#mad world (tears for fears version) came on and i actually had to sit back and realise just how insane this song is | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

babyloposts · 3 years

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MY HERO DAD-CANNONS

Summary: How my favorite boys would react to their child having a nightmare. Some single dad head cannons because my baby fever is back

Includes: Bakugou Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku, Kaminari Denki, Takami Keigo

Warnings: none, fluff, aged up characters, references to GN parent titles

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Bakugou:

He was up and down the hall as quickly as the first wail left his daughter’s mouth. He was desperately hoping that the screams were not from a villain trying to kidnap her.

He was relieved for only a second as he saw her safely tucked into bed as he left her earlier that night, but the worry came back as he saw her broken out in a cold sweat.

Careful not to startle her awake Katsuki rubbed her forehead gingerly removing the sweat and bangs from its place matted on the top of her head.

“Kid. Wake up.” His tone soft. The one he reserved only for her.

“Daddy?” Her brows furrowed and her eyelashes fluttered open to see a stoic yet comforting face.

“You okay? I think you were having a nightmare. Scared the hell out of me.” He chuckled, still soothing her as her breathing slowed.

“M-me too. I was so scared Dad. The monsters were trying to get me.”

“What monsters?” Katsuki feared the worst. What if she had seen a villain and they knew she was his kid. That could mean she was being watched and in danger. He couldn’t let anything happen to her.

“From the movie dad. The one I watched when hanging out with the Midoriya’s.” Bakugou’s face scrunched and his daughter winced in fear of being in trouble for watching a PG-13 movie.

“What’d I tell you about watching scary movies with Deku’s kid. Now look at you all scared with nightmares.” Bakugou scolded, but his expression softened. He was just glad she was safe.

“I’m sorry Dad. I won’t watch scary movies anymore. I don’t want any monsters to get me.”

“It’s okay. I promise I won’t let any monsters get you. They have to go through me first, alright squirt.” She nodded and gave Bakugou a small smile, knowing she was safe and in the most capable hands of the #2 hero.

Bakugou smoothed her hair back and placed a kiss to her forehead. “Love you squirt. Sweet Dreams.”

“I love you too Dad.”

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Midoriya:

Izuku is no stranger to weird dreams, but he had never expected his One for All induced visions to transfer to his daughter as well.

He wouldn’t even know if she hadn’t been weeping by his bedside at one in the morning.

“D-daddy.” A small voice warbled out next to Midoriya. His eyes shot open not expecting to see a teary eyed five year old only a few inches away from his face.

“What’s wrong Bubby?” Izuku quickly sat up in bed and moved to the edge of the bed, scooping the crying child into his arms.

“I had a bad dream.” She whimpered as he wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Aww I’m sorry.” He hugged her tightly to his chest rocking slightly to soothe her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She nodded slightly before starting. “I was so scared Daddy. You were there and somebody—a bad man—stole your quirk away from you. He was too strong. And nobody would help you. Not even All Might. And I was too little to help you, Daddy and I’m so sorry.” And just like that the tears were flowing from her tear ducts again.

Izuku shushed her and started back trying to soothe her again. “Don’t worry, I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere.” He brought his daughter back to her bedroom and tucked her into her Princess themed bed. “Are you comfy?” She asked and she nodded.

Izuku gave her a kiss to her temple before getting up to move to a bookshelf on the far side of the room. “Would you like to hear a story?” She nodded and Izuku climbed into the side of the bed and wrapped his arm around her.

Midoriya read the story book to her that were more kiddie versions of some of All Might’s best missions (even in fatherhood he was a total fanboy).

His daughter was knocked before he was even halfway through the book, the tales of heroism and safety lulling her into a peaceful sleep. Although she was peaceful and very cute Izuku had realized his grave mistake far too late.

His daughter was the lightest sleeper he knew. It would be almost impossible to remove himself from the bed without waking her up.

He tried several times to stand from the bed without causing her to stir, but ultimately failed and gave in to the reality that he’d be spending the night on the edge of a twin bed.

It wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but Izuku would give up anything for his little girl, even the comforts of his own bed, to make her feel safe.

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Kaminari:

It took a lot to get Denki up, which wasn’t always a good thing having such a young child to look after. He was finally awoken by the third kick to his ribs by a little foot in bed.

“Ouch, what the-?” Denki whipped the blanket down to reveal a small body in the fetal position hunched against his side.

“Wha- hey Little Man. What happened? Why aren’t you sleeping in your big kid bed?”

The small boy was unmoving, pretending to be asleep to prevent being bothered or moved from his comfortable position.

“I know you’re not sleep, Buddy. Tell me what’s wrong. Please?” Finally Denki’s son’s head poked up from his arm shields and showed off his pouty face.

“I don’t want to sleep in my big kid. It’s too dark and scary in there. I don’t want to have bad dreams.” The child’s eyes started to water.

Denki sighed. “Bud, I thought we agreed that when you turned four you’d stop sleeping in Papa’s bed and sleep by yourself.”

“I don’t want to anymore. I’m scared. It’s too dark and you are too far away.” He whined. Denki knew that he was the age where he needed to start being able to self-soothe and sleep by himself, but he couldn’t deny his son. He was a good kid, maybe with a bit of separation anxiety, but all around he was pretty easy.

Denki’s nanny would probably scold him for babying his son, but he didn’t care. It’s not like Denki liked sleeping alone anyway.

“Bud, you can’t sleep down in the covers like that. You’ll get way too hot.” A small smile spread over Denki’s lips as his son shuffled his way up onto Denki’s chest with his arms wrapped around his neck in a death grip.

Denki chuckled once the grip loosened and rubbed his son’s back as he slipped into sleep. “Can we try sleeping in your big kid bed tomorrow night?” Denki whispered.

“I’ll try Papa, but no promises.” Denki chuckled and closed his eyes in content.

“That’s okay Buddy. I love you.”

“Love you too, Papa.”

———————————————————————

Takami Keigo:

Keigo really hoped that an intruder wasn’t in the house right now. He knew it was irrational to think, but stranger things have happened, plus he was already worked up from the last patrol he went on last night where he fought a surprisingly difficult villain.

Stealthily Kei climbed out of bed and sent a feather flying into the kitchen where the noise was coming from to scope out the intruder.

When he heard a high pitched scream and low thud he was actually more relieved than worried.

He rushed from behind his bedroom door out to see his son sat on the ground in front of the open refrigerator.

“The hell are you doing up? It’s 2 AM!” Keigo whisper yelled to ensure he didn’t bother the neighbors.

“Sorry Dad. I was hungry.”

“What are you still hungry for? You basically ate a whole chicken by yourself for dinner. At this rate keeping up with your eating habits cost more than the rent.” Takami chided, but he couldn’t be too mad, his son was a growing boy and they needed their sustenance.

“I’m sorry Dad. I just woke up and wanted a snack that’s all.” That’s what he said, but the glossiness in his son’s eyes gave him away.

Keigo bent over to pick up the food that had fallen out of the fridge and grab a carton of ice cream out of the freezer along with two spoons. His son watched his father intently as he moved to the kitchen island to sit and patted the stool next to him.

“Come sit down and have your snack.” Keigo sighed. Reluctantly his son sat down beside him and grabbed a spoon scooping into the slightly freezer burnt cookies and cream.

“So tell me what’s really going on. You wouldn’t tear up just from me knocking you on your ass earlier.” His son’s eyes grew wide, surprised that his dad had noticed that small detail.

“There’s nothing wrong.”

“I know when you’re lying to me Kid. So just go ahead and tell me.” Kei said wrapping an arm around his son’s shoulders.

He took a deep breath before finally caving. “I... I had a dream about Baba. When they died.” Keigo’s usual cocky demeanor faded away and his eyes softened as he recalled the painful memory.

“Wow.” Keigo said as he cleared his throat. “That uh... hasn’t happened for a while. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault Dad. I just wished... I don’t know. I just miss them a lot.” He began to tear up again. Keigo sighed. It has been almost seven years since his significant other died tragically from cancer. Their son was just a kid then. What Five year old can really comprehend that and grieve a parent properly. Since then Kei’s been doing his best as a single Dad, but maybe he should have talked about them more.

“I know you miss them Kid. I do too. I miss them everyday, but you remind me of them. You’ve got the same face and spirit they had, so it’s like a little piece of ‘em is always with us. They’re in you.” Keigo’s grip tightened around his son’s shoulder and he left a comforting rub up and down his forearm.

“I know sayin all this isn’t going to bring them back, but just know they’re always in your heart and they loved you very much.”

“Thanks Dad.”

“No problem Kid. Just finish your ice cream and get to bed. I don’t want you late for school in the morning.”

His son nodded. Keigo stood from the island and ruffled the hair of his son before depositing his dirty spoon in the sink. Before he made it all the way to his bedroom a voice rang out behind him.

“I love you Dad.”

Keigo smiled softly. “Love you too Kid.”

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hikarus-shida · 3 years

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Hook: "Stepping Up"

Hook x single mother!reader

genre: fluff

summary: when hook fell in love, he wasn't expecting the girl he cared about most to have a secret as big as motherhood.

warnings: none

requested by: anon

tag list: @cutierocker202 @bec0m @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @elitehunter

Writing this was really sweet! I enjoyed writing this out. This probably doesn’t even need a part 2, but I need to make a headcanon or something about dad!Hook now!!! :)

imagines masterlist

When Hook and you started dating, he knew you had priorities that would keep you from coming out or had you cutting your time with him short, but he didn’t know what it was and didn’t like to pry. In his eyes, your business was your business and if you were doing something that would betray him, the truth would come out soon enough. Hook, however, felt like he knew you well enough to know you wouldn’t jeopardize your relationship with him or at least, he hoped he knew you well enough.

Hook would give you all the time in the world to get done what you needed to, and the sweetheart that he was, would never give you a hard time for it. So when you called him up an hour after leaving his place so soon, Hook was extremely happy. But of course, his happiness quickly turned into worry when you told him that you needed to speak to him about something serious and wanted him over as soon as he could come.

Hook tried his hardest to refrain from thinking negatively, but he wasn’t expecting you to call him about needing to talk. He was expecting to hear about what you were currently doing, how your day was going otherwise, and practically anything except whatever you wanted to speak about.

Hook heavily considered turning around and leaving once he had approached your front door, but didn’t want to do that to you. He didn’t want to treat you like your last boyfriend had, not wanting to put you through that same pain again. It was already hard enough getting you to break down your walls down to him, he refused to betray you. Hook knocked on your door, extremely surprised to see a toddler in your arms when you had opened the door.

You let Hook walk inside and shut the door with a free hand, as he quickly made himself at home. “Is that your sister? She’s adorable.” Hook asked, looking at you and then looking at your daughter with a smile before looking back at you. You sighed and put your daughter on the ground gently, watching as she walked over to Hook with a toothy grin on her face.

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” You said, a slight smile creeping up on your face as you saw Hook engage with your daughter. He opened up to her so quickly just as she did with him, the two playing with her doll while he continued to pay his attention to you without neglecting your daughter. “She’s actually my daughter... I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, I just got so afraid and I didn’t know how you would react.”

Hook’s face immediately became unreadable, but he tried his hardest to not let his body language change in front of your daughter. He didn’t her want to pick up on his sudden change in energy and ruin the fun she was having playing dolls with him. You knew what he was doing and appreciated it, but his silence was deafening and it scared the hell out of you; you just wanted him to say something, anything at this point.

A part of you knew this wouldn’t be this best conversation to have in front of your daughter, so you decided to take her out of the equation. You let Hook sit in his thoughts as you picked her up, much to your daughters dismay, and took her to her room for nap time. Luckily enough for you, Hook had tired her out somehow from only playing dolls and you mentally thanked him. When you came back to your living room, Hook was standing and waiting for you.

You slowly walked over to him, standing a few inches away. Hook had a hand over his forehead, as he rubbed it, trying to figure out the right words to say. “So, that’s why you’d leave all the time?” He asked, wanting to make sense of everything. At least, you weren’t leaving to do bad things.

“Yeah, sometimes her nanny would have to leave a bit early or my mom couldn’t keep her for too long so I’d have to take over from there.” You said as he only nodded in response. Hook rubbed his hands on his jeans and cleared the gap in between you. He took you into his arms, which let you release a breath you didn’t know you had been holding in. “I’m not mad or upset with you. I do wish you told me earlier because I’ve been missing out on spending time with the two of you.”

Tears spilled out of your eyes without any of your control. You knew Hook was different, but his response moved you. It was unexpected and it made your heart pump with so much love, knowing that he was open to all of this. Hook wiped your tears and smiled, “I don’t even know your daughter yet, which I’d love to by the way, but I already know that I’d do anything for you and her. This doesn’t bother me, it could never.”

You pulled Hook into a hug, trying your hardest to stop your tears from falling. All your fear and anxiousness surrounding this topic marched away from your mind, you no longer had anything to worry about because Hook didn’t intend on leaving. He was going to stay.

Stay because he loved you, because he enjoyed time short time spent with your babygirl, and because he wanted to step up for you. He didn’t have to do any of that, which he knew, but he wanted to. You meant the world to Hook and a mini version of you on the planet, a thought that he constantly wondered about, was now a reality for him even if she wasn’t his.

#hook #aew hook #aew hook imagine #aew hook headcanon #aew hook drabble #aew #aew imagine

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tocrackerboxpalace · 3 years

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January, 1972

Summary: In Paul's first interview since the breakup of the Beatles, things go slightly awry when a nosy reporter gets more out of him than she bargained for.

Part 3/3 (1, 2)

The doorbell rang.

Paul jolted awake. He was still on the couch, unsure of how long he’d been sitting there, but pale morning light seeped in through the cracks of the curtains.

In a half-daze, he struggled to his feet, trying to ascertain his surroundings. Why had he been on the couch? Who was at the door? Why were they bothering him at—he peered at the clock on the wall, startled to find that it was already 10:00 a.m.

He fumbled with the locks until the door finally creaked open, flooding the living room with bright daylight and making him wince.

“What the fuck did you do?”

Paul’s body froze at the figure in the doorway, clear as day despite a sloppy hat-and-sunglasses disguise.

“I—”

“I don’t want some bullshit excuse, Paul, because I woke up to reporters halfway up my arse and Rings on the line talking about some fucking interview you did last night. What did you do?”

“I-I’m sorry,” Paul stammered helplessly.

John pushed his way past Paul into the house, tossing his cover to the side with vitriol. He collapsed on the couch where Paul had been asleep only moments before and threw his head in his hands.

Paul sensed that it was his turn to explain himself, though nothing on earth quite sounded less appealing. “I might have… sort’ve… confessed.”

John raised his head, glaring at him wearily. Go on.

“I didn’t mean to. They cornered me. Wouldn’t stop asking about me new song, and it is about you, of course it’s about you, but I—I thought I was vague enough to—”

John laughed sharply, interrupting Paul’s train of thought. “Doesn’t matter anymore. I called you out on it, and now everyone’s lookin’ for cryptic bullshit in your songs.”

Paul pretended not to feel annoyed at the assertion. Suddenly, another memory came full force back to him, and his voice got quiet, eyes flicking away from John’s penetrative gaze. “They asked me about India.”

“They what? Paul, how the fuck could they know about India?”

Anger rose in his throat as he fought to defend himself in what seemed like an unwinnable case. “I don’t fucking know. No one actually knows but us.” There was an accusatory edge to his voice.

John was incredulous. “You think I had something to do with that?”

Paul crossed his arms, though he still wouldn’t meet his gaze. “It certainly wasn’t me.”

John was on his feet again in a flash of fury. His voice was saturated with sarcasm, but Paul didn’t miss the lingering of hurt in there as well. “Sure. You got me pinned, Macca. I’m such a little media whore that I went and spilled every little detail of the worst moment of my life to the press. And because I’m a selfish goddamn prick I encouraged them to ask you about it in an interview, so that I could laugh at your pain in my great new fuckin’ life without you. Because why? Because I like seeing you suffer?” In his effort to avoid John’s eyes, Paul noticed that the man’s hands were shaking. “I thought you knew me better than to believe in the goddamn press portrait of me.”

There was a lot more that seemed to be said in John’s words than the words themselves.

“You’re still bitter,” Paul whispered. The wrong thing to say.

John’s eyes flashed dangerously. He was shouting now. “Of course I’m fuckin’ bitter, Paul! You turned me down. You said no to me. I loved you more than—”

“Don’t,” Paul pleaded hoarsely, tears suddenly buzzing at the brim of his eyelids.

“You don’t get to do this, Paul,” he continued without missing a beat. “I loved you more than I’d ever loved anyone in my life. A-and I couldn’t explain it, because it was a different love altogether, and I’m not sure if that made it true with you, or just better, but-but it was real. It was the most real thing that ever happened to me, and I was so certain that you understood that too.”

“John,” Paul begged.

“But you didn’t. At least, not on the same level, because if you had then we wouldn’t be here right now.” John waved a vague hand in the air, his cheeks bright with fury. Paul couldn’t bear to see it reflected in his eyes. “So you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to write songs and go on television talking about how much I hurt you.”

Paul only swallowed.

“Did you know how fuckin’ hard it was to listen to that song, Paul?” John said abruptly, his gaze straight out the window and his hands balled into fists. His lip was trembling in its place under his teeth. “To hear you say that you were in love with me?”

“I am–“

“Bullshit!” John yelled, and for a brief moment, Paul’s eyes were drawn up and he thought that John might actually hit him. When John slumped back in surprise at his own outburst, Paul felt a flood of rage overtake him, energy transferred from one to the other.

“You don’t fucking understand, John! You’re not like me! You’ve never given two shits about what the world thinks of you. You act like you do, with us, like you’re some poor misunderstood soul, but you don’t.” Paul began listing on his fingers, ignoring John’s protesting gape. “The Jesus comment, Yoko, Two Virgins, writing song after song knowing they’re going to be banned. You spew your bullshit and do whatever you please and sometimes it feels like you’re trying to give the world the finger and that’s fine, con-fuckin-gratulations for you, but I’m not like that.”

He suddenly felt very tired as John closed his mouth into a firm line. Paul recognized the expression. Understanding. “I’m not like that. It matters to me. And I don’t know what that says about me, or how to fix it. So simply the sudden legality of it all couldn’t magically change my mind. And now that’s something I have to live with, for the rest of my days, because I know now that it would have been worth it. And we could’ve handled it together. I didn’t understand then, but I do now. And I do love you.”

