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arty-shadow-morningstar · 3 years

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Graveyard Siblings (5)

[Masterlink] (PART 1) (PART 4)

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Mari and Cass sometimes switch their suits as they have the same body type. Cass would sometimes go out in full Hellbat gear and give the appearance that Hellbat is out more often than she actually is.

So Orphan/Black Bat also sometimes uses guns.

This also helps with concealing secret identities. Maria was rescued by Hellbat from Joker’s Henchmen. (Vicki Vale was getting sus of the new Wayne and Hellbat.)

Unfortunately since Hellbat rarely comes out and she had already made all of her appearance for the month and it wasn’t a busy weekend, the public had come to the conclusion that Hellbat has a crush on the newest Wayne.

Basically everyone thought that Mari has a crush on herself. Which led to some teasing and escalated to Mari announcing that Jason had a crush on Red Hood on live TV.

It didn’t help that a video of Red Hood and Jason re-enacting Romeo and Juliet with Jason on his apartment balcony and Red Hood on the roof was posted on the internet a few days later. (Thank you, Trixx and Tim’s awesome video editing skills)

Sadly, it was taken down 24 hours later. (Tim and the others have multiple copies of it, on the cloud or hardware, hidden around in the manor and their respective safehouses in the US.)

Some people kidnapped Jason to hopefully gain leverage over the Red Hood and to their dismay and nightmares for years to come, Hellbat came instead.

One lucky and incredibly brave reporter asked why she was there instead of her brother.

Mari being a little shit, “Red Hood may be a tough and scary guy but when it comes to his feelings, my brother is a chicken.”

Pictures of Jason tackling Hellbat somehow never made it into any papers.

The criminal underworld hasn’t taken a hint and Jason has been kidnapped a few more times.

Other times Jason was kidnapped:

Robin: Red Hood made a fool of himself in front of Todd recently and he doesn’t dare to show his face.

Spoiler: He was taking too damn long checking his hair even though I told him that no one was going to see it under his helmet and he was so offended that he is currently sulking in the bathroom.

Red Robin: Red Hood can’t think straight when he is around Jason. I mean have you seen the dude.

Arsenal*during a rare visit to Gotham*: Red Hood owes me one now.

Dick finally ends it by going out as Red Hood and rescuing Jason. Gotham is happy that Redson (Red Hood x Jason) ship has finally sailed.

-------

Kate, Babs, Cass, Steph and Mari were out on Mari’s first girls’ night since her move to the manor.

This is set a little after she came back from Paris with Jason.

They watched rom-com movies, did hair and nails, gossip about the superhero community and bitch and vent to each other.

Marinette off-handedly mentioned the crazy shits she had done during her stint as Ladybug. It started with asking about the T-rex in the Batcave and she mentions jumping into the mouth of a live one before.

Everyone in the room was shocked and after a few more questions, it was obvious that she was very reckless and self-sacrificing. Yep, she was going to fit into this crazy family just fine.

And Holy Shit. There is so much trauma packed into this kid. She needs lots of therapy.

Babs finally decided that they all needed to get out and have some fun. All in their respective suits and they went out.

Joined by Harley, Ivy and Selina.

Plagg came along because I want Plagg to meet Selina.

It was a chaotic night and it was a miracle that Bruce didn’t find out about what the girls did.

-------

Batman and Red Hood were on patrol together when Selina jumped in front of them.

“Hello, Boys”

“What do you want, Catwoman?”

“I want to meet my new prodigy, Kitty Noire.”

Cue Marinette jumping down from her hiding spot, transformed with the Black Cat Miraculous. “Hiya.”

Red Hood carries her like a potato sack and points his gun at the other two.

“Nope, she’s my sister and I called dibs. I adopted her. She’s off limits.”

“Legally, she’s mine.” Batman coughed out.

“I did it first. Emotionally. She’s my emotional support sister. You have plenty kids already, B and Selina, get your own.”

“Hey, I am still here and can hear you.”- Maria

-------

Alya was worried for Lila. She had been acting weirdly for the past month.

She looked very out of sorts. Her clothes weren’t in order and her hair was in disarray. She had bags under her eyes and her eyes looked wild. Lila didn’t look like herself at all.

She jumped at any sound and flinched at really sudden movements.

Alya tried to find out what was wrong with Lila and received vague answers.

One time Lila said that Marinette is to blame.

Alya reaches the somewhat right conclusion that Marinette was haunting Lila and hurting her because Lila used to come to school with bruises and claims that Marinette did it.

Alya goes to Marinette’s grave to desecrate it. (Yeah, go anger the ghost that is haunting someone.)

Unfortunately, the moment she tries to do something, the sky turns dark, clouds appear and the wind begins whipping. A Lightning strike near her and there was a cloaked figure beside her with a scythe.

All Alya saw from the figure was the blood-red lips in a very sharp grin and glowing blue eyes, raising the scythe high before she ran away. The scythe swiped the air where her head once was.

Alya didn’t get far before she tripped and blacked out.

When she woke up, she found herself in the hospital with no idea how she got there.

She was told that somebody found her with a concussion in the park and took her to the hospital.

------

The next one on Mari’s hit list was Natalie.

She wasn’t as involved in the whole thing like Lila, Adrien or Gabriel but she still did it anyways.

Her punishment is a little mild compared to the others and was more of a warning to Gabriel.

Natalie woke up in the middle of the night to see a not-so-dead Ladybug sitting on her vanity chair with the moonlight from the windows illuminating her body and her neck. Her suit was torn exactly like the day of that battle with blood dripping down her arms and from her open wounds. The shadows kept her face hidden but glowing blue eyes stared at her.

Natalie was scared at first. But she regained her normal cool composure.

“I assume you are here to extract your revenge for aiding in your unfortunate demise. But before you kill me, I regret my part in my entire thing and I apologize for everything I have done against you even though I knew it was wrong.”

“At least you show remorse over what you have done. Visiting my grave when even my parents didn’t and leaving flowers. I love those purple hyacinths by the way. Did you know that they mean sorry in the language of the flowers?”

“Why are you stalling my death? Just kill me already.”

“Madam Sancouer. You just played a minor role in my downfall compared to what Adrien and Lila Rossi did to me. And you showed more guilt over your actions than they ever did and Adrien claimed to have loved me. And like I have told the Bats, Death is too swift of a punishment.”

“Who are the bats?”

“None of your concern. You should be more concerned about yourself.”

“Lila sees the ghosts of her past and they haunt her. Adrien is in a living nightmare and has no control over his actions and is despised by everyone. What are you going to do to me?”

“Well, since you show some guilt over your actions, let me tell you a little secret. I am not dead. Not really. I mean I did die. But there was a spell in the grimoire that revived me. It took a few days to work.”

Marinette changed to her normal form. It was a little jarring to see an older Marinette Dupain-Cheng sitting on her vanity chair like it was a throne. The Ladybug suit and the wounds were gone. She looked a little familiar.

“Why are you telling me this? What was the point?” Natalie faltered as she wondered why the girl looked familiar. Marinette moved closer and her face was fully illuminated by the moonlight.

“I intend to take everything by which I mean everything from Gabriel Agreste for what he did.”

“M. Agreste just wanted his wife back. You just gave him your Miraculous, you would still have everything.”

“What difference would it make? Sure I had friends and family before but they turned out to be disappointing. I might have become a famous designer like I dreamed of and can't achieve because I died. Besides, he never said about wanting his wife to come back in his tedious monologues. For all we knew back then, he wanted them for world domination. He showed that he would end the world for them. For kwamis’ sake, he nearly started World War III, just for a pair of earring and a ring. He was willing to kill me to have her back. No wait, he did that too. If he actually read the translated grimoire or asked the Guardian or at least someone with magic for help instead or maybe used his head and made some who can heal as his champion using the Butterfly, we wouldn’t even be in this mess. Face it, Mme Sancour, your boss is a power-hungry and very controlling maniac who is also thankfully an idiot.”

“But- he- he just-. You are just a child, what do you know? M. Agreste knew what he was doing.”

“A child who had a normal life up until he tried to ruin it with his idiotic schemes and hiring Lila to do it. A child who had to fight a war on her own.”

“I am sorry you had to go through that but I doubt you and your little revenge rampage is going to solve anything.”

Ghostly Chains wrapped around Natalie’s body, squeezing tight like it was squeezing the life out of her.

“I was all for sparing you, you know. If you had actually listened to my side of the story, you would have spared from my ‘little revenge rampage’. This is going to be a little painful. Sorry about that.” In a tone that was definitely not sorry.

Pain coursed through Natalie’s body. Her skin crawled and itched as pitch back feathers grew out of it. Her bones turned to dust and reformed.

Where Natalie Sancour once was, there was a raven.

An omen of death and destruction for one Gabriel Agreste.

Marinette leaned down towards the raven. Natalie tried to peck her eye out but Marinette held the beak in a firm grip.

“Ah. ah ah. Luckily for you this is temporary. Mostly. Every night, you will assume this shape and each night the longer you will stay in this form. Slowly counting down the days until Gabriel’s downfall. Since you love helping him so much, you are going to help him know how long he has to live. The night you are a raven from sunset to sunrise, that sunrise starts the day Gabriel Agreste will be utterly destroyed.”

She released the beak and headed towards the window.

"Send him my regards."

With that, she was gone.

(Part 6)

#platonic jasonette #graveyard siblings #maribat #ml x dc #marinette meets the sirens

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dalgonachan · 3 years

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Latibule

pairing: Seungkwan x reader, ft. 95z as a troublesome trio genre: high school au, angst, fluff warnings: none prompt: every day is a new beginning, but today just seems to be too tough to face count: 3632 a/n: i feel like my new writing pattern is updating on the members’ birthdays. this one has been sitting in my drafts for like a year and i was having second thoughts about posting it but alas here it is. happy birthday to best boi boo seungkwan 🥳🎈

Standing in a shower cubicle, as you feel your hair and body dripping wet, definitely counts as one of the most awkward moments in your entire life. Most especially when you’re waiting for everyone to leave the locker room. Forgetting to bring your towel with you was a completely dumb move because you just ran in and took a shower without even thinking of the consequences of being unprepared. Although, first come first serve basis has become a tradition during gym class and you don't want to run out of stalls and wait. Even worse, having to share with someone too generous would be an unpleasant experience. So here you were waiting for everyone to leave so that you can dash out of the cubicle and grab your towel from the lockers.

Maybe I could just wear my swimsuit, go out, and take my towel—no. You thought to yourself, quickly dismissing the thought with a shake of your head. That is just disgusting.

There are around four or five more people left. Silently, you whisper to the air about how much you wish for them to leave so you can be alone right now. Not long after, you hear the locker room door close, followed by a sudden stillness. You carefully open your stall's door, hoping it doesn't creak, and peek outside to check if there's still anyone left.

Nobody's here. But me. Good.

Without hesitation, you immediately exit the stall and manage not to slip while running. You slam the locker door open as soon as you’re inches away from it, then grab your towel and start drying off. You’re not even close to dry when you change back into your uniform and shoes, but for now, you really don't care. You’re running late for math class thanks to your stupidity.

Your footsteps and ragged breathing echo in the empty hallway. You slow down and start searching for your locker. Upon instantly catching sight of it, you sprint for it and nearly slam against it. You twist the knob to put in the code, however, it doesn't open and you try again. A few more attempts to open it are made, but none succeed.

"Come on! Work!" You plead, twisting the knob one last time.

Finally, you give up and kick your busted locker in anger. Being awfully late for math class is as bad as lacking the needed requirements, but together they're simply distressing.

You turn around and walk down the hall, dragging your feet lethargically. Your backpack seems to weigh heavier than it is... or was gravity also conspiring against you, trying to get your body to drop to the floor? As usual, you shrug it off and try your best to go on.

I'll just get to class and hope that this day doesn't completely go downhill.

Eventually, you reach your destination. Hesitantly, your hand reaches for the door knob, but getting caught standing outside any longer could give you a formal warning. You decide to walk in as casually as possible. For certain, you’ve failed to act normally because your movements become stiff with everyone's eyes on you. Barely reaching your chair, the teacher calls you out.

"(L/n)! You're late," her harsh tone is startling and you freeze.

"My apologies, Miss Kang," you timidly respond.

"I hope you have your materials with you." She taps the attendance chart on her desk. "Don't forget to register."

The attendance chart is where students write in, of course, their attendance. However, that isn't all. Listed above their names is a row of all the requirements needed in class. If they have the specified material, a check mark is put below it, beside their name. Lucky for you, you have none so the space beside your name is left blank.

Miss Kang checks the chart and gives you a look after reading your entry. With her eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed, and hands on her hips, it's obvious that she's cross. You lower your head in shame as you feel everybody staring in silence, watching the scene before them unfold.

This must be so interesting for them. Spitefulness drips off your thoughts like venom. (Y/n) (L/n), the pupil who came to class tardy and incomplete, is sent to detention by the math teacher.

You take off the embarrassingly enormous detention tag hanging around your neck and place it in the plastic basket right next to Miss Joo's desk. She doesn't even look up from her computer as she points to your seat—fifth to the right, third to the back. Making your way to the chair, you take a gander at all the other students in the detention room. Some were familiar faces, some others you didn't know at all. Yoon Jeonghan, Choi Seungcheol, and Hong Jisoo, a group of known troublemakers in your school, huddled at the back while palavering about what most likely is their next evil scheme. You get into your seat, pull out a pad paper and pen, then carelessly drop your bag onto the floor.

Miss Kang sent you to detention to write a two thousand word essay about why one should always be prepared and early for class. Could there possibly be a punishment much worse than this? Honestly, it doesn't take long to fill up half of the paper since you were simply stating all the corrections to the mistakes you've recently committed. Just as you’re about to move on to the next page, something slobbery hits your nape followed by an eruption of laughter. You don't even have to turn your head to know who shot that spitball, but still do it to send a death glare their way. Jeonghan shrugs as if he knows nothing, meanwhile the other two are too busy laughing their heads off. If only.

Returning your attention to the paper, you force yourself to ignore them. The pen glides smoothly across the sheet as your thoughts fluidly flow out... but not for long. Another spitball comes your way, but this time it lands on the paper. You can tell they used so much saliva on this one because it created one hell of an ugly blotch on the essay that it actually ruined the ink. So much for effort.

This time, there is no room for mercy. Obviously, Miss Joo doesn't care, so you push your chair out of the desk, letting it screech across the floor, and stomp over to the three boys. The other students in the room watch closely, anticipating the drama about to happen. With arms crossed and eyebrows arched, you shoot them with the most painful glare you can make.

"I'm sorry, but what is your problem?!" You could almost yell at them, but you don't want to get into any more trouble. You’re going up until only this far.

"Nothing. We were just messing around," Jeonghan smugly replies.

You fight the temptation to rip his mouth off his face, but the urge to do so can still be heard in the way you speak.

"Nothing? Oh, sure! I totally believe you, as if you three..." You point an accusing finger at each of them, "...weren't spewing spitballs in my direction!"

The whole room is filled with silence and old Miss Joo is still as deaf as ever.

"We weren't aiming at you," Jisoo defends, leaning forward.

"We were trying to get it to the trash can over there!" Seungcheol points with his thumb, but you don't turn around to look.

"I'm not falling for that and you idiots should know that. Oh, but I guess idiots like you don't really understand anything at all." You feel the tone in your voice getting angrier by the second.

"Fine, fine. We're sorry, okay?" Jeonghan says, but the smirk on his face is still evident.

You squint your eyes and tap your foot impatiently on the floor.

"Right, guys?" Jeonghan glances over at his accomplices.

"Sure," Seungcheol says.

"Sorry," Jisoo mumbles.

"You better be. Just quit bothering me." Turn on your heel, you walk away.

Thankfully, you get to reprimand the three of them for their stupidity. Even so, you can hear them whispering behind your back. Returning to your chair, the tension is thick as you feel everyone's eyes on you. Once you sit down, their gazes divert elsewhere because Miss Joo announces it's time for lunch.

The high school cafeteria is filled with boisterous students, making it almost impossible to move around. You carefully weave through the winding crowd, in search of Seungkwan, your boyfriend, while tightly clutching the lunch tray close to your body. Your eyes sharpen upon nearing each table, trying to identify the people seated down.

The crowd begins to thin when you catch sight of him. He's by himself at the table, staring straight at you with a faint smile on his visage, then you notice he hasn't touched his food yet. Obviously, someone's been waiting. You grin widely, approaching the table he reserved for. Fortunately, lunch time is the most forgiving part of a school day. It's also a good thing because you get to spend time together.

"Took you long enough," Seungkwan comments as you arrive.

"I got stuck in the crowd and I had a hard time searching for you because of that," You respond, still standing in front of the table.

"I noticed," he says with a smirk.

"You could've called me!" I grumble.

"It was fun watching you get lost," he says with a chuckle. "Now sit down already! I want to eat!"

"Alright, alright," You say, placing the tray down and settling into the chair.

In the blink of an eye, a football crash lands on the table, knocking out your lunch and hitting you in the face. Food splatters you from head to toe in less than a second before the whole tray falls on your lap. You lose hearing for a while, your ears ringing. The pain on your face throbs mercilessly.

You look up, vision blurry, still dazed from the hit. Your eyes make out the empty space in front and before you can assume he's left, you feel him tugging you out of your seat. The other students simply look at what all the commotion is about. Turning to the direction where the football came from, your vision clears to see Jeonghan, Jisoo, and Seungcheol with guilt-stricken faces. Unsurprising.

"I should've expected those jerks to have done it again," You mutter.

Grabbing your bag, you stand up from the table and burst out of the cafeteria doors in frustration. This day has been pushing your buttons and you've had just about enough. Perhaps, even, too much. And those three just had to add up with the disasters of today.

"(Y/n)! Wait!" You hear Seungkwan yell.

Not wanting him to catch up, you quicken pace. Hot tears streak down your cheeks as you continue to run away. His constant pleas for you to stop being rendered useless by ignorance, however, he still manages to catch up with you. His hand seizes your wrist, but you yank it from his clutch and push him away.

"(Y/n)!" He calls again, stopping in his tracks.

You don't look back and proceed further on through the corridors, not knowing where to take yourself.

History class helps tone down your emotions, distracting you from the reminder that this day is cursed. The quiz temporarily brings your thoughts to concentrate on the task at hand except for the irritatingly scratchy uniform the clinic let you borrow. Just as how your luck ran out today, so does the ink of your pen. Not to mention, writing an essay to a question which isn't even second to the last of the whole paper. Fingers scrambling through the contents of your pencil case, you realise that this is the last pen.

"Hey," you whisper, attempting to get your seatmate's attention.

No response.

"Hey," you say a little bit louder, worried that she didn't hear you at first.

Her head merely turns to the side, sending a glare your way. Before you can ask, she goes back to answering the paper.

"I need to borrow a pen," you persist.

She leans her head to the other side, letting her hair fall over her face to block you from view.

"Please, I'm still not done," you beg, glancing at the clock. Just a few more minutes and the quiz was going to end.

"I really need to bo—"

"(L/n)!" Mr. Ho's voice booms from behind and you flinch.

He snatches the paper from beneath your arm and shoots an angry look. All you could do was sink into the chair in humiliation since you had no idea how to defend yourself. To him and everyone else in this room, it did look like you were trying to cheat. Therefore, you’re sent to detention for the second time this day.

Mr. Ho's class was the last, so technically dismissal comes next. Right now, as you sit in the same seat during the previous detention session, the bell is all you have to wait for. At least the trio didn't get into any trouble this time or you'd be spending the last period with them. Sleep gets the best of you and you’re consciously aware that you were snoozing off, although decide to let it come. You are really exhausted after all you've experienced.

A crackle of thunder jolts you awake from a dream. Your eyes snap open and see the lack of people in the detention room... which means you're alone.

Wait, what time is it? You lean over to check the clock and it's FIFTEEN MINUTES PAST DISMISSAL TIME?! WHY DIDN'T ANYBODY BOTHER TO WAKE ME UP? Hoisting the bag onto your shoulders, you hurry out of the room and scurry the hallways. Only a few students are left, but they have varsity training or cheerleading practice, anything to keep them busy and give them an excuse to stay late in school.

The rain pounds on you when you exit the doors of the school. From head to toe, you are once again sullied. Well, this has officially ruined the whole day. Unstoppable tears, you've been holding in all this time, flow out of your eyes.

Without re-evaluating your thoughts, you run away from the school and hurry home. The cold wind stings your skin and the reoccurring flashes of lightning blind your vision. Hurried steps splash large puddles on the pavement, drenching yourself even more. You really didn't care about anything anymore, so enduring the bad weather didn't matter at all.

Sooner than you could have expected, you reach the bus stop. You don't take long to go sit under the shed because you’re just absolutely done. Panting and soaking wet, you lean against the cold glass pane. You don’t even notice Seungkwan, who seems to be in shock at your condition, come in.

"You're soaking wet! Why didn’t you wait for me?" He asks sitting beside you.

"I'm just having the most terrible day of my life and I don't want to talk about it!" You didn't expect to yell and you bet Seungkwan didn't too because his eyes widened flabbergastingly.

