuffy, and kind of condescending. Of course, upon spending the next ten minutes with each other it turned out that geeks come from all walks of life, and by the time they reached the summit, a friendship was forming.
They stepped through the doors with their badges on and allowed both of their mouths to drop open. It was no secret that humans were not far on the end of the technology spectrum. In fact most of their gear was rudimentary if not laughable to other species like the Vrul or the Runid who used anti gravity systems instead of engines to propel their rockets into the sky. There were entire rows dedicated to the advancement of medical science which made humans look like an automobile chop shop where people go to get sequentially dismembered by rusty saw blades.
The Geek fest that followed would have been laughable for an outsider, but with the two of them it was simply a reason for excitement. They pranced about the convention, the rocket scientist asking dozens of questions in an attempt to understand the technology, while the soldier took every opportunity he could to test the object personally no matter how dangerous it may have been. Generally, together, they made a decent team, and the scientist came to find that the soldier was not, as it originally seemed, and idiot. Any technology involving aviation, despite him being a rocket scientist, was quickly overshadowed by the knowledge of this man, who had operated, fixed and MacGyvered most machines without a comprehensive knowledge of physics.
They were sitting down to lunch as the soldier was explaining, “And that’s why the T-8 doesnt work despite being good on paper simply because of human error. Its counter-intuitive and unless trained out of old habits, the pilot is going to crash it.”
The scientist frowned, “Well alright, but the T-8 system is the perfect model. It works with the least amount of energy drop-off, and can be cooled faster and more efficiently than other systems. Its use would revolutionize space flight.”
“And I get that obviously, its super awesome in theory, but I’m telling you the T-8 is not compatible to the way that pilots think, especially under stressful situations. The brain sort of goes back to its original programming while the T-8 forces you to do internal calculations, which is the reason that they constantly crash. I flew one once for like ten minutes and wanted to smash my head into wall after using it.”
“Well…. I suppose-”
“Try to automate the thing, and I bet a computer will fly it just fine, but keep out the human component-” At that moment, the scientist opened his mouth to speak when a group of aliens walked up from ne of the isles, a vrul, a rundi, a tesraki, and a finnari.
“Good morning humans, we are pleased to see that you were able to arrive today.”
The scientist squirmed in his seat nervous and out of sorts, but the soldier simply smiled and launched into his greeting with the ease of a born extrovert, “And it’s a pleasure to be here. I have to say that we are beyond impressed at what we have seen today.”
Together the aliens hummed in appreciation, “we are pleased to find that there is something we can do that you humans haven't already mastered.” 
With a wave of his hand the human brushed off the complement returning it, “Please, you give us too much credit. Our science is practically in its infancy in comparison.”
They spoke for a few more minutes before the aliens paused looking at them expectantly. The scientists glanced over at the soldier with a confused expression which was unnervingly returned in equal measure. 
“Well?” The Vrul wondered.
“Well what?” 
“Well, where is your piece of technology. That is what this conference is for after all, to share your inventions with the world.”
Together the human’s hearts dropped into their stomachs and they glanced at each other with wide panicked eyes, “We were supposed to bring an invention?”
“Of course….” The aliens glanced at each other, “Do you no have one.”
“Well I n-”
“Of course we do! Just messing with you, obviously.” The scientist turned to look at the soldier with a panicked expression of warning eyebrows raised almost to his hairline.
“Don’t tell me you forgot about our invention, Dr. I mean it is one of the most important pieces of technology in human history.”  He continued to glower in panic, what was this blabbermouth doing. It was like watching a man stand with a shovel in a hole seven feet deep and insist he wasn’t digging his own grave.
This was going to be the single most embarrassing moment of his career.
The soldier nudged his ribs, “You know, THAT technology.”
He cleared his throat in frustration and nodded, “Oh yes of course….. I’m sorry I just got so….. Excited that I blanked for a moment. Why don’t YOU show them. You are so much better at  these things than me.”
“Er….” The soldier began, “Of course I will. Hold on and let me grab it real quick.” He stood up setting his bag on the table and then began rummaging through it.
The scientist put his head in his hands, unless he had an antimatter core shoved in his bag they were fucked.