John rolled his eyes in helpless exasperation. “So what do you want to do, eh? Say fuck-all to our wives, our families? Our new lives? Just because you were too chicken-shit to say something four years ago?” He shook his head. “It’s too late for us, Paul. What’s that they say? Right person, wrong time?”

The polite smile John gave in closing made Paul feel sick to his stomach.

“Why did you come here, John?”

The defendant shrugged. He took a few steps backwards and sunk back onto the couch. “Honest?”

Paul hesitated. He might have had enough honesty for the day.

John sighed. “Wanted to see you.” He gave a sudden glare, shooting down Paul’s curious eyebrows. “Not because I missed you. I wanted to see you try and explain yourself. I hadn’t known what happened in the interview, but I’m not bloody stupid. I could tell it was something of this… scale. And I was so fuckin’ tired of trying to read you over the phone.”

Paul felt the strange urge to smile. And suddenly, he was laughing, undeterred even by the expression of utter bewilderment on John’s face.

“Christ, all that? Isn’t it, like, five in the morning there?”

“Well, yeah, I told you—Rings called, and you Englishmen have no bloody consideration for time zones.”

Paul let out a chuckle that felt far too relieving. His smile quieted as reality began to sink in. “I’m sorry.”

John met his eyes for only a moment. “S’not your fault. They do it to me, too.”

“What are you going to do?”

He shrugged. “Deny. Deny, deny, deny. Don’t know what he’s talking about, must’ve gone mad, trying to frame me as a queer. Wanted to stir up a fight. I’ll think of something.”

Paul swallowed. He wasn’t sure what he expected.

John peered over his glasses, his mouth pressed into a firm line. He removed them slowly, folding them in his lap. When he looked up again, Paul felt a shiver travel down his spine at the familiarity of the amber eyes on his, unprotected, unveiled. They hadn’t looked that way to him in so long.

“It’s only me,” John said quietly. Paul could hear in the tone that it was meant to be soothing, but the words made his heart twitch violently. “You know…not to take everything I say about you to heart, yeah?”

Paul nodded, gaze cast downwards for fear of brimming tears.

“Sometimes I mean it. I’m allowed to mean it. But this?” He sighed. “Whatever happens, you have to know that we have to. They’ll believe us so long as we present it as another one of our publicized scraps.”

“I’ve got to be the bad guy,” Paul conceded.

John nodded a confirmation. “I’ll, erm… I’ll say that it’s an attack. That you’re trying to frame me as something that I’m not, because you’re still hung up on the breakup. And it’s my reputation you’re worried about. I’ll say you’ve been on a bender, and lucid-dreamed-up an idealized version of our partnership. I’ll make another offhand comment about how we hardly wrote together much less knew one another, and you… You won’t say anything. You’ll stay here with—” he suddenly seemed to choke on the words. “Linda. The kids. And you can talk to her about it, I don’t care. But that’s what I’m going to say, and you have to be okay with that.”

Paul only stared. He knew in the back of his mind that John was right, but that didn’t help the nausea coursing through his veins.

“You have to be okay with that,” John repeated, his voice trembling slightly. “For both of us.”

The words were so far from the truth in some ways and yet too close to the truth in others. John offered a hand to shake, but appeared to think better of it, withdrawing the deal almost immediately. He knew Paul would agree, anyway, of course he would. And neither of them knew if they could handle the contact, no matter how brief.

“I should be going,” John said after a moment.

“You could stay,” Paul offered, his mind frantically arranging a comfortable setup for John to spend a few days.

John pushed himself up off of the couch and gazed around the room briefly, looking for something he hadn’t left. “Why?”

The image of the pull out couch in the den crumbled to death in his imagination. “Yeah. Okay.”

John gave one last, awkward nod, both men standing helplessly in the middle of the room. He hesitated for another moment before shuffling over to the front door, grabbing up his hat and glasses beside it, and pulling it open.

Paul wasn’t sure what made him say it, but he couldn’t stop the words from flowing out. “I love you.”

John scratched the back of his neck before turning to go. “I–yeah. See you around, Paul.”

He shut the door behind him.

#the beatles #beatles fanfiction #paul mccartney #john lennon #linda mccartney (mentioned)#ringo starr (briefly mentioned)#interviews #confessions #songwriting feud of the seventies #beatles breakup #part 3 #part 3 of 3

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kpurereactions · 3 years

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ca you do a bts or nct version of the got7 (a member yells at you) imagine you did a while ago :) thank you

PT. 1

Your stomach was a never ending pit of nerves. All day circling the web were pictures of H/N smiling as he whispered in some girl you didn't recognized ear. You paced, constantly checking his location as you waited for him to get home. You had a plan, to ask him about the pictured rationally, and not jump to any conclusions until you had a chance to talk to him. It was the right thing to do, and for all you knew it was one of his make up artists and she was fixing something on his face. You knew not to believe the comments on line. ‘We need to talk.’

Your heart stopped at his text, and everything you did to try to get yourself to calm down and think rationally. He showed up guns a blazing, throwing his backpack on the ground and kicking off his shoes. Seeing the way he was reacting made your blood boil. He had no right to be the mad one in this situation.

“What is your deal?” You asked as he completely ignored you to open your fridge.

“My deal? Why, do you think your special enough to know everything that is going through my head?” He snapped back.

“Um, no? I guess? But I definitely think Im special enough to get an answer to something as drastic as this?” You said with a sarcastic tone as you slid your phone with the picture on it across the counter at him.

“God, you really are crazy, aren't you.” He started, his voice raising. “You know, maybe instead of obsessing over me, and trying to keep your relevance through me you should grow up and get a life of your own!”

He watched you with hateful eyes as tears started to well up. He knew the one thing you were the most insecure about was the perception that you were only with him for his fame.

You turned and walked into your bedroom, locking the door behind you. What ever was going on in the photo didn't matter anymore. He went somewhere you never thought he would go, and the thought that he felt like you were only with him to stay ‘relevant’ broke your heart.

Taeyong:

He must have left after his blow up because there was no attempt to come after you. You laid in your room crying for hours, and when the tears finally seemed to stop you left your room to a dark apartment. It wasn't hard to notice the things he brought with him were all gone, and he was no where to be found. You sat in your dark apartment not doing anything for a long time, not really sure what to do. Or where you stood with Taeyong. It wasn't until your phone lit up did your eyes leave the window you stared out of. It was him. You contemplated not answering, but deciding to be the bigger person you answered and put the phone on speaker, but didn't say anything.

“Y/n?” He said. His voice completely different from before. You didn't answer. “Im sorry.” He started, you could imagine him hunched over picking at his nails as he spoke. You thought about biting back but chose against it, not wanting to cause anymore damage. “That picture was a set up, if you will. My make up artist wanted a picture that made it look like we were in a relationship to show he friends but when her friends posted it it became a huge problem. I spent all day being yelled at for something I didn't realize was happening. I shouldn't have taken it out on you.

You could hear the sadness in his voice, so you had to forgive him, but you made it very clear that you were not okay, and he would spend how ever long it took to make it up to you.

Kun:

He’d be quick to realize just how out of place he was and would quickly run after you, stopping to door before it could fully lock. He’d just grab you and hug you tightly. He wouldn't say anything, because he wouldn't know what to say, but you could tell by the way he hugged you he wanted to take back everything he said. He’d hold you until you eventually wrapped your arms around him too, and once you did a tear would roll down his cheek. “I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have taken my bad day out on you.” He said, a sad smile on his lips as he tucked a stray hair or two of yours behind your ear.

He’d tell you all about his day and how he got ripped for falling into a trap set for him by a stylist. He wouldn't ignore what it was he said either, and make it very clear that he didn't think at all that you were in anyway only with him because he was famous.

By the time night rolled around the two of you had slumped into the bed and laid there giggling, as he got around to telling you about the good things that happened during his day.

Taeil:

Speaking to anyone like this was so out of character for him, and it shocked him just as much as it shocked you that he exploded like that. He’d stand there, staring at your door, not sure what to do, and he’d stand there, staring as he listened to your sobs, completely frozen. He’d eventually move to the couch, and sit there with his head in his hands, completely confused as to what it was he was going to do to make this situation better.

When you finally came out, the sight of youre red face made him break down. You were shocked to see he was still there. You were also confused as to why he didnt try to talk to you in the hours past. He would just look at you with the saddest eyes and and when you sat next to him hed turn his head into your shoulder and whisper ‘im sorry’ as you stroked his hair.

You wouldnt be able to bring up the photo again. Youd hear from other members about the situation and how the picture looked 100x worse than it actually was. Theyd also tell you that you werent the only one accusing him of something he would never do in a hundred years, and how he came to your place right after Johnny and Jaehyun ripped him for it looking like he was being unfaithful.

Johnny:

You would hear the front door slam right after you slammed your own door, and you wouldn't hear from him until the next day. You had spent alright feeling sick to your stomach, convinced now that your relationship was over. He had never yelled at you like that, so to be in this situation you feared the worse. The next day you laid on your couch, still softly crying at the thought of loosing him, and the last words he would have said to you.

You got up only when there was a knock on your door. Lifelessly you walked to it and slowly open it. Only to turn around and walk away when you saw Johnny standing there looking just a rough as you probably did. You turned to walk away but the feeling of him quickly grabbing you from behind and holding you tight made you tense up.

You honestly didnt know if you could forgive him, but as he held you tightly he spoke into your shoulder a sincere apology. You turned when he was finished to see he had started to cry and when you walked away slightly he let out a soft sob.

“You cant treat me like that.” You said sternly, tears forming in your own eyes. You watched as he nodded and sighed before wrapping your blanket around him and accepting him as he wrapped you in his arms. The two of you stood like that for a while, and once he was finally ready to talk again he explained everything and how it was just one big misunderstanding.

Yuta:

He wouldnt take you storming off as an answer. He would be fully aware of his actions and he would act fast to fix it. He’d grab your hand before you could turn to close the door and pull you back out to the kitchen. He’d point at your phone and tell you quickly that this photo was a misunderstanding and the person who took it posted it with malicious intent. As soon as that was out his tone would soften. He would explain where he was coming from. How he had just got out of a five hour meeting where he had to convince people who didnt believe him the truth and then help identify the person who posted the photo.

When that was done explaining that he acknowledge what he said. But by the time he had gotten to that you were already holding his hand and had already made up your mind to forgive him. Hed sigh, feeling bad now for ruining the evening, but things would get back to normal when you suggested food, and the two of you would be able to unwind on the couch

Doyoung:

Doyoung would be in shock at your reaction, and then what he said would really settle in. Hed sit at your door, knocking and pleading for you to open the door. Hed send apologies your way through the door as he desperately tried to get you to open it. When you finally did, hed just look at you and when the tear you were trying to hold back finally broke hed sigh and wrap you in a hug. Hed tell you he didnt mean what he said. He’d apologize for taking his hard day out on you and ask you if you wanted to hear about the picture.

The look on his face though had already confirmed that it was all a miss understanding, so when you shook your head he would nod and pull you into a soft, sweet kiss. Hed ask you if you forgave him and you would see the world lift off his shoulders when you nodded. Seeing how hard he fought to get you to understand was more than enough.

I was going to do all 23 members but... its alot. So heres part one.

Kitty

#nct #nct reactions #taeyong #kun #teil #johnny #yuta #doyoung

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youreacowgirllikeme · 3 years

Text

Solace

note: this is for @cnnownsme who requested a soft, comforting Chris fic, I hope you like it! xx

words: 1.9k

warnings: mild swearing, angst, bit of smut (nothing too graphic though)

enjoy :)

You were startled awake by the sound of breaking glass. Groaning softly, you looked around, unsure what exactly had happened. It was dark, only the glow of your computer screen was illuminating the kitchen. It seemed like you fell asleep sitting on the dining table and accidentally knocked over your glass of water, which now laid shattered on the ground.

"Shit!” you swore under your breath and carefully got up to turn on the light, trying to avoid the shatters of glass littered around on the floor.

You were in the midst of cleaning up the mess you made when you heard soft footsteps coming closer.

“Baby, it’s the middle of the night, what happened?” The sleepy voice of your boyfriend asked. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, dressed in only pajama bottoms, his curly hair tousled from sleep. His eyes squinted against the light, and he looked so cute that you wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and follow him to bed. But you couldn’t.

“I was still up working on that article, fell asleep and knocked over my water glass. Go back to bed, Chris, everything is alright.” You replied, tiredness and frustration evident in your voice. You didn’t want to argue now, you knew you weren’t getting enough sleep, but the work had to be done either way.

“Y/N, please come to bed with me, I promise you’ll be much more productive after a good night’s sleep.” Chris tried to convince you, reaching out to put his huge arms around your smaller frame and pull you against his chest. You resisted the temptation to just snuggle up to his warm, comforting body, wriggling yourself free from his embrace instead.

“Chris, I told you, the deadline is next week and if I don’t have a first draft ready by tomorrow my boss is going to have my ass.” You snapped, starting to grow annoyed, the lack of sleep and stress were taking a toll on your mood. “Go back to bed, please.”

Chris looked taken aback, but he yielded, pressing a kiss to your forehead and murmuring a quick good night before disappearing into the direction of your bedroom again.

You felt a flash of guilt, you knew he only wanted what was best for you, but you were in a position at work that didn’t allow for any mistakes. You were one of the youngest members of the team, and your strong opinions that you weren’t afraid to voice made you a thorn in the side of your boss. You had a target on your back, and you were not about to give them any reason to fire you.

Uttering a deep sight, you made yourself some coffee and continued working.

+++

A week later, things had spiraled out of control for you. Your boss was giving you so much heat, criticizing you and your work whenever he could. You were running on only a couple of hours of sleep during the last days, your appetite was almost gone, replaced by a constant queasiness in your stomach.

Between your job and Chris’ show, you haven’t been able to spend any quality time together, and on the rare occasion that you saw each other, you were tired and easily angered. Chris went out of his way to shield you from stress and tried talking to you multiple times.

He told you that he was worried, that you looked unwell and that you should consider taking some days off. But you had your walls up, dismissing him. He couldn’t understand the position you were in, he was well established as a journalist while you were still at the very base of the food chain. You had to put everything you had into this job, or you would never reach the top.

Still, you could see how your behavior hurt Chris and felt incredibly guilty about it. He was your rock, the most important person in your life, and you wanted nothing more than just crawl into bed with him for a week, or fly to a desert island, just the two of you. But talking about your emotions and fears had never been your strong suit, so you were just eating everything up. But you could feel breaking point approaching, and as usual, it hit you when you least expected it.

It was Friday evening; you had handed in your finished article a couple of hours before and were now preparing for what was hopefully going to be a more relaxed weekend. You currently were in the kitchen, trying to make dinner. Chris was still at work, but you wanted to surprise him and spend an actual evening with him, to make up for everything you put him through the last week.

Suddenly, your phone was ringing, your boss’s number showing up on the screen. You thought about just ignoring it, it was a Friday night after all, but maybe something important came up.

You instantly regretted taking the call. Your boss was basically tearing the article you gave him apart, disagreeing with so many of your arguments. He was calling you a failure and threatening to fire you if there wasn’t a completely revised version on his desk by Monday.

You managed to hold the tears at bay while you were still on the phone, but right after you hung up, you collapsed. Your body just slumped against the wall of the living room, sliding down until your head was between your knees.

The tears were flowing steadily, sobs wrecking your body while all the anger, stress, fear and pressure of the past weeks came crashing down on you like a tidal wave. You curled up against the wall and just cried, the world around you going blurry. You had lost track of time when you sensed rapid footsteps coming towards you. Chris was home.

“Babe, what is wrong?” his concerned voice barely came through to you, and you were crying to much to give an answer. Suddenly, you were picked up by a pair of strong arms and as soon as you felt the comforting presence of Chris’ warm body, the floodgates really opened.

He laid you down onto the sofa, covered you with a soft blanket and just held you while you let out all the repressed feelings that have been eating you up. His large hand was softly stroking little circles across your back while you cried your eyes out until there were wet patches all over his shirt.

When you finally calmed down and looked up at him, his eyes were full of worry.

“Talk to me, Y/N, please. I don’t know what is happening, and I can’t help you if you don’t tell me. I’m not able to just sit back and watch you fall apart in front of me.” His voice was stained with emotion, and it was breaking your heart to see him so affected by the situation. He was the more empathic part of your relationship and had a keen intuition for other people’s feelings, and you had given him such a hard time, constantly pushing him away. But you knew that now was the time to fess up, you couldn’t continue like this anymore.

So you talked, about the amount of stress you have been under, about how you snuck out of bed when he was asleep to go back to work so you wouldn’t worry him, how your boss was almost bullying you recently, giving you immense word loads, impossible death lines and throwing insults at you at every chance he got. You told Chris that you could barely stomach any kind of food anymore, and that the sole thought of going back to work on Monday almost made you vomit.

When you finished, Chris was speechless. Then he reached out and just gave you the biggest, tightest hug, peppering little kisses to your hairline and stroking your back. You allowed yourself to relax for what maybe was the first time in weeks, sinking into Chris embrace. You just felt safe in his arms, like nothing bad could ever reach you as long as he was holding you.

When you looked up to him, his eyes were so warm, open and full of love that you could feel yourself tearing up again.

“You.” Chris said, putting your face between his hands and bringing it close to his. “are the most brilliant, kind, dedicated and resourceful woman I’ve ever met. You are intelligent, gentle, caring and so committed to everything you do. And the fact that those people at your work managed to take away your joy makes me so incredibly mad. But this is not about me, this is about you. You have to get your perspective back, and your love for what you. I don’t know why you kept all this from me, but I don’t care, I just want to see you smile again.”

You were crying again now, but this time it was from being totally emotionally overwhelmed. You loved this man so much, and all that stress paired with your own stubbornness had clouded your judgement and prevented you from seeing that the help and support you desperately needed had been right in front of you the whole time.

“I love you so much, baby.” You sobbed, “and I’m so terribly sorry for the way I treated you. I just wasn’t able to see the horizon anymore, I feel like I am drowning, and I don’t know what to do.”

“You need to get out of there, Y/N. I know you poured your soul into this job, but it’s breaking you down and I won’t let that happen. I am going to help you with finding a better place to work. I won’t stand by while you lose your passion and your enthusiasm. I love you too much for that.” His voice was calm, but heavy with emotion. He was being serious, and deep in your heart, you knew he was right.

You just nodded, to worn down to utter another word.

He pressed a tender kiss to your mouth, and the warmth that spread to your body when you felt his lips on yours was like a bright burst of light after walking around in darkness for days.

“We are going to make a plan and talk everything through tomorrow, baby. For now, let me take care of you.” Chris said, stroking your hair and planting small kisses along the side of your face, down your jaw and neck.

His hands were stroking your sides softly and you sighed, leaning back into the sofa cushions, just enjoying the warm feeling of Chris’ love and attention.

His hands and lips were slowly making their way all over your body and you were getting softer and more pliant with every inch of skin he was exposing to his ministrations. When his feather light kisses finally found their way between your legs, you let out a breathy moan, burying your hands in his curly hair. His tongue and fingers teased and caressed you until you came apart under him, his name falling from your mouth over and over like a prayer.

Afterwards, he held you in his arms, whispering sweet nothings against your skin, how beautiful you were, how much he loved you, that he would never leave you alone. You soaked up everything, feeling a bit less broken and hurt with every word. You fell asleep in his embrace, at peace and knowing you could take on anything in the world as long as you had Chris by your side.

#Chris Cuomo #chris cuomo fanfiction #chris cuomo fic #chris cuomo x reader #Chris Cuomo imagine #cnn fic #cnn #cnn anchors #fanfiction

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prettyboongi · 4 years

Text

Small Hours

Reader x Jeon Jungkook

Word Count: 1,438

Genre: Angst (w/ brief fluff)

Warning: Emotional cheating and some strong language

[A/N: I wanted to post a fic to hold you guys up until I’m finished with the requested ones. This story is actually inspired by a personal experience. While it definitely worked out at the end for my boyfriend and I, it was still one of the hardest things I had to go through. Also I might make a second part to this but we’ll see. Hope you guys enjoy!]

You weren't surprised when you got a text from your boyfriend Jungkook that he was on his way to your place. Even though it was close to 1 a.m., you were used to him showing up this late, especially after working the late shift from his part-time job. He also didn’t have to worry about you being asleep this late since you tend to stay awake into the late hours of the night. What did surprise you was opening the door to find a disheveled and tense version of your typically tidy and cheerful boyfriend.

You gesture for him to come inside and, after shutting the door, you gave him a comforting hug. "Is everything alright, babe? You look terrible"

Despite giving you a soft smile, Jungkook still couldn’t hide the anxiety bubbling inside of him. "I really needed to see you," he opens. "Can we talk?"

While escorting him to your bedroom, a variety of worse case scenarios plagued your mind. Is he in trouble? Did something happen at work? Is he dying?! You tried to mentally stuff down these intrusive thoughts but it was a losing battle for you. Once you two reached your room, you sat at the edge of your neatly made bed, watching Jungkook nervously pace in front of you.

A moment passed before you finally broke the stressful silence. "Can you please tell me what's wrong? You're scaring me," you said with a slight laugh, an attempt to pass off your fears as a joke.

Jungkook walks over to you and sits close to you on the bed. He looks at you deeply into your eyes. His own eyes were glassy and tired, a little bloodshot even. "Things have been pretty stressful lately," he solemnly confesses, "it's getting too much to bear."

You took his hand and lightly caressed his bony knuckles with your thumb. "Go on, honey," you said, encouraging him.

You let Jungkook vent about his troubles to you. About how he feels overworked from his job. About his sleeping troubles. And about the many responsibilities he had to take care of. The more he talked, you hear his voice becoming increasingly shaky. When he finally let himself break down, you pulled him to your chest and stroke his slightly fizzled locks. As always, you felt terrible that he had so many things weighing on his shoulders and wished that you could take a lot of his worries away. But during moments like these, all you could really do is hold him tight and tell him he’s going to be okay.

Once his sniffling dies down, he slowly sits up and looks at you. “Thanks for listening to me,” he says while wiping his tear stained face with his sweater sleeve.

“Of course, Kookiepants” you smile warmly at him, “It’s what I’m here for.” Cupping his face, you slightly lift yourself off your bed to give him a gentle kiss on his forehead. You figured everything was okay until watch his smile gradually fade away.

“I have to tell you something,” his expression changes into a serious one. Knowing how rare he displays such a look, your mind again goes to thinking of the worst scenarios possible.

“What?,” you asked cautiously.

Jungkook takes a moment before continuing. “You know the friend I made online? The one from Germany, Alice?”

“Yeah I know her,” you rolled your eyes derisively. Of course you knew her, she was his Overwatch buddy. When they first began playing together a year ago, Jungkook would go on and on about how kickass of a player she was and back then you didn’t think that much about it. It only started bothering when the two began regularly messaging each other on Instagram. It’s not that you didn’t like Alice; it just kinda annoyed you that some other chick was getting so close to your boyfriend. Jungkook knew how jealous you’d get and assured you that his relationship with the girl was strictly platonic. And of course you trusted Jungkook. In the many years of your relationship, he never gave you a reason otherwise.

“What about Alice?”

Although he hesitated momentarily, he doesn’t take his gaze away from you. “Well me and her have been talking a lot lately and… I think I’m growing strong feelings for her.”

You suddenly stopped stroking his hair and looked down at him. “What do you mean by that, Jungkook?”

He started to tear up again. “What I mean is that, I think I’m falling in love with her.”

“...What?” You feel your body go cold from pure shock. It was as if the world had come to a complete stop and only you and him were in motion. “You’re in love with her?”

“But I still love you! Just somehow I feel the same way for the both of you. It just happened,” his voice breaks. He then holds his head in the hands and starts to cry again. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“And how does she feel about you?,” you asked despite knowing what the answer will be.

He snivels. “She told me she feels the same way.”

At that moment, you feel an intense mix of emotions. Sadness. Anger. Disbelief. Confusion. How could this happen?, you thought. How does a man have such strong feelings with a girl he’s never met in real life and only been talking for a year? The same feelings he has for the woman he’s been with for almost a decade? You actually had a history with Jungkook; you two have gone through so much and more. Compared to you, what did he have with this Alice girl? You tried to add things up in your head but nothing made sense. This situation doesn’t make any fucking sense.

A normal person would tap into their raw emotions and start bawling like crazy or even start screaming. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. Sure you were completely devastated but the shock hasn’t sunk down deep enough for you to cry just yet. You also weren’t much of a screamer.

Repeating your actions from before, you took Jungkook into your arms and gently rocked him to calm him down. He holds you back tightly, as if he was afraid of letting you slip away.

“I don��t wanna be in love with her, Y/N. I only wanna be with you,” he says between sniffles. “You have every right to be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you, Jungkook,” you responded quickly. “I’m just mad at the circumstances. If what you’re saying is true, that you’re in love with this girl, I really wished it hadn’t got to this point between you two.” You stopped talking for a minute as you listened to him whimper into your chest. You then push him back a little, causing him to look up at you. “I am happy that you’re being honest with me. You could’ve hid it from me and do something behind my back. But you didn’t.”

“Of course, Y/N,” he says while wiping his tears away. “I love you. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.” He leans forward and lightly pecks on the lips before resting his forehead on yours.

You felt the tears you’ve been desperately holding in finally spill from your eyes. “I love you too.”

You and Jungkook sat on your bed holding on to each other for a little bit longer. During that time, you told him that he couldn’t talk to Alice anymore. He promised to end the friendship and to block on every social media account he followed her on. When he finally calmed down, you found yourself going into “doting girlfriend mode”. You suggested he should take a relaxing shower while you washed his laundry. And when he came out of the shower, you made sure he had a nice, hot meal waiting for him. The two of you talked and hung out for awhile before finally deciding to turn in. However, you waited until Jungkook was fast asleep before you quietly snuck out of bed, heading towards the bathroom.

After flicking the lights on and closing the door behind you, that was when you finally let yourself fall apart. You slid down against the door and silently sobbed to yourself. You still weren’t sure if these were sad or angry tears, could be a depressing mixture of both. As you wept alone on the bathroom floor, your head leaning on the cold wall next to you, the same questions repeatedly echoed inside your head, “Why? What did I do to deserve this? Why is this happening to me?”

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts reaction #bts reactions #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #bts x reader #reader x jungkook #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jeongguk #bts angst #bangtan seonyeondan

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forestwater87 · 3 years

Note

(first apologies if this is a duplicate; I got a "bad request" notification the first time I tried to send this ask) but anyhow; I saw your tags on my Lucretia post and i am not sure how to reply to tags?? but i want to see your version of that scene! (if you still want to share) I love Lucretia very much and love to see other peoples' takes on her. anyway, I hope you are having a good day!

OH MY GOD YAY!!

I mean, cool, whatever. I guess I could share a little bit of that fic. That’s fine.

(yayayayayayayay eeeeeeeeeee)

Okay, part of me wanted to blast you with the entire chapter, but that’s 25-ish pages so I’m forcing myself to show restraint here and only include the tail end. There’s a little bit of context missing, because it’s the last section of Chapter 10 of a fic that so far has at least 32 chapters, but I think it all makes sense. It’s basically just “here’s what happened in that cycle when everybody else was a statue person” and it was, you know, not a good time. (There’s some implied Magcretia, sorry not sorry.)

Plus it’s really good. I know that sounds arrogant, but I’ve spent the last 4-5 years hating every word I’ve ever written, and I’m going to enjoy this confidence for as long as it chooses to stay.

So anyway, I hope you enjoy!

There are no line breaks on tumblr anymore so this is the part where the actual writing starts:

When the Hunger arrived, it was a relief more than anything.

Lucretia had been in the middle of defending The Starblaster from a group of marauders climbing like ants all over the dented and hastily-repaired sides of the ship, trying to figure out if she could possibly shake them all free without having to resort to the magic she’d deduced made it possible for the court to find her, when the sky turned dark and everything went gray.

And her first thought was, Oh thank Pan. (She wasn’t a religious person at all, but enough time with Merle had made the casual prayers second nature.) This nightmare was almost over. In less than an hour, she’d have her family back.

She was so close to seeing Magnus again.

“Fisher, get back in your tank!” she shouted, abandoning the shield she’d been summoning and sprinting to the helm — she’d spent so much time this year running for her life that she could race from one end of the ship to the other without becoming winded. None of the marauders had made it onto the deck, but she felt the air above her head crackle with a spell that blazed past, and as she reached the controls she heard the now-familiar amplified voice call, “You are under arrest for multiple counts of evading the authority of the co — what the hell’s going on here?”

Oh, great. All her friends were here. Now all she needed was for the boar and crocodile to make an appearance.

As the officer began to interrogate the marauders (his side of the conversation still blaring loud and clear), Lucretia took advantage of the confusion to throw the ship forward. She’d had enough foresight to keep the way in front of The Starblaster clear for just this purpose, and while a few hundred yards of ash-colored grass were flattened, she was able to get the ship into the air.

She pointed it up, away from the Hunger — up into space, into nothingness, into any universe except this one, somewhere she’d stared at and imagined but now was finally going into . . .

If she could get the damaged, shuddering ship up to speed and break through the atmosphere, that was.

If not, everything ended here.

A tentacle of swirling darkness stabbed into the ground inches away from her ship, forcing her to swerve hard and nearly lose her footing. She threw all her weight on the acceleration as more of the Hunger’s tentacles latched onto the planet, the labored roar of the engines nearly drowning out the screams of panic from the people below.

As The Starblaster rocketed over a shining city with strange statues and up into the sky, a whisper made Lucretia look around — before realizing it had come from inside her own head.

We’ve been looking for you.

She frowned, clutching at the helm even tighter. Was this some sort of new thing the Hunger could do, or one last awful trick played by this hostile planet?

Another whisper, louder and lower-pitched: You’ve been evading judgement for some time now.

A massive column of the Hunger collided with the planet directly in front of her. It was so close, she had no choice but to try and blow through it, even though that meant taking the biggest risk she had all year. But The Starblaster’s momentum was impossible to halt, and the mile-wide column was impossible to go around, so she gritted her teeth, hunched over the controls, and slammed on the accelerator.

The second she crossed into the Hunger, everything went silent and black.

Everything, that was, except for the whispers:

Lucretia, you have always let others take action and responsibility while you sit back and watch. You tell yourself this is worthwhile, but you know it is a lie. And yet when it is smartest and safest to proceed with caution, you take the most reckless path, because you refuse to admit you might be wrong. Your past sins are sloth, envy, and pride. How do you plead?

How did she plead? She didn’t plead for much of anything, except to survive long enough to fly them into the next cycle. The Hunger buffeted at the ship, wrapping smaller tentacles around its sleek metal body and trying to keep it from plowing forward; it might kill her — kill them all — but not knowing what else to do, she used Mage Hand to open the nearest window without leaving the helm and cast Fire Shield around the ship. It was weak and flickering compared to the spells of protection Merle could create, but the Hunger fell back with deafening shrieks of pain as flames licked the air around The Starblaster.

The awful whispers weren’t letting up, though, digging cold fingers deep into her mind and sending a chill shudder down through her very soul.

Your present sins are no less grave. You kill without remorse. You have allowed yourself to become vindictive and spiteful. You have not abandoned your past failings, but have added new ones since our initial audit. We see fit to add to your current list of transgressions the crime of wrath. How do you plead?

Suddenly there was a break in the shimmering darkness, a bolt of ash-gray sky widening like a tear in heavy fabric — and then she was through, outside of the Hunger and so far above the doomed planet that she couldn’t see the ground below. She let out a scream of triumph, the noise tearing like sandpaper along her exhausted and dry throat, and angled the ship until it was almost vertical. The Starblaster shot forward as though with one last burst of strength, shuddering as its engines were pushed to the absolute limit . . .

The ship suddenly jolted to a halt, mechanisms whirring like a swarm of angry bees.

Lucretia turned to the still-open window and saw the entire view had been replaced with blackness, oily-iridescent tentacles spilling into the ship as others wrapped around it. She threw all of her weight on the acceleration, but it didn’t move; then, after a single grinding moment, The Starblaster began to fly backward, pulled back toward the core of the Hunger.

She could hear its gnashing teeth.

“NO!” The word exploded out of her, coming from somewhere far below conscious thought. She abandoned the helm just long enough to run to the window, ignoring the tentacles that curled around her ankles as she pointed her wand at the offshoot of the Hunger that had its hold on her, aiming for where the base met the rest of the massive column, and shot off a burst of lightning. There was another hideous wail and the tentacles around the ship shuddered and pulled away, just a slight loosening of their incredible grip.

Her entire body shaking with terror and fury, she pointed her wand at the same spot and cast Finger of Death.

The screaming was like a sonic blast — a thousand million voices filled with rage and pain and fear — knocking her onto her back and sending her skidding across the bridge. She scrambled to her feet, stumbling over her robe and lurching to the helm. The sound of the engines returning to full blast was like the roar of a furious animal loosed from its cage, and the last of the Hunger fell back as the ship threw itself up into space. It felt like the air was shouting with every conceivable emotion.

As the panic subsided and her head cleared, she realized it wasn’t the air screaming; it was those whisperers.

So much rage. So much wrath.

No remorse.

No different than the monster she tries to flee.

They were growing louder with every word, overlapping and running together until she struggled to pick out individual phrases —

She betrays the people she supposedly loves most

She destroys a family — destroys the memory of the family

Robs them of themselves

Who has the right?

No one has the right

The sound was becoming unbearable, deafening. Her ears felt like they were leaking; she lifted her hand to one and her fingers came back covered in blood.

It didn’t make sense — it wasn’t an external sound — it wasn’t an external force, but something ripping her apart from within.

It was the sound of going mad.

At that point she was barely able to understand anything

leaves him to die in agony in a hell she helped create

takes advantage of the innocent who make the mistake of believing in her

such a sweet boy, and all you do is lie to him

do you think you can make these decisions for the world?

the heartbreak you will cause

the betrayal

pride — such unfathomable pride

the deaths you will cause

the lives you will ruin

the blood that stains your hands

coldhearted — cowardly

wrath — envy — sloth

pride

PRIDE

Our judgement is decided.

You have been found wanting.

Something hardened in her chest, calcifying her lungs and making it impossible to breathe. Lucretia doubled over, her hands scrabbling to keep the ship moving, as her flesh turned hard, brittle, the feeling like casting Stone Skin but somehow it’d gotten inside . . .

She couldn’t move her tongue. She couldn’t breathe. Blackness crowded the edge of her vision — not like she was blacking out, but like her eyes just suddenly weren’t there anymore

everything went wobbly, the universe becoming untethered just for a moment

And when it stabilized, she realized she could move again, see again. She took a deep, tremulous breath and turned back from the helm, sliding to the floor in a heap.

It was less than a second, before the I.P.R.E. crew fully materialized, but she didn’t see it happen. As soon as the surreal, smoky outlines of her friends wavered into being, she dropped her head in her hands, a sob she’d been holding back for months finally escaping her throat.

She did it.

Magnus’s hands closed around her upper arms and he gently tugged her into an embrace. She could feel the cool steel of the bridge under her knees, heard the voices of all her friends speaking all at once. She was dimly aware she was talking, mumbling nonsense to herself as she waited for the world to stop spinning.

The last thing she was aware of before slipping into unconsciousness was Magnus’s breath on her forehead and his warm fingers combing through her hair.

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marueonmain · 4 years

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Hate Me ~ ImAllexx (1/2)

(part one) (part two)

Summary: Y/N is troubled, but she chooses not to go to her boyfriend, Alex, for advice, instead she goes to Will.

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: N/A

Word Count: 1.5k

It might have been an unusual sight to see.

Alex in the kitchen, frying bacon for a sandwich at ten in the morning and jogging back to his bedroom every few minutes to check on how a video was rendering.

It might have been unusual if Y/N did not know it was only like that because her boyfriend had not gone to bed the night before.

Neither the delicious smell wafting into the air nor the sound of Alex’s lovely mumbled singing of sunflower could lighten Y/N’s strained expression. She looked like she would be sick if given a sink and the opportunity. Uncurling her legs, Y/N stood from her place on the sofa and walked toward the door; the metal of the handle felt abnormally cool against the burning skin of her hand.

“I’m going out for a bit, be back later!”

“Where are you going?” Alex asked over the sound of sizzling and the fan.

Y/N stopped. Fingers anxiously tapped against the wood of where she held the door open. “I need to pick up more bin bags.”

“Ok, love you.”

“Uh-hmm.” She nodded and scampered out the door into the hall. Practically vibrating with nerves, Y/N opted to take the stairs down as she left the building.

She jogged the last little bit to her car. Crashing into the driver's seat, she pulled out her phone and read over her most recent text conversation:

Y/N: you free?

Will: depends what for

Y/N: quick facetime like ten minutes tops

Y/N: I promise!!

Will: *thumbs up emoji*

Y/N sat through two rings before Will picked up. He had taken the call from his computer. His chair was pulled up enough to his desk that he seemed oddly close to the camera. He wore a black t-shirt with large armholes and writing around the collar. Bags under his eyes almost dark enough to match his quiff.

“You alright?” the words were bogged down with tired.

“Hi, Will.” Y/N exhaled a short dramatic breath. “I want to talk to you about something because I trust you to be honest with me and to not tell anyone.”

Will’s eyes widened under raised eyebrows before he chuckled and commented in a sarcastic tone familiar to his voice, “What a way to start a conversation.”

“I rehearsed it in the mirror.”

“Sounds like it.” He leaned forward. “Where are you?”

“In my car, I couldn’t risk Alex hearing.”

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. I just—” the last word turned into a mix between a squeak and a mewl. Y/N moved to set her phone up on her dash, freeing her hands to wipe at her wet cheeks, and started again. “Sorry, I don’t mean to cry.”

“What’s going on?” His eyebrows came together.

“Alex and I have been going together for a while now, and you’re one of his best mates. There’s something I need to tell him, but I really don’t want to. He’s going to be mad…I think he’s going to be mad.”

“You’re waffling.”

Y/N brought her hands together to fiddle with her fingers. “Sorry.”

“Alex doesn’t get mad a lot – not actually – outside of gags and stuff.”

Y/N was doing her best to listen to her friend. It was what she called him to do: listen. It was just so difficult to get herself out from under the hydraulic press that was her own fears. “But—”

“He loves you, whatever it is, that’s not going to change.”

“I’m ruining his life,” each syllable she spoke was more incomprehensible than the last as she forced them through the tears. “He’s going to hate me.”

Will leaned back in his chair and muttered, “Jesus.”

From a chair pulled up beside him but far enough to be out of sight of the camera, Alex sat watching the unfolding situation. Seeing Y/N in distress and knowing he could not be there for her felt like a pinprick to his balloon heart.

When Will texted him a screenshot of the conversation – between him and Y/N – Alex was confused. Now – after sprinting up the stairs to Will’s flat, the second Y/N left so that he could sit in on this new conversation – Alex was even more confused. He whispered to Will, “Ask her what she means.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Will’s voice remained quiet, and he ducked his head a second so that Y/N would not see his lips moving. He brushed his hand across his nose before looking back to his monitor. “What do you mean? What did you do?”

“It just happened; I didn’t mean it to.”

Alex’s nose flared, and his hands which had been resting on his knees clenched, balling up the fabric of his shorts. He muttered a quiet, “No. Not you, Y/N.”

Will did his best to manage the two volatile people and their wildly different emotions. He lifted his one hand and pumped it in a repeated calm down gesture to which Alex closed his eyes.

On the other front, Will put on a stern voice that somehow also gushed with compassion and care. ”If there’s someone else, you can’t keep that to yourself; it’ll end up eating you from the inside-out. And it’s not fair to Alex.”

Y/N hiccuped. “No, no, it’s not that.”

“It’s not?”

“Of course not, Will,” she sounded annoyed.

Alex lifted his head and opened his eyes. As his features relaxed, it was not into an expression of relief so much as it was into one of confusion.

Y/N continued, “I love Alex, a disgusting amount, really. No, it’s...I’m pregnant.”

Will turned in his chair, facing Alex almost head-on. Their wide eyes met, and there was nothing but shock in the younger’s paling face.

Alex stood up. Shoving his fists through his hair and holding them there, he began to pace, his steps small and large, quick and slow with no pattern.

“That’s,” Will stuttered out, “t-that’s great.”

“No, it’s not. Alex didn’t sign up for this.”

“It’s not a business contract, I assume he knew what you both were doing.”

“We’re busy all the time; he’s got all these projects; I was working on some new merch designs and—and there’s just no time. Alex deserves to do everything he’s got planned. He deserves a life. He’s young, he wouldn't want this. Not now. He couldn’t.”

“You’re talking like he’s a teenager or something. Alex is a grown man.”

Y/N sighed exasperatedly. “Will. I—”

“No.” He snapped hard. Enough that it stopped both Y/N and Alex in their tracks. “It’s time to listen. You won’t know what he wants until you ask him—until you tell him. You have to.”

Wiping the last of the wet from her cheeks off on the sleeve of her jacket, Y/N found she could not look at her phone; she looked to the passenger seat, outside the windscreen, anywhere but where she knew her friend was waiting.

Eventually, Y/N spoke up in a meek voice, scared to even admit she was the one who thought to speak the words, “You and I both know there’s a version of this where Alex doesn’t have to find out.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. I could ‘’go to my parents’’ for the long weekend and be back without…without the problem.”

Flickering his focus up over the monitor, Will again met eyes with Alex. An all-around heaviness dragged down the younger’s features. His eyes lost some of their shine as it seemed his consciousness drew further from his physical world and more into himself.

Will cleared his throat. “Could you really do that? To Alex’s kid?”

“Yes.” Y/N sounded the surest she had the entire conversation. “I’m not looking for a morality check. Not from you. I just need to know, would you support me? If that’s what I decided?”

“I don’t think you should decide now.”

Alex left; he stormed from the room, slamming the door to Will’s bedroom. For having shorter legs, he could really run.

“What was that?” asked Y/N.

“Gee just got home. Look, I got to go, but let me finish up here. I really think Alex will surprise you. He’s a smart lad, and he loves you. You know?”

“Not this much.”

“Yes, he does. Now don’t wait any longer. Go tell him.”

“I’ll think about it.” She smiled genuinely, “Thank you.”

“Bye, be safe.”

#imallexx #imallexx imagine #imallexx x reader #alex elmslie #alex elmslie imagine #alex elmslie x reader #willne

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jonjordanforrealz · 3 years

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12 Years Is a Long Time

September 29th is my son Arron’s 11th birthday – a cause for celebrating for sure, and a time for this parent, as most parents do, to ponder aloud, “How in the hell did that go so fast?” For me, sentimental sap that I am, birthdays are always a time for reflection too.

In doing so this morning, I was, of course, reminded that September 29th is also the anniversary of my brother Michael’s passing. A year to the day before Arron came into this world, Mikey left it. 12 years ago today. That’s gone a different kind of so fast itself.

I’ve talked about my brother’s death many times over the years and it never bothers me to do so. Most of the time, it makes me happy just to talk about him at all. To be remembered is to be loved and he certainly is in both instances. But I don’t think I’ve ever really shared much publicly about his last day.

And I need to let it go.

Who knows? Maybe something like this can help somebody.

For 12 years, I’ve carried the weight of that day and never really faced it or dealt with it. And I’m tired. It’s heavy and I’m tired. And to fulfill my final promise to Mikey, actually, I need to get rid of it, once and for all.

Following a lifetime of major medical issues and severe mental and physical handicaps, and doing all he could over the course of his 25 years to beat the odds and somehow conquer and survive one and all, Michael would meet his match in the form of an internal bleeding issue that just couldn’t be solved.

A kid like Mikey, who couldn’t really communicate outside of very basic emotions, had no way of conveying to doctors what anything felt like, where it hurt, how long something had been bothering him, and so on and so forth. So oftentimes, things got worse, sometimes as bad as they possibly could get, before anyone could even get anywhere close to figuring out what the hell was going on. And in his final chapter, this reality first led to him being transported to be treated by specialists in Tampa, and then ultimately, to our family’s greatest test. That we were so conveniently able to face that final decision together thanks to his relocation to my neck of the woods was a stroke of luck that I don’t think anyone appreciated until years later.

Michael’s bleeding issue just wasn’t going away no matter what the doctors tried. Not to cheapen the matter, but I think someone likened it to plugging a hole in a hose with your finger, only to have another open shortly thereafter. At some point, you run out of fingers. And so, we were faced with two choices: An exploratory and very invasive surgery that guaranteed nothing or a nonsurgical Hail Mary that was every bit the final hope. My parents encouraged me to speak freely and honestly in that days-long conversation and as I recall, my opinion never wavered, though of course, I respected and understood their agonizing back-and-forth.

To me, this kid had already been through so much, literally since Day 1. Countless major surgeries and painful procedures that would absolutely hammer (and maybe finish) most “regular” people were the worst of the lot. Other concessions over time – simple things like eating and drinking normally – also took a toll, I’m sure, as every human needs simple joys.

Throughout his last ordeal, there had already been several procedures, and in my eyes, he didn’t need more of that. With the proposed surgery highly likely to kill him anyway, I didn’t see the justification to put him through that sort of torture again. I didn’t want that to be his way to go out. As his closest advocate, because “brothers” means something more that those who don’t have can know, I knew he didn’t want that to be his way to go out either.

Instead, I argued, that through the non-invasive course of treatment, while the odds of that working were stacked heavily against him, this put the ball in his court. This made it so that he could fight, if he wanted to. For a kid who rarely had the chance to call his shot at any time in his life, this was that. “Scrap if you want to, kid,” I thought. “If anyone can beat the odds one more time, it’s you.” And if not, I thought he had that right too. And I wanted to fight for that. This time, I wanted to fight for his right to fight. Or not.

And so, with my parents on board, we gave him his shot, and at first, true to form, the kid was responding positively. Amazed yet unsurprised, we carried on with some hope for the first time in seemingly forever … and then everything just tanked. Quickly.

I’d prepared for this my whole life. And I had thought I had been stepping into this moment already time and time before. But I wasn’t nervous. I felt a sense of urgency, after getting the call, because I wanted to be with him but I wasn’t nervous or scared. Something that always comforted me was a belief that if anyone ever deserved a peaceful end, it would be Mikey. Once we were faced with the grave news, the doctor assured that as they stopped doing whatever they had been doing to treat him, and focused on making him comfortable, that he would indeed get that peaceful transition. And I know in the medical world that nothing is ever guaranteed but I really believed it. I believed in that. It’s all I wanted, then, knowing that there was no winning this last fight.

But it didn’t go down like that. His last day wasn’t, at first, peaceful at all. It was prolonged. And there were gasps and groans. At one point, a seizure. And I was mad. I was so mad.

At the same time, I knew what it was, really. This kid’s will to fight just doesn’t go away. It’s funny because from the very beginning, one of the things he was diagnosed with was some syndrome called Failure to Thrive. Fuck that.

When the worst moments hit, and I watched my brother and my family suffering, I didn’t feel mad anymore. I just felt like I had to do something.

There’s a picture that I have of my brother and I in bed. I was maybe 10 and he, six. We shared a room at that time and when my mom or dad would come in to get us up, if I was being a bum and still laying there and we had somewhere to be, they’d plop Mikey right in my bed next to me. That always got me up. Nothing like an eye poke or swift kick from the kid who “couldn’t control his movements” to start your day – accompanied, of course, by his trademark giggle.

That little shit … It’s still my favorite picture in the world.

In those final moments, I just crawled as far into his hospital bed as I could to lay next to him, just like we did on those mornings as kids, and I whispered to him, “It’s okay. You don’t have to fight anymore. We’re going to be okay.”

You see, I’d often wondered, when I was very young, why he pulled through so many things that most people wouldn’t. After all, I’d always noticed people bitching and moaning about the stupidest things (oh, contemporary America!), wandering around aimlessly in perpetual woe-is-me mode. If anyone should have ever just said, “Screw this!” and checked out, Michael should have. But he had us. And we, him. He pretty much defined us, really, for better or worse. I felt like there was at least a little something in him that told him he needed to stick around for us. And I just wanted him to know that we would be okay if he couldn’t anymore.

Within minutes, things calmed down. His breathing slowed. The stupid machines making noise start doing so more sporadically. And then, before we knew it, it was over. That was it. The end.

I remember lots of hugs and tears and one of many goodbyes to come. And then we said thank you to some staff members – really a symbolic thank you, from me at least, to so many over the years. To people in the medical field, I look at you as I do teachers, and that is in the highest regard, having intimately known both worlds, whether I wanted to or not.

I remember going outside and nobody saying very much.

I remember sitting down at a table.

And then I remember saying, “Well, what do we do now?” I don’t think I ever quite figured out what to do. A purpose I’d always had was now gone.

Of course, in the coming days and weeks, we had plenty to do – plenty of the mind-numbing, gut-wrenching things you have to do to prepare for a loved one’s final arrangements and all that. I took on a lot more of the sort than I ever had at that time because I felt like my parents shouldn’t have to, so I was distracted by productivity. But soon after that, I don’t remember anything. Don’t remember his funeral. Don’t remember leaving my parents and coming back home. Don’t remember going back to work. Sports, friends, events … nothing.

Truly, I think I completely lost a year. I don’t remember a lot at all about the time in between Mikey’s death and Arron’s birth. And then the latter happened and it was like the pause button I’d pushed on life had been pushed again, whether I was ready or not.

And while I was obviously happy to be a dad for the second time, I was also still hurting, which I must have forgotten about too in that year prior. And again, I was mad. I was so mad.

In the years since, that anger lingered, because if you don’t hit something head-on, it doesn’t just go away. Anger leads to hurt, fear, panic, anxiety, a defensive existence, and isolation. I’ve experienced it all and I wouldn’t wish any of it on my worst enemy. I’ve distanced myself, I’ve been checked out and I’ve lashed out, retreated within and pushed people away. It has caused me problems in every element of my life at one time (or more) or another.

None of it is any excuse and it’s a lot for which to apologize over a long period of time but if my suffering has ever caused any sort of suffering for anyone reading this, I am sorry.

(Note: I’m still going to enjoy my space and my distance more than most people but, overall, I can be better!)

I feel like some of this might be a surprise to people because I don’t show it, hardly ever. I’ve gotten good at projecting this version of myself at any time, regardless of what’s really going on. I even manage to have and to be a good time, probably a bit too often influenced by some additives I’ve grown fond of over the years. But there are times when all of that is just masking a wreck. And it has to stop.

I don’t know why I’m shedding this now other than that I need to – because it can’t go on forever. I haven’t come close to being the best version of myself and I have people around me who deserve nothing less than that. What better time than now if I’m finally recognizing that, at times, I haven’t been good? And at my worst, I haven’t even been okay.

And the bottom line is that I promised my little brother, as he left us 12 years ago, that I would be.

I’ll never let go of him. He’s on my arm and in my heart and I hear his voice – especially that laugh! – every single day.

But I’m letting go of that day.

12 years is a long time.

It’s been heavy.

And I’m tired.

And I have to be okay.

#bros #family #michaeljordan

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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Darkwing Double Feature: The Quiverwing Quack and Paint Misbehavin (Paint Misbehavin Comissoned by WeirdKev27)

Greetings darkwings of the night! It’s time to return to our daring duck of mystery for a third double feature! This one’s been a longtime coming.. as in since around black friday when I did a comissions sale. As usual Kev was my only customer and he bought both Splatter Phoenix episodes... and I shamefully admit this one has sat in my queue for a while as I wanted to finish the justice ducks retrospective first, as I also wanted to cover Quiverwing Quack’s first appearance, on my own time, and I wanted to save doing any Negaduck till I got done with Justice Ducks. And that’s where errors were made, as I PAUSED said retrospective forgetting I both had this review sitting in my queue, and that I really didnt have that much left to go on it. SO yeah this took WAY longer than I usually do for a commission, and I apologize for that and i’m happy to correct it, with this, along with the freebie I gave him at the time, coming out tommorow i’ll finally be caught up and promise this won’t happen again. So with my needed apologizes out of the way, let’s talk about why this is a double feature. Simple: Paint Misbehavin is Quiverwing Quack, Gosalyn’s superhero alter ego’s, only other appearance on the show. It would appear in the comics.. in a fashion.. but we’ll get to that. So it dind’t feel quite right covering one without the other, especially since this version of gos is a fan faviorite of many. So does our archer live up to the hype? Let’s get dangerous under the cut and find out.

The Quiverwing Quack:

This.. may be the best Darkwing i’ve seen so far. There is some competition of course, but this one is easily the frontrunner. It’s hilarious, has a really great and intresting plot, few faults, and is just.. about as good as this show can get. I could end that here but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t, so let’s get into why.

The episode starts with a fairly typical day for Darkwing: Fighting Negaduck, hilariously as always, and mocking his arch enemy for only being Public Enemy #2 behind Dr. Slug, an oft mentioned but never seen in an actual episode villian that’s apparently one of DW’s deadliest foes. So already we have a great motive for Negaduck, who usually just has the motive of “destroy darkwing’ or do evil, though to the show’s credit, just looking at the summaries for his other eps alone, they NEVER ran out of ideas for the guy or forgot he was as clever as he was ax crazy.

But just as he’s about to beat darkwing, Gosalyn arrives with an archery set Launchpad purchased for her and easily holds him down. And rather than be greatful Drake is mad at her and feels the arrows are too dangerous which.. fair those look to be real arrows but not the time or place. Gosalyn however is angry her dad stopped her and is chafing both under his overprotectivness and feeling this is about ego, creates her own crime fighting alter ego Quiverwing Quack, dragging Honker along as her sidekick Arrow Boy. He dosen’t WANT to get into hero work, but he’s afraid she’ll pulverize him if he dosen’t. HA HA.. GET IT.. BECAUSE SHE’S A GIRL AND IT’S NOT LIKE GIRLS CAN ABUSE BOYS HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAA

Yeah as you can tell that bit hasn’t aged well and is the one down note in an otherwise great episode. And I do mean great. Because this essential conflict works perfectly and is expertly built on what we’ve already seen of the characters.

For starters Gosalyn forming her own hero identity feels like a natural evolution of her character. It genuinely feels that, given her love for adventure and of her dad being a superhero, that she’d take the next step in wanting to follow in her footsteps and put on her own costume eventually. Her making her OWN rather than something derivitative of darkwing also perfectly fits both her anger at her dad’s overprotectivness and her own individual nature. The costume itself is.. okay pretty simplistic, with an early green arrow style hat and some gloves and boots.. but while I didn’t like it at first It’s grown on me a bit, as I realized it feels like the kind of a costume a kid would throw together and given Gosalyn dosne’t have her dad’s backing, it makes sense the costume would be slapped together. Grante dit dosen’t explain her trick arrows, but given we’ve seen gosalyn is pretty talented and that she can easily acess Darkwing’s lair, it’s not a huge stretch to say she went into her dad’s lair while he was gone, took some suplies and made the arrows herself.

And i’ll freely admit i’m a sucker for a good archer hero as Hawkeye is easily one of my faviroite superheroes. Which granted is a sentence I know will probably baffle anyone who hasn’t picked up a comic with clint, or has but it was written by brianmicheal bendis, as in the movies up to Endgame you could easily replace him with a block of wood with a purple h painted on it and no one would notice the difference. And other archer heroes like Arowette, Speedy, Kate Bishop, Arsenal and Green Arrow are also on the whole pretty fucking awesome, as is the Young Justice Cartoon version of Artemis and the JLU version of Green Arrow. So this was kind of a slam dunk for me and the fact Gos’ costume comes off as a combination of Hawkeye and Green Arrow, having Ollie’s hat but Clint’s purple color scheme and gloves with no sleeves aesthetic, just makes me all the more on board for this.

What truly makes the episode though is Darkwing, whose internal conflict is masterful to watch. While his being overproective isn’t anything new to the show, this episode takes it in a more dramatic directon: While there’s still a few jokes the episode gives some very painful reasons why he’s like this: He dosen’t want to loose his baby girl, both figuratively in her growing up and becoming more self sufficent.. and literally in her dying. It’s a terror any parent faces and it makes him sympathetic: While he IS overreacting at times and would be better off training her and helping nurture her while still keeping her safe, so when she DOES run off to do her own thing she’ll be ready, you can’t blame him for not wanting that, for wanting her to just stay home, stay safe and stay ALIVE. The comics, which i’ve read some of and will cover here at some point, make this hit HARDER as during the second arc, where we meet a bunch of Darkwing Ducks from other dimenisons.. and one of them is Quiverwing Duck. You can probably guess just by the name what happened to his Gosalyn after years and years of working together.

So the risk .. is very real. Loosing her is VERY possible. Being a kid to teen superhero is a VERY dangerous line of work as with less experince and being a possible target if you have any mentors, and sometimes you genuinely DON’T make it. Cypher, Jason Todd Robin, Ultimate Peter Parker, Synch, Danny Chase, Kid Devil, Skin, Wallflower, Icarus, Genisis.. the list goes on, and on, and while MOST of them came back even then the ones that did didnt exactly lack in scars: Jason was never the same after the joker’s beating and Doug, Cypher, had severe trauma he never adressed. The danger Darkwing fears is VERY real.. but is a danger she faces ANYWAY by rushing in and acompanying him. The tragedy is traning her would at least give her a fighting chance as it’s clear from the above that Quiverwing Duck’s Gos died not because she wasn’t ready or because her dad din’t train her.. but because , like MOST of the heroes above.. she died a hero saving the world. And the show recognizes this even if it doen’t mention the death because the show has to have limits and it was the early 90′s, wiht Darkwing’s fears also being that she’s growing up. He knows sh’es capable of this.. he’s just tearful she’s growing up.. and that she could be gone. It puts his overprotectiveness from other episodes in a much more understandable light, and makes it clear that while it comes from a good place it’s not really healthy: As the episode shows, Gosalyn thinks ALL he sees of her is a baby to be coddled and protected and not as her own person, and while he’s right to protect her.. he’s gone so far in it and in dismisisng her again, and again AND AGAIN, that he’s given the poor girl a complex. Leaping into danger alone isn’t the answer.. but when we get to the climax of the episode you can see why it’s gotten this bad. It’s suprisingly layred for what’s normally a pretty simple character conlficts. Here there’s no easy answer and even while by the end Darkwing’s accepted she’ll be a hero someday and both earnestly apologize, ther’es no real resolution. And sometimes.. that’s okay. It’s something they could’ve revisited had the series gone on and we did get at least one sequel episode at least and the comics do explore the issue of gosalyn being a kid hero and drake’s overprotectiness, with his issues there being why he retired and ended up badly straining his relationhip with gosalyn and ending , for a while, his friendship with launchpad and relationsihp with morgan as well as his costumed career. But obviously as I said we’ll get to that another day. But as an episode.. this one is truly excellent and one of the best the series put out, with plenty of humor but the more complicated dynamics at play BUILT on what we’ve seen before, including Gos rightfuly supsecting dakwing’s against her due to his own ego at points, are what elevate it to the series best. So how’d they follow it up?

Paint Misbehavin:

This one’s in an awkard middle place, where it’s FAR better than the previous splatter Phoenix Episode but not as good as “The Quiverwing Quack”. Still it’s a pretty fun episode all together. So the main plot is that Darkwing and Gosalyn are at cross purposes because Darkwing is overshadowed by Gosalyn, in this case at the local comic con where Gosalyn, returning to her Quiverwing Quack guise, is the big new thing while Darkwing’s practically ignored.

Yeah no way around it this is a rehash of “Whiffle While You Work”, same basic conflict, just with suprheroing instead of a video game. So naturally at first it annoyed me especially since they had a debate over who was better, Darkwing’s old traditional hero or Gosalyn’s new very 90′s hero. This.. goes about nowhere and is just cringe inducing for me as a comics fan, whose not against 90′s characters but acknolsges the vast majority got better LATER under new writers, with the exception of some such as superboy, steel, kyle rayner and impulse, who were fresh out of the package. Thankfully.. the episode pushes past this and it ends up being a better version of Whiffle While You Work, as Drake isn’t as overbearingly obnoxious as he was there: Here Gosalyn is just as egotsitical, at one point trying to lead him away from a crime scene, and it’s only when they finally work as a team that they become unstoppable. It does say something though that Darkwing has genuinely grown as his objection is pure ego instead of overprotectivness like last time and he willingly lets her tag along even if he’s trying to show her up. It’s not the BEST conflict, and it ends with egos clashing, but while this part of the episode is recycled.. at least it’s recycling an episode that genuinely wasted the idea and using it better. Darkwing being jealous here is FAR more understandable as he’s been a hero far longer and while his ego is way too big for his head, it’s understandble to be a big pissy, and agian he dosen’t go nearly as far in how he treats gosalyn. He just wants to show up his own daughter and he’s shown as fully wrong for this. Not great but far better than before. What IS great and what makes this episode fun, is Splatter Phoenix, whose even better than last time. I attribute this to the change in voice actors. While Dani Staahl was excellent.. her replacment is far better and far more notable. It’s SCTV’s andrea martin... who i’m realizing most of you have probably never heard of.

Or know what SCTV is. It was before both our times trust me: it was an early 80′s sketch comedy show that had a unique premise as the sketches were all programs for a fictional tv station, and there’d often be wraparounds about what was going on at the station that oftne led to sketches or impacted them: From dealing with sponser issues brought on by the Moral Majority, aliens, the russians hyjacking their signal, and forging checks from Fred Willard’s account, yes that was a plot and yes he was indeed a guest star, there was no end to the number of shenanigans in and out of program. IT was really good stuff with an all star cast: John Candy, Rick Moranis, Dave Thomas, Cathrine O’Hara, Eugene Levy, Joe Flarhety, Martin Short, and of course Martin. Even Harold Ramis was on the show for it’s first season. It was just a damn good time and if you can find the dvd’s or clips on youtube I recommend it. My point is Martin is vastly underated and really deserves better than she’s gotten, and this eps proves it as her energy really adds to Splatter’s astetic and really fits the show like a glove and it’s a shame the show ended shortly after this episode, as it would’ve been nice to see her return in the role. But for a one shot she’s UTTERLY awesome, and Splatter gets to do far more this time as her brush has now expanded to be able to create, so we get helicopter cats, pumpkin dogs, a pink gorilla with a toaster for a head and when told superheroes always win she creates her own, absract man, with a hand for a head and a weird body and I just want to see more of him. He even skips off with Launchpad’s faivorie hero, bascally mr rodgers as a weasel, after launchpad draws the guy in. I want to see this gay couple fight crime with love and existetaalism dammit!

But yeah she’s just fun, as is her vandalism of various art works including making the dogs playing poker into skeletons.. which I now want a picture of for my room because that is nice. SHe also brings back the art shitfts from before in little ways, transforming darkwing into abstract art and to blocky art at diffrent points with her brush. And that’s what puts this episode over the other: The creativity is still there but without the whole “Honker being gaslighted” plot that I still hate to this very second, it’s allowed to be fun and fancy free and with Splatter out in the open she’s allowed to get a LOT more ambitious and thus the writers and martin get to have a LOT more fun with the gimmick.

So while I do feel the episode’s a bit crowded, as they try to cram in both splatter phoenix and this super feud between family into the same space and both episodes would’ve been better served seperatley, i’ts so fun with clever use of the magic brush by our heroes and what not I can’t help but love it. I don’t love the climax though as splatter gets turpentine spilled on her by gosalyny and .. melts for some reason. Because she’s made of paint now even though that was never a thing before? Not to mention the fact our heroes just killed a person...

So yeah the ending’s a bit wonky but it’s a fun episode with the return of a great villian, a decent of played out main conflict and some great gags and fights in it. All in all i’m glad I got comissioned for this one and finally tackled it. Good stuff. So that does it for this. We’ll be back to darkwing next week just in time for valentine’s day.. and back with Negaduck too. Until then it’s been a pleasure.

#darkwing duck #drake mallard #gosalyn mallard #launchpad mcquack #negaduck #jim starling #splatter phoenix #paint misbehavin #quiverwing quack #honker muddlefoot #reviews #disney #disney plus

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thirtysomethingloser92 · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1.

Masterlist/ Warnings.

Prologue.

Being told that you were the soulmate to one of the most dangerous beings in the universe wasn't really what you expected it to be.

It was pain and heartbreak. It was pain knowing that they could be so much more. You've seen it in their eyes, you've felt it in the way they tenderly caressed your face, but it was heartbreak in the way they chose not to change.

It started what seemed like a whole different lifetime ago. Back when it was just you, The brown haired man you knew as The Doctor and Martha Jones. There was a constant ache in your head and an itch that ran through your body that you just couldn't scratch. It had been there for just over a year and it had medical experts baffled.

It wasn't until Harold Saxon, The Valiant, and the appropriately named 'Year that Never Was', did you find out what was really going on. You saw the madness in his eyes when they first laid eyes on you, the way his face lit up with glee as if he had spent his whole life waiting for you.

You were told that a Soulmate bond was such a strange concept, a rare concept, and for two completely different species to be bonded was almost unheard of. The Doctor looked at you like you were a science experiment.

The Master didn't hurt you.

Not physically anyway.

His touches towards you were tender, as if he was going to break you. Around him, you felt like your whole being was being broken down to be remade in such a blissful way. His was assertive with you, but not in a way which you feared. He was kind to you in a way he never was towards anyone else.

It wasn't in the way he touched you, never sexually. Maybe it was the subtle things, the way he always smiled at you, made sure to assert his dominance around others that you were his and no one else’s.

Not Ever.

You despised him, you despised his actions.

He made you watch as he beat Lucy- the woman he called his wife-, he made you watch as he tortured Jack- leaving him in shackles only to die over and over again-, and Martha's parents. He made you stand at the window and watch as he decimated whole countries.

"This world will be your empire," He whispered in your ear, his hands on your bare shoulders, "I promise you that,".

Afterwards, as he lay dying in The Doctor's arms, you couldn't help the tear that fell down your cheek. It felt as if there was a hole slowly growing in your chest. You decided later that you weren't sad The Master had passed, you were sad for The Doctor. You were sad for what little of home he was losing.

As the years went on, you had met The Master another 4 times.

"Get out of the way" The Master pushed you aside, you could see the anger in his eyes as he stepped towards the Time Lord President. His eyes met yours for a moment, "I'm doing this for you only," He stated simply before turning his eyes forward, a bolt of lightening hurling from the gauntlet on his hand, "YOU DID THIS TO ME! ALL OF MY LIFE! YOU MADE ME! ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!" *()*

"How long do I have?"

You looked over at the previous incarnation of The Master, his hand holding his side, blood slowly trickling through his fingers. His eyes met yours for a moment, glaring as a small smirk touched your lips. "Oh, I was precise. You'll be able to make it back to your TARDIS, maybe even get a cuppa. Although, you might leak a little," Missy explained, putting him into the elevator in the middle of the forest and making her way back to you.

"And then, regenerate... into you" The Master snarled, disdain lacing his voice.

You watched the scene in front of you, blood falling from a laceration on your cheek, your shoes scuffed and dirty; you were tired, so beyond tired, but you knew that Missy needed you. She went behind her own previous regeneration's version to help you. She went against everything she knew to prove that she did love you. "Oh... because he's right. Because it's time to stand with him. It's time to stand with her," Missy nodded her head towards you, "She's our soulmate and she's everything good in this universe. We love her. It's where we've always been going, and it's happening, now, today. It's time to stand with the Doctor," Missy laced her fingers through your own and pulled you towards back towards the treeline, towards the battle field and the Cybermen, her eyes never glancing away form the exit in front of you both, but you could see the smile on her painted lips.

"No. Never. MISSY! I will never stand with the Doctor!" You could hear The Master shout from behind you. You spun around just in time to watch The Master shoot Missy with his sonic screwdriver, a sense of glee crossed his face as your shouted out her name and ran towards her, tears falling down your face as you fell to your knees beside her.

"Don't bother trying to regenerate. You got the full blast. You see, Missy, this is where we've always been going. This is our perfect ending. We shoot ourselves in the back," The Master stated simply, laughter echoing throughout the area.

Missy let out a long laugh as she looked at your tear stained face, you gripped her hand, trying to reassure her that it was okay, that you were there and you weren't leaving her.

All around you, you could hear the mixed sounds of both their laughter, male and female, while you softly pleaded for her to try and regenerate. For her to come back to you.

Until the final breath left her lips.

That was what lead you up to now, standing in the middle of an empty plane looking at the dark-skinned man. A large grin crossing his face as he stared at you. It was almost a manic type glee on his face, the same type of look he had on his face when he first saw you all those years ago.

How did you not notice this earlier? All the signs were there. The itchiness, O's reluctance to touch you but at the same time, needing to be as close as possible to you, the headaches, the comfort you found in his presence.

But it had been such a long time since you had been in The Master's presence that you almost forgot what being in it felt like. You had finished mourning the woman who had died and you thought that it would be the end of it.

But clearly it wasn't.

Not now, not when you were standing face to face with the villainous Time Lord.

"And finally the human. My soulmate. I've waited a long time to finally meet you," He stepped closer to you, making you take a step back, "I've waited eons to meet you. And now I finally have you," His eyes narrowed slightly, "But this isn't your first time meeting me, is it?"

"I've met you plenty of times before," You commented, "Shame about the circumstances," You looked behind you at The Doctor who was still looking at The Master in shock. "But there was an O at MI6. C was talking about him," Ryan stated simply, moving out from the aisle of seats, stepping closer to Yaz.

The Master gave a small chuckle, "Yeah. A man very close to my heart.," He paused for a moment and reached into his breast pocket, "Well, in my pocket, actually. Do you want to see him? It's always good to keep a backup of one's work. Tissue compression, it's a classic. Oh,"

He smiled as he showed the little tiny humanoid figure in the matchbox. You opened your mouth in shock, stepping forward. You felt The Doctor's hand on your shoulder, keeping you close to her.

"Ambushed him on his way to work for his first day. Shrunk him, took his identity and set myself up in MI6. Surprisingly good staff canteen," The Master turned to you as he threw the matchbox to the side, "I have had a lot of fun," He smiled, bouncing slightly and clapping his hands together like a child.

You shook your head, taking a slight step back, "You absolute sick son of a b-" You were cut off by The Doctor's voice. "I need to warn Barton!" She yelled before turning to you, "Stay here and keep an eye on him," She pointed over to The Master before turning on her heel and moving back towards the cockpit, "What? He's not here," She yelled, quickly moving back towards you.

Graham, Ryan and Yaz rushed towards The Doctor, pushing past you and pushing The Master into a seat. You stood beside him, momentarily blocking him in. Your headache was getting worse, making you press the heels of your palms into your eyes and rub them.

A small chuckle came from beside you, "Headaches?" You looked over at the offending voice, "Oh, I've had headaches for months now. You know, you could solve all our problems if you would just grab my hand. The bond between us will be sealed and it wont hurt anymore" The Master raised his hand, waving his fingers at you.

"Over my dead body," You said simply, moving towards the others.

You watched nervously as The Doctor tried, and ultimately failed, to defuse the bomb sitting in the cockpit. You turned behind you to see The Master standing there, smirking at what he thought was his victory.

"Where's Barton?" Yaz asked him, moving to stand next to you.

"Called away before takeoff. By me! Stick with me, Yaz, cos I control... everything. Even these guys" The Master whistled and clicked his fingers turning around and grinning at the sight before him.

Molding form the aircraft around you, two light figures came to stand in front of you. Your chest clenched painfully before turning back to The Master, "This plane crashes, we all die. Including me," You stated as if that would make him stop.

The Master laughed, "Yes!" He narrowed his eyes for a moment, "Wait, no. I already have plans for you," He forcefully grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him, making you shout in pain. You could see the wincing on his own face as the bond snapped into place.

It was like fire and ice rushed through your veins and burned your head. It was like drowning and dying over and over again. The pain made you fall to your knees and clutch your head, The Master just looked down at you, watching with a smirk as the bond began to work.

You could feel pain. The same pain you felt from the Valiant when your bond was first established, but it was so much more painful, so much more embedded. You felt like you were suffocating. Time seemed to slow down as you were pulled up to your feet by The Master, his hand keeping a painful grip on your upper arm. You tried to struggle against him but you felt weak, like it was taking all your energy just to keep yourself from succumbing to the pain in your mind. "Got you, finally," You heard whispered beside you as you were pulled from the crashing aircraft.