A fresh set of tears begins to pour down again. By then you knew you've made another error you'd immediately regret. Seungkwan’s face is rewritten all over with worry as he reaches for you, but you push his hand and scoot away, then wrap your arms around yourself. He decides to leave it alone for the time being, allowing you to sit with your emotions. Soon, the bus arrived and he stood up, hand outstretched to you.

“Let’s get home.”

You shut the door and click the locks in place. Slamming your back against it, you slide down to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest and sobbing. Hopefully, after you give vent to all this exasperation, you'll eventually tire out and go to sleep. The saltiness of your tears blends with sweat, hair sticking to your face.

"(Y/n)?" Seungkwan’s voice is muffled behind the door.

You suck in a breath and stay quiet. He still hasn’t left after dropping you off at your house out of concern.

"Open the door, please?" He gently knocks. "I just want to talk for a little bit. Maybe it will make you feel better."

"Go home, Seungkwan. I'm fine." I know I can lie better than this, but why didn't I?

"No, let me in and we'll talk about it. You can't carry all your problems alone," he says causing you to stiffen.

Reluctantly, you sigh and get up from the ground. Your eyes meet Seungkwan’s lush brown irises the second the door opens. He comes in and engulfs you into a delicate embrace, rubbing your back and kissing your cheek. That's when you let it all out completely.

You cry onto his shoulder uncontrollably, but he tightens his hold on you. Now that you think of it, you feel like a bunch of lumber being chained together to keep from falling apart.

"(Y/n), what's wrong? Did they do something to you again?" He pulls away, his eyes scanning your face worriedly.

You tug him back, shaking your head. As much as it's embarrassing to know that you've already stained his shirt with tears, the crying doesn't stop. For a while, you're standing in the middle of the room, cradled in each other's arms and not letting go. Soon, the sadness turns into sniffles and you’ve calmed down a bit.

"Are you ready to talk about it now?" The tone of his voice by your ear is so timid, his breath barely grazing the skin.

"I don't know how to say it without making a racket," you reply.

"Just say what you have to." He smiles at you lovingly, taking your hand and intertwining your fingers together.

You inhale deeply then sigh.

"Today has been very... horrible. First, I forgot to bring my towel to my shower stall, so I had to wait for everyone to leave. Second, my locker got jammed. Not only was I late, but I also didn't have the materials for math class. Third, I got sent to detention for that and then Jeonghan, Seungcheol, and Jisoo had to ruin the essay I was writing. FYI, that was a punishment from Miss Kang!" You pause to catch your breath before continuing again.

"Because of that, I got mad at them. Oh! And because they shot a spitball at me, too! Fast forward to lunch, they take their petty revenge on me and thanks to them, I had to borrow an itchy uniform from the infirmary! Then here comes History where my last pen died while I was taking a quiz! And I thought it was such a good idea to borrow a pen from my seatmate, but instead, I get myself caught. Mr. Ho sends me to detention again and I fall asleep, then wake up fifteen minutes after dismissal time. Guess what? We aren't even at the best part yet!" You throw your hands up in the air in utter frustration.

"That does sound like a rough day," Seungkwan opines.

"Oh, believe me, it is," You say, rolling your eyes.

"So, what's the best part?" He shuffles closer.

"I forgot to wait for you, so I ran back in the pouring rain." You finish, shutting down the whole story.

Seungkwan stands up, and with your hand in his, you do too. He moves his palms to cup your cheeks and tilts your head to meet his eyes. The warmth of his touch makes you close your eyes and hum in content, further calming down. Before you could open your eyes again, his lips meet yours and you kiss back. When he pulls away, you grab him by the collar of his shirt and kiss him more passionately than a while ago. If this is the only good you can get from this extremely horrible day, you’re taking every single bit of it while it lasts.

"Whoa," He gasps just as you part.

"I'm sorry, I kinda got carried away," you shyly apologise, sheepishly scratching the back of your head.

"It's alright," he says before reading the time on the clock. "You know what, after all, you've been through today, I think you deserve some rest."

You haven't had the chance to say otherwise when suddenly he’s dragging you by the arm and you let out a squeal.

"Kwannie! I still need to do my science homework!"

"For science? Nice try, but you don't have science tomorrow," he chuckles.

You puff your cheeks and glare at him.

"You look adorable when you do that, not terrifying. Now go to sleep."

"But Seung—"

"Sleep."

"Kwan—"

"You need to sleep."

You groan in defeat.

"Fine, but only if you sleep with me." You point a finger at him. Seungkwan thinks for a while before he nods in agreement.

"Hooray!" You move over and let him lay down beside you.

"What made me do this?" He asks while getting in.

"Your love for me, duh. Now, goodnight, darling," you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Goodnight to you, too. I love you," He says, pecking your nose.

You tuck into your blankets then close your eyes.

"I love you, too. And thank you for comforting me earlier,"

"You're welcome. You needed it," He replies, standing up to turn off the lights.

When he comes back to the bed, he wraps you in yet another tender embrace. You snuggle into him and bury your face into his chest, to which he responds to with a giggle.

If this is how my day ends, then I'm positively sure tomorrow is going to be a new day.

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sometimestxt · 4 years

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Five Times Loid and Yor Almost Kiss, and One Time They Actually Do

Fandom: SPY x FAMILY Pairings / Characters: Loid x Yor / Loid, Yor, Yuri, Frankie, Anya, Henry Henderson Summary: Or, the Forgers try their best to maintain the farce.

Word Count: 4,321 Read on ao3.

0001

Despite his recent demotion from housemaster to simple homeroom teacher, Henry Henderson was wholly dedicated to the success of Eden Academy. As such, he made an effort to continue his customary patrols around campus grounds to ensure that everything was in proper and elegant condition.

Henderson paused during his rounds as he spotted a familiar couple standing outside of the main building, alongside housemaster Murdoch Swan.

The Forgers, he quickly realized.

Henderson moved swiftly, finding a hiding place within earshot around the corner of the building. It was not a particularly regal action, he knew, but the teacher was curious as to how the Forgers would handle Swan this time.

“What brings you here?” he heard Swan sneer.

“We’re dropping off documents for our daughter’s enrollment,” came Mr Forger’s calm response.

“Oh, your daughter. The one who cried at the littlest thing—truly, a disgrace to Eden Academy.”

Henderson glanced around the corner at those words. He saw the way Ms Forger’s hands clenched and unclenched into fists, yet she remained silent. It had become increasingly obvious to Henderson that Swan was simply trying to rile up the couple as he prattled off more rude remarks—most likely in an attempt to cause a big enough scene to justify rescinding their daughter’s acceptance into the academy.

How inelegant.

The Forgers, however, seemed to be taking his comments in stride. They evidently had enough elegance to pick up on Swan’s scheming.

“And Ms Forger, it must be so difficult knowing that your daughter will always prefer her first mother over you,” Swan continued, his voice dripping in contempt. “The way she still cries over her.”

Henderson felt the sudden urge to punch Swan in the face once more.

“Master Swan,” Mr Forger cut in, steely, “we really must be on our way.”

Swan ignored his interjection, choosing to direct his attention to his wife instead. “Does your husband prefer her as well? He won’t even hold your hand—won’t even kiss you, will he?”

Swan laughed, a harsh sound.

“It’s really none of your business,” Ms Forger gritted out.

He laughed again. “Why won’t he just kiss you then? Then I won’t make it any more of my business.”

At that, Mr Forger took a step closer to his wife. His arm moved and he cupped her cheek with his right hand, then tilted her chin up towards him. He leaned in, close.

Henderson couldn’t stop the scandalized gasp that escaped his lips. Such a public display of affection, on school grounds? How inelegant!

Surely he couldn’t be wrong about the Forgers. They had proved themselves wonderfully on the day of their application interview, after all. He was willing to watch this through to the end, to give them the benefit of the doubt yet again. Surely they wouldn’t disappoint.

When Mr Forger pulled back, he raised his hand to display something. A handkerchief, Henderson quickly deduced. On it, a streak of ruby red marked the pure white of the fabric.

“Sorry, Yor, I had noticed that your lipstick smudged,” he apologized, tone soft. He elegantly pocketed the handkerchief, then turned to face Swan once again.

Though he couldn’t see his face clearly, Henderson was almost certain Mr Forger was shooting daggers at Swan with his eyes. His voice was cold as he stated, “I have no obligation to make my wife uncomfortable to appease you.”

Swan sputtered indignantly in response.

“Now, we really must be going.” Mr Forger ended the conversation there, grabbing his wife’s hand as they swiftly walked away.

Henderson couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips as he watched the couple depart.

Truly, the Forgers were the embodiment of elegance.

0010

If there was one thing that Yuri was certain about his sister, it was that she deserved the world. And so much more, to be completely honest.

She had, after all, done everything for him when they were children. She had worked hard to maintain normality in their fragmented family after everything had fallen apart. She picked up the pieces when they had nothing more than each other and their broken smiles. She was, frankly, everything he had, the only person who could still allow him to feel something as simplistic as childish joy—something he had since long thrown away for her.

Loid Forger, Yuri pointedly decided, was not the world. Sure, the man seemed to be smart, well-articulated, and well put together. Sure, he was also a talented cook, and he probably made a good amount of money too based off of their living space, and perhaps he was devilishly handsome as well (in a completely objective way; Yuri was objective like that)—but he was not good enough for Yor.

Yuri couldn’t help glaring at his sister’s husband as he sat in the living room of their shared home, nursing a bottle of wine. He was here to evaluate the man’s worthiness; likely a fruitless endeavor, because he settled on his conclusion within seconds.

His sister was incredibly kind and despite her monstrous strength, a delicate woman! She deserved someone who would look after and protect her, someone who had her best interests in mind, someone who would move heaven and earth for her. Loid struck him more as the type who would move just one or the other, not both. In his completely objective opinion.

Drunkenly, he demanded to see some intimacy between the couple, to prove that it was real. To prove that she was really, truly happy. It made perfect sense in his inebriated stupor.

Yuri quietly observed as the two sat near each other, whispering soft words to one another. They leaned in, their faces moving in for a kiss. Their lips were close, almost touching. He was filled with dread as he watched his sister—his family—being taken away from him in front of his very eyes.

He wasn’t ready, he realized. He was still just a little boy in a broken home clinging so dearly to his older sister

But the fact that she had been so clearly smitten with her husband, hurtling her own brother across their living room as he darted forward to pull them apart, just so she could kiss Loid, had his own world turning upside down. It became apparent that he hadn’t properly considered the extent of Yor’s feelings.

Maybe he wasn’t ready yet, but she was.

Nobody would be good enough for his sister, he knew.

He tainted his hands in blood for her, after all; gave up a life of innocence for her to live one of normalcy and happiness following their crooked childhood.

Maybe if Loid could give her even a semblance of the happy family that they were, that she so deserved, he would allow it.

Until then, he would continue to dye himself in red to protect her everyday life.

0011

“And that was all I was able to figure out, given the timing,” Frankie stated. Twilight was quiet, a contemplative look on his face. As they stood together in silence, outside a cafe in the city’s core downtown, the everyday bustle of the lunchtime rush continued around them. Sometimes it was easiest to hide in the open, when you could see everyone yet no one at the same time.

“Man, I thought you’d be more concerned, to be honest,” Frankie eventually remarked.

“Give me a moment. I’m just thinking. They’ve been stretching me thin with all this work lately, but I couldn’t turn down this project either,” Twilight answered. “Have you considered looking into—”

“—Loid?” a familiar voice interrupted. The two men stopped and turned towards the sound of the voice.

Frankie saw the way his friend’s entire posture flipped in a second and how his mouth quirked upwards into a fake smile at the sight of his fake wife. As expected of a high-class agent like Twilight.

“Hello, Yor,” Twilight greeted. “I wasn’t expecting to see you around here.”

“I was just passing by; my boss sent me on an errand,” she explained, an amicable (genuine, Frankie noted) smile on her face. She turned to Frankie next, the smile still on her lips. “Thank you for always lending us a hand with Anya.”

He cracked a grin. “No worries. Loid’s one of my best friends; I’m more than happy to lend him a helping hand. And Anya’s a lovely little girl too, so it’s always a pleasure.”

Twilight wasn’t the only one who could pull off a fake persona at the drop of a hat, he mused to himself.

“I’m happy to hear that,” Yor beamed. “Anyway, it was good seeing you again, but I should probably get going now.”

Twilight tipped his hat at her and Frankie noticed him say something, but he didn't hear what. Then he saw her lean in close, so close it almost looked like a kiss—until she turned her face away at the last second and instead, whispered something in her fake husband’s ear. Her own ears were flushed red as she pulled away and bid them both a quick goodbye before hurrying off.

Once she was out of earshot, Frankie turned to look at Twilight, an eyebrow raised questioningly as he asked, “What was all that about?”

“She told me that she likes cheese,” he deadpanned, evidently unfazed by her impromptu declaration.

“How romantic,” he snorted. “That was a terrible attempt at a goodbye kiss.”

“I suspect she’s become more conscious about how we’re perceived as a married couple due to some recent events, but actions like these aren’t necessary. Not that we need to prove anything to you, anyway.” He frowned. “Besides, I’m not trying to bring feelings into this—”

“You never do,” Frankie interjected.

“—But she might.”

He blinked. “And why would you care if she does?”

The spy took a second longer to reply than usual, but it was still a noticeable enough second for Frankie—”I don’t.”

“Oh, that’s a cold way to treat your wife,” he said wryly, then straightened up. “Well, that’s how it should be anyway—but just a heads up, acting like shy schoolkids as a supposedly married couple doesn’t do much for you guys.”

“I’m well aware, but she’s not trained for this.” Twilight let out a sigh; Frankie knew that partnering up with outsiders had been a pain point for the agent since the very start of the mission.

“Then is it really so bad if she feels something a little real for you? Isn’t that good for the story?” he inquired. “That’s how it’s always been for your other… ‘relationships.’”

“… No, you’re right; it’s all one-sided. It normally wouldn’t be a problem.” He raised a hand to his chin, a thoughtful expression on his face. “It’d certainly be more convincing, at the very least.”

Normally, Frankie wanted to repeat, but didn't.

He let out a sigh, reaching out to place a hand on Twilight’s shoulder. The agent moved, shrugging him off almost immediately. Frankie continued, “Well, you can’t say I didn’t say anything.”

“I know what I’m doing and how to approach this,” Twilight said, voice steely, “and I’ll see this through to the very end.”

“I’m not doubting your capabilities, y’know,” Frankie replied, and left it at that.

Yet there was a part of him that still wondered.

0100

Yor entered the apartment at four in the morning as quietly as she could. She was thankful for the fact that she and Loid had separate bedrooms; it made slipping in and out of their home during the night so much easier for her job.

She tiptoed through the living room but abruptly stopped once she noticed Loid, fast asleep on their couch. She frowned.

Long hours again with his patients, she realized, belatedly remembering that he had yet to return home by the time she left for her own work—belatedly remembering how she had tucked Anya into bed earlier that evening and assured her that Loid would be back soon.

Again, it made things so much easier for her like this.

Still, she couldn’t help but admire how hard he worked for his clients—for Anya. It reminded her a bit of herself when she was younger, working herself to literal bone and blood for Yuri.

Her feet moved on their own, leading her further into the living room until she was squatted next to her sleeping partner. She watched the soft rise and fall of his chest, listened to his quiet breaths. He must have been exhausted if he couldn’t even make it to his bedroom. Their couch wasn’t nearly long enough for him to be comfortable; his feet were propped up awkwardly at the other end, and that atrocious sleeping posture would probably lead to a sore neck in the morning.

In the silence of the night, Yor found herself studying his features. It wasn’t often she had this opportunity; after all, their entire marriage wasn’t real. There was no reason to ever get so personal like this, not unless they were keeping up appearances in public.

There were bags under his eyes and his hair was unkempt, she noted, nothing like how it usually was during the day. He was fatigued, no doubt about it. Despite everything, Yor found herself smiling.

He was a good father to Anya. He worked tirelessly for his daughter, she could tell.

Yor wanted to do her best for Anya, too. She knew how hard it could be to lose a mother—to have a family of just one other. Even if it was for only a while, she wanted to give Anya a happy family. She wanted Anya to live the happy, normal life she never really had; the happy, normal life she worked so hard to give to Yuri.

A happy family with a happily in love mother and father.

She shifted slightly, her head tilting forward.

Loid stirred in his sleep then and she felt her breath catch in her throat.

Suddenly, she was acutely aware of how close she had gotten to him. She felt her face warm as she swiftly pulled away, almost stumbling on her feet.

Oh, no.

No, no, no.

She was tired too—tired because it was four in the morning, tired because she just expended all of her energy on her latest assignment. She evidently wasn’t thinking clearly, and she definitely hadn’t just been leaning in to leave a kiss on his lips, not while he was asleep. And if she had been, it was only because she was tired from work!

Yor straightened her back.

Right. Her mission was done. She needed to go clean up now, needed to scrub off the dried blood from her hands before the sun rose. She hurried to her bedroom, quickly discarded her bloodied clothes and washed up before crawling into bed.

She tried not to dwell too much on what had almost just happened, tried not to think about what it would have felt like.

It wasn’t long until her exhaustion took over and she drifted to sleep, dreaming of a simple happy family.

0101

“Thanks for coming again, Loid,” said Yor as the couple walked into her latest corporate party.

“Of course,” was his simple reply.

“Honestly, it’s not like Yuri is watching over us this time, so I don’t think you needed to come for this one,” she murmured, voice low.

“If I hadn’t come, people would talk,” he answered in a similarly low tone. “They’d ask questions.”

Yor pursed her lips in contemplation. “Well, it’s probably fine for you to miss out on one or two of these parties. You’ve been pulling long hours at work, after all.”

“These aren’t frequent enough that it’d be something to worry about,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand, briefly recalling the first work party they had attended together as part of their original arrangement. “It’s better to just avoid any questions outright if we can. It was my slip up in the first place, after all.”

She let out a light laugh. “I guess you’re right. You’ve really thought this through, Loid.”

He blinked. “Of course I have. Besides, it’s only fair I keep up my end of our agreement. You spend more time with Anya than I do at these kinds of events.”

He didn’t want a repeat of what had occurred with Yuri. No more questions, just a perfect couple. A perfect family.

“I like spending time with Anya,” she hummed.

His lips quirked upwards into a small smile. “Well, I’m glad to hear that.”

“Anyway, let’s try to enjoy ourselves!” Yor beamed. The couple made their way around the party, exchanging greetings with each of Yor’s coworkers. Simple small talk was shared, and Twilight spoke vaguely of work as a psychiatrist. When Camilla arrived, she threw around a few pointed remarks before trotting off with her boyfriend in a huff. Time passed quickly despite all of the mundane conversations; he was accustomed to attending meaningless parties for the sake of his missions.

With the party now in full swing, Twilight made note of how the dance floor was filling up. Upon inspection, it appeared to be occupied primarily by couples in romantic relationships—so the next move was clear.

“Yor, would you like to dance?” he asked, holding up his hand to her.

A light blush dusted her cheeks at the suggestion. Still, she grasped his hand in hers. “I’m not much of a dancer, though.”

Twilight politely excused themselves from the small group of partygoers they had been speaking to. He offered Yor a reassuring smile as he led her onto the dance floor, saying, “Just follow my lead.”

She nodded and gave him an unsure smile of her own in return.

She was surprisingly good on her feet, however, able to match each of his steps. He, of course, had perfected multiple types of ballroom dancing over the years—from the waltz to the foxtrot to the quickstep. A good leader was key to ballroom dancing, but it was still imperative that the partner could skillfully follow.

Yor did as much, following every move with precision throughout the entire song.

On the final beat, Twilight leaned in close, his cheek pressed next to hers. He could feel her breath on his neck, warm.

This was when he would normally sweep his date off their feet, seduce them away into the quiet of the night and whisper sweet nothings into their ear until they started whispering everything—secrets, speculations, carefully concealed truths.

But this was Yor—his partner, unlike every other woman he used as a necessary pawn—so instead, he strategically angled their faces in such a way that he knew would make it look as though they were kissing. Yor let out a squeak as he shifted their posture, but still maintained the position.

After counting to five, they separated.

Twilight flashed her his most perfect smile—people were watching, after all—and she mumbled something incoherent in response, her face still glowing a soft pink.

He thought back to Frankie, thought about feelings. What feelings? There was nothing to worry about.

He was an expert.

And Yor was—

“—Wow,” she breathed, “wow. You’re a really good dancer, Loid.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “The waltz isn’t very difficult.”

“Still! It was impressive,” she reiterated. As if to prove her point, a coworker approached the two to compliment them on their dance. Soon they were dragged into another group conversation, and the rest of the night continued without a hitch.

Another successful task accomplished, Twilight concluded as they left the venue together, arm in arm; they were the perfect couple.

0110

“Becky told me that boys have cooties,” Anya declared as she and Yor sat at the dinner table, waiting for Loid to finish plating. Loid had pointedly removed Yor from any and all duties pertaining to dinner despite her protests and sulking, citing her most recent kitchen disaster as reason enough.