The human held up a finger as the aliens looked on expectantly, “Hold on just have to find it first…..” The scientist felt as if he was about to puke. Then the soldier’s eyes lit up, and his face was crossed with a massive grin. “Ah there it is.” The scientist looked on in confusion
The aliens leaned forward as the human stood taller hand still shoved in his bag.
“What I am about to show you may well be one of the most important inventions is the history of humanity, Nay! The history of the galaxy, single handedly responsible for human innovation 
Beyond the warp core, beyond life support and anti gravity, this is the single most important invention to ever grace the field of human scientific knowledge. Its application is endless as a multipurpose tool and is so adaptable it can be used for ANY, and I mean ANY application.”
The aliens sat wide eyed and the scientist leaned forward with bated breath. What could be so grand that the soldier could spin a lie like that and get away with it. He didn't appear to even be breaking a sweat.
“Ladies, gentlemen, and distinguished others, I present to you the….. The multifunctional Universal Unilateral Bonding Strop.” With a theatrical flourish worthy of a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat, the soldier withdrew his arm from the bag and raised his hand high into the air, where light from the ceiling caught and reflected off its shiny silver surface….
“Duct-tape.” The scientist blurted in consternation. Voice cracking with near laughter and disbelief. 
The soldier gave him a warning look and then nodded, “Yes, of course, Dr. More formally known as duct tape.”
The aliens gathered closer in curiosity, “It doesn’t look like much.” One of them pointed out
But the soldier looked at him with an expression of hurt consternation, “I assure you, it's everything I said it is and more, originally invented in 1943 by a Vesta Stoudt, who was trying to find an acceptable replacement for less durable cloth tape. It was originally intended for use in sealing ammunition boxes, but soldiers later determined that this little miracle could fix anything from achinery to boots, to weaponry. I guarantee you wont find a human that doesn't have some.”
He stepped forward proffering the material for closer inspection.
“What is it made from.” One of the aliens wondered.
The soldier paused then stammered, “Well I…. Um its made of.”
“Well it can actually be made of any number of things.” The scientists piped up, “It is very versatile that way. The woven fabric base can be made of anything from cotton to nylon to fiberglass, specifically designed for flexibility. The back was originally coated with waterproof polyurethane and then coated with the adhesive. The same process is generally used though there are many different varieties. The more plastic the adhesive backing, the more water tight and so can be used to stop leakes, repair pipes, seal gaps and any number of other applications. They even make a more durable reflective variety that is heat resistant, so can be utilized at high temperatures.” 
He turned to glance at the soldier who was beaming openly at him, winking his one remaining eye before turning to the aliens.
“You said it can be used in all applications. Explain.”
“Well I am glad you asked.” The soldier began taking a deep breath, “I've personally seen it used to repair shoes, cars, machinery, pipes, clothing. It has the ability to incapacitate a human ...” He paused there to let that sink in, “It is used to make art, and clothing, hold things together, seal packages. In large concentration it is strong enough to hold a grown man off the ground. I’ve seen it used to make a boat, and once, an entire airplane, with additional equipment of course. Pretty sure someone made a cannon using it once, but that could just be a myth.”
“Point is.” Said the scientists, “Humans use this for everything, and though it is an old invention it is one that deserves to be shared across the galaxy.”
The Vrul crossed his arms, “That is a big claim to make for such an object.”
“Yes.” A Tesraki piped in, “You sell well, but business is business. If the product isn’t up to scratch than how can we trust it.”
“We must have a demonstration.”
The human grinned in response, “Well, I am glad you asked.” He held the roll of tape up picking at the edge with a fingernail before withdrawing a long strip. The sound it made was a satisfying sccriiiitch and then tear as he pulled a piece off sliding the roll over his hand to hold it on his wrist. He held the two ends between his fingers and flexed the strip between his fingers, “See completely and entirely flexible.  
One of the aliens frowned, “I thought you said it was supposed to be durable, but you just tore it in half.”
The human frowned, “Well that is one of the great parts of this tape, tear it just right, and anyone can use it, but exposed to pulling or twisting forces it is difficult to break. Let me demonstrate.” He grabbed the piece of tape by either end and then began to wrestle with it. Instead of breaking the tape stretched and strained slowly pulling apart until eventually it snapped causing the human to stagger a bit.
“See now imagine multiple strips all working together.” 
The aliens muttered. The scientist stared on in awe, they were actually coming around. He glanced towards the soldier with a look of disbelief. The bastard had done it, he had actually done it. Sold a 2,000 year old invention as the most important piece of technology in human history.
The soldier was grinning as he tore a few more strips from the tape handing them out, “Here take a pice, try it out for yourself.”
The aliens tentatively did as told and what ensued was an amusing spectacle of aliens confusedly trying to unstick the tape from their fingers, accidentally sticking it to themselves, and then begging for help in getting it off. A Vrul danced around in circle shaking his hand but the tape wouldn’t let go . This little show had drawn a crowd, and others came forward to curiously sample the strange human invention.
Warp reactors, and medical science was ignored in favor of the humans and their single roll of tape.
When they finally got the hang of using the sticky one sided adhesive the aliens suddenly became obsessed with what they could stick together. Chairs were hung upside down to tables, people’s hands were tied together. One of the Vrul was taped to the floor. The front doors to the convention were sealed shut.
Pandemonium ensued as tape was wrapped around anything that seemed even mildly broken.
To everyone’s surprise, a vrul who had recently received an injury to his helium sack, sealed the hole with a piece of tape, and was able to return to floating within a matter of seconds.
Somewhere in there the Commander and the rocket scientist lost sight of the role, only to find a rundi taped to the wall looking slightly beleaguered a few minutes later.
They stood together at the center of the convention floor staring around as aliens stuck things to other things, waved their hands about, and generally turned the center into a house of complete chaos.
The rocket scientist leaned in, “What have you done.”
Wide eyed the soldier turned to look at him with a grimace, “Er….. I have no idea.”
They looked around surveying the carnage made by one role of tape. There was a slight ripping noise and they turned to see the doors finally opening strings of cut tape billowing in the air rushing out onto the street. Drev security walked in accompanied by a Rundi oversee who paused in the doorway in consternation staring at the carnage. 
Aliens everywhere, and two well-behaved humans standing in the middle of it.
He rubbed his eyes and rechecked as if he was seeing things. Generally when something like this happens you would expect to find the humans being destructive, not the other, generally mild species. 
The soldier shrugged raising his hands in a ‘we had nothing to do with this’ sort of gesture. The rundi didn’t seem convinced.  
It took several hours to deal with the aftermath, and it only stopped when a Tesraki returned to the soldier holding the cardboard center of the role looking saddened by it’s loss, “Do you have more.”
The soldier rubbed the back of his head, “Afraid you used my whole role, but I am sure we could come to an agreement about getting you some.” The Tesraki nodded in a subdued sort of way, handed him the used up role and then slunk away. The Rundi overseer glowered at him with  an ‘i knew it’ sort of expression.
Walking out of the convention well into the night after being forced to help clean things up, the scientist looked over at his companion, “That was some serious silver tongue shit back there. How did you do it.”
The soldier simply smiled and shrugged, “Sort of just came to me.”
“If that hadn't worked, we would have been screwed.”
He waved a hand, “Nah, I wasn't worried.”
“Speak for yourself. I was close to pissing myself.
Just then the scientists phone began to ring. He was getting a patched in transmission from his superior back on earth and motioned the soldier to stay quiet. He answer the call and put it on speaker, “Yes sir.”
“I’m just calling to see how the convention went?”
“Uh….. well it went fine considering the circumstances.” The scientist stuttered.
There was a pause over the other end of the line, “What does that mean.”
He shuffled his feet nervously not entirely sure how to say this, “Well, as it turns out that being invited to this thing meant we were expected to bring an invention.”  
He heard shuffling on the other end of the line and some muffled cursing, “Shit, I had no idea. I’m so sorry. How did you handle that mess?”
He scratched the back of his head feeling a smile broke out across his face, “Ur…. well lets just say we should make a note to the UN that, if anyone asks, duct tape is the most important piece of technology ever invented.” 
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Hi! I just started reading your fan-fiction, "Adrenaline Rush" and I have to say it is VERY good. I have a question if you don't mind answering it. I am writing fan-fiction of my own and I have been pushing it off for months because I don't know where to start. For this, what was your writing process? Example: Did you write your plot first or did you write as you went to each chapter?
Hi, anon! Thanks for your very kind note and interest in Adrenaline Rush! The story has its issues/tangles, but it’s definitely been a fun and personally meaningful project for me to try writing. It means a lot to hear that you’re enjoying it! And that’s very exciting that you want to start writing as well. :)
Each writer will be different in terms of their creative process, so a part of your question involves learning more about yourself as a creator too! It’s good to know how your brain likes to work and what environment helps it hum along, which may or may not align with what works for me.
Honestly, AR’s design and development has been haphazard. For me, AR all started because I was unable to attend a nearby drag racing competition in 2018, and those races had been a pretty big staple in my life. At the same time, my head was full of Voltron shenanigans because I’d just recently joined the fandom. I was walking the family puppy when it hit me that Blue Lion, Red Lion, etc. would be good names for Top Fuel machines. I was so excited at the concept of exploring drag racing in a fic. It gave me a “race” to look forward to, along with all the drama and adrenaline that came with it. In that moment, I had enough excitement in my brain to convert the Potential Energy of my idea into the real Kinetic Energy of writing/typing.
If you have the energy but are not sure how to “start” your story, then you might consider what it means to set aside the opening or even the assumed first chapter for now. What scene/image/dialogue in your head do you really want to write right now? What happens if you just…start there, and then work backwards or forwards? Sometimes you have to get a feel for the medium you’re working with before you can really start molding the scenes and imagery into something fully formed. My first “scene” I wrote for AR was definitely not the opening one. The first story lines I wrote involved Lotor smoking a cigarette on a pro stock motorcycle, lol. I built around that image, as well as the image of a determined Allura sitting in Blue Lion, preparing to race. The desire to bring these characters and their racing machines to life really helped me hammer out that first chapter in a blur of a few days, where I puzzle-pieced scenes together. 
Other activities that can help you start a story is to look at how other authors start their stories. For example, do they start with a question, or a conversation, or a description of scenery? Do they start at the very beginning of a plot, or in the middle of action and catch you up on the details later? What kind of opening in other people’s stories most engages you? What happens to your story if you start with one element over another? What kinds of plots and story structures make you feel most engaged when you read them? What happens when you try to emulate those things? (Just questions to munch on here.)
I think it also helps to ask yourself why you want to write this story. Do you just want to explore an aesthetic that makes you feel good? Do you have a deep need to explore a certain kind of character or world? Are you hoping to get a catharsis of some kind? Is it a couple of things at once? Are you wanting to write a massive epic or just a short drabble to convey a moment in time? If you know “why” you are doing something, that can help you to know what kind of scenes to write—and what the story’s goal or vibe should be. Silly plot holes and clunky dialogue and some OOCness can be forgiven, especially in fanfic, which is a labor of love anyway—but if your story radically changes its tune or plot and no longer addresses the “why” that made you so excited in the first place, then that can alienate even you from it. Once you know what you want out of your story, then you can start plotting out all the different ways you could potentially achieve that goal. This feeds directly into the types of scenes that appear in a first chapter.
Before I started writing any actual scenes for AR, I did try to feel out more of the story by writing a promotional blurb. Like, if this were a book jacket or a Goodreads summary, what would that enticing blurb potentially look like? What was this story going to be about, aside from Lotor and Allura being pretty while they race machines, lol? I had some people in a discord who were kind enough to let me “pitch” a blurb at them to see if it would be of interest. This was my original pitch, which isn’t terribly different from the story summary as it appears on AO3 today:
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The discord members were very encouraging, and so that gave me the push I needed to start writing story content, beginning with the images of Lotor smoking on his bike and Allura preparing to qualify. This tactic might not be for everyone just starting out, but writing a short promotional blurb/story summary can help you identify some initial parameters in terms of characters/conflict/setting. Having those basic parameters can then further target the types of images, dialogue, and scenes that make logical sense for introducing your story.  
If you need more structure than just free-form writing or building off an image in your head, you can definitely use an outline to help you identify scenes or images that you’d like to try working on. While AR did not start off with an outline, it does have a plot outline now to help ensure I don’t drop something important. So I started bulleting ideas, trying to stretch out the story summary to its natural/logical end point.
An outline can help you write linearly if clear, concrete structure resonates with your brain. It can give you an opportunity to “preview” how a chapter opening can affect future events before you even write them, if you’re worried about where free-form-writing can take you. If you want to use an outline, it doesn’t even have to be all that elaborate. It can just be bullet points or explanatory sentences, or pieces of dialogue. It can be notes on a poster arranged in a spider web design. It can be a collection of gifs on your computer that signify the emotions you want to simulate in the story—it can be literally anything, and it can evolve too.
Paradoxically, writing an outline has also helped me move away from having to write individual chapters in a linear fashion, which is sometimes hard for me to do over a long course of time. So readers on AO3 might experience AR as a linear story, but I have dozens of pages of future scenes or bits of dialogue that I felt inspired to write over the last few years. Like, one major scene appearing in the most recent chapter 9, which published here in January 2021—it’s been written since July of 2019, lol. Using an outline to tackle a story can empower you to follow your bliss in a nonlinear fashion. For example, sometimes I’m more in a mood to write racing, and other times, I’m more emotionally invested in writing AR’s background drama or romance. If I halfway know where I’m going based on my outline, I can switch gears to write what I immediately want to write, and then I can later sew scenes and dialogue together later in a fairly smooth fashion.The concept of writing a chapter straight from start to finish just doesn’t have to constrain me with this method, and that’s critical for me. I understand having to trudge through writer’s block for a particular scene, but I like to minimize that pain as much as possible. And sometimes moving beyond that point can remove the writer’s block entirely.
Admittedly, the original outline I wrote for AR doesn’t match 1:1 to what’s currently written. As I started actually writing out scenes correlating to those bullet points on my outline, things changed. The space between bullet point 1 and bullet point 2 expanded with additional scenes, and those additions changed the details in the original bullet point 2. So my outline has gone through several tweaks as well.
This is the “organic” slop that can occur between your true written product and your initial assumptions for where the story should go. There are going to be plot milestones that you likely have to hit in order to achieve your end-goal/correct vibe with the story, but it’s totally okay to let your characters have a voice in how they get there. You might start an outline or a story assuming Road Trip A through the city is the best way to get to the end or achieve a certain vibe, but as your characters grow in your head, they might decide for themselves that Road Trip B through the mountains is the best way to the end. Once you set a story in motion, it’s no longer just you driving it. Your characters should drive the story too. Allowing them to do that will keep you emotionally invested and interested in the story. Sometimes, your characters will even write for you if you don’t know what to write. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure I’m in control of AR—I suppose I’m the navigator with a map sitting in the passenger seat, but I know I’m not the one holding the wheel, LOL.
And while we all do hope to create something quality that we’re immensely proud of, I do think it’s important to keep G.K. Chesterton’s thought in mind: “If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing badly.” In other words, the desire to create something immediately perfect with minimal effort can keep you from doing anything at all. It’s better to accept a messy first draft and to know you may have to revise later, than to sit in fear and end up writing nothing. And sometimes, your brain needs physical content to react to before you feel you’ve found the best option. Like, just getting content down to start with can change your whole perspective. You can revise and mold things as you get a better feel for what you want to convey. There’s always draft 2 for structural changes. Or draft 3 or 4 for polishing and getting a satisfying first sentence down. There’s no pressure to crank out a Pulitzer Prize Winner on a first draft or even after you publish something to a fanfic archive. This is fanfic. It’s supposed to be fun, at the end of the day. Let yourself enjoy the process of messy creation. Let your characters help you out. Don’t be afraid to revise or try out a few different things get to the vibe/end you really want. To do is to know.
If you’re still not confident in yourself or your abilities to make a critical design decision, you can always engage a beta reader or have someone listen to your ideas. Talking things out loud or reading your work out loud to yourself can help you process creative decisions in a new way! There’s also a significant difference between typing on a computer or writing things down on paper. Typing on a computer can take away the fear of permanence, while writing things down on paper can slow you down and make you experience each word more fully.
So I guess to wrap all of this up: I have a pretty fluid process, and I’m more worried about not creating at all than I am about screwing it up. Even a screwed-up work can teach you something and help you get somewhere better next time. And if you had fun making it, then maybe it wasn’t a screw-up at all! I really encourage you to soul-search on what gives you joy or excitement regarding this fic idea you have, and to hold on tight to that joy as you begin translating images in your head or outlining plot points, or something in between.
I hope something from this response helps you! <3
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