#he really doesn’t fit in green hill

[sonicattos]

sonic prime (2022)

#shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #sth #sth fanart #sonic fanart #sonic prime #he really doesn’t fit in green hill #and he really does only fit in real life chicago #drew this in two seconds sorry #sonic prime spoilers

[kowaiitenshii]

[Wish We Never Met]

Pairing: Kylo Ren x Reader 

Plot Summary: You haven’t seen Kylo Ren since he destroyed the Jedi academy you both called home in your youth, and you want nothing more than to forget about him. That doesn’t stop him from reaching out. 

Warnings: Kidnapping. Kylo is his own warning. Angst? 

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Hello again everyone! This oneshot is the product of a betrayal prompt from a good friend of mine! If this does well and people enjoy it, I will be open to prompts and requests and if the demand is high enough, I may even write a part 2 for this. Thank you so much for all the love on Sunkiller Lullaby again as well!! Please enjoy! 

A perfectly clear night on Ossus, a rare meteor shower had been forecasted that night, and you didn’t dare to miss it.

You and your best friend, Ben Solo, had snuck out against your Master’s wishes to watch the shower together. 

It was once in a lifetime, after all. 

You couldn’t have thought of a better person to sneak out with, you’d known him since you were just ten years old; not that you had many other friends in the academy regardless. 

The two of you never quite fit in with the other padawan learners, having earned reputations for being too reckless, too quick to anger, too ready for a fight. But you found solace in one another, always sparring, studying, or shirking off your responsibilities to go on some ill-advised adventure together. 

As the two of you grew, as did your fondness for one another. Master Luke began separating you more and more, fearing that you would build ties too strong to sever. 

Attachment, of course, was strictly forbidden. 

But that did little to stop you from stealing away to see the person whom you were closest with in the entire world whenever you could.

The two of you laughed like the foolish teenagers you were as you ran through the lush green field littered with wildflowers together hand-in-hand, searching for the perfect spot to watch the show.

Cresting the top of the hill, Ben suddenly dropped  to the ground, pulling you along with him as you tumbled down through the long grass. As you came to a stop, landing on top of him at the bottom of the hill, you playfully punched him in the arm. 

“You really ought to be more careful Ben! We could have gotten hurt!” you scolded him, still laughing like mad. 

“You know I wouldn’t let that happen!” he reassures you, laughing back at you as you shift off of him and take a seat next to him in the tall grass. 

The two of you spent a long time in comfortable silence, watching the meteors shoot over your heads. It was an awe-inspiring sight, countless comets of every colour followed by their glowing tails lighting up the entire sky above. It truly was beautiful, and you were still unsure if you’ve seen such beauty since. 

You spent hours just watching, enchanted by the ethereal lightshow. 

That is, until you looked towards Ben, and instead of watching the beauty of the stars, he was watching you. 

Your breath caught in your throat, and your heart swelled in an unfamiliar way as you looked at him, realising in that moment that he had grown up, no longer the awkward, lanky boy you knew as a child. 

His eyes sparkled innocently in the dim light, reflecting the colours of the stars. His lips were pink and parted, as if to ask something that was caught just on the tip of his tongue. His long raven hair blew in the gentle breeze, tousled by your tumble down the hill. 

For a split second, you envisioned running your fingers carefully through his soft locks to fix it for him before forcing yourself to look away. 

Cheeks hot and heart thumping in your chest, you tried to remind yourself of the rules of the Jedi you so desperately tried to uphold. You knew attachment was wrong, and love could only serve to destroy you. And yet, the idea of a life lived without ever knowing love, that kind of love, left a hole in your heart that ached for it. 

Clenching your fists so tightly your nails dug into the palms of your hands and closing your eyes, you tried your hardest to push your feelings down, to bottle them up and seal them away. 

The gentle feeling of Ben carefully, almost sheepishly placing a large hand to your left cheek and turning you to face him snapped you out of your quiet rumination. The sensation of his touch was warm and tingling, spreading goosebumps across your skin like wildfire. 

Your eyes met again, Ben measuring your reaction, looking hesitantly from your eyes to your lips and back again, as if he too could sense what you were feeling. 

Given the tender, vulnerable expression that spread across his countenance, you knew that he could. The rough pad of his thumb ghosted over your cheekbone, your skin feeling electrified as he touched it, the energies between you rich and palpable. 

“(Y/N)...” He whispered your name like a prayer. 

Before he could speak again, you would take his face between your hands, crashing your lips into his in a moment of reckless abandon. 

They’re soft and wet, the feeling of the kiss itself and the mixing of energies setting you both on fire. 

You lose yourself in it, all teeth and tongue and burning desire, kissing him over and over again. 

Ben is just about to lay you down right there, in the soft grass beneath the stars, before you force yourself to pull away. Sitting up pin straight and wiping the spit away from your lips, you were too ashamed to even look back at him. 

The world goes black. 

The next scene that plays is the one that has torn you apart for years. 

Standing before the devastated Jedi academy you called home for nearly your entire life, you watched as it burned to ash. Tears flowed in rivers down your cheeks as you sobbed in agony of all that was lost, all because of the boy you loved. 

Falling to your knees, Ben’s name tore its way out of your throat in a grief-stricken scream.

Eyes flying open, you jolt upright in bed. 

You’re then hit by the same cold realisation that it was all a dream, as you are every time you have that dream. Although, you suppose it's more of a recollection than a dream. 

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you groan groggily as you spot the familiar silhouette of a man’s astral body across the room. 

“Ugh… Go away Kylo.” you moan, already becoming annoyed. 

Even if he wasn’t there physically, seeing him through the force hurt all the same. 

“You know I can’t, even if I wanted to.” he replies matter-of-factly, and you know it to be true. Whatever unseen force it is that binds you to each other, neither of you could control it. 

He haunts you like a ghost, torturing your very soul every time you would connect unannounced. His presence tonight is especially wounding, having been freshly reminded of the feelings you held for him despite everything. 

Throwing your covers off, you annoyedly begin to stoke the small fire pit in the centre of your hut, doing your best to ignore Kylo’s dark and magnetic presence looming in the shadows. 

“Where are you?” he asks abruptly, looking around the room and searching for any indicators of your location. 

You roll your eyes, finally looking in his face. His eyes are locked on you as he stands in the darkness of the room, the light of the flames illuminating his features. 

He’s every bit as handsome as you remember, all doe eyes and plump lips and strong nose. 

He’s gotten taller, and bulkier in terms of muscle than you remember, no doubt enhanced by his new training. Your heart strings tug painfully in your chest, and you remember why you avoid looking at him when this happens. 

“You know I can’t answer that.” you whisper solemnly in reply. 

“Why not?” he snaps back instantly.

“You know exactly why, Kylo Ren.” you sigh in irritation, spitting his name at him as if it tastes foul. You throw another log into the fire before standing and turning around, crossing your arms and doing your best to shut him out as your anger and frustrations build. 

“It would be so much easier if you would stop hiding, if you would just join me.” He continues, ignoring the vitriol in your tone and trying to coax the answer out of you. 

“I’m not hiding, Kylo. You just can’t find me. There’s a difference.” you scoff back at him, vaguely pleased when you hear him let out his own irritated sigh. 

You’ve been through this hundreds of times, your answers and his questions never changing. Everytime you speak to him, everytime you look at him, the void in your chest that calls to him grows wider. And with great pain every time, you deny him.

It’s torture, the purest form you could imagine. 

“You called to me. In your dream. I heard it.” he asserts in a gentler tone, as if it would change anything. You dig your nails into the skin of your arms in an attempt to temper the rage bubbling up inside of you. 

“I’m tired of fighting Kylo.” you sigh. “Can’t you see that? That’s why I’m here, in a hut in the fucking jungle.” you spit, an edge of hurt in your tone that you pray he doesn’t hear.

“Then why won’t you just come to me?” He tries desperately to persuade you. “I will take care of anything, everything you need. It could be so simple if you would just-” he starts on the same tirade that he starts every time you see each other. 

The fresh pain of the memories, the aching of your heart at seeing him, listening to the same argument; it’s finally all too much. The dam you’ve built to withhold your emotions finally breaks, your hurt finally overflowing as you spin on your heel to face him, screaming out the truth as you cut him off. 

“Because I love you, Ben! Because I love you, and you’ve destroyed everything else I’ve ever cared about! And I hate myself for it!” you bark at him through gritted teeth, hot tears welling up in your eyes and threatening to spill over.  

His brow furrows in frustration and shock as he yells back at you.

 “You know that isn’t the truth! I didn’t-” 

Clutching the sides of your head in frustration, you continue screaming, cutting him off once more. 

“Everyday I wake up and I’m forced back into the hell that is the realisation that this is my reality!” you gesture feverishly around the humble, run down hut in which you both stand, then between the two of you. “This is my reality, and I will never forgive you for it Ben.” your voice breaks, your anger spent and only leaving you with aching despair as the tears finally begin to fall. 

“I loved you, I really loved you.” you choke out between cries, the growing lump in your throat making it hard to speak. 

For once he’s silent, saying nothing as he looks upon you with widened eyes. 

He’s visibly taken aback, and the realisation finally hits you that you just admitted your love to him, and that you hadn’t called him by his name, his true name, since the incident that ripped you away from each other. 

He turns away from you, hiding the tears welling in his own eyes. 

“I don’t need your forgiveness.” he whispers, and you take one last look at him before he promptly vanishes. 

Left alone in the crippling emptiness of the hut you call home, you fall to your knees under the crippling weight of your sorrow, wracked with anguished sobs. 

Elsewhere in the galaxy, Kylo Ren wipes the stray tears from his face and steels his nerves, before throwing on his cloak and helmet. 

He could feel your presence even more acutely in the force now, the bond strengthened by your heated confession. It was certainly not one he had expected, but he had no doubt now that he would track you down.

All he would have to do is follow your signature. 

Your words were all the confirmation he needed as he stormed out of his personal quarters to gather a fleet, barking the orders to gather his knights at a commanding officer. 

If you refused to give yourself willingly to him, he would just have to take you. 

The next morning, you awaken suddenly to the sound of Stormtroopers blowing the door clean off of your hut. 

In an instant you leap to your feet, ready to defend yourself from any danger. Time moves in slow motion as you look out the door, the mass of troopers, fronted by the Knights of Ren  parting like the fabled red sea. 

Blood running cold, your heart drops to your feet as you lay eyes upon their leader who moves to the forefront, Kylo Ren.

You’re stricken with the awful, ice-cold revelation that he had used your bond in the force against you. 

It lead him right to you. 

Frantically turning to reach for a weapon, you’re cut short as a blaster hits you with a stun ray, rendering you unconscious. 

Your body falling to the floor with a soft thud, Kylo Ren strides over to where your body lay crumpled, just within the doorway, sighing regretfully. Crouching over you, he frowns as he softly brushes a lock of hair out of your face.

“It could have been so much easier.” he whispers like an apology, before carefully scooping you into his arms.

He takes a moment to look at you, admiring the beauty of his prize before carrying you onto his ship.

#ben solo x reader #ben solo x you #ben solo x y/n #ben solo x f!reader #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x female reader #kylo ren x f!reader #star wars x reader #star wars imagines #star wars imagine #kylo ren x you

[multi-fandomsfreak]

Hi I was wonder if I request tom wachowski with a goth sister and she comes and visits and the trouble trio absolutely LOVE HER because she’s so sweet 🥺

Tom Wachowski with a goth sister

Hey there thanks for the ask!

Honestly I’ve been feeling like shit for the past couple of days so seeing this ask actually put me in a better mood. Hope you enjoy it ~ J/Blaze

Pronouns: Not mention but reader is referenced to be female

Warning: ⚠️Slight mentions of Tails and Knuckles backgrounds in the second movie⚠️

Requested: Yes/No

Characters: Tom + Maddie + Sonic + Tails + Knuckles

Proofread: ❌

Credits: Poster belongs to Sega and the people who created the Sonic movie + Banner by adorbbs on Pinterest

———————————

- Let’s start this off with Tom absolutely loves you, your his sister of course he does. He doesn’t care what you look like or what you do, he's going to support you all the way just like you did for him growing up and defend you from anyone who bullies you about your style. Of course he’s not going to get physical because he’s not really that type of person but he’ll definitely give them a talking to.

- You two often like to hang out when you both have the time with him being a cop and all. Since you often like to come visit him this means that you get to see Maddie a lot as well and she absolutely loves you as well. She’s definitely impressed with your style and absolutely loves it. I feel like she’ll definitely hype you up about what you wear. She also really appreciates your kindness and how you are willing to help her with some stuff.

- Now onto the trio:

- For Sonic I have a feeling you’ve met him some point near the end of the first movie. At first you two were surprised with each other. You were surprised because there was this random creature who claimed to be a hedgehog standing in front of you and was talking to you. If it wasn’t for Tom and Maddie managing to calm you down you honestly thought you were hallucinating. As for Sonic he was mostly surprised yet interested in you. Like sure he’s seen some interesting people when he was totally not stalking the town of green hills but you're different. He honestly admires you in a way. And to think that your ‘Donut lords’ sister just makes it even cooler.

- He definitely opens up to you quickly, this is mostly because of how you are around him. You treat him so nicely despite him clearly being different from you. If you’ve seen the second movie he considers Tom like a father to him and I like to think that maybe he considers you as an aunt. He also may or may not called you aunt one time when you visited him and yes he may have gotten teased by Tom about it but honestly you didn’t even mind. You're just glad that he feels that comfortable around you that he called you that.

- He definitely asked you if he could try on some clothes and of course you let him. Although they clearly didn’t fit him due to the size difference between you two but honestly he didn’t care, he’s having fun with it and may even give you a little fashion show while he’s at it.

- For Tails and Knuckles they’re kind of similar. Both of them met you at some point after the second movie. They mostly likely met you when you decided to catch up with the other three unaware of tails and knuckles. As soon as they heard the door open and to Sonic happily going over to you excited to see you with Tom and Maddie following behind him of course they got curious and when they saw you they were immediately surprised.

- For Tails I feel like he’d be a little caught off guard when he first saw you. He wasn’t scared of you of course but just like Sonic he hasn’t really seen anyone like you. But despite the initial surprise from him he actually kind of admires you. He really likes how you're open about your style and not really caring about what people think about it. He really appreciates that.

- Again just like Sonic he opens up to you quickly as well. Maybe even quicker than sonic. Since he didn’t really have anyone back on his planet seeing how kind you were to not only him but other people makes him kind of want to be around you 24/7. He really likes it when you visit.

- When you do visit over he really likes to show you his gadgets that he created and hearing you saying how cool it looks and how smart he is he couldn’t help but feel really happy that you enjoy them. If you're willing to listen he’ll explain in a lot of detail about them, even if you don’t really understand certain terms he’s saying. Seeing that you're listening to him explain it is enough for him. Maybe if he has the time he might make something for you. As a way of saying thank you.

- For Knuckles as mentioned in some of my previous posts, it takes him a while to open up to people even if they’re the kindest person in the world he’ll have trouble opening up to them. If you consider his backstory in the second movie it’s honestly understandable why. But despite this he’s actually really interested in you. Unlike Tails who may be caught off guard or for Sonic who was initially surprised when first meeting you, Knuckles surprisingly took an interest in you. But despite this he’s still a bit cautious of you so he kind of admires you from a distance. Eventually Tom notices this and somehow manages to convince Knuckles in one way or another to talk with you. This then eventually leads to him being more open around you.

- He’s kind of the same like Tails when it comes to being around you. He’s definitely very attached to you although not as open compared to Tails but still it’s kind of obvious that he is even if he doesn’t directly say it to you. Due to this he can be protective over you. If someone even dares look at you the wrong way or comments on your looks he’ll tear one into them before you eventually have to take him somewhere else.

- I feel like after hanging out with you just like Sonic he kind of sees you like an aunt due to you being related to Tom and how kind you are to him. Maybe accidentally called you aunt as well and Sonic may have teased him for it but quickly gets shut down but Tom when he said he did the exact same thing.

- Overall, although they show it differently all of them really appreciate you.

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#sonic the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog x reader #sonic series #sonic series x reader #sonic movie #sonic movie 2 #sonic movie x reader #tom wachowski #tom wachowski x reader #maddie wachowski #maddie wachowski x reader #sonic x reader #movie sonic #movie sonic x reader #movie tails #movie tails x reader #movie knuckles #movie knuckles x reader #x reader #platonic #request

[violettduchess]

A/N: This is my gift for @readerinsertfanfiction 💜 The moment I saw Cyran on your list, I was thrilled. I hope you enjoy!

A huge thank you to @ikemenlibrary for her support and friendship and for being a generous, caring host 💜

Prompt: A servant, someone who knew Cyran from before his time in Rhodolite

Cyran x AU Emma

WC: ~4k

Obsidian: the Past

She runs across the cracked, sunbaked cobblestone streets, her treasure wrapped in a cream-colored tea towel and held protectively against her chest. Her worn leather shoes make a pleasing thunking sound against the stones as she hurries past dusty shop windows and faded porches, carefully dodging people on the street.

“Langsam, Emma!” someone yells as she flies past but she doesn’t listen to their warning. She can’t slow down. She has somewhere to be.

Finally she reaches the edge of town and takes a sharp left, leaving the cobblestones behind for a ribbon of dirt road that winds its way along tired hills covered with sparse sage-green grass and dotted with scraggly yellow dandelions. Another turn onto an even smaller path, a faint thing that meanders through the knee-high growth and then, finally, the faded barn comes into view. 

She smiles, pumping her young legs harder, willing them to swallow the distance faster and faster until she reaches the peeling, splintered wooden doors and haphazardly flings one open.

“Cyran? I’m here!!”

The boy, just shy of fourteen, turns away from the wooden beam he has been faux-sparring with, lowering the dull, well-worn practice sword he is so proud of. His hair gleams like fire in the hazy sunlight that shines through the pocked roof. 

Emma hurries over, gulping down huge breaths of musty air as she grabs his thin forearm.

“C’mon. I’m dying to see how they taste.”

Cyran laughs, struggling to sheath his sword as she drags him over to the blanket thrown over the hay in a cozy corner of the barn. This is their favorite place to meet, an escape from the outside world they discovered several years ago while exploring. It is here that Emma sometimes reads to him from one of her treasured books. She’s even shared stories she’s written, romantic tales of princesses and dragons, knights and monsters. Cyran is always the hero, the knight who slays the monsters and rescues the damsel in distress. Emma will change her roles in the stories. 

Sometimes she needs rescuing. 

But sometimes, she is the dragon.

Often they sneak treats to each other, hard biscuits or smoked meat or, if they are really lucky, sweet berries brought across the border from the lush neighboring country of Rhodolite. Cyran’s neighbor is a servant for some of the merchants that make the risky trips over and when he’s lucky, she manages to tuck away a few treasures just for him.

He settles himself down on the frayed checkered blanket and pushes his bright hair away from his forehead, eagerly watching as Emma drops down next to him, laying the tea towel down. Her face is flushed from her run and from the thrill of what she’s managed to bring him.

“Ready?”

He nods, enthusiastically motioning for her to unwrap it already. He has hands that are too big for his young body, growing the way many boys do at this age, in odd fits and spurts. 

Emma leans forward, pushing up the sleeve of her too-big dress and carefully pulls back the edges of the tea towel.

The smell hits them first, the warm spice of cinnamon, the tang of nutmeg, the slight bitterness of the cloves, the unmistakable scent of ginger. It wafts up towards them, exotic and tempting. Cyran breathes in deeply and then sighs happily as he looks at her, eyes bright and admiring.

“It smells so good.”

Cyran had carefully been saving up the exotic store of spices, some of them gifts from his neighbors, others decadent purchases made at the market from his meager earnings made mucking stalls and chopping wood. He knew that Emma would be the one who would create something special with them. Young as she was, she was a talented cook and baker, able to make the most fantastic treats out of the simplest ingredients. And now that she had been given such a treasure trove to work with, she had spun pure magic.

The spiced biscuits are dappled dark brown and gold. When she hands him one, it is with a reverence that echos a priest giving communion or a child receiving a shiny new toy at Christmas.

Their gazes meet and she nods.

“Together.”

He returns the nod, staring into the warm depths of her soft brown eyes.

“Together.”

They bite into the cookies at the same time. Emma breaks into a proud smile as Cyran closes his eyes, savoring the medley of flavor and even better, the knowledge that she made them just for him.

“It’s good, isn’t it?" she asks, grinning. She sees the look on his face, the way he is practically melting with enjoyment.

He lifts his shoulder in a casual shrug, feigning indifference.

“I guess……”

“What?!”

He takes another bite, leaning back on one hand. “I mean, they’re ok. But you know, Hilde’s biscuits are also really good–OOF.”

She’s tackled him, throwing herself at him with all the force of a frenzied feline, her nimble fingers scratching at his sides. Cyran breaks into laughter, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and tries to squirm away from her.

“Ok ok Brown Eyes, enough!”

Emma lets him go, sitting back on her heels with a glowing, triumphant smile.

“Never say that about Hilde’s cookies again.”

He pushes himself up, heart pounding furiously in his chest. Only some of it is from laughing. He tears his gaze away from the unsettling beauty of her eyes, traveling up to her hair.

“You’re a mess. You got straw in your hair and your braid is a disaster.”

Emma turns and scoots until she is sitting in front of him. “Since it’s your fault….you fix it.”

Cyran heaves a sigh he doesn’t mean and then settles himself into a comfortable position, reaching forward and with a tenderness and care far beyond most boys his age, begins slowly picking the straw from her messy plait.

Emma’s eyes drift closed as she revels in the attention he’s giving her, the gentle way he untangles her braid and then very slowly begins brushing his fingers through her soft, chestnut-colored hair.

It feels comforting and safe.

It feels thrilling.

It feels like the early evening has come to a standstill and they have all the time in the world.

But their time together is like a rose slowly losing its petals.

A petal falls as he tells her, wide-eyed and shaken, that his neighbor has been killed in her own home, throat opened in the dead of night and left smiling its ghastly red smile until she was discovered hours later. Emma rubs his back, not knowing what else to do. This is not the first death in their village as of late. And it will not be the last.

A petal falls as they lay, side by side, on the blanket in the hay, staring up at the patches of starry sky visible through the holes in the roof. “My parents are scared,” she whispers. He turns his head to stare at her profile and knows it isn’t just her parents who are frightened. “I’ll protect you,” he whispers, voice fierce with youth’s naïve promise. Her gaze remains on the silver stars but she reaches out, taking his hand and squeezes it.

A petal falls as she comes to their favorite spot, face pale as bone, to tell him that her family is leaving. Her father has contacted distant relatives that live far to the north, as far from Rhodolite and the dangers it poses as one can get. Cyran feels like his young heart may break right there in his chest and he will be forced to live the rest of his life with its pieces rattling around inside of him. Though filled with dismay, Emma’s eyes are as beautiful as ever. They shine with tears, rivaling any star they have ever spent time gazing at.

A petal falls as she rushes through the dark, on the night before her family is to leave, her throat burning with feelings she can’t quite name, waves too strong to try and understand for fear they will sweep her away. She bursts through the barn doors and finds him already there, his hair dark as garnet, damp with sweat. He has spent the entire day doing heavy labor, removing heavy wooden beams, hauling ancient and broken equipment, sweeping the dusty, straw-strewn floor. Several lanterns placed around the interior bathe the space in warm, yellow light. The barn is as clean and inviting as he can make it. He wanted to give her one more memory, something beautiful, that she can take with her on her journey away from here. Away from him.

Emma is frozen in place, soaking in all he has done, before finally stopping on the young man at the center of it. He’s breathing hard, his chest rising and falling unevenly. Already his shoulders carry the hint of what manhood will bring him: strength and breadth. Arms that with training will turn hard and sculpted, legs that will lengthen until he is taller than most. He is the faint beginning of what he will become. Emma wonders wildly if she will ever get the chance to see the finished masterpiece.

“Emma,” he says, his voice raw and rough, deeper than she has ever heard it.

She sets down the bundle she is holding, the one she carried so close on the way here, leaving it on top of a weathered wooden barrel.

“Cyran,” she answers, her muscles tense, like a fawn when it hears a crunching in the underbrush.

He starts forward, one hesitant step and that is enough. She flies towards him, throwing her thin arms around his neck and buries her face in his worn linen shirt, clutching him to her. There is power in her small frame, something fierce and bright, a hurricane in crystal. Cyran holds her close, his eyes closing as he breathes in her familiar scent. He’s been teased his whole life because of his last name, but she is the one who reminds him of a rose, who always smells so sweet.

The anticipation of loss that has them clinging to each other slowly ebbs and something else, something that has been burning low and quiet in every laugh, every touch, every glance begins to emerge. She is suddenly aware of the press of her chest against his, of how much taller he is, the earthy smell of his skin. She leans back to look at him and sees the same awareness mirrored in his dark eyes.

Outside a rooster crows, loud and discordant.

Cyran turns his head toward the sound and Emma, sparked by the frantic knowledge that she must leave, grabs his chin, pulling him back to her and rises onto her toes, pressing her lips to his.

It is a sunbeam bursting through gray clouds. A spark breathing life into a pile of dried leaves. It is hope and promise and wonder.

And heartbreak.

With a stifled cry, she steps away, turns and flees the barn, not wanting to see the look on his face as she leaves, not wanting that to be her last memory of him.

Cyran watches with a thundering heart as the door swings shut. Flooded with helplessness and misery, he notices the bundle she left behind. Tenderly he lifts it, undoing the sky-colored ribbon. It’s her favorite handkerchief, white with pale blue forget-me-nots painstakingly embroidered along the edges, and nestled inside are several of her spiced biscuits. His favorites.

Rhodolite: The Present

Rhodolite is so much MORE than she expected. The streets are wider and cleaner and lined with greenery, more trees and flowering bushes and grass than in the entire garden of the palace in Obsidian. There are more people than she expected too, many standing under awnings and lampposts, peeking through windows and around doorways, watchful eyes in beautiful faces following the royal procession as it makes its way towards the palace. 

When she had been told by the Head Chef that they would be accompanying Prince Gilbert and his entourage to Rhodolite, Emma had felt a familiar ringing through the cockles of her heart. Rhodolite is where Cyran was rumored to have ended up. Whispers from the south had traveled her way, over the many years since they parted. He had joined the army when he was of age. He had left Obsidian for the verdure of Rhodolite. He was employed by one of the Princes there. Crumbs of information she had managed to gather, hoarding them tightly like precious drops of mana. 

He may not even be here, she reminds herself as her tired gray mare plods along down the street. She and the other servants are at the end of the procession and most of the people have turned away, not interested in anything but the dangerous Prince Gilbert with his sharp smile and blood-red gaze. 

Still, Emma finds herself scanning the crowds as they pass, looking for any head of red hair. She spots a few but they are never him.

As the overwhelming elegant palace suddenly rises towards the heavens before her, she draws in a sharp breath. 

We’re here…….

…….Is he?

The palace looms closer, a breathtaking monument of pale beauty.

And if so….how in the wide world will she ever find him?

Cyran runs a hand through his thick mass of russet hair as his long strides make quick work of the pathway towards the training hall. It’s late evening and the young, freshly-minted knights are at the end of their training and he needs to make sure everything went well without him there. He knows Lucian is more than capable of leading them through their drills but Cyran has a responsibility to make sure. They are all under his charge.

Entering the hall, he sees several of the knights laughing in a corner. Some are sitting and catching their breath, others are pushing the heavy sandbags they sometimes train with back into their storage room. What he sees reassures him. They look tired and sore, yet satisfied, faces bright with the feeling of accomplishment a tough training session will leave behind.

He’s about to go look for Lucian, expecting a full report when he notices several of the knights standing by the wooden table at the far end of the training circle, the one usually covered with straps for shields and rope and other odds and ends. They’re smiling, far too widely to be discussing anything so mundane as weaponry. Several are chewing. He approaches the table, greeted by his men with smiles and respectful nods. Immediately he notices the tin: it’s round and black, covered with decorative golden swirls. 

“What’s this?” He glances towards the first knight at his left, a tall lad with sandy blond hair.

“They were brought here by an Obsidian servant. She said they were a present for us.”

Cyran frowns, a skeptical look on his face as he reaches inside the tin for one of the golden brown cookies.

“And you didn’t think to–” He was going to ask if they thought accepting gifts from strangers was a good idea when the scent hits him, cutting through the sweat and musk of tired men.

The warm spice of cinnamon, the tang of nutmeg, the slight bitterness of cloves, the unmistakable scent of ginger.

He goes still, the breath knocked from his lungs.

Could it be…..

Something in his face hushes the men around him. They watch, curious as Cyran lifts the cookie and takes a bite. 

The man who sees everything, ever watchful, closes his eyes as he chews and the knights are transfixed by the absolute stillness that has overtaken their leader.

And then those eyes open and something in them has begun to burn, bright and alive.

The other half of the cookie falls to the dusty ground as he turns on his heel and, practically jogging, exits the training area, leaving behind the half-eaten biscuit and a slew of surprised faces.

The rose gardens are somehow even more beautiful in the twilight of evening. The red petals seem to have darkened, shedding their bright rose-red for a sultry scarlet. Shadows emerge from the trimmed hedges, stretching across the winding stone pathways, giving a visitor like Emma glimpses of hidden benches and secret dirt paths leading into clandestine corners of the gardens.

She has taken several of these more narrow, less-trodden paths, not at all afraid of getting lost. Her heart is a bird, flitting between dark branches, full of a nervous, tightly-wound energy she can’t quite explain. 

As the sky darkens to a deep navy blue and the first stars open their eyes, Emma pauses in front of a gray stone fountain. Two swans, nuzzling their beaks together, bodies curved towards one another as a blossoming flower rises above them, water spraying outward in celebration. She tilts her head, the romantic in her sighing at the way the two swans perfectly mirror one another, two halves of a whole, two souls in perfect harmony. So enchanted is she by the fountain that she doesn’t hear the footfall on the path, doesn’t notice the man who has stopped several meters away from where she is standing, the sight of her freezing him in his tracks.

“Emma.”

She jumps at the deep voice, her eyes wide and dark as she turns towards the sound. The owner of said voice is standing, half in shadow, at the place where the small path to the fountain begins, beneath a shadowy arch of crimson roses. She is so startled, she doesn’t even register that he has said her name.

“Oh….s'il te plaît, excuse-moi,” she says quickly, doing her best to remember the phrases of the common language spoken in Rhodolite. “J'espère que ça va…” She trails off, trying to remember how to say she hopes she is allowed to be here but the man takes another step closer, leaving the blanket of shadows and stepping into the fading light.

Even the dusky hue of evening cannot hide the red of his hair.

A gasp as soft as the flutter of a bird’s wing escapes her. The young boy she knew juxtaposed against this tall, broad man before her sends her heart into a tailspin. Her hand flies to her mouth as she takes him in. She sees the same bright light of recognition and admiration and overwhelming emotion plain as day on his beautiful face.

“Cyran?” The word is a whisper, a breathless repetition of the name she has kept in her prayers for decades.

His eyes never leave her, almost as if he has the power to hold her there with his gaze, to keep her from vanishing into the realm of his dreams where she has lived for so long. Slowly, he reaches up and loosens the laces at the top of his tunic. His hand slides inside and when it emerges, he is holding a small square of cloth. As he slowly opens it, her heart falters.

It’s white, with pale blue forget-me-nots embroidered around the edges.

He holds it out to her, his chest rising and falling with every deep breath he takes. That handkerchief has lived next to his heart, in an inner pocket, one he has sewn into every shirt he has ever owned since the day he watched her leave.

“I think…..this belongs to you, Brown Eyes.”

She chokes back a sob, unable to contain the thunderstorm of emotion coursing through her and runs to him, falling into his arms as naturally as a willow bends to the wind, tears falling freely down her cheeks. Cyran wraps his arms around her, sheltering her, holding her the way he has imagined a thousand times. His throat burns with all the words he has ached to say, all those sleepless nights spent remembering the lilt of her smile, the music of her laughter, the bittersweet taste of her kiss.

Emma squeezes her eyes closed, breathing in the scent of him, at once so familiar and yet so strange. Her arms wind around his waist as she presses herself against him, drinking in the sensation of his body on hers. 

This is Cyran….her Cyran…..her….

A thought pierces her heart as she suddenly steps away from him, eyes wide, still so beautiful as they glimmer with the remnants of her tears.

“Oh…I…I didn’t mean…..you could be married. I shouldn’t have-”

His laughter is coarse, rough with emotion, a roll of rushing water as it careens over the lip of a cliff.

“As if I could ever love anyone else.”

Love…..

As if summoned by the very word, the moon itself parts the soft gray clouds, flooding the small section of the garden with silvery light. The tinkling of the fountain fills the momentary silence. 

Cyran’s cheeks suddenly flush, a hot mixture of embarrassment and panic overriding the elation of the previous moment.

“I…..I don’t mean to presume of course that you feel the same. It has been a long time and…..” He trails off, wincing. Fluster is such an uncharacteristic state of being for Cyran. “Ah, shit. I’m sorry. I–” 

His words are cut off as Emma launches herself back into his arms, hugging him fiercely.

“Please, don’t apologize.” She tilts her head up to look at him, still in awe of how she sees the young man he was and the handsome man he has become in his beautiful eyes, in his exquisite face. “It has always been you.”

Cyran drags air into his lungs, hardly able to believe he isn’t dreaming. His rough fingers capture her chin, his thumb running over the sensitive skin just under her lower lip. 

Slowly, he leans down as she stretches upwards, eager and nearly trembling with emotion. 

He kisses her, his hand still cupping her face. Gently his mouth moves over hers as he tells her a wordless story of longing, of a bruised heart that learned to somehow keep beating. 

He kisses her, a strong arm pulling her closer, his lips and tongue weaving the tale of a young soldier who never forgot the girl with the tender heart and radiant spirit. The soldier who dreamed of her face during his darkest nights and longed for her laughter on days of sunshine.

She meets him, kiss for kiss, stroke for stroke, sliding her palms along his broad shoulders, clutching him as she answers his tale, confessing without words how he has never left her heart. How his smile was her light in times of worry and despair. How seeing him again has been her northern star from the moment of parting.

Only the moon knows how long they stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, lost in each other’s yearning.

When they finally part, Cyran rests his forehead against hers, still keeping her tightly in his embrace. He may never let go again.

“You’re….in the employ of Prince Gilbert. I am here.” He frowns ever so slightly as he brushes several loose strands of hair away from Emma’s charmingly flushed cheek. “This could get complicated.”

Their gazes meet and she nods.

“Yes…..but we’ll figure it out.”

And suddenly he is carried back in time to an evening when her eyes shone just as brightly, just as excitedly, a young girl with something to give a young boy, a homemade cookie, an offering of love.

“Together.” 

Her voice echoes across the years, that word wrapping itself around his battered heart, a balm, a blessing.

He returns the nod, staring into the warm depths of her soft brown eyes, tenderly stroking the silk of her hair, and answers her now as he did back then. 

“Together.”

Tagging: @xbalayage @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @namine-somebodies-nobody @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating @portrait-ninja @queen-dahlia @themysticalbeing @nightghoul381 @whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @bubblexly @wordycheeseblob

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri cyran #cyran rose #ikemen cyran #ikepri cyril #cyril rose #ikemen cyril #my ikemen valentine gift exchange #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfic #violettwrites

[heckinconfusedparade]

@sr200916

The First Thunderstorm

It’s been 2 weeks since Robotnik’s attack on Green Hills. The Wachowski’s just got the giant hole in the house and fence repaired, and there’s a new garden shed shipment coming in any day now.

Tom and Maddie didn’t expect they’d be taking in 2 more kids, so there’s been stress on them to get all new things for Tails and Knuckles, and figure out the rooming situation. Lucky for them, the rooming situation was easily solved; it was literally one of the first things the boys talked about after Tails and Knux decided they were going to stick around and join the family. Knuckles decided he was going to stay in the basement, and Sonic and Tails would share the attic for a “really really long sleepover” as they call it. Tom and Maddie were a little iffy with those two sharing a room due to Sonic being a 14 year old teen who needs privacy, but those two didn’t budge on their decision. The two agreed that privacy was important for both of them, so Tails decided to make a retractable wall in the attic so that they would have that privacy whenever they like.

At this current moment, Tom, Maddie, and Knuckles are all in the basement cleaning things out and making space for a bed n stuff.

Sonic and Tails are up in the attic. Tails saved Tom and Maddie money by building his own bed. Sonic convinced him to have a plane bed to match his racecar bed because he thought it’d be cool. He’s right, it is cool! Tails already transferred his belongings to the attic faster than anyone thought he would because he was just so eager to get out of that orphanage. Now he’s happily making that wall. Sonic is helping where he can, but he’s mostly just watching. He’s amazed with how easy the kit makes it look; almost like it’s second nature.

Sonic notices the dark clouds rolling in through the ceiling window, and waves to get Tails’ attention, “hey buddy, can you just check that ceiling window is locked?“ Tails’ gaze follows Sonic’s pointed finger up at the ceiling, seemingly just now noticing that was there. Tails flies up and makes sure it’s locked, and once he’s sure he stares out at the clouds for a moment. The kit feels uneasy, but he forces it down and says “it’s locked!”

“Thanks! One time I forgot to lock it and the wind blew it open in the middle of a storm. It was like someone attached a shower head to my ceiling!”

“Do you have to run up the wall to reach?”

“Sometimes. Other times I drag a big ladder through the entire house.”

Tails laughs at the thought of Sonic’s tiny self dragging a giant ladder up 2 flights of stairs, and the loud banging it would make. He flies back to the track he’s fixing onto the ceiling that he later plans to fit the moving wall on.

Sonic is passing some tools up to Tails when they hear a loud boom from outside. Sonic and Tails both react to the thunder by lifting their heads to look out the window. Then they go back to what they were doing. Sonic notices that Tails is looking very tense. The smooth fluent movements Tails had before was replaced with tense rigid movements as he begins to rush through the project.

“Uh, Tails, are you ok?” Sonic never thought to ask Tails about his thoughts on thunderstorms. He’s not too fond of them himself, but he’s gotten a lot better since he moved in with Tom and Maddie. Tails looks like he’s trying really hard not to crack, and it’s worrying the blue hedgehog. Tails only whispers “I’m ok..” in a way that makes it seem like he’s telling it to himself, rather than as a response to Sonic’s question.

There’s another boom, followed by a flash of lightning that fills the room. That startles Tails enough to drop his wrench on Sonic’s head. Sonic grunts as the cold wrench connects to his noggin, and he holds his aching head in pain. Tails swiftly floats down to him, “oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?!” he inspects the damage from above, really hoping Sonic isn’t mad and doesn’t want to be his friend anymore. That worry alone freaks Tails out even more than he already was. Sonic winces and looks up at the fearful fox “I’m ok, don’t worry about it. I’m not bleeding, am I?”

“…no.”

“Then I’m ok!” There’s a genuine tone in Sonic’s voice. He’s really not upset, which puzzles Tails. With that worry out of the way, that leaves behind the other worry.

The worry comes in the form of another flash of lightning. Tails tries to hide his fear, but Sonic noticed the look in his blue eyes. The hedgehog gently holds Tails under his arms so he’d stop flying. Once the namesakes had dropped, Sonic places Tails on his feet. Tails’ efforts to hide his fear is completely ruined because his tucked tails give it away. He avoids eye contact with the elder, now also embarrassed. Sonic’s expression shifts to worry, “you’re afraid of lightning, aren’t you?” he asks as softly and as comforting as he can, trying to not make it possible to mistake his tone for a teasing one. Tails is about to deny this ridiculous accusation when another boom of thunder and lightning sends the kit up into Sonic’s arms. Sonic his heart begin to hurt feeling this poor kid tremble in his arms. Tails realizes how vulnerable he just made himself and quickly retreats under his bed.

Sonic, who is now shocked and confused heads to the side of Tails’ bed and peeks underneath it. The fox had curled himself into a ball.

“Buddy?” The ball of fluff doesn’t respond, so Sonic keeps talking, “why are you hiding under the bed? It’s dusty under there.”

“‘cause.” Says a a little voice.

“‘Cause why?”

“Because you’re just gonna tease me…” Tails’ tone is defensive, but his voice is shaking, indicating he’s started crying.

Sonic blinks and lets out a small nervous chuckle “what? Why would I tease you for being afraid of lightning?”

“Everyone else at that place did… they all told me to suck it up and that I’m being ridiculous.”

Sonic sits down on the floor next to the bed, now wondering how much more to Tails’ story there is. Everything he’s heard about where this kid came from sounds absolutely awful. “You’re not being ridiculous,” he says “I was afraid of lightning too. I spent most of my life living outside, so I had to sit through a lot of storms like this one. I’ve seen what lightning can do. I would never, ever, make fun of you for being afraid.” Sonic sticks his hand under the bed and soon feels a little hand hesitantly hold it.

“I’m still not great with storms, I’ll admit that.” Sonic normally doesn’t admit to being afraid, but he has a new responsibility that he didn’t have 2 weeks ago. He now has a little brother to support, comfort, guide, and protect. He never had someone to hold and comfort him when he was scared until under a year ago. Sonic is going to make sure this kid knows that someone is always going to be there to hold him when he’s scared.

Tails slowly crawls out from under the bed with his blue eyes now red and puffy from his tears. Sonic pulls a blanket off of Tails’ bed and wraps it around the little fox.

“Thank you,” Tails manages to crack a small smile, “you’re the bestest friend ever…”

“Hey, you’re not just my best friend. You’re my brother. We’re family now, Miles.”

Tails looks at his brother with wide eyes, “you consider me..” he pauses “y-your brother?” Tails is aware he’s part of the family now. It was a big discussion with everyone involved, and yet the reality that he has brothers now hasn’t quite set in fully. Sonic calling him his brother made that reality slap him him in the face. He has a family now. A real one who loves him.

Sonic almost laughs, “of course, buddy!”

“Sonic?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I hug you please?”

“Cmere, dude.” As soon as Sonic opens his arms, Tails dives right into them. Those golden arms squeeze Sonic like if they were to let go he’d disappear and never return. Tails is still scared, that hasn’t changed, but he is so very grateful for all of this. He wonders what he did to deserve such kindness..

A few moments later, Sonic is sitting crisscrossed with his blanket wrapped little brother sitting in his lap, snuggled up to his chest. Tails has decided that bro cuddles is his new favourite thing. With the way Sonic has his arms wrapped around him, Tails has never felt more safe and secure. He feels like if he stays here, nothing can hurt him.

Sonic has tasked himself with keeping Tails distracted from the storm. He already feels accomplished because the kit has stopped trembling and he’s gotten Tails to smile a few times, and even laugh with jokes. The lightning and thunder is bothering him less and less.

Sonic has no idea how to be a big brother. But with what he’s doing right now, he’s sure he’s finally doing something right.

#sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #sonic the hedghog movie #tails the fox #sonic 2 #movie tails #sonic #movie sonic #tails wachowski #sonic wachowski #unbreakable bond #sonic and tails #fluff

[bexorok]

Ideas I have for Rouge and Amy if they’re in the next movie because I’m so normal about this (and I really wanted to share them with @welcome-to-green-hills )

Rouge:

- word traveled fast through the galaxy back to Mobius that the master emerald and chaos emeralds were found on earth, and that’s the opportunity of a lifetime for a world renowned treasure hunter like Rouge 👀

- This gives her a reason to go to earth in the first place and have it narratively make since

- she and team dark (Shadow, Stone, Robotnik) coincidentally find a chaos emerald at the same time

- A fight scene ensues before Robotnik convinces her to join them. She helps him find the chaos emeralds, and she can have the master emerald when it’s all said and done

- Unlike Knuckles, Rouge doesn’t have quite the same moral compass. She definitely has some standards, but for the most part she’s willing to do what it takes to get what she wants. She also isn’t as easy to manipulate, and figures that Robotnik will most likely back stab her at some point

- She sees that shadow is different though. She’s the first person to really get close to him, and she realizes that he’s angry and set on revenge, but he shares some of her own moral standards (ex: in sa2 shadow saves rouge when she’s trapped on an island that’s about to explode when he could have left her behind)

- She’s the closest thing to a friend Shadow has at the time

- When the countdown to the Ark colliding with earth starts, she’s the first one on team dark to get on board with an alliance

- She’s also the most upset about Shadows sacrifice (besides Sonic) and shares the guilt that she couldn’t help him

- Afterwards, she becomes an agent set on dismantling GUN once and for all

- She still operates by her own rules, but the Sonic gang still sees her as a valuable ally (and even potentially a friend)

- Bonus points if she flirts with knuckles and it goes right over his head

Amy:

- Rouge wasn’t the only one that heard about the master emerald being found

- I think that it would be cool if there was a linage of hedgehogs that could control the power of the chaos emeralds without being corrupted or having to use the master emerald

- This is important to Amy, as she sees it as part of her own heritage. She’s learned the legends of how their power works, the history behind the war of the echidnas and owls, etc.

- To connect to her character in the games, I think that fortune reading could also be an important aspect of her heritage

- She isn’t sure at first if she should go to earth to seek out the emeralds, until one day she receives a fortune that someone related to the emeralds would need her help

- She goes to earth looking for whoever might be connected to the emeralds, and she doesn’t have to look long. By the time she gets to earth every news station is reporting on how an “alien hedgehog” had been arrested and is in government custody, and she’s like “that’s probably the guy that needs help”

- She breaks into the prison at the same time Tails and Knuckles are breaking in (Que the Spider-Man pointing meme)

- She just has to simplify it down to “long story, but I’m here to help” because she still doesn’t exactly know what she’s supposed to help with

- Breaks down the prison walls with her hammer, earning instant credit with Knuckles

- Sonic makes a comment along the lines of “what is it with random people showing up saying they’re here to help me???”

- She fits the team dynamic perfectly and banters with them naturally

- Bonus points if there’s awkward flirting and pining between her and Sonic

- She becomes the main source of information on the emeralds, as most of Mobius though the legends were just myths

- She’s the first on team Sonic to realize that there’s more to Shadow than they initially believed

- Sonic definitely sympathized with him, but Amy is the first to discover the extent of what happened. I’m thinking she discovers a security tape on the Ark raid and is able to hear what Shadow promised to Maria

- She realizes that Shadow had forgotten the promise because all he could remember was the moment Maria died in front of him and nothing leading up to it (cries)

- After she reunites with Sonic (post being shot via space capsule) he realizes that he can’t stop the Ark on his own and would need Shadow to help, as he’s the only other person who can use the emeralds power, but he confides in her that he doesn’t know if he can convince him

- This is Amy’s moment to shine. She tells him the way she sees how he never gives up, that she admires that he can always see the best in people and bring them together, including how he helped bring herself, Tails, and Knuckles together, and that if Shadow would rally behind anyone, it was him

- That’s when she realizes that her fortune wasn’t just about helping Sonic, it was about helping Shadow

- She races off to find Shadow and tells Sonic to “just find the emeralds and meet up” with them

- She finally confronts Shadow in her big speech, not just about giving humanity a chance, but encouraging him to remember what he said to Maria

- “I know it must hurt to think of her. It must be awful to remember what happened, and it’s tearing you apart. But remembering our lives with the ones we’ve lost is how we honor them. Please, try to remember what happened before the end”

- That’s when his repressed memories finally return, after he finally lets himself think of her. Their life together, them dancing in the hallways, them laughing together, them drawing together, them looking out over the earth together.

- And the scene we’ve all been waiting for. He’s trapped in the space capsule, unable to get out. Maria tells him how much she wishes she could go with him, but she couldn’t survive on earth. She makes him promise that he’ll give humanity a chance, to explore earth and protect it, and most importantly, to give the people of earth the same hope he’d given her (*crying*) and of course, that he’s her brother and she loves him (😭😭😭)

- Then, the inevitable. Before she can pull the leaver, a soldier walks in and commands her to step away. She uses every ounce of courage to defy him and pull the leaver, only for the sound of a shot to ring out as the camera cuts to shadow, witnessing the moment it happened before he’s shot into space

- Amy was right, it hurts to finally confront those memories, but it finally gives him the clarity he needs. He thanks her before rushing to meet Sonic and make good on his promise

- She’s also absolutely distraught when Shadow doesn’t make it back to the Ark

- Afterwards, I think she would decide to become a permanent member of team Sonic, inspired both by Sonic and Shadows act of heroism

- It would be neat if Rachel took a liking to her and decided to take her in. I know a lot of people imagine if Shadow survived she would take him in, but I think it’s more likely he would choose to be alone for a while, and I think Rachel would have a soft spot for Amy as she reminds her of JoJo.

- JoJo is of course excited that her mom has accepted these quirky little aliens as part of her family, and even more excited when they decide to move to Green Hills to be closer to them :)

- Amy is just as excited to be an older sister figure and to have a part in their family

Sorry this was so long, once I started writing the ideas just kept coming and I couldn’t stop typing

#sonic #sonic 3 #sonic movie #sonic movie 3

[thislovintime]

Peter Tork’s first house, at 6416 Rodgerton Drive in Los Angeles: (photos 1 & 2) in 1967 and in 2011; Stephen Stills inside the house (photo by Ann Moses); Peter in 1967 (photos by Henry Diltz).

About photo 3 - “Steve Stills of Buffalo Springfield, a close friend of Peter’s, looks at a place of interior decorating by Monkee Davy, who has taken a number of ‘Davy Jones stamps’ and spelt out the word LOVE on the wall just inside the front door.” - Ann Moses, NME, August 10, 1968

"Davy Jones is an acknowledged practical joker: and he kept up his image when he returned from his vacation. The Monkees event three weeks at RCA Studios recording their new album. One night after a sessions Peter invited Davy over to his house and while Pete was getting something to eat Davy pasted Davy Jones stamps all over his dining room wall! You can see Pete’s best friend, Steve Stills checking them out on the left." - Ann Moses, Tiger Beat June 1967

“[At Peter’s house I] found the Davy stickers on the wall, put up by — I, in fact, I took a picture of Steve Stills standing next to the… and he had put the Davy stickers up, and he had put it, all the little stickers so they spelled Davy, and that was on the wall at Peter’s house. So I always thought that was really cute. But [Peter] lived very — you know, he had thrift-store coffee tables and things like that.” - Ann Moses, The Monkees Pad Show no. 10

* * *

"When Peter went looking for his first home he thought of ‘hills and cool green.’ He found them here. Pass through the open front door and you will see the dining room table and the floor-to-ceiling windows that look out on the city lights below. Here on the top floor are the living room, dining room and kitchen… and no matter what time of day or night you enter Pete’s home, the room is always dimly lit with candles and incense is burning. The kitchen, currently stocked with health foods, is to the right and to the left is the living room, the main feature of which is the two single beds that fit into the corner and double as sofas. Whereas green dominates the outside, orange is the feature color indoors because Peter feels it suggests warmth and goes well with candles and quiet. Between the beds is a heavy coffee table that matches the walnut of the color television set across the room. You can actually stand on the table — it is so heavy — and when there’s a crowd in the room the easiest way to get through is walk along it. There is a fireplace against one wall, where a fire is often burning. And the only thing here that doesn’t fit with Peter’s ‘natural’ feel is that he uses artificial logs because they burn more smoothly. The easy chairs in here are sculptured Danish modern and sit next to two huge amplifiers of the stereo system and beside Peter’s electric organ. Behind the sofas, on the wall, is a series of calendar posters called ‘13 ways of looking at a Blackbird’ — each one has a free verse like ‘on two snow-filled mountains, nothing moved but the eye of a blackbird.’ They were a gift of which Peter is very fond. The ground floor lacks the excitement of the upper one, having just two bedrooms and a bathroom. One bedroom is Peter’s, the other is for guests, and neither is decorated. Other bits of info about the house… in the kitchen are walls with paper flowers… there is another favorite poster of Peter’s, a present from his friend Steve Stills of Buffalo Springfield, showing a man and a woman hugging on a deserted beach… and as you walk in the front door to the right Davy Jones has spelled out the word ‘Love’ in big letters using ‘Davy Jones stamps.’ […] A typical evening at Peter’s is spent listening to/or playing music. Group discussions about everything from music to Eastern religious interests captivate Peter. His gatherings are usually spur-of-the-moment things where he’ll call up a few friends and say: ‘Come on up to my pad.’” - Ann Moses, NME, August 10, 1968

“As you walk in the front door of my house, directly across the room there are floor-to-ceiling glass windows that look out onto a small balcony and the green hills. At night you can look out on the lights of the little valley. It makes it very pleasant during the day with the sunlight streaming in. There are a couple of wall lamps, but the socket on one is burned out and the other lamp fell down off the wall, so all the light is by candle. There is no lighting except by candle and I even read by it. I enjoy the colors candles throw off." - Peter Tork, Monkee Spectacular, July 1967

“It’s really groovy at Peter’s house. People just come over and we talk or sit around and watch color TV. We don’t have any favorite programs, we just mainly like the color TV. Sometimes we mess it up so there’s dots and flashes, it’s like our own light show. I’ve learned some things about Peter that I didn’t know before, like he likes to live in a cold house. ‘72 degrees is plenty warm enough,’ he says. He doesn’t like the heat turned up. Also, he loves Chinese food, but he doesn’t cook if he can help it. He much prefers to be ‘cooked for.’ There’s usually a parade of fans every afternoon up at the house. They come up to the door and whisper ‘Is Peter here?’ and then they run away. If he’s home he’ll go out and sign some autographs, but he’s not home that often. He’s usually working. We often sit around and play guitars. His favorite song right now is ‘Strawberry Fields Forever.’ The groups we’ll listen to are the Spoonful, the Beatles, of course; the Mamas and Papas; and Peter digs the Springfield. When we’re not playing music or listening to music, we’re usually picking things apart — groups, ideas we hear from people, pieces of music, each other’s brain.” - Stephen Stills, Tiger Beat, July 1967

“Most of the people who live with him (there are seven now) have known Peter for years. Since money has no value to him, he lavishes his money on his friends. Peter has spent thousands of dollars just helping, with no thought of getting repaid. (That much has changed — a few years ago Peter couldn’t give much more than a sympathetic ear.) With all those people living with Peter now, he has very little privacy, but apparently it isn’t missed. Everyone at the house is working and ‘doing their thing,’ and the house is a simple, unpretentious, very lived-in home. As one person living there puts it[,] ‘It’s a happy, productive household, so full of love you can’t quite believe it.’” - Judy Sims, Disc and Music Echo, May 11, 1968 (x/x)

“Last week we went to Peter’s house to meet him. He had some friends over, but he came out and talked to us. He looked so groovy, and he was twice as friendly and nice as we’d ever expected! He talked with us, took pictures, and signed autographs. We’ll never forget that day, and we just want to thank Peter for making that day the most wonderful in our whole lives! L.E. and S.M. Los Angeles, Calif.” - Monkee Spectacular, March 1968 (x)

#Peter Tork #Tork quotes #long read #Stephen Stills #The Monkees #Monkees #Ann Moses #Judy Sims #1960s #60s Tork #1967 #1968 #Monkees fans #very long read #Peter's Hollywood Hills house #more about Peter's second house next Friday #Tork houses #Monkee Spectacular #Tiger Beat #Disc and Music Echo #NME #can you queue it

[my-little-corner-of-hc]

Ok but tossing some thoughts/hc I have putting them out into the world about touchstarved.

Leander: Has some major greed vibes going on with all the green going on his palette it doesn’t help that he has this way of even if you try to say no such as touching his hand he’ll still make you do it. Man will get what he wants regardless but he doesn’t do it in a scummy way but in a very charming way which is fucking terrifying because something like that takes practice and knowledge and we get little hints that he’s had other escapades before so you know he’s had time.I also took time to look up the Oroborus symbol of his earring because I only had vague memories from FMA about it but some places are saying shape shifting is a key element so makes me think that Leander short of makes himself appear differently for different people. I don’t mean psychically but he short of molds him self to the group he’s in and endear himself to different people. But this is a very shady view of this character mind you take with a lot of salt because we legit only had say with me folks one chapter so it’s easy to make things bigger or smaller in your head when you have little to go on.I might be making mountains out of mole hills here.Try to keep your hype in check so you don’t get disappointed.

Ais : there’s clearly more going on the biggest factor is going to be what happened to his group was the pact he made because they where in danger or killed or were they killed by his pact.Clearly Ais is a character that has a lot of hidden depth as on face value it’s very easy to write him off as but the classical otome bad boy with a heart of gold. When in reality he hasn’t done anything that could be considered bad in classical way. Y e s he has done bad things like threaten us but he doesn’t fit the mold of being a rude or stand-offish. Rather as a man that hurts people he views as deserving of it as he didn’t hurt us even going as far as stoping us from showing him our hands when we really show to be uncomfortable with that but beating up the rough neck that threatened us. In fact I feel it’s a bit of the inverse he wears his emotions on his sleeve but maybe over years or just life learned to ether keep in check or down play them for his own and other’s safety keep people at arms length. I find it interesting that they chose a monster of all races to be the warlock of the group seeing as monsters seem to be more physically capable than humans, but that’s just the vibe it’s not really stated in lore yet or anything just a vibe. And it shows how anyway no matter how powerful can fall for the allure of power or an easy out.

#touchstarved #leander touchstarved #ais touchstarved

[druidgroves]

Chapter 13: It's All In the Game

Fandom: Fallout 4 Words: 7,475 Characters: Georgia Tate (Canon Divergent Sole Survivor), Nate, RJ MacCready, Nick Valentine, Conrad Kellogg Notes: content warnings for graphic-ish descriptions of gore? canon standard tbh but just thought i'd give a heads up :) enjoy ! read on ao3 / read on tumblr

August 28th, 2075. 7 PM.

The place Nate ends up taking her to is a dive bar near some place called Fort Hagen, a military base, one he tells her he spends lots of time at with his friends. Its patrons were mostly servicemen, which was how Nate found out about it and it isn’t exactly prime date material in Georgia’s mind, but he reassures her that it’s a fun place.

“Something is always going down there,” he says, and he’s cute enough that she lets it slide. It’s only one date; she might as well see where this goes, right?

On the drive there, she learns that he’s been out of the military for a few months now, and picked up a job as a line manager in his uncle’s Corvega factory. He brags about being one of the only managers who likes to actually be out on the floor with the guys, and she’s able to spin it as him being dedicated to his job. He blows past a stop sign on a thankfully empty street when he grins over at her in the passenger seat.

“Aren’t you the little optimist,” he says, one hand on the wheel and the other on the arm rest between them. “I’ll have to tell that one to the boys at work next time they give me shit.”

“I’m a brightside kinda gal, what can I say?”

“That you are,” Nate agrees. “You’ll fit right in at the bar. They’ve got a jukebox, karaoke, a pool table. You’ll love it.”

“Pool?” Now he has her attention; she’s been pocketing 8-balls since she was thirteen, but he doesn’t need to know that. She plays coy, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “I’ve always thought pool was fun.”

“Oh, really? You’re a woman after my own heart, Miss Walker.”

Georgia beams back and sits pretty beside him, hair done up in curls and her best dress already riding up her legs. He drives a cherry red Corvega Blitz with a creamy leather interior that sticks to her thighs in the late summer heat. That detail is not lost on Nate, whose eyes dart to the exposed skin before she artfully smoothes out the fabric. His scarred lip twitches into a self-satisfied smile as he pulls into the parking lot. Up the hill, Fort Hagen itself looms ominously despite its spotlights. Georgia can’t help but wonder what goes on inside a building as imposing as that; probably nothing good, she decides, and definitely not as entertaining as her date is about to be.

Things inside the bar are much more inviting, loud and raucous with music spilling out of the promised jukebox and people dancing across the floor. Georgia hopes that Nate is a dancing kind of man, her hand already tapping the beat against her leg. She doesn’t want to speak too soon, but if it goes well, maybe a club and a good band would be a nice second date. She’s about to ask him if he dances when a group of men at a table in the corner catch sight of him amongst the crowd and begin to shout him over.

“Hey, let me introduce you to my friends really fast,” Nate says, already steering her in their direction.

Georgia attempts to hide her frown. Maybe she jinxed it. “I’m sure they’re nice, but…I thought this was a date.”

Nate looks down at her, eyebrow raised. “It still is. They were gonna be here anyways, might as well say hi, right? C’mon, they’ll love ya.”

Hm. Georgia could appreciate a man who maintained his friendships—surely that was a green flag. Nate ducks down and whispers next to her ear, “Besides, it’ll give me a chance to show you off, huh?”

This gets her blushing, pink from her hairline down to her collarbones. Well, she certainly wouldn’t mind that. She puts her best face on as they approach.

They see Nate first and greet him warmly, clapping him on the shoulder and offering him a seat. Georgia steps out from behind him and before Nate can introduce her, one of his friends nods at her over his beer and asks, “Are you gonna tell us who this fine young thing beside you is, Tate?”

Georgia doesn’t hide her frown this time and goes to open her mouth before Nate opens his first.

“Hey, knock it off,” he tells his friend seriously. “I’m a gentleman tonight. You should play along.”

Another friend laughs and derides him, “Just tonight, Natey? Is your broad aware of that?”

The men descend into a round of obnoxious laughter, but Nate just waves them off while Georgia crosses her arms in contempt. He puts an arm over her shoulders and turns them away from his friends, leaning down to talk to her again.

“Don’t mind them,” he tells her. “They’re already drunk and trying to give me shit. I think they’re just jealous. Who can blame them? Out of that teacher get-up, you look gorgeous.”

Her brow furrows deeper. “Those are my regular clothes.”

Nate must sense he’s said something wrong, because he readjusts on the fly. “I mean to say, you look sexier without a dress code holding you back. Better?”

She will admit, his petty appeals to her vanity are working in his favor. She decides to let him off easy.

“Better. Now, let’s turn this back into a proper date, shall we?”

Nate acquiesces to her and finishes up with his friends, then guides her towards an empty pool table.

“Now,” he says, pulling out his wallet and flashing a few hundred dollar bills that catch Georgia’s attention as he pulls out his driver’s license, “how’s about I grab us a few drinks and I teach you a thing or two about pool?”

Her eyes flit from his wallet to his face and she perks up, unable to stop the mischievous little voice in the back of her head telling her to take him up on it. When she smiles, it’s saccharine-sweet.

“Sounds great. You get the drinks and I’ll grab us some sticks?”

Georgia spends some time inspecting the pool cues, finding two without much warping or worn tips. She chalks her own but doesn’t touch Nate’s until he comes back with the drinks—she doesn’t presume to tell a man how to handle his stick, both on the billiard’s green and off…but she can give a couple pointers.

“You shoot with an open bridge?” she asks conversationally after he makes the break shot. Nate looks at her, raising an eyebrow over his bottle of Gwinnett. She mimics the shape with her hand and he nods. She gives him a playful look. “I thought you were gonna teach me a thing or two about pool?”

Nate laughs, but she can sense a touch of stung pride, just enough that it gives him more of a competitive drive. Georgia can’t say she doesn’t delight in riling up her competition.

“So you were just pulling my leg earlier,” he says, then sets her with a daring look. “Alright then, let’s play some damn pool.”

They play the game and he commends her for her trickshots and doesn’t even seem upset when she sinks all of her balls and calls the winning pocket for the eight ball at the end. In fact, he looks downright eager to get her to hustle his friends for money. So he sends her back over to their table and she plays the part of Nate’s innocent little tagalong, asking them if they want to join in on their game. A few take her up on the offer, sharing looks between themselves like they’re just humoring her. She catches Nate’s eye as they walk back, sharing her own sneaking look with him as he casually asks his friends if they want to put money down on the game. For fun, he says. They agree and soon enough, the game begins.

By the end of the night, Georgia has five grown men nearly snap their pool cues when they are forced to empty out their wallets. As a team, she and Nate had done pretty well, even if she had done most of the work.

Her latest victim sneers, throwing a few crumpled bills on the table. “Bullshit beginner’s luck.”

“Maybe so,” Georgia shrugs, chalking up her cue again, “but then that still means you lost to a beginner, so what does that say about you?”

The man, Jacobs, sneers at her. “Tate, if you don’t control your lady—”

Nate steps between the two of them, putting a hand firmly in the center of his friend’s chest.

“Get a fucking grip, Jacobs, it’s pool,” he snaps.

“And she cheated me out of my last dime!” Jacobs all but shouts and Georgia suddenly feels that maybe hustling people at pool in a military bar wasn’t their brightest idea.

Nate, however, looks entirely unbothered. All he does is give the other man a flippant shrug. “And? You’re the one who put it down. No one forced you to lose at pool.”

“And no one asked you to bring her to our bar,” Jacobs counters and glares at her over Nate’s shoulder. “The little bitch is a cheat, and I can pr—”

Georgia isn’t even able to get an astonished “excuse me?” out before Nate’s fist connects with Jacobs’ nose. Jacobs stumbles back, wiping the blood from his face and doesn’t pause before he charges Nate, nearly pushing him into her had she not stepped out of the way in time. She puts herself safely on the other side of the table as the two men descend into a brawl. She wants to stop them, yells at Nate to do so, but she can’t put herself between them so all she can do is watch as the punches fly.

Nate fights like a caged animal, going for any weak spot he can see and hitting them more often than not. She has a front row seat to the rage now coursing through him, teeth bared and fists bloody as they wail on each other. Jacobs catches him in the cheek but then Nate has him pinned to the pool table in front of Georgia, slamming him down on top of it. The man’s face is a patchwork of black, blue, and red as Nate holds him down by his shirt. He leans down, close enough where only he, Jacobs, and only incidentally Georgia, are able to hear.

“You don’t get to disrespect me and mine just because you’re a sore fuckin’ loser, alright?” he mutters and something in his words makes a warm, fluttery feeling start in the pit of Georgia’s stomach.

Nate spits on Jacobs’ chest before letting him go. When he looks up and sees Georgia standing in front of him, however, all the fight leaves him at once. His face goes pale and that’s when the both of them realize just how many eyes are on them and the silence that now pervades the bar. The fluttery feeling is quickly replaced by embarrassment and Georgia makes the executive decision to hurry the two of them out of the bar before they’re kicked out. She goes around the table, takes Nate’s arm into hers, and leads the two of them out with her head down. As they leave, his muscles are still taught in her grasp.

Once they’re standing next to his car in the parking lot, Georgia turns on him, hands on her hips.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Nate leans back against the driver’s side door and doesn’t meet her eye, just pulls his cigarettes and a lighter out from his pocket. He lights up and takes a drag before speaking to her.

“He called you a bitch,” he says, blowing his smoke into the wind and it tickles her nose. “I didn’t like it. What, did you want me to stand there and let him?”

Georgia puts a hand on her forehead and sighs. On one hand, she’s pissed. This is categorically not how first dates were supposed to go, and she had been on enough to know. She’d had high hopes for the charming man that had walked in and picked up his nephew from her classroom that afternoon. Now, she was standing beside a man who would fistfight one of his friends at the drop of a hat. She can’t help but replay the fight in her mind and as she does, that same fluttery feeling comes back as she recalls what Nate had said to Jacobs. Me and mine.

On the other hand…

Watching him go from zero to a hundred in half a second, all on her behalf…well, no one had ever fought for her like that. First date or not. All that anger and power emanating from him…that had been because of her. For her. Something about it, as terrible as she should find it, makes her reconsider if this date–this man–was a total loss.

Her silence must make Nate antsy, because he speaks up again and this time looks her in the face.

“I didn’t want you to see me that way,” he says, and reaches out to touch her. When she doesn’t move away, his hand runs down her arm until it's holding hers, and he squeezes it with an infant’s strength. “I just…it’s like the anger gets loud, you know? And it’s all I can hear. It was stupid to let it get the better of me. I’m sorry.”

Out in the parking lot, half-lit by street lamps and out of the bar, Nate doesn’t look so imposing anymore. Slouched beside his car, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, and a bruise rapidly forming across his cheek, he appears regretful. And, Georgia can’t help but notice, increasingly attractive.

“You’re right. It was stupid,” she agrees, going to lean against the car beside him and he looks down at her with a furrowed brow, “but no one’s ever fought someone for me. It was…kind of nice, almost.”

Nate laughs and puts an arm around her, pulling her close. She leans her head onto his shoulder and looks up at him.

“You’re one surprise after the other, Miss Walker,” he says and she grins. “Might have to keep you around.”

“Just don’t make it a habit, alright? I can handle bein’ called a bitch a time or two, it wouldn’t be the first time,” she tells him, and plucks the cigarette from between his lips to steal a drag. “Besides, I don’t think we’ll be able to come back here for our second date. I was hopin’ you were a dancin’ kind of man.”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “You’ve cleared me for a second date already? Color me surprised.”

“What can I say? I guess I have questionable taste and a thing for men with a solid right hook,” she jokes, only half meaning it, and he throws her that smile that got her to agree to all this in the first place before he takes his cigarette back.

They stand there for a little while longer, smoking cigarettes until Georgia says it’s getting late and they should both go home. They sit in his car a while longer, though, dragging out the date minute by minute until, by unspoken agreement, they decide to get a little hot and heavy in the backseat of the car. When they kiss, she’s careful of the bruise on his face and even softly presses her lips against it. Things escalate from there, a fire in Nate’s eyes, but Georgia doesn’t let him past the first five buttons on her blouse at first, per her own dating rules. He does get a hand up her skirt about halfway through and she allows it, so whether or not it counts as putting out on the first date is up in the air.

After, Nate drives her back to her little apartment a few blocks from the school, and very politely asks if he can kiss her goodnight outside her door despite the fact that he had her moaning his name not even an hour earlier. Flushed from hairline to collarbones, Georgia invites him in under the guise of getting him some frozen peas for his face, and if they end up between the sheets, well.

Georgia thinks she can bend her own rules, just this once.

-----

January 31st, 2288

When Fort Hagen comes into view after hours of chasing Dogmeat’s nose, past wild mutated bears (yao guai, Mac had called them) and a decimated assaultron, Georgia almost has to laugh at the irony. Just down the street are the ruins of her first date with her dead husband and before her is the foreboding tomb she may or may not find her son in. She hasn’t been the praying type in a long while, more so after waking up two hundred years in the future, but she throws a little mental prayer to anyone listening anyways.

The sky above them had been gray since they left Diamond City that morning, making vague threats of rain from the north that hadn’t yet come to pass. Dogmeat ends his tracking at the boarded up doors to the fort and barks once.

“I knew Dogmeat could sniff our man out,” Mr. Valentine says from her left. “Let’s you two and I take it from here, give our four-legged friend a break.”

Georgia bends down, knees popping, to give the hound a rewarding scratch behind the ears. “You did your part, boy. Stay out here while we find a way in, okay? Good boy.”

Dogmeat barks again like he understands—at this point, she’s pretty sure they have some kind of mental link from how in tune they are—and lays down, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

“Front door isn’t an option, and even if it was it wouldn’t be the smart one,” Mac says, attempting to look around for another entrance.

“There’s scaffolding around the side, maybe this place has rooftop access,” Mr. Valentine says, so the three of them seek it out, only to find several automated turrets on said roof that put a bead on them almost as fast as he can shuffle them back down the platforms.

Mac offers to take them out, reminding her of the training yard job, but when she reminds him they should probably keep a low profile, he surrenders to her point. It’s only when she spots the parking garage connected to the building that she remembers they usually have interior entrances. It’s surprisingly deserted when they get down there, and almost like a light at the end of a tunnel: a door, lit by a single emergency light amongst the darkness. When she puts her hands on the crash bar and it begins to open, she pauses.

“You ready?” Mac asks from beside her. She swallows.

“You don’t know until you know,” she says, and presses forward.

--

The synths scattered among the inside of Fort Hagen are Gen 2’s, according to Mr. Valentine. Metal and plastic like him, but without his sparkling personality, as he put it. Georgia’s been lucky enough that she hasn’t crossed paths with many of them since she thawed out, and those she did, she and Preston had steadfastly avoided. Now, with their hollow, robotic voices echoing off the crumbling walls around her, it sends chills down her spine. They’re damn good shots, too, because by the time she, Mac, and Mr. Valentine clear the floor, they’re all sporting new holes in their coats and multiple plasma burns of near misses from their energy weapons. Mr. Valentine seems the most well-off, all things considered, while she and Mac quickly patch up the burns on her thigh and the one on his arm.

The further they go, they manage to find an elevator that provides the only way forward. It takes them below the surface and it reminds Georgia far too much of the vault. She tries to push it out of her mind as they press forward past another handful of synths, a turret, and a few easily disabled trip wires. For a moment it all seems too easy, like the three of them are just blowing through minor threats before rolling up to the big one, wherever he is. But then something crackles along the hallways, like a classroom intercom, and Georgia is sent back to cold metal and glass, thin air, and Shaun’s wailing cries. She nearly trips going down the stairs.

“If it isn’t my old friend, the frozen TV dinner,” a rough cadence says, echoing down the never ending hallways. “Last time we met, you were cozying up to the peas and apple cobbler.”

“Whoa, careful now,” Mr. Valentine says as he catches her by the elbow, looking around for the speakers.

“That’s him, that’s his voice,” Georgia says, her own voice trembling and her legs feeling like they’re about to give out from under her. She’s not ready. “Mac, Mr. Valentine, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can, Georgia,” Mac says firmly from the other side of her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “We didn’t come all the way here for you to turn back now. If he’s here, let’s go find the bastard.”

“Take it slow, one step atta time. We’re right behind you,” Mr. Valentine nods, readjusting the grip on his gun.

Georgia bites down on her lip to keep it from quivering. The speakers hadn’t come back on and she consoles herself with the fact that she has one of the best guns in the Commonwealth beside her as well as its best detective. One she trusts implicitly and one she trusts enough to help her see this through. She resolves to press forward. Mac was right; she didn’t come this far to only come this far.

Once she’s able to keep going, they take out a few more of Kellogg’s defenses and when his voice crackles overhead again, she isn’t as caught out by it. She can’t stop the shaking in her hands, though, shotgun wavering in her grip.

“Sorry your house has been a wreck for two hundred years,” Kellogg says, snarling when he adds, “but I don’t need a roommate. Leave.”

The words continue to bounce around her skull as they push open a set of metal double doors, opening up to some sort of command center. It’s like a game—they snuff out a few more Gen 2’s, Kellogg comes over the speakers to taunt her. She feels like a rat in a maze, the man who tore her family apart the mad scientist watching her every move.

“Hmph. Never expected you to come knocking on my door. Hell, I thought the Commonwealth would have chewed you up like jerky if you even made it out of that old neighborhood alive,” he muses, voice no less like sandpaper across her face even through the speakers. “What a surprise you turned into.”

Eventually Georgia’s fear morphs into anger and frustration. The closer they seem to get, the further away Kellogg seems. A game of cat and mouse, except the cat sends minions to do his work for him. She takes her rage out on a couple of Gen 2’s and hopes Mr. Valentine doesn’t take it too personally.

“Look,” the mercenary says after Georgia’s shotgun blows apart the plastic skull of yet another synth in front of her, “you’re pissed off. I get it. I do. But whatever you hope to accomplish in here? It is not going to go your way.”

She can’t help it; the pressure builds and she screams back at him, something deep and raw from within, “Fuck OFF.”

Mac and Mr. Valentine jump at her intensity, so on edge for everything else around them that they don’t expect it. There is fire and fury within her now that she can only do so much to keep contained. She thinks, briefly, of how much she can relate to Nate right about now. That only makes her angrier and she does away with the thought as she does away with the next synth that crosses their path.

They descend further into Fort Hagen’s depths and Georgia doesn’t want to dwell about how far underground they must be. Surely not as far under as the vault, but with the walls closing in around her as they enter a red-lit tunnel, she can’t really tell the difference. It knocks the wind out of her sails, her breathing starts to thin and she can barely get the words out to ask her two companions for a moment. She tries to grab at the walls around her for purchase when her knees buckle again, Kellogg’s voice ferrying her through what must be the start of a panic attack.

“You’ve got guts and determination, and that’s admirable. But you are in over your head in ways you can’t possibly comprehend.”

Faintly, over the sound of ringing in her ears, she can hear the mechanical voices of more synths around the corner, and Mac tries to yank her back into a standing position.

“We can’t stop here,” he tells her, an ironlike grip on her arm, “we have to keep moving.”

And they do, though every one of Georgia’s footsteps feels heavier than the last and her vision is tunneling and her chest feels too tight. Mac and Mr. Valentine take care of most of the synths, because all she can focus on right now is trying to push ahead. Her hands still won’t stop shaking long enough for her to aim her gun.

“It’s not too late,” Kellogg says, enticing her to give up already. “Stop. Turn around and leave. You have that option. Not a lot of people can say that.”

She’s caught between wanting to bolt and being so desperately close to her son’s kidnapper as the three of them come upon a red door.

“We’re close,” Mr. Valentine says, sniffing the air for something neither she nor Mac can detect yet. “I can smell that old merc’s cigars…”

Past the red door is what Georgia can only assume was an office for whoever commanded Fort Hagen back in its heyday. Now, it’s full of all sorts of tech and pristine, anachronistic furniture and smelling of cigars. There’s a bed that looks like it belongs more in a hospital than an old military fort, just as out of place as the rest of the furniture around it. It’s almost enough to jolt her out of her spiraling until the speakers come on again.

“Okay, you made it. I’m just up ahead. My synths are standing down. Let’s talk.”

A set of maglocks on a door across the room slide open. The man who took everything from her is just on the other side.

Georgia fights the urge to flee and the pent up energy just redirects back to the anxious jittering of her hands. Fingers try to disappear under her sleeve, but have a hard time getting under Mac’s bandages. She doesn’t even register him coming to stand beside her until her quivering hand bumps into his and she latches onto it like a lifeline. He’s a warm, steadying presence beside her and doesn’t even flinch at her white-knuckle grip. The shaking starts to fade.

She turns to him, and he meets her with a steely look as he nods. To her left, Mr. Valentine motions to the door ahead of them.

“Into the belly of the beast,” he says. Georgia lets go of Mac’s wrist to brace herself.

The room is dark when they open the door, weapons drawn, but spotlights begin to flicker on one by one. The last spotlight turns on and her breath catches in her throat when he steps into the light. The rest of the room fades out around her. It’s just the two of them.

“And there she is,” Kellogg says, walking out from behind a desk terminal with three synths at his back. He gestures to her with the pistol in his hand. “The most resilient housewife in the Commonwealth.”

He’s just as she remembers him: gritty, scarred, and worn-looking, but no less threatening, no less predatory. His visage had been the harbinger of her family’s demise, instilling a bone-deep panic into her now that she has a clearer look at him.

Unfortunately for him, all of Georgia’s panic evolves into rage at the sight of him. It’s like she can feel Nate’s hand on her shoulder, giving her the permission she never needed to snap.

“Where the hell is Shaun?!” she barks, more animal than woman.

“Right to it then, huh?” He has the gall to laugh, casual as you please, only fueling her fire. She should shoot him right now before he even gets a chance to gloat, but she knows that he knows the only thing keeping him alive right now is the information on Shaun’s location. If he decides to tell her the truth at all.

“Okay, fine. Your son, Shaun. Great kid,” he continues, casual as you please despite the severity radiating off her to the point where the shaking returns in a different way. “A little older than you might expect, but I’m guessing you figured that out by now. But if it’s a happy reunion you’re after, it’s not gonna happen. Your boy’s not here.”

Georgia’s teeth grit together so hard she swears she’s cracked a molar.

“You can either tell me where the fuck he is, or I blow your goddamn head off,” she seethes. Her gun has been aimed at his chest since he stepped out. “This is the end, Kellogg. Only one of us is walkin’ out of here. You die. I get my son back.”

“If only it were that simple. I’m just a puppet like you—my stage is just a little bigger, that’s all. Doesn’t change the fact that your boy isn’t here,” he shrugs, his revolver glinting in the light. “He’s with the people pulling the strings.”

“Where is he?!” Georgia screams, finger twitching on the trigger and held only by some modicum of restraint still left in her.

“Shaun’s in a good place,” he tells her and she almost believes him. “One where he’s safe and comfortable and loved. A place he calls home.”

Her resolve is starting to slip. Her vision tunnels.

“The Institute.”

A flash of gunfire cuts through the gloom, pulling Georgia out of the moment as the room descends into chaos.

Kellogg stumbles back from the blast of her shotgun, some sort of armor underneath his clothing the only thing blocking what would’ve ripped apart the chest of a regular man. Then Georgia feels herself pulled to the ground, behind one of the desk terminals scattering the room. Streaks of energy from the synth’s weapons fly overhead and she can hear Mac cursing beside her as his rifle sounds off, but then he’s stumbling around the corner of the desk. It takes her a few dangerously long seconds to realize what’s going on, diving behind another terminal as one of the synths falls beside her.

“He’s got a stealthboy!” Mr. Valentine shouts, and she doesn’t even have time to think “what’s a stealthboy?” before a bullet whistles past her ear. “He’s gone!”

She has no idea where anyone is, world turned upside down in the firefight, but her mind catches up to her with a shot of adrenaline. A few terminals down, Mac darts past, low to the ground and Georgia hears him shoot before something falls. She pokes her gun around the edge of a desk before sneaking over to one closer to where she’d last seen Kellogg. Another gunshot, this time from Mr. Valentine, cuts one of the Gen 2’s off mid sentence and then everything goes quiet. Her heart is thundering in her ears as her eyes dart around for any signs of a threat. Another shot rings out to her right so she goes left and makes a break for another piece of cover.

It’s an agonizing few seconds that feel like hours before she sees something flutter out of the corner of her eye. A centuries old piece of paper, falling from one of the desks as if someone had brushed past it, invisible. Her blood runs cold.

One of Mac’s rounds hit a terminal nearby and that’s when Georgia can see a dirty, booted footprint manifest itself on the fallen piece of paper. She lines up the shot.

She pulls the trigger twice and Kellogg materializes before her eyes, falling over sideways as his ankle practically disintegrates under him. He manages to roll over as he falls, landing face up. He doesn’t call out in pain as she rushes him, putting another round in the hand that goes to reach for his revolver on the floor next to him. It turns into a bloody stump, conjuring up images in her mind of ground beef at the supermarket. He barely even makes a sound when she unloads again into his knee cap and is pinned under her boot, the threat of all she’ll do to him a heavy weight in her hands. There isn’t any fear in his eyes when she levels the gun at his head. Instead, with the barrel at his temple and her heel on his chest, he has the gall to smirk at her. Like this was what he had planned all along. Like it was some game to him. She pulls the trigger, but nothing happens. A smirk like he might take the upper hand is the last thing to appear on Kellogg’s face before she changes plans.

The grip on her shotgun has never been tighter than when Georgia uses it to bash his head in. She brings the stock down on his face again and again and again and she doesn’t know when she starts screaming, but her throat is torn raw by it as she lets go of every piece of frustration that’s been building up inside her since she thawed out. Every downward swing is another fuck you to the world, to karma, to the Institute, to him. The air turns coppery as blood—his, her own, she can’t tell the difference—covers her torso. The drops that manage to fly into her still screaming mouth burn on her tongue as she drops to her knees above him, dead set on reducing him to nothing just as he did her. Then she’s grabbed by both arms and dragged away.

She tries to fight it at first, not realizing who has a hold of her. The adrenaline makes her twist and try to launch herself back at the mangled remains of Kellogg’s corpse. “I’m not done!” she shrieks, but Mac and Mr. Valentine’s separate grips on her shoulders don’t give. Together, they pry her hands away from her gun, finger by bloody finger.

Mac is beside her ear, repeating, “It’s over, Georgia, he’s dead, you did it, you’re okay—”

The hands only come off her once they have her away from the carnage. The two men sit her down on something hard and solid and are careful to block the view of her destruction. She doesn’t know why they bother; she already knows the former mercenary is nothing more than mincemeat from the neck up. Distantly, she hears Mr. Valentine say something like “at least the bastard won’t be hurting anyone else” before telling Mac to watch over her.

“I’ll look around, try to get all the intel this place can hide,” she hears him say and he disappears behind one of the overly large desk terminals.

Mac takes a seat beside her as she buries her face in her hands. She chokes on a sob, fury fading into distress as crimson consumes her, covering her arms, her chest, her legs. It’s everywhere and suddenly she feels like she can’t breathe, that red is all she’ll ever see until Mac wordlessly takes her glasses off her face. Blurrily, she sees him wipe the smears of blood off as best he can with his shirt. Instead of handing them back when he’s done, he hooks them on his collar and swings his pack around to rifle through it. He comes out with one of the tins of water from the Gunner base and reaches for the knife he keeps strapped to his boot.

He stabs a hole into the aluminum top, then points to her hands. “Here,” he says quietly, “let’s get that off you.”

She doesn’t move, too trapped inside her own head, but then she feels him move her trembling hands, softly, to pour the water over them. Blood and water pool together in her palms before spilling to the floor and he doesn’t say a word as he silently washes it away, gentler than any words of comfort he could have given her. He even changes out the bandages on her left arm now that the old ones are soaked through with new blood.

In the quiet of his care, all Georgia can think is that she failed. Sure, the man is dead, but she is no closer to finding her son.

The Institute.

She’d heard all the stories, or at least the ones people weren’t too scared to share. Becky, in Diamond City, whose lost husband may or may not have been snatched up. The settlers who wouldn’t look her in the eyes in the early days because new faces were suspicious and not intriguing. Piper, who seemed to have her own personal vendetta against the Commonwealth’s biggest boogeyman, the blade in the dark that struck when you least expected it. The Institute, whatever it was, had Shaun. If Kellogg was telling the truth. That at least meant he was still alive, possibly. She just didn’t know for how long.

While Mr. Valentine pokes around, Georgia slowly comes back to herself. Her vision stops tunneling and the ringing in her ears begins to fade. She doesn’t speak until Mac finishes cleaning her off and bandaging her up. What comes out is hoarse, like someone has taken a nail file to her vocal chords.

“Thank you,” she manages to get out, barely above a whisper. There are so many other things she wants to say (thank you for being careful with me. Sorry I dragged you into this. I’m glad you were here) but they die in her throat.

He shakes his head, unhooking her glasses from his collar and handing them back to her. His voice is only a little rough when he says, “Don’t mention it.”

By the time Mr. Valentine comes back over, she is as put together as she can be in the moment, but even then the grasp she has on herself is tenuous at best.

“So, turns out Kellogg wasn’t giving us any bull. I bullied my way into his terminal—your son really is on the inside,” he says, regretful to be the bearer of bad news. “I’m sorry to say it, but even I don’t know where the Institute is, and they built me.”

Mac pipes up from beside her, indignant, “There has to be a way, right? Otherwise, how the hell did he get in and out?”

“We’re in the weeds here, kids,” Mr. Valentine sighs with a mechanical shrug. Mac’s lip twitches like he wants to rebuke something in his words, but stays silent. “I looked over the body and found these, though.”

From his pockets he pulls out what had once been the pristine pillow case on the bed in the other room, now dark with viscera. Georgia can’t help but wrinkle her nose. A funny, involuntary reaction, considering.

“You did quite the number on him, but I noticed this between all the gray matter. Cybernetics,” Mr. Valentine continues, then puts it back into his coat. “I may not know where the Institute is, but with this, we may have just won the lottery.”

Her brow furrows as she looks up at the detective, confused.

“What do you mean?” she asks, purposefully quiet to not agitate her still-raw throat.

“There’s a place in Goodneighbor called the Memory Den. Heard of it?”

Georgia nods. She’s seen the hazy neon sign over the former theatre in her scant few visits to the town. She’d never been inside, however, before or after the end of the world.

“The place to be to relive moments of your past in your mind as clear as the day they happened. If anyone can get a dead brain to sing, it’ll be Doctor Amari,” he says. “She’s the mind behind the memories.”

“Who is Doctor Amari?”

“She runs the place,” Mac supplies. “Well, kind of. Irma’s the real owner, I think.”

“I’ll let Amari give you her life’s story in person,” Mr. Valentine cuts in, pushing ahead, “but if we head out now, we can get there before it gets too late.”

“And you’re sure she can help?” Georgia presses, not wanting to take more out on hope.

Mr. Valentine’s yellow-filament stare holds her own, “She might be our best bet.”

“Then let’s go,” she nods as she stands, but Mac catches her by the sleeve.

“Hey, hey, slow down a minute,” he says, looking between the two. “Shouldn’t we, I dunno, think about this a little more?”

“What’s there to think about, Mac?” she pleads. She pauses to cough, the more she talks the more it stings. “If the Memory Den is our best bet, then I have no other choice.”

Mac stands up beside her, crossing his arms. “What I’m saying is maybe we should take a break, rest for a little bit, plan before you go shooting off—”

“Mac, I’m fine,” she stresses, clenching a fist at her side. “I don’t want to put it off anymore. I…I want to know.”

She gives him a speaking look that she hopes will say everything she can’t, that after this, she’s done not knowing. All she wants to do now is make up for all the time she’s wasted, and then maybe she can find her boy.

Mac sets his jaw, then tears his eyes away to look at Mr. Valentine. “Fine. Plan is, we go to the Memory Den and talk to the doc, but after that, you’re taking a break.”

“Christ, okay,” she can’t help but snap (now was when he decided to start disagreeing with her leadership?) but when his expression shifts, she sighs, apologetic. “I’m sorry. Let’s just go. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

She makes to leave, but Mr. Valentine reaches out, putting his plastic hand on her shoulder. It’s surprisingly weighty.

“Hey, chin up,” he says, trying to bolster her. “I know the night just got darker, but it won’t last forever.”

She knows he’s just trying to be supportive, but this time, it doesn’t land. “Doesn’t change the fact that it’s still dark,” she mutters, and walks past him, stepping over Kellogg’s mutilated corpse without so much as an acknowledgement of her violence.

It’s a long way up in the elevator they find tucked into a hallway. It takes long enough that being stuck inside starts to make her antsy again, fingers grasping for purchase on something, anything, until they end up catching on the cuff of Mac’s sleeve. He doesn’t make a show of taking it into his own and squeezing, once, and for that Georgia is grateful. When the doors slide open, he lets go, but she can still feel the lingering roughness of the calluses from where he holds his rifle. Mr. Valentine goes to work on hacking through a terminal attached to the only way out, and he mentions something about the turrets outside being put to rest.

The sun has almost dipped completely under the horizon when they exit. It’s finally raining, too, matching just how Georgia feels on the inside, but it does nothing to obscure the massive, brightly-lit airship coming in from the west. It catches all of them by surprise and takes up the sky like one of those big radstorm clouds, demanding she look at it. What look like vertibirds—are vertibirds, she realizes—undock from the sides and take to the air. She squints up at the thing, putting a hand over her eyes to shield from the rain. A booming, bellowing voice cuts through the skies.

“PEOPLE OF THE COMMONWEALTH. DO NOT INTERFERE. OUR INTENTIONS ARE PEACEFUL. WE ARE THE BROTHERHOOD OF STEEL.”

“Son of a…it’s the goddamn Brotherhood,” Mac breathes, eyes transfixed on the airship. “What the hell are they doing there?”

“That man…at the police station…” Georgia trails off, remembering how she and Preston had helped a man in power armor defend his dwindling squad’s base from feral ghouls in Cambridge. They hadn’t been much help in looking for…whatever it was the man had been looking for. She doesn’t even remember his name now, instead only how much he favored Nate…

“What?” Mac asks, tearing his gaze away from the sky.

“Nothin’,” she says, shaking her head as she heads for the scaffolding on the side of the building. “Let’s move.”

#fallout #fallout fic #fallout 4 #fo4 #rj maccready #fic: best laid plans

[tsumuswifey]

Winter's Child (Prologue)

I finally caved. I'm writing a Dabi fanfic. Here's the prologue<3 I'm not really sure how many chapters this'll be, but probably a decent amount. If you read this when this was an OC it has now been changed to x reader lmao.

On the eve of your thirteenth birthday, you dream of the boy for the first time. 

It’s cathartic, in a way. Your lungs expanding for the first time in a long while, a sort of relief you thought was long lost. 

And the boy; he’s familiar, but you can’t quite figure out why.

When you think hard enough, bits and pieces of something try to fit together. What that something is, you aren't sure. But it feels like it could be a different life.

He’s knelt down, carefully picking a bundle of myosotis, every move calculated in such a way that it makes you feel safe.

You take a step further into the field, your gaze wandering over everything. A pale blue farmhouse lays just a little ways down the hill, and close to it, a barn and silo. A couple of goats graze in the fencing behind the yard, some clearly older than others. A mare chuffs loudly, and takes off into a steady gallop across the yard, its tail swinging back and forth. The entire scene feels like coming home after a long day. Down in the yard, next to the house, is a large sycamore tree. A worn tire swing lazily drifts in half circles on one of the sturdier branches, and you get the feeling that you have played on that swing before.

A memory flashes in your mind, but as quick as it comes, it is gone even quicker. You are left with the feeling of a warm pair of hands on your shoulders, laughter echoing through the hollow parts of your bones.

Your gaze drifts back to the boy. His white dress shirt has been rolled up to his elbows, the back of his shirt slightly untucked from his green school slacks. He swipes the hair from his eyes, the white such a strangely comforting sight for you. He doesn’t seem to notice that he isn’t alone; not until you accidentally step on a twig.

For the first time since you've arrived in this field, the boy looks up, and your eyes lock.

Touya.

It’s like an echo of a past that you cannot remember. The name resounds through your mind, over and over until a dull ache forms in the right side of your skull. It’s where the hippocampus is located, where your memories should have been stored safely. But as hard as you think, you cannot come up with why you know that name.

Touya. It’s his name, and it’s on the tip of your tongue, but when you opens your mouth to say it, nothing comes out.

Touya, you try again.

There’s hope gleaming in his eyes, and he says something, but all you hear is ringing; as if your head is submerged in water. He stands for the first time, and you realize that he is tall, and his shoulders are broad, and he’s beautiful, but…

It’s like the dream shifts into something sinister.

The air is still, like the calm before a storm. And, now that you think about it, the birds are no longer singing. The flowers, too, are duller than when you first arrived. Like a fawn being watched by a hunter, you shrink in on yourself, wishing you could wake up.

Something is off. You feel a chill run up your spine, and you can’t shake the feeling that your being watched by someone.

Touya’s eyes snap toward the farmhouse. 

His whole demeanor changes. In hurried movements, he closes the space between him and yourself, something akin to fear etched across his features. He holds out the bundle of flowers for you, nodding his head in a take them gesture.

You reach out, your hand brushing against his as you grab the flowers.

You look up again, looking into Touya’s blue eyes. You want to ask him who he is, why you feel as though you have known him your entire life. But before you can, the scene begins to fade, and you wake up.

Curling up in the warmth of your blanket, you sigh in contentment. You don't recall having a dream, don't remember the boy with kind eyes. But when you sit up, sheets pooling round your waist, a voice echoes through your mind. 

How strange, you think. For some reason, you smell flowers. But that’s not the strangest thing. Three words burn into your memory like a brand.

Forget me not. 

#touya todoroki #dabi #todoroki #dabi fanfiction #touya todoroki fanfiction #dabi angst #mha dabi #bnha #mha #my hero academia #dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader

[bobattef]

The Stand In:

“Are you freaking kidding me” you curse out loud.

“Everything ok Y/N?” a raspy voice comes from inside your ear.

“I don’t like this…one bit” you’re whispering now. Making sure no one else in the bathroom stalls can hear you.

“It’s just for a little while Y/N” comes another soothing voice.

“Yeah Y/N…stop pretending you don’t have the easier part to play in this” you can sense the acid of jealously on the tongue.

This may be easy for them but that’s because they are agents.

You’re not.

Just because your Dad was the Tony Stark, doesn’t mean you want to follow in his footsteps.

You wish for it to be like the good old days, when you just thought your Dad was a donor who walked out on you and your Mum when you were a baby but after her illness, she revealed to you who your true father was.

“Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist” was how the latest cover of Empire magazine called him.

You rolled your eyes in remembrance.

“You got it on yet Y/N??” Steve Rodger’s voice was so calming, you always liked him.

“If it even fits” comes the lizard tongue of Agent Hill.

You knew it was hurting her that they chose you as the decoy on the floor of the party over her.

She was far more skilled than you yes but after her run in with a few Hydra agents as of late, the team couldn’t risk one of them recognising her.

Not like they would, this was a masquerade party.

“It fits” you say back “Although a little tight in the chest area, but we can’t all be blessed there aye Hill?” you had to add in at the end.

You weren’t your fathers daughter for nothing.

You stuff the clothes you had on previously into the bin bag and shove it behind the toilet cistern.

Walking out from the cubicle you spot yourself in the mirror for the first time.

You weren’t kidding when you said the chest area was tight and you silently wish there was some sort of shawl you can cover with.

The dress clung to every curve you had, ones you didn’t really noticed you had.

You were more of a Tom boy growing up than a girly girl, rarely had your hair out of your braids and yet it was now flowing down your back.

The dark brown curls contrasting with the dark green of the dress.

Yes dress.

Always choosing combats or leggings and an oversized jumper this was totally out of your comfort zone.

You are made aware of the height difference between you and Agent Hill as the slit in the thigh area is a little too high for your liking.

Luckily you aren’t packing as your holster would be on full show right now!

But Steve said this was a spot and report mission, you wouldn’t have to show off your shooting skills tonight.

“Are you on the floor yet Y/N” Steve’s voice calms your nerves again.

You’d be a fool if you didn’t admit you had a little crush on the Captain.

He was always so nice to you, since the day you pulled up on avengers campus.

He was the only one who told the others to let you speak, let you tell them about why you were there and who your dad was.

It went down like a lead balloon but he was always there, making sure you were ok whilst Banner did all his tests to prove you were of Stark DNA.

“I’ve got a visual” Natasha confirms in your ear. She was another one looking out for you, you were like the little sister she told you she lost.

“You’ll be fine” she said with a smile when the others told you this plan.

“You’re a Stark!”

You let out a long shaky breath, not realising you were holding it in.

Making your way to the bar, you thought you had the perfect excuse to grab a quick drink to settle your nerves.

“Steve…do you copy?” Nat repeats.

“Mmm” was the super soldiers reply, “I er,,,yeah, I have a visual too” he seems to be stuttering but you can’t think ‘why’ right now. Possibly for the fact that he could be finding out what happened to his long lost war buddy tonight? Or perhaps it’s Agent Hill’s choice of attire you’re in?

You pull your mask up slightly, taking a long sip from the drink the bartender handed you, no idea what it was called but the glass looked pretty.

In another time and place you’d be discreetly putting it into your bag to take home to show your mum.

She’d shake her head, weakly, at you. Not happy about the petty theft but will then admire your taste of pretty things.

You miss those little exchanges.

“Can you see the target Y/N?” Nat pulls you from your thoughts again.

“Negative” you answer. Surprised at your ‘agent talk’.

“Try moving away from the bar” Agent Hill snaps. “You’re not there to get drunk” she can’t help herself with sly digs.

You knock the rest of the drink back in retaliation. The bar tender raising his eyebrows at you but pours another.

You wink at him as you pull the mask back over your face and turn to face the room.

You know both Steve and Nat are watching you but you have no idea where they are. They’re good like that.

There are a few art pieces displayed across the far wall so you decide to walk over to have a scan of the room from that angle.

Tipping your glass to the tender as a thanks, you think about your poor legs aching tomorrow being in these damn heels!

You’re too focused on not snapping an ankle that you walk straight into a 6ft wall of a man.

Your drink tipping out over the floor, you can almost hear the eyeroll coming from Agent Hill.

“Ah shit sorry!” you mumble as you look up to your victim.

The man just tilts his head to the side, not saying a word. His eyes scan you up and down and you can’t tell if he’s man or robot to the lack of movement he makes from your impact.

You suddenly feel very vulnerable, he towers over you and being so close to him right now all you can take in is the pure size of him.

His shoulders are so broad, being accentuated by the body armour he is wearing.

A shimmer of metal catches your eye sight and they drop to his left arm.

*What an interesting outfit for a masquerade ball*

You think to yourself.

Then realisation hits you.

It’s that guy.

The one they call ‘Winter Soldier’

You don’t mean to gulp but the Winter Soldiers eyes drop down from your throat to your almost exposed chest and then back up to your line of sight.

“ты хорош?” His voice vibrates through him.

“Hmm?” you muster, lost in the moment.

He chuckles, “you good?” he says it in English this time, realising you probably don’t speak a word of Russian.

The silence in your ear right now is very loud.

You know both Steve and Nat can hear this exchange and have figured out not only have you possibly blown you cover, but you walked straight into the deadliest assassin of Hydra history.

They are probably praying to whatever gods are up there that you don’t falter.

“I’m good” you say and a follow with a smile.

You have no idea what expression is on his face, the mask he is wearing covers the bottom half of his face whilst yours covers the top.

You don’t seem to be keeping up an act, you should be scared of this man, the stories you’ve heard about him should make you want to run for the hills but you stay.

Finding yourself saying yes to his offer of a drink to replace the one you spilt, you watch him walk over to the bar.

“Y/N” Steve’s voice is so low yet so full of urgency. “Get out of there, now!”

“But, he’s just going to get me a dri…” you try not to sound disappointed.

“Abort now!” Nat’s voice is a little more louder.

“Leave the bag in the loos, just go to the exit” she sounds terrified for you. So why aren’t you feeling the same way.

The Winter Soldiers back is turned away from you, patiently waiting for the tender to pour you another drink.

You should walk, you should run really but your brain is in some sort of lag it seems.

Your legs seem to put you in gear before your brain agrees and you find yourself walking towards the main doors, trying not to run but walk as quickly as your Louboutin’s will allow you to.

Your heart starts to race as you close in on the stairs leading to the exit.

Knowing that either Steve or Nat or both of them are waiting the other side to get you gone.

You go to push the large handle of the door but feel a hand snake around the bottom of your back.

“Leaving already?” the low rumbled voice confirms to you what you already know.

You turn to see that his eyes are actually filled with a certain sadness.

“No, no, just wondering where the damn toilets are here” you giggle out, trying to cover your nerves.

“Come” the Winter Soldier says and guides you to the other side of the room, away from the exit, away from where Steve and Nat would be waiting for you.

You can practically hear the blood pumping in your ears right now.

Your legs are shaking and you’re not sure it’s entirely down to being stuffed into 4 inch heels for the first time in your 21 year life or because of the the way this man is gripping onto your waist so tightly.

You come to a stop outside the women’s restroom.

“Oh, thank you” you exhale out.

He just nods at you as you walk inside, not saying a word.

“Fuck! Steve…Nat…are you there?” you try not to be louder than a small whisper, having the tap running to hopefully shield any of your attempts to call them.

All you get back is static radio noise.

You glance at your surroundings, this wasn’t the bathroom from earlier on, this one is a little bit further away from the main room, down one possibly two floors? Perhaps too far away for signal.

You look up at your reflection in the mirror.

Now you’re scared.

You’re on your own.

Like the time you were in the hospital bathroom, staring at the same facial expression of yourself.

Upset, scared, alone, angry.

You didn’t have anyone now your Mum had sadly passed. No other family around, well that you knew of. You had no friends due to always making sure you were there for your mother in those last few weeks of life.

You remember the breathing exercises she taught you when things got a little too overwhelming and you manage to bring yourself back into the room.

*he probably isn’t even around, he doesn’t know who you are* you try to convince yourself.

But after stepping back out the door there he is. Waiting for you.

He’s sitting on one of the loungers there, it’s a huge piece of furniture but he makes it seem smaller.

His legs are spread as he’s leaned back against the wall.

You can see the thigh strap he has on with a blade attached to one side of his legs and gun inside his holster wrapped around the other.

His arms basically span the whole size of the lounger, his whole posture showing that he isn’t the prey.

He’s the hunter.

He has his gaze trained fully on you as you’re not sure wether to walk back up the stairs or over to him.

He can see you’re arguing internally with yourself so speaks first.

“Who are you hooked up to?” but his voice sends a crashing feeling around you.

You let out a nervous laugh, “huh?”

*feign your innocence!* a voice shouts in your head.

You’ve used your dumb little girl act to get yourself out of sticky situations before.

Nothing to this seriousness but worth a shot.

“Don’t play games with me” the Winter Soldier says sternly.

His voice doesn’t match his body language.

It’s so menacing whilst he looks so laid back.

“I can see your comms link in your left ear” he almost spits out. Annoyed at your sheer stupidity.

You’re stuck for words.

Where are the others??

Surely you being radio silent for this long sends an SOS out to them??

“Well??” he pushes.

Your head goes a hundred mph.

You look around you, there’s no one else here. You’ve been training for over a year with Agent Romanoff, could you fight your way out of this.

“Don’t think about running” his voice makes you set your eyes back to him.

“Do you not know who I am?” his accent hangs heavy on his words.

“Yeah…I er, I do” you don’t know why you’re answering him like you know what’s going on.

“And yet…you’re not, scared?” he tilts his head again at you, almost like trying to work out your body language.

“Oh I am” you say, surprised at the confidence that drips from your voice.

“You don’t act like it” he enquires.

“You let me lead you down here, to the basement area, away from your little friends” he speaks slowly as if you haven’t realised the level of danger you’re in.

“And” you take another big gulp “if you wanted to…you would have killed me by now” you push back at him.

Unsure wether he has decided on not killing you but you’re still stood here so you have a point.

He lets out a laugh and stands, taking his gun out of his thigh holster he points it at you.

“Who do you work for?” he asks you again.

You hitch a breath.

You should be crying, begging him not to shoot you but it was either the alcohol you had upstairs earlier or the feeling of having nothing to lose giving you extra confidence right now.

“Does it matter?” you ask him.

“Don’t make me ask you again” his voice sounds so cold right now as he steps closer to you.

You don’t a say a word.

Not because you don’t want to reveal the names of those who you are with but you know wether or not you tell this man the Avengers and S.H.E.I.L.D are behind this, you’re as good as dead either way.

“Urgh” he lets out an annoyed huff at you, stalking over to where you are frozen in fear he grabs you underneath your arm and pulls you into one of the fire exit doors.

Your legs and feet cry out as you get practically dragged behind this 6ft of muscle.

He comes to an abrupt stop and falling to his knees he slips off one of your shoes.

You’re taken a back as he swaps to the other side, sliding the shoe off so gently with his big gloved hands.

He tosses them to the side and carries on stalking down the corridors.

Your feet patter against the concrete of the floor, relieved at the coolness.

You start to hear screams coming from the floors above you alongside the familiar sounds of guns being fired and realise the winter soldier has probably been hearing this a little longer than you.

He kicks open the door into the kitchen area as he almost carries you now through the floor, making up as much space as he can with his strides.

You’re suddenly thrown into bright sunshine as your senses catch up with where you are being taken.

A huge black truck, definitely armoured, is parked out here as the Winter Soldier crouches down behind the front tyre, pulling you with him.

You’re suddenly very close to him. As he’s scanning the outside area, looking for someone.

You hear the faint sounds of the gun fire and continuous screaming coming from a distance now as you wonder just how far he has brought you away from the main room.

You just stare at him, as his gaze falls back down to meet yours, his free hand comes up to meet the side of your face.

You almost pull away but find yourself letting him run his hand up your cheek.

Your breathing starts to quicken but he almost snaps you out of it when you pulls your comm link from your ear, throwing it on the floor and then stomping on it.

“Get in” he tells you as he opens the car door.

You look at him surprised.

“Get…in!” he says loudly and almost shoves you towards the door.

You do as you’re told as he quickly climbs in after you, pushing you over to the passenger side as he turns the keys the engine roars to life and he slams a heavy boot on the accelerator.

Crashing though the gate leading to the back of the building he turns onto the main road, swerving this huge truck with ease as police cars come screaming towards him. A few officers lean out their windows, opening fire on the truck.

You instinctively bring your hands over your ears and pull yourself into a ball, not realising the bullets just ricocheting off the heavy armoured vehicle.

For something so big and heavy, this sure can fly.

You think to yourself as you race through the streets, avoiding every obstacle the Winter Soldier encounters.

You start to hear the noise of sirens fall behind as you dare to glance through the back window, your eyes agreeing with your ears as you can’t even spot any cop cars now.

You look ahead of you, the surrounding buildings and trees turning into a blur as you both race down another street, this time towards the harbour.

“Where are we going?” you say breaking the silence between you but the Winter Soldier just keeps his eyes forward, not answering you.

You pull up to a ship carrying containers in the dock.

A few men, wearing all back, machine guns in hands stand by the ships bridge.

“Who’s the girl?!” of them demands at the winter soldier as he pulls you out the truck and walks you over to the bridge.

“Hey!” he shouts now after getting ignored but you just stare up at the man that has you grasped tightly to himself. He’s face is showing no emotion as you clamber onboard.

He almost throws you into a small cabin upon the ship, not realising his strength sometimes.

“Stay here, don’t make a sound” he barks at you as he closes the door behind him. Locking it into place making the panic sink in.

You feel like crying.

You have no idea where you are or where you’re going.

Was Steve and Nat ok from back there, were they the reason for the screaming and shooting.

So many questions remain unanswered.

Including the why are you still alive one that keeps running through your head.

You’re not sure how long you’re waiting inside that small sleeping quarter but you knew you had left port now, and been at sea for a little while.

Where to you have no idea.

The door swings open and you stand up quickly, the Winter Soldier is back.

“You good?” he asks you and you let out a laugh.

“Are you serious?!” you don’t mean to sound so panicky in your voice but the last couple of hours haven’t felt real to you at all.

“Look if you just tell me who you work for” he starts but you cut him off

“So you can just kill me and throw me overboard??” you almost shout back at him.

“No” he simply says “I won’t throw you overboard, we’re still in American waters, they’d find you within minutes, I’ll keep you in here” his eyes curling up indicating he was smirking as he bolts the lock across the door.

“Is this your attempt at humour??” you can’t believe you’re answering him back, giving your circumstances but you are a Stark.

He slumps down onto the chair opposite you as you start to pace up and down the room.

He unbuckles his boots, and kicks them off.

Following with his bullet proof vest which he lays on the table next to him, he joins the pile with his holsters and weapons.

“Don’t get any funny ideas” he looks up at you sternly, removing both of his gloves, he pulls the mask slowly from his face as you stare at his weapons laid across the small table top.

“Well why are you disarming in front of me??” you ask him.

“Seeing how tight that dress of yours is clinging to your body” he’s starts to slowing say to you “then I’m in no threat of danger from a concealed weapon am I?”

You huff out at his comment.

“Trust me, it wasn’t my choice of attire” and you roll your eyes.

“You can tell me who’s?” he pushes.

But you just glare at him as he puts his hands up in defeat to show you he’s not being too serious.

He gets up and walks over to you but brushes past and lays down on the bed.

“What are you doing??” You ask him.

“Sleeping” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing to be doing.

“You should get some shut eye too, this journey is about 7 and a half hours long” he says as he closes his eyes.

You don’t understand how he managed to move so quickly but in the split second it took you to grab one of his guns on the table, he had his whole body weight pushing you up against the wall, whacking your wrist against the door frame, your hand opens up dropping the pistol to the floor.

“Argh!” you say under the crushing weight of him and the sting from the hit on your hand.

“What did I tell you??” he says through gritted teeth.

“Worth a shot no?” you almost spit out at him.

“No, it’s not!” he whispers now. His face is so close to yours, you should be feeling fear right now but instead a different kind of emotion runs through your veins.

You’re suddenly well aware of the placement of his knee, right in between your thighs, pinning you to wall along with his hands on you.

Your dress already being revealing but you know it’s almost showing your underwear right now.

The Winter Soldier notices your hitched breathing as his eyes drop to your chest. He sees the small goosebumps starting to form across the skin there.

You’re not sure how long you’re held up by him for, as thoughts run through his mind but he drops you down slowly.

His hands falling from his grip on your wrists. He keeps his metal arm leant on the wall next to your head whilst the other trails down to your waist.

You don’t realise but you bite your lip.

Your eyes drop to the floor, out of embarrassment. You know he could tell what you’re thinking.

He hooks a finger inside the slit of your dress, pulling the fabric across your leg, exposing your middle. You’re glad for the choice of underwear being the pretty black set.

You swallow hard.

And his gaze quickly meets yours, asking for permission to go ahead as he slowly strokes a finger up and down the lace there.

You nod slowly, unable to make a sound right now as pulls your underwear to one side and pushes two of his fingers inside you.

You don’t mean to let out a moan but you can’t remember the last time you had someone other than your hand on you like this.

You feel yourself stretch around him as starts to move them, curling them upwards towards that sweet spot of yours.

You move your leg a little, to open wider for him but are caught off guard as he drops to his knees.

His face is now lined up perfectly with your cunt, that is now aching at the loss of his fingers.

Both his hands run up either side of your legs as your head falls back against the door.

He plants a kiss at the very top of your thigh as you suck a breath in.

You’re not sure what he says but just hear a low hmm of approval as his tongue finds the spot his fingers were just at.

You don’t mean to grab his head so fiercely but your fingers tangle in his hair as he licks, sucks, and kisses you down there like a man starved.

“так хорошо” he manages to say in between movements and your legs almost buckle.

You have no idea what he’s mumbling in Russian to you but the vibration from his voice on you down there sends signals straight to your core.

“Holy fuuuuck” you breathe out and can feel his smile against your skin.

“Mmm” he replies to you as he adds his fingers back into the mix.

You feel yourself getting hotter as that familiar feeling starts to wind up inside of your stomach.

He must sense you’re close as he doesn’t hold up, focusing on your clit as tries to bring you your high.

You almost want to push his head away, it feels so good right now but so much is happening at the same time but he doesn’t let you.

He hardly breaks a sweat as his pure strength keeps his mouth locked on your dripping cunt now, using his metal arm his hand is splayed across your thigh, keeping the space free for his assault of his lips on you.

“I’m…I’m going to…” words start spilling from your mouth but you don’t know if you’re making any sense to him.

He doesn’t seem to care as the last flicks of his tongue match with the circular movements he does with his thumb on your clit and it makes you come undone in his mouth.

You don’t mean to cry out but it feels heavenly.

You come down from your high as the Winter Soldier is still in between your thighs.

Licking up every part of you.

Your eye lids drop a little lower as you feel your legs are jelly right now, he looks up at you with a massive grin on his face.

He enjoyed that just as much as you did.

“All good?” he whispers to you.

But before you can answer he stands, picking you up with him. He walks you over the bed with ease, sitting down he places you slowly onto his lap.

Your dress is still bunched up around your waist as you feel the wetness between your legs being pressed up again the winter soldier’s hardness poking though his combats.

He uses his metal arm to steady you on his lap as he uses the other to undo the belt buckle around his waist.

You realise you’re biting your lip again as he pulls the waistband down, freeing his cock.

You notice the tiny bit of pre cum leaking from the tip.

Now it’s his turn for his eyes to drop heavy as he cups you underneath your ass to lift you up, pumping himself a few times before sinking you down onto his length.

You both moan out in sync.

You thought his fingers filled you but as you drop down the entirety of his cock, you feel your cunt walls contract around him.

“Still not going to tell me your name?” he breaths out as you start to rock your hips into him.

“You never asked for that before…” you try to remain sarky but the feeling from the tip of his cock pressing into your spongy spot is making you see stars again.

His grip tightens on your hips, you’re sure you’ll have bruises there, as he starts to fuck his hips up in towards you.

You moan out and your head falls back you wrap your arms around the back of his neck to hold on.

“I want to know whose pretty name can fall from my lips as I come” he says to you as he cups your face, pulling your gaze back down to him.

“Y/N! It’s Y/N” you barley managed to say, trying not to let go, not yet, you don’t know if it’s because it’s been so long since you’ve been with another man or that fact that this winter soldier knows just how to hit your sweet spot but you don’t want it to be over, not just yet.

“Mmm y/n” he breaths out. He quickens his pace, his own thoughts going to how long it’s been since he’s had a women like this clenching around his cock.

But that first way you looked at him when you practically walked into him at the ball, made him feral.

He was just pissed at the sight of the comms link in your ear but knew you were of no danger by the way you acted towards him.

His hips start to turn sloppy as he chases his own high. The way his voice says your name makes you almost come undone again on top of him.

He kisses you feverishly as he comes inside you, painting your walls.

“Fuuuuck” he cries out, holding you against his chest that is heaving now underneath you.

His lips fall to your neck, planting tiny kisses alongside your jawline and collarbone.

The Winter Soldier falls back, his head hitting the pillow, you shuffle down so you’re comfortably under his arms, hugging his chest. He stays inside you and wraps a leg of yours over his waist.

You both stay like that, catching your breath whilst feeling the blanket of sleepiness washing over you as the last few hours of your day catches you up.

“Now will you sleep?” The Winter Soldier says to you as he closes his own eyes.

“Mmm” you already have your eyes shut.

“But tell me your name first” as you smile against his chest.

“Ha” he lets out a chuckle “it’s Barnes…” he says after a little while.

Your eyes fly open as you startle him awake.

“What??” he sounds worried at your reaction to him name.

“James?” you say, almost too scared to say it out loud, to confirm it.

“Yyyyes?” he raises an eyebrow.

“James Bucky Barnes??” you say, your heart slamming against your chest.

His eyes bore into you, a thousand things running through his mind.

“You’re with S.H.I.E.L.D?!” he says matter of factly closing his eyes to the disappointment.

#smut #winter soldier #reader pov #warnings #over18 #bucky fanfic

[space-cowboy-101]

🌼 Hear me out: ATEEZ x JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure 🌞

Golden Wind/Vento Aureo is like my favorite part in the main timeline next to Stone Ocean and it’s the perfect combination of wacky for an ateez story 😭 mafia/weird magic shit/adventure au it has everything along with fashion on top of that.

(this totally wasn’t spurred on by the fact that when i first seen seonghwa i thought he looked like bruno 🌝)

gold experience i feel is a perfect stand for hongjoong just based off of who he is as a person. like i don’t know, out of all the main jojo’s stands, either crazy diamond or gold experience is a fit for him.

sticky fingers is weird just like seonghwa so there’s a match 😭 like give seonghwa that stand and you have ateez’s new bane of their existence honestly.

originally it was going to be stone ocean because of their outlaw concept pictures with the green backgrounds (omfg they’re so good bro, that entire album had fire concept photos) and because they’re outlaws, why wouldn’t a jail au be perfect for that, but then i remembered part 5 and NEEDED my bruno/seonghwa dreams to come true.

as for their lil backstories, they’ll probably be different from the actual gw characters’ backstories but they lowkey don’t really matter if i’m being honest 💀

hongjoong’s getting his ✨fashion degree baby✨ in the beautiful naples, italy and works as a scamming taxi driver at the airport because he’s gotta hustle to pay them bills since his parents don’t support his dreams 😒 and ends up screwing with the wrong person and meets the 🫶🏻 park seonghwa 🫶🏻 who hears him out about his disdain for the mafia dealing drugs to kids (or maybe just in general) and how he wants to stop that. seonghwa agrees and says ‘yeah bby just kill that capo in jail after passing the test to join and we got our ticket in’ and the story goes from there.

the fic simultaneously doesn’t take itself seriously sometimes and does at the same time, just like jojo. it’ll be all fun and games at the start where they think it’s smooth sailing but then the boss rolls up and shit goes down hill and it gets serious. but i’ve enjoyed writing the first chapter. it’s different from what i’m used to solely because jojo is kind of hard to translate outside of itself.

i love ateez. i love jojo. mix em together and you have 🤲🏻 my everything. i need to share it with the yall or it’ll be living in my head rent free 24/7

so…i’ll see you when i post the next two 👋🏻🥹 thanks for reading my rambling bby, i appreciate you.

#ateez fanfic #seongjoong #ateez #jeong yunho #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #alternate universe #ateez aesthetic #choi jongho #song mingi #choi san #jung wooyoung #kang yeosang #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #vento aureo #matz #ateez matz

[saintsenara]

Hi! First of all, Happy Saint Patrick’s day! Second of all, I have been binge reading ‘One Year in Every Ten’ this past week and I have been absolutely captivated by it. In particular, I’m interested in your characterisation of Delphini, I liked the parallels between the portrait of Bellatrix as a young girl and the photo of Delphini on her birthday. I’m curious as to what your characterisation of Delphini would be if she was to appear as a more prominent character in a work of yours, things like her temperament, feelings towards her parents (particularly in One Year on Every Ten with a dead-but-not-actually Tom), interests etc. She’s a character I typically don’t have great interest in, since I’ve never been particularly interested in The Cursed Child, but you’ve piqued my interest!

I’d also be curious as to how you think interactions between Tom and Delphini would go down, and what you feel Tom’s feelings would be towards her? I think you’ve mentioned before that he wouldn’t be a particularly hands on father, but his behaviour at the end of Chapter 28 makes me wonder about that apparent lack of paternal nature.

anon, thank you so much! i am absolutely delighted that you’ve enjoyed one year in every ten, and i’m particularly thrilled that you’ve managed to do so while being a member of delphini nation. it will come as a shock to nobody that there are plenty of readers who are having to grit their teeth and suffer through the concept of a bellamort baby - and even more, i’m sure, who have dipped altogether at the first mention - and so it’s very refreshing to meet someone with taste…

the hill i will die on is that delphini’s existence makes sense not only in contexts such as this - which you will never find me claiming feature one-hundred-percent-canon-accurate representations of its stars - but within the canonical voldemort and bellatrix’s character arcs. the big theme of the series for voldemort is that his attempt to outrun his humanity is ultimately futile, and so him fucking around [literally] and finding out that even his body - cobbled together from snake blood and dark magic - is capable of getting his mistress pregnant fits that in a really interesting way. the canonical voldemort also has a really quite profound sense of honour - the most striking example of which is that he detests wormtail for having betrayed james and lily, even though that betrayal was literally what he wanted to happen - and i think this provides an explanation for why he wouldn’t just kill bellatrix [or give her an abortifacient against her will] when she refused to end the pregnancy.

[and i do think he’d be under no illusion that delphini was his - not least because the most canon-plausible time for her to be born is at some point in spring 1997. bellatrix appears in half-blood prince once, in a scene set in early july 1996, and then doesn’t turn up in the text again until the opening scene of deathly hallows, which takes place in early july 1997. if we say she’s born in march or april, this would have her conceived in summer 1996 after all the evidence of canon suggests that rodolphus is back in azkaban. voldemort’s not wheedling his way out of that one!]

this does not - obviously - mean that i think he’d give a solitary fuck about the progression of bellatrix’s pregnancy or his daughter’s early life. as he tells us in one year in every ten, he has never actually seen delphini in person - rodolphus forcing that photograph on him in c.21 is the first time he’s ever laid eyes on her, and i think he was genuinely quite surprised to discover that she had turned into something he could think of as recognisably human rather than just a potato that screamed.

because i don’t think he’ll ever stop hating babies - the trauma of his childhood runs too deep, and a spoiler i’ll give away for free is that there’s no way on god’s green earth that harry is getting a riddle child of his own - but i think he won’t find it particularly difficult or traumatic to interact with a delphini who’s eleven and can, therefore, speak at a reasonable volume and sit still when required. i’ve written in a meta about the canon voldemort’s capacity for fatherhood that i think his relationship with delphini is best thought of as akin to the relationship a child might have with their parents’ family friend, and i think that applies to the tom of one year in every ten too.

[not least because this is exactly how i imagine his relationship with rodolphus and rabastan…]

which is to say that i think they will absolutely get along - i am committed to the idea that they are very similar personality wise, that delphini shares lots of his little quirks [marzipan and crosswords coming in clutch], and that the parts of her which remind him of bellatrix are something he refuses to let bother him because he’s never going to be able to properly acknowledge that he misses her - but that their relationship will always be cordial and superficial rather than resembling anything actually familial.

and i think that’s fine! it’s obviously a damning indictment of tom that he’s been beaten to a pulp in the paternal role-model stakes by… rodolphus lestrange, but it’s also better for everyone if he isn’t expected to assume sole responsibility for delphini’s welfare and if she isn’t expected to have to rely on him for any sort of emotional guidance. she can accept that he’s not dead any more [which i think she probably won’t find too hard - she’s inherited her father’s canonical predisposition towards mysticism], he can have his fortnightly trips to see her - not not something he’s keen on because he can lie on the terrace of roddy’s safehouse like a snake on a big, flat rock - and they can make fun of harry in parseltongue and that can be that.

and yet…

tom is of the opinion that he is very much lacking in paternal instinct and that he and delphini will never have a normal father-daughter relationship. he is also a hypocrite, a pathological liar, and a human being incapable - no matter how much he hates that he can’t - of going through the world as an automaton. the tom of one year in every ten has also obviously had some… experiences which have given him a slightly more stable sense of self than he had when harry blasted him in the head with his own killing curse [which means, i think, that he is able to not resent the fact that delphini wasn’t dragged up in an orphanage, as well as to find it faintly amusing, rather than rage-inducing, that she looks exactly like him]. and so he has found himself - while, of course, he would say that this doesn’t indicate anything at all - invested in the idea that his daughter is safe and happy, and vaguely aware that this is something it’s his responsibility to contribute to.

and maybe - although i think it might take quite a while - he might one day actually be able to interrogate that feeling…

stranger things have happened.

when it comes to delphini herself, something i really like that you can do with her as a character is show how both bellatrix and voldemort’s traits can be read much less negatively than they are in canon in someone who doesn’t doom herself in the narrative’s eyes by continually trying to murder its hero. i like her being just as single-minded and sly and brittle and prone to monologuing as her father and as haughty and loyal and hot-tempered as her mother - and i also like her being as clever and [and this is something i feel gets left out of a lot of fanon versions of bellamort] funny as both of her parents - and this being something which just makes her a fully-rounded and interesting character rather than an irredeemable villain.

but something i’m really wedded to in her characterisation is the idea that the person she’d remind harry of… is tonks.

it seems to be really common for andromeda to be written in fanfic as quite cold - and, sure, the only time we see her in canon she’s not exactly rolling out the red carpet for harry and hagrid - and for all of tonks’ personality to come via ted. i’ve never really vibed with that - and so i’ve always preferred to imagine andromeda [and bellatrix] as being, in their youths, very much like the tonks we see in canon: bolshy and rebellious and messy and cheeky and possessed of a very eclectic fashion sense. i think it’s a really important counter to the black-and-white divide between good people, who are nice, and bad people, who are horrible, in the series for harry [and ron and hermione and ginny etc.] to have to realise that someone who unleashed as much destruction on the world as bellatrix could have been so similar to a woman they all adored; and for tom to have to confront the fact that delphini’s only living cousin is draco - who we know he takes quite a dim view of - and it’s entirely his and bella’s own fault.

[and - some shameless self-promo - i’ve actually written a fic on this topic - everlasting ink.]

of course, the other interesting one year in every ten question is what's going to happen when tom meets harry's children. and the answer... is coming sooner than you think...

#asks answered #delphini riddle #i am a delphini stan account #so love that for me #oyiet answers

[allwaswell16]

Hello Anitra, some weeks ago I sent you an ask for a fic rec about HL (1 of them) working at the hospital and the other had an accident and had to go there and you wrkte in tags that you were trying to see if you could do a small fic rec bc there weren’t too much or if not, you’ll add it to your list, but it’s not there and I can’t find the small fic rec because tumblr search works when it wants 🥲🥲🥲 hope I’m not bothering you!

Hiiii! Sorry it's taken a bit to get back to this! Here are some fics that fit what you're looking for! (There were more than I thought!) Happy reading!

-Injured Character/Hospital Staff Fics-

If It Means A Lot To You by themasqueraded (NR, 25k)

20 year old Harry works at one of the best hospitals of London and he's got his whole life figured out. It all works out until a beautiful, injured boy comes along.

i carry your heart in mine by millsx (G, 18k)

It all starts with Harry covering a shift for his colleague. It ends in old wounds, resurfaced feelings and an ex-boyfriend Harry never really got over.

fight me breathless by sideofzemblanity (M, 7k)

Louis Tomlinson has no idea why he’s in a London hospital for asthma, but enter Harry Styles, his doctor, who he definitely doesn’t think is hot, and he’s left wondering if asthma is why he can’t seem to breathe properly with his doctor around.

When You Really Love Christmas by @jaerie (E, 5k)

Harry really loves Christmas. It lands him in the hospital with a Christmas tree stuck up his ass.

Slip into Your Arms by @ohpleaselarry (NR, 4k)

“Am I too old to ask for a cast that isn’t just plain white?”

The nurse laughs easily, shaking her head fondly as she continues to scribble on her little clipboard. Louis sets his free (non-broken) hand under his chin and sighs, peeking at the clock for the fifth time in the last minute. Waiting for doctors sucks. Waiting for doctors to come and fix up your throbbing hand while your head pounds and it’s Christmas- that really sucks.

I Don't Care It's Obvious by RedRidingStiles (M, 4k)

“You mind telling me what happened?” Harry asks.

“Well Lou here thought it would be a great idea to ride his board down the big hill on fifth street, you know the one right? Anyways he's going at least fifteen miles down that bitch and ends up falling off halfway down due to the fact he can't hold his liquor worth a shit.” The blonde explains, his words only slightly slurred as the two boys follow Harry down the hallway to an empty patient room.

“Excuse me, Niall, not all of us are Irish bloody fuckers who can - ah, ah, ow, motherfucking shooting pains, shit,” The injured one, Lou, says. Harry wonders if it’s a nickname.

“He kinda hit his head when he fell too, it's gonna be hard to tell considering some of the shit that comes out of his mouth usually but,” The dark-haired one pipes up, his voice soft and raspy.

“Piss off. I don’t even know why you two are still here, Curly here and I can have fun all by ourselves, right Curly?” Louis slurs, peaking up at Harry through his messy fringe. Harry tried his hardest to ignore the little flutter of fondness that struck his chest, he was a professional, even if cute drunk boys with broken limbs don't often stumble into his ER room as often as you'd think.

Temporary Fix by winterpillowtalk (T, 4k)

Harry as a doctor? You bet is he. 

Charm Your Pants Off by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou (G, 2k)

When Harry hurt himself in front of all of his coworkers, he thought his Christmas Eve couldn’t get any worse. That was, until he ended up in an actual ambulance.

Perhaps the gentle and ridiculously attractive doctor he meets at the hospital can make his trip (pun absolutely intended) worth it?

Green Jello by orphan_account (T, 2k)

In Liam’s defense, he’d mostly been joking.

Louis didn’t see it that way, of course, but he wasn’t sure anyone else would either, had their best friend dared them to jump into the ocean in the middle of December “for the vine,” and they’d ended up in the hospital with a nasty case of pneumonia and a very high chance of being stuck there through Christmas.

Louis is stuck in the hospital for the holidays. The only spot of hope is his unfairly pretty nurse.

Sugar Let Me Be Your Passenger by teddy9 (G, 2k)

Someone must have deemed the situation serious enough to transport Louis somewhere else because when he regains consciousness he is notably not on the field. No he must have fatally injured himself and ended up in heaven. All of those half-hearted prayers to the big man when he needed to pass an exam at uni or make rent that month must have paid off because he was definitely in heaven if the celestial being above him was anything to go by. or

Louis gives himself a concussion playing football and Harry is the EMT who takes care of him and endures his shameless flirting on the way to the hospital

#ask #anon #ficask #ficrec #injured character #hospital

[phantomfairs]

Well, I wasn’t expecting to post this short.

This is a short I made featuring a young Tombstone and I guess it’s a self-insert. No romantic paring at all it’s just them meeting. I’d love criticism on it.

“Whoever’s there better come out before I drag you by your feet.” Panicked breathing was all that answered Tombstone. Good, whoever was there should be scared. He was relatively new to the muscle-for-hire scene but he would make sure his name was cemented into every thug's mind. The breathing was quickly silenced and Tombstone was finished waiting. “I haven’t done anything to you.” Tombstone paused briefly at the voice, it was soft, someone around his age he guessed. He stalked around the warehouse he was taking refuge in, the unforgiving rain swamping down through any opening it could find. As he pushed around wrecked furniture and avoided stray trash, Tombstone could hear faint curses and the occasional thump of something heavy against the cement. “Come out already, I will find you.” He could tell he was closing into the muttered panic. “That doesn’t seem like the best idea- Ow! Shit, you stupid-.” They stopped themself before they could finish their sentence and went back to silence. “Calling me stupid has got to be the dumbest thing you could have just done.” He growled. A gasp sounded before a quick reply sputtered out of them. “I wasn’t calling you stupid! My, uh…my leg got hit by something. It hurt.” Tombstone rolled his eyes at the obvious lie, continuing his search and now knew for sure it was a girl, using her voice to get closer. “What’s your name?” That brought a sharp smile to his face. “My name is Tombstone. And you won’t soon forget it once I get my hands on you.” “That’s not a name. That's something a kid calls themself to scare people.” “What?” “But you don’t have to tell me your name if you don’t want to. I’ll ask something else.” Her casual tone stopped him in his tracks. Anyone he’d threatened typically tried to threaten him back or ran but this sounded like trying to get to know a stranger. “How old are you?” After a few seconds of silence, she spoke again. “I’ll go first, I’m nineteen. I’ll be twenty in September, it's not September right?” She paused. “I don’t know the month.” Tombstone shook his head to stop himself from asking something in return. “I’m nineteen, I’ll be twenty in a week.” Ok, not the response he wanted but something about her casual question had pulled an honest answer out of him. “Oh wow! Happy early birthday then.” He could hear her trip over something which resulted in a couple of thuds and a few muttered curses. “Sorry, I tripped over a pole, I wasn’t cursing at you.” “That was a pretty big fall.” Gone back to searching, he could tell he was growing closer, as her volume steadily increased. “Yeah, I’m really clumsy right now.” “Right now?” A sudden scream made the teenager jump, his short silver hair moved with his head as it snapped toward the sound. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!” Finally able to pinpoint who he had been stalking, Tombstone jumped over a small hill of broken cement. He stilled. In front of him was not what he was expecting. It was a girl, around nineteen, just like she said. But trapped under a large piece of fallen roof, leaving her to get covered in the torrential rain, was a thick green tail. It looked like some sort of a reptile and his mind was running laps trying to understand what he was seeing. Mutant was all it said. He could see her eyes shimmering with tears as she lay horribly still, whining at the slightest movement of the tail and shivering under the pouring rain. When her eyes finally opened, grey-blue eyes locked onto his brown ones. She didn’t bother speaking, just curled her head to be under her arms and waited. “What are you?” Not the most eloquent thing he said but he’s staring at a girl with a lizard tail stuck under some rubble. Eloquent didn’t fit the situation. “I don’t know.” “Speak up.” “I don’t know! I don’t know what I’m doing here I was trying to get out of the rain!” he could tell she was keeping the tears from falling and was barely succeeding. Tombstone was hoping she didn’t cry, he was used to panic and breakdowns but only because he wanted to cause them. And he was causing another one, but he didn’t mean to for once. Yes, he’d been chasing her but she wasn’t much of a threat under the rubble. Begin walking towards her, she curled back up, whimpering loudly as she accidentally pulled on her tail. Tombstone kept silent as he moved to the debris keeping her trapped. Tombstone entered the rainy area and as carefully as he could he grabbed onto the rubble. He tugged with all his strength, the cement was heavy but nothing he couldn’t lift. The tail was soon moving slowly from under the rubble, tucking around the little ball of a person. She let her head raise just enough for their eyes to meet again as Tombstone dropped the cement. He could see her desire to run, but to her credit, she stayed still. Only curling back up when Tombstone took a step towards her. Unsure of what to do but tired of being wet, he moved out of the rain, sitting heavily a few feet away from her. “What’s your name.” He really wanted her to talk again. He’d never seen anyone like her. Yes, he’d heard of other mutants but had never met another in person and he found himself way too curious. “...” She’d clearly thought about answering, but if she had spoken the rain had covered her answer and she pulled tighter into her little ball. “Why don’t you get out of the rain? I doubt it feels good.” “I like it.” She mumbled. Progress! “It feels nice on… on my tail.” The word seemed strange on her lips as if the thick lump was a recent addition. “Where it was squished? Does water heal you or something?” He couldn’t keep the fascination out of his voice and it seemed she’d heard it. She giggles at his question. “No, water doesn’t heal me, well I don’t think it does.” She finally pulled her head from her arms, sitting up in a hunched position to check over bits of her tail that were in pain. A small wince when she prodded her tail gave her the answer. “No it doesn’t feel any better, it’ll just have to heal normally I guess.” She was talking, he had to keep this going. He studied her for a moment, trying to come up with a question as he finally had time to look her over. Her dark brown hair was thoroughly drenched, looking black thanks to the rain. Her skin was fairly pale, it was strange to see in contrast to the dark green tail and feet. Speaking of, her legs weren’t normal, they looked more like an animal’s, bent in two places instead of a human’s one. Toenails were replaced with pale claws jutting out in contrast to the dark skin. It seemed like her upper body was completely normal aside from the slightly sharper fingernails, it was her lower body that wasn’t human. The dark skin was shown thanks to shorts that paired with her t-shirt awkwardly against the cold. “Do you live close?”

#tssm #tssm tombstone

[heckinconfusedparade]

Part 5: A Tour Gone Wrong

Sonic is a gentleman. So much of a gentleman he offered to show Amy around Green Hills.

He shows her all his favourite spots and places that are special to him. He’s not the greatest tour-guide, as he’s never been on a tour before, and he doesn’t like to take things slow.

He does show her his old cave. She can sense the sadness of the place. The only thing really left in the cave is that washing machine treadmill he can no longer fit inside and a sentence carved into the wall of the cave “SONIC WAS HERE”.

Amy looks around “..you were here for 10 years? By yourself??” Sonic shuffles a little “yeah.. but it did fine! Only got flooded twice and snowed in 3 times!”

Amy frowns. She hates to think that at such a young age, Sonic had to hide and subject himself to such a lonely life. He looks a bit uncomfortable, so they leave the cave. He will open up about it more as time goes on.

In town they run into Wade. Sonic tries to pull Amy away, but it’s too late. He’s spotted them. “Well, well, look at the ladies man!” Wade grins at Sonic, who groans “hiiiii Waaaaade.”

“So, who’s this lovely little lady? New girlfriend?” Wade wiggles his eyebrows. Sonic puts his head in his hands as Amy laughs. She’s gonna take this one “we aren’t together. Just friends! We’ve only known each other a few days, and something tells me that he doesn’t like to take his relationships fast!” Sonic nods frantically “yep!! Just pals! Me n her! Bye Wade!” He lifts up Amy and zooms off. She clings to him for dear life as he runs. This new speed is scary, yet exhilarating! Adrenaline floods through her veins as if she were on a roller coaster.

Sonic takes her to the cliff overlooking the town and drops her off “sorry about that.. I.. don’t really know why I ran.” Amy gives him a soft smile “it’s okay, Sonic. It’s only natural to want to leave an uncomfortable situation. Just please give me a heads up before you bring me along to destroy the sound barrier!” Sonic returns her smile. He was uncomfortable. Talking about his potential romantic feelings towards others is not something he’s used to nor comfortable with.

They sit on a rock overlooking the town. Amy pulls out a deck of cards “have you ever heard of tarot cards?” she shuffles the deck. Sonic watches, mesmerized by how well she shuffles like it’s second nature.

“No..” he responds. Amy is happy to explain! “Tarot cards are used for divinatory purposes to tell you about your past, present, and future. They can also give advice on things like jobs or relationships, and how to solve problems. The universe shows your fate using the symbols of the cards.” She spreads out the deck backward so he can see the symbols she’s referring to. He looks at them with confusion and amazement “woah, you can do that?” “Yep! As long as you believe! Its.. what brought me here to you. Partially. It gave me the final push I needed to take that step and finally do something to help. Fate chose me.. maybe I’ll finally figure out who I’m meant to be.” Amy leads Sonic to a spot with less wind.

Amy shuffles the cards some more. She holds the deck in one hand and instructs Sonic to tap the top 3 times to transfer his energy to it. He does as told and she lays out the cards.

Sonic picks 3 cards and Amy lays them out facing down.

The first card representing the past is flipped- a reverse Hermit.

“I think this one is pretty straight forward. You were alone for so long.. forced to isolate yourself with no insight on what to do next. Every path you took just made you more lost than you were before with nobody to guide you.” Amy sighs. Sonic shrugs “hit the nail on the head with that one!”

The second card is turned representing the present- Judgement.

“Finding a new family and feeling safe for the first time in years finally brought you time to reflect on the past. You’re ready to face it. Things are finally becoming clear to you, like a thick fog lifting.” “That’s true! Creepy.”

Then the third card representing the future- The Hanged Man.

“..how much are you willing to do to protect your family?” Amy asks, suddenly shifting her gaze to look direction. Sonic chuckles nervously “..anything?” Amy frowns “this card represents a sacrifice. Martyrdom. Either you or someone in your life will make a huge sacrifice.” “L-like.. death?” “I don’t know. The future is always changing, Sonic. These cards tell you what you interpret it to be, not a future set in stone. A sacrifice can mean anything.” Amy starts to collect the cards “..listen to your heart, Sonic. Listen to your instincts. I haven’t known you very long, but I already know that you’re a sweet caring person who’s willing to put everything down for the sake of others. As.. charming as that quality is, please take care of yourself. People really.. really love you.” She holds Sonics hands. Sonic processes what he was told.. listening to the conflicting emotions whirling through his head.

“Amy.. don’t worry about me. I may be reckless, but I’m not careless. I promise to take care of myself.” Sonic let’s go of one of her hands to form a fist. Amy looks at him, confused. Sonic smiles “it’s an Earth custom. An unbreakable promise!” Amy smiles and fist bumps him “wow that’s so cool!” They share a laugh together.

While walking around the hills, the radar Tails gave Sonic starts going crazy. The two friends follow the radar. Amy spots something that triggers her to pull Sonic behind a bush with her. Sonic pulls twigs out of his quills and gives her an annoyed look before he sees what she’s seeing. 3 large robots are digging through dirt, bushes, rocks, anything. They appear to be looking for the same thing. The robots have different designs, and appear more structured to defend against incoming attacks.

The two hedgehogs sneak around either side of the bush.

Sonic springs for the left, rushing between the robots legs to get its attention. The badnik immediately activates attack mode and attempts to swing at Sonic. Sonic is able to leap up and get a solid kick to its chest. He makes a dent, but he realizes he’s going to need more momentum. He takes notes of the trees around him and gets an idea. He runs towards one tree and stops to plant his feet on the trunk of the tree and boost himself forward. He continues bouncing from tree to tree at Sonic speed, making impact with the robot mid jump. When the robot is knocked over, he jumps as high as he can and utilizes his speed and gravity to deliver a devastating spin dash into the robots chest. He repeats the smash several times until the robots body can no longer function.. or so he thought. The robot raises its arm powering a laser directly at Sonic who is still atop the robot. The last thing that robot sees is Sonics smug smirk as he moves its arm to point at its face. One robot down.

Amy goes for the right, summoning her hammer. She charges at the robot. The robot extends its arm to plant Amy to the ground, but Amy knocks its grappling hand aside with her hammer, and uses her hammer to latch and swing around the strong arm to volley herself onto the robots shoulder where she deals some insane damage via blunt force trauma to the head to the robot. Something catches her eye.. a light inside of the robots chest. She drives the handle of her hammer into the chest and pops open a panel. The robot tries to grab her, but Amy pins the arm between herself and the handle of her hammer, getting a good hold on it. She points the head of her hammer down and jabs it into the ground, shooting her and the arm into the air. Amy, now equipped with the robots arm, starts to beat the robot to death with it. Sonic, who just finished his robot, gets to witness this. He can’t believe what he’s seeing. It’s so cool! But also terrifying. When the robot dies, Sonic shouts to Amy “Geez Ames, remind me to not get on your bad side!” Amy responds by chuckling to herself and shaking her head. She peers into the panel she had opened. Amy reaches in and pulls out some kind of device. She examines it for a moment before pocketing it. She’ll give it to Tails when they get back to the house.

The two look for the 3rd robot who has retreated into the woods. They had some hope that maybe they could interrogate and spare the thing, but the Badnik has other plans. It starts to shoot bullets at them. Sonic spin dashes towards its arm, but his lack of momentum enabled the robot to bounce him back. Amy charges in with her hammer, but the robot grabs her hammer and flings it, sending her and the hammer to hit a tree. Sonic rushes over to Amy “are you ok??” he puts an arm around her and extends his hand to help her up. She takes his hand and shakily stands up “I’m.. im fine, thank you..” she gazes into his eyes, feeling her cheeks heating up. Sonic smiles at her “I’m glad you’re ok.” They spend another second looking at each other before they remember OH YEA THERES A KILLER ROBOT TRYING TO DESTROY THEM.

Sonic has a lightbulb moment and pulls Amy behind the tree “Amy, I need you to hit me with your hammer.” “What??”

“I’m going to jump. When I enter a spin dash, hit me with all you got at that robot.”

“But.. what if I hurt you?”

“You have to trust me, Amy.”

Sonic gives her a pleading look. Amy sighs and they get in position. Sonic jumps up and enters a speed dash. Amy swings her hammer as hard as she can at him, sending him straight through the robots chest, causing it to explode. Amy runs over to check on Sonic who has already bounced back up and is cheering “oh man! That was awesome!! Great job, Amy!” Sonic offers a high five that Amy happily takes. As Sonic pulls out the radar and takes his attention off of Amy, he doesn’t notice that she’s swooning. She sighs thoughtfully.. he’s so pretty, nice, handsome, strong, and handsome.. Amy is snapped out of her Rose Trance when Sonic goes “uhhh the emerald is moving.” The two look up and spot a figure flying away with the emerald. Sonic tries climbing to the top of the trees around him to possibly stop the person. Unfortunately this tree is too short.

He meets Amy back on the ground. Time to call reinforcements.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic the hedghog movie #sonic #movie sonic #amy the hedgehog #amy rose #movie amy