Loid let out a noncommittal grunt in response as he moved all of the food onto the table.

“She said that boys are stinky, too,” Anya continued as Loid pulled up a seat next to her and across from Yor. “Mama, is that why you don’t wanna kiss Papa? Because he’s stinky? Cooties?”

He coughed.

“Eh? Oh, no. No, Papa isn’t stinky!” Yor waved her hands around animatedly as though that somehow helped her point. Loid gave her a weary look.

Anya made a face. “Well, Papa and Mama still haven’t kissed yet! Is it cooties, then?”

“No, Anya, it’s not cooties.” He sighed.

“That’s what someone with cooties would say,” she huffed.

Yor let out a soft laugh and he sighed again.

“I’m not gonna do my homework until Papa and Mama kiss!” Anya suddenly exclaimed.

At that proclamation, something seemed to switch on within Loid. His back straightened and it was almost as though he was on high alert. “Anya. Anya, you need to do your homework. If you don’t, you’ll fall behind in class. We can’t have you falling behind in class, Anya.”

She pouted in response and defiantly shook her head.

“Anya,” he started, voice stern.

Yor coughed into her fist then, drawing his attention.

Her voice was low as she asked, “Well, should we…? I mean, it’s important for Anya to do her work. And it’s just… just a kiss. It’s something we should be able to do.”

Her cheeks flushed at the very suggestion.

He frowned. “We shouldn’t spoil her by following through with these kinds of silly demands.”

Yor paused as though she wanted to say something about his remark. She didn’t.

Eventually, she spoke, “You’re right. But Anya’s really pouting there.”

She tilted her head to the little girl in question, her cheeks puffed in rebellion.

“She can pout as much as she wants, but we don’t need to do this. She’ll drop it eventually, like she always does,” he reiterated.

A pause. His brow furrowed as though he was deep in thought. “Probably.”

He looked back at Anya then and saw her reaching across the table, her hands gesturing towards him.

“It’s rude to have your arms on the table, Anya,” he instinctively reprimanded.

“But this is important, Papa,” she stated confidently. She clenched and unclenched her hands in an opening motion, trying to get Loid to do the same. He eventually complied, opening up his fist. On his palm, Anya confidently traced the shape of a circle, then pressed her index finger into his skin a couple of times over.

“There, now you’re safe! Becky taught me how to do a cootie shoot, too. So Mama doesn’t need to worry anymore.” She pulled back, looking especially proud of herself.

“Wow, Anya! That’s amazing!” Yor clapped her hands together in praise.

She beamed, “Now Mama and Papa can kiss.”

Loid let out another sigh. He opened his mouth to speak again, but was promptly interrupted by a familiar theme song blaring loudly from the television in the living room. Anya whipped her head around at the sound, her eyes wide.

“Anya, you haven’t eaten dinner yet,” Loid reminded, his tone exasperated.

“Nooo, I don’t want to miss Spy Wars,” she whined in response.

He gave her a look.

“I’ll do my homework, Papa, I promise! After Spy Wars!”

Again, something seemed to switch on within Loid. He stood up from his seat then and moved to scoop Anya up into his arms. “Only for tonight. Then you’re doing your homework after dinner. No complaints, and no more cootie shots.”

“Promise!” Anya nodded her head rapidly, all worries about cooties and stinky boys suddenly forgotten.

He exchanged a glance with Yor then; she smiled knowingly.

Loid sighed for the umpteenth time that evening as he headed into the living room with Anya.

After Spy Wars, dinner, and another valiant attempt at fractions, Anya was tucked snugly into bed.

Standing in the hallway, their home felt a lot quieter now that Anya was asleep. Sometimes she truly felt like the life of their makeshift family, loud and playful and full of energy.

But the quiet was important, too. They needed their rest—deserved it, given how hectic it had been earlier in the evening.

Loid opened his mouth then, ready to wish Yor a good night.

“I don’t think you’re stinky, Loid,” Yor suddenly declared before he could speak.

He closed his mouth. Opened it again. “I don’t think you’re stinky either?”

“Good! I mean, thank you! I mean, that’s not what I actually mean!” she exclaimed.

He cocked an eyebrow. “What are you talking about, Yor?”

“I… I don’t think you’re stinky, and I don’t think you have cooties either,” she repeated.

He nodded his head, encouraging her to continue.

“So, this is…,” she trailed off, her cheeks warming. “This is… just how it is.”

She took a step closer, then another, until they stood almost touching.

“Yor, I really don’t know what you—”

Grabbing the collar of his shirt, she pulled him down towards her. Her mouth pressed against his, a gentle, brief kiss. Her lips were soft and she smelled sweet, Loid noticed with startling realization. His hand twitched, almost moving to rest on her hip until he consciously stopped himself.

Releasing her grip on his shirt, she took a step back. Her face was completely red and her eyes were directed at the floor with sudden interest.

He blinked once, twice.

Before he could say a word, Yor stuttered a high-pitched “good night!” and abruptly rushed into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her with almost enough force to rip it off its hinges.

He stood there.

Looked at her bedroom door, then his.

Stood a bit longer.

The hardwood under his feet felt different as he eventually made his way into his own room.

That night as he laid in bed, he speculated over the 28 possible explanations for her actions.

#spy x family #spyxfamily #agent twilight #loid forger #yor briar #fanfic #finally finished after months in wip #fake fam real feels

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19mrs-barnes17 · 4 years

Text

Not Kidding

Summary: “Hi! I hope you're having a good day. May I request a fic w/ Steve/Bucky where you're a cheery and bubbly person that's always asking him out (and always get rejected) to the point it's the team's inside joke. But then one day another girl gets introduced to the team and Steve/Bucky have an instant connection and it seems like she's essentially trying to replace you on the team. This is when you become more down to earth and sullen. You can end this however you like I just love angst! Thanks you!” - Anonymous

Part: 1/1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: angst, I think that’s all

Word count: 1,440

A/N: Thanks for the request lovely! I decided between the two in true Harvey Dent fashion, coin flip. I hope you are pleased with the outcome! (Requests are still open!)

Fate was a cruel mistress with her jokes and games, always tearing away at your heart. It simply was not fair for you to pour your heart out only for it to be rejected and taken as a joke. Sure, at first your attempts were mere jests but, it was serious for you now and you only wished he could see that. If only he knew you truly meant it, you weren’t crying wolf. This was a genuine declaration from within and not some silly laugh for the rest of the team.

“Hey, little bird. You okay?” Clint stood in the doorway, leaning on it with his arms crossed and concern painted across his face.

“He laughed again, but this time he playfully punched my shoulder.” You stole your gaze back to the episode of Gilmore Girls playing, eyes on the screen but mind elsewhere. “It’s useless he doesn’t believe me.”

“Woah, that doesn’t sound like the woman I trained.” He sat on the corner of your bed and sighed, unsure how he could rectify the situation. “I think you need to sit him down and beat it into his head that you’re serious. He likes you ya know. I swear.”

“I highly doubt that. So, what’d you stop by to say?”

There was a new member. A woman. Scratch that, a beautiful woman who was witty and clever. Far more appealing than you apparently, seeing as her welcome was much more endearing and celebratory. Everyone seemed to love her and you couldn’t help but like her as well, she was kind. But when you saw Bucky look at her like she was made of gold your heart shattered onto the floor. Clint was the only to notice, everyone else making jabs at you when they caught you alone.

“Looks like you’ve got competition Y/N.”

“Uh, oh. Better make a move before she does.”

“Bucky seems smitten with her, better luck next time Y/N”

When dinner had ended you snuck out of the welcome party, far too easily, without a soul noticing that you were gone. Well almost. But it wasn’t exactly the one you were hoping for, though it was welcomed all the same. Clint leaned his back against the railing, eyeing you as he spoke.

“C’mon Y/N. Give it a chance, try telling him again.” You shook your head, growing tired of trying to appease to someone who clearly didn’t think enough of you. “Okay, that’s okay. You can drop it, or persist. But it is up to you, whatever makes you happy makes me happy. I just want to see the free spirited girl I used to know, and if it takes knocking some sense into Barnes I’d be happy to oblige.”

“You know what? Go for it. I really don’t care anymore, not when he’s clearly interested in someone else. Someone who is me but 2 years older. An archer, same hair color, same cheery and bubbly attitude I used to parade around with.” A tear slid down your cheek but you were quick to brush it away. “It’s fine, I deserve better anyway right?”

“Damn right you do, Barnes is an idiot.” Clint smiles softly at you, nudging you with his shoulder and bringing a soft smile to your lips.

“Why am I an idiot?” Bucky emerged from the doorway, confusion etched into his features as he glanced between you and Clint. The latter glanced at you for permission and you nodded before walking past Bucky without speaking a word.

“You really wanna know?” Bucky’s brow furrowed, arms crossing over his chest as he nods apprehensively. “Where to start. Well, how about how you are letting an incredible, caring, and understanding woman slip through your fingers.”

“What?” Bucky lowers his arms and his gaze softens, taking a step toward Clint. “What are you talking about?”

“You’d think you’d be able to work that one out for yourself big guy.” Clint raises a brow, head nodding to the now empty space next to him.

“Oh, jeez. You scared me, I thought this was something serious. Barton, she's roped you into this now?” Bucky smiled softly as he moved to lean over the railing, eyes scanning the skyline. “You two are gonna be the death of me.”

“Only if you don’t get your head out of your ass and realize she isn’t joking. Not anymore.” Clint sighs before pushing off the rail, stopping just shy of the door. “Not that it matters whether she likes you or not considering you’ve crushed her spirit and heart beneath your boot.”

He’s left alone on the balcony, mind running through the conversation repeatedly in an attempt to determine its sincerity. There was far too much honesty dripping from Clint’s tone for this to be part of Y/N’s usual schemes. Did she really care for him? Of all the people she could fall for, Bucky couldn’t fathom himself being the object of her affection. She was too good for him, too kind. He almost felt as though he would poison her light if he confessed what he had been hiding, he couldn’t bear it. Although, from what Clint was saying, he had already done it unconsciously. He had to fix this immediately.

You were by yourself at the bar, pouring yourself a mixed drink and looking peaceful in your own world. The celebration around you had left you unaffected, no silly smile on your lips or quick thinking quip from your lips. It hurt Bucky to see you so distant, and it pissed him off that everyone had fueled his rejections with their whispers. None of them thought you had genuine interest in him and he had listened to their cautions against getting lead on.

“Whiskey on the rocks please?” He held a soft and tentative gaze on you, a gentle smile on his lips when you nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“For?” She had paused in pouring the liquor but resumed after shaking her head softly as if to wake herself. “Laughing? Or the constant rejection?”

She slid the glass across without making any eye contact, sipping on her own concoction and smiling softly. He tore his gaze from her, eyes growing pitifully sad and pained.

“All of it.” His voice was soft and barely audible under the noise of the music and chatter surrounding them. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey.” She placed a hand on his and smiled softly, shaking her head ever so slightly at his regret fueled state. “Apology accepted, punk.”

A soft smile stretched across his lips, eyes meeting yours with a twinkle of hope. He stood from the stool and made his way around the bar, much to your confusion. Bucky held your hands in his, ignoring the party raging right next to him. You were the center of his focus and it made your heart skip a beat.

“I should never have laughed at you, and I should have taken your advances more seriously. I owe you more than an apology, I owe you the truth.” Your brow furrowed and mouth opened to speak but he shook his head. “I fell for you the moment I laid eyes on you. When I watched you work your way through that training simulation. Your smile and bright personality seemed too pure for my tainted heart to belong to. But it does. Completely.”

You could taste the salty tears dripping down your cheeks, sniffling as you scanned his steel blue eyes and discovered sincerity. He placed his hands on your cheeks and wiped away the tear trails, eyes never leaving yours. Tired, that’s what you both were. Far too tired of waiting and fearing that the other wouldn’t accept you. So you gripped the collar of his shirt in a fist and pulled him to you. Your lips moving in sync, a smile stretching across them as he moved his arms to your waist and hair.

There was a single clap that snapped the two of you from the kiss, heads turning to determine its source. Clint sat on the arm of a chair, hands continuing to clap as a bright smile grew. You could kill the man. Now all eyes were on you and Bucky, especially Steve’s. A knowing gaze and gentle smile from him had you blushing like a damn tomato. Bucky pulled away and stood in front of you with an arm protectively blocking you.

“Alright, get on with it. Move on, have some respect.” His defensive stance in front of you made you chuckle softly.

“Yeah perverts.” He glanced over his shoulder with a small smile before shaking his head at you.

Tags: @qtmeryr @broken-hearted-barnes

Send asks to join tags!

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #requested #send me asks #angst #kayla answers #marvel

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criminalromantic · 4 years

Text

Cornelia Street - Chapter 3 (Billy Russo x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Your relationship with Billy progresses and might be the start of something.

Word Count: 1652

A/N: the third chapter is here and we have a cat that has a dialog, enjoy :)

Warnings: none, just fluffy fluff

********************

Hearing a Monday morning alarm was not a pleasurable experience for most of the population and you were no different. You frowned at the sound of your alarm and without opening your eyes looked for your phone on the nightstand. You cuddled your teddy bear close to your chest before you reluctantly let him go. Unfortunately for you, you would not be getting the privilege of sleeping in. Soon your little fluffy cat-son would start meowing like the world was ending and demanding breakfast. With the thought, you slowly sat up on the edge of the bed. Not bothering with throwing something over your pajamas, you walked into the connected living room-kitchen area, where your cat had been already expecting you.

“Good morning, Benjamin.” After giving him a little scratch behind his left ear you poured some dry food into his little bowl.

“Meow.” You refilled his water bowl while he was devouring his breakfast.

Now that the cat was taken care of - for now - you went to the bathroom to do your business. A few minutes later, you were standing in front of your closet, trying to think of something to wear. And since it looked like a warm and sunny day, you picked a pair of white trousers and a white t-shirt with a flower pattern. You finished the look with mint blue sneakers and headed back to the bathroom to do your hair and put on some light make-up that would match the color scheme of your outfit. You started to feel hungry so you went to the kitchen and started preparing breakfast for yourself, stealing glances at the happy cat that was now lying in his cat bed and enjoying the sunlight coming through the windows.

You were happy that you didn't need to rush to get to work. Since your apartment was right above your flower shop, which was a real privilege. You never had to worry about rush hours or traffic jams, because all it took to get home from work was to walk up the stairs in the back of the building. There was also no need to be scared about going home alone because you didn't even need to step outside to do that. Also, you didn't even need to leave the place for a lunch break, you just went home. It was perfect for you.

Having finished your breakfast, you washed the dishes and got ready to go to work. You made sure to stop by Benjamin and gently stroke his head.

“Bye, Benji, be nice and don't sneak out to the neighbor’s, alright?” You told the feline as if he would understand and left your apartment. He almost seemed like he understood, cause he let out an annoyed meow and went back to soaking up the sun.

A few moments later, you opened the shop for the day and first customers started rolling in. There were quite many, like any other Monday, but everything went smoothly.

When the demand let up for the first time that day, you quickly went to the back of the shop and made yourself a cup of coffee. With a creamy and sugary caffeine boost in your hand, you walked back to your place at the counter and continued enjoying a few moments to yourself. That was until you heard someone come in. And you recognized the person.

It was the same guy that stopped by on Friday night. You might have been sleepy, but you remembered that face. This time, he looked much more put together and in control. He was wearing a dark grey suit that looked crazy expensive. A black coat on top of that and as your eyes moved upwards you noticed that his hair was slicked back. Quite like the last time you saw him, except this time not even one hair was out of place.

“Hi.” He said softly before your brain even thought about saying anything.

“Hi.” You had no idea what to say, so you took a long sip of your coffee to avoid having to say anything.

“I wanted to say thank you, for Friday, you know, for not kicking me out. And letting me drip water all over your floor and keeping you at work.” Even though he was dressed to impress full in business mode, he was very sweet and endearing.

“You already thanked me once….” You trailed off, looking for a name in your memory and realizing that you didn't know his name.

“Billy. Billy Russo.” He offered to shake his hand and you took it.

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

“I came here actually intending to introduce myself. On Friday I remembered that I didn't do that and I also didn't have a name to assign to such a beautiful girl.” You could feel your cheeks burn with blush at the statement. He seemed proud at the recent flow of events and the look on his face was just...content.

What you didn't know, was that Billy had tried to come by one time during the weekend. It was on a Saturday morning after we woke up with a hang-over from the night before. He couldn't stop thinking about you that evening and he couldn't get your out of his head the following morning either. So he went by. When he tried to pull the door, he noticed that it was locked and it was dark inside. It didn't occur to him that maybe, you didn't work weekends. That theory proved itself to be true when he quickly skimmed through the opening hours. With a rather sad expression on his face, he went back to his apartment.

“That's the only reason you came by? To tell me your name?”

“No, I also came to buy some flowers from my favorite flower shop in town.”

What was an emergency visit on one Friday night, turned into a habit over a few weeks. Billy would usually come by every day unless he had a lot of work and he would shoot you a text if he wasn't coming. While you had exchanged numbers, most of your conversations were face-to-face. There was a pattern to his visits. One day he would come in the morning. The next day he would come in the afternoon. With every single visit, you learned a little more about him. He told you about his friends, his childhood, his time in the military and last but not least, about his military contracting company - Anvil.

Billy was crazy about you, at least that's what Frank told him when he entered his office or his penthouse. There weren't too many flowers, but Billy made sure to have a bouquet in every room of his penthouse. The same went for his office in Anvil. He had a security company and the place had to look as such, so he couldn’t make the place look like a garden. That was why giving flowers to his female employees also became a regular occurrence. At first, he got a few weird looks here and there, but he was overall known as a good and thoughtful boss, so everybody just went with it.

“Bill.” Frank tried to get his friend's attention when he saw him walk through the office door with yet another bouquet.

“Bill.” Still no response, he was currently filling a vase with fresh water.

“William Russo!” Frank growled at his friend, who jerked and finally decided to look at him.

“Hm?”

“You are smitten, brother. I've never seen you act like…this. When do I get to meet this mysterious flower girl? I'm beginning to think you just made her up.” Billy laughed, but Frank didn't. He kept his eyes on best friend, awaiting an answer.

“I can assure you that she is real, Frankie, and… I feel like she's good for me.”

“Have you asked her out yet?” Frank asked in a lighthearted teasing tone.

“No, not yet.” BIlly's voice was quiet but his friend heard the response very clearly.

“What? Why? Come on, I thought Billy the Beaut was back at it again.”

“I tried to ask her out once and do you know what happened? As soon as the word left my mouth she nearly choked on her coffee. To be honest, it was funny and cute, but at that moment I decided to wait. I don't want to mess this up, Franke. She doesn't even know it, but I think she makes me better.” A wave of realization washed over Billy. He didn't want to mess this up. He was always the one and done type of guy because he never thought that anyone would want more from him. The money, cars, suits, parties, it was cool, but one ever cared to dig deeper. Whenever there was a girl he thought he might like, it turned out she just wanted to cross his name off the list. So over time, he stopped seeing himself as something more. He thought that no one would ever want him romantically. He never thought that someone would like him for him and not for what he could give them or do for them. And you were… interested. In him, in what he did, how he did it, all that stuff that no one bothered to listen to. And you wanted to hear about it from him. He knew he had quite a reputation and at first, he was worried about what you might have heard about him. All those worries turned to dust when you told him that you didn't care what people said. He felt that he could be just himself.

“Well, that makes two of us. I have never seen you so happy. Hope it lasts.” With that, Frank got up from the chair opposite Billy and left the office.

“Yeah, me too,” Billy said to himself in a hushed voice before he started working.

#ben barnes #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fic #billy russo cornelia street #billy russo flower shop #the punisher #frank castle #billy russo imagine

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rosegoldannie · 5 years

Text

Tell Me No Lies ~ Chapter 2

Hey guys!! I had some time, so I wrote this and the next chapter. I’ll either post the third chapter later tonight or tomorrow.

Enjoy!

___________________________

Aelin’s jaw dropped. “Aedion’s what now?” she hissed, not bothering to try to keep the acid from her voice.

Rowan simply strode past her, and proceeded to set his boxes on the table, then smoothed the wrinkles out of his impeccable suit. “Aedion’s girlfriend.” He said again, finally meeting her eyes.

A soft gasp slipped from Aelin before she could react. His pine green eyes shimmered with a hint of confusion as they roamed over his new surroundings. His silver hair was slightly damp from the rain, and a tattoo wove its way from his neck down into his collar.

“Uh..Uh yeah, no. No, I am most definitely not Aedion’s girlfriend.” She stuttered. “I think his fiance would disapprove.”

Without missing a beat, he replied, “Oh, so you’re his fiance, not his girlfriend, then?”

“I’m his cousin.” She deadpanned.

It was Rowan’s turn to be shocked, his eyes widening a comical amount as his mouth opened and closed like a gaping fish. After several moments, he sighed deeply, and seemed to steel himself. “I’m going to go out on a wild limb here and say that your name is Aelin.”

“Ding Ding Ding!” She cheered with mock enthusiasm. “Congratulations, that’s the first correct thing I’ve heard you say.”

He simply sighed again, extending his hand. “I’m Rowan. Rowan Whitethorn.”

No. No, no. What were the odds that the same guy that Aedion and Connall had been trying to set her up with, ever since the breakup with Chaol, would happen to be her roomate? None. This positively reeked of Fenrys’ scheming.

Aelin plastered on an obviously fake smile, then said, “Would you please excuse me for just a moment?” Before promptly dashing out of the room, leaping over the sofa, and missing Rowan’s confused look.

She was shouting into her phone before she’d even reached her room. “Fenrys Jeoffrey Moonbeam, you have some serious explaining to do. Just who in the hell do you think you are to lie to me? What the hell kind of person would do this? By gods, you had better call me the minute you get this or so help me!”

The next person she dialed was Aedion, whom she knew for a fact was at home. He answered on the first ring. “Sup, cuz?”

“Explain. Now.” She demanded.

“Explain what?”

She took a deep breath, trying to reign in her nerves. “Explain to me why Rowan rutting Whitethorn is in my living room. Explain to me why he thinks he is supposed to be rooming with you, and most of all explain why he didn’t rutting know I live here.”

There was a long pause, then: “kkkkkkkkkk- sorry- ckkkssskccckck- You’re- ckkskkssssccccckkkk -breaking-” the call abruptly ended.

She glared at her phone. “Dumbass.”

As she dialed another number, Aelin felt her blood begin to boil. Sure, she understood her friends wanting her to be happy, especially after her breakup, but this? Lying to both her and Rowan about who they would be living with crossed a line she was most decidedly not okay with.

After several rings, the person on the other end finally answered.

“Galathyinius,” Dorian greeted, a slight edge to his voice. Ah, he was clearly still pissed about Chaol, then. Nevermind that it had been nearly a year.

“Did you know?” She said, a false sense of calm coating her words.

“You’ve gotta be more specific.” He snapped, annoyance evident, though something else hid under it, a slight wariness.

Pausing, Aelin took a deep breath. “About Rowan. Did you or did you not know about Rowan?”

Confusion dripped from his reply, replacing the anger. “...Isn’t she supposed to be your new roommate?”

Deciding that her friend did not, in fact, know of the scheme, Aelin found her self ever so slightly pacified. “Try ‘he’. Aedion and Fen set it up. ‘Member Rowan Whitethorn?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“The guy that they tried to set me up with? Yeah, he’s unpacking right now.”

He was silent for several long seconds. “Alright, that’s not cool. I’ll swing by after work, but now’s really not a good time. I’ve really got to go.”

Before she could say a word, he hung up.

Aelin flopped onto her bed, eyes studying the ceiling, the walls, everything. She eventually pulled up Netflix on her laptop and began yet another rewatch of Outlander, allowing herself to be pulled into Claire’s misadventures.

Some time later, Aelin awoke to a dead laptop, pitch dark room, and a tantalizing scent wafting in from the kitchen. Summoned by food, she slipped out to find Rowan spooning some sort of stew into two bowls.

His silver head jerked up at the sound of her sitting down at the table. “You’re awake,” He said, clearly as uncomfortable as she felt. Good. At least she wasn’t the only person on unsteady ground

Aelin could only nod as he set the bowl down in front of her, then claimed the seat opposite her.

After several tense, silent minutes of eating, Aelin cleared her throat, setting the spoon down with a slight clink. “Uh, okay, let’s try this whole introduction thing again. I’m Aelin.” She said, extending a hand.

Rowan simply arched an annoyingly perfect brow. “I’m not doing this.”

Shock and anger filled her veins. “Shaking my hand, or living here?” She snapped.

“Both.”

No, no. He had to stay. There was no way she could afford the rent on this place by herself, not to mention about a thousand other things. “Why? Just because I’m not a dude?” she quipped, clenching her fists.

“Yes, and because you’re a brat.” He replied.

“Says who?”

“Lorcan. He said it was your way or the highway, and quite frankly, you are extremely childish. I don’t need that sort of immaturity in my life right now.”

That arrogant ass! Instead of refuting his claims, Aelin found herself shouting, “Yeah, well go ahead! Try and find another apartment you can afford in this neighborhood!” then stormed back into her room, slamming the door for good measure.

Gods, when was Dorian going to arrive?

Just then, her door swung open, and in marched Lysandra, with a very disgruntled Aedion in tow. Aelin could just barely see Rowan, still holding the door open, looking as puzzled as ever.

Lysandra whirled on her fiance, giving him a stern glare. “You are going to wait out here, while Aelin tells me everything. Then, you will apologize to both of them. Got that?”

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jackyjango · 6 years

Text

I’m not the only one to be blamed for this. @gerec did say: ‘someone cherik this’

Written for this prompt: if the next big fanfic trope isn’t ‘we had a maybe-fake-maybe-not marriage 26 years ago and i just realized that we never bothered to check if it was legally binding’... or a version of it

Tags: Bad writing, Erik being Erik and swear words thrown in here and there

It's a lazy Tuesday afternoon in the Manson. Storm and Jubilee had volunteered to take the younger ones on a trip to the greenhouse across the lawn, leaving Hank, Sean, Alex and Raven to enjoy a quiet lunch in the kitchen.

Raven sighs when the serene silence is broken by the echoes of her brother's voice from down the hall.

'No, don't talk to me…’ Charles is scolding Erik as he rolls into the open kitchen, and Erik is trailing behind Charles like a lost puppy-- no, a frustrated puppy-- hissing out a mix of curses and 'will you just listen to me’s.

‘How are you guys back so early?’ Raven asks. It's probably for the best to leave out the 'from your physical checkup’ from the end of her sentence, Raven decides. There's absolutely no need to bring up the fact that they’re all growing long in the tooth in casual conversation. Besides, it's Erik's turn today, it'll be hers tomorrow.

Her words, however, seem to pull them out of their private bubble. Charles and Erik turn towards them. Their wide eyes and baffled expressions confirm that they didn't realise that they had company-- just like every other time, then.

'What?’ Charles asks, confused.

‘How are you guys back so early?’ Raven repeats her question, and when she still doesn't get a response: ‘You guys left for Erik's first physical checkup… because he was complaining of chest pains… Any of those ring a bell?’

Charles squares his shoulders and subjects Erik to a death glare, 'Yes, Erik. Why don't you explain to Raven why we came home this early?’

'Oops…’ Sean whispers next to her.

Erik looks at Charles, and when the strength of the Telepath’s glare doesn't abate, he turns to the rest of them. He shrugs defensively, ‘Well, it turns out that Charles’ insurance doesn't automatically apply to me.’

‘How's that possible?’ Hank asks, nose scrunched, ‘As Charles’ husband, you should be covered by default.’

Now Charles crosses his arms over his chest, 'Erik, darling,’ he says, words dripping with sarcasm, 'Why don't you tell them why, even as my husband, you're not covered under my health insurance scheme?’

Erik, too, folds his arms across his chest mirroring Charles’ posture, and in a single breath, says, ‘May be because our marriage might have turned out to be a not-marriage and maybe because we never checked if it ever was legally binding all these years.’

It takes a minute for Erik's words to settle into the room and its occupants.

It might have been twenty-six years ago, but Raven remembers the day like it was yesterday. Remembers her then twenty-three-year-old brother returning from his humanitarian trip to Israel with a ring on his finger and a Nazi hunter by his side. ‘Erik proposed to me on the ship on our way back,’ he had said-- all doe-eyed-- ‘and we got the Captain to marry us! Isn't that romantic, Raven?’

Raven had been mad at him for weeks. Firstly, he was too young to be getting married.

Secondly, what was he thinking getting married to someone whom he met on a trip? And that too someone as scary as Erik? Most importantly, Raven hadn't been on the Caspertina to witness her own brother’s wedding. Of course, she had the right to be pissed.

‘-contrary to what's shown in the movies, it's not true. A wedding officiated by the Captain of a ship is not legally binding in all the countries,’ Hank is saying when Raven’s thoughts stray back into the present.

Trust Hank to know the laws, amendments and constitutions of all the countries.

Charles had been so blissfully happy and so madly in love then, that, of course, he hadn't bothered to check if the marriage would hold against the law.

'Alright. Let's assume for a moment that the two of you aren't legally married, and therefore Charles’ insurance won't cover you.' Alex reasons, turning his chair to face Erik. ‘But what about your own insurance?’

'I don't have one,’ Erik shrugs.

'How don't you have one? That's the first thing the Professor got us done when we came here,’ Sean questions.

'About that…’ Erik trails off.

'About that.’ Charles groans.

'About that?’ Raven raises her brows in question.

'Maybe because I may or may not have a valid visa.’ Erik shakes his head, his expression so quotidian that he might as well be considering his choices for dinner.

Charles winces. Sean opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water. Hank sighs loudly.

'You don't have a valid visa!?,’ Alex asks, ‘Dude, that makes you an-’

'-illegal immigrant,’ Sean finishes.

'How the hell did you survive this long, then?’ Alex asks, quietly impressed.

'By living dangerously as an outlaw,’ Erik replies, baring all his teeth, like he's bloody proud of it.

Alex wolf whistles. 'I gotta admit man, that’s pretty bad a-’ after being subjected to a withering glare from Charles, clears his throat and amends '-not cool at all. Not at al-’

'Wait a minute!’ Sean interrupts triumphantly, like he’s made an earth stopping discovery, ‘I’ve seen driving licence. They don't hand those out without a visa.’

'But have you verified if it's real?’ Erik deadpans.

'Fuck!’ Sean squeaks. ‘I’ve been living with an illegal immigrant and a felon for twenty years. Will I go to Prison for it?’ He turns towards Raven with fear in his eyes. 'I’m not going to Prison, am I?’

‘Nobody's going to Prison.’ Charles says firmly, putting an end to Sean’s fretting. ‘I'll find a way to sort this all out. Sort out our fake marriage-’

Erik's loud groan cuts Charles short. ‘Stop saying that, would you?’

'Saying what? That our marriage is a fake? Not saying it doesn't change the fact that it is.’

'No, it isn't!’ Erik snaps. ‘To me it isn't’ His deep voice reverberates throughout the silent kitchen.

They both stare at each other for a long time, no doubt hosting a furious telepathic debate between themselves. Finally, Erik deflates. The long sigh that leaves his body drags the expanse of his shoulders along with it. He kneels down before Charles and takes his hands. ‘I'm sorry, Charles. For… everything. But a marriage certificate is just a piece of paper. How does it matter what it says about us? When I call you my better half, it's not because a certificate gives me the right to do so, but because you are, in every sense of the phrase, my better half. What makes a marriage is this-’ He waves a hand between the two of them. 'The love that we share, the home that we've made, the school that we've built together, and the family we've created with these children. And nothing can tell me that it isn't otherwise. And absolutely

nothing can stop me from being your husband, not a piece of paper or a social convention.’

Raven has seen Erik over the twenty-six years they've lived under the same roof now. With his dry humour, resting bitch face and shark like smiles, she'll admit that he has reluctantly grown on all of them. But even after all these years, she hasn't got used to seeing Erik being tender with her brother. It's sweet and scary at the same time. Downright creepy.

What makes it even more so is that Charles isn't immune to it. Her brother turns into a puddle of goo on being the victim of Lehnsherr’s heartfelt confessions. Even now, Raven can see the moisture in Charles’ eyes and the smile he's hiding behind his defiant front.

'That still doesn't change the fact that our marriage isn't legally binding, Erik,’ Charles protests.

'In that case, we'll just marry again. That is, if you'll still have me as your husband for the rest of your life,’ Erik says simply.

Charles lets out a chuckle. ‘That was the most unimaginative marriage proposal ever. But, yes, darling,’ he cups Erik's cheek fondly and blinks rapidly, 'I’ll marry you once again.’

They share a tender kiss.

'Why don’t we elope to Europe and get married there? I'm sure I'm a citizen of one of its countries,’ Erik tries as he straightens.

'No! No, Erik. We aren't eloping.’ Charles holds up a stern finger up.

'Urgh, Charles, you're so boring. I'm already regretting proposing to you,’ Erik says wrinkling his nose, like one of the younger students forced to eat their greens.

Charles laughs out loudly throwing his head back, ‘If you think that's boring, wait till you see all the paperwork you'll have to fill to get a visa.’

Erik groans shaking his head. ‘It's proven. Marrying you has been one of the biggest mistakes of my life.’

Charles giggles at Erik's theatrics. 'Come on, old man,’ he says fondly, holding out his hand for Erik, 'Let’s talk to my Lawyers and see what we can do.’

The two of them leave the kitchen hand in hand, leaving Raven and the boys in silence.

It's Sean who breaks it. ‘Are you sure,’ he asks leaning towards Raven, ‘that your brother is the same guy who's an omega level telepath with three PhDs contending for this year's Nobel?’

Raven chews on Sean's words, then shrugs it off as a moot cause. 'Well, none of those guarantee to give you common sense.’

‘No, it doesn't.’

They go back to their lunches agreeing on it.

#cherik #cherik fic #i don't know how insurance schemes work in the US #but generally the spouse and kids are covered elsewhere #also I wrote this while on commute #so expect a tonne of mistakes #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #i probably derailed somewhere in the middle #but it's not like i could help it #jjcherik

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hotdogjumpingfrog5 · 6 years

Text

It’s Strange - Chapter 19

Previous Chapters: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve , Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen , Chapter Sixteen, Chapter Seventeen, Chapter Eighteen

April 25th, 1987

It is Saturday afternoon, and for the first time in a long time, Stanley returned with his seasonal bird watching, now that the weather was warmer, and the grass was getting greener

Stan had convinced Mike Hanlon to come along with him, and just him. The two of them were really close, and he wanted to spend time with just Mike today.

Sometimes they would ask the other losers or party (the ones who were interested), but every once in a while they would just want to spend time together one on one.

They had took in the breezy 15 degree weather, while laying down in the tall grassy field observing the birds

“Hey look! I spotted a canary over by that tree!” Mike pointed out

“Impressive,” said Stan, “So we got one canary, two robins, six sparrows, and I guess we’ll just keep watching.”

“This is actually amazing,” said Mike, “And this is a hobby my grandfather finally approves of.”

Stan smiled at just about everything Mike had said, and the fact it was a lovely day outside, and the only sound in the air was the breeze swaying in the trees or the sound of birds tweeting.

They were now there an hour, just watching and chatting away.

After a while, they just decided to lay down in the tall grass, taking in the peace and waiting for more birds.

From a distance, the sound of twigs could be heard snapping in the forest, which made both Stan and Mike perk up their heads.

“Did you hear that?” Mike whispered

“Yeah, sounded like -”

“Footsteps? How many?”

“I don’t know,” said Stan, “It’s probably nothing.”

The two of them brushed it off, while their bodies faced up towards the sky, closing their eyes again.

Minutes had passed, and both Stan and Mike now felt as if they were being watched by someone, or something. Hopefully birds.

“Do you think we should cut this short for today?” said Stan

“Yeah, feels like we’re being watched,” Mike replied, “It’s kinda creepy.”

As soon as they had gotten up, they felt the urge to look in the forest, to find out the source of the sound.

They leaned closer, and noticed four shadows lurking in the woods, close to the steep hill by The Barrens.

“I told you fuckfaces, don’t mess this up, or I will have to kill you guys the same way I killed my father.” said a familiar voice in the distance, “Do you understand me? Now we gotta wait here for Billy to arrive, he’ll be here in a minute. He will tell us what to do next.”

“Shit is that - Fuck.” Stan croaked

“That sounds like...Bowers.” Mike muttered

Both of them were ducked underneath bushed, and they were about 70 feet away from then

“I don’t get it either, I thought they were dead a long time ago!” said Mike, “This can’t be them.”

“Yes Henry, we understand.” said another familiar voice, “Belch and Victor won’t let you down either.”

“Yeah, you three better fucking hope not. Now keep wearing the goddamn wigs in public, no matter how hot it is.”

Stan turned to look at Mike

“Sorry Mike, but I think they just might be.” Stan gulped

“But how??”

The two of them couldn’t bare to stick around any longer, to avoid bad memories flooding back and to avoid getting caught by the now undead Bowers gang

They had made their way back to the trail which was by the field they were in, and hopped on their bikes, and managed to not get spotted by the Bowers gang

May 15th, 1987

The party had all gotten together that weekend, as they had managed to set some time together before exams in a couple of weeks.

The weather was getting slightly warmer, and they had decided to make their way to the quarry that afternoon.

“I can’t wait for school to be over,” said Dustin, “Two more months of no nonsense.”

“You and Richie.” said Lucas, “Best of luck to you both.”

“At least I’m the smarter one.”

“Not by much though.”

“Can you guys stop bickering?” Max rolled her eyes, “I’m trying to enjoy the sunset here.”

On the other side of the trees, Eleven and Will had happen to wander into the trees, and Mike followed them

Eleven and Will were now basically siblings after Joyce and Hopper became official weeks ago. Eleven and Will had formed a special type of bond since then, getting along very well.

Yet they seemed to communicate in a strange sort of way; non verbally. Not even Mike could understand their way of communication, and he was both their friend and boyfriend.

Then again, the rest of the party and just about everyone else they knew couldn’t understand either.

“Hey, I’ve always wondered,” said Mike, “I know you guys are now siblings, but what does it mean when you look at each other like that?”

“I told you.” Eleven responded

“We’re psychic.” Will finished

“You even know what each other are going to say next!” Mike laughed, “Come on, I think you should just tell us.”

“We would but, we can’t.” El looked down

“What? Why not?” Mike asked, “Everything okay?”

Will nodded

“Yes,” he responded, “It’s just…not right if we do.”

Just then, Lucas, Dustin, and Max came from around the corner, rustling of the trees moving making the three of them look over

“Mike, tell Dustin I’m right, like I always am.” said Lucas

“No, I’m the right one here!” argued Dustin

Max stood behind them with her arms crossed, huffing in silence at their bickering.

“Guys, now’s not a good time!” Mike insisted

“I think we need to tell you guys something.” said Eleven, “And swear to me and Will, you won’t tell anyone.”

The group nodded and agreed, while her and Will went around to whisper the same thing in everyone’s ears; “We had a vision. The older girls you saw with Billy are not who they say they are.”

“Well, obviously.” Max rolled her eyes, “They’re always at Billy’s plotting some sort of ‘weird scheme’ -”

“Shhh!” said Will, “Don’t let them hear you.”

June 25th, 1987

An entire month has past, and both parties only now started to hang out again a few days ago, now that exams were over. Their studying sessions for exams did not count as hanging out unlike junior high studying, which was much easier at the time now that they realize it. But as for high school, as all they did was study.

During that time, none of them got up to anything too exiting or crazy, nor did anything weird happen.

Mike and Bill sat at the Wheeler-Tozier’s kitchen table, as it was a rainy day, while Richie and Georgie were outside sailing boats. Two introverts coming together, and Mike and Bill got along just fine, drawing, and were the ones who made the paper boats for them.

It was the first time Mike was learning how to make paper boats, but Bill showed him how to properly do so.

Sucks that it had to rain on the last day of school, but at least Georgie and Richie were having the time of their lives.

“Does your mom know you and Georgie are -”

“I’d m-much r-rather be up here than with my w-weirdo parents.” said Bill, “T-They don’t really c-care what me and G-Georgie do. So we just d-do our own thing.”

Bill’s stuttering was now improving. Aside from the weekly speech therapy, Bill was no longer afraid of stuff, what people thought of him, his somewhat strange parents, he managed to overcome a lot of things in the past year or so.

“You’re lucky your parents don’t care what you do,” said Mike, “My parents are always on me and Richie’s back about everything, more our mom than our dad though.”

“I t-think it’s because you and R-Richie are the y-youngest.”

“One of the youngest, Bill.” Mike continued, “We are much older than Holly, and our mom still flies over us.”

After being out in the pouring rain for a half hour, Richie and Georgie finally come back inside, their clothes dripping wet.

“I had so much fun!” said Georgie, “We need to do this again!”

“Yeah, I agree George,” Richie sighed, “I’m really exhausted.”

As soon as Georgie ran upstairs, Richie turned to Mike and Bill, and they knew something was a bit off.

Richie didn’t have that usual goofy smile he had after having fun, especially saying he was tired right after it.

“Did you and Georgie have fun out in the r-rain?” Bill broke the silence

“Yeah, though Georgie was acting really fucking strange, even stranger than you, Bill.” said Richie

Bill looked down

Mike rolled his eyes knowing that Richie never apologizes for his lack of filter.

“Don’t think he means to offend you,” whispered Mike, “His imagination is just running wild like always.”

“W-What happened?” Bill asked

“Well we were walking along,” said Richie, “And I got distracted and started to pet this old lady’s cat. When I turned back around he’s looking down the sewer, with some creepy expression on his face staring back at me.”

“You should’ve been watching him! Are you crazy??” Mike butted in

“I’m not done,” Richie ignores, “We continued and he started saying weird shit for a few odd minutes.”

“W-What were they?” Bill asked

“I don’t even know, it ranged from complete gibberish to ‘Do you like floating’ and ‘Want a balloon’ in these weird voices. Then he went back to his normal self.”

All of them had confused expressions on their faces, something was weird about what Georgie did, but they could not lay a finger on it. They knew, but they didn’t. It’s like whatever the clue was as to why Georgie was acting weird, was erased from their minds.

“Really fucking weird if you ask me.” Richie shrugged

Next Chapter: To Be Continued

#it movie 2017 #stranger things #mike hanlon #mike wheeler #stan uris #henry bowers #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #dustin henderson #will byers

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 6 years

Text

A System of Sides Chapter Four

A/N: Here we are guys, chapter four! I hope you all enjoyed chapter three, things are about to get real, and quickly!

PREV | NEXT

Words: 3,403

Warnings: Food, astral projection(?), talk of dormancy/death, talk of panic attacks

Virgil could hear Logan stalk into his room and slam the door, which caused a smirk to appear on the normally anxious personality's face. Normally, he'd like the idea of a truce. He could do without all the yelling around the Mind Palace, it was messing with his sleep schedule and made Thomas feel bad enough Virgil couldn't influence him much without sending him over the edge. But it would have been nice for, you know, Patton to run the system-wide truce by him as well.

With a scowl, Virgil finished his stew and placed the empty bowl on his nightstand. He was not in the mood to do much of anything but sulk and get rid of the pent-up anger he had at not being allowed to work with the others.

At first, Virgil had wondered if the reason the others weren't being as nice to him as when they had first gotten here was just because they were settling in and didn't need his help with figuring out where everything was any more. After a while he wondered if it was because of something he had done or said. But eventually he realized that it wasn't his fault at all; it was theirs for not accepting him for who he was, even if that wasn't necessarily what they wanted him to be.

Virgil had been the first one here besides Thomas, he had a hand in creating the others, you would think that they would be a bit more grateful, but no, of course they weren't. All they saw him as was "the one who made Thomas worse" because of course they couldn't understand the fear that he felt, and that he was comprised of that one emotion more than anything else, and originally, as a fragment before he developed, that was his one purpose: to hold fear.

Patton understood a little better than the others, because over the years Patton had developed beyond a lot of just being Morality and had taken on the role of regulating Thomas' emotions along with Virgil. And Virgil appreciated the help most days. It was just on days like today, where no one ran anything by him, that he wanted to raze the place to the ground, find Thomas, shake him awake and instruct him to fix this mess, because the others would definitely listen to him if no one else.

Virgil's eyes got hot in the back and he grimaced. He really didn't want to cry over this, it really wasn't worth it. None of this was. The hate, the fear, the negativity that emanated from around him wasn't worth staying around for. But he had a job to do, to help Thomas, whether the others liked it or not. So he stayed. He helped Thomas have boundaries and care about the things he was passionate about and kept him quiet when he could get into trouble for being too loud.

Why couldn't anyone see that he was here to help Thomas? That he was supposed to have some sense of fear because without it, he wouldn't know when was and wasn't a good time to do something, where there was or wasn't a danger, and about half a million other things that fear in small doses could provide. Virgil managed the overwhelming fear so those feelings didn't cover everything to the point where no one could process them. He did it so they didn't have to. No thank you needed or given, he just did it because he wanted to help Thomas, because he was there to keep Thomas safe.

He had to be honest with himself, though. No one really wanted him in the Mind Palace. Oh, you could make arguments for Logan or Patton, but even they had their limitations on what they could tolerate. Virgil shook his head and curled up on his bed, willing the stinging sensation in his eyes to go away. He wasn't wanted, but that was a good thing. If he did wind up going away, then there would be no one to miss. There would be no one to miss him. No responsibility for his actions.

No responsibility for his actions. That was a scary thought.

Virgil looked outside his room to see if anyone would be watching him if he moved around the house. Logan's door was open, so that was out. Guess Virgil would have to do what he normally did when he wanted to talk to Thomas. He closed his eyes and took a couple deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He found a place that was comfortable in his room and sat down, leaning back and continuing to measure his breathing. Slowly, but surely, Virgil felt himself start to melt away from his room and wind up in a new place, one that he couldn't find in the Mind Palace, but one that was very important to him nonetheless. The walls were a soft cream, and there was a queen-sized bed pushed up against one wall. Posters were plastered everywhere, about Steven Universe and stage productions Virgil recognized from every year of Thomas' life, and soft colors all around.

Virgil felt a certain sense of calm overtake him, his fear and self-loathing being forcibly pushed onto the back burner by his company. He knew all of this before he even opened his eyes. When he felt his feet lower onto a soft rug, he finally opened his eyes to see the very man he had been protecting since they were both five years old, sitting on his bed and working on his computer. A smile grew on his lips without his permission and for once, knowing he wouldn't be judged, he let it. He climbed onto the mattress next to the man and sighed. "It's been a long day, Thomas," he said.

Thomas glanced up from his laptop, which was showing a first-person perspective of the outside world, and he said, "I'm always here to listen, Virgil. What's up?"

"Oh you know, same old same old. Everyone's doing their thing, walking, talking, larger than life, and bam! Out of the blue I hear that everyone is trying to make a truce about all the in-fighting...without me."

Thomas winced. "Ouch."

"Yeah," Virgil said, voice dripping sarcasm. "Not good in the slightest, and I'm really not in the mood for doing whatever they really want me to do in terms of sitting down shutting up and agreeing to whatever they come up with. So naturally I decided to do a little bit of scheming..."

"Virgil," Thomas said with a half-glare, "You know that your schemes often wind up hurting someone in the process of everything."

Virgil shrugged. "I'm just trying to keep them from agreeing right away so I can join in on the talking, you know? It's not such a bad thing."

Thomas sighed. "Virge, it's still not a good idea."

"I know, I know. It might help if you could come back with me and help sort things out?" Virgil proposed hopefully.

Thomas sighed and looked back at the computer. "I still don't know how, I'm sorry. I'm frontstuck."

Virgil nodded solemnly. "The others think that you don't know about us. I haven't found it in me to correct them, so it remains one of those things that I know about that the others don't. Like how Patton lies or Logan has feelings or Roman can be really insecure at times."

"I'd like to meet them all, some day," Thomas said. "Why don't you ever bring them here?"

"They don't trust me," Virgil said with a sigh. "You don't trust me sometimes."

"When you're bouncing off the walls or having a panic attack I get...concerned," Thomas settled on. "And you usually work up the body into a panic in the process. Doesn't mean I don't trust you."

"Well, fine, you like the others better than me, then," Virgil said. "They have more use to you than me, don't deny it!"

Thomas shook his head. "Virge, I know you don't believe me, but I do care about you. And Patton, and Logan, and Roman, even if I haven't properly seen them and only hear them talking sometimes. I've been thinking about creating a series featuring them, can you imagine the looks on their faces if I dressed up like your descriptions of them and sat down and recorded stuff?"

Virgil snorted. "That would be hilarious to watch. I'd be the villain, naturally."

"You'd only be the villain if you really want to be the villain, Virge," Thomas laughed.

"Well, of course I want to be the villain, that's half the fun!" Virgil exclaimed. "Maybe I get a redemption arc, though. That would be nice."

"I hear you," Thomas agreed. "I really enjoy redemption arcs anyway, and you're too good of a person to always be the villain."

Virgil scoffed. "Okay, now you're just making things up."

"Maybe so," Thomas said with a slight chuckle. "But maybe I'm not. You've been helping me balance out my fear for a solid...twenty-three years now."

Virgil hummed, acknowledging he heard Thomas but not adding any more to the discussion. As much as Thomas always said that he accepted Virgil, Virgil never felt like he really understood it. And there were the days where Virgil came down to Thomas' room and just made Thomas so anxious he couldn't even look Virgil in the eye and just...froze.

Those were the days that always stuck in Virgil's mind; the ones where Thomas could barely stand Virgil being in the same room as him, flinching away from every move as if he was about to be burned. Virgil hated seeing him like that, and hated even more that he was the one to cause such a reaction.

"Hey," Thomas said, nudging Virgil in the shoulder. "I know you often don't believe it, but you do help. You are a part of this system. And you don't have to worry about that being revoked, ever. You're too important. Not only to functioning, but to me. I've known you since I was five, Virge. I can't imagine life without you."

"What if the others decide I can't be around you any more?" Virgil asked. "If they say I'm too much of a problem, and they always keep an eye on me so I can't come here, what then? Sure, I could occasionally talk, try to communicate with you, but I wouldn't get to come see you. You're a big reason I haven't gone dormant already."

"Virgil, I'm flattered, but you need reasons to live beyond another person. It can be for as something as big as writing the next Great American Novel, or as small as having pancakes for breakfast on Sundays, but that reason needs to be important, and unattached to a person," Thomas said.

"This better not be your way of telling me you're going dormant," Virgil said seriously.

"Of course I'm not going dormant," Thomas said. "But I'm not leaving front in the foreseeable future either. So you're gonna have to get used to sometimes not being able to see me, especially with this truce that has you worked up. So find another reason? You might need it one day and it's important that it's not something you could easily lose."

"Okay, I'll think of something," Virgil said sullenly. "But I still want to come here and talk to you."

Thomas held his arms out. "Permission to hug?"

Virgil nodded and leaned into Thomas' warm embrace. "You're always welcome here. When I say you need another reason to live, it's not saying I don't want you here. It's saying that putting your whole reason to live in another living person is not healthy, or safe."

"Because people change, or leave your life, or are in general unpredictable," Virgil sighed. "I know. It's kinda hard for you to leave without going dormant, though."

"I know. But the fact remains, it's not a good idea. Just because I'm going to be around in the foreseeable future doesn't mean I couldn't split and some new host will show up some day, and we won't know where I am, or if I'm still around. This system is stable, not set in stone." Thomas sighed and gave Virgil a squeeze. "I'm glad you visit me, though. I don't know how you get here or why the others can't, but I'm glad I get to talk to someone who I hear in my head all the time."

All the time..."Does that mean you hear the others' arguments?"

"Either through you or just because they're loud and I'm thinking over what to do anyway and listening for their opinions. When it's a normal dispute I just get feelings. When they start shouting I can actually hear words."

Virgil's eyebrows shot up his head. "Maybe I should tell the others about that. It might give them a hint about cooling their jets a bit."

"Hey, they need to let each other know they're frustrated, just like any singlets would, that's just their way of doing it. If they could stop shouting when trying to get me to do something that would be great, but unless you can control that..."

Virgil laughed. "Please. Nobody listens to me in the Mind Palace."

"What?" Thomas asked, and Virgil realized he had never outright stated that everybody disregarded him every chance they got. "Never?"

"Not unless I'm talking to them outright," Virgil said with a shrug, continuing on. "And then, the conversation is usually along the lines of something I did wrong, rather than right."

"What you said earlier, about sitting down and shutting up and listening to whatever they decided, then...they really aren't asking your input? I mean, it's still bad if they try and start the whole thing without everyone's approval, but would they really just..."

"Tell me what they decided and expect me to follow along? Yeah, they would," Virgil said with a scowl. "They forget sometimes that I have a mind of my own, which I'd like to give them a piece of for the way they treat me."

"I'd like to give them a piece of my mind too, if that's the way they're treating you," Thomas said, looking visibly upset.

"It's okay, Thomas," Virgil said, holding up a hand and pulling out of his hug. "I can handle myself, and they have their own underlying problems anyway. Patton takes on every responsibility he can and blames himself when the pressure causes him to crumble, Logan and Roman have too much pride for their own good, and both think they know what's best for everyone, because it's best for them."

Thomas frowned. "Is that why there was shouting yesterday about memorizing my lines versus reading that book I've wanted to for about two weeks?"

"That's it," Virgil said. "That's also probably what gave Patton his crazy idea about a truce. Speaking of, I suppose I should get back and make sure that they haven't burned everything to the ground in my absence, or signed a treaty dictating that I pay all the damages done through the war."

Thomas laughed. "Yeah, okay. Visit sometimes, though. I get lonely."

"Yeah, I will," Virgil promised. "You know I will, considering you're the only one who can calm me down."

Thomas chuckled and Virgil closed his eyes, willing himself back to his room.

Virgil came back into his room with a jolt forward and a gasp. It always felt weird returning from Thomas' room, because it felt like he was coming back into an external body from an internal world, although he knew that Thomas was somewhere in the Mind Palace, not in his own head.

A quick inspection proved no signs of damage to his room, and Virgil smelled no smoke and didn't hear any shouting, so the truce must not have been proposed yet. The way he saw it happening was everything ending in disaster. He had made Logan wary of the others cutting into his time in order for the truce to (with any luck) fall apart on the first attempt. If he was lucky he would be invited to the second. But Roman from the get-go also had issues with his ego. The two would butt heads faster than any territorial bulls.

Virgil kind of wanted to see the fall-out of that, but at the same time really didn't want to consider it because of what that would do to Thomas. If he could hear the two shouting he could hear what they called each other when they got upset, and Thomas was a gentle soul, as evidenced by Patton coming about after only one poorly-timed joke and an upset friend. If the two tore each other limb from limb...Virgil didn't want to think about what that might do to Thomas.

Oh jeez, what had he done?!

Virgil sat down heavily on his bed and put his head in his hands. There was no way to stop Logan once he was on a roll. There would be no deterring him, and Roman wasn't even an option to speak to. Patton might at least hear Virgil out, but he'd probably be too upset that Virgil tried to throw the whole truce out the window to trust him in any future endeavors down this path. He made his bed, now he had to lie in it.

...That didn't mean he couldn't try to soften the blow, though. Maybe he could warn Patton? He might have to lie about how he knew about the truce, maybe say he overheard Patton talking about it. But then he could explain why Logan was going to be on the warpath.

No, he didn't think that would work. Patton wasn't naturally anxious, he'd say that Logan angry couldn't be that bad or that he could smooth things out with the logical personality before he tried anything with Roman. Which Virgil knew would only end with more shouting, this time directed at Patton, making the whole scenario ten times worse. No, no, you screwed it up Virgil, you screwed it up and they'll never get along now and it's all your fault your fault your--breathe, Virgil, breathe. You don't know that yet, you don't know how this is going to go, everything could work out fine...He didn't believe that but he did his breathing exercises anyway before he sent himself into a panic attack.

Breathe in for four..."What happens with the others is their choice, not mine," he muttered to himself.

Hold for seven...Breathe out for eight..."If something is my fault, the best thing I can do is fix it..."

Breathe in for four..."And own up to the responsibility I need to face."

He continued his slow breathing for another minute or so before he dared even stand up from his bed. He didn't feel woozy, just slightly nauseous. He knew this wasn't going to end well, but there was nothing he could do to change that fact now. He just had to help work through the fall out. And damage control was what he was good at.

Now, what could happen? Obviously, Logan and Roman could start to shout at each other, or at Patton. If that was the case, Virigl could come in and ask if they had considered Thomas might be able to hear them. That would stop that in its tracks.

Anything else? Roman and Logan may refuse to speak to each other for a while. Virgil could reassure Patton that the failed idea wasn't his fault for failing, and that he had absolutely nothing to blame himself for, since Patton would blame himself immediately after the fall-out.

Patton might realize what was going on and get mad at Virgil. Virgil swallowed. He deserved it if that was the case. He hoped it wouldn't come to that, but Patton would be justified if that was his reaction. Virgil would just ride out the storm and try not to panic because of it.

His mind continued to work on damage control for hours, trying to find every way it could go wrong and find solutions for that problem. He worked so long and so hard at it that he eventually fell asleep where he sat.

Tag List: @loganpatton @lizzysperil @tree4life25 @nyxwordsmith @lilbeanblr @kittyboof8 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @sanders-trash-4ever

#a system of sides #sanders sides fanfiction #virgil sanders #thomas sanders #our creations

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black-th1rt3en · 6 years

Text

End the new year with a POP and a BANG!

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ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ɴᴇᴡ ʏᴇᴀʀ!

ᴶᴼᴷᴱᴿ'ˢ ᴿᴱˢᴼᴸᵁᵀᴵᴼᴺ: ᶠᵁᴺ ᴼᵛᴱᴿ ᴹᴼᴺᴱᵞ!

WARNING!: mature content y’all!!

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Also there’s a video that goes with this! I just posted it separately

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COLORS FLOATED WITH A RUBBER SHEEN, anchored by a taut plastic string tied around wads of colorful monopoly cash. None of it was real, even in the ridiculous amount - all fifty million of it.

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The balloons would waver in the slight breeze, sometimes dragging the cash-kedge around until they’d hit against each other and bounce back like a speed-bag. It made an uncomfortable squeak each time it happened, and it was the first thing he woke up to.

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The second was a horrible cold, which short analysis served to reveal his stark nakedness in an uninsulated room. Wide open with all but the windows and doors closed - revealing a grayscale warehouse between the rows of rising color. Down there was a pool of black, the scent ripping at his senses as it glared back at him in the dull reflection of some dull lights hanging above, shading the world in a soft rainbow.

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“Wha…�� His lips were numb. Everything was numb and heavy, and his arms… was that rope? He couldn’t move them. He struggled, the friction rubbing at his skin and drawing lines of blood until they hit on the ledge below him. Dripping like a soft faucet. His tongue felt heavy as drool began to fall from his lips, also numb.

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A door slammed open out of his line of sight, and then a voice; one from nightmares, stuff twisted from rotten candy and bloodied lips vibrated through the air like a bolt of lightning. “Wakey wakey, eggs n’ shakey!” There was a string of giggles that followed, mirth seeping into the echoing words, “Did sleeping beauty get all rested up? I sure hope so! It’d be hilarious if you looked bad at your own going away party.”

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There was a short hiss, metal on metal, and a flicker of white came into vision: the sight of metal reflecting light. “Thing is, I don’t know if the rest of the invitations got lost, or no one wanted to see your sorry carcass burst into flames, but no one is here but you and me! Here I was thinking that roasting marshmallows is still a hip thing ta do at partiessss. Suppose I must’ve been wrong.”

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He came into view - the Joker - appearing menacing as ever, green hair long and lanky and pushed back from his face, purple suit tailored and the knife coming full circle as he swung his arms in wide gestures. Every movement was followed with wide, god fearing eyes.

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“You know - wait, wait waiiiiiit - how rude of me, are you cold?” He gestured to the stark nakedness of the man, who was shivering in nothing but his slick skin and a leaf to cover the more…uh, private of areas. “Anyways, y’know so I’ve got a story to tell you, right? It’s actually kinda funny, ha, becoz you’re in it! So, sooooo, I’m sitting in my nice ol’ abode makin’ preparations for the New Years party and I get a nice hospitality call from Niko and you know what he says? Apparently some complete idiot decided to steal all the funds for my little project. So P O O F! A magic transition from this year to the next is gone, because I’m left with next to nothing.”

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The Joker doesn’t laugh this time.

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“I’ll make it work though, I always do. But I couldn’t help but find something funny in it. You know what’s funny about it? Hmmmm? Maybe even, very p o s s i b l y the funniest thing I’ve ever heard?” He leers, teeth bared in a horrible play of a smile. “The thought, the smallest inkling even, that you thought you could burn me and get away clean.”

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Balloons around him, that horrible deadly simper playing on his lips; eyes blacker than death, like two gaping holes that were accentuated by the harsh lines shadowed in his face - he made the devil look pleasant.

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“Bo...B...Boss I sswearya’ve got the wrong idea here - !”

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He laughed, coldly this time, and the absolute chill in his faux amusement pinched harder than the atmosphere of the room.

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“Wrong idea? Wrong idea?!?” He lunged forward, knife reappearing in his grasp and pressing tightly to the man’s quivering bottom lip in a clear message. “Nossiree! You’ve got the wrong i d e a to think that I wouldn’t do this,” He gestured vaguely around him, “when you decided to stab ol’ Uncle Joker in the back. Did ya think I’d let it go to waste?”

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He was seething, foaming at the corners of his mouth and looking like some rabid dog. He turned away, breathing quickly from his nose before his head tucked back to look ahead, gaining some semblance of calmness.

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“Either way I suppose I should thank you,” he laughed shortly, breathlessly here. “just because I realized that full-scale isn’t always the route to really kick things off. I know I seem the flashy type and all, and I really truly am, but maybe jussss’ maybe my New Years resolution will entail me enjoying more of the smaller things in life, like balloons, and miscellaneous flammable stuff, then of course lighters… can’t be complete without a nice one from 7-11 amirite?” He pulled one seemingly from thin air, “Look it’s even got some smiley faces on that and… blood? Ha, I remember, poor register guy didn’t even see it comin for him. He heee.”

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A pause, and he grimaced.

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“Ahh, I’ve gotten off track, where was I, again?”

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He looked thoughtful for a moment and glanced at his wrist as if to check his time but there was no watch, and the man murmured past the knife a barely distinguishable answer.

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“Sh, yeah, I remember! Okay, so you went all houdini with my bucks, leaving just enough for me to throw this little hooplah together last minute to satiate the need for a colorful New Years. I mean if you’re not afraid to burn me, and presumably my money too, then why should I not return the favor? Gracious of me, right? I thought so too.” He giggled some, twisting the blade so it knicked his skin enough to spur feeling but turning the sharp part inwards to allow some restrained movement for a response. “What do you think?”

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“Pleas...please boss. I swear, I’ve got a family..! I swear to you - “

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“You s-suh-suh-swear to me? That’s cute. Cos I could’ve sworn the man on that tape with fifty million of my bucks in tow was you. It’s all here again now, but in monopoly form...” he tapped the knife against the inside of the man’s cheek a few times. “But if we’re making promises, I guess I should re-iterate-uhhh that this is going to hurt, a lotttttttt. And I can say that with about 99% confidence, the one percent being that I’ve never personaly experienced it before, I’ve just got a very good guess. Just make sure to give it a Yelp review if you survive, yeah? I mean I don’t know if you’re fingers will work if that does miraculously happen, but I’m all into miracles.“

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He drew the knife back, and in a single cat-like movement he concealed himself behind the man who was staring forward with blood dripping from his lip and tears streaming from his eyes. He shook his head, moaning incomprehensible pleas. The Joker pushed the chair forward, the scraping of the chair sounding like individual screams as it scraped on the floor and neared him towards the cesspool of black.

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He’d almost forgotten, what between the pain in his hands and the bitter cold and the ramblings of a madman - now his eyes, blurred by their own sorrow, could hardly look away from the fate below, accentuated by the little happy balloons floating around like it really was some sort of pathetic pity party.

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“Money’s miniscule in the grand scheme of things my boy, just gotta enjoy what you’ve got right in front of you.” He snickered, “I mean I surely will, but that’s because I’m not the one covered in flammable gel and about to go skinny-dipping in a fire-hot tub. Literally!”

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The Joker kicked the legs of the chair, watching as the foundation toppled to favor its weight forward and let the man capsize forward into the pool. It was deep enough for him to sit upright, but he’d certainly broken a shin or knee or two on the way down if those pop-pop-pops meant anything.

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The Joker looked on, a cruel smile lilting at his lips and reaching into the depths of his eyes until the small flame from the lighter betwixt his fingers was reflected in them. He extended his arm into the open space then watched it drop down… falling down into the pool as a fire erupted and climbed over the expanse of the surface.

⠀

A balloon popped in the air, a short blaze glittering from the inside and tinted pink from the color of the plastic before it wilted and fell, sending off a concatenation of similar sounds and blazing colors. The Joker hooted, hands clapping together at the shows as he quickly went to the door to avoid unnecessary collateral damage. The fire had yet to draw to the little oil-fish swimming in his little death pool.

⠀

“Liquified-petroleum is light, light enough to fill balloons and very very flammable, and obviously oh so very cheap.” More pops, some so loud they sounded like a line of firecrackers. “I would stay to enjoy the show, but I think I’ll peak this one from the outside.”

⠀

The building shook as the pops became more frequent, until his voice wouldn’t have been heard if he was shouting. But he’d gone through the door, and by now the flames were everywhere and even the water couldn’t save the greedy-fish-man. Everything was burning - from the Monopoly money to the stone floors - and he was burning with it.

⠀

The cacophony of explosions followed the Joker into the night, and a small distance down the street he stopped to turn on his heel and reach into his pocket for some confetti. He’d intended to throw it at the traitor but must’ve forgotten in his excitement, so he gathered it in his palm and threw it into the air, watching as the little shreds of paper floated and danced in the breeze. Some drifted away, some fell down.

⠀

He watched quietly, humming a short tune as his eyes traced the inflamed outline of the building, little embers rising to fill the night with color. There would be fireworks later, it wasn’t quite midnight yet.

⠀

“We buy balloons, we let them go…”

⠀

And surely enough as the flames engulfed the roof of the building, some balloons escaped in the patches unharmed and floated freely into the night, full of vibrancy until the black sky swallowed them whole.

#joker’s new year #balloons #colorful explosions #death #theres a video with it too #american psycho reference #joker loving the sound of his own voice #one sided dialogue #the joker #batman #one shot

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libralita · 7 years

Text

Reread Review!

Title: The Bands of Mourning

Author: Brandon Sanderson

Summary: Now, with The Bands of Mourning, Sanderson continues the story. The Bands of Mourning are the mythical metalminds owned by the Lord Ruler, said to grant anyone who wears them the powers that the Lord Ruler had at his command. Hardly anyone thinks they really exist. A kandra researcher has returned to Elendel with images that seem to depict the Bands, as well as writings in a language that no one can read. Waxillium Ladrian is recruited to travel south to the city of New Seran to investigate. Along the way he discovers hints that point to the true goals of his uncle Edwarn and the shadowy organization known as The Set.

Rating: ★★★★★

Original Review

Review:

Besides Secret History, I’m finished rereading Mistborn! I liked this book a bit more on the second read through. I’ve decided to change the rating from a 4.5 to straight up 5 stars. I know such a big difference but it deserves it! Because I have my knowledge of the cosmere, things made a little more sense so I had a more pleasant experience. This is a reread review so there are spoilers for other books in the cosmere so I recommend reading my original review. I really loved this book and I can’t wait to reread Secret History!

“‘Could you…maybe order a few of the others to befriend me?’ he found himself asking, ashamed of how weak it sounded to say the words.”—Page 23

Wax, my poor child.

“‘I’m sure you did your best,’ Steris said, taking his arm. She was warm, and even trembling. Steris might be reserved, but unlike what some assumed, she wasn’t emotionless.”—Page 42

My cutie.

“‘I’m all right,’ he said to Steris through clenched teeth. ‘But God should have known not to come for me. Particularly not today.’ ‘Your life is…decidedly odd, Lord Waxillium.’ ‘I know,’ he said, moving again, stepping with her beside the last door before they entered the dome. ‘Ready?’ ‘Yes, thank you.’ Was she…teary-eyed? It was an expression of emotion he’d never seen from her. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Forgive me. It’s just…more wonderful than I’d imagined.’”—Page 47

First, in the grand scheme of things, it’s not really that strange. Second, Steris is such a sweetie, god I love her.

“‘For being nice. For being willing to subject yourself to, well, me. I understand that it is not a pleasant concept.’ ‘Steris…’ ‘Do not think me self-deprecating, Lord Waxillium,’ she said, sitting up and taking a deep breath, ‘and please do not assume I’m being morose. I am what I am, and I accept it. But I am under no illusions as to how my company is regarded. Thank you. For not making me as other have.’”—Pages 51-52

Steris, stop making my heart hurt. I would love your company.

Oh yeah, this is the book where I want to punch Wayne in the face for the wedding mishap.

“‘Now, what kinda talk is that?’ he demanded. ‘You’ve given up? Is that how the Ascendant Warrior was? Huh?’ ‘No, in fact,’ Marasi said. ‘She walked up to the man she wanted, slapped the book out of his hand, and kissed him.’”—Page 56

Pretty much, yeah.

‘See, there’s how it is!’ ‘Though the Ascendant Warrior also went on and murdered the woman Elend was planning to marry.’”—Page 56

Okay, to be fair Shan was trying to kill Elend in the first place. Also you forgot the part where she did it in her underwear. Or did history conveniently forget about that part?

‘Gruesome,’ Wayne said in an approving tone, then took another swig of sherry. ‘That’s not the half of it,’ Marasi said, leaning back on the counter, hands behind her. ‘You want gruesome? She also supposedly ripped out the Lord Ruler’s insides. I’ve seen it depicted in several illuminated manuscripts.’”—Page 56

That’s is just false, Marasi.

“Tell me, Miss Colms. What do you know about the nature of Investiture and Identity?”—Page 58

Ugh, fuck me. Investiture makes my head hurt.

“‘Image project,’ VenDell said. ‘They call it an evanoscope. By next year these will be commonplace, I should think.’ He paused. ‘Harmony implies that if we find this wondrous, it will really burn our metals when the images start moving.’ ‘Moving?’ Wax said, stepping forward. ‘How would they do that?’ ‘We don’t know,’ MeLaan said with a grimance. ‘He accidentally let it slip, but won’t say anything more.’ ‘How does God,’ Marasi asked, still staring at the image, ‘accidentally let something slip?’”—Page 63

Movies will be great! Sazed is a horrible liar.

Okay so Investiture is the raw power of Allomancy and Feruchemy. So each person has their special Investiture and that’s called “Identity” which is why Feruchemists can only use their metal minds.

“‘What is it about you,’ Wax said, ‘that makes me want to punch you, even when you’re saying something helpful?’ ‘None of us have been able to figure it out,’ MeLaan said, waving for Wayne to toss her a walnut. ‘One of the cosmere’s great mysteries.’”—Page 69

Haha. Also, ugh it’s so creepy how VenDell has Breeze’s hands. Why would Breeze give his hands to VenDell?

What are the Lady Mistborn’s knives and the Lance of the Fountains?

“‘There are four individuals,’ VenDell said, ‘who, to our knowledge, have held the power of Ascension. Rashek, the Survivor, the Ascendant Warrior, and Lord Harmony.’”—Page 70

More foreshadowing.

“‘Four hours?’ Steris said. ‘I need to send for the maids! And the valet! And…’ She raised a hand to her head, looking faint. ‘And I need to make a list.’”—Page 80

Oh Steris.

“He was completely shocked, then, when the page didn’t contain a historical description, but instead anatomy sketches. Along with long descriptions explaining…human reproduction?”—Page 103

Oh god my poor child. This is probably the most relatable scene ever. Like Steris just wanted to know how sex worked and she so worried she won’t be able to do it correct. My poor child, I just want to hug her.

“‘If it eases your mind,’ Wax said as she tucked the book into her suitcase, ‘we won’t need to be…involved with any real frequency, particularly once a child is provided. I don’t imagine your research will be necessary for more than a dozen or so occasions.’ As he said it she wilted, shoulders slumping, head bowing.”—Page 105

Well, that was the wrong thing to say. Steris is horny af and she wants her Wax.

“Wax crossed the train car, then sat next to her, resting his hand on hers. ‘I don’t like this talk from you. Or from me. It’s become a habit for us to pretend this relationship is nothing more than titles and money. But Steris, when Lessie died…’ He choked off, then took a deep breath before continuing. ‘Everyone wanted to talk to me. Speak to me. Blather about how they knew what I was feeling. But you just let me weep. Which was what I needed more than anything. Thank you.’”—Pages 105-106

Aw, I love these two so much.

“Steris’s teeth chattered audible, and he glanced at her as he finished winding, expecting to see her frightened and miserable. Instead, despite being dripping wet, she had a stupid grin on her face, eyes alight with excitement.”—Page 138

Steris, you dork, I love you.

I can’t believe MeLaan and Wayne had sex during the train attack.

“‘’Sides, I didn’t get to stomp none of them, on account of some untimely snogging.’ ‘At least it was a good snogging,’ MeLaan added. Then, to Marasi’s glare, she added, ‘What? It was. Poor guy hadn’t had a proper snog in years. Had a lot of pent-up energy.’ ‘You’re not even human,’ Marasi said. ‘You should be ashamed. Not to mention that you’re six hundred years old.’ ‘I’m young at heart. Really—I copied this one off a sixteen-year-old that I ate a few months back.’”—Page 151

You ever read something and you’re like “God, this is weird. And the fact this all makes sense to me, makes me weird”?

Guys, you’re so mean to Aunt Gin.

“‘She assumes’ Wax said, ‘that our detective style isn’t normally the punchy-punch, stabby-stabby type.’ ‘To be fair,’ Wayne said, ‘it’s usually a more shooty-shooty, whacky-whacky type.’”—Pages 168-169

You all need some rest.

‘Oh, my lord, I know it, I do.’ The beggar laughed. ‘I own the place, technically. Now, regarding those coins for old Hoid, my good lord…’ He pushed his hand forward farther, eyes staring sightlessly.”—Page 173

First, Hoid often pretends to be blind on Scadrial. Second, why were you drinking cologne, Hoid? Or did you just forget you were wearing it? Were you on a hot date or something? Third, Apparently Hoid has been to this estate multiple times. Forth, Hoid!

Where did Hoid get that storming coin? And why give it to Wax?

“‘Is your cousin well?’ ‘Valette? Most certainly. We are all please with her new marriage. I’m sorry your relationship didn’t work out, but the man who courted her after you was dreadful. When titles are part of a union, it’s always unpleasant to see what crawls out from the mists looking for a bone.’”—Page 188

Wax it’s time to punch this man in the face.

“However, as he did, a different woman slid into place and grasped his hand, towing him into the dancing and away from the perimeter. He was so surprised that he let it happen. ‘Excuse me?’ Wax said. ‘No excuses necessary,’ the woman said, ‘I won’t take but a moment of your time.’ She looked to be Terris, judging by her dark skin—though hers was darker than most he’d seen. Her hair was in tight braids, streaked with grey, and her face bore full, luscious lips. She took the lead in the dance, causing him to stumble.”—Page 190

Hello, Khriss!

“Infant mortality on Scadrial is not as bad as some regions, but still shockingly high.”—Khriss, Page 190

Wax, are you going to ask what the heck Scadrial is or at this point in time has Scadrial actually gotten it’s name? Also, why is infant mortality on Scadrial high? I mean I get that they’re in industrial revolution times so it’s not the greatest conditions in the world but Roshar is like…in a giant war.

“She produced a card and handed it toward him. ‘Please experiment with this further and send me word. Thank you. Now, if I can just figure out why there’s no redshift involved in speed bubbles…’”—Page 191

Wait, Khriss gave Wax her card? Bro! Call her! What’s redshift?

“‘To the Roughs,’ Devlin said, dismissive. ‘What’s beyond them, Waxillium? Beyond the deserts? Across the seas? Nobody cares.’”—Page 204

Chocolate.

“‘I know you, lawman,’ Devlin said. ‘And I can tell you, the group you chase, you don’t need to worry about them. They won’t be a danger for decades, perhaps centuries. You’re ignoring the bigger threat.’”—Page 206

So I guess in the next book the Set will not be completely taken care of and they’ll be around in Era 3 and 4. Also, I’m assuming the Devlin is a worldhopper.

“‘Were you ever insecure?’ Marasi asked. ‘Or did you always know what to do? Did you get jealous? Frightened? Angry?’”—Page 211

Ahahaha, yes, Vin was very much insecure, jealous, frightened and angry for a majority of her life. The concept of Marsh not beating Kell was foreign to her.

“…time to show those in Elendel that their tyranny is not only unjust, it is against the will of the Survivor, who died in the name of freedom…”—Lord Severington, Page 219

Yeah, I think Wax should be more concerned with this civil war that’s brewing. Perhaps New Seran is gathering up an army and will attack Elendel.

“Do Your Metal Tools Speak to You? Your neighbors probably don’t want to hear about it. But WE do! Visit 27 Ralen Place. Ask for K or N. Bring the talking metal with you.”—Page 225

I see Khriss and Nazh are looking Nightblood.

“A few more speeches like this one, and Severeington will have the entirety of the Basin whipped into a frenzy. Completely ignoring that Elendel has us outmanned and outgunned.”—Kelesina, Page 232

I guess Elendel does have an army of some sort.

“Wax dropped to the floor with a thump, leveling his gun at the people inside the room. ‘He’s right here.’”—Page 233

A bit overdramatic, wouldn’t you say?

“Steris grabbed him with, he noted, no small amount of eagerness. She really did enjoy this part.”—Page 240

My ship is being prepared to set sail.

“Wax looked down at her as she held to him while trying to stare in every direction at once. He suddenly found something burning in him, like a metal. A protectiveness for this woman in his arms, so full of logic and yet so full of wonder at the same time. And a powerful affection. So he let himself kiss her.”—Page 241

SAIL!

So, it’s all come full circle. Kell started out seeking the legendary atium to become rich beyond anyone’s wildest dreams and now people are search for a secret stash of Kell’s riches.

Wait a minute so you can use a speedbubble if you’re on something big enough and they’ll move with you. So that means when Scadrial invents airplanes, you’ll always want to travel with a Cadmium misting to make the time go by faster.

“‘It takes the metal one is burning,’ Wax said, ‘and somehow…extends it. You saw. It Pushed your metal away, as if a Coinshot were there near you. The cube used Allomancy.’”—Page 256

This is such a great, ‘holy shit’ moment because on the one hand this technology is cool and think of all the ways you could use it. On the other hand, holy shit the bad guys have this tech.

I love how Steris is like, “Wax, I’m crazy but I’m not that crazy”.

“‘I’ve got an idea,’ Marasi said. ‘How crazy is it?’ ‘Less crazy than tossing Wayne off a cliff.’ ‘Not a high bar, but all right. How do we start?’”—Page 273

Those two usually set a low bar in the sanity department.

‘My thigh,’ MeLaan said, twisting the doorknob with a click, then pushing the door open a crack. She nodded, standing up straight. ‘Your…what?’ Marasi asked. ‘You said my head might hold the key,’ MeLaan said, striding into the chamber beyond—a small, surprisingly well-furnished room. ‘It’s actually my thigh, right now. A kandra stores its cognitive system through its entire body, but my memories right now are in a solid metal compartment in my thigh. Safer that way. People aim for the head.’ ‘So what’s in your head?’ ‘Eyes, sensor apparatus,’ MeLaan said. ‘And an emergency canteen.’ ‘You’re kidding.’ ‘Nope,’”—Page 286

I…this book is weird.

“‘Please,’ he whispered, tears in his eyes.”—Page 294

My poor baby.

“‘Great Metallic One,’ the masked man said, glancing at Waxillium, ‘I, of course, wouldn’t dare give orders to one of your stature even if you wear your bare face out at all times. Who am I to judge? Even if you look equally crass as these others—even the cute one—I’m sure you’re not. But, if I may be so bold as to suggest—’ ‘What?’ Waxillium asked. ‘A little Push,’”—Pages 312-313

He is so cute.

“I found no trace of him, and though no one witnessed his fall, a young white-haired man was there and offered to tell me a story. I declined.”—Page 314

That was a mistake.

Allik Neverfar, I’ll need to remember that.

“‘North,’ Wax said, pointing. The little shelf at the front of the vehicle—like the dash of a motorcar—had a compass set into it. ‘If you head west first though, and find the river, we can—’ ‘No.’ Telsin seized Wax by the arm. ‘We need to talk.’”—Page 318

Don’t trust her!

‘The Sovereign was our king from three centuries ago. He told us he was your king first. And your god.’ ‘The Lord Ruler?’ Waxillium said. ‘He died.’ ‘Yes,’ Allik said. ‘He told us that too.’”—Page 325

King? I mean god, I’ll give you that but you didn’t rule over the people, Kell.

“‘I’m sorry, great Wise One,’ Allik said. ‘You are obviously very knowledgeable about this, and know things that none of us would ever think to try. How could we be so foolish as to not realize that we could simply—’ ‘Shut it,’ Waxillium growled.”—Page 328

I love Allik so much, he’s now my child.

“‘Deniers of masks? Like us?’ ‘No, no,’ Alliks said, laughing. ‘You’re just barbarians. The Deniers are really dangerous.’”—Page 329

I’ll add that to the things to be addressed in the future books.

“There were other groups though. One gave a mask to each child, and those only changed once, when they reached adulthood. Allik claimed that these people—called Hunters—even grew into their masks somehow, though Marasi found that difficult to believe.”—Page 332

I’m guessing that’s where that one woman is from that showed up in Words of Radiance.

Leras was Ati’s wife and sister according to the South’s religion.

“What kind of metal explodes if you put it in water?”—Marasi, Page 336

*Quick Google Search* Caesium?

“There are those from my lands who might find your Basin up here…tempting, with no defenses against attack from above.”—Allik, Page 336

Oh great so Elendel will have to deal with a civil war with New Seran and a hostile airships.

“‘Clever, but it won’t work on you.’ ‘Why?’ ‘Because we’re in your lands,’ he said. The visitor always has to wear the medallion. It’s filled with Connection, yah? Blank Connection, to no place. But Connection can’t just be connected to nothing, so when you tap it, it reaches out and connects you to the place where you are. Makes your soul think you were raised in this place instead, so your language changes.’”—Page 338

So, it’s like rewriting the soul like in Emperor’s Soul.

“The Lord Ruler was run through with three spears, by the Lord Mistborn’s testimony. ‘Once stabbed by a beggar, for the poverty he brought. Once stabbed by a worker, for the slavery he enforced. Last stabbed by a prince, for the lords he corrupted.’ The spears didn’t hurt him.”—Marasi, Page 347

What?

“He wrapped the big spearhead, which was as large as his palm, with a handkerchief to keep it from freezing his fingers off,”—Page 348

So without that handkerchief Wayne would have the power of the bands of mourning. I don’t think anyone realizes how close the cosmere was to being completely destroyed that day.

“‘I have now been to hell,’ he said. ‘These mountain will rise all the way there for certain.’ ‘You think hell is in the sky?’ Steris asked, standing close to Wax, practically clinging to him.”—Page 349

First of all, aw Steris is staying close to Wax for warmth/comfort. Second, what is your version of hell? Is it like the Christian hell? Tell me!

“Waxillium sought justice. He had an open heart—he’d spared Wayne’s life all those years ago, after all—but in the end, he sough to uphold the law. That was shortsighted. Marasi wanted to create a world where law enforcement wouldn’t be needed. Was that why she was so annoyed with him lately?”—Page 354

That’s an impossible utopian world, Marasi.

Well, Steris, the way to become more useful is probably get a gun of some sort and be able to fire it.

“‘And then,’ Steris said softly, ‘perhaps I came along because of the way it feels…’ Marasi looked sharply back at her sister. ‘Like the whole world has been upended,’ Steris said, looking toward the ceiling. ‘Like the laws of nature and man no longer hold sway. They’re suddenly flexible, like a string given slack. We’re the spheres…I love the idea that I can break out of it all—the expectations, the way I’m regarded, the way I regard myself—and soar. ‘I saw it in his eyes, first. The hunger, that fire. And then I found it in myself. He’s a flame, Waxillium is, and fire can be shared. When I’m out here, when I’m with him, I burn, Marasi. It’s wonderful.’”—Page 356

My heart! That is so beautiful.

“‘You actually love him, don’t you?’ Marasi asked. ‘Well, love is a strong emotion, one that requires careful deliberation to—’ ‘Steris.’ ‘Yes.’”—Page 356

I love Steris and Wax so much.

“He looked at Wax and smiled. ‘Apparently these symbols spell out something the Lord Ruler would have understood.’”—Page 369

What? Survive? The trick is to never stop looking, there’s always another secret? I hate noblemen?

“Wax spun, whipping out his gun. He pointed it not at Edwarn, but at his sister.”—Page 373

Goddammit Telsin.

“Marasi turned to Steris, who was still dazed, eyes wide, still looking at the hole where Waxillium had fallen.”—Page 378

Oh god she thinks Wax is dead.

“Lady Sequence?” Lame.

“Beyond that hung a haze of red. All around, pressing in upon the world. He could feel it choking him, a miasma of dread and destruction.”—Page 393

Trell.

“‘I am sorry,’ Harmony said with a gentle voice, ‘for your pain. I am sorry for what you did, what we had to do. But I am not sorry for making you do what had to be done.’ Wax opened his eyes. ‘And when I hold back, staying my hand from protecting those below,’ Harmony said, ‘I must do it out of trust in what people can do on their own.’ He glanced toward the red haze. ‘And because I have other problems to occupy me.’”—Pages 394-395

This section always gets me for some reason.

“Even the most careful of the Series would be distressed by the prospect of being technologically outmaneuvered.”—Page 400

Suit, Sequence, Set, Series.

“At times this seemed to flicker, and for a moment he saw the radiance inside of each person and thing. It felt as if he might be able to move those too. An awed voice in the back of his mind whispered, They’re all the same. Metal, minds, men, all the same substance….”—Page 406

Interesting.

“‘Rusts!’ she said, looking at it. ‘What is this?’ It was sweet, thick, warm, chocolaty, and wonderful. ‘Choc,’ he said. ‘Sometimes it is a man’s only succor in this frozen, lonely world, yay?’ ‘You drink chocolate?’ ‘Sure. Don’t you?’”—Page 415

The people in the Basin are clearly the barbarians.

Malwish, that’s their name. I need to remember that.

“Aradel grunted. ‘Senate’s had my balls over the fire for two days straight, screaming about war and irresponsible leadership. As if I ever had any influence over you people.’”—Page 428

I love Aradel.

“‘I was wondering, Steris,’ Wax said, ‘fi you’d be willing to be my bride.’ ‘I’ve already agreed—’ ‘Yes, but last time I asked with an expectation of a contract,’ Wax said. ‘it was the lord of a house asking a woman of means for a union. Well, that requests stands, and thank you. But I’m asking again. It’s important to me. Will you be my bride? I want to be married to you. Right now, before the Survivor and that priest. Not because words on a paper say we have to, but because we want to.’ He took her by the hand, and spoke more softly. ‘I’m painfully tired of being alone, Steris. It’s time I admitted that. And you…well, you’re incredible. You truly are.’”—Page 431

This goddamn book keeps on making me cry.

“The Set had Faceless Immortals of its own.”—Page 434

So is Trell or the Set possessing people or is the beggar a kandra-like-being?

“Thank you for your service; it has been accepted. You will be allowed to serve in another Realm.”—The Set’s “Faceless Immortal”, Page 435

So is Suit being transported or killed?

“They’d stayed here in the penthouse through the honeymoon, rather than returning to the mansion.”—Page 435

That’s nice and all but quick question: What’s a moon?

“That arm…That arm. Lined with a network of scars layered atop one another, as if made by scarping the skin time and time again. The haunting word he’d spoke echoed in Wax’s mind. ‘Survive.’”—Page 437

God…I need the next book…

#bands of mourning #brandon sanderson #wax and wayne series #reviewsdaytuesday #reread review #2017 reviews

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fragrantae · 7 years

Text

Dilemma

AN: I honestly don’t know how I feel about this chapter. I might re do it in the future, or merge the next chapter to become one with this. We’ll see~ On a side note, there are French dialogues in this chapter, and if I misused a phrase or something I wrote didn’t really make sense, please don’t be afraid to tell me **Translations are at the end of the chapter

please like, comment/dm/reblog your opinions and feedback for this story! It would mean so much to me :))

pairing: jiminxreader word count: 2.2k

-Third Person-

“What do you mean, ‘he got away’?” Yoongi questioned, venom dripping in his voice. “Her safety is in my hands. I’m not entitled to capture a criminal!”

The other end was silent. Then, the phone was ripped off of the messenger and an autocratic voice took its place. “Listen here, Min. You’re the fourth richest businessman on the globe. You joined this committee last year to become the first. Her safety means nothing to the world. And consequently, nothing to you.

“But if we take the chance to let all twenty of them go, the economic balance in the world will tip. You will see markets plummet. The cost of water and comestibles will rise. Order in conduct will shatter. With great resources Apple Inc. could influence the American government to cut off trades with Southeast Asia, followed by Australia, South Korea, Canada, and the European union to name a few. Millions of people thrown out had they a substantial wage to live by. I won’t stand to see the world crumble. I was never raised to.” Yoongi could remember clearly the days in his past, when he would roam the streets, knocking on doors for leftovers or a roof to crash under. “She will be under my watch the entire time. Find someone else to deal with McCann. You’ve got over five hundred agents on speed dial; pick any but me!”

The growl in his voice was daring, but his superior only cackled. “If that’s how you see it then you’ll get dragged down with her. Put your job before your little feelings and your life will be a blessing. But let me tell you this: you are in a position of power. People would beg on their chins to live the life you do. You’re a selfish man, I see. You think you can change the world and rid it of its faults. That not how the world works!” His breathing quickened just as his anger had risen.

The chief was right and Yoongi couldn’t accept that. The infatuation swelling in his heart blocked the sense of reasoning he once let consume him. He’d care about anyone but himself. At heart he was a saint yet he was never content.

Jimin.

The best thing that ever happened in his life. They loved each other dearly, supported each other through any circumstance. Jimin was his everything. Yet he was far too oblivious to see the pain he had caused Jimin by segmenting his love. Jimin would wait every ticking second for a call, message, notification – anything! – while he was on tour outside of the country. Even when they were in physical reach, he would still feel as though Yoongi’s thoughts wandered elsewhere. It broke his heart.

“I’ll get back to work, boss,” he grumbled, sneering the last syllable as he pulled his phone away from his ear to hang up.

But the voice spoke again before he did.

“I expected better from you, Min,” a low chuckle could be heard, “you aren’t one to get so tangled in your business affairs.”

Yoongi was enraged. He didn’t want to hear whatever the chief had to say. The snickering voice sickened him.

A long pause filled the room, the absence of speech only thickened the tension between the two men. “You aren’t such a faithful man yourself. Do you really think you could have her wrapped nicely around your fingers forever? After all, you still can’t even keep up with Park.”

The line went dead, leaving a restless Yoongi in the stillness of his study.

~ ~

Meanwhile, strolling by a frozen duck pond were Ashley and Jimin. Being immensed in their small talk, Ashley grew fonder of Jimin’s presence. Jimin, on the other hand, could easily see his scheme fall into place.

-Ashley’s POV-

“Are you new around here?”

I asked as the laughter died down. Five minutes had passed and Jimin already had me in a fit of giggles. He told me of the days in his youth, how his friends would constantly tease him for his height, or how he was once a miserable cabbage in a school play. I told him of the things I liked: music, food, hobbies – of the sort. I never thought I’d enjoy the company of a stranger. Perhaps it was the fact I’d spend any moment I had away from work in the solitary comforts of my own home, or how I was never a social butterfly at any common event (if I even attended, at least). Jimin. He was a cool guy, to say the least: laidback, with an easy going aura radiating off of him.

Jimin answered with a shrug insouciantly, “I’ve been traveling a lot for the past five years. I come to visit often to meet some relatives.”

“Oh,” I said. I didn’t understand the emotion I felt. I’ve only met him today, but I’m already wishing to see him again. In the circumstance I was pulled into, I doubted the possibility of Suga allowing me to go out with my ‘friend’ whenever I wished to. I looked up at him as we continued to walk about aimlessly, and I couldn’t help but make distinctions of his profile. The way the soft light twinkled in his eyes, his sultry voice, those plump lips…

“I’ve seen you before…” Before I could catch myself, my eyes widened in realisation. “You’re an international cynosure!”

“A what?”

“Oh- I- I mean a celebrity. You sing, dance and act. People admire you. I’m a fan myself.” I slapped myself (internally) for the use of such complex vocabulary. Don’t ruin this moment with your big mouth, dumbass. I laughed nervously and cleared my throat, hoping not to come off as a psychotic fangirls.

“That’s cute,” he chimed, running the side of his finger down my cheeks, the obvious warmth (from both his touch and the weather) creeping up my neck. “But today, and for the rest of the week, I’m just Park Jimin: your average passer-by.” He put on the cheesiest smile in the world making me melt on the inside.

Just pretend. I repeated those two words to myself and decided not to ponder on the subject of his fame. “I respect that, it’s cool.” Somehow, my feet managed to lead us to a little French bistro a few blocks away from the park. A convenient sub-conscious decision at that, considering I had finished my hot chocolate. Ring, ring. We reached the building. The bell above the door rang cheerfully as we entered the little shop, looking around for a place to sit. The room was mostly empty with a few tables occupied by journalists and amateurs. A warm ambience was prominent throughout, creating a calm atmosphere for people to chat about. We sat in a booth which snuggled nicely in a far, dim corner.

In her skimpy French maid costume, the waitress approached us with two menus. I took in her presentation, a little disturbed to see such a sight at this hour. She looked to be in her mid-thirties. Her hair was pulled far too tightly into a ponytail, the baby hairs around her face sprung out desperately. Her face looked horrendous: her parched lips were poorly concealed by a layer of red lipstick, blue and yellow smothered across her eyelids in a patchy gradient, and her contour made her look like a piece even Picasso could not have painted. She looked like she was awoken by the agitating tone of her ringtone – as though her boss had threatened to fire her if she didn’t come out to work on this cold, snowy day. Making her way to the table in a lackadaisical manner, with her grumpy ‘morning-voice’, she sighed, “What a wonderful day. Please take a look at today’s special.”

She dropped the menus onto the table abruptly, making me jump slightly at the sound. I surveyed the meals hesitantly, my peripheral vision focused on the waitress in case she decided to bite my hand off or something. Everything was a little pricey to my taste, but alas, it was me who brought us here. I decided I’d order a little dessert. My mouth opened to relay my request, but no sooner had I spoken when I was cut off by none other than the man in front of me.

“Je voudrais une part de gâteau au chocolat.”

The words fluently flowed off his lips, him smiling sweetly to the hag. Having several colleagues who had the French dictionary on the tip of their tongue meant I never really required to learn the language. The one time it would be relevant and I hadn’t a clue what he just said. In contrast, the waitress looked down at him in amusement, flattered by his words. Jimin showed no sign or intended interest in her. His fingertips reached for my hand and drew little circles on the backside.

“Voudriez-vous autre chose?” Her mood was perking up, so did her smile. The sentence ended with a light giggle, but to me, all I heard was a hag’s cackle.

Still, Jimin took no notice of her flirting, and casually replied, “Deux thés à la pêche.” A little green critter was growing within me, and I knew I had no reason to feel such a way. How envious I was. The sound of the French syllables flowing in one ear and out the other. To think he would stay to mock me.

The grin on her face was slowly undone as she proceeded to take our orders. She huffed a sigh, “Et pour la dame?” and dropped her jaded gaze on me. All jealousy was seeped out of me and surprise overtook me. What on earth did she just ask me? Had she said what she had in English, I would have beaten her on the pretty beige tiles.

But not like this. No. She was staring into my soul with her hooded eyelids. ‘Please don’t look at me like that!’ I inwardly wailed, thoughts of my past French teacher scolding me flashing in my mind. Intertwining our fingers, however, was Jimin, catching me off guard in the moment, my nervous expression beyond his acknowledgement. In the awkward intensity of the situation, I pulled my hand back in, but sneaky Jimin had other ideas.

“Des macarons.” His fingers curled themselves inward bringing my hand closer to him. I never realised how small the table was until, with little to no effort, my knuckles brushed against the fabric of his black fleece. He turned to face me, tilting his head to the side like a dog, a smug grin plastered on his lips.

“Good choice,” was all she said, before taking our menus and stepping away from our booth. She gave me a quick once-over, narrowing her eyes. Current self-esteem: all time zero. I was probably a tomato head at this point, and all I could think of doing was burying my face deeper into the scarf I wore. One side of her lips pulled up quickly before falling again, and when her back turned to me, she leaned down beside Jimin, making it blatantly obvious how she whispered into his ear. “Elle est magnifique.”

A small huff of a laugh left his lips, and he looked down at our hands. Finally, she left.

Not a moment later, our drinks arrived, a different waitress this time; same outfit, The silence was broken by the clinking sound of our cups being placed on our table. “Do you take just any girl you see on the streets out for coffee?”

He sipped his tea, “Only the ones who I take interest in.” He flickered his eyes to meet mine, his lips still kissed the rim of his glass. “And it seems that I

My cheeks flushed after hearing those words from Park Jimin himself. But I shook myself back to reality. “You were pretty flirty with her.”

“You must really be a lonely person.” He crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat. He folded his arms in a way which said, ‘I can’t believe this.’

I opened my mouth to retort but he beat me to it.

“You probably haven’t seen the sun enough to know the difference between being polite and flirting. She looked like she needed a pick-me-up, and I’m pretty sure what I did brightened her day, at least just a tiny bit.”

“By flirting with her?”

“By ordering our food,” he said, as if it was an obvious answer. “Gosh, you’re such a cutie when you’re jealous. I’m here because something about you caught my eye.” He sat back up and tapped the bridge of my nose lightly, my eyes focusing on his finger as he did it so slowly. “I picked up a few words and phrases while I was on my European tour, no biggie. Look – the food has arrived.” The same waitress who took our order placed two plates on our table: one with a slice of black forest, another with half a dozen macarons (pink, blue, and white). “Mercí,” he accepted the dishes from her kindly.

The plates were placed, one before me, and the other Jimin. She took a good look at the both of us, a weak smile broke on her face, “Bon appetit, lovers.” It was at that moment I sensed there could have been more to her than how she presented herself.

A little part of me believed it wasn’t fate which lead me to simply stumble upon him - what were the odds of that. And that she wasn’t the only person whom I needed a better understanding of.

**French dialogue translations

“Je voudrais une part de gâteau au chocolat.” - I would like a slice of chocolate cake.

“Voudriez-vous autre chose?“ - Would you like anything else?

“Deux thés à la pêche.” -Two peach teas.

“Et pour la dame?” -And for the lady?

“Des macarons.” -Some macarons.

“Elle est magnifique.” -She’s beautiful.

“Mercí,” -Thank you,

“Bon appetit,” -Enjoy your meal,

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sonderabcomm3e · 3 years

Text

“I Am You”

Statistics display the rate of dissociative identity disorder as .01% to 1% of the overall populace. Some of them say that they experience it as if they are watching themselves in a movie at times. Will you believe if I tell you that I'm part of that small percentage of people with undiagnosed dissociative identity disorder? Or you'll think that I'm just a typical weirdo in the neighborhood just like what others think? But I'll tell you they are true, and they exist in me. My name is Terry. I'm a scarred highschool student. Kids at my age used to make fun of me because I stutter every time I speak. Is it a bad thing? I can't understand them though. I didn't do anything wrong for them to hate me this much. Today, someone threw my bag into the trash bin when I was away from my seat to buy some snacks in the canteen. That made Sam furious. Sam is my other self. He is a 20 years old teenager with an anger management issue. Weeks ago I was sent to the Guidance Office because he beat someone for accidentally stepping on his foot. That time my classmates were so flustered because I used to be the one who received that kind of treatment from my bullies. At this moment, Sam is taking the spot over me, so he can avenge on my behalf. Honestly, I'm glad that he exists because without him, I'm just a wimpy kid who cannot fight back. I'm so sick of that. But before he punched that guy straight on his face I stopped Sam. Yes, we can coexist at the same time. Amazing, right? I saw how scared that idiot is when I started talking to Sam. I know he thinks I'm crazy, but I have no other choice. I don't want Sam to get into trouble. I know him, he turns into a monster when he's angry, so I decided to cut my class and went home straight before Sam's emotion exploded. There, Loida suddenly appears. She is my third identity. Loida is a full-time housewife, and she always takes good care of me and Sam. You know, I used to be alone in this house. I have no one by my side because my parents passed away in a car accident when I was thirteen. I was lonely but not until my two identities came. I still remember it vividly, when I'm alone walking in a dark alley after a tiring day at school, I heard an unusual noise. Out of my curiosity I tried to find where is that noise coming from, as I come closer and closer to it, the noise becomes more loud and clear. It was a girl desperately crying for help, and around her is a bunch of male students feasting on her body. I was too scared, I was too coward. I ran and left that girl behind, then the next day, I saw her face in a news article. She's dead, she committed suicide that night, after that horrible incident. That's when my other two identities came to life. In the middle of a calm and sunny day a strong wind blows into my life, yet I wasn't so sure if this will give me comfort or will leave me more devastated at the end. But now I'm sure that it's not the latter. I enjoyed their company. Actually no one wants to be my friend, good thing I have the both of them, so I'm feeling less lonely these days. I'm just afraid of one thing. I haven't seen my fourth identity. I just heard things about him from Sam and Loida. According to them, he exists to protect young girls, but he's quite dangerous because he has a tendency to kill. My life is already complicated as it is, I don't think I need more. Bang! I heard the sound of a gun near my place, so I rushed outside to check where the noise was coming from. I saw a man probably in his 30s pointing a gun to a half naked girl trembling in fear. The next thing I knew is that my hands are covered in blood while holding a gun, and in front of me is a lifeless man and a girl crying out of shock. Minutes later I'm still staring blankly out of nowhere when the cops came and arrested me. “It was not me”, I uttered between my tears. But will they actually believe me or they'll just think that I'm crazy? Well, it doesn't matter anymore. Everything is all messed up, but none of these is my fault. If only the world became less cruel to me, I think everything would have

flowed differently. None of these would happen, and no one needs to suffer. “Shall we put an end to this?”, I whispered to the cop next to me in the passenger's seat. I quickly grab his gun and pull the trigger, then jump out of the car. Why would I kill myself if I can just kill them all? Afterall, it is the world who turns me into who I am. Run, run, run, all my life all I do is to run like a coward, but not anymore. From this day forward, I will deliver every sinner to hell. That's how my fourth identity dominates me. My other identities are no longer able to take the spot, all I can do is to watch him as if I'm watching myself in a movie. Under the moonlight when everyone was asleep, he goes around every dark alleys slashing his knife to everyone he saw committing inhumane acts: rape, robbery, murder, all of them. He doesn't miss any. I can feel how satisfied he is while mutilating the bodies of his targets, he even collected some of their belongings as his remembrance. Each day passing by, people's fear of going outside in the middle of the night increases after seeing those mortified bodies purposely left in the street to serve as a warning. The busy street in the morning looks like an abandoned place every night. Though the criminality rate reaches the bottom rock, yet no one dares to go outside. “Is this the world that you want?”, I asked myself hoping that this will be heard by my fourth personality. At once, he let me take over the spot, now we are coexisting in my body. “Oh, my dear Terry, only evil can defeat evil. A sacrifice should be made to end this war, you should be proud of our contribution to achieve this peace. Why are you being like that? Every man has a darkness buried deeply within them, and you are not an exemption. Come on, don't fool yourself. You're not better than me. Did you not enjoy watching me stab those garbages ruthlessly? Did you not enjoy hearing them scream and plead for their lives? Did you not feel like a god even for a moment just like I am? Don't you know that I exist to do what you are too scared to do? No matter how hard you deny me, I am you.” A sound of a gun cut our conversation, the police surrounded me, and now I am cornered. “Let's just surrender!”, I angrily shouted to my fourth personality, but he never listened to me. Instead he reached the cop nearest to him, stole his gun and took him as a hostage. I don't know what to do, he became stronger than me. In fact, he has more control of my own body than I do. While I am still confused on what to do, one of the officers shoots me in my left arm making me lose my hold on the hostage. When they already ensured the safety of the hostage, they shot my left arm once again which made me lose my balance. I fell hard and became unconscious for a few seconds. When I woke up, my fourth personality was no longer with me. I take the opportunity and grab the gun that I fell a while ago. “I'm sorry but I refuse to be a part of your evil scheme; I refuse to be you.”, I uttered before letting the bullet enter my head. I clearly saw the blood dripping down my head, then everything around me turned black. “This must be the end.”, I whispered as my strength slowly left my body. But I was wrong. When I opened my eyes all I could see was a room covered with white paint, a white bed, and a white dress. I shout and shout hoping that someone will hear me, but no one responded to my desperate cry. That moment I was suddenly reminded of the people who died on my own hands. They actually do the same, they desperately plead for their lives, but at the end it was all useless. I never felt even a small amount of sympathy towards them. All I could think about is their sins — I was too busy justifying all the heinous crimes I committed. Is this the price I have to pay for the blood in my hands?

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me-mindfulexistence · 6 years

Text

The Fight Over Self Defense

I’ve spent a good part of my adult life teaching female self defense courses in various settings....using multiple methods...even different styles of martial arts. As my training has evolved over a 15 year period.....not only ‘how’ I teach and ‘what’ I teach has changed but my MENTALITY about the REALITY of what people are actually taking away and what is really happening in society has come to be a HUGE part of me deciding ‘what’s important’ in the grande scheme of things. Just some background about me....I’m a 44 y/o female who’s been training a long freakin time. I started in Shotokan Karate for many years and have been doing jiu-jitsu since early 2003. At this point my consistency getting to BJJ sucks....but I’m still in it. I work full time, married and parent 5 children. 3 boys 2 girls (All teenagers and older). I’m not very big. 5′8, 122lbs. So I’m usually the smallest in the class. Training isn’t easy so I don’t care to hear guys complain about the ‘difficulties’ of training or rolling with ‘bigger guys’.

I’m writing this b/c I’ve found so many people from the martial arts community (specifically jiu-jitsu) with such strong feelings that these “other” self defense ‘videos’ or “other” martial arts styles showing ‘techniques’ that are what they consider “just crap”....and making statements like:

-”those techniques are so bad they’re going to get someone killed“ or “1 day self defense classes are ‘junk’ and pointless...no one can learn anything in one day”...”Self defense sounds too intimidating....it should be called something else”....”females just need to do x, y and z”.....Like it’s that easy?

Listen here.....I realize it seems so simple when you train consistently....ESPECIALLY if you are a man......BUT......It’s not that easy. Do you REALLY think females who don’t train are watching a video clip and saying to their coffee clutch, book club or sorority, “Hey, girls! I saw the most awesome self defense clip! Lets get together and practice it tonight!”. Hell no. They saw it once and it’s out of sight and out of mind.

I don’t care if you have the best self defense technique EVER! If a female doesn’t train that religiously, a thousand times over, there is NO damn way the average female is pulling that crap off against a predator. Period. Lets be real. The average female is at greatest risk of being attacked by someone she knows. 70% or more is the statistic. Got it? The majority are not jumping out of the bushes. Not that it can’t happen (and of course when we train we always prepare) but it’s more plausible that they’re being mauled by the guy they’ve gone out on a date with...or met at a party....the soccer coach....church leader....next door neighbor....someone they’ve ALLOWED in their personal space.....and MANY MANY times these females are GROOMED for this ahead of time! There are warning signs. This predatory behavior isn’t without some ‘notice’...but in order to know the signs, someone would need to have education about what they are.

http://outofthefog.website/top-100-trait-blog/2015/11/4/grooming

Aside from that is the lack of mental self defense that is taught. I REALLY go out of my way to stress that the number one thing that will keep you out of trouble or get you out of trouble is your self awareness and ability to fake it to make it. I encourage role playing in my classes. I do this by demonstrating. I’m not the ANGRY teacher showing techniques at MACH 100=worst case scenario. We start at level zero. Casual interactions and how things can build and how things truly can be diffused prior to anything having to be physically confrontational. How can someone really get out of being cornered or get a guys hand off their wrist without being physically aggressive? B/c here’s the zinger people.....once we do ANYTHING physically harmful to a man....it is GAME ON. There is no going back. And the chances of a female winning that game aren’t good. That’s a VERY last resort. The problem is that some females have 1- very poor self and environmental awareness (or impaired awareness due to drinking/drug use), 2- the inability or lack of knowledge how to get themselves out of a situation, 3- lacking the confidence to do so. One example: I show the girls how to get out of a rape position as if I was on a bed (I’m simulating this by laying on the mat with my head up against the wall and a guy is in between my legs and holding down my arms with lots of pressure on top). Besides the physicality of the ‘technique’...I have them problem solve mentally. I ask...what could I say to him? what might be a deterrent? what could be my body language? What might he be trying to do? I suggest they say things that are unpleasant like “I have diarrhea” or need to vomit and insist they need to use the bathroom right away. If need be they can poop on the guy (I mean the girls laugh but it’s true). Bottom line for me is that my class is full of discussion. I’m uncomfortable if there isn’t any. I’m also uncomfortable if it’s all about the violent ‘fight’ to get away from the rogue attacker the entire time.

Here is my thing.....people can dog on these video’s and other instructors ‘not doing things right’ all they want but I just can’t see it. What’s the point? My son plays college football....I don’t see him searching the internet for the latest video’s on bogus information being given out. It wouldn’t matter. I mean, At least with the self defense stuff they are showing something. Is it the best ‘move’? Maybe Not. If I’m getting choked and try to punch someone’s groin or stomp their foot instead of doing the proper defense will I pass out...probably. But you know what? No average female is going to defend their neck and table top a guy backwards ....I could list a few others defenses but it’s pointless. Techniques like that aren’t meant to be learned off a video. They aren’t meant to be learned and utilized after doing it one class or 6mths. BJJ techniques need to be trained consistently and religiously to be used effectively and efficiently. Self defense needs to be a lifestyle to pull off techniques that require dedicated training to be used correctly. That said, I believe any class is better than none at all. I say this b/c it’s no different than swimming. If I get in the water once....I’m not going to “know how to swim” but I’ll at least have an idea what I’m in for the next time I go and be a little less scared. Same goes for self defense. It opens their eyes to give them an ‘idea’ of ‘what it’s like’ on a VERY VERY low key level. Especially if it’s BJJ and having that ability to ‘feel’ what it’s like to be on the ground and have someone’s weight on you. Having the ability to know how you body responds...how it does and doesn’t move.....and what it REALLY requires to get out of such compromising positions (without a crazy person doing it to you). Every little bit helps....and it does improve that ‘self awareness’...hopefully it does ‘make them think’. Knowledge accumulates over time. As far as I’m concerned information isn’t completely worthless....at least it’s opening up the door for discussion.

What actually can be dangerous is the popular misconception that gadgets or “weapons” such as mace, whistles or little key chain trinkets used to cause bodily harm that you purchase for yourself or loved one’s can provide ‘safety’. B/c if there isn’t self and environmental awareness and they haven’t had the ability to actually ‘use’ those accessories....then they are useless. Don’t fool yourself. Don’t purchase these things and feel a bubble of protection.

One time my daughter was going to a concert and I give her a list of things she needed to do (for safety)....and she says “Mom..stop worrying. My friends mom gave us all mace”. I looked at her and said “really?!” The only person who is going to get hurt with that is you guys!”. Stop and think. If you haven’t used these things before the chances of you using them effectively are slim. When I have seen people open mace I’ve seen it drip onto their own hands and cause them injury. If the canister isn’t open the time it takes to open it wont allow it to be helpful anyway.....trying to use a weapon that you haven’t become versed in gives you a false sense of security.

And to every Man that believes females will walk around feeling invincible after one or a few self defense courses.....think again. That’s not how females are wired. Even decades into my training I still question myself, my skill and my abilities....I’m always aware of my person, my surroundings and what I’m doing and what could happen. Females by nature are more aware and concerned about things...we know we can be preyed upon at any time......but those “instincts” are something that can be dulled or we ignore with things like drugs, alcohol, friends/entertainment, lulled into a comfort zone due to a grooming process from someone you trust, or even just a phone. Anything that changes your perception or reality of your self awareness and the environment around you.

If you would like to train with me....I encourage you to email or FB message me. [email protected]. Let me know! www.Graciepa.com

youtube

#graciepa #3rdgeneration #3GBJJ #SheriHockman #femaleselfdefense #femalegrappling #sexualassault #selfdefense #RosendoDiaz

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winnieyylau · 7 years

Text

Reunited, for the last time

Characters/Pairings: Akutagawa Ryuunosuke/Nakajima Atsushi

Summary: For once, Akutagawa decided to strive for what's important to him.

The Shin-Soukoku ver. of this fic

~~~

“Dazai-san!” Akutagawa shouted as he entered the scene.

Both Akutagawa and Chuuya had rushed to where Fyodor Dostoyevsky―the culprit of all the disasters currently happening in Yokohama―is according to Dazai’s information. Expecting to simply act as a back-up, they didn’t bring more than a troop of men. After all, they were talking about Dazai, who might just be able to solve anything humanly possible.

But they were wrong. Never in a million years would they ever imagine that even the great Dazai Osamu would fail. The sight that welcomed them was quite a horrifying one. The brunet was unsteady on his feet, looking as weak as a kitten. On the other side of the room, there was the Russian guy they’re looking for, lying on the floor and laughing breathlessly. A book and some papers were scattered messily here and there.

The Mafiosos had yet to recover from their shock when Dazai suddenly collapses. Thankfully, the tall blonde guy next to him was quick to catch him. But that didn’t make them feel at ease at all.

Akutagawa was horrified. Though as much as he is concerned about Dazai, it was nothing compared to what the redhead beside him was feeling. Akutagawa glanced at Chuuya from the corner of his grey orbs. Chuuya was silent. He said nothing as he dashed to where Dazai was.

Akutagawa didn’t know why, but watching the side of Nakahara Chuuya that he had never seen before stunned him into silence as well. He stood there unmoving while listening to Dazai’s eplanation about their current situation.

The brunet’s voice was shaky and he was anxiously holding Chuuya’s hand the whole time. It was painful to watch, even for someone like Akutagawa who doesn’t seem to recognize how emotions feel like. But once again, he couldn’t even begin to fathom the pain in the redhead’s chest.

“Chuuya...” said Dazai, sounding uncharacteristically weak, tightening his grip on the other’s hand.

“What is it?”

“Dying alone is really sad, you see? But there isn’t any beautiful lady around.”

“What are you trying to say, mackerel-face?” There wasn’t any sign of venom in his tone.

“I’m thinking that even Chuuya will do for now.” Dazai chuckled. “So, marry me, Chuuya?”

The whole marriage proposal sounded like a joke. That is, if you can even call it a ‘proposal’. Normally, the redhead would shake it off since it’s stupid. But not this time. The look on Chuuya’s face wasn’t that of disgust. Akutagawa wasn’t sure how he’d describe it. All he could say is that Chuuya certainly didn’t seem to hate the idea.

“Say no more, bastard.” Said Chuuya in a voice so soft that anyone besides Dazai could barely hear. He then helped the brunet to stand on his own before giving him a ride on his back. Ready to set off before they were stopped by one of their forgotten spectators.

The dark-haired male was putting on an uneasy look. Seeing the heart-wrenching scene from both of his superior had suddenly reminded him of a certain someone. The person he’d least expected himself to think of in this near-death situation. The person that’s been getting on his nerve these past months. The person that has stolen the attention of his admired superior. The person he should be hating the most : Nakajima Atsushi.

“Wait, Dazai-san!”

“Yes, Akutagawa-kun?” replied Dazai with a limp voice. He gazed at the hand grabbing on his own arm. Then looked back at his ex-subordinate.

Akutagawa’s breathing was uneven. It was simple yet difficult to voice out his thought. But given the situation, he realized it was not worth wasting his time anymore. “Where is... Where is the Man-Tiger?”

Dazai didn’t answer immediately. He’s still as pale as ever, though amusement clearly showed in his eyes. Then a curve of smile formed on the brunet’s lips. “Atsushi-kun is still on the battlefield. No one could stop him so we had not other choice but to leave him behind.”

Akutagawa’s grey orbs widened in disbelief. He then uttered a quick thanks before storming out of the room.

Akutagawa ran down the streets, up the stairs, past the alleyways. Basically all around Yokohama, searching for the whereabout of the Man-Tiger, He didn’t know how long he’s been running. Nor did he care about his breath running out and the frequent coughing that’s been hurting his throat like hell. All those didn’t matter at the moment.

During all his running, various things related to Nakajima Atsushi flowed through Akutagawa’s mind. Such as what their first encounter was like. And then how Atsushi decided to face him head on for the first time. They beat each other up quite badly and had been on bad terms since then. When they met again after that, they were forced to team up, understand, and even fight alongside each other (though it was mostly schemed by Dazai).

Akutagawa almost laughed at those memories. Any good impression was almost nonexistant between them. So, why does Akutagawa have this kind of feeling toward the Man-Tiger? The kind of feeling which made him longs for the younger guy. Which made him think of what Nakajima Atsushi is doing, who he is with, and where he is when they don’t see one another.

The dark-haired male didn’t know emotions. He cared for no one besides Gin, his sister, and probably Dazai Osamu. But none of them showed Akutagawa how the world in the light looks like the way Atsushi does. That supposed-to-be good for nothing Man-Tiger taught Akutagawa Ryuunosuke how to love.

The Mafioso had reached the central of the town. He looked around. Finding out that the surroundings over there were much more horrible than the rest of the town. The buildings, cars, and streets were wrecked in havoc. Seemed like they were all destroyed with a great force.

Right before Akutagawa took a turn, a loud roar―most likely recognized of a tiger’s―was heard from nearby. The raven-haired speed up his own pace upon hearing that. A few more steps and he finally found what he’s looking for.

“Man-Tiger!” Akutagawa screamed his lung out.

The said younger guy turned around and what Akutagawa saw next broke his heart. All four limbs and the face of Atsushi had turned almost completely into that of a tiger. Ears started growing on top of his head. His teeth slowly turning into canines one by one. The dazzling light in those yellowish purple orbs had started to fade and replaced by sharp glint. He looked at the newcomer as if he wanted to devour him whole.

Without as much of a warning, Atsushi leaped from where he’s standing to Akutagawa. He was even faster than how he usually is on his best day. If Akutagawa hadn’t been quick to react, he might have lost his right arm.

“Get yourself together, Man-Tiger!” The dark-haired male screamed again. But it was futile. No words could enter Atsushi’s mind anymore.

The effect of the Book worked differently for each person. Atsushi’s Beast Beneath the Moon was making him stronger more than his body could handle before slowly turning him into a complete beast. Whilst Akutagawa’s Rashoumon was growing weaker each time he used it. It was already tough for him to keep up with defending attacks from Atsushi, let alone throwing any himself.

And the worst case of scenario just had to happen. Rashoumon stopped reacting all of a sudden. Atsushi took the chance when Akutagawa’s undefended to send him flying with a kick. Causing the older of the two to cough blood.

“Damn... Why does it have to be now?!” Akutagawa grumbled under his breath. At this rate he wouldn’t last any longer. Akutagawa gritted his teeth tightly. Wiped away the blood dripping from his mouth as he used up all the strength he could gather in his body to stand up. Meanwhile, Atsushi was bolting towards him, ready to finish him off.

“For the last time, listen to my order once again,” whispered Akutagawa before shouting, “Rashoumon!”

As soon as the words were spoken, Rashoumon was active again and back in action. It extended from Akutagawa’s coat and captured Atsushi’s limbs. At least he managed to stop Atsushi’s movement for now. Making good use of the little time he had, Akutagawa rushed to the younger gy and smashed him into a hug.

It wasn’t that easy though. Sure, the Man-Tiger is now in Akutagawa’s arms. But he tried to break free violently and roaring nonstop.

“Man-Tiger... no, Atsushi!” he exclaimed. And the said boy miraculously stopped moving. “Come back to your sense, you piece of shit! Who was it that had said he wanted to prove me wrong? That he’d make a bet with me of whether I’d like living in the light? That even someone like me could love like the way you do? You haven’t even seen the result yet and now you’re gonna leave just like that? Like hell I’m letting you do as you please!”

Silence filled the air between them. No one made a sound for god-knows-how-long until Akutagawa felt a stream of tears wetting his coat followed by a hoarse voice saying, “Aku... ta... gawa...”

Akutagawa felt like the burden on his shoulder was finally gone. He released the breath he’s been holding unconsciously. Rashoumon finally retreated and was gone for good. Leaving only the frail body of Akutagawa, who’s started coughing blood again.

“Back at last, huh, Man-Tiger?”

“Akutagawa... Akutgawa...” called Atsushi repeatedly. Tears streaming down his cheek nonstop as he hugged the older guy back.

A fit if coughs interrupted them. Akutagawa clamped one hand over his mouth―staining it with his own blood in the process―while the other stayed at Atsushi’s slender back.

“If I could, Man-Tiger,” said the Mafioso, releasing the younger guy from his hug and cupped his face with both hand. The blood on his hand mixed with Atsushi’s tears as he wiped them away from the latter’s face. “I’d like to see that stupid smile of yours again.”

It was pretty ironic how the usually cold-blooded Akutagawa could only be gentle when he’s on the brink of death.

Atsushi stopped crying and corrected, “Hey, my name isn’t ‘Man-Tiger’.” His tail and the ears on top of his head had grown fully. His face could hardly be called a human’s anymore. It was only a matter of time until he turns completely into a white tiger and dies. Even so, the smile he put on right at that moment was, by far, the most enchanting one Akutagawa had ever seen.

“Oh yeah, that’s right, Atsushi.” Said Akutagawa as he pressed their forehead together. A moment of silence again before the raven-haired’s leg finally gave out and he collapsed on the ground. Earning Atsushi’s worry.

“You alright, Akutagawa?!” Atsushi kneeled down as well to assist him.

“I’m just―” coughing again. “Nah, I’m fine.”

Concern hadn’t leave Atsushi’s expression, leading Akutagawa to find something to distract the younger guy.

“I can’t get used to you worrying about me.”

Atsushi was confused, but soon he realized what the other was trying to do. Having calmed down, the white-haired replied, “The same goes for you. You’re rather talkative today, aren’t you?” He adjusted their position so the both of them could sit comfortably.

“I told you before I’m not the mute type.”

“Still, you’re out of character.”

Akutagawa didn’t respond to that rightaway. His eyelids felt really heavy and his head was spinning like crazy. Though the Mafioso did a great job in hiding it. He kept quiet for a while before saying, “Lend me your lap for a bit.”

Atsushi had yet to answer when the raven-haired casually lays his head on top of his thigh. He might be hiding it well, but the other wasn’t exactly a fool either. Atsushi could, more or less, guess Akutagawa’s current condition already. The glow in his eyes softened as he placed one hand on Akutagawa’s forehead and played with his hair. Being extra careful not to hurt him with his claws.

“See? You’re at it again.”

“Yeah, whatever, Man-Tiger.” Answered Akutagawa, letting the former do as he likes and slowly closing his grey orbs.

“Why do you call me that again?”

“Can’t shake off the habit. So you’ll have to bear with it.”

“I wouldn’t want to get used to it if we have to stay together for a long period of time.”

Akutagawa was coughing up more blood again before answering. “Now that I think about it, I saw Dazai-san ‘proposed’ to Nakahara-san before coming here.”

“Wow, for real?” A look of surprise from Atsushi as he chuckled. “I don’t think they’d ever gone to such length given the normal occasion.”

Akutagawa snorted, eyes still closed. “I’d say the same for us.”

“Yeah, right. We’re nothing compared to those two though.” Atsushi moved his hand to stroke Akutagawa’s face. “All we’ve done is trying to kill each other.”

“I wouldn’t deny that.” Akutagawa’s voice sounded limp. Almost as bad as Dazai’s that he had heard a while ago.

“Oh, I should have finish you off just now. It was such a good chance.” Said the white-haired male jokingly.

“Shut up, Man-Tiger!” scoffed the older accompanied by another fit of coughs. “But I’d rather die by your hands than any other jerk though. Not even Dazai-san’s.”

“There you go about Dazai-san again.” Atsushi laughed. “I guess I’m kinda flattered to hear that?”

Akutagawa reached out his hand to hold Atsushi’s. “You should. Think of it as an honor.”

“Okay, okay. As long as you’re satisfied, yeah?” No answer. “Akutagawa?” Still no answer. No more answer from the Mafioso.

Akutagawa didn’t respond anymore. Warmth slowly left his body. His grip on Atsushi’s hand loosened gradually. Atsushi knew what was going on already. He kept calm and said nothing as he held the other closer to him. He stayed there unmoving as the time passed.

The next day, the government sent a team to Yokohama in order to investigate things regarding the incident. At the central of the town, they found the body of the lifeless Mafioso, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke along with an unidentified corpse of white tiger in his arms.

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#shin soukoku #akutagawa x atsushi #akuatsu #akutagawa ryuunosuke #nakajima atsushi #soukoku #dazai x chuuya #bungou stray dogs

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