#Dhawan!Master #Dhawan!Master x Reader #Doctor Who #Spyfall #Thirteenth Doctor #sacha dhawan #Master x Reader

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hogwarts-riddle · 4 years

Text

Eternalism: Chapter II

The trip back to Gryffindor Tower was just as rushed as the trip from. Hermione couldn’t help but glance back every now and then, halfway convinced that death eaters were going to appear out of nowhere. Deep down, she knew that she was most likely being paranoid as there had yet to be any real signs that the school was under attack. The warning bell would have surely gone off if it was.

While Professor Slughorn hurried her off to the Hospital Wing, which was where they had decided to prepare to send her off, Professor McGonagall went off to fetch Harry and Ron as per her request. She wasn’t about to leave them behind without at least saying goodbye.

If she was going to leave this time behind to correct Dumbledore’s mistake and save the world, she wanted to at least say goodbye to her best friends. Dumbledore had said it himself. She wouldn’t be coming back. And if, by some chance she did get to see them again, she would likely be old and grey.

Madam Pomfrey was waiting for them when they got there, looking rather worn and tired. It was almost as if the medi-witch had aged ten years since the last time she saw her. Clearly she too was suffering under the effects of the school’s lock-down.

“Is everything ready?” Pomfrey asked.

Slughorn nodded. “Minerva will be arriving soon with the time turner. She just went to collect a few things for Miss Granger.”

The nurse nodded her head, casting a sympathetic look at Hermione before moving past them into her office.

As Slughorn escorted her over to sit down on one of the beds, Hermione couldn’t help but note how his usually big rosy cheeks had lost all color, and how his eyes held a slightly haunted look to them. He was worried, and she honestly couldn’t blame him.

“You, my girl, might just be one of the bravest student’s I’ve ever known,” Slughorn broke the silence that had washed over them. “I don’t know many who would have been willing to take on such a task as this.”

She managed to give him a weak smile. Despite his propensity to show favoritism, she couldn’t say that he was a bad man. He certainly made a better Potions Master than Snape. Unlike Snape, he actually cared about the well being of his students.

“Do you really think I can do this? Do you think I can save Vol- er, Tom?”

Professor Slughorn got a far off look in his eyes, as if remembering something from a long time ago. No doubt it had something to do with Tom.

“I believe that there is hope for him, especially with you in his life,” he explained. “Tom never had any real friends. Those he surrounded himself with were only there because he was powerful and charismatic. He was good at getting what he wanted and they knew that.

“It might not be easy, but if anyone can save him, I reckon it’s you.”

She thought about her potions master and how he must feel. This was one of his favorite students, or so she had been told, that she was going back to try and save. And if it worked out as she hoped it would, she might be able to save Harry’s mother, Lily, as well. He too was counting on her to succeed.

“I’ll do my best for all our sake's, sir.”

He smiled over at her appreciatively.

They sat there, returning to a comfortable silence as they waited.

Just then, the door slammed open and in came Harry and Ron, followed shortly after by McGonagall. Scanning the room quickly, it didn’t take long for their eyes to find her and hurry towards her.

“Hermione!”

“Please tell us it’s not true,” Ron pleaded.

“Read for yourself,” Hermione told them, handing them the scroll.

The boys read through Dumbledore’s last words with increasingly widening eyes. By the time they were finished, they both looked as though they were ready to resurrect Dumbledore just to kill him again with their bare hands.

“He’s mad if he thought for one second that we were gonna let you go off and do this on your own,” Harry declared, his fists curling up into fists.

“I mean, it’s Voldemort for Merlin’s sake!” Ron exclaimed. “He’ll rip you to pieces as soon as he finds out you’re muggle-born!”

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off before she could do so.

“How dare you dishonor Dumbledore’s noble sacrifice!” McGonagall snapped. “His greatest concern was the well-being and safety of everyone in this school! I highly doubt he would ask this if he thought we had any other choice.”

As much as Hermione wanted to take sides with McGonagall in defending the late headmaster, she found herself unable to do so. After everything that Dumbledore had put her and her friends through over the last six years, all for the so-called greater good, she couldn’t help but doubt the nobility of his actions.

“Come on Mione, surely you can see how dangerous this task is?”

She nodded her head. “I know exactly what it is he’s asking of me, and honestly, had it been just for his sake, I probably would have refused it, but think of all the good I could do if I succeed. All the lives I could save.”

She forced herself to look away, fearing that she might change her mind if she looked at their faces for even a minute longer.

“I’ve always wanted to make a difference, to make the wizarding world a better place for everyone. This is my chance to do that. Please, let me take the burden of saving the world off your shoulders for once, Harry.”

She waited for one of them to continue arguing with her, to make another excuse as to why she shouldn’t go. Moments passed yet no one spoke. She lifted her head back up just in time to see Harry step forward and pull her into a tight hug.

“You truly are the best friend I have ever had.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she hugged him back. It definitely made it a bit harder to go, knowing that she might never see him again, yet at the same time it also gave her a new source of determination. She had to go, not because anyone was forcing her to, but because people like Harry deserved more than what life in this broken war-torn world had given them.

Pulling away, he reached out to wipe away her tears with his fingers before he stepped back to Ron’s side.

“I’m going to miss you Hermione,” he said with a sad smile.

Meanwhile, Ron was staring at the two of them as if they were speaking some sort of foreign language. “Are you serious? You’re just going to let her go?”

He nodded his head, “It’s her choice.”

She couldn’t fight the tears that continued to come. “Thank you for understanding.”

With that out of the way, preparations for her journey began.

While McGonagall filled everyone in on what was going on outside of the castle and the death eaters that had been spotted marching towards the school, Madam Pomfrey returned from her office with a set of vintage looking children’s clothes and a letter, setting them down on the bed beside Hermione. Slughorn pulled out a vial filled with what looked like murky green water from the lake, handing it to her.

It was then that McGonagall stepped forward to explain the plan.

“The potion before you is something of an aging potion, rather with the opposite effect. With this potion, you will be aged back down to that of a child, around the age of ten we’re thinking.”

“Why would you turn her back into a child?” Ron interrupted. “Wouldn’t it be easier to save the world as she is?”

McGonagall glared at the red-headed boy, causing him to shrink back.

“I assure you, Mr. Weasley, we are doing this for a reason,” she told him before turning to face Hermione again, reaching into her pocket and holding up the silver time turner. “For you see, this time turner is set to place you just outside of Wool’s Orphanage in London on the date of June 15th, 1937.”

Hermione’s eyes widened as the realization dawned on her as to what they were planning. “You want me to meet Tom Riddle before he comes to Hogwarts?” she assumed.

McGonagall and Slughorn nodded their heads.

“The potion has been charmed to be more permanent, making it so that you will age alongside him,” Slughorn added.

She had to admit that it wasn’t a bad plan. The idea of meeting a child version of Voldemort was a lot less intimidating than meeting him as a sixteen-year-old, who had probably already made at least two horcruxes. Though, she couldn’t say that she was particularly eager to go through puberty a second time.

McGonagall explained a bit more. Once at Hogwarts, she was to try and remain as close to Tom as possible in the hopes that her friendship might be enough to lead him down a different path, hopefully a better one.

“Let’s get on with it then.”

Shooing the men away from the bed, Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall put up dividers all around her bed as they urged her to undress before taking the potion. As grateful as she was for the dividers, she still felt rather embarrassed about stripping naked in front of the medi-witch and transfiguration professor. Though, she supposed that she had no real reason to be.

“I warn you, the transformation might hurt a bit,” Pomfrey warned her as she handed her the vial.

Shutting her eyes tight and pinching her nose, she brought the vial up to her lips and downed the murky liquid as fast as she could, willing herself not to think about it or the fact that it tasted vaguely like seaweed. After a few moments, she managed to swallow it down.

Madam Pomfrey plucked the vial from her grasp. “Brace yourself!”

No sooner had the medi-witch spoken, then she felt herself begin to change. Pain shot through her whole body, forcing her to collapse back onto the bed. Her bones felt as though they were slowly breaking apart one by one. Her skin felt as if it was on fire, melting clean off of her.

As her brain became overwhelmed by panic, she couldn’t think of anything to compare the sensation to. Only that it was ten times worse than the time she accidentally turned herself into a cat.

In her agony, she couldn’t help the scream that tore out of her lungs.

“Hermione!”

The two older witches had to hold her down as she thrashed about, clawing at her skin. They tried to comfort her as best they could, reassuring her that it would be over soon and apologizing for making her go through this in the first place.

Gradually the pain began to dullen to a manageable ache. Flooded by relief, she began to breathe deeply in and out to calm herself.

“It’s over now.” She felt the older witches release their hold on her.

She delayed in doing so for a few moments as she waited for the pain to pass completely, a feeling of numbness taking its place. Pulling herself up into a sitting position, she slowly opened her eyes, starting with one and then the other.

The first thing she noticed was that both McGonagall and Pomfrey seemed to have grown. She was about to question it when she remembered the reason for the pain. Her eyes snapped down to look herself over.

To say that it was weird seeing her body reverted back to that of a child was… weird, to say the least. Her legs were short and not as slim as they were, same with her arms. The weirdest part was probably the fact that her breasts were gone. They had never been that big to begin with, but it was a bit frustrating as she had been just starting to get over her body insecurities.

Opening her mouth, she could feel that her two front teeth were back to being several sizes bigger than they ought to be. “I don't suppose you could…”

Madam Pomfrey nodded her head, understanding immediately what she meant. With a wave of her wand, she cast a shrinking spell on her teeth. It felt a bit weird, but not nearly as bad as the de-aging process itself. The next time she reached in to touch her teeth, she could feel that they were back to being the same size as all the others.

“Thank you,” she gave the medi-witch a small smile.

With a sigh, she got up and started to change into the child sized clothes she had been provided with; a pair of simple black buckle shoes, a pair of white socks and a floral print dress with a sash fastened around the waist and a bit of lace trim around the collar and sleeves.

Then McGonagall took on the seemingly impossible task of styling her hair. With some time and no small amount of effort, McGonagall managed to tame her wild curls, tying it back with a ribbon to keep it out of her face.

By the time she was handed a mirror to look herself over, she barely recognized herself. She looked like one of the old dolls she had as a child, which she supposed wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. The goal was to make her fit in with the time period, and as far as she could see, they had done a good job.

Pleased with her appearance, the dividers were pulled away, revealing her new appearance to the men waiting on the other side.

Slughorn smiled at her, nodding his head in approval while Harry and Ron just stood there staring at her with their mouths gaping open.

“Bloody hell…” Ron muttered.

She rolled her eyes at them. “It’s not polite to stare, you know.”

It took them a few moments to recover and shut their mouths, and even longer to find their tongue’s.

“You look great, Mione.”

Her cheeks flushed pink at Harry’s compliment. Even she had to admit that she wasn’t completely hideous. Although, it still felt rather weird for them to look so much taller and more grown up than her.

“Now, we shall go over the cover story we have come up with for you,” McGonagall said, carefully slipping the time turner around Hermione’s small neck. It was a bit big on her child sized body, but she didn’t worry about it too much. “Your name is still to be Hermione Granger and you are a muggle-born whose parents have recently died in a car accident. With no other family to take you in, your neighbours brought you to the orphanage and gave you this note to give to the Matron.”

Madam Pomfrey held the letter out to Hermione.

Reaching out, she took the letter and turned it over in her hands to examine it. It was written in an elegant spidery handwriting that she didn’t recognize. She assumed that it was Madam Pomfrey’s.

“Is that agreeable to you?”

Hermione nodded her head. It was simple enough, without deviating too far from the truth.

“You will not have your wand with you, so I would advise that you head straight towards the Orphanage upon your arrival, but before you do so, we must ask that you destroy the time turner. No one must know the truth of how you came to be in that time. From this moment forward you belong to that time. The future you come from will be no more.”

She gulped at that piece of information. Deep down she had known that would be the case all along, but now that she was hearing the exact words coming from McGonagall’s mouth, she couldn’t help but be hit by the full reality of it. This was not just some dream that she would be able to wake up from and find herself safe in the Gryffindor Tower with Harry and Ron. This was all too real.

Still, she was determined to go through with it. She had come too far to chicken out now. There was no turning back.

“I understand.”

Everyone stepped back to give her space as she took one last look at those with her.

She wasn’t sure if Madam Pomfrey or Professor McGonagall would still be at Hogwarts the next time she entered it’s gates. The only one whose presence she knew for certain was Professor Slughorn, and of course, Dumbledore would be there as well. It wasn’t much, but it gave her a small amount of comfort to know that there would be a couple of familiar faces.

Then she turned to Harry and Ron, taking in every inch of their appearance as if to memorize what they looked like. They had been through a lot together and though she wouldn’t wish such dangers on anyone, she had to admit that it had created an unbreakable bond between the three of them. She would always remember how they risked their lives to save her from that Mountain Troll in first year and though she might never see them again, she vowed to keep them alive in her heart.

“I’ll miss you all… so much.”

With nothing left to do, she reached down and started the time turner, watching as it began to turn rapidly.

The world around her vanished into nothing as she felt herself being sucked into a void of nothing but empty blackness. It felt kind of like apparating and yet, at the same time it also felt kind of like that time when she had port-keyed to the Quidditch World Cup. Either way, it made her feel like she was going to throw up.

She was left floating in the empty void for what felt like an eternity before she felt herself being sucked back out and she soon felt her feet land once more on solid ground.

The next thing she knew, she was standing at the end of a darkened city street, a row of identical looking Victorian townhouses on either side of her, and standing straight ahead at the other end of the street was a tall imposing building with a sign above the gates that read ‘Wool’s Orphanage’.

She had made it…

#tomione #tomione fanfiction #tomione fandom #harry potter #harry potter edit #harry potter fandom #hp fanfic #HP #hp fandom #harry potter fanfiction #fanfiction #eternalism

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daybreak-academy-fanfic · 4 years

Text

Daybreak Academy: Chapter 87

All Your Fault

Summary: In which Ephemer's self loathing almost becomes self destructive. Word Count: 1,968 First | Previous | Next ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆

“She did what?!”

Ephemer couldn't remember the last time he felt this livid. Skuld only gave him a disapproving lift of her eyebrow before returning to her textbook.

“I don't even know how you're surprised.” she informed him. “If you had just talked to her, then you'd probably be back together.”

“Were you not here the day I went over to her dorm, and found she changed the locks? And when I tried to knock on her door, she didn't answer?”

“Yes.” Skuld agreed with a short nod. “I was also there the day you debated for a solid hour on whether you should delete her number from your phone- just so you wouldn't feel bad every time you looked at it. Hmm... When did that occur again? Oh yeah, the day before you tried to get into her dorm.”

“Whose side are you on anyway?”

“Not yours, apparently.” came the nonchalant answer. Skuld squinted at her notebook for a moment before erasing a note she had made. She started rewriting it as she then told him, “However, if you're going to act like an idiot who didn't think she had the willpower to go to someone else-”

“Shut up!” Ephemer screaming, slamming his hands on the table. “Just shut up! Why can't you just listen to me for once instead of making things worse? I'm trying to have a conversation with you, and you just keep talking!”

“And I'm trying to do schoolwork!” Skuld shouted right back. “I don't have time for you to self loathe, Ephemer. Believe it or not, there are other things more important in this world than you.”

Frustrated, and becoming even more angered, Ephemer hit the tabletop at its side before getting up and leaving Skuld alone. He stomped out of the cafeteria to some place even he wasn't aware of yet. There were plenty of places for him to go, after all. He knew every inch of this school. No one could hide from him even if they wanted to. That included know-it-all best friends, stupid pretty boys that could take any girl they wanted, and -above all else- raspberry-pink haired exes that somehow had the absolute audacity to go after some after guy just days after breaking up with you.

Could you see why this totally wasn't his fault, and how the world just wanted to hate him at the moment?

Ephemer stormed into his room, making gratuitous use of slamming the door behind him, before heading over to his bed. He growled before whacking the metal bed frame with his foot. Ephemer then immediately started cursing from the pain. He hated everything right now; his room, the bed, Anora, Skuld, and Brain. Was that even a real name? Who would name their kid Brain? Did something go wrong in the translation department, or was someone trying to be cute?

Still grumbling, Ephemer crawled onto his bed and laid down on the mattress. He took one of his pillows and tightly wrapped it around his head like a helmet. He laid his head down, closed his eyes, and wished to know what dumbo thought it was a good idea to name their child after a bodily organ.

When Ephemer opened his eyes again, he was sitting on a park bench by the gym. He was dressed completely to the nines in a suit that was a hand-me-down from Gula. Ephemer blinked, trying to figure out why he was dressed like this before realizing that someone was sitting beside him. His heart almost stopped at seeing Anora there. She too was dressed rather splendorous; wearing a light blue dress that caught every breeze in a beautiful flow. Except right now she was sitting, and each breeze instead made her shiver.

"Are you too cold now?" he carefully asked. "I can give you my jacket if you want it."

But Anora shook her head. Ephemer frowned, his eyebrows furrowing in a light worry. The was a pain growing in his chest now. It hurt, a lot. But he could ignore it for the time being. What mattered most was Anora. She truly was beautiful- even with the embarrassment shared between them for her minor swooning episode. He needed to say something. He needed her to know just how beautiful she was.

Giving a wistful sigh, the boy started to fondly remark, “Hey Ano-”

“There you are!”

Both teens blinked in confusion for a moment before turning to the source of the voice. To Ephemer's utter fear, and Anora's relief, it was Brain.

“Thank you for getting Anora out of the gym, Ephemer.” the older student grinned, tilting his hat at the younger. “It was getting super stuffy in there anyway. How are you feeling, pretty girl? Was letting Ephemer take you for a spin on the dance floor too much for you?”

Anora simply smiled before getting up off the bench. Brain returned the gesture with a sweet smile of his own- he gently bend down to take her hand, kissing her knuckles with a tenderness that Ephemer clearly envied.

“Brain,” Ephemer started to argue, “Anora and I were just-” He didn't finish his sentence. Instead he gave a rather nasty cough. Anora and Brain didn't seem to notice. Instead, the couple started to head back toward the gym. Ephemer immediately jumped from the bench to follow them.

“Hey, wai-” he tried to call out to them, but he was coughing so hard now that he had to bend over. A part of him expected to throw up- something was definitely getting caught in his throat and forcing its way up. He thought he was going insane when a white fluffy dandelion seed came out of his mouth. For a moment, all he could do was stare at it.

“Dandelions?” he wondered to himself before coughing up more dandelion seeds. “Why…?”

“Why did you hurt her?”

Something in Ephemer froze before he nearly snapped his neck to look up. Standing there, on opposite sides of him, were two different versions of himself. The him on the left was dressed like a knight. This version of him had seen and been through wars, and death, and mental torture orchestrated by a higher power. The other him on the right had also seen a devastating war -one that involved children fighting their own friends- along with distrust and confusion in the world starting after.

They both had their own Anora- an Anora that died, or almost died, and their guilt could be felt in our far more mundane Ephemer. They also had to leave their respective Anora under unfair circumstances. Circumstances that, compared to the other two Ephemers, our Ephemer could never imagine in all of his years. A simple breakup after a bad argument was what these Ephemers wished they could have done to their Anoras. Our Ephemer had it easy, and yet he still made their love suffer.

“Why did you hurt her again?” the Ephemer on the right questioned in monotone. Looking at our Ephemer with soulless eyes.

“But I-” Ephemer tried to argue, but he suddenly lurched as another pool of dandelions came pouring out of his mouth.

“Why did you hurt her?” the Ephemer on the left echoed. His eyes were also without life. He almost looked like he wanted to cry.

Our Ephemer tried to open his mouth to argue, only another expulsion of dandelion seeds came out. The intervals were becoming more frequent. Ephemer continued to heave and dandelions continued to come out of his mouth in a terrifying frequency. The other Ephemers were not helping with the terror growing in our Ephemer's chest. They continued their question, their accusatory, numb, question, as Ephemer continued to expel more and more dandelions. The pain felt even worse than this- tears forming at the corners of Ephemer's eyes as he could do nothing but hear the others question and let the dandelions flow out of his mouth like the words he should have said.

Nothing could have stopped this pain. This madness. He just wanted to… To...

Ephemer finally catapulted out of his sleep with a sharp inhale. His brain was pounding in his skull as he quickly looked around his room, trying to get some bearings on where he was. He was in his dorm at Daybreak Academy. Where else was he expected to be? This familiar room was his world, after all. Ephemer made a disheartened glance at his clock. It was almost time for dinner- he might as well start heading over to the cafeteria.

The young man wondered if he was even walking straight at this point. His head still pounding like a drum, his thoughts occupied on his weird dream. He barely even registered that he actually entered the cafeteria. Let alone that someone placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Ephemer?” a small voice asked. “Are you alright?”

Confused, Ephemer slightly turned around to see Strelitzia standing there. Her face was contemplative- as if she had debated for awhile if she should approach him or not.

“I'm fine.” he easily dismissed. But the Vulpes girl gently shook her head.

“No, you're not.” she rebutted. “Everyone knows that you're taking the breakup as hard as Anora is. Maybe even worse.”

At this, Ephemer gave a dark snort. “Anora? Hurting over this? Zee, please, she immediately went to Brain because she couldn't handle being alone. She didn't love me.”

Strelitzia flinched. “You don't know that.”

“Don't I?” Ephemer immediately spat back, his anger coming back to him tenfold. “You have no idea what it's like! You don't know what it's like watching Anora go off with someone else, be happy with someone else, that isn't you! Even when she had you for months -months!- as if that time didn't matter! You wouldn't know at all what it's like to fall in love with someone so… So dense!”

At this, the Vulpes student shuffled her feet a little.

“I fell in love with Anora the moment I saw her.” she quietly admitted. “She was sitting outside one of the classrooms, waiting for her house results to come back. She just looked so… overwhelmed and dejected. My heart immediately went out to her. I hadn't felt like that since...”

Ephemer gave Strelitzia a rather confused look. Her hands were nervously knit into each other, and she refused to look him in the eye. A wave of stupidity crashed against Ephemer's skull like a wrecking ball. How could he forget that Strelitzia had liked Anora too? She was the one that took Anora's first kiss, after all. The cause of all the events that led to him and Anora getting together to begin with. It all started with Strelitzia.

And all this time, she knew this. All this time, she had to watch Anora date Ephemer instead of being with her. Strelitzia turned her head slightly, still refusing to look Ephemer in the eye. In an even tinier whisper, she admitted, “I still love her too.”

“Strelitzia...” the young man mumbled, “I didn't know.”

Strelitzia shrunk a little, saying nothing further about her thoughts.

“I have to go.” she did eventually tell him. “Lauriam and I are having dinner with Elrena. You're welcome to join us if you want.”

Even at the offer, Strelitzia quickly left without hearing Ephemer's reply. This left Ephemer on his own again. He simply remained where he was, almost dumbstruck by what Strelitzia had told him. Maybe he'd take her up on the offer to sit with them; he had so many questions for her now. Not that he should be asking them at dinner, but still.

“This wasn't my fault.” Ephemer grumbled to himself. And yet, in the back of his mind, he could still hear those inner thoughts whisper; “Yes it was.”

#daybreak academy #chapter 87 #tw: hanahaki #Ephemer #Skuld #Strelitzia #Season 3

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secret-engima · 4 years

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Nox keeps giving the media meltdowns. How's that, y'know, working out for him? And what's the general reaction around the Citadel crew to the media circus? Also, how do people feel when they realize exactly how /powerful/ Nox is?

Hmmm for the most part, Nox is ... ambivalent to how many times he sends the media into a tizzy. He’s got memories of 2k worth of royalty and scandals, he remembers the invention of media networks and sometimes dreams of the invention of the flipping printing press. There is literally nothing they can say about him that he doesn’t already have memories of somehow. Honestly, it’s .... alternately tiring and hilarious to him. He kinda wishes people would take a chill pill, but on the other hand, since Regis would never force him to deal with the media circus unless Nox willingly agreed to it, he doesn’t particularly care. At least until he wants to- you know- leave the Citadel and go literally anywhere in Insomnia and Then It Becomes A Problem (Nox misses the days he was just a nobody with earrings and baggy clothes. So much). Though, since he knows that nothing he can do or not do will calm them down, he does occasionally indulge in intentionally poking them with a proverbial stick.

By Citadel crew I’m uncertain to if you mean Regis and Co + Chocobros or the long-suffering Citadel press corps, so I will just do both-

-Regis feels So Very Sorry for his eldest. He knows he couldn’t keep Nox a secret forever, but he honestly had ... hoped it wouldn’t get this bad. He’s afraid for a while that the media things will depress Nox or make him afraid to leave the Citadel/angry at being Regis’s son, but Nox just rolls his eyes at everything and ignores the media hounds with catlike ease (by which I mean he spaces out into the distance with a neutral expression and occasionally does the human version of pushing things off other things to distract them).

-Clarus knew this was coming. He knew it was going to get so much worse when Axis’s existence came out (it did). He ... would feel bad about this but this is just- royal/celebrity life. This is a slightly more hysterical version of normal. Honestly it’s the noble society he’s more worried about (he realizes quickly that his fears are unfounded, for a kid who’s been unknown for years he can verbally tear nobles to shreds with the best of them. Clearly a talent inherited from the Izunia side of his heritage).

-Cor hates the media. Always has, always will. No time for it. Not after all the stuff they threw out about him becoming a Crownsguard and then alter their role in cementing his hated Immortal title. Is fully waiting and ready for Nox to get mad enough at the media to condone Cor going out and doing Something Stupid And Maybe Bloody about it. Unfortunately, Nox never does, so Cor has to just sit and seethe and occasionally laugh evilly over Nox’s latest trolling behavior.

-Noctis doesn’t even know about the media storm for y e a r s. He’s the bby Crown Prince, you really think anyone is gonna let this kid watch the news channels and the gossip talk shows? No sir. Not on Ignis’s watch. Noctis DOES hear about it at school though, with students bugging him about it and even TEACHERS side-eyeing him like they expect something Dramatic to happen. Noctis eventually gets sick of it and punches another student in the face probably. Ignis is scandalized, Regis tries to gently explain that no, Noctis cannot throw someone in dungeon because they said nasty things about Nox and no he is not explaining what those nasty things mean.

-Ignis is ashamed to look back and realize that he once bought into about 80% of the media meltdown over Nox. Now that he knows Nox better, he knows that none of it is remotely true and the world is not going to turn Game of Thrones on him. Now he’s ... very insulted on Nox’s behalf, but understands that it is not his place to intervene (though he does give patented Frosty Looks at any reporters that come sniffing around the Citadel forever after).

-Gladio does not watch conventional TV. He watches action blockbusters that have explosions, documentaries on wildlife/camping/hunting/sword-making and Iris’s favorite show about magical girls and talking, rainbow colored Chocobo companions when she makes the puppy eyes at him. That’s it. Is ... nominally aware of news and social media having fits over Nox but Does Not Care so long as they don’t bother Nox and nobody actually tries anything against Noctis’s big brother.

-Citadel press corps kinda hates Nox’s guts. On one hand, he is a Model Prince because he doesn’t go out and get drunk, doesn’t have wild parties, doesn’t have any actual scandals that they need to cover up or spin positively. On the other ... refuses to do press conferences. Refuses to do interviews. Refuses to do anything to help them mitigate the media meltdowns that his mere existence causes (and the events of the Music Drabble I have yet to write, OH BOY do they hate him for that). Just- hides in the Citadel and only makes appearances when it’s a mandatory ball/gala/thing or when he’s accidentally unleashing another media Meltdown. Agrees to one (1) private interview when he’s 18 and even then it’s ONLY if he can talk to some random, unknown rookie who runs a gossip column. They, by turns, want to strangle him and praise his existence, but at least he isn’t as bad as Regis and Clarus were in their day.

-It- would take a long time for people to really know how powerful Nox is. Like- out in the wilds of Lucis proper? There ARE people who know he’s way stronger than he lets on (the Hunter Corps and their families that he’s saved a bunch of times, plus everybody in Hammerhead who politely pretended Cid wasn’t housing the Nif Chancellor and his LC nephew for two years). The Hunter Corps, out of everyone, have the best idea of just what Nox is capable of, because they’ve ... put together a few things over the years. Like how Nox usually crops up in the area a day or so before a Niflheim base gets shredded/blown up/otherwise Wrecked™ for seemingly no reason. But his Real Power? That ... I’m honestly not sure how that would come out.

-But hypothetically, sure, let’s say something happened that made Nox go Full Fury on some poor hapless Nif soul (or army, probably an army). I’m gonna picture ... a Incident with a Kingsglaive held area. Nox is out there for like an official inspection or something, one of the Very Few media things he ever agrees to, when there’s a full on attack. While the poor Media People who are live streaming this freak out and the glaive get ready for a slaughter, Nox just- real calmly orders the glaive to Stay In the Base and keep an eye on the media people. Calmly walks out the base gate without so much as a by your leave and starts limp-striding his way toward the Impending Invasion of Death, Axis right at his side, just as calm (Axis knows what’s coming after all). Some glaives try to follow him because Obviously only to smack face first into - a Wall. A genuine magic Wall like the one encircling Insomnia.

-The entire Lucian nation plus whatever non-Lucian channels manage to pick this up get a livestream view of Nox raising a mini Wall around the base to keep everyone safe, then casually strolling out toward the Invasion force and just-

-Decimating it.

-About halfway between the invasion force and the base, Nox stops and raises a hand to the sky, a sword appears in his grip, and everyone present can feel magical pressure suddenly build-build-build until the air turns blue (the Wall keeps everyone inside safe from the intensity of the pressure except Axis, who doesn’t need it, he is Nox’s Shield and Nox will never hurt him). The Nifs release their war Behemoths on the field, gunships are coming in for the kill, and then-

-His sword sweeps down and the world shakes under the force of the pure energy wave that rises from his blade, sweeping across the distance between him and the enemy and either breaking, scattering, or straight up disintegrating anything in its path. An imperial dreadnought splits in half and then breaks into dozens upon dozens of pieces, the war-beasts caught in the path of the wave are just- gone. So are the MT units and gunships.

-Ever seen the upgraded armiger attacks from the Royal Version of FFXV? Yeah, picture those, but cranked up to eleven. Or just picture those and then imagine being an ordinary civilian seeing that for the first time. Ghostly blades whirling around Nox’s form, defending him from bullets and debris only to lash out as literal waves of energy or a death laser.

-Needless to say, Nox destroys that invading force single-handedly in a display not unlike the legends of Ragnarok or Armageddon, all while holding a Wall around the base. He then calmly turns, walks back to the base, asks if everyone is okay, and upon getting the all clear-

-Collapses. Straight up flops over into Axis’s arms while on national live television because someone forgot to eat anything today and spent most of the previous night fretting over nightmares or something (the rest of the world assumes he pushed himself way too far with that display, but really he could have done more if he hadn't already been tired/hungry and Axis knows it).

-For once, the media meltdown isn’t punctuated by frenzy but by a very, very fragile, frightened silence.

-It’s been ... a long time since a Lucis Caelum has Truly unleashed their power on the field and Nox is no ordinary LC.

-Clips of Nox’s stunt circulate for months, are analyzed by historians and doctors and talk show hosts for precedents and health risk and just sheer What levels. Social media ranges from cheering Nox on to snidely wondering why LCs aren’t doing that more often to a huge outpouring of concern for the prince who just fought off a literal army and then collapsed like he’d been decked in the head. The Hunter Corp all pool their resources together to get this idiot kid a care package, Cid probably comes over from Hammerhead to yell at him while Cindy bear hugs and cries all over his clothes.

-In Niflheim ... a lot of people are reevaluating their stance on the war. Because if that is what just one Lucis Caelum can do, then what’s going to happen when there are two of-age princes who are not chained down by the Wall?

-A lot of nobles in Lucis are also reevaluating their stances on the illegitimate prince, because UMMMMMM that’s the kind of thing that only happens in blockbuster dramas, and Nox did it in real life. More than that, he knew he could do it, as evidenced by how calm he was when he gave the order for everyone to stay.

-Lots of internet conspiracy/theory people try to figure out just how powerful Nox is and if he’s an anomaly in the bloodline because seriously can all LCs do that????

-A lot of people, for a lot of different reasons, are very, very scared of Nox now. Either because they still believe that GoT is inbound and that just put the kibosh on a lot of their rebellion daydreams or because Nox is already a wild card and now he’s proven that he’s a supremely dangerous wildcard.

-So basically, still a meltdown, but this one much, much quieter and more reverent.

-Assuming I ever do something like this in Nox versa canon, because I’m not sure I will.

#SE asks #anon asks #Nox verse #Secret Engima Rambles #HOW DID THIS GET SO LONG MY WORD #I didn't mean for it to get this long

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hide-in-imagination · 4 years

Text

“Roads That Cross... With Delfi and Jazmín” (Part 1)

You can read the previous chapters here: (1), (2), (3), (4), (5), (6), (7), (8), (9), (10), (11), (12), (13)

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This chapter ended up being way longer than I anticipated so I took the healthy decision of dividing it in two. That way you get updates faster, and I have time to figure stuff out in the meantime. Enjoy!

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Simón wasn’t sure where the urge had come from, but he didn’t question it as he made the short walk to the mansion to get his guitar.

Part of him hoped he’d find Ámbar there or in the way there. He wanted to feel her close. He wanted to bury his face in her neck and breathe in the smell of her hair. It was a scent he could recognize now; even carried it with him after that morning, although he couldn’t smell it in himself. He still didn’t know exactly what it was 'cause the bottle didn’t show it, but it was nice, and most importantly, his memory associated it with sweet moments with Ámbar. Maybe if he smelled it, he’d feel better. Maybe if she just smiled at him, he’d feel better.

He didn’t find her.

Simón almost stayed in the storage room. Not because he wanted to hide from Benicio but because the calmness of the empty room was inviting. He could just stay for a while, play a couple songs without anyone bothering him…

You wanna lose your job too?

With a sigh, Simón placed the guitar inside its gig bag and made his return to the Roller alone.

Once inside, Simón walked to the stage and sat on its edge, bringing his guitar close and playing with the strings. Soon, a melody came about, a nostalgic one, and his voice came out to join it.

Te vas amor,

si así lo quieres qué le voy a hacer

Tu vanidad no te deja entender

Que en la pobreza se sabe querer…

Right as he began the next verse, another voice started singing, taking him by surprise. Simón snapped his head to the side and saw Luna, smiling widely as she walked closer to sit at his left. Seeing her smile brought a smile to him as well, and he strummed the guitar harder, with more vivacity, singing the chorus with her.

For two minutes, Simón forgot about everything. He felt back in Cancún, under the sun he had grown up with. He could almost hear the waves and their laughs with Luna and the voice of her mom begging him to stop playing that song.

Then the song was over, the strings rigid and static once again, just like his life. He felt stuck, as if, at some point, the solid ground under his feet had been replaced by a treadmill, and no matter how hard he ran, he didn’t arrive anywhere.

Simón didn’t have many moments like these; he didn’t allow himself to. He had learned— internalized from a very young age that a positive attitude was the key to achieve everything in life. And it wasn’t a karma thing where you expected the world to return your good deeds back to you one day, it was about how you chose to see things. Whenever something dragged you down or didn’t go as you wanted it to, you had two options: let it get you down or keep going. Simón kept going. He kept advancing and advancing, but there would always come a point where the big boulder he was pushing up the hill would roll back down and try to crush him.

This was one of those moments.

It was stupid, really. Benicio thrived on making other people’s lives miserable, for all intents and purposes he shouldn’t have listened to him. But he couldn’t un-listen to him, so now he had a cacophony of voices in his head calling him a failure. Telling him to go back to his country. Telling him that he wasn’t good enough.

“This song talks about love,” Luna told him hesitatingly, her green eyes showing worry. “Is there anyone that you think doesn’t deserve a love that’s sincere?”

It was funny. Some months ago, drowned in bitterness and hurt feelings, he would’ve answered ‘Ámbar’. Now though, it was like the lyrics he had sung a thousand times over had transformed into something else while remaining the same. It was like looking at something that could be written by a future version of himself. A version of himself abandoned with nothing left but a song.

“I wasn’t thinking about the lyrics,” he replied. It was both true and a lie. He was thinking about everything and nothing at once. A part of him was screaming at him to stop making up scenarios in his head while another kept answering ‘but what if they come true?’

Keep going.

Suddenly, Luna said she had to go, so Simón put on a smile to make it easier for her to do so.

Once again, it was just him and his guitar.

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

Five times. Sharon had left five times enough money to pay for the tea and coffee they had consumed. She probably hadn’t even bothered to look at the prices and hadn’t taken the time to count in her haste to leave Ámbar alone once again. How long had they been together? Ten minutes? Five?

I failed.

Ámbar stayed in her seat, finishing her tea as she wallowed in everything that had gone wrong. Not only was Sharon not stopping but now she was mad about Simón. Oh, Simón; she had lied to him telling him she was going to see Vidia, all for what? She had told Sharon that she wasn’t going to tell him anything, and for what?

She didn’t know if what she was feeling was fear, frustration or anguish. Maybe all three. What was she gonna do? What could she do? She was trapped.

A sudden wave of anger hit her. This was all Sharon’s fault. All of it. She wouldn’t be in any mess if it wasn’t for her. Had Sharon ever even thanked her for all she had done for her? No, of course not, it’s just what was expected of her. And now she had the audacity to tell her who she should and shouldn’t be with? She wanted her to renounce something that made her happy just because of a whim of hers? She knew Sharon was selfish, but this was something else.

Ámbar reached for the bills Sharon had left. She didn’t want anything from her, she’d pay the drinks herself. She almost wanted to tear the money apart. She almost did. But then she got an idea.

No; she was going to spend it. And she was gonna spend it on something for Simón. It was the biggest ‘fuck you’ move she could manage at the moment and she was gonna do it.

With her mind made, she asked for the check, paid, and left the Café to go visit some stores.

---------------------

The plan had been to just buy him something and go back to the Roller quickly, but once she started looking through different things, Ámbar lost sense of time.

It occurred to her that it was the first time she was shopping for Simón. What could he like? What would be useful? Those questions repeated on her mind. She got a little over-excited going through the stores, seeing everything on a new light because she wasn’t thinking about her tastes but about his.

Of course, she had bought stuff for Matteo when they were dating, but that had been different. Back then, she had done it almost with professionalism, going for the prestigious brands first, thinking about which accessory would fit more with his style or which item of clothes would go better with his skin color.

Clothes. Clothes are useful, he could like that.

As Ámbar went through different male sections, she confirmed how different it was to shop for Simón. She didn’t think about brands; she knew he didn’t care about that. Instead, she looked at different items and imagined how they would look on him. She thought about which one would make Simón happier, or which one would make her want to take it off him the most.

Not everything was fun though. Against her will, her conversation with Sharon continued to play on her mind. Her blind rage against the Valente, her accusation that Ámbar had switched sides, her ice-cold voice telling her to break up with Simón...

It was the first time that Sharon ordered her something and Ámbar straight out refused. The fact made her proud as much as it scared her. What if Sharon was serious about wanting her away from Simón? What if there was retaliation? What if she did something?

Don’t be ridiculous, Ámbar, this is not a soap opera.

Sharon wasn’t going to hire assassins or something. Ironically, she would have to actually care to do anything about it, and all her life experiences had shown her that she did not.

‘You better listen to me, Ámbar, it’s for your own good.’

Ámbar put the hook she had been holding back into its rack with a little more force than necessary. ‘For your own good’; she was so sick of hearing that phrase from her mouth. To tell her that she would go down with her, that no one would forgive her…

She doesn’t need to tell me that, I know it already.

Ámbar shoved all of that out of her mind and re-focused on the clothes. She was gonna give Simón something, he was gonna be happy, and he wasn’t going to leave her.

The low budget made things difficult. Of course, she could use her credit card and not just Sharon’s money but, one, that would defeat the purpose, and two, she felt if she pulled her card out, she was going to end up buying half the mall and then Simón would feel bad and scold her for spending so much on him.

Well, he better be prepared for his birthday. There was no way she wouldn’t fill him with presents then.

If we’re still together, her mind retorted immediately. She focused all her will into ignoring that.

By the time she finally made it out of the mall, it had been hours. She felt irresponsible for leaving her work on the side for so long, but it was time well spent. She wanted to get to the Roller quickly and see Simón’s face.

But when she arrived, he wasn’t there. Confused, she turned to Pedro who was retrieving empty plates from a recently vacant table and asked him about Simón.

“He said he was going to the mansion and coming right back.”

Ámbar frowned. That was unusual. Maybe he had forgotten something that morning?

Anyway, he thanked Pedro and was making her way through the cafeteria to wait for Simón when she heard voices coming from the dressing room. The door was ajar, so she stopped right before it to avoid being seen and concentrated on listening. Normally, she wouldn’t have eavesdropped —the days where she focused on what everyone else was doing were behind her— but she immediately recognized the voices inside, and it did not sound good.

“...the Red Sharks no longer exist,” Ramiro was saying, his voiced clipped.

“Maybe it would still exist if its teammates weren’t traitors,” Benicio spat resentfully.

“The reason it doesn’t exist anymore is that you don’t even care about skating, all you two care about is ruining everyone else's lives! Just leave Delfi and Jazmín alone,” Ramiro exclaimed forcefully.

Ámbar’s attention peaked at hearing her ex-best friends’ names. Why was Benicio going against Jazmín and Delfi?

“We are not going to do anything; they did it to themselves all on their own. And I don’t remember asking for your opinion, traitor. Benicio, did you ask for his opinion?”

Oh, so Emilia was also there. It didn’t surprise her. Ever since Benicio arrived, she hanged to his every word. Ámbar had noticed some jealousy coming from her when Benicio and her had been… together. (God, how she hated to remember that.) Now that she was out of the way, Emilia had clearly stepped up to take the role of his right-hand woman. Or, more exactly, the same pitiful role she had played with Matteo.

“No, I didn’t,” Benicio answered, and Ámbar could perfectly imagine the cocky face he was making. “It seems to me like you’re just desperate for someone to talk to, Ramiro, interrupting conversations like that. But you made your choice. We don’t want you anywhere near us.”

“And if your besties from the Roller don’t want you near either, then… I’m sorry, honey. But you’re going to be very, very alone.”

Emilia’s mocking tone made Ámbar want to slap her. They had been something like friends once, but the more time passed, her attitude became worse. Ámbar had had the hope that Emilia would come to her senses since she was not stupid, but with Benicio’s influence and her trying to win his attention… It was a bad mix.

If the pair had been trying to intimidate Ramiro, it didn’t work. His voice sounded firm and decided when he replied, “I prefer it that way.”

“Leave Delfi and Jazmín alone, I mean it,” he said with a warning tone, and next thing Ámbar knew, he was walking out the door, almost colliding with her.

Ramiro’s eyes widened when they focused on her.

“Á—”

Quickly, Ámbar rose her hands in a gesture for him to remain quiet and dragged him away by the arm. She stopped inside the lockers and turned to Ramiro.

“What was that about?” She asked in some of a quiet voice in case Emilia or Benicio walked by. “I heard Delfi and Jazmín being mentioned, what are Benicio and Emilia planning?”

Ramiro let out a deep sigh. “Sadly, I have to admit that Delfi and Jazmín were the ones who got themselves in this situation.”

“What situation?”

“Did you watch their last videos?”

Ámbar blinked. “No? I have more important things to do.”

“Like going shopping?” He asked sardonically, giving a look to the bag she had left behind her on top of the bench.

“Oh. No, that was just an improvised gift for Simón,” she dismissed.

Ramiro gave her the cheekiest smile and look on the planet. “Awww, the little princess is in love.”

Ámbar rolled her eyes.

“Don’t tease me, Ramiro, just tell me what’s up.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Fine,” he sighed. “So, basically, Delfi’s and Jazmín’s last videos were almost identical. Everyone assumed one had copied the other and each of them claimed the other was the copycat, which generated a fight.”

“Okay…”

“But, the truth is that they planned it all. They made the whole scandal to gain views and subscribers.”

Ámbar raised her eyebrows. “Really…”

And then they complained that it was she who pushed them to do these kinds of things. Look at them now. She didn’t even talk to them and they had planned a scam all on their own!

They could not blame her influence for this one, and Ámbar felt a little happy about that. It was almost vindication. Also, it served as proof that even ‘the good ones’ made bad deeds sometimes.

Contrary to her silent joy, Ramiro looked troubled.

“It was wrong what they did, I know that. But now that Benicio and Emilia know about it, they’re going to tell the whole world and I’m worried about what’ll happen to the girls.”

If Ámbar knew the internet at all, they were going to get a lot of hate once the news broke out. Backlash from a failed plan was something she was definitely familiar with.

“Well... you’re right,” she told Ramiro. “They did get themselves in this situation.” Just as she’d had to deal with the consequences of her actions, Delfi and Jazmín would have to deal with theirs.

“Yeah, but Benicio and Emilia shouldn’t get to enjoy it,” Ramiro retorted with frustration.

It was a good point. Yes, the girls had made a mistake, but Benicio and Emilia turning it into a victory of sorts for them didn’t sit well with her at all. It could be that all Delfi and Jazmín would have to face would be some angry comments, but to Delfi, and especially Jazmín, their followers’ opinions were important. It was going to be a hard blow.

“Although, maybe nothing will happen,” Ramiro continued on a hopeful note. “Even if Benicio and Emilia expose them, who will believe them? It’s not like they have a good reputation in the Fab & Chic or Ja Jazmín.”

“That’s a good point,” Ámbar agreed.

Ramiro looked pensive. “I think I’ll tell the girls anyway. Just in case.”

She nodded. “Yeah, better. I’ll be here all day so, if I see them, I’ll give them a heads up too.”

Ramiro smiled and gave a playful shove to her shoulder. “Look at you, being all nice. What happened to the ‘I don’t care about anyone or anything’ attitude?”

Ámbar shrugged with pursed lips. “I just think they have the right to know. Maybe if they have time to prepare themselves it won’t be so bad…” she averted her gaze. “I surely would’ve liked some heads ups.” About a lot of things.

She could feel his eyes on her in the silence that followed, but she wasn’t expecting what he said next.

“I know you didn’t mean to burn the rink.”

Surprised, Ámbar turned to see him. His gaze was kind as he showed her a sad smile.

“You do?” She asked hesitatingly.

“Yeah,” he confirmed assuredly. “You’re like me; skating is a part of us. To think that you’d intentionally destroy this place is absurd.”

Ámbar’s whole body reacted with energy and her hands rose to the sky. “Why, thank you! Finally someone uses some common sense!”

He laughed at her utter elation and she laughed in utter relief. Finally, finally someone believed her. Well, she assumed Simón believed her too since she doubted he would’ve gotten back together with her otherwise, but he hadn’t believed it at first, and it was nice to actually hear the words for once.

It gave Ámbar just a little hope. Maybe with time, more people would believe her too.

“Well, since I’m here, I think I’m gonna skate for a while,” Ramiro said, walking to his locker and opening it. He spun to look at her. “Wanna join me?”

She gave him a sorry smile. “Thanks but I have to work. I ignored my responsibilities for too long already.”

“Okay, I’ll see you later then,” he said with a smile, pulling out his skates.

“Okay.”

Ámbar walked out of the lockers and headed back to the cafeteria. The moment she stepped foot in there, the first thing she saw as if pulled in by a magnet, was Simón scrunched back as he talked with Luna, sat on the edge of the stage. He had his guitar over his legs, but even without it, she knew she would’ve recognized him. Just as her eyes always found him.

Her chest instantly filled with glee. It had only been a couple hours but, she realized that she had missed him.

Over his shoulder, Luna saw her and their gazes met. Quickly, she said something to Simón and stood, leaving him alone. She gave Ámbar a little smile as she walked to the other side of the bar and then sat in one of the couches.

Ámbar understood the gesture and returned the smile, albeit feeling a little weird. She still wasn’t used to being amicable toward Luna. She suspected it would take a while considering how long she had spent hating her guts. But she didn’t hate her anymore, and she was an important part of Simón’s life; that was a big reason for them to get along.

Luna must have come to the same conclusion, and Ámbar wasn’t about to waste the opportunity.

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

Fingerpicking was something Simón had struggled with when he first started playing guitar. Now it was something he did without thinking, or rather, it was something he could do automatically while thinking of something else entirely.

If he hadn’t been distracted, he probably would’ve heard the footsteps behind him. But he was and he didn’t, so when a pair of hands touched his shoulders and he felt a kiss on his cheek, he nearly jumped.

Simón spun in a flash and his heart skipped another beat when he saw that smile.

“Ámbar,” he said surprised as she happily took sit beside him. He left his guitar aside. “You arrived.”

He had wanted to see her all day but, now that she was there in front of him, he wasn’t sure what he felt. His head was a mess at the moment, too many worries and situations that may or may not happen fluttered around.

But seeing her smiling at him, looking at him with nothing but affection… it eased the knot of anxiety in his chest a little bit.

“Actually, you arrived. I’ve been here for some minutes now,” she informed him.

He was surprised once again. “What? Really? I didn’t see you.”

“Ah, I was in the lockers with Ramiro until now, that’s probably why. And you weren’t here when I arrived,” she explained. “Now I see why you went out. Did you get a strike of inspiration or something?” She asked, signaling to his guitar.

Simón brought his gaze to the instrument. “Something like that.”

He didn’t want to talk about his worries now that she was finally with him. Especially what had to do with her. She’d probably just scold him anyway for listening to Benicio in the first place. It was silly. It wasn’t worth it.

“Everything okay with Vidia?” he said instead, to avoid the topic. “You were out for a while.”

Ámbar blinked, and for one second, he thought he saw a change in her expression, but it was gone very quick.

“Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine, everything went well,” she replied smiling and held one of his hands.

Suddenly, he was reminded of how much he had wanted to hold her before. The feeling of her hand against his may have not been much, even friends held hands sometimes and it didn’t mean anything deep, but right now, it was reassuring. She was there, with him, sweet and tangible.

A shout came from afar.

“Ámbar!”

She turned around and Simón tilted his head to the left to look behind her. Ramiro was skating toward them, which was weird because that usually wasn’t allowed in the cafeteria. He was holding a white paper bag in one of his hands.

“You forgot your present.”

Ámbar let go of Simón’s hand and stood rapidly.

“Oh my god, thank you,” she said, and received the bag when Ramiro reached them. “How silly of me.”

Simón stood up as well and watched them. A bad feeling settled on the pit of his stomach; one he didn’t like but also couldn’t help. Why is Ramiro giving gifts to Ámbar? He thought. And, of course, the immediate reason was because they’re friends, but were they really that close already? Since when? And how close?

There was nothing wrong in Ramiro giving her something, he knew that, but Simón felt defeated all the same. He hadn’t even given Ámbar a gift yet and he was her boyfriend. Wasn’t he supposed to do those things?

Completely unaware of Simón’s discomfort, Ramiro smiled at Ámbar.

“You’re welcome, little princess,” he told her. With a wink. Then he looked at both of them and said, “I’ll leave you two alone.”

Just like that, he turned on his skates and began sliding back to where he came from. On the way, he was approached by Luna, who started following him. “Ramiro! Hi! How would you feel about being a background dancer?”

Simón barely registered all of that because his mind was still on the wink, on the gift, and on the ‘Little princess’.

Since when did they treat each other like that? Since when did they have pet names?

They’re just friends, he repeated to himself. But at the same time, he was hearing—

‘Now that she has you, let’s see how long it lasts.’

“Simón?”

His gaze snapped back to Ámbar.

“Yes?”

“You seemed kind of out of it for a second,” she told him.

He shook his head and tried to smile. “It’s nothing.” They’re just friends, they’re just friends.

Ámbar held the gift bag with both hands and Simón hated the way she seemed to handle it with care. Right as she started saying something, another voice called out for him.

“Simón!”

Simón turned to his left as Pedro rapidly came to his side, holding a tray with drinks on one hand and a note on the other. He had a rug on top of one of his shoulders and he seemed a little agitated.

“I’m sorry, could you make the orders for table three?” He asked. “I have my hands full.”

Simón felt a jab of guilt. Of course; it was probably lunchtime by now. Customers always went up at that time of the day, it was the reason why they usually took breaks after those hours. Simón should’ve been minding the clock, he should’ve been tuned in to that, Pedro shouldn’t have even had to ask.

“Yes, of course,” he replied immediately, receiving the piece of paper from him with the orders written down.

Pedro turned back to deliver the drinks while Simón quickly left the guitar in the stand on top of the stage and went behind the bar. He didn’t even look at Ámbar, feeling ashamed. The first thing she had seen after hours of being gone was him playing the guitar while he was supposed to be working and Pedro practically begging him to help out.

So he was not only a lousy boyfriend but a lousy employee as well. Great. Just great.

“Wait, could you take five minutes?” Ámbar told him. “I wanted to—”

“No, I’m sorry, I took enough minutes already,” he told her as his hands moved through ingredients. “I gotta help Pedro.”

To be honest, he feared whatever she might say at that moment. He didn’t want to hear it. The one thing he wanted right then was to stop feeling like a complete failure.

“Okay…” Ámbar said slowly. “Okay, sure. I’ll just grab my folder and I’ll let you work.”

She walked behind the bar and ducked to pull out her big green folder from under it. As she turned to leave, Simón felt the urge to grab her and tell her he’d give her as many minutes as she wanted. As many gifts as she could ever wish for.

He didn’t.

As he continued working, the voice inside his head calling him ‘loser’ didn’t even sound like Benicio anymore. It sounded like himself.

...

------------------------------

Y’all think that Ámbar is the human embodiment of ‘conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know’, but I actually think that Simón is as Elsa as Ámbar and I’m gonna prove it. Consider this chapter the prologue of my thesis: “Simón has been through shit too, he just smiles too much for you to see it.” Also, consider that thesis the part one of a trilogy called “No one deserves Simón and that is a FACT.”

Also, did anyone ask for more Rambar? Well, here you go, fresh out of the oven.

Hope you liked this and Part 2 should be done in about two weeks.

#simbar #simbar fanfic #simbar fic #simbar fanfiction #soy luna fanfiction #My Writing #roads that cross

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