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peachhcs · 27 days

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seven minutes in heaven | the wonder years

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

the one where samy and will do something that friends would definitely 100% do (never) — taken place at the end of samy’s junior year of hs

1.2k words

i’m having a small writers block trying to write requests so i produced this trying to get out of it and i think it’s actually so hilarious because samy 100% believes friends would do this and it’s the way they never talk about it ever again

au masterlist

APRIL 2022

in reality, the idea was slightly stupid and were they all too old for the game? yes. did drew and ryan insist anyway? yes. samy's friends were all for it, so the group sat themselves in a circle going around playing the simple game of truth or dare.

aram and a few others really wanted to meet samy's friends and samy's friends really wanted to meet her "hot guy friends" (their words), so the brunette decided to host a friday get together on a night the boys didn't have a game nor saturday morning practice—what a blessing, truly. someone threw in the childhood truth or dare game and no one really objected.

“marcie, go. truth or dare,” drew’s lips turned into a smirk while the girl flushed.

“truth.”

“who’d you kiss in this room?” a few hoots came from the group worsening marcie’s flush into a red blush.

her eyes flicked across the group scattered around the living room while everyone waited in slight anticipation for her answer—the boys especially. her lips curved at the corners before finally pausing on gabe.

“perreault,” the girl bravely and confidently answered.

the guys were immediately on gabe’s back where he covered his face probably hiding his blush. samy and her other friends grinned in marcie’s direction knowing how much she’s talked about the dark-haired boy at any chance she got.

“okay, okay. my turn,” the girl’s eyes scanned the group again, her soft smile turning into a smirk.

when her gaze landed on samy the brunette immediately knew she was in for trouble. her friends knew everything, things the guys didn’t even know and they never held mercy when they did these types of things.

“samantha hughes,” marcie pulled out the full government name.

“oh great. dare, i guess,” she knew either was bad coming from marcie, so she picked dare hoping it’d be something stupid for once.

for a second, marcie’s eyes met her other friends’ lingering gazes. the others shared an exchange no one but them understood until marcie’s gaze flicked back to samy looking incredibly mischievous.

“i dare you to play seven minutes in heaven with william smith.”

a beat of silence passed through the group until the guys broke out in more hollers grabbing ahold of will’s shoulders. samy’s face paled as she took in her friend’s words.

“really mar?” the brunette mumbled.

“what? you don’t like him so it shouldn’t be a big deal,” the girl shrugged simply.

samy’s friends were also extreme shippers of the two. they never believed it when either of them said there were no feelings, so they liked to poke fun in an attempt to prove that there were feelings.

knowing they weren’t getting out of this one, will followed samy to bathroom. the girl leaned herself against the wall while will stood across from her against the bathroom sink. once the door shut, the two shared a heartfelt laugh.

“they’re never gonna give it up, i swear,” the brunette shook her head.

“how did it even start?” will shared her sentiments.

“marcie and lila have always been like that. the guys poked fun at us as soon as they met me,” samy giggled thinking back to last august.

“they’re the most annoying people ever,” the boy shook his head.

“tell me about it. i can’t believe there’s another whole year of that.”

the two grinned before settling into another comfortable silence. they could hear their friends snickering from the living room most likely talking about them. listening to them laugh made something almost snap in the girl’s head.

she knew they’d never shut up about it. what if they gave them something to shut up about? the teasing never bothered either of them too hard, but boy, would samy love to quiet them and prove that her and will would always be friends no matter what.

“you know what? let’s just do it. let’s just kiss,” samy suddenly said catching will off guard,

“what?”

“they’re never gonna shut up so what if we just kiss and prove to them that we can do this and have it not even mean a thing. like what if we die tomorrow and we spent our last night being cowards in the bathroom because of our friends?” samy rambled maybe because of nerves or maybe because of something else.

“you wanna kiss me?” will asked just to make sure he was hearing things right. he adam’s apple bombed violently when he swallowed.

“yes?” she said it almost unsurely.

“it won’t mean anything?” the blonde raised his eyebrow.

“no, no. just to shut them up, you know. friends kiss each other all the time anyway,” the youngest hughes rambled again.

will was already licking his lips as his gaze zeroed in on samy’s lips and everything in the next minute happened way too quickly. one or both of them closed the space and their lips were on each other a second later like it was natural. neither of them could imagine this ever happening in all the years they’ve been friends, yet here they were making out in samy’s childhood home that will also grew up in on breaks, long weekends, and summers.

the blonde quickly shifted his hands down to samy’s hips wanting to pull her closer—getting lost in the moment. their breaths mixed together along with saliva and wet-swollen lips. the scene was such a stark contrast to their friendship and something deep within them never wanted the moment to stop.

three knocks on the door quickly broke the two apart like they just got caught. nearly five feet formed between them as the realization of what just occurred started setting in. the only sound was their slight pants trying to regain the breath they lost.

“yeah, they’re definitely gonna shut up,” samy nodded approvingly while straightening herself out.

will didn’t say much still reeling in the fact he just made out with his best friend. the blush on his cheeks and the lip gloss stained across his lips was definitely only going to prove their friends’ points.

they walked back into the living room with every single eye on them trying to figure out if anything happened. gabe knew right away when he saw his friend’s slightly disheveled state.

“oh my god. you guys actually kissed,” he mumbled earning a gasp from almost everyone in the room.

“you’re lying!” marcie exclaimed and shot her gaze towards samy.

“like it meant anything. now you guys can shut up about will and i all the time because we’re just friends,” samy argued her case that definitely didn’t believe anyone.

“you’re telling me you just kissed will and it means nothing to either of you?” ryan asked in disbelief.

“yup,” the girl nodded.

“mhm,” will mumbled quietly.

no one said anything because what was there to say after that? will’s sudden quietness and lingering blush told them all they needed to know that maybe it did mean something to one of them at least.

“my turn now. ryan, truth or dare.”

samy and will didn’t talk about it ever again nor did any of their friends, except the teasing hardly died down and will actually didn’t stop thinking about that kiss for the entire rest of the summer.

#hughes!sister x will smith au #will smith hockey #samy x will #boston college #boston college hockey #samy hughes #umich hockey #will smith imagine #will smith x oc #uofmichigan #will smith hockey fluff #will smith fluff #bc hockey #ryan leonard #drew fortescue #jacob fowler #gabe perreault #aram minnietian #umich soccer

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youcouldmakealife · 5 months

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LBTE: Jared (134-135)

The end of an era.

If you want to follow along, the series page is here.

134. Concession

Jared’s dad fixes the wall, sends Jared a picture, pristine again, like nothing happened.

Don has already had a really sour taste in his mouth due to the way Bryce is getting talked about in Calgary, but this is a bit of a turning point in his relationship with Bryce and also starting to distance himself from Flames fandom.

Nothing really changes — Bryce breaks out of the slump for a bit, and the media backs up one step, and then he slumps again and they sprint forward five, breathing down the back of his neck. Jared needs to stop reading the articles, they leave him furious and blurry-eyed, half anger half helplessness, but he can’t stop doing it, picking at it like a scab. He knows Bryce is reading them too. He tells Bryce not to. Bryce says he knows he shouldn’t. They both keep reading them.

Objectively great advice that’s not hard to follow when you don’t actually need said advice, and impossible to follow when you do.

She returns with a violently blue beverage that Jared eyes very suspiciously, before he sips it. It tastes kind of like blue Gatorade, which is a terrific find. She follows it up with a violently purple one that tastes like grape popsicles, and then a violently red one that tastes like a jolly rancher. Jared is incredibly impressed.

Blue Lagoon, Alexander the Grape, Killer Koolaid.

“We find you Gabe and Stephen,” Dmitry says.

“Stephen’s mean,” Jared says.

Jared without a filter is something else.

“Come on,” Dmitry says, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, and Jared’s too unsteady to shrug it off, just meekly lets Dmitry guide him to a back corner, where Stephen’s sipping a glass of wine and reading emails, probably work ones. Gabe always complains he never turns off work mode, but considering how all-consuming pro hockey careers are, he probably doesn’t have much of a leg to stand on.

“Your boy,” Dmitry says, and drops Jared unceremoniously into the chair across from Stephen.

“What did you do to him,” Stephen says, but Dmitry just laughs and walks away. “What did he do to you?”

Stephen’s trying to get some work done and then suddenly he has a sad kid on his hands.

“I miss Bryce,” Jared says. Quietly, so Stephen’s the only one who’ll hear him. He’s drunk, but not that drunk.

“Oh here it is,” Stephen says, putting his phone away.

But he’s been waiting for it, honestly. And not just tonight. We’re now in month four of Bryce’s stretch of bad luck.

“And he’s not playing well,” Jared says.

“No,” Stephen says.

“And the media’s so fucking awful to him,” Jared says.

“They are,” Stephen says.

“I just want to help him,” Jared says helplessly. “I just want to help him and I can’t and I feel useless.”

Stephen looks him in the eye. “Did you let Oksana give you drinks,” he says.

Stephen has some prior experience with this situation.

“Okay,” Stephen says. “Rule one: never let Oksana give you drinks.”

“It’s too late,” Jared says. “I’ve drunk them. They’re drunken.”

A lil bit of Joey Munroe sneaking into Jared here. I blame the drinks.

“Drink some water. Call your husband, tell him a bunch of mushy shit about how much you love and miss him. Maybe don’t mention the not playing well part. Then go to bed.”

Good advice, delivered with greasy food and a ride home. Stephen’s getting soft.

“Okay,” Jared says. He drinks some water, calls Bryce, who is amused by Jared’s Oksana-induced inebriation, and says some truly mushy shit he probably wouldn’t say if he wasn’t drunk. Bryce says some truly mushy shit back, even though he is not drunk, but that’s okay. Jared is drunk enough to endure hearing it.

Bryce does not need an excuse to say mushy shit, just an opportunity.

Elaine’s going to be staying with his parents — they insisted, which is hilarious —

Jared continues to be amused and bemused by how much his parents love Elaine, like he, the child of the two of them, doesn’t also love Elaine.

The media’s backed off just a bit, though it’s in a barbed way

You ever read a piece on the Certified Toronto Maple Leaf Whipping Boy of the day when they’re doing too well to whip? Boy does the media get catty when they can’t use the claws.

Bryce has been playing well, but he’s been playing well for himself; he’s checked out of the team part of it, goes to pregame for Game One with this determined look like it’s his job and he’s going to do it, and he’s going to do it well, but it’s, well — a job.

Bryce is pretty much putting Xs on his calendar at this point.

Jared watches Game One at his parents’, sitting between his mom and Erin. His dad’s at the game with Elaine, which Jared is not salty about.

I’m just glad Elaine has someone to watch with. She appreciates it.

Erin, in Jared’s Oilers jersey — she’s so petty, god —

This isn’t even pot to kettle, this is pot to pot.

Jared isn’t so pleased about the goal that he neglects to mock the shit out of Erin for the squeaky little noise of joy she made when it went in.

“Mom,” Erin whines.

“Like a little mouse,” mom says.

“Mom!” Erin says.

“A squeaky little mouse,” Jared agrees.

It’s REAL cute.

“Ugh, I know,” Erin says, and slumps back in her seat. “I hate being personally invested in this. Why do I have to care about this? Why is this a thing I now care about?”

Me, 14 years ago, after enduring hundreds of hours in arenas watching my brother play, and considering myself immune.

“You’re going to sign a multi-million dollar contract this summer,” Erin says. “Whereas I am but a poor peasant university student, who would like to celebrate the win of my brother-in-law at a public house with my fellow scholars. But alas, I am insolvent. Woe betides me.”

Jared rolls his eyes and gives her fifty for the drama. “You used ‘woe betides’ wrong, I’m pretty sure.”

“Yeah but I’m pretty sure it earned me an extra thirty bucks,” Erin says

She is not wrong.

hops out of the car in her stupid Matheson jersey, which Jared is far more concerned about than her out drinking.

“Take the Oilers jersey off before you go out!” Jared says.

Erin waves a dismissive hand and shuts the door.

Jared rolls his window down. “Don’t drink any violently flavoured drinks!”

Jared’s concerns here are hilarious out of context but both based on relevant prior experience.

“I’ll get you a new ice pack,” Jared says, but he’s hindered by Bryce wrapping his arms around him and becoming pure dead weight.

“Just,” Bryce says. “Stop.”

This is what Bryce needs more than anything right now. Unfortunately only something he can get a night at a time

135. Eulogy

I didn’t exactly leave you all in suspense about how this part was going to go, did I?

Bryce keeps up the hot streak, but Jared can’t enjoy it. He swears, it’s like the better Bryce plays, the further away he seems. When he’s home, he’s home, he’s Bryce, goofy and earnest and sweet, but the second play comes up there’s a wall that comes up around him.

It’s not so much that Bryce is keeping his play from Jared, blocking Jared out, more that he’s keeping Jared away from his career, like some kind of movie cliche, ‘can’t let him know I’m an assassin’ or something dumb like that. Jared points it out, because obviously he does, and Bryce apologises, because obviously he does, but it doesn’t change. Every game, rinse and repeat.

Bryce is pretty hardcore compartmentalizing Jared from his career right then. Jared is Good. Hockey right now is Bad. Bryce doesn’t want Jared anywhere near the bad shit at that moment. He totally gets Jared’s frustration, and he means it when he apologises and says he’ll talk to him going forward, but it’s never something he’s in the mood to talk about, right then, especially when being around Jared is one of the only bright spots in his life right then.

Jared’s worried. Jared’s been concerned for awhile, but it’s been upgraded. He’s worried.

Jared at seventeen, eighteen, maybe even nineteen would be angry instead of worried. Bryce’s growth is a lot more pronounced, but Jared’s done plenty himself, particularly in his relationship.

They take it in Colorado, and Bryce comes home in the middle of the night, a little tipsy from victory drinks on the plane, but not like — victorious. Not like he would have been in other years. Happy, sort of. Happy, Jared guesses.

Not really happy, probably.

I honestly just really like this diminishing level of happiness, all chock full of qualifiers from the get go.

And that’s before Brandon Simcoe scores six points in two games against a stunned still Flames team, scoring goals every fucking time he isn’t slamming Bryce into the boards, or drawing Bryce’s temper out and getting him sent to the box.

Look, the name Shithead wasn't like calling a big dude Tiny. I've grown to love him dearly, but it's a little despite myself, because he's a total shithead.

The previously stellar goaltending’s fallen apart. The D looks frozen out there. The Scouts’ power-play is on fire, and the Flames are giving them no shortage of opportunities, taking weak calls in their desperation to try to turn the tide.

But of course the media’s talking about Bryce’s penalties, talking about how his name isn’t on the scoresheet.

If you’re a star player, and your offence dries up in the postseason, this happens 100% of the time. D? Never heard of her.

There’s no fire, no ‘we’ll come back from this’, no ‘fuck those guys, we have them’. Bryce comes home, and he unpacks, and he doesn’t talk about the games, doesn’t want to talk about the games, so they don’t talk about the games, and then the Scouts come to town.

Everything about this is already completely defeated on both their parts.

Mutes it about five minutes in and doesn’t turn the sound back on all game.

Game ever stress you out so bad the commentators are nails on a chalkboard? (That’s literally just Sportsnet commentators, with the exception of John Shorthouse. Best in the biz. Still think his muted ‘and play continues’ after the refs miss a call is the pinnacle of another huge Canadian sport: passive-aggression.)

Simcoe has a two point night. So does Williams. Half the Scouts roster seems to have gotten a point in this mess.

Genuinely fascinating to write these series from two sides. Really brings home that somebody’s elation must involve someone else’s heartbreak. Can’t win without a loser.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Bryce says, and he just had one, hair still damp from it, but Jared gets that it’s different, perfunctory post-game shower to wash the sweat off versus letting himself unknot under the hot water.

The water’s still running a half hour later, and Jared knocks. “You good babe?”

Bryce has been having a whole ass breakdown in there, so not so much.

“Jared, I love you,” Bryce says, barely audible over the water. “But can you please fuck off right now.”

This possibly could have been phrased better but also absolutely could not have been, considering his mental place at the moment. Physically: standing in the shower. Mentally: in fetal position.

The water shuts off not long after that, and when Bryce doesn’t come into the living room Jared figures he’s holed up in theirs. Jared blindly flicks through channels, feeling adrift. It’s sort of the same feeling he had in Vancouver, Bryce a thousand kilometres away and Jared unable to do anything for him, but it’s worse in a way, Bryce just down the hall and Jared still unsure what he can do, knowing he can’t fix it, that this isn’t the sort of thing that’s like ‘hey I love you so that makes it all better, right?’. It doesn’t.

Jared’s least favourite state has to be helplessness (close second: ignorance), and he really is helpless here.

The door to their room’s ajar when Jared goes to the bathroom, a tentative invitation, and when Jared peeks his head in Bryce, curled up in bed, gives him a weak smile that Jared thinks counts as one too.

Bryce is now physically as well as mentally in the fetal position. But feeling slightly better nonetheless.

He kisses Bryce’s temple, where his hair’s drying in the loose wave it gets when Bryce doesn’t bother to style it, Jared always a little in love with it just because of its rarity.

Every chink in Bryce’s armour is Jared’s favourite thing.

“Where do you want to go?” Jared asks.

“I don’t know,” Bryce mumbles. “I want Vancouver not to be impossible.”

I knew where he was going at this point, but he and Dave had not concocted their plan yet.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” Bryce whispers, and there’s nothing Jared can say to that, so he just kisses his temple again, runs his fingers through Bryce’s hair, stays there with him as Bryce breathes, quick and unsteady, stays there with him until it slows, evening out, stays a little longer after that.

He’s so tired and he’s so burnt out and every atom of him wants to quit, but he can’t. Or, sure, he could, if he wanted to blow up his career. A player refusing to report to training camp is enough to break a contract — during the postseason?

Jared watches Game Four with the TV muted again, not that the Saddledome is any louder. Solemn as church, dad described it last game. Today it’s probably solemn as a funeral, because that’s exactly what it is.

Jared can be absolutely vicious with a turn of phrase sometimes.

“Tell me I don’t have to do media tomorrow,” Bryce says.

Jared sighs and sits beside him.

“Just — I know it’s a lie,” Bryce says. “Just tell me it anyway.”

“You don’t have to do media tomorrow,” Jared lies. He does. It’d be a poison pill to any trade if he didn’t, would simultaneously put the final nail in the coffin of his relationship with the Flames and depreciate his trade value to the point they wouldn’t want to ship him out. He has to do media.

Bryce stares up at the ceiling. He knows all this. Jared knows he knows all that.

Oh my darlings.

Bryce is crying, this silent thing, just tears trickling out of the corners of his eyes like he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it.

He’s so fucking tired.

“I love this city so much,” Bryce says. “But it didn’t do a single fucking thing to earn it except give me you.”

Almost every single one of the best moments of his life took place in Calgary. He met Jared in Calgary. He proposed to Jared in Calgary. He got married to him right outside of it. It’s inextricable from Jared for him, so he loves it. But it’s also the place that ground him down. And not just once.

“Tell me I don’t have to do media,” Bryce says.

“You know you do, B,” Jared murmurs, and pulls Bryce in, arms around his shaking shoulders, when he starts to cry in earnest.

Bryce crying continuing to make me tear up at minimum every fucking time. The most I have ever related to Jared was when he said every time Bryce cried he wants to cry, and honestly, I relate to Jared too much as it is. Can't write hobgoblins without at least a little gremlin in you.

#liveblogging the end

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therealdisneyfan2319 · 1 year

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Cake | Wanda Maximoff

Summary: Wanda surprises you with a cake after a long overdue promotion at work

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 759

Masterlist

“Umm, watchya doin’ there hon?” you asked. The kitchen was in absolute shambles. Mixing bowls and spoons were scattered all over. Batter and flour were plastered on the counters, the walls, the floor, and Wanda’s face. She looked completely overwhelmed, her red hair messily falling out of the bun tied on top of her head.

She sighed as she leaned up against the sink, running a flour-covered hand through her hair and speckling it white. “Well, I was attempting to make you a cake to celebrate your new job offer, but I think things got out of hand,” she explained as she looked around to examine the damage done to their kitchen.

“You know, I think this is what Agatha meant when she was talking about chaos magic,” you teased, picking up a whisk from the floor. As you stood up, something hit the side of your face: it was flour. As you looked at your white hand, Wanda giggled. She had a mixing bowl in her hand, the remnants of her magic creating a red glow over the bowl.

“Oh you’re gonna get it now,” you said, placing the whisk on the island. You quickly scanned the room for the nearest flour-laden object, which was the flour sack itself. Wanda screamed as you lunged toward the open bag.

“Don’t you DARE!” she shrieked as you grabbed a fistful of flour.

“All’s fair in love and war,” you taunted, chasing her around the island.

“Y/N I swear don’t even think-” She was abruptly cut off as flour hit her square in the face. She froze in place, eyes shut as she sputtered flour out of her mouth and nose. It was a sight to see, Wanda standing there, already disheveled, but now with flour all over her face. You couldn’t help but laugh. It was absolutely hilarious.

“Stop it! It’s not that funny!” she whined. You were laughing so hard you could barely breathe as you bent over with your hands on your knees. “I’m serious!”

You kept laughing as you looked at her. She could say she was angry all she wanted, but you could tell she was resenting the smile that was slowly creeping up her lips. Her smile quickly turned into a smirk. Before you realized what she was doing, you saw her turn her wrist and felt the entire bag of flour dump on your head.

Now it was her turn to laugh as you stood there wiping flour out of your eyes. “Okay, I probably deserved that,” you admitted, brushing the flour out of your hair.

“Yeah you did,” she laughed.

“You know what? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. And to show you how sorry I am I’m going to give you a BIG hug!” You extended your arms out wide as you walked towards her.

Wanda’s eyes grew wide with fear. “Oh nonononono, don’t you do it, mister.” When she saw you were serious she turned and ran into the dining room, but you were too fast for her. She squealed as you wrapped your arms around her midsection and lifted her up. “Put me down!” she squealed. You obliged, lowering her until her feet touched the ground. But your grip around her middle didn’t loosen that much. Just enough for her to turn around and face you.

“You’ve got a little something on your face,” you pointed out.

“Where?” she asked, raising a hand to her cheek.

“Here I’ve got it,” you said as you leaned in to kiss her. She brought her hands up and wrapped them around your neck.

“Did you get it?” she asked as you broke the kiss.

“Nope, let me try again.” She giggled as you leaned back in to kiss her lips again.

This time it was Wanda who broke the kiss. “I’m sorry about the cake,” she apologized.

“That’s okay,” you replied. “But next time, I’m okay with one of those ice cream whale ones.”

“Wanna go to the store and get one?” she asked.

“You serious?” You raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Mmhmm.”

“Like I can get my own whale cake? With the crunchies and everything?!”

“Why not? We’re celebrating!”

“Come on woman! We’re burning daylight!” You pushed her out of the way and grabbed the keys from the table, bolting to the car flour and all.

Wanda laughed as you trailed flour across the floor. You might be a pain sometimes, but you were her pain, ice cream cake loving and flour throwing and all. And she loved you for it.

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sincericida · 4 days

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About this grifter witch. Let’s not insult trans people by comparing her to them when there are so many legitimate reasons to drag this woman for reasons she actually deserves.

1. She spouts ‘feminism’ ideals and says terrible things online about a strong and powerful feminist (Taylor Swift). What a hypocrite.

2. She is clearly a wack a do con artist with a poorly written website that only a sycophant would believe. I’m sorry, but cons like this SHOULD be outed for the miscreants they are to prevent them from continuing to prey on the weak.

3. She sells ‘magic talismans’ online for an exorbitant cost and I’m sure if we were motivated we could find the same charms she uses on Amazon for $5 a piece. I don’t even WANT to know where or how she claims to ‘bless’ them, but I’m sure they smell fishy afterward. Kendra Scott, she is NOT.

4. What about the absolute tantrums she has online when someone calls her out on her BS? Deep down, she knows she’s a con and her attitude is downright HILARIOUS. Now that she is getting her 15 minutes and it’s not as magical as she probably thought she manifested, this is objectively funny.

5. If she really is separating Andrew from his close friends and family… well abusers should NEVER be tolerated or put on a pedestal.

Honestly, I don’t care who Andrew Garfield (or any celebrity) dates. But this poor man is a lost soul and I truly feel sad for him.

Let's go

That's it anon, no one should be using trans people as a joke or insult in this situation and in no other. As for the nature of the luxury witch and its questionable business activities, the more I see, the more I scare. Incidentally, about these questionable commercial activities involving "magic", I think that hardly is not happening cultural appropriation in this.

I don’t think Taylor Swift is a great feminist exponent. But once you call yourself a feminist - as the grifter calls herself, you shouldn’t go around attacking women online for no reason, whether they’re feminist icons or not.

Yes, the tantrums in the videos are a symptom that the 15 minutes of fame she’s gotten aren’t coming out as she imagined, Since she’s relating to someone famous and very dear, and that would theoretically make her life easier and maybe she was sure that fame and popularity would come in that situation. I also realized that there’s no way she wants to be questioned.

To provoke a person’s separation from his loved ones and friends of many years, is a very, very bad symptom.

As I have said in other answers to questions on this subject, I hope that at some point he will be able to see the situation objectively and jump out of this pierced canoe. We can do nothing but wish the best for him. For the rest, time is the lord of all things.

#ask box #my thoughts #andrew garfield #kate tomas #luxury witch #grifter #ask anon #ask response

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phdmama · 1 year

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Tbh I’m still recovering from the tsunami episodes so I haven’t watched more, but I was wondering if you have any Buddie fic refs? I’m sure there’s a lot of episode-specific ones so I want to avoid spoilers. But maybe AU’s?

Hellooooo FRIEND!!

Sure I can give you some fic recs - there are definitely some fantastic writers in this fandom! [This is not at all about the quality of fic, but I've found a lot of it trends towards spec/extension fic and very fluffy/T, which is less of what I'm personally looking for from fic, so I'm not sure how many of these I'll have but I know there are some!]

Not to toot my own horn but I'm going to anyway - I wrote my first Buddie fic recently! I don't think.... it has spoilers? Not big ones?

That's What Friends Are For (E, ~4200 words)

Eddie shows up an hour later. He’s clearly gone home and showered, as his hair is damp. He’s wearing sweats and a t-shirt that Buck is pretty sure is his, and he smells of soap and bacon. No, wait, the bacon scent is coming from the bag of takeout containers he’s carrying in one hand. Buck’s eyes narrow at the sight of the object Eddie’s clutching in his other hand.

“Tequila?” he asks, raising one eyebrow and then laughs when Eddie just makes a bitchy face back at him. “I mean, I’m in, obviously, but it’s like nine in the morning.”

Okay as I was trying to find some recs for you, I realized, a lot of these have spoilers (not the ones I've linked to I DO NOT THINK) - so these are going to be more in the AU realm. @fraddit do you want to weigh in as well?

Leading with the Left (E, ~84K) by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

When Buck said he was a "bartender" in "South America" what he actually meant was "stripper" in "Mexico."

And when Eddie said, "What's your problem?" what he actually meant was, "Is this about the time you gave me a lap dance?"

In other words, there's a few things the 118 doesn't know about Buck. Or Eddie. Or Buck and Eddie's relationship.

Awesome writer, fantastic fic!

I Hit the Accelerator (But the Car was in Reverse) ($, ~68K) by @extasiswings and letmetellyouaboutmyfeels.

When Buck is forced to confront the truth about his breakup with Abby, having casual sex with his hot new coworker seems like the best rebound idea.

Unfortunately, that hot new coworker turns into his best friend. But best friends can keep having sex with each other, right?

There's no way this could possibly go wrong.

Both fantastic writers and this one is fun!

to your front door (G, ~3K) by @henwilsons

Pepa’s been eyeing him all evening, so it shouldn’t be a surprise when she says, “Why aren’t you dating Eddie?”

And yet Buck still nearly veers the car straight off the road.

I know I said I'm not usually one for spec fic but this is hilarious! Another writer I'll probably follow most places to be honest.

Weep, and call it singing (G, ~1200 words) by my amazing @xanthippe74

The apartment feels as hollow as an empty nautilus shell.

Buck’s going to come home again, Eddie tells himself. There’ll be more dinners around the big table, more game nights—well, assuming Buck ever gets around to buying a new couch. Buck will bustle around the kitchen, his and Chris’ laughter will fill the echoing space, and Eddie—

Eddie will never, ever take any of it for granted again.

On the third day of Buck's medically-induced coma, Eddie visits his apartment.

This is fuckING BEAUTIFUL AND PAINFUL BUT ALSO GORGEOUS (unsurprising because this author is amazing)

Ruin Me Like Castle Walls and Burn Me Like a Village (E, ~4200 words) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels [just go peruse their entire catalog honestly]

When a call goes wrong, Buck sees a new side to Eddie, and starts to realize a lot of things about his best friend.

And himself.

Okay so. This is not... my usual vibe but this fic has literally the best tags I've ever seen that make me laugh so hard, and that I think of REGULARLY (as like, a life's motto) and... yeah Worth it.

Okay there's a few to start!! I know there are a bunch I've loved, If you want me to go through my AO3 history for more recs, I am happy to do so!! xox

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screechthemighty · 1 year

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Hello, People Who Read My Resident Evil Fanfics, I'm back!!!! (May be back even more over the next few months, tbh. I don't want to make any promises, but Dracula Daily is hyperfixation-adjacent and getting back into RE4 Remake is up next on my content roster, so who knows?) AO3 link will be in a reblog, but here's the next chapter of catch me floating circles in my fish bowl!

catch me floating circles in my fish bowl - part three:

May 2, 2021:

“Zoe’s fine. She’s shopping at the grocery store like normal, at least.” Carlos showed him a picture on his phone. It took Ethan a second to recognize her. Her hair was all white, and she looked less desperately thin than he remembered. She was buying chips and standing next to a brick wall of a man with a serious case of resting bitch face. He looked familiar, but not quite familiar.

“Joe Baker?” Ethan guessed. “Glad to see she’s still got some family left.” Especially family like Joe Baker. If Chris was right, the guy had punched his way through the site to get to Zoe. He’s probably the only person in this mess more unhinged than I am. And he meant that as a compliment. “Thank you again for this. I know it’s probably paranoid, but with everything going on…”

How was he to know that the BSAA hadn’t gone after her? She could be just as valuable a resource as Ethan.

Speaking of…

“Still nothing from the BSAA?”

“Not that I’ve heard. I feel like that’s not gonna change until you leave. They don’t have a cause to investigate Blue openly and I don’t think they’d suspect Chris of bringing you here, so…” Carlos shrugged. “They’re probably keeping a closer eye on Terra Save. You have physical therapy today?”

Ethan’s mood soured instantly. “No,” he admitted. “I mean, I was supposed to, but I fell last time and they’re worried I fucked up my ankle, so we didn’t do much.” He hoped he didn’t look too petulant. “I know, if I hurt myself it could slow my healing down, I need to be careful…”

“Don’t forget it’s a miracle you’re walking at all,” Carlos pointed out. “You should still be bedridden.”

“Technically, I should be dead, but I get your point. Still, it’s just…”

Frustrating. It was all so damn frustrating. His self-appointed deadline was this month. He didn’t need to run a marathon or anything. He just wanted to walk on his own. Any patience he might’ve had for his body and its shortcomings had gone out the window now that the novelty of being alive had worn off.

“...to be clear, I’m asked this as a concerned friend, not as the guy responsible for you, but…they’ve got you seeing a therapist, right?” Carlos said. “Like…for your brain.”

“Yeah, they have,” Ethan said. “We’re still working on Dulvey. Turns out, almost being murdered under extreme bullshit circumstances is even more traumatic than just almost being murdered. Who would’ve thought?”

Carlos wince-laughed in a way that said he knew exactly what Ethan meant. “At least your guy has probably heard it all by now,” he said. “We didn’t have that when I was going.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think the chainsaw scissors threw him off.”

“...the fucking what?”

Ethan probably shouldn’t have found that funny, but honestly? It was a little hilarious that he could one-up Carlos in the weirdness department.

Just a little.

Mia had been avoiding her therapist.

She knew, objectively, that avoiding her therapist probably looked worse than anything she could have actually said in therapy. She knew that whatever she said would stay in that room, that even her criminal past was safe to talk about. She knew this could be helpful, that it might let her sort out her thought spirals and fears and her increasing discomfort with being around Ethan.

But she couldn’t bring herself to go. Going meant actually admitting to everything–to all these dark thoughts, to all the shit she’d done. The thought of saying it out loud and having another person hear made her physically sick.

But she couldn’t stay away forever, so she finally went, with the intention of appearing as put-together and fine as possible.

She failed within five minutes.

“So, you’re concerned that Ethan is pushing himself too hard,” her therapist said. Doctor Reid was a no-nonsense sort of woman, the kind who cut right to the chase. It probably made her a great therapist, but these days, it mostly made Mia want to kill her.

“Ethan’s…” Mia tried to think of how best to phrase it. “...selfless to a fault. I don’t want him thinking about me right now. He should be focused on himself.”

Dr. Reid nodded and wrote something down. “Am I correct in assuming you’ve had this argument before?”

Mia tried to stay calm. It was difficult when visions of every argument they had since Mia learned she was pregnant started dancing through her mind.

We matter, Ethan! You matter! He’d been so caught up in protecting Rose, even before she was born. She’d known the lengths Ethan had gone to protect her. Known that he would go just as far for Rose, if not further. It was part of the reason she’d been so afraid to tell him what the mold had done to them. If he’d come to the same conclusions they had–that the BSAA had been deliberately negligent to unknown ends–who knew what he might have done?

The sound of pen against paper drew her out of her racing thoughts. Dr. Reid must have taken her silence as an answer. “Have you discussed this with him at all?”

Mia forced her voice to stay flat. “I’ve told him it’s okay to recover at his own pace,” she said. “He knows that we’re safe.”

“Maybe, but there’s more to the conversation than that, I think.” Dr. Reid put her pen down. “Are you frightened of what your husband might do?”

Damn this woman. “Why would I be? He protects us.”

“And he nearly died doing so, twice. That’s difficult to discuss. Objectively, he’s not wrong. Protecting those you care about is noble. But the survivor’s guilt you would’ve felt…” She picked back up her pen. “...and the guilt I’m sure you feel now are still very real. It could be easy for him to forget that.”

Mia felt her jaw go tense. “It’s not about that.”

“What is it about?’

“It’s my fault…”

Damn it. Damn it. Doctor Reid knew about the Connections, of course she did, but that didn’t mean Mia had to bring it up.

Doctor Reid glanced up. “You blame yourself,” she said finally, “because you think your time with the Connections is the reason Ethan ended up the way he did?”

The plan was not to reply, but Doctor Reid just sat there, waiting for an answer. Screw it. If this woman wanted an answer, she’d get her damn answer.

“I don’t think. I know. If I hadn’t been working for the Connections, I never would’ve ended up in Dulvey and he wouldn’t have had to save me. That’s where he got infected. That’s where the Rose got infected.”

“And if the BSAA had been honest, Ethan would’ve been cured, or his condition would have been managed,” Doctor Reid pointed out. “Maybe if they’d been honest, you two would have chosen not to have children. If Mirand had left you alone, or never learned about you, Ethan wouldn’t have had to save you a second time. Yes, your actions were one of the dominoes, but they were also just that. One of the dominoes. Why do you think you should shoulder all the blame?” Doctor Reid paused. “Why do you think Ethan thinks you should shoulder all the blame?”

“I don’t think that. I…”

She didn’t know. And that was really the worst part. So much of her was convinced that he wouldn’t blame her, which was bad in its own way. But the anxiety, the guilt, had her convinced that he would. There was no version of the story where this ended well.

“If I may,” Doctor Reid said. “You worry about Ethan pushing himself too hard and you worry about him getting into danger again. I assume this worry is compounded by the fact that you blame yourself for everything that’s happened, which in turn makes you feel that you’re not worthy of that protection. These are very strong emotions that are going to impact your interactions with Ethan, especially since you’ve had these disagreements before. Do you think I’m wrong?”

“...no.” It was a miracle it hadn’t impacted things already–or, at least, that it hadn’t in such a strong way that Ethan had noticed and started asking questions.

“Have you tried communicating with him about what’s been bothering you? You said Ethan had been keen to talk in the past. Perhaps if you had some mediation…”

“You offer couple’s counseling, too?”

“Actually, I’d find a third party, but we do have those.”

Of course they did. Nothing like a viral outbreak to put a strain on a marriage, right? Mia nearly burst out laughing at the thought, but managed to keep it together. Barely.

“I’ll think about it,” Mia said.

And she would. She just had a feeling she already knew what her answer was going to be.

May 5, 2021:

“You’ve got to be absolutely shitting me.”

Credit to everyone in the room: they were really doing their best not to laugh, or were treating it just as seriously as Ethan felt. Because he was taking this seriously. Because it was bullshit.

“Everything I’ve been through,” he said, staring down the cold compress on his arm, “all of that bullshit. And I’m still…” The only thing that kept him from swearing was Rose being in the room, staring him down with a slightly concerned look. “...I’m still allergic to bees?!”

“It would seem so, yes,” Doctor Marshall said calmly. “Do you want to hear something reassuring?”

“There’s something reassuring about this situation?”

“Your body is having a normal reaction to the sting. Not an exaggerated one, and it hasn’t triggered anything else in your healing. That’s a good sign.”

Damn it, he had a point. “I guess,” Ethan grumbled. Then, “Bees?!”

Jill finally broke the no-laughing rule with a barely muffled snort. “Sorry…” Her pale blue eyes were lit up with amusement as she tried not to make eye contact. “...no, it sucks, it really does…”

That probably should’ve pissed him off more, but…okay, yeah, it was funny-not-funny now that someone was laughing. Ethan deflated a bit, a bemused sigh escaping past his lips. “Just please don’t tell my wife,” he said. “She worries about me enough as it is. You’re telling her I’m fine, right?”

“I’m giving Mia medically accurate information,” Doctor Marshall said. “Unless you want to withdraw her as your-”

“No, no, it’s…” Great, that just means that either she’s misreading the information Marshall’s giving her or the results are worse than I realized. He wasn’t sure he liked either option. “It’s fine,” Ethan said. He peeked under the cold compress again. “Does the medically accurate information include that this bee sting isn’t gonna kill me?”

Ethan thought he felt a shift in Jill’s mood after that comment. That feeling was confirmed as she wheeled him out. “Everything okay with you two?” she asked. “I don’t want to be nosy, I just know this kind of thing puts a strain on…everything.”

“It’s…” Ethan sighed. “Complicated. Conflicting support needs, I think.” That was what his therapist had said when Ethan tried to describe the disconnect between how they’d handled Dulvey. Ethan wanted to talk. Mia wanted to forget. Neither was wrong, necessarily, but it did contribute to why they’d been butting heads on and off before the village. They hadn’t started couples therapy yet. Ethan wondered sometimes if they should move that up the list.

I basically died on her. That can’t be good for her mental health.

“That’s always tough,” Jill said. She had that tone, the one that said she and Carlos had been through the same thing. That was so weird to think about. They seemed rock solid, the two of them. Then again, they’d been together for a while, and lived through a lot during that time. Nothing like practice to improve your communication skills. “The give and take of it all. You’ve got to be supportive without giving up your own needs.”

“And hers,” Ethan added, tilting his head towards Rose as she grabbed at his coat collar. That was definitely a complicating factor. “I keep trying to tell myself that all couples have these problems, but…they don’t. You can say it’s the same thing, but it’s not.” Maybe that wasn’t fair, maybe he was playing the trauma Olympics, but he’d kill for regular problems. He’d kill for so many of their problems to not be tied up in dumbass crime syndicates and undead werewolves and potentially world-ending bullshit. If he could swap places with the Ethan who’d lost an arm to a car accident, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Zero hesitation.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Jill said. “I think that’s why I was never able to make normal friends. Almost everything feels minor compared to…” She gestured vaguely. “...everything.”

Everything was a pretty good summary of things. And that really summed up how shitty things were for the both of them. “How did you two make it through things?” Ethan asked. “I mean, if you’re okay with sharing.”

“Couples’ therapy,” Jill said without hesitation. “It helped with everything. Even the mundane stuff. And we talk to each other, as much as we can. It used to be a monthly thing when we were active duty. There was a lot happening and we wanted to make sure we had the time.”

That made sense, but it didn’t make Ethan feel any better. How were they supposed to do this when Mia still didn’t want to talk? He couldn’t force her. He’d tried, if he was being honest. It had only made things worse.

How much longer could they just let things stew again?

May 15, 2021:

Apparently, at least another week and a half.

Maybe the mounting anxiety had been a warning.

She’d known from the second she opened her eyes that today was going to test her. Mia hated to blame Ethan, because it wasn’t entirely him. She’d been slipping towards a shitty day for a long time.

But opening her eyes to see Ethan standing upright didn’t help.

“What are you doing?” Mia yelped.

Ethan nearly fell over. Fortunately, he’d been clinging to a chair to support him; it was the only thing that kept him falling down. “Shit!” he yelped back. Then, quietly, “Shh!”

Mia’s gaze darted guiltily to Rose. Fortunately, she was still fast asleep. “What are you doing?!” Mia hissed once she was sure her baby hadn’t woken up.

“I was cold,” Ethan replied. “I wanted a sweater.”

“I could have gotten one for you.”

“You were finally sleeping, I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“What do you -” Mia took a deep breath. “Please sit down. I will get you a sweater.”

Ethan nearly protested. She could see it in the way that his shoulders went tense and his eyes met hers directly. But just as suddenly, he looked away, his shoulders slumping, as he sat down. Crisis averted, she allowed herself to think as she got up to get him a sweater.

That was stupid of her to think. She knew Ethan better than that. She should’ve known. Ethan only stayed quiet for as long as it took to get him the sweater. But once he was holding it…

“I don’t want to do this again,” he said.

Oh, no. “Do…what…?”

“It’s just…” Ethan sighed and rubbed his eyes. His fingers seemed to linger over the scar tissue across his nose. “Back in Europe, it felt like every little thing was an argument. But we never really got at why we were fighting. I don’t want to keep doing that.” He met her eyes again. “It doesn’t feel like you’ve been sleeping well. I haven’t always, either, and sometimes when I wake up in the night or when Rose wakes up, I can hear you…moving around, talking in your sleep. Like how you did after Dulvey. I can walk short distances and you looked peaceful, so I didn’t want to disturb you. You’re dealing with enough without adding sleep deprivation on top of that. I’m worried about you.”

She’d heard those four words so many times. She was starting to get sick of them. “I get that, I do, but you have…” Mia took a deep breath. “You have to start worrying about yourself. Ethan, you died a few months ago. If you get hurt again, if you’d fallen and hit your head…I have enough to worry about without worrying about you doing something stupid, okay?”

She knew, immediately, how harsh she’d sounded. It was starting to remind her too much of the argument they’d had that day in Europe…the one that had nearly been their last argument. Mia rubbed her eyes, hoping that she wasn’t about to start crying. “Please.”

“Okay, okay. No more walking without someone watching me,” Ethan said soothingly. His one hand reached out to rest on her knee. Even with the sweater sleeve covering it, she could vividly see the scar on his forearm. “Stressed about what, honey?”

About the fact that I almost got you killed. That they have to run tests on our daughter and it’s my fault. That you’ll find out the truth and nothing will be the same ever again. That nothing is the same already.

“Don’t do that,” Mia said out loud instead. “Please. You can’t fix everything, Ethan.”

“I’m not…you can talk to me, Mia. I’ll listen. No problem-solving, promise.”

She wasn’t sure she believed him. And even if she did, she couldn’t make herself say the words. “It’s…this whole situation,” she said finally. Not a lie, but nowhere near the truth. “It’s this whole situation.”

She was dodging. From the way Ethan looked at her, he knew she was dodging. She expected him to call her out on it. He always had before. Instead, he just looked sad. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, baby, I know.”

He hugged her carefully. Mia was able to embrace him back, but she hesitated at first, the surge of guilt getting the better of her.

She knew Ethan had felt that, too, but he still didn’t say anything.

If his problems had a face, Ethan would have shot them by now.

He guessed Ethan could say his problems had some physical form: his bones, his muscles, the injuries and scar tissue that had hobbled him, the mold that had merged with his cells and turned him into something not quite human. But he couldn’t exactly punch himself in the face. Multiple BOWs had already done that for him, and look where that had gotten him.

He could still be mad at himself, though. Either his body had betrayed him forever and this was just his life now, or he wasn’t trying hard enough. One of those answers was easier to accept than the other one.

Unfortunately, accepting the latter only made the moment that he ended up face-down on the floor in the middle of PT all the more painful.

“FUCK!” Ethan shouted as he flopped onto his back. He wasn’t bleeding, but he’d hit his face pretty hard. “Son of a bitch!”

“Easy…” His therapist helped him carefully sit upright. Tom was usually a pretty chill guy, and usually had the decency to not visibly worry so much when things went wrong. This time he looked worried. “Did you hit the bar on the way down?”

“I didn’t hit the fucking bar. Shit.” Ethan looked around instinctively. He knew Rose wasn’t there, but he couldn’t help double checking. He tried really hard not to swear in front of her. He was just so…

Ethan carefully touched under his nose, checking for blood. There wasn’t anything that he noticed, but he knew what was coming next. “Let me guess, this is the part where we take a break for the day? We’re done?”

The words came out in a snap. Tom didn’t take it personally; the worst part was, Ethan was so pissed, he only felt a little guilty for being a dick about it. He felt even less guilty when he was informed that this was, in fact, it for the day.

At least he could wheel himself around the facility now. It meant he didn’t have an audience for his frustration.

Ethan probably should’ve gone back to his room and lay down. The session had been draining as it was, and he was kind of sore from that landing. But he went down to the ground level and right out the front door. No one tried to stop him, thank God. They probably figured he couldn’t go very far.

He went further than he had before, right out the front door and out into the parking lot, all the way to the far edge. There was just a field out there, and a barbed-wire topped fence. Somewhere on the other side of that was the rest of the world.

A world that he might never get to be a part of again.

Ethan took a deep breath and screamed. It was wordless at first, but quickly devolved into a rapid-fire barrage of every swear word he knew. They could probably hear him inside, but he didn’t care. What were they gonna do? Force him back inside? Revoke his wheelchair privileges? It wasn’t like his day could get any worse.

Eventually his voice gave out. He sat in silence, just him, the midday sun, and the random cars. The sound of approaching boots broke that silence eventually. Ethan didn’t have to glance over his shoulder to guess who it was. There were only three people he knew who wore boots regularly, and one of them was out of the country again. “I can’t go back in there,” he said dully.

“Wasn’t going to make you,” said Jill. “So, how’s a parking lot for a mental breakdown space? I haven’t tried that one yet.”

Points to her, the comment did get a laugh out of him. It wasn’t the sanest sounding laugh, but it was something. “It’s, uhm…” Ethan tried to wipe some of the tears off his face. “...better than a bathroom, I guess. Air quality’s nicer.”

“Yeah, bathrooms are like a bottom three pick.” She sat down in the grass, in his line of sight but off to the left. Her white-blond hair caught the sunlight, contrasting it more sharply against the black hoodie she was wearing. It looked a few sizes too big–one of Carlos’s, maybe. “You want to talk about it?”

He did. Keeping it bottled up was killing him, and maybe Jill would actually understand what was going on here. But for a long time, the words didn’t come. He just stared down at his one remaining hand. It had been working fine lately–grip strength almost back to normal, no more freezing up at random, sensation much better. Why couldn’t everything go that smoothly? Why did this have to be so hard?

Hadn’t they all been through enough?

“...Mia and I’s anniversary is this month,” he said. “Ten years.”

“Ten years? With two disasters in the middle of that? Shit, that’s not bad.” Jill sounded genuinely impressed. “I’m guessing you wanted to get out of here before that?”

“No, not even that. I can handle being here if we really have to.” They were safe here, at least, and safe was all he could really hope for. “I just…I was just hoping I’d be walking more by then. I wanted her to see that I’m okay. And don’t give me the whole oh, you should be dead, who cares if you’re not walking yet speech. I care. I can’t…” He rubbed at his eyes desperately. “It’s not enough. I thought even a few steps would do it, but I can just feel her pulling away and she’s so focused on being worried about me that she’s not thinking about anything else and I can’t…I can’t see her like that. I can’t live through that again.”

He was bracing himself for more questions; what he got instead was a slightly bitter, huffing laugh. A sound of recognition. “Fuck, yeah. Been there.”

Ethan lifted his head. “Seriously?”

“Chris didn’t tell you? I was MIA presumed dead for three years.”

Chris had definitely not mentioned that. “Chris doesn’t really talk much about his BSAA days. Was this before you left?”

“Yeah. One of my last missions with the old crew, actually. It’s a long story, but Carlos was…” She sighed. “...he kept it together for me. And I appreciated that, I really did, but I knew it wasn’t going to last forever. It was just a matter of when.” She started rubbing her sternum as she spoke. Ethan saw her do that sometimes. “Worst part was, I knew that. I just had no way of knowing what would finally do it. It was just the one time, thank God. We were able to talk about it after that.”

“So what you’re saying is that she might have to break more before we can fix it?”

“No.” Jill hesitated. “I mean, that’s not wrong, but that’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is that what you’re going through isn’t abnormal. I don’t know if I can fix what’s going on with Mia, and I don’t think you can, either. She has to figure that out for herself, like Carlos did. But you know what kept me sane when everything went to shit?” She made direct eye contact with him then. She had such an intense gaze, her pale blue eyes seeming to stare right through Ethan’s skull. “You’ve gotta lower your expectations, man. I know that you want everything back to normal, trust me, I get that, but that went out the window three years ago. I’ve lived it twice. It sucks, every time, but if you try to force it, you’re just going to hurt yourself worse. Physically and mentally.”

Ethan forced his gaze away from her. It was stupid, all things considered, but he didn’t want her to see the tears starting to form in his eyes. “This sucks,” he said finally.

“Yeah, I know. It’s not fair. I wish it were. But you can make it work. It’s possible. And believe me when I say…she’s just happy you’re still here.”

Ethan didn’t doubt that. He just wasn’t always sure it was enough.

Maybe he was wrong about that.

“Mrs. Winters?”

Mia’s head snapped back up. Doctor Marshal was staring at her with a worried look. “Sorry,” she said. She rubbed her eyes. “I just missed that last part…were we talking about skin samples?”

“Yes, but they’re optional, and more for Ethan’s benefit. How is he, by the way?”

Mia wasn’t sure how to answer that. The conversation from that morning was still dancing through her head. The wounded look on Ethan’s face was burned into her eyelids. “He’s…still a little stir-crazy,” she admitted. “Nothing we can’t handle, I don’t think.”

“That’s understandable. How about you? How are you doing?”

Mia wasn’t sure how to answer that. She wasn’t sure she could lie, not when she had zoned out in the middle of the conversation. There was so much going on, so many things she didn’t have a handle on. “...can I ask you something personal?” Mia said finally.

“Go ahead.”

“How did you get past your old job? How do you…ever make up for something like that? After everything that happened…” Doctor Marshal’s face changed quickly, growing more closed-off than she’d ever seen the doctor. Damn it. “...I mean, I don’t know how much you were involved…”

“Bioweapons development and research,” Marshal said. “So, yes, I was involved. Not directly in Racoon City, I was never assigned there, but…only a few degrees of separation between my department and theirs. I’m sure members of the Nemesis team used my research.”

Oh. They had more in common than she’d realized. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Don’t be. It’s a valid question.” Marshal sighed heavily. “Honestly, it took a lot of time. Joining Blue Umbrella helped. Actions feel more like atonement than words. But I had to accept at some point that I could be as sorry as I wanted, but I couldn’t change the past. Even trying to act like the past didn’t happen kept me stuck there. I wasted so much time trying to figure out how to dance around it that I may as well have been stuck in my room, blaming myself. I had to face it, admit it, figure out what I could do instead now, and move on. I still feel guilty now, but I’m not drowning in it anymore. It’s just a feeling. Usually a productive one.”

The difference between guilt and shame. Her therapist had brought it up. Mia was really starting to hate how much the woman was right about things.

“Not everyone is going to forgive us,” Marshall added. “That’s within their rights. That shouldn’t stop us from trying.”

“...yeah.”

They dropped the subject after that, but it stayed with her. It took up so much of her mental space that she almost forgot…

“You’re doing really good,” Carlos said suddenly.

…she’d had an extra set of ears in the hallway the whole time, looking after Rose.

“What?”

“At…all of this. Considering.” Carlos cleared his throat awkwardly. “Just in case no one’s told you that.”

Carlos was an easy man to read. He reminded her of Ethan that way. She could tell he meant it. That didn’t do enough to ease the sudden dread in her chest. “How much did you…?”

“Nothing I won’t have forgotten by the end of the day,” Carlos said. “I’m great at keeping secrets. I can’t retain shit.”

That sounded sincere, too, and just self-mocking enough to get her guard back down. “That’s…”

Goot to know was what she wanted to say. It got stuck in her throat. She was barely able to hold back the alternative response.

I’m scared.

But Carlos seemed to understand anyway. He reached out carefully, only resting his hand on her shoulder when she didn’t move away. He had a reassuring grip, what she’d imagine a touch from a cool older brother or a non-shitty father would feel like. “Is there anything I can help with?” he asked.

“...no,” Mia whispered. The dread was back, joined by a heavier sense of resignation. “No. I have to do this myself.”

Deep down, she’d known it was inevitable. In fact, it was long past overdue. No matter what the outcome…

She owed Ethan the truth.

She wouldn’t be able to fix this until she’d told him.

#resident evil #resident evil village #fic: catch me floating circles in my fish bowl

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folk-ever-lore · 2 years

Text

long story short

chapter 2 - someone comes at us

[chapter 1]

Lady Noire and Red Hood had been working together for a few days when they had finally decided to go after Penguin. Previously they had just been gaining information. Hood was trying to find out information on the missing children and what the ancient object of power was. While she was trying to figure out which miraculous Penguin had gotten his hands on.

So far they’d been successful in finding information on the children. In fact, they had found out that the children were set to be transferred to the warehouse they’d met at, and that Penguin was going to be there to oversee it. It was the perfect time to strike.

They’d spent the past couple of hours watching on the rooftop, waiting for their target to enter the building before they attacked. They couldn’t draw unnecessary attention after all, that could potentially lead them to being caught. So, hours of waiting it was.

After their fifth hour on top of the warehouse, Penguin finally arrived and entered. That meant the kids wouldn’t be too far behind. Maybe twenty minutes at most. They had to do this now.

“Now we just need to get down from here and sneak in,” Red Hood murmured, clearly lost in thought.

“I think we’ll just have to go for the least noisy method of getting down, they’ll all make a lot of noise.”

“Probably, how do we get in though? Clearly we can’t go through the main door. That’s another huge question.”

Marinette smirked. She had a plan. She wasn’t sure if she really should do this, expose the existence of the miraculous to him, but there was a high chance that it would come out during the fight if Penguin really did have one of the lost miraculous. She’d decided it was worth the risk. “I can get us in rather silently,” she offered, with only a small sigh.

“How?”

She opened her baton and pulled out the horse’s glasses. “With these.”

“What the fuck?” Red Hood demanded when he saw her get the glasses. “How did you do that? Something that small shouldn’t be able to keep something that big inside. How?”

“It’s just magic,” she grinned.

“Magic?” He questioned, totally not fishing for as much information as he could. “You have magic?”

“Yep,” she confirmed easily. She always loved it when people saw her abilities up close for the first time, it was always hilarious.

“So you’re not a meta then?”

“Definitely not. I’ve been using magic since the age of fourteen.”

“Isn’t that the same age you said you’ve been in this business since?”

“Yep!”

“How didn’t we heard of a rogue magic user then?” He asked, clearly unsure of who the Justice League had failed to identify such a powerful magic user.

Marinette simply shrugged, “I’m not quite sure. Me and the rest of Paris certainly tried to reach out to you lot, and we never heard anything in return.”

“Well, that’s bound to be false,” he laughed in reply to her accusation. “The Justice League may not be the most fun bunch, but they always investigate everything that gets reported to them.”

Lady Noire shook her head sadly, “Tell that to the millions of people in my city that died, time and time again.”

Red Hood seemed truly shaken. “What?”

“People died in Paris, so many times, because a mad man had jewels that gave its wielder unimaginable power,” she informed him, anger biting into her words a bit. Sure, it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know about Paris, but it sure as hell wasn’t her’s. She’d reached out to the Justice League time, and time again. “The same type of ancient, magical jewel that Penguin has. Just one of those jewels in the hands of someone who had previously been a civilian was enough to kill millions hundreds of times over. What do you think Penguin will do with one?”

“God,” he murmured, figuring out why she’d been so insistent that she had to work on this case when they’d met on this very same warehouse roof. “That sounds horrendous. Did everyone make it out okay?”

“We survived if that’s what you’re asked,” she said curtly, “but I wouldn’t say we made it out okay. There was never any permanent damage or losses of life thanks to the healing powers of Ladybug, but I’m fairly sure that the memories haunt every Parisian each day. Some people ended up leaving the city, but most stayed. No one believed what we told them so we got ridiculed whenever we tried to go elsewhere.”

“That’s terrible. I’m so sorry the Justice League couldn’t do anything to help your heroes,” he said with a guilty voice. He had probably still been a kid then, or with the League of Assassins, but that didn’t make him feel any better about Bruce’s ignorance. “Or at least I’m guessing Ladybug was one of your heroes.”

Lady Noire nodded, “I was one of the city’s heroes. I used to use the Ladybug miraculous then, I switched to the black cat after our villain was defeated. My main partner used to use this miraculous and called himself Chat Noir, but we had a whole team by our side when needed.”

“Why didn’t you stay in Paris?” He inquired, “It sounds like they really needed you.”

She nodded sadly, “They did, but the miracle box wasn’t safe there. I became the Guardian of the miraculous when the old one was nearly killed in battle, and everyone knew that I was in Paris. It wasn’t safe to keep the box where everyone knew it was.”

“That makes sense,” he conceded finally. “Why Gotham though?”

“You have a lot of lost miraculous here,” she shrugged calmly. It was a fact she had accepted a while ago. “I recover them and keep them safe. They majorly affected the balance of the city, I suspect that’s the reason why there is an unnaturally high amount of people that become rogues.”

“You think some lost magical jewels can affect a city this much?” He asked in disbelief. He refused the idea that someone as terrible as the Joker had been influenced by a piece of jewellery into becoming the wicked man he was today. Yeah, Jason absolutely refused to believe that.

Lady Noire just offered him a slight smile in return, already knowing that nothing she could offer would make up for the news she’d just dropped. If she was in his position and someone had told her that Gabriel Agreste had been brainwashed into becoming Hawkmoth then she knew she probably would have reacted horribly. “I wouldn’t say that all of them have been influenced by miraculous, but the magic of the jewels brings out someone’s strongest traits and makes it so that they are what a person acts on. For Hawkmoth it brought out his obsessive love for his dead wife, for the Gotham City rogues it could be anything.”

Red Hood paused, taking a moment to consider and try and process everything he'd been told. He then quickly decided to throw out the idea of processing this new information, instead focusing on ignoring it until he had a full chance to process it, with a decent amount of time.

“Alright then,” he stated, as calmly as he could. “If that’s the case we should definitely stop Penguin now then.”

She nodded and Lady Noire quickly put on the glasses of the horse one, refusing to answer any questions her partner had when he saw Kaalki. “Kaalki, full gallop!”

Her suit easily turned into a mixture of a cat and a horse.

“What the fuck?” Hood muttered, but she wasn’t really paying attention.

“I’ll open a portal to the inside of the warehouse. Okay?” She checked his understanding before going through with it.

He nodded, amazed at everything he’d seen the miraculous do.

“Voyage!”

A glowing blue portal opened, and with a quick nod they both ran through. Once they entered the warehouse, Lady Noire handed Kaalki some food quickly and put him back in the miracle box for safe keeping.

Now was the time to face Penguin.

The older man gave them a smile when he gave them, although his eyes gave away his panic. He clearly hadn’t been expecting them.

“Give us the children,” Red Hood demanded, not waiting a single second before pulling his gun out and threatening the rogue.

Penguin simply shrugged, “No can do. Sorry. I need them.”

“Planning on experimenting on them?” Lady Noire sneered. God, she desperately wanted to attack that horrid man. But unfortunately they had to wait until the kids and the miraculous had been recovered before doing anything too major. “Need to figure out what the miraculous can do?”

Shame.

She could have had a lot of fun.

She was just going to have to wait a bit to have her fun.

She was still going to have a lot of fun fighting Penguin.

She’d missed being in a good fight. Although she’d been in Gotham for a while and had certainly gotten into fights with the Bats, she hadn’t felt alive during those fights like she did when a miraculous was involved.

“I already know what the miraculous can do,” huffed Penguin, easily falling for one of the most basic tricks in the business. Place dumb so they give you more information. “The miraculous of the elephant has the power of collision.”

Marinette smirked, incredibly grateful for his ignorance. She nodded at Hood, telling him what she wanted him to do quickly, not saying a word out loud. While they were planning this, they’d come up with a few motions that would easily tell the other what needed to be done. “Thank you for the information,” she grinned, a slightly wicked glint in her eyes that came from the knowledge that she could beat him.

“It will be very useful,” Red Hood continued as they slowly moved closer and closer to Penguin, working on trapping him in a corner.

As the pair worked in harmony to send the older man into the corner, Lady Noire held her hand up and showed off her ring. “Do you know what this ring is?” She asked him, a threatening manner pulsing him her whole body. Now this was going to be fun.

He nodded carefully, “The miraculous of destruction.”

“Absolutely right,” she confirmed easily and quickly. Most people couldn’t recognise that she used the miraculous, but then again most people weren’t using a miraculous themself. “And you better tell us where the kids are and let us get them to safety before I decide that using Plagg’s ability would be the best way to get around this situation.

“You wouldn’t do that,” he defended, presuming that anyone working with a bat, even the most blood thirsty bat, had a no-kill run. Red Hood had certainly started up a no killing rule after his madness went down a bit. “Not when I have one of the miraculous in my possession that you swore to protect with your life.”

Lady Noire laughed and smirked, “You think you know me, but you don’t. I swore to protect the jewels and that includes protecting them from people who wish to exploit their abilities - like you.”

She made a lunge for the miraculous pinned on his vest, taking the chance she’d gained from distracting him with conversation. During that time Red Hood had snuck out and hide, waiting for the kids. Leaving her to fight Penguin.

She could do that.

The old man didn’t have too much experience with the miraculous, definitely not as much experience as she had. She could do this.

Penguin reacted quickly and called for his transformation before her claws could do too much damage, however she did manage to make a light scratch on his cheek before he could stop it from occurring.

Lady Noire grinned internally, all was going as planned. Now he just needed to-

“Collision!”

She faked a slight surprise as he called for his power so soon into the fight. He thought she was worried, meanwhile she was waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

The power of the elephant worked quite similarly to the power of the dog, however instead of bringing something to you, it brought you to your chosen object. Another difference was the wearer didn’t need to get access to the chosen object beforehand.

She could use that to her advantage.

Clearly, Penguin hadn’t gotten used to using his power during battle, because his strategy had been absolutely terrible. Automatically using his power and heading towards the opposition, especially when said opposition still had a very dangerous power left to use, was a terrible plan.

He moved out the way of a few of her purposely weak attacks, which led him to underestimate her, and got ready to get transported next to her. Clearly, he was getting ready to attempt to knock her out with his cane. She’d have to be quick and careful to avoid that.

His trunk looking weapon had been snapped in half, signalling to his power that he was going to ‘collide’ with an area of his choice. All he had to do was picture what person or object he’d like to be summoned next to.

She got ready, changing her stance to herself more agile and graceful.

As he appeared next to her and swung his cane towards the area she was standing, Lady Noire used the grace of a cat and ducked out the way. Using his momentum to push him down to the ground, she pulled the miraculous from his vest.

“Cataclysm!” She yelled, summoning the power of destruction.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you,” she warned, keeping her negatively charged hand close to his face. “Until Red Hood gets back you’ll be staying right there unless you wish to be turned to dust. Understood?”

He nodded, “Understood.”

“Great.”

[link to part 3]

#long story short #inspired by taylor swift #based off a tumblr post #maribat #marinette dupain cheng #jason todd #jason x marinette #marinette x jason #multi chapter #cross posted on ao3 #lost miraculous #original miraculous #red hood #lady noire #marinette dupain cheng maribat #jason todd maribat #squeaky chair

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gyusfavlibra · 3 years

Text

THIS IS MY WORK! PLEASE DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ON OTHER SITES/APPS!!!!

Warnings: +18, smut, fingering, hand job, sex in bathroom, language, jealousy, fighting, arguing.

Y/n and Sarah sat quietly on Kie's bed as they waited for Kiara to stop degrading the lavender dress she wore while standing in her large mirror. Mrs. Carrera coming through the door to make sure the girls were all dressed. "This is disgusting."

"I know it's just horrible."

"I'm asking you guys to just relax and go to a fun party."

"I look like a bourgeoisie pig."

"I think you look beautiful," y/n said while shrugging at Kie. She just gave a smile back to her, still hating the look no matter what compliments were given.

"Will you please not worry about socioeconomic injustice for one night?"

"Mom, people not three miles from her have no power, no running water, and we're going to Midsummers."

"That's so tone deaf."

"Y/n," the mother scolded at her niece. "Do you know how hard we had to work to get into the Island club?"

"Yeah, mom. How could I forget? You had to grovel for, like, ten years--"

"Twelve years, and we also had to cough up a huge chunk of dough-"

"To keep up with the Joneses-"

"No, so you had the same experiences that I had as a child."

"But weren't parents as teens out, like partying, getting drunk, making out in the backseats of their cars at drive in movies," the cousin listed while putting her things in its bag. "Getting pregnant."

"That doesn't sound fun," Sarah added.

"Do you girls even know what the Island club is?"

"A factory farm."

"For debutantes," Y/n raised her eyebrows.

"It's a nice place, with nice people where you can do fun stuff."

"With out-of-touch rich people, while the island sinks slowly into the ocean."

"Water filling the poor's destructive lungs while the wealthy ones get away on million dollar boats."

Sarah sat quietly laughing on the comfy blanketed mattress. Mr. Cerrera sighed, saying one last thing before walking out. "Okay, I want you to put on your party face, girls, if you want to live."

"Did your mom just threaten to kill us?"

"Maybe. I think so," she nods as she turned around to the duo, fixing the flower crown that sat on her cousin's head. "You nervous to see Rafe."

"Why did you have to bring that up?"

"I was curious. I know it's only been two days, but-"

"Hey, he broke up with me. So if he wants to talk, that's in his duty. Not mine. I did nothing wrong."

Sarah got off the bed, swinging on it's pole. "Except flirt with JJ, or so he says."

"I was not...flirting with JJ. He has a crush on Kiara. I'd never."

"But Rafe doesn't know that."

°°°°

*flashback*

"What if she doesn't like it?"

"She'll love it. She's hippie."

Y/n and JJ sat on John B's porch, smoking a blunt. The girl was trying to help him do something nice for Kiara so JJ could ask her out without feeling weird. He's liked her for the longest and he was finally ready to tell her how she feels.

"Alright, now practice what you're gonna say."

Just as Y/n finished saying the statement, her own boyfriend, Rafe Cameron showed up. Standing behind them listening in.

"Okay, uh, hey I have to tell you something...uh important," the blonde began speaking, using hand gestures because of his nerves. "I really really like you. Like not like friends like, but I have feelings, uhm, strong feelings for you. Because you're like super hot, andnyou're like a really cool chick. So I was wondering if maybe you'd wanna...go out with me."

"Yes, t-"

"What the hell!"

The manly unknown voice shocked them both, their figures jumping at the sound because they thought they were alone.

"Rafe, what're you doing here?"

Y/n asked confusedly as she stood from the steps. The Kook just scoffed and walked back out. Ignoring her question. She shared a glance with JJ before going to follow after him.

"Hey! Where you going? What's wrong?"

"A pogue!? Y/n, seriously?!"

"What're you talking about?"

"You're cheating on me with a pogue?" He shouted. Y/n scrunched her eyebrows, looking at the unnecessary upset individual.

"What do you mean cheating? I'm not cheating on you. We were just talking."

"Bullshit. That's bullshit! I heard it all."

"Rafe, it's not like that. Jj was just-"

"I should've known better. I should've known," he fumed. His right foot swung to kick the dirt near his truck that he was so very close to getting into.

"Known what?"

"I should've never trusted a pogue. I knew something like this was gonna happen. You were just gonna throw me away like Sarah did, Topper. Right? Huh?"

"You sound ridiculous. I was never throwing you away. I was helping him out."

"Yeah, while you're at it. Might as well help sleep with him too."

Y/n scoffed, taking a step back from the angered boy who's brain had just functioned what he said. Part of him regretted it very much. But the other part thought you deserved it because of his cheating accusation.

He opened his vehicle door. Stepping one foot inside. "We're done."

The girl just laughed with held tears reaching for the openess. She turned around to head back inside as Rafe just drove off.

°°°°

"Hey, no tearing up today. Go to this stupid thing and show him that his little cheating accusation act didn't hurt you at all. You're stronger than that."

"Thanks, Kie."

The girls finished up their last minute touches. That includes sweeping their dresses with roller for no hair, any makeup redos, or hair finishes. The ride to the country club was quiet. Well, y/n was quiet.

This would be her first time seeing Rafe since their break up a three days ago. They've been doing everything in their mighty to avoid each other. And it definitely worked. But like her friend told her, she wasn't gonna get worked up. Letting Rafe see her weak was like telling him he was right about everything. But he wasn't.

"Jesus, Kook land."

"I forgot how packed this thing is every year."

"Well, let's go. I gotta walk out with my family."

The Cameron family walked out with their heads high and the Kook crowd cheered for each one. Y/n kept her eyes gazed to Kiara since they were in the middle of a conversation. Not caring if that family came in or not. That excludes Sarah.

Rafe watched from his spot by his dad, as they exited to outside. Breath hitched when he saw Y/n and her dress. It was a dark toned red, had tulle, and a revealing chest opening.

A red flower crown on her head, complimenting her beautiful down hair. She looked amazing and hot to Rafe. He had to clear his throat before excusing himself.

"Hey," the red dresses girl heard from beside her as a hand landed on her lower back. She removed it before her eyes retracted to theirs. Kie just pursed her lips before leaving to hangout with Sarah. Y/n internally screaming that she left her there.

"What do you want?"

"Uh, you look nice."

"Okay. Thanks. You don't too. What do you want?"

"Nothing. Just saying hi."

"Bye."

"Wait, wait, wait. Why are you mad at me? Shouldn't I be the mad one here?"

"Why?"

"Because of what you did," he said with furrowed eyebrows. Y/n shrugged.

"I didn't do anything."

"Do- do you not remember what happened on the cut three days ago? The fight."

"You slut shaming me and accusing me of cheating with JJ. That? Yeah, I remember that."

"Accused? I heard you."

"Heard what exactly?"

"JJ, was telling you he liked you and thought you were a cool hippie chick, which you are not. You're not hippie. And then he asked you out and you said yes. As soon as I walked in."

Y/n stared at him blankly. Before bursting out laughing. A few guests behind them staring with a look that showed they weren't used to loud talkers or laugher. "Oh my god. You thought? Jesus that's absolutely hilarious."

"What is?"

"That you think- you think that JJ was confessing feelings to me. Whew that's rich."

"I heard it, Y/n."

"He wasn't confessing anything to me you shit head. He was practicing for when he asked out Kiara."

Rafe was confused. Majorly. Inside and out. "But she-"

"He likes Kiara. And she's my cousin. You think I'd really hurt anyone like that? How low of me do you think? Have fun at this party."

Y/n walked off to go look for her disappeared friends. Not wanting to spend another second in a spot with someone who was so rude over something he knew nothing about. Just assumed. Never asked.

As she walked down the corridors of the porch that many people stood on drinking, a hand grabbed her shoulder, turning her around. Her eyes fixated on the blonde in a black tux and a bow tie.

"Holy shit, JJ. You scared me. What're you doing here?" She asked as she hugged him.

"Well, Sarah somehow convinced her dad to let me in tonight to hangout with Kie."

"Have you seen her?"

"I was just looking for her myself. C'mon. She's probably inside."

She grabbed his hand. Pulling him inside. They found Kie just minutes later with Pope. He was working the grill with his dad. Sarah was getting raided by Topper about their own stupid shit. Y/n decided to go get herself a drink and maybe find someone to dance with.

The straw rested on her lips as she stood against the porch railing. Gazing over all the people who say around laughing, probably bragging about their money, summer vacations, their older kids getting into a good college. Typical kook things.

Her eyes focused on a specific couple talking off to the side. Her eyes burning a whole in the back of Rafe's head as he tried to flirt up a storm with some Kook she didn't know whatsoever.

Her body was fuming. Was Rafe really gonna sit in front of her and flirt with a whole other girl that isn't her. Just a few days after their breakup. It's like he's trying to play victim. And she's had it.

"Hey, Sancho. Lassie."

The brunette Rafe was talking up a storm to laughed. "I'm sorry who are you?"

"Oh, you gonna introduce me to your side piece here?"

"Would you stop? We're just talking."

"Talking? Yeah, okay," Y/n laughed. The girl just looked at her dazed. "Hi, I'm his girlfriend. Y/n. And you, yeah you're excused."

Rafe was truly enjoying this scene. Internally rooting for Y/n. He wasn't gonna object to that fact that she called herself his girlfriend. Because now that he knew the truth, it changed his perspective.

"Who do you think you are?"

"I already told you. Wh- can you not hear correctly?"

"He said he was single so, why-"

"He lied. So, you can go away now- Rafe. Let's go. We need to talk."

"What're you his mother now?" The rando questioned. Y/n turned to her and gripped her face.

"If you wanna keep these teeth, then I suggest you stop talking. Go find somebody else's boyfriend to mack on."

She dragged Rafe by his hand into the upstairs private bathroom. Locking the door behind her. "What're you doing?"

"Just having a friendly conversation. There a problem?"

"You were flirting, Rafe. That was flirting," she paced. Hand against her for head.

"Like you're any better. You lied to me."

"I've never lied about anything."

"You said JJ liked Kiara."

"Yeah. He does."

"Then why is he holding your hand, hugging you, and leaving inside with you instead of the girl he supposedly likes," Rafe argued. Gripping onto the large counter.

"Rafe, I grabbed his hand and brought him inside to find Kiara. And I hugged him because I was happy for my friend. God, Rafe how many times do I have to tell you that I am not cheating on you."

"It's kind of hard to believe that shit when I keep seeing things with my own eyes."

"Then stop assuming and come ask me. Jesus, do you not trust me or something. Because I trust you. Anytime I hear that you're at a party doing lines with hot blonde's next to you, I brush it off because I know you'd never. Why can't you just do that for me."

Rafe stood from his seat. Pinching the bridge of nose. The guilty conscience grazed through his mind as he listened to her words. He had issues with trust and with others, but he knew it wasn't a reason to take it out on the only person who's loved him for him.

"I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry. You're right. I should trust you. Just like you trust me. I'll work on it. I promise."

"Don't promise me that. Just show me that you love me just as much."

The words clicked. He did love her. And he cared about her. More than anyone in this world. And he wanted to show her. In the most physical way possible.

"C'mere."

"Why?"

"Just c'mere," he repeated as he grabbed her by her waist, pulling her closer to him. She stumbled, but Rafe's grip kept her in place. He moved his face closer to hers, lips almost touching as they grazed against each other.

He used the hand placed on her waist to grip the fabric of her dress. Pulling it upwards. Her breath hitched as he hand snaked under the red tulle and right onto her now soaking core. His pointy finger swept across the waistband of her panties.

Y/n wasn't expecting this as the outcome from their miniature argument but she wasn't complaining. And neither was Rafe.

He pushed her underwear down as much as he could from their position, before going back to her walls and making circular motions. Rafe finally closer the space, kissing her lips practically roughly as he continued rubbing her.

He kept a firm hand on her waist to make sure she had a gripping support if he legs gave out, which they indeed will. The motions stopped as Y/n pulled her lips away from his. Rafe stared at her daring eyes, questioning if she wanted his to continue.

"Put them inside me," she whispered. The Cameron smirked before obliging to her demand. He stuck to fingers into her wet cunt. A soft moan escaped her lips as he did so. Pumping them in and out of her. Y/n rubbed her hand against the erection in his dress pants.

"You like that, yeah?"

She nodded as the locked her lips. Not being able to speak because knowing if she did, she let out a loud moan and even at this club would hear.

She unbuckled his pants, putting her handninside to grip his penis and pump it as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. The hand he held to her waist was now gripped on her neck, gently. Y/n clenched around his fingers. Feeling her high come close. "Dont stop."

Rafe began pumping faster just as Y/n did so. The teens were so horny that they were both already reaching their extent. Rafe's shaft twitched in her hand. "I'm cumming."

"Do it for me."

That's all it took for Y/n to finish. And Rafe too. His liquids filling her hands as they both let out moans due to their intense actions. In one swift motion, Rafe snaked a hand around Y/n's waist turning then so she was against the counter. Her pulled the straps of her dress of her shoulders, leaving kisses as he did so before connecting his lips to hers.

Her pulled his tuxedo jacket off him. Snapping the bowtie off as well. Y/n moaned at the tluchnof his hands on her breast. Massaging them in his hands over the fabric of her strapless bra.

Y/n unbuttoned the spots on his shirt before pulling it off his shoulders and onto the floor. Rafe stop his gripping motions and pulled down his pants and boxers. He sat her up on the counter. Her bare ass connecting to the coldness of the marble designed setting.

Rafe rubbed his tip against her fold once or twice before pushing himself into her. Not giving a warning, but Y/n loved the suddeness. Y/n let a moan into his next as he began thrusting his hips. The girl gripping her black painted nails into his back.

Rafe's eyes rolled to the back of his head. Enjoying the feelings of Y/n's cunt wrapped around him.

"You like that?"

"Yes, god yes."

Y/n sat up, wrapping her arms around his neck. Each moan and huff she exposed in his earn make his whole body shiver. Rafe let out a grunt before answering. She clenched her walls around his dick. The dirty blonde groaned slamming into her body. "Do it again."

She did so. Clenching around around the boy as he slammed into her again. This time, hitting the spot that made her whole body go insane. "Tell me I'm yours."

"You're mine."

A moan escaped her lips after he said what she had wanted. Her hand smacked down onto the edge of the sinks counter. Grilling onto it for dear life. "Tell me it again."

The feeling of her finishing was fastly approaching. As well as for Rafe. The moans she let out made his go over the edge as he fucked her hard. "Tell me, Rafe."

"You're fucking mine, ah-"

Each of them let out a loud moan as they finished. Covering each others mouths. There shouldn't be anyone upstairs but for precautions they covered either way.

Rafe's head fell forward onto her chest. Taking large breaths as y/n did too. "Shit, y/n."

The Cameron pulled out of her. Helping her get redressed and cleaned just after he did himself.

"You're still on the pill right?" He asked as he zipped his pants.

"Yeah. It's fine," she smiled up at his 6'4 figure. Rafe reached down to kiss her passionately.

"I love you, Y/n."

"I love you, too."

312 notes · View notes

thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Rumors

Corpse Husband x Bimbo!Reader (Female)

Warnings: Mentions of Slut Shaming, Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Tiniest bit of Angst, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When some rumors start floating around, every content creator does their best to either ignore them or defuse the situation. However, sometimes, the fans attempt to do the defusing themselves which only leads to a worse disaster. That’s the case for Corpse whose fans were quick to jump to his protection of some ‘false’ rumors.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request, it was a joy to write. I’m sorry for how long it has taken me to complete and post the fic but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy reading it at least half as much as I enjoyed writing it! Love, Vy ❤

Corpse cracks his knuckles, then his shoulders, then his collarbone, then the his neck. He clenches his jaw as he breathes steadily and rhythmically, trying to control an overwhelming wave of anger that he has never felt before. This is a situation he’s never had to deal with nor did he ever think he’d have to deal with and address on a fucking livestream on top of all, but here he is now, doing his best to count to ten and not go on a Twitter responding spree, calling people out on their bullshit. He wanted to do so, he still wants to, but he was stopped in his intentions and brought to a calm mindset where he was swayed into dealing with this the civil way and not by roasting the fuck out of any and every foul-mouthed person he’s seen on his Twitter timeline.

He can’t really guarantee and civility during the stream either, he’s aware his tolerance is as thin as a stretched out, old rubber band and is a slight tug away from snapping and allowing him to unleash hell on these people because of who he’s been seeing red these past few days.

Let’s not risk a misunderstanding here - Corpse absolutely loves and adores his fans, but seeing this behavior from them is quite upsetting and disappointing. When he uses the terms like ‘assholes’, ‘jerks’ and ‘rude motherfuckers’ he isn’t referring to them. He knows they are good people, but are using the completely wrong tactic of defending him, not to mention he doesn’t even need defending. Even if he did, he’s more than capable of doing it on his own and not getting other people involved.

“Hello everyone, hope you’re doing well.“ He finally settles on saying, officially kicking off the stream. If there’s any indicator of the serious nature of this stream, it’s probably the lack of lo-fi and the lack of even attempted playfulness and cheeriness in his voice. That’s how you know shit isn’t to be messed around about. “I just realized I didn’t specify what I’ll be doing in the Tweet, but I’ll tell you now, so those who aren’t interested in the subject or want to steer clear of the drama can leave. However, I wouldn’t advise clicking off considering this will be an overall, how do I say this, rant, of sorts? It’s meant to knock some sense in the people who have been spreading hate for a specific person on all social media platforms she’s active on.“

The majority of the viewers are already familiar with the subject, some even guilty of spreading the hate Corpse mentioned, but there are a few that are completely clueless - the ones actually not interested in online drama, not just saying they ‘hate drama’. With those people in mind, Corpse takes to addressing the issue from its very beginning.

“So, for a month now, me and this streamer, who’s also a TikTok star, by the name of Y/N have been interacting a lot on social media. She’s an incredibly sweet girl that a lot of people have prejudice towards. She’s very misjudged and misunderstood because people see he solely as her content, if that makes sense. They only know she’s that streamer who wears revealing clothes on her streams and posts risqué pictures on her Instagram. Like, no.“ Corpse cannot even fully believe he has to address this and that slut-shaming people is still a thing in the twenty-first century. He closes his eyes for a moment, fist tightening and his knuckles turning white, “I don’t understand how so many people can be so shallow and just plain jerks towards her in general, but then again - this is especially for my fans, the members of my fandom - I don’t understand the need you guys feel to put Y/N down to defend me from some ridiculous rumors as if it’s the first time I’ve had to deal with people talking shit for attention or to get someone canceled.“ He sighs, reminding himself to slow his roll as to not confuse any viewers who still don’t know the full story, “Anyway, back to the timeline of events. So, considering we’ve never interacted before, all the replying to comments, retweeting, liking posts and whatever sparked some dating rumors. Isn’t that just fucking hilarious - you see two people interacting on social media and the first thing that comes to mind is that they’re in a romantic relationship. Where did the friendship go? Does no one value or consider friendships to be a valid type of human relation anymore?“ He runs a hand through his hair, making another pause to clear his mind and prevent his frustration from overflowing. He promised he wouldn’t lose his cool and would remain calm and collected, but the more he talks about it the tighter he clenches his fist and the faster his heartrate is. His neck and ears are red from the tension he feels all over, almost like he’s physically restraining a raging wild animal and not just his own thoughts and emotions.

There’s layers to his anger, the lower ones - aka the ones he’s yet to get to - will be a nightmarish test of his self-control, he already knows it. Judging by how much of a toll this rant has already taken on him, his patience and control growing thinner and thinner, he’s not sure how he’ll power through the last layers without his voice raising awfully high in volume and his fists searching for some object to punch. To an ignorant eye, his reaction would seem exaggerated and overboard, but little does that ignorant eye know...

“When some of my fans saw those rumors, they reacted very badly. It was quite disappointing to see. Guys, I appreciate you standing up for me even though you shouldn’t do that - I can defend myself, not that this was a matter I needed defending from to begin with. But just the way some of you went about it was horrifically wrong and quite upsetting, to me but especially to Y/N herself.“ He can feel it, the aggravation growing, bubbling up in his chest, “What I saw disgusted me, I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. The things some of you were saying...I couldn’t believe you are in fact the same people who are my fans, my lovely fans who I’ve always thought so highly of. Never did I think you could be able of slut-shaming so vulgarly and grossly, I couldn’t believe what I was reading.“

He has every right to be upset - the things being said about Y/N were truly awful and a lot of things being said were meant to defend Corpse and defuse the rumors, doing so while stomping all over Y/N and her content. Rightfully so, many of her fans were outraged and quick to jump to her defense but were unfortunately outnumbered, leading Corpse to believe not many of her fans are actually real or as dedicated as his which only fueled his fury further.

Anyway, let’s take a look at Y/N’s point of view. Being a content creator for as long as she has, refusing to change her style no matter how many people disagreed and insulted her about it, she’s grown quite used to people spitting insults at her on every social media possible. It’s sad how throughout the majority of her content creating career she’s only had haters, creeps and fake fans watching her videos and streams. Rare are those in her fandom who’d actually stick up for her and defend her in ‘scandals’ such as this one. However, no amount of experience with dealing with hate could have prepared her for this outpour of some of the meanest shit she’s ever heard and been called in her life.

Y/N likes the content she makes, she’s comfortable in her skin and loves her body. She loves showing it off too and nor she nor anyone who wants that deserves to be shamed for who they are and what they do, especially when they aren’t hurting anyone and their content is still appropriate. People have always bashed her for all elements of who she is: her appearance, her clothing style, her streams, her gaming skills, her voice on occasion. She can count the instances when she’s received positive feedback on the fingers of her hands which would depress anyone else but not her. She’s always created content for her own amusement and entertainment so people’s opinions never really bothered her. Until now, until this very drama that has hit a specific nerve, an insecurity of hers she’s never talked about. The comments such as:

(Vy Speaking: Comments containing slut-shaming ahead, go to ### if you want to skip)

“Corpse would never date a slut like her“

“Corpse dating this thot? Please internet stop being ridiculous“

“Corpse ain’t a pimp, y’all need to chill“

“Even if they datin they gon break up soon - whore stays a whore“

###

bothered her far more than she’d like to admit. She has no one to open up about it either, she knows what she’ll get in response if she does - she’ll be told it’s her fault. Her fault because of the way she dresses, the way she talks and acts, because she chose this career to begin with. All her fault. The only person she can turn to she refuses to because she doesn’t want to be a bother - not after so many people confirmed her worries that she’s not good enough for him already anyway, the least she can do is avoid bothering him the best she can.

And that is exactly why this has upset Corpse so much.

“Here’s a little message specifically meant for those who claimed I’d never date someone like Y/N or specifically Y/N. You better listen carefully: Don’t you ever, and I mean EVER slut-shame my girlfriend or any other person ever. I cannot believe I have to explicitly remind you that your behavior isn’t ok. You should fucking know that your behavior isn’t right and that you’re a massive piece of shit for saying those awful things about others you judge solely on appearance and clothing. Does it surprise you that I am, in fact, dating Y/N? If you say yes for the reason you think she’s not good enough for me or that I deserve better, please get the fuck out of my fandom. No one disrespects my girl and gets away with it. That’s final!“

Though still under the influence of a flurry of negative emotions, overhearing Corpse literally telling people to exclude themselves from his fandom for being mean to her, Y/N’s taking a step towards emotional recovery knowing her boyfriend will always have her back. He’ll always be there to prove people wrong, defend her and stand by her. He’ll be there to catch her when the hate knocks her off her feet.

But most importantly: he’ll never ask her to change. Not her style, not her clothes, not her personality, nothing. He fell for her the way she is and for who she is, and he will never allow anyone to try to change her either. For someone who’s never had much support all her life, a single speck of support overpowers all the hate within the blink of an eye. Corpse will always be her knight in shining armor, the knight who defeated all the hateful demons by just entering her life. And though she’s still struggling with the ‘Am I good enough for someone so wonderful?’ and ‘He deserves better, doesn’t he?’ questions, with his hand holding hers, she’ll never let those doubts and insecurities overpower her.

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onlyfreds · 3 years

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Hugs and Kisses | F.W.

Title: Hugs and Kisses

Requested: Yes/No

Summary: Y/N is not a big fan of physical contact and Fred finds out why.

Warning/s: mentions of abuse, violence, mentions of physical abuse in the past, mention of a gun, bruises

Flashbacks are in italics.

Like everyone else, I have a pet peeve.

Mine was physical contact. Not that I didn’t like touching others, I was fine if someone rested their elbow on my shoulder, but hugging, holding hands, putting an arm around someone’s shoulder/waist. No thanks.

I was walking out of the library with Angelina when I suddenly felt an elbow rest on my right shoulder.

I breathed in the familiar scent of cinnamon and firework powder.

“Hey Freddie.” I said, turning to ginger by my side.

“Hey Princess.” He said, keeping his elbow on my shoulder as George appeared next to Angelina and the four of us started to head towards the common room.

Butterflies flew around in my stomach at the nickname, hopefully the blush on my cheeks wasn’t that visible.

“You guys remember the first time Fred attempted to put an arm around Y/N?” George asked, out of the blue, causing Angelina, Fred and I to laugh.

“Oh yeah.” Angelina said, “That was so hilarious.”

Snow lightly dropped down from the heavens. Painting the ground white and letting out a small chill into the air.

The twins and I were building a snowman outside, very innocent and calm from the usual chaos and havoc we caused, but who doesn’t enjoy building a snowman?

But that peaceful atmosphere was soon destroyed when George threw a snowball at Fred. Thus, the peaceful activity of building a snowman soon transitioned into a huge chaotic snowball fight.

“Oi!” I scolded as a poorly aimed snowball from Fred hit my shoulder.

I scooped up some snow, it was time to join the fun.

“Okay! Okay! I give up!” George said, both hands up in mock surrender as he came out from behind the tree he was hiding.

A smirk grew on Fred’s lips, “See? You can’t beat the dream team.” He teased as he put an arm around my shoulder.

Out of instinct, I immediately pulled away, looking up to see Fred and George both taken aback.

“Sorry.” Fred immediately apologized, “Did I make you uncomfortable or anything?”

I shook my head, “No. You could never make me uncomfortable. It’s just, I’m not a huge fan of physical contact.”

The twins looked at each other, probably using their twin telepathy to communicate.

“Any type of physical contact?” George asked.

I shrugged, “Not all. I suppose that there are exceptions.”

Fred then stepped forward, cautiously resting his elbow on my shoulder, “Is this okay?”

I nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay.”

“Fred’s face was absolutely priceless.” George said, aiming a teasing smile at his twin, “He looked he’d been given an electric shock.”

“Maybe he couldn’t believe that the prettiest girl he ever laid eyes on would react like that.” Angelina added.

I rolled my eyes at the both of them, “Piss off you two before I smother you two with the nearest deadly object I find.”

Angelina scoffed, “What? Don’t tell me you don’t agree.”

I tried to stop the blush that was rising up to my cheeks, “Oh for Merlin’s sake, give me a break Angie.”

I sat on the couch by the common room fire, the clock had struck one a few minutes ago but I can’t seem to put down the book I was holding.

The quiet rustling of the page being turned mixed in perfectly with the soft cackling of the fireplace.

Just as the climax was put in motion, the tension between the two lovers was growing with each passing moment, and just as if Merlin had a grudge against me, the book was suddenly snatched out of my hands.

“Hey!” I complained, looking up at the culprit to see the grinning face of a certain Weasley.

“Fred!” I whined, crossing my arms over my chest, “Why?”

He chuckled, taking a seat next to me as he took the bookmark from my hands and placed it on the page I was reading before closing the book and placing on the table next to the couch, “It’s already one in the morning and you’re still reading.”

“So?” I huffed, “Just because you have never read a book in a day of your life doesn’t mean I can’t.”

He laughed, “Shouldn’t you be sleeping instead of waiting for the two lovers to just suck it up and kiss at the ungodly hours of the morning?”

I smiled, “That’s because I need answers. Besides, I could ask you the same thing, shouldn’t you be sleeping instead of bothering me?”

Fred laughed, playing with my hair, “When did I bother you?”

I shrugged teasingly, “I don’t know. Perhaps now.”

The two of us laughed before falling into comfortable silence, his hands still playing with my hair.

“Darling, can I ask you a question?” Fred suddenly said, breaking through the silence.

I looked up at him, “Sure.”

He combed his hand through his hair, “This might be kinda sensitive. But why aren’t you a big fan of physical contact?”

I bit my lip, avoiding his gaze, contemplating whether I should tell Fred the truth or not.

The smashing of glass that came from the kitchen could be heard even from the closed door of my bedroom.

The yelling from another one of my parents’ argument echoed through the walls of the house.

Then there was a thud, causing me to wince. He must’ve hit her again; it’s being going on for years. He made her promise not tell, he swore that if she did, he would kill me.

So, she never told anyone. She covered every single evidence up with makeup and kept a smile on her lips at every family gathering we attended. No matter how many times she told me that it was okay, I knew that she wasn’t.

I took in a shaky breath as I heard nothing but silence. I slowly opened the door of my bedroom, the creak probably being the loudest sound in the house.

I was about to head to the kitchen when I was that the door to my parents’ bedroom was opened ajar, I took a peek to see my mum stuffing her clothes into a gym bag.

Her shirt was riding up a bit, exposing the almost-black bruises that was littered across her back and, as far as I knew, the rest of her body.

“Mummy?” I said, the fear inside me growing with every passing minute.

She turned to face me, quickly wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Hey sweetie.” She said, her voice a little hoarse as she stooped down to my height, “I want you to pack every important belonging you have. Okay honey? Just like we practiced.”

I nodded, running back to my room as I took the small gym bag I hid under my bed and stuffed every essential thing I could.

My mum held my hand tightly as we tiptoed through the living room, our freedom from this nightmare was just around the corner.

I looked around the living room, it looked like a storm had just passed by. Shards of glass was shattered everywhere, random things that have been thrown laid on the floor. Picture frames that once hang on the walls rested on the cement floor, shattered, broken, just like their promise of forever.

What once was a place of comfort and safety, a home, turned into a place of fear and pain, turned into hell.

Mum was just about to reach for the door handle, the only thing separating us from freedom.

“Where do you two think you’re going?” A cold, furious voice asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Mum asked, turning to face my father as she clutched my hand tighter, “We’re leaving.”

My father gave a humorless chuckle, “Acting all tough now huh? What if I don’t let you.”

Mum stepped in front of me protectively, shielding me from my father, “I don’t give a damn on what you think anymore! I had enough and we’re leaving whether you like it or not!”

Before mum could reach the handle, my father pulled her away by the back of her shirt then smacked her across the face. The force had been enough to knock her over to the coffee table.

I stood there, frozen in fear, thinking for a moment that the force was enough to kill her. Once I realized that she was alright, I immediately ran to her side.

I shot my father a death glare, and did what I thought was pretty brave (or stupid) for a toddler, I ran towards him and tried to push him away. Which, obviously, had no effect.

He looked down at me with burning rage, pulling me by the hair as tears started to stream down my cheeks. Next thing I knew, a gun was pointed to my temple.

“I dare you. Walk out that door.” He threatened, tightening his grip on me, “I promise you that your daughter won’t ever be able to see another light of day.”

“Darling?” Fred’s voice pulled me out of my flashback, “Are you okay?”

I looked back at him, not realizing the tears that were dripping down my cheeks.

Without a word, he was about to put his arm around me when he stopped in his tracks. He looked at me for a moment, silently asking me for permission.

I nodded, scooting closer to him as I rested my head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

I hated physical contact. But Fred was an exemption to that rule, or at least for now.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked softly.

I sniffed, wiping away the remaining tears from my eyes, “My dad used to physically abuse my mum. Whenever she made a mistake or talked back to him, he would hit her brutally. He made her swore not to tell anyone or else he’ll kill me. One day, my mum had enough so the two of us were supposed to escape but he caught us. He hit my mum then pointed a gun at my head. I really thought that I was going to die. Luckily for us, our neighbor suspected that something was wrong and called the police. They arrested him then my mum and I lived at my grandma’s house. Since that day, I knew that I hated physical contact.”

Fred rubbed my back comfortingly, stunned with my confession, “I’m your best friend and I didn’t know that you went through all that.”

I sniffed, “No one did.”

“But,” Fred continued, “Not every physical contact would hurt you. If you want, I can show you.”

I gave him a hesitant smile, “I don’t know Freddie.”

“Look, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. But, if you want, let’s try it for a week. If it still makes you uneasy, then just say the word and we’ll stop.” He offered.

I licked my lips, “Okay. Let’s try it.”

It was a Saturday morning, Angelina, Alicia and I were eating breakfast while discussing Alicia’s recent date with Ravenclaw keeper, Roger Davies.

“He is just absolutely amazing.” Alicia said, obviously swooning over the guy.

“I call dibs on the maid of honor!” Angelina suddenly said.

“Hey!” I complained, taking a sip of pumpkin juice, “You already called dibs on maid of honor for my wedding you can’t call dibs on Alicia’s wedding too!”

I then pointed a finger at Alicia, “I call dibs on maid of honor.”

“What’s all this talk about weddings?” George asked with a teasing grin as he sat down next to Angelina.

“Oh nothing.” I said as the older twin took a seat next to me, “We were just planning Alicia’s future wedding.”

“Wedding huh?” Fred teased, putting an arm around my shoulder, causing me to tense up at first before relaxing into his touch, “Didn’t think of you three as wedding planners.”

No answer or retort came as George, Angelina and Alicia stared at Fred’s arm that was around my shoulder, their mouths slightly agape.

“Fred.” George tried to say, thinking his twin had done it accidentally.

“Don’t you remember?” Angelina and Alicia said at the same time.

He gave them a small, reassuring smile, “Don’t worry guys. Y/N and I talked last night and she willing to give this whole thing a try.”

I nodded, “I told him the reason why I wasn’t a big fan of physical contact and he offered to show how good it is.”

“So, what’s the reason?” Alicia asked.

Fred and I exchanged a look, then he said, “I think that would be a secret between Y/N and I for now.”

His answer was met with the overlapping chatter of the group.

“What?”

“That’s no fair.”

“Why does Fred get to know but we don’t?”

Fred put both his hands up, palms facing outwards, commanding silence, “Look, I’m sure that she’ll tell you the whole story once she’s ready. But for now, we should respect her decision.”

The group nodded in agreement.

Fred clapped his hands together with a small smile, “Great! Now going back to Alicia’s wedding planning, who’s the groom?”

Fred and I were hanging out by the courtyard, watching the sunset, his arm resting across my waist.

For the rest of the day since breakfast, Fred would frequently put an arm around my shoulder or waist.

At first, it felt a bit weird to feel his arm around me but by the afternoon I was used to it.

I had to admit, it felt nice.

“You okay?” He asked.

I nodded, giving him a small smile, “Yeah.”

“Are you sure your fine with this arrangement? Because if your uncomfortable we can stop.” He said.

I giggled, “Honestly Freddie, I’m fine. It actually feels better than I expected.”

He grinned, “Oh darling, just wait until I spoil you with hugs.”

His tone then turned serious, “Thank you for trusting me with your secret.”

I smiled up at him, “I’d trust you with my life Freddie.”

Over the next few weeks, Fred every physical contact as possible.

He was right, not every touch would hurt me.

I enjoyed every single one of his hugs, whenever he would place his arm around my shoulders or waist. He always seemed to find an excuse just to hold me close to him. I had to admit, there was something comforting about being so close to him, that I regretted not trying this out sooner.

“Penny for your thoughts darling?” Fred asked, wrapping his arms around my waist.

I turned around to face him, “Nothing much.”

“So, how does you feel about physical contact now?” He asked with a sly smile.

“I’m loving it.” I said returning the smile, “Thank you so much for showing me how good it is.”

He laughed, “Well I think that there is another form of physical contact you might like.”

I raised a brow at him, “Oh yeah? What is it?”

He slowly leaned forward and connected our lips together in a hungry and desperate kiss, all those years of pent-up feelings being poured into that kiss.

His hands rested on my waist as I cupped his cheeks in my hands.

Even if it was happening right in the moment, I still couldn’t believe that my best friend, my crush ever since first year was kissing me.

We pulled away for a minute before he reconnected our lips together again, this time it was slow and sloppy but full with passion.

Once we pulled away, Fred rested his forehand against mine, both of us breathless and cheeks painted a deep shade of red.

“I liked you for such a long time.” He whispered, “I have never met anyone so cute, so stunning, so intelligent, so funny and so damn hot and sexy. I have never been so in love and wanted anyone more than you. So, will you be my girlfriend?”

I smiled, “Please tell me that I’m not dreaming.”

He chuckled, tracing a finger over my arm, watching the goosebumps erupt from it, “I’m positive that you’re not dreaming.”

I giggled, “Then I would absolutely love to be yours. I would love to be able to hug you, hold your hand and kiss you. Thank you for showing me how it feels to be loved by someone so perfect.”

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raguna-blade · 3 years

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Persona 5, Makoto, And Cops

So, like...We can all agree that it's weird that Makoto want's to be a cop in the game right? Aside from general cop bastardry irl, there's like precisely one police officer in the entirety of P5 who's at all a clear cut good guy and even he basically just says out and out, super explicitly that the cops are like...Not great.

At BEST, at BEST, they ensure the laws are followed, but that doesn't always equate to justice being served, and it is hilariously easy for them to be made into tools of opression, and to be made into stooges of people who want to do wrong.

Like Zenkichi out and out says “You really shouldn't be a cop.”

But Makoto still want's to be, despite knowing this, despite agreeing with this, and it's a weird gap right? Of perhaps everyone in the group, she should know best how following the rules and laws can lead to people doing pretty screwed up things if her little stint stalking and then blackmailing joker and company.

And she's just a student council president you know? It's not like she has anywhere near the same authority as a police officer, and unlike Chie who (for sake of argument here) has pretty objectively Upstanding Excellent Cops in her neighborhood except for you know the one who decidedly wasn't but P4 isn't really dealing with Laws and their problems, so them not leaning into law enforcement is a problem makes sense. Dojima is a just dude trying to do his best and even here the only other cop of note is uh...A straight up monster who abused his position of authority to get away with terrible things.

But back to P5, like...The game isn't subtle about it's feelings about law enforcement. Every Single Shadow is represented in the field by varying kinds of law enforcement operative types. Guards, knights, actual cops, prison wardens, etc etc. The Ultimate Big Bad basically posits that humans can't follow the rules and for that need to be severely punished and so laws and rules more or less end up being the big bad foe here.

The motivation to be a cop is well...Painted as whole heartedly misguided at best. We never get to know anything about Makoto's dad, and he's her inspiration for that goal, but at the same time, we get to see the other daughter who I think it's safe to say ALSO had him as something of a goal and...Sae also doesn't exactly come off as a perfect avatar of justice here either.

She very clearly WANTS to be, no doubt, and the massive shock of the games events does change her trajectory, but she's been deep down in the swamp of the system and she knows intimately that well...It's a shit show at best.

So i'm circling back to it as...Why? What's the deal here with what the game is going for theme wise? The idea of internal reform I suppose is being suggested, but the game's also make it remarkably clear that that actually won't work.

I'd say even textually, not even dipping into subtext, the game is out and out saying that you cannot reform a system from the inside like that when it's that far gone. Between P5 and P5S it's made abundantly clear that even what is functionally in a metaphysical sense a hard system check of things going out of whack law wise like the phantom thieves (what with their flipping of the table) they can't actually solve the problems of the system itself being super fucked. At best they can stop it from going full on malignant, but the cancer is still there. If the people don't actually band together to overturn things that are broken, especially when it is well within their hands to do, it's not going to improve, it's not going to get better. It's a delaying action at best.

Like the Phantom Thieves can't save everyone. Akira Konoe bluntly makes it clear when he asks them and the PT can only really go...No we can't. If we knew sure, but we don't possess the ability to do that. It's outside our ability entirely to do so for everyone.

So...Back to Makoto then. It's abundantly clear, I think, that she's very much of the mold of she want's to be a cop to protect people. That's what the job description is, even if that's not what it is in reality. And I think we can at least say that she's not so naive by this point to think that if she goes in she's going to be able to reform things, not by herself. It's worth noting that her intended goal is to become a Police Commisioner, and basically form her own police branch under her rules and regulations which...Fair. Fine. There's something to be said for being an apt demonstration but it doesn't actually fix the problem at it's core does it?

Which I think pushes this into the funky grey area of things because I don't think she's precisely...Wrong to want to do this. As stated, I think the games make it abundantly clear that one person on their own can't make radical and deep changes. You need people and momentum and everyone willing to work and all that.

Certainly, I think, it would be tremendously easier to reform an organization if someone in that organization is willing to make calls against what they're doing presently. But by the same token, it's also clear if you're entering an organization to try and change that organization it's uh...Not precisely a good bet. Now there's something to be said for being willing to try it I think. While the game doesn't exactly indicate how it'll go, we can imagine that following the events of the game that Makoto wouldn't be crushed under the weight of it all and change for the worse....Though the question of if she'd be able to make her goals a reality are a different question. She has allies in that fight for sure, between Zenkichi, Sae, and (from all indications) Kaburagi, there is at least some element of reform at play, but it's also well...

The big ass conspiracy didn't exactly come out of nowhere no? And the cops at every level more or less were compromised to some level or another, and this includes these prospective allies.

But then, I guess this goes back to the Phantom Thieves themselves. They're not able to actually fundamentally fix the problems at play. They stop the worst excesses certainly, the most terminal aspects of it, although in doing so they are very nearly destroyed outright and with barely a thought. In that spirit, Of doing what you can with what you can it changes the read on the decision at least somewhat.

The Daughter of a well decorated cop, sister of a particularly well known ex prosecuter now defense lawyer, in addition to being a top honor student type, certainly gives her a bit more leverage to attack the problem, especially in the sense of getting into a position to actually change things. To say nothing of Joanna.

Taking her awakening quote into consideration

"Have you decided to tread the path of strife...? Very well. Let us proceed with our contract at once. I am thou, thou art I... You have finally found your own justice... Please... Never lose sight of it again. This memorable day marks your graduation from your false self..."

and the general story the game presents of Joanna as one who rose to the top of the organization she was in and shook it to it's core (doesn't particularly matter how true that is in reality, merely what the game says for this instance) it's clear that indeed that's her gambit, if not the specific trickster archetype she's supposed to embody (as opposed to Joker's completely outside the law rogue, Anne's Femme Fatale, or Morganna's Layabout by Day Vigilante by Night as off the cuff examples), of someone who appeared to all eyes to be a harmless simple part of the system until it was simply too late for them to do anything about it.

There is a solid arc there, and a story to be told, and I think in that light makes the continued ambition make sense especially given what we're shown of well...Uh, everything to do with law enforcement in P5.

Now if they actually communicated that idea WELL is um...probably a different story. I think it's there to see, but I can easily see this being overlooked if this was the actual intent. Though, thinking about it, the way the various trickster archetypes are shown to function isn't quite as clear as it could be, though I think there's something to say for looking into that.

Later though.

#Persona 5 #makoto nijima #theme analysis

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kozozaki · 3 years

Text

The Blame - Ranboo x Reader Chapter 3

Y/n ended up falling asleep at Tommy's house from a combination of stress and just plain tiredness. She yawned quietly and started climbing the ladder, walking towards L'manburg. She got to the top of the staircase before stopping abruptly.

"What the hell?!" She ran towards the now walled-in country, running her hand against the rocky obsidian. She could hear the angry and confused voices of Tubbo and Big Q on the other side. "Guys?" Y/n yelled to get their attention.

"Y/n?" Tubbo said from behind the wall

“Tubbo, what is this wall? Why is this here?”

“That’s exactly what I want to know!”

Y/n dug a small hole in the wall. “I haven’t seen you in a while so I came to L’manburg, but this isn’t what I was expecting…” she looked through the window of the camarvan to see Quackity yelling at Tommy. Her eyes narrowed, she knew why the walls were there, and she knew who put the walls up too.

“Y/n, let’s get inside the van, Fundy will be here soon,” Tubbo said. She nodded but didn’t go into the van yet.

“Y/n, do you know what happened to my house?” George was there. She froze.

“Something happened to your house?” She played dumb.

“Yeah, it was burnt and robbed. Dream said it was Tommy.” Of course Dream said it was Tommy. He wasn’t wrong per-se, but Dream was always out to get Tommy in one way or another, and it pissed Y/n off.

“Is that why there are walls around L’manburg?” George nodded. She looked at the town center, more specifically Ranboo. He didn't have his sunglasses on. His eyes were heterochromatic, one green, and one red. They looked really pretty.

Ranboo gave Y/n a worried look, basically asking if she was okay. She nodded and waved. He waved back, still looking concerned. Tommy, Quackity, Tubbo, and Fundy exited the camarvan. “Let’s go speak to Dream,” Tubbo suggested. No one answered, but everyone followed.

“What are you doing here, Y/n?” Tommy asked.

“Tommy, I can’t go one day without waking up and being pissed at my brother,” she admitted. They were far enough behind the others now that they wouldn’t hear, “Tommy, they have no idea Ranboo and I were involved, they’ve tunnel-visioned on you. I would take the blame from you, but they wouldn’t care, they would just punish us both. If Ranboo gets blamed, I’m gonna take the heat for him.”

“But Y/n-”

“No, Tommy, I’m gonna take the criticism for him, and that’s final, no objections. His life is probably worth 3 times as much as mine, so it’ll be more beneficial.”

“I won’t argue with you, but I will argue that your life is equal to or higher than everyone’s, at least agree to that,” Tommy hated when she put herself down like that.

“I would be lying if I said I agree with you,” she said in a monotone voice.

“Tch. Look, it’s the green bastard.”

“Dream. Why did you build these walls around L’manburg?” Tubbo asked. Ghostbur was saying the other day how everyone seemed to prefer him dead than alive, but if Y/n were being honest, even in Wilbur’s slightly psychotic state, she would have preferred him as the president.

“Just as an incentive,” Dream looked at Y/n. She longed to rip that patronizing smile off his face. He knew she helped, but he was waiting to see if she would throw herself under the bus to save Ranboo. He knew her more than she knew herself, “If Tommy doesn’t get punished for griefing George’s house soon, the walls will expand.”

Tubbo thought it over for a moment, “Let’s go to the courthouse.”

Once the group arrived, Tommy was put in a holding cell. Quackity was speaking to him. Y/n was sat next to Ranboo, they were both on edge. “Tommy, I’m on your side, but I have to be unbiased as possible. George, if you would like to explain what happened.”

“I’m just walking around the SMP and was told by someone who asked to remain anonymous that my home was burnt down, and I thought they were joking. So I asked them who did it, and the names I was given were Tommy, but there were two more. Y/n and Ranboo.” A series of gasps rang throughout the other members in the courthouse. Y/n immediately looked to the ground. She couldn’t defend Ranboo if they were both being sussed.

“Ranboo, Y/n, I’m gonna have to ask you to step into this cell here,” Tubbo ushered the two into the compact cell.

Y/n looked down at the lava. She whispered, “Anonymous my ass, it’s obviously Dream.”

“It probably is, but they aren’t completely sure we did it. As much as I hate saying it, they already know Tommy did it, nothing is gonna change their minds. We have to stay as innocent-looking as we can,” he definitely wasn’t lying, the two needed to stay as indifferent as they could.

“Tubbo please, listen to me, I have 4 witnesses, Captain Puffy, Nihachu, Ranboo, and Y/n, I was with them last night. Isn’t that right, Niki?” This idiot, it doesn’t help when two of his witnesses are prime suspects.

“I didn’t see Y/n,” Niki says. She was right, Y/n wasn’t there, but for reasons unrelated to the robbing.

“I, I felt really nauseous, so I was at Tommy’s house while Ranboo and him were helping you guys.”

“Right, Ranboo, shed some light on the situation please.” Tubbo’s monotone voice was intimidating Y/n a bit, he had always been the more cheery person in every group.

“Okay, umm, just be aware that I do have extremely bad short term memory loss.” Several people started talking at once but Y/n could only make out what Tubbo was saying.

“Okay, right, Tommy, the fact that he is struggling to remember is making your situation worse.” Fundy looked at Tubbo for approval to flick a lever, Y/n and Ranboo watched in horror as he pulled it down. “Tommy you have two strikes left, I need to hear your side and I need you to not yell.”

“It was the perfect crime.”

“Tommy!” Y/n yelled, surging forward slightly. Ranboo placed a hand on her shoulder, and she instantly relaxed, walking to the corner of the box-shaped room, sliding down the wall and resting her arms on her knees while Ranboo sat down carefully next to her. She was shocked, she didn’t think he would admit to it.

Fundy started recording everything Tommy said after that. “But hear me out Tubbo, he’s being biased against me, and Dream retaliating by building huge obsidian walls is absurd.”

“Tommy I have been advised to banish you,” Fundy flicked yet another lever, “But that is a very extreme measure and I hope it doesn’t have to come to that. So you’ll be put on probation. George, Tommy will be stripped of his power, and everything he does he will have to report directly to Fundy. Tommy as of now you are on probation, for the next two weeks.”

“Tubbo, this is insane!”

“It may be insane but I’m hoping this is conclusion is satisfying enough to get the walls tore down.”

“Well why are the walls even there in the first place? He can’t just build walls because I, me and- by myself I did a little prank,” Y/n looked up, her eyes strained. She turned to Ranboo relieved, Tommy didn’t slip up, he nearly did though. Ranboo must’ve put his sunglasses back on while she wasn’t looking.

“George is the king of the SMP, Tommy, this is considered treason,” Tubbo looked at Fundy and he nodded. Fundy put his hand on the last lever and pulled.

“Tommy!” Y/n yelled again, this time from anxiety. She knew very well what was under that glass, and so did Fundy, “Fundy why would you do that?!”

“Just felt like it.” he said in a snarky tone.

“How is he alive?” George asked. All Y/n saw was Quackity fall into the pit with Tommy and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Y/n don’t fucking laugh at me!”

“I’m sorry, Big Q, from where I am right now, it was hilarious,” she looked over to see Ranboo laughing, his laugh sounded really nice.

Quackity exited the box and Tommy followed, leaving the courthouse yelling, “Fuck you!”

“Mr. President, what are we do with Ranboo and Y/n?�� Karl said.

Tommy came back immediately to say “No, no, listen, listen Tubbo, they weren’t there it was just me.”

“Those two weren’t there?”

“It was just me.”

Y/n and Ranboo were let out of the cell. Y/n let out a sign of gratitude, people were mistaken when they said Tommy was egotistical.

While walking back to L’manburg Tommy and Tubbo were arguing, and it broke Y/n’s heart, they were the best of friends before Tubbo became president. Maybe Techno was right, the government does corrupt. A cabient meeting was called in the middle of the walk to L’manburg. Tubbo called her over and she separated from Ranboo and Niki and joined Tommy, Tubbo, Quackity, and Fundy.

Y/n spaced out, staring at the ground until Dream showed up. “Tubbo. Probation isn’t enough.”

“Dream I know you suggested exile but-”

“That’s not enough! Tommy is Tommy, he’s never gonna stop, his goal is to piss me off, and if you want that, as somebody in your nation, even if he doesn’t have power, there aren’t that many members of L’manberg. And it’s fine, you guys wanna think about it, it’s fine. We can arrange a meeting to talk about what to do with him. Set a time, set a day, I’ll come.”

“Okay, how about the second, the second of December?”

Everyone agrees but Y/n stays silent. “Y/n?” Quackity asks.

“I’m sorry, being around my Dream is screwing with my head, I need to go.” Dream grabbed her wrist.

“Y/n, please.”

“No! I’m not gonna stay around to just to hear you manipulate Tubbo into doing what you want and me not being able to do anything, as per usual!”

She walked back to where Ranboo was, he immediately put a comforting hand on her shoulder. He glared at Dream, glad he was wearing glasses. “What happened Y/n?”

“My brother is extremely manipulative, just being around him confuses me. I can never tell if he agrees with me or is on my side or not. TLDR; Dream’s a piece of shit.”

Ranboo hummed in agreement. “You should probably go home, it’s getting dark, and you shouldn’t be around all this government stuff, you’ll get too stressed. Would you mind if I visited you tomorrow?”

“I’d like some company. It’s pretty lonely out there, Tubbo doesn’t come around often, he’ll probably show up even less with all this political bullshit.” He was slightly startled by the girls aggressiveness, but it was justified, and wasn’t directed towards him.

He walked her to the nether portal where they said their goodbyes.

“See you tomorrow, loser,” she joked. Ranboo gasped dramatically, “Yeah, you heard right, loser.”

“You’re mean.”

“No no no, I’m sorry Ranboo it was joke!” She engulfed him in a hug. He was surprised, they had become kind of close but he was scared to assume she was comfortable with hugs. But when she did it, he was relieved.

“Bye, shorty,” He patted her on the head. She gave him the middle finger and stepped into the nether.

“Later, giraffe.”

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

Lmao I’m sorry for anyone who is over 5’5 I’m just salty I’m only 5’2

#ranboo #ranboo x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt #dream smp #dream smp x reader

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apopcornkernel · 3 years

Text

a chat in disneyland

this fic was written for the insanely good n super hilarious @totographszine !! check out the rest of the fics/art in it, the mods did such a great job with the zine!

summary: adrien visits disneyland for a field trip. the problem? chat noir's banned from disneyland. (3.2k words)

Adrien was a good boy. An angel. His appearance practically screamed innocence, what with his neatly combed golden hair—with just the right amount of floof to it—his tidy outfit, and his perpetually sparkling emerald eyes. And if that didn’t win you over, he had another, much more effective weapon in his arsenal: a smile that could melt hearts of stone, and kindness to match.

He was virtually virtuous, if Adrien did say so himself.

But to the employees of a certain establishment called Disneyland Paris, he was no saint. (There was a reason he’d been banned from Disneyland.)

And to Adrien’s terror, he was currently being scrutinized by one of said employees.

Adrien swallowed as he shuffled forward uneasily. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone on the field trip. Maybe he shouldn’t have risked it. Maybe he should’ve at least worn sunglasses.

The security guard squinted at him in suspicion. “Have I seen you around, son? You seem rather familiar.”

Eyes widening, Adrien raised his hands in falsified objection. “Uh, I don’t think so? I’ve never even been to Disneyland before,” he fibbed. “Sir.”

The man leaned forward, eyebrows furrowing. Adrien shrank back.

“No, I swear I’ve seen you here before,” the stocky man muttered, a frown creasing his forehead. “Maybe ...”

Adrien bit the inside of his cheek. “Maybe you saw me in an ad, sir? I’m—I’m Adrien Agreste.”

The man—Claude, his name tag said, flashing into sight—cocked his head. “Maybe …?” Claude shook his head, sighing. “Ah, I apologize. This old man’s probably just being a little too paranoid.”

Adrien had to stop himself from nodding. That’d be rude.

Exhaling, Claude handed him a ticket and a brochure. “Anyways, you’re free to go, Adrien Agreste. Welcome to Disneyland.”

Adrien couldn’t help but break into a relieved grin. “Thank you, sir!”

As he pranced away towards the rest of his classmates, he thought he heard Claude mumble something under his breath.

It almost sounded like he’d said, “I almost thought you were Chat Noir.”

Adrien shivered and tried to banish the thought.

The sun beat down harshly on Nino as he walked with Adrien, trailing behind Alya and Marinette. Nino wiped the beginnings of sweat off his brow and turned to start a conversation with Adrien. But as he did, he noticed Adrien’s seeming discomfort. And after three years of friendship, Nino was pretty sure he knew his best friend well enough to tell. (Also, Adrien had just been looking over his shoulder, which was kind of a giveaway.)

He tapped Adrien on the shoulder. “Hey, bro. You alright?”

Adrien’s head swivelled to meet Nino’s gaze. “What are you talking about? I’m fine. Everything’s fine!”

Adrien’s smile looked off, in Nino’s opinion.

Nino raised an eyebrow. “You sure, dude? You don’t sound fine.”

“I’m sure!” Adrien took a deep breath, his eyes still a tad frantic. “I’m sure, Nino.”

Nino shrugged. “Okay, then.” If Adrien wouldn’t tell him, Nino would leave him alone. Maybe his bro was watching out for rabid fans or something. Whatever it was, it wasn’t really his business.

“Okay,” Adrien breathed. “Thank you.”

But while he was willing to turn a blind eye to it, Alya, on the other hand, had apparently noticed the odd exchange and now seemed intent on figuring out what exactly he was up to. It seemed there was no escape for Adrien now. She strode towards him, and Nino left to accompany Marinette.

Adrien flinched as Alya approached and proceeded to sling an arm around his shoulder.

“Hey, sunshine,” Alya said. “Any particular reason you’re looking so jittery? Scared of rollercoasters?”

Adrien laughed nervously. Oh, how he wished it were that simple. “Of course not, Alya.” He shrugged her arm off in a pseudo-casual manner, trying to inject some liveliness in his voice. “Are you?”

She laughed, taking his flimsy objection in stride. “Psh. Of course not. I have nothing on Marinette, though.”

Adrien turned to look at Marinette, who hovered some distance away with Nino. A cheerful smile graced her face, and he found himself entranced by the way her lips moved when she talked. “Marinette?”

“Oh, yeah. Girl’s a madwoman when it comes to these things.” Alya chuckled. “You probably wouldn’t expect it, with how clumsy she acts, but Marinette’s one of the toughest people I know.”

An image of Marinette glaring down at him while he scraped gum off a chair flashed through his mind. “I can see it.”

Alya muttered something underneath her breath, rolling her eyes.

“Hmm?” All Adrien had caught were the words can’t see, crush, and though.

“Oh, nothing,” Alya said, brushing it off easily. “You aren’t off the hook, though. I just know you’re hiding something, Agreste.”

Adrien looked away, trying to avoid her prying gaze. “Uh. Sure.”

Meanwhile, Claude had taken a break and was now standing in line for a sandwich. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, feeling uneasy.

It had been around an hour since he’d seen the face of “Adrien Agreste.” And still he couldn’t shake the thought that “Adrien” looked similar, so similar, to the terror of Disneyland Paris: Chat Noir.

He shivered at the memory.

Chat Noir had been banned from Disneyland for a reason. A very, very good reason. (Claude could still see the panicked faces of Parisians as they fled from the chaos Chat Noir had begun.) And as much as he desperately tried to tamp down the memories, he found himself reliving the fateful events once more, war-flashback style.

It was a peaceful day.

Birds chirped atop tree branches and wooden benches. Families strolled through the amusement park, composed of energetic kids, bored teenagers, and tired adults. The sun shone brightly, clouds occasionally scudding across it and providing momentary relief from its blinding rays.

By all accounts, it was a normal day at Disneyland.

A random pigeon pooped on Claude’s ticket counter.

Claude sighed. He reached for a tissue and wiped it off, chucking it into a nearby disposal bin.

Yep. A normal day at Disneyland.

Spying another excited family approaching his booth, he sighed resignedly, preparing himself for the onslaught of children.

They weren’t bad, per se, but his time working for Disneyland had shown him just how depraved children’s minds could be. Here, at his little ticket booth, he had witnessed both unspeakable wonders and horrors.

(Little did he know that one such horror would soon befall them. All of them.)

“Hello there. Welcome to Disneyland.” The canned greeting rolled off his tongue easy as pie. “May I see your tick—”

Something—or rather, someone—suddenly dropped down from above, cutting in front of the boisterous family.

Claude gaped in astonishment.

Standing before him, with slightly disheveled hair and a crooked grin, was Chat Noir.

“Chat Noir! What are you doing here?”

“Hello! I’ve got a ticket here—can I go in now?” The superhero practically vibrated with excitement.

Claude processed his request, then said slowly, “You’ll have to wait in line—”

Chat frowned, his sunny mood clouding over before Claude could even finish his sentence. “Oh. That’s too bad. Maybe I’ll just go somewhere else, then.”

Behind Chat, Claude’s harried manager—huffing and puffing from having run all the way there—was shaking her head frantically.

“—but maybe we can make an exception for one of Paris’s superheroes,” Claude finished hastily, risking another glance at his boss. The woman nodded, a relieved smile on her face.

“Really?” Chat Noir asked, beaming.

“Of course,” Claude replied, sweat beading his forehead. He glanced nervously at the clawed hand that clutched a ticket. That hand can wield destruction itself, his brain reminded him, and he felt even more on edge. “Can I see your ticket, sir?”

“Sure! Here you go,” Chat said cheerily.

To be honest, Chat’s bubbly demeanor scared him. Claude had watched enough TV shows to know that the innocent, cheerful ones were usually the most dangerous.

Quickly scanning the slip of paper, he stashed it and handed Chat Noir a wristband and a flyer from the stand near his booth. Behind Chat, the family who he’d been attending to earlier still stood agape. Even the children had gone quiet, frozen in shock.

“Welcome to Disneyland!” He tried to inject more energy into his voice. It didn’t work. “We hope you have a nice time.”

Chat beamed, casting an excited glance at his wristband, then at the gates up ahead. “I will! Thank you!”

And with that, Chat Noir pranced off, looking very much like a little child as he merrily went through the gates, ooh-ing and aah-ing at every single little thing.

Claude slumped into his seat, relieved that the ordeal was over. His manager patted him on the back and told him to take a fifteen minute break.

Those fifteen minutes were all it had taken for Disneyland Paris to descend into chaos. Absolute, screaming chaos—complete with an actual akuma.

“Can I take your order, sir?”

He jolted, summoned back to the present. “Oh, sure.”

As he rattled off his order, he prayed that this Adrien Agreste really wasn’t Chat Noir. He did not want a repeat.

(Claude’s prayers, sadly, went unanswered.)

One hour later, Adrien found himself staring up near the theater entrance.

He’d been too caught up in worry to really notice where his friends had been heading, but now that he was face to face with the building, a shudder ran through him.

This was where it had all begun, after all. The incident that had gotten Chat Noir banned in the first place.

His friends were already inside, and unless he wanted to look extra suspicious, he had no choice but to follow. Cautiously, he sat down beside Marinette. Nino and Alya were on Marinette’s right.

“H-hey,” Marinette whispered as the lights went out and the audience hushed. “What’s your va—favorite song from this one?”

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh, which musical is this? I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Ladybug and Chat Noir: The Musical. Which song’s your favorite?”

Oh.

His heart pounded and sweat formed on his hands. It would be weird if he left now, right?

Right.

“Adrien?”

He forced a smile. “I like Ladybug’s solo. Oh, and her and Chat Noir’s duet. What about you?”

She giggled. “To be honest, the only song I really know is Hawkmoth’s. My dad once got it stuck in his head for a week, and my ears suffered for it.”

He grinned, some of his unease dissipating. “Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

In the dim light, Adrien thought he could see a blush on Marinette’s cheeks. “Y-yes.”

The spotlights powered on from the stage and the music started up. It was definitely too late to back out now, but that was okay. There was no way he could make the same mistake twice. All he had to do was remember not to get too carried away. (Last time, he’d accidentally upstaged the Chat Noir actor, or so the guy had felt, and got him akumatized.)

Yes, today would be fine. After all, he was here as Adrien Agreste. Just another student with his friends. What was the worst that could happen?

The actor that played Chat Noir sauntered onstage and started singing. Adrien was doing great. No one was paying attention to him. Nothing had gone wrong. He relaxed and, having memorized the entire first act of the musical, sang along cheerfully, eliciting a giggle from Marinette beside him.

Laughing with her, Adrien sang, “And all I’ve gotta do is say, ‘Transform me!’”

All of a sudden, a flash of green light burst from him, and Marinette screamed.

Oh no.

Horrified, Adrien looked down—and, yep, his transformation had activated. Out of instinct, he leapt out of his seat, falling on all fours onto the (thankfully empty) row in front of him.

Adrien—or, well, Chat Noir—slowly rose to his feet and turned around to face his friends.

Ladybug’s going to kill me.

He gulped. “I promise this isn’t what it looks like …”

“Chat Noir?” Marinette lowered the hand she’d used to shield her eyes, squinting into the dark. “What are you doing here?”

“Wait, you don’t—uh, I mean, I was here for a field trip,” Adrien stammered, heart pounding. So she hadn’t seen him transform?

Alya leaned over, eyes widening. “Chat Noir!” She tugged Nino’s arm excitedly. “Hey, look! It’s Chat Noir!”

As the whispers rippled through the audience, Adrien slowly backed away. “Um, I really have to go now … bye?”

Heart in his throat, Adrien sprinted out of the theater.

The security guards were out for his blood.

He adjusted the mouse-ear headband that had been blown askew from his escape, scanning his surroundings as he did. In truth, he was trembling. Being chased the first time had been bad enough, especially since he had somehow ended up in one of the artificial lakes scattered around the park. Being chased a second time was nerve racking.

When he turned around to check behind him, he nearly yelped and gave away his position.

Mere feet away from him stood Marinette, feeding a cookie to her bag.

His eyes widened.

No, scratch that. Feeding a cookie to her kwami.

Tikki froze mid-swallow, eyes wider than he thought possible. Adrien thought he could see Marinette’s soul leave her body.

“Ch-Chat Noir,” Marinette stammered, a sudden sheen of sweat on her forehead. “Fancy s-seeing you here.”

His mouth moved before his mind could comprehend it. “Ladybug?”

The word was suffused with wonder, with disbelief.

Marinette hung her head. “Would you believe me if I told you this was a toy that somehow got possessed by a cookie demon?”

Adrien couldn’t help the snort that escaped him. “Nah. But five points for originality.”

Marinette looked back at him, a rueful smile on her lips. “Oh, well. I tried.”

Adrien smiled back, and for a moment they shared a sort of sheepish happiness.

And then a whistle pierced the air, and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Crap,” he hissed. “I gotta go.”

She peeked out of the alleyway. Seeing the guards, she raised an eyebrow. “Kitty?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I … may or may not have been banned from Disneyland the last time I was here.”

She shot him a deadpan stare. “You’re kidding.”

Adrien shrugged. “I didn’t think they’d ban me, but hey—I guess there’s a first for everything.”

Marinette smacked her forehead. “Good grief, Chat. What did you even do last time?”

The sounds of the security officers grew louder. He readied his baton. “I can explain later, m’lady, but I really need to go.”

Marinette sighed. “No. Stay here. I’ll fix this.”

Adrien cocked his head, confused, but obeyed her. He watched as Marinette transformed into Ladybug and felt a thrill run in his veins at the reminder that he’d really found his lady and that his lady was Marinette.

She stalked out of the alleyway. Adrien tried not to swoon at her confident stride.

“Is there a problem here?” Marinette asked in a tone that could make the fiercest akuma cower.

The security officers skidded to a stop. Adrien could practically see their jaws dropping open.

That’s my lady!

He crept closer, wanting to eavesdrop. He’d be lying if he didn’t say he felt vindicated.

“—bug, your partner—”

Marinette let out a long-suffering sigh. “Oh, I know all about it.”

“We really are sorry, Ladybug,” someone interjected. “It’s just that we can’t risk it happening again.”

Adrien cringed.

“Oh?” Marinette seemed amused. “Well, I’ll ask him later. But please, leave this to me. You may go back to your posts now.”

There were meek murmurs of assent from the normally tough security guards, and from the rustling he could hear, they were already leaving. Adrien had to stifle a laugh.

As they left, Marinette walked back towards the alleyway. Adrien unconsciously straightened as she came into view.

“That was awesome!” he gushed, trailing her like a happy puppy. “You just—just stood there and spoke to them and then they just went away!” He laughed gleefully. “You’re amazing, princess!”

Marinette laughed and turned toward him, booping him on the nose. “Silly kitty.”

She pranced away, going to sit down at the end of the alley. She patted a suited hand on the space next to her. “Sit down.”

He did so eagerly. “So, now that the cat’s out—”

“Chat Noir.” There was a twinkle in her eye. “How’d you get yourself banned from Disneyland?”

Adrien shrank back, sweat beading on his forehead. “Do we have to talk about it now?” he asked, laughing nervously. “Wouldn’t you rather know your partner’s identity first?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. There was a grin on her face, though. “Oh, fine. I’ll bite. What’s the true identity of my knight in shining leather?”

Adrien beamed. “Detransform me.”

When the green light faded, Marinette let out a sudden scream, the sound splitting the still air.

“Adrien?”

He laughed. “Surprise?”

Before he could say another word, Marinette had tackled him, pulling him into what was probably the best hug in his entire lifetime.

“It’s always been you,” she murmured. “I can’t believe it. It’s been you this whole time.”

“Better believe it,” he said, a smile on his face. “Because I’m not leaving any time soon.”

She breathed out a laugh. “I hope not.”

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, basking in each other’s presence. In that moment, in his lady’s embrace, Adrien felt near euphoric, his senses filled with Marinette’s scent of vanilla and the sheer giddiness of it all.

“Hey, this doesn’t mean you’re getting out of explaining yourself,” came Marinette’s teasing voice, her head still buried in his arms.

Adrien laughed. “I wouldn’t expect any less from you, my lady.”

So he told the tale of his short-lived music career, a musical performer who felt upstaged, and an akuma whose damage he had frantically covered up with the help of Plagg and the other kwamis. Marinette berated him as she listened to the entire story, but she pulled him in for a kiss afterwards and called him her silly kitty. And he thought that more than made up for it.

Claude hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Chat Noir or Ladybug, stationed as he was at the ticket counter. He couldn’t help feeling jittery, though, hearing the tales the guard near him had brought back.

“—popped out of nowhere, with that scary voice of hers!”

He sighed. He’d heard it a thousand times by now, but the guard assigned near him couldn’t seem to stop.

“She asked us if there was a problem, and—Ladybug?”

Claude whipped around. Ladybug?

A few feet from his station stood the guard and Claude’s coworkers, mouths all agape. He followed their stares and his eyes widened.

“Hey, officers!” A cheery Ladybug waved from the top of the grand entrance. “Chat Noir and I will be leaving now. Sorry to inconvenience you!”

Chat Noir, crouched next to her, gave a sheepish wave. “Sorry.”

“Thanks for having us, Disneyland Paris,” Ladybug continued merrily. She readied her yo-yo, and beside her, Chat Noir extended his baton, stealing a lovestruck look at her as he did. “Bug out!”

Claude sank into his seat a few seconds after they left, massaging his forehead.

He was paid far too little for this.

#miraculous ladybug #adrinette #my fics #whoops my memory said ‘no <3' for a second there #i mentioned this on ao3 already but big big thank u to noodles for inspiring me and enormous thank you to the mods esp kim and maryssa for #beta-ing!! without u 2 tis would be a MESS and im eternally grateful for the mods' patience with me ;-;#totographs #adrienette #ml #ladynoir #lovesquare #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir #adrien agreste

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win--me · 3 years

Text

Vincenzo - *deep exhale*

*spoilers*

So I just finished Vincenzo, months later. I didn’t watch it as it aired because my plate was FULL at the time. Here are my thoughts on a few characters.

Choi Myung Hee - I can’t pinpoint the specific moment she lost it. She went from being a lawyer working for money to hiring people to kill people. She waltzed over that line with ease and looked very comfortable on the other side. Her most terrifying moment was when she got the call that Vincenzo’s mother was dead and she and Jand Han Seok literally danced in the living room. Let’s not forget how she PUT HERSELF IN PRISON so Jang Han Seok could be released. If I’m ever that down bad for a man, just put me down.

Jang Han Seo - I feel the worst for Jang Han Seo. Who knows what he might have become if he hadn’t grown up under his brother’s abuse. (Hong Cha Young saying he shouldn’t have turned to drugs was hilarious because GIRL, do you remember how your man commits actual murder? Are you in a position to judge?) My favorite scene of his was when he played hockey with Vincenzo. We were introduced to Jang Han Seo’s relationship with his brother when Jang Han Seok was shooting hockey pucks at him while he wore a suit. It was beautiful to see Jang Han Seo on that same ice, wearing protective gear, with his own hockey stick, playing a game and having fun with Vincenzo. I’m glad that at the end, he had someone who cared about him.

Jang Han Seok - From bumbling intern to psychopathic chairman, this reveal had my jaw on the ground. Even after I knew he was the chairman, I still almost believed him when he was pretending to be the intern. There was something I wanted from this character that’s difficult to put into words. We learn that he began murdering as a kid and that he murdered his classmates because they did things he didn’t like. I’m curious about what he was like while he was in the US. Did he murder anyone there? After he was diagnosed at 16, what did his doctors do? Was there ever a treatment plan? All I got from this character is that he's selfish and wants power and control. I think the best villains always have at least one redeeming quality, something that makes them the hero of their own story, but I didn’t find anything for him. Overall, the actor deserves all the praise because he did an excellent job terrifying me.

Hong Cha Young - If I eve hire a lawyer, I’ll make sure to get one who skips out of the courthouse. From the beginning to the end, after all she went through losing her father, taking down babel, getting kidnapped, she still skips. I was really surprised when her father died at the beginning of the series. I expected him to be one of the main characters. Though his death was tragic, I think it was necessary for Vincenzo to take down Babel and Jang Han Seok. We learn from the start that Hong Cha Young is okay using shady methods when working which was a huge point of contention between her and her father. Had he been the one to fight Babel with Vincenzo, I don’t think he would have been as accepting of Vincenzo’s methods. Her father’s death drove her to take on his cause to avenge him. We also see her adjust her morals to match the methods they used. She began bribing witnesses, then kicking people tied to a chair off a building, then participating in killing. She was right when she said that she had to go outside the law to take down people who exclusively work outside the law.

Vincenzo Cassano - Such a complicated, amazing character. There’s no question, Vincenzo is capable of horrible acts and we see him commit several. He tortures the killer hired to murder his mother, he sets Choi Myung Hee on fire, he murders Jang Han Seok using a machine that drills into his chest. He’s no saint, yet why do I like him? This is why I think I (and viewers in general) like him. First, he was adopted into a mafia family. He acts the way he does because of the family he was raised in. There’s no telling how he would have been had his birth mother kept and raised him, which we know she did for the first few years of his life. This sets him apart from Jang Han Seok who was medically diagnosed and as far as we know, didn’t learn how to murder from anyone. Second, he has a strict moral code, he stated that he doesn’t hurt women and children. He interacts with religious authorities (the monks at the plaza) and he made the Catholic sign for the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Third, we see him in many different situations. We see him be scared, be silly, be embarrassed, be nervous, be thoughtful and more. One of my favorite scenes is when he’s pretending not to watch Hong Cha Young put on makeup and the jewelry he bought for her. He’s presented as a complete human who is capable of living as a complete human. Lastly, He doesn’t seem to enjoy the violent things he does. It’s like going to work for him. When we saw him commit the more gruesome acts, it was as revenge for his mother. This is how the character was built in a way that makes the viewer sympathize with him even though objectively, we probably shouldn’t. He’s a hero and a villain and I’ve accepted that.

Are they really just gonna keep all that gold in Hong Cha Young’s spare room? I guess they can’t really take it to the bank. People would ask questions.

The ending was bittersweet. Though Vincenzo and Hong Cha Young are separated, she has a standing invite to his island and in my mind she spends every summer there.

#vincenzo #long post #thoughts #kdrama #kdramas

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uglymanchronicles · 3 years

Text

Ugly Man Chronicles Reignition Book 2 Chapter 2: My Breakfast With Evan

Just a couple dudes getting to know each other.

“If you must know,” Evan sighed, spearing a glistening sausage on the end of a flimsy plastic fork, “my jackass older sister thought it would be hilarious to give me a cupcake she'd baked with about a dozen powdered viagra for my fifteenth birthday. I wound up passing out eventually. Burst a lot of blood vessels. Damaged the erectile tissue beyond usefulness.”

Titus froze mid-coffee-sip. “Seriously? What a bitch!”

“Buddy, you don't know the half of it.”

“So... no signs of life down there?”

“Nothing for twelve years.”

“I think I would literally kill myself.”

“It's not so bad, I guess. At least I don't have to drain the blood out of it any more.”

“Eugh! Fuck! Did not need to hear that!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn't ask questions you don't want the answer to.”

“Do you get, like, blue balls all the time, then?”

“That's basically my ground state of being.”

Titus whistled flatly, avoiding looking Evan in the eye. He settled for staring at the table. There wasn't a lot of Evan's face that he felt comfortable looking at; every part seemed to at least be adjacent to some unpleasantry or another. About the only safe area was his right eye, which, as luck would have it, was directly opposite Titus's 'good' eye. Titus rallied and met Evan's gaze again. “Alright, your turn.”

They'd agreed on a sort of mutual interview process, taking turns asking questions to suss out what the other was capable or if he was worth having around. Evan took a bite out of the sausage and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

“Who's Moreno?”

Titus hissed through his teeth. “A real piece of shit.”

“I'm going to need more than that.”

“I'm getting to it. He's basically, like... a freelance henchman? Like, sort of a mercenary criminal. Sells his services to the highest bidder.”

“And why's he matter?”

“That's another question.”

“No, it is not,” Evan said, quiet and serious. “Do not argue with me in bad faith, Titus. I have very little patience for it in the best of times.”

Titus regarded him for a long moment. The man across from him was wider than the table they sat at. His muscles were so pronounced in some points that Titus could tell when he was about to move by the way they bulged and contracted. Yet he gave the impression that he was constantly trying to pull himself inward, to make himself smaller. He spoke quietly and with a simple formality, but only hours before Titus had watched him single-handedly beat down some of the nastiest people he'd met in the past month.

Hmm.

“Fine. Moreno matters because I'm after the guy he's working for. You see, Moreno isn't just a normal scumbag. He works for people who need nasty things done. Not like regular nasty, either. How much do you actually know about magic?”

“I've got some... notes. So far I'm not able to find a lot of coherent rules. It mostly seems like it relies on things that nobody would normally do.”

Titus snapped his fingers and pointed at Evan. “Hit it right on the head. Rituals, reagents, that kind of thing... the reason—well, one of the reasons—magic doesn't just happen all the time by accident is that it's all weird little things. A lot of the more heavy magic relies on some pretty elaborate and obtuse shit to get it going.”

Evan momentarily thought back to the Book of Fate and his ritual in the woods. “So Moreno does these things for people?”

“Yeah. Thing is, though...” Titus stopped raising a forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth and set it down again, as if he'd momentarily lost his appetite. “The people who use his services generally practice some pretty vile magic. Real depraved shit. And to empower depraved magic, you need depraved rituals. Moreno is the guy you go to when...”

“I think I get it,” Evan interjected, since Titus seemed to be struggling with deciding whether to continue. “Your turn.”

Titus tapped his fingers on the table for a moment, then looked Evan in the eye. “How smart are you?”

The scars on Evan's face squirmed around as he actually smirked. “What kind of question is that?”

“Hey, we agreed no 'whys'.”

“Alright, alright. Well, there's really no objective metric for it, but... I have Master's degrees in computer science and theoretical physics, Bachelor's in those in addition to mathematics and electrical engineering, and associate's degrees and certificates in everything from EMT training to ballet. I should have my doctorate in physics, but...” he said, with a bitterness that Titus made a note of, then changed gears. “Oh, and I also speak Mandarin, Spanish, Japanese, French, and Arabic pretty fluently. I also know ASL. I can get by in German and Russian, too. I don't know if any of that is what you meant but--”

“Jesus, I get it,” Titus muttered, rubbing the side of his head. “How the fuck do you make money?”

“Software consulting, mostly. I specialize in security and processing efficiency. People pay me to break into their systems and then patch the holes, or to make their code run quicker or make their programs smaller. I've got a few patents I've licensed that bring in most of my income nowadays, though.”

“Anything I would have heard of?”

“If you've used a computer made in the last four years it probably has something I wrote integrated somewhere into it. I also helped develop a protein-sequencing program that helped develop a vaccine for this nasty SARS variant that broke out in China last year. They say if they hadn’t nipped it in the bud it could’ve spread worldwide and we’d be looking at millions of deaths by now.”

Titus scrunched up his face. “Oh yeah, just say that like it’s no big deal.”

“I’m just glad it turned out not to be one. What I'd really like to do is get my compression algorithm out there, but if I do that, somebody's going to try to hoard it all for themselves.”

“Are you talking to yourself or me?”

“Look, I... a few years ago I figured out a way to compress memory down by a exponential factor of six with zero loss. All it takes is a couple software plugins that don't take up much room themselves. Essentially, I could make a gigabyte fit in a kilobyte with very little trouble, now that the math's figured out.”

“Holy fuck, that's insane! Why haven't I heard anything about this?”

“Mainly because I don't tell people. If I put it up on the market, some ISP would buy it and bury it. If you make information smaller, you make it faster. Can you imagine what it'd do to internet access if dial-up and barebones cellular networks suddenly had the bandwidth of fiber optics? It would... maybe not revolutionize our society, but it would level a lot of playing fields. Bring a lot of underdeveloped areas of the world—hell, this country—up to modern levels with no extra cost. The telecomms would crash and burn so hard. But I don't have the means to get it out there without going through someone else. Yet,” Evan added. “So I basically work watered-down versions of the compressor into the software I make. Nothing that can be duplicated, and nowhere near its full potential, but enough to get me hailed as some kind of genius and pay the bills.”

“So why aren't you on your own private island or something somewhere instead of puttering around God's Ashtray in a shitty old Bug?”

“Hey, the Beetle is not shitty,” Evan said, defensively. “And I'm just waiting for the AC in my RV to get fixed or I'd be driving that.”

“Oh hot damn! Now that's the way to live!”

“Not the one I'd choose voluntarily, but it could be worse.”

“How come you're doing it, then?”

“I think it's my turn to ask,” Evan said, mildly.

“Fine,” Titus said grumpily, crossing his arms.

“How do you make money?”

“That's easy. I'm basically a freelance bailbondsman. I just roam around, drop my advertising around bars and courthouses.”

“You get many clients that way?” Evan asked, cocking his remaining eyebrow.

“Oh, you'd be amazed how desperate people can get,” Titus said, shrugging. “Of course, they're usually not the most responsible people, so when they bounce, I track 'em down myself, drag ‘em back to jail, get the money back. My eye usually makes it super easy. Sometimes they don't even see me before I get the cuffs on 'em.”

“Why did you feel the need to rob a bunch of drug dealers, then? The thrill of it?”

“I had a pressing need for a large amount of cash that my normal work doesn't bring in. That got me enough to hold it off for a while. My turn.”

Evan waved down a waitress for a refill of his coffee, trying not to take it personally when she gasped upon seeing his face. “Go ahead…”

“No, no, hang on.” Titus waved a hand dismissively. “I want to try something. Take your hair out of the ponytail.”

“What? Why?”

“Humor me.”

Evan groaned and reached back, removing his hair tie. After shaking his head, his hair fell over his face, obscuring everything but his nose and mouth. Titus pursed his lips and regarded him seriously for a moment.

“Can you see?”

“Yeah, I guess. Well enough to not walk into things, I think, and I could probably read if I had to.”

Titus snapped his fingers. “Good. Go with that from now on.”

“Why?”

“Because now you don’t look like God’s mistake. Now you look like a big, dumb-but-lovable goon. Like Jack Black would voice you in a cartoon.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“Do you like seeing people contemplating their own mortality and the general cruel absurdity of the tragic farce that is human existence when they get a glimpse of your face?”

Evan felt his cheeks burn and was actually grateful his hair was covering most of his face. “…not particularly, no.”

“Then there you go. You’re welcome. Okay, question time. Uh… how did you get your powers?”

“Which one?”

“Oh, now who’s arguing in bad faith? Fucking all of them, you thick-lipped gargoyle.”

Evan had the feeling he hit a sore spot. Titus's easy-going, jocular tone had bled away from him, leaving behind the hard-edged razor-blade of a man that had ambushed him the night before. He decided not to belabor the point.

“I don't know why I can rege—why I heal so quickly. No, I'm serious, as far as I know, it just started happening sometime in the past few months. I can't remember. Don't look at me like that, I'll get to that in a minute. When I was younger I recovered from a lot of injuries a lot quicker than the doctors thought I would, so maybe it's something I was born with and it just got stronger recently for some reason.”

Evan took a sip of coffee, mainly to buy a few seconds to think of how much to explain for the next part.

“The ability to shut off powers... that's part of, well, I guess you'd call it a magic ritual, because I don't know what else to call it. I found a weird old book that said it contained the key to making someone an instrument of universal justice, or something of the sort. Since then I can see... I guess they're souls? Maybe? I can sort of move mine and when I run it into someone else's it seems like I can shut off their powers. Or... take them entirely, if they're dying.”

“Horseshit!” Titus scoffed. “That's... that's like meta-magic. I don't even know if that's real.”

“No, seriously! I don't think it's just magic powers, I think it... 'normalizes' things.” He briefly recounted his encounter with the pain monster.

“Are you kidding me? That...” Titus took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair, exhaling slowly and loudly. “Look, I don't know much, but the fact that you even ran into something like that, let alone survived... those odds are astronomical. And you say you negated not just its powers, but its whole form?”

“Yeah. Once I... reached into it, like I did with you—oh don't make that face. Grow up—I kind of disrupted what made it... different, I guess? Like I cut it off from its special qualities. Like it was...”

“Disjuncted,” Titus cut in.

“Yeah, that's a good word for it. Like the old Mordenkainen spell?”

“Fucking nerd.”

“Eat my ass. Anyway, after I killed it, I was able to reach into its... soul? Animating force? Aura? I don't know what to call it. I was able to grab something and pull it out and it just got pulled into me.”

“Not aura.”

“What?”

“Aura's a different thing,” Titus said, dismissively. “So what did you get from doing that?”

“I.. I feel pain differently. I don't flinch or get adrenaline rushes from injuries that don't actually impede my ability to function. I think I have a better sense of what is actually dangerous to my body now. It still hurts, but I don't react to pain like people normally do. It's like...hmm.” Evan drummed his fingers on the table. “Do you know anything about video games? Fighting games, specifically?”

“I used to fuck around on an old Alpha 3rd Strike cabinet when I was a kid. Why?”

“Do you know what 'super armor' is?”

“Isn't that where a move can't get stopped by being hit when you're doing it?”

“Right. I'm kind of like that now. Pain doesn't interrupt me.”

“Fucking nerd.”

Evan's fist involuntarily clenched. “I'm trying to put this in terms you can understand, you stupid reprobate. My experience with your judgment thus far hasn't given me much faith in your intellect.”

Titus burst out laughing. “So he does know how to banter! I thought you might be one of those Rainman types.”

“Oh sure, call it 'banter' to try to excuse the fact that you've been insulting me for the past half hour. Do you say you're ‘just joking’ when people get mad at you for saying stupid shit, too?”

“C'mon, lighten up! We're partners now! Tell me more about this soul thing. I still think you're full of shit.”

Evan sighed through his nose, then held up his left hand, forming his fingers into a circle and peering through them.

“Yours is... a sort of cross between a sea green and an oil slick. The tendrils of it keep reaching out and snapping back, going all over the place. It seems to keep expanding and contracting. It's almost flickering, like... it's indecisive. Very chaotic. The tendrils that aren't snapping around seem to be kept pretty close to your body, wrapping around you like... I can't tell if it's protective or restrictive.”

Titus's expression slowly became serious. “What does that mean?”

“I don't know. I have a lot of theories, but nothing solid to go on. I'm not sure if it's allegorical or a literal representation of a person's... power, maybe? Yours definitely looks a lot different than most people's.”

“I don't believe this for a second. Let me see.”

“How would I do tha—hey!”

Titus grabbed Evan's wrist and held his hand up to his eye. “Ho-lee...”

He pulled back from Evan's hand, staring at him. Then he looked around the room, mouth slack as he took in the diner's other occupants.

“Huh. Did you know it keeps working until you blink?” He said after a moment, a faraway tone to his voice.

“I didn't even know other people could do it,” Evan said, awe in his voice. “Hey, wow, you're right!”

“Jesus, yours is, like, really blue. It looks like... a bunch of steel cables. It's weird, I felt like I both could and couldn't see the edges of it...”

“I can kind of move it, but I'm not sure if I can do anything with it beyond interfering with people's powers. It's like learning to use a muscle you didn't know you had.”

“Huh.” Titus was again silent for a long moment. “Your turn.”

“Can you do anything else supernatural? Besides your time-eye?”

“Don't call it that, it sounds stupid. And... sorta. I seem to have whatever innate talent you need to actually do magic, but it's not like it's easy to find instructions. Most of the people I know who can use it just dabble with half-broken magic items—wands, amulets, charms,” he pulled the silence charm out from under his coat and bounced it at the end of its chain. “I guess I'm sort of a dabbler. I know a few tricks, I can use a lot of magic tools, I can sense magic pretty well, I can dowse... Most of the time I really never have to use anything besides the eye, though.”

“Is the eye all-or-nothing?”

“Yeah. It's not nearly as useful as you'd think, but any edge is an edge.”

“When I turned off your power and it was coming back, though, you started speeding up—or, I guess, everything else was slowing down? You were moving faster, one way or the other. You were able to touch me, and those punches hurt.”

“Huh, yeah, you're right.”

“Do you think there's a way you could learn to only partially activate it?”

“That'd be great, wouldn't it? Thing is, just using it is a huge strain, and that time spend outside of time adds up. Going by normal calendar time I'm only 26.”

“Fuck, I'm 27!” Evan laughed.

“Yeah, well, I'd rather be prematurely gray than what you've got going on. My turn. Uh... huh, I can't really think of anything else. Uh... are you gay?”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“No, but the question still counts.”

“I'm bi,” Evan mumbled, crossing his arms across his prodigious chest. “Not that it matters. And before you ask, no, you are not my type. We're done talking about this.”

“Huh. You ever sucked--”

“We. Are. Done. Talking about this.”

“Fine, God. Go.”

Evan mentally circled back to an earlier question he felt hadn't been properly answered. “Why are you after Moreno?”

To Evan's surprise, Titus didn't hesitate. “I'm actually after his current boss. He's just the best lead I have to go on.” He took a deep breath, then started talking with a rushed, deadpan pace, as if he was eager to get the words out as quickly as possible so they wouldn't be in his mouth very long.

“Moreno is working for a guy only known as the Soultaker. He has an innate supernatural ability to pull a person's soul out of their body. When that happens, the person just... shuts down, usually. No motive force behind them. Eventually they just die of dehydration, usually. I've seen some people so set in routine that they keep going without a soul, but... it's not really life.

“It seems like the extraction process takes a while, so he can't just walk past you on the street and pickpocket your entire essence. So he needs people rounded up for him, held until he can do his nasty juju. So that's where a degenerate like Moreno comes in.

“So when he pulls out a soul, it, well, it looks like this.”

Titus pulled a battered, faded Crown Royale bag out of his jacket. It bulged strangely and made a quiet clacking when he set it on the table. He pulled out what looked like a large marble, or maybe a dull pearl, and handed it to Evan.

Evan brushed his hair out of his eyes and peered into the milky depths of the sphere. After a few moments of staring, the murky clouds inside the thing seemed to clear and a face floated to the surface. A black man, maybe in his late 40s, going thin on top. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be sleeping, but his expression had a look of discomfort to it, as if he was having a bad dream.

“Jesus Christ,” Evan whispered, “I've seen this guy... Martell Calloway? I saw some news article about how his family found him tied up in his apartment and completely comatose! But he didn't have any injuries beyond being a black eye... so he's dead?”

“Life support,” Titus said, taking Mr. Calloway's soul back from Evan's unresisting fingers, “technically, he's one of the lucky ones. They found his body before it wasted away to nothing, and I was able to intercept his soul before it got to a buyer.”

“Why would someone buy something like this? What use is it? Can you fix him?”

“A human soul is a damn near exhaustible arcane battery,” Titus said gravely. In the split second between sentences, Evan noticed something—after he'd put the bag back into his jacket, Titus surreptitiously touched a pocket on the other side of his jacket, as if he was making sure something was still there.

“If you know what you're doing, you can power a lot of magic using a soul. And you can reuse them as long as you don't overdo it. If you know what you're doing, you can wring all but the last drops of essence out of a soul and let it heal or recover or whatever, and it'll eventually be back to full strength. Very resilient things,” Titus continued. “I don't think they're conscious in there, but... anyway, it's supposed to be really hard to extract a soul. But this guy was born with or spontaneously developed or somehow figured out a shortcut to the whole process. So the market is getting flooded with torture-batteries and ECUs are getting flooded with vegetables. And families are winding up with loved ones who are as good as dead, without having any idea why this happened to them. Dozens of them have been taken off life support in the past few months. Half these souls have no body to return to. And no, I can't fix it. At least not yet,” he sighed again. “I was hoping once I found him, I could somehow get the secret out of him or force him to put them back, or... maybe I thought if I killed him it'd reverse the effect. He needs killing, either way.”

Titus's eye widened as a thought struck him and he looked Evan in the eye for the first time since he'd started the story. Evan realized what he was thinking and looked down at the tattoo on his left arm, flexing his fingers.

“If you can take people's powers after they die...”

“...then we can save these people.”

Titus put a hand over his mouth and for a moment Evan thought he saw his eye well up.

“I'm in,” Evan said, a sense of righteous purpose welling in his heart. “I don't really know what the universe wants, but I doubt... I know it's not this. We'll find him, we'll stop him, and we'll save as many of these people as we can.”

“...thanks,” Titus mumbled behind his hand. He swallowed hard, then seemed to come back to himself. “We're back to square one, though.”

“You said you could dowse? Like, for real?”

“Yes, for real. I can find things and people with the pendulum method. It's handy for tracking down bounties.”

“Why don't you dowse Moreno?”

“Why didn't I think of that?!” Titus said incredulously, smacking his forehead. “Because he's warded. He's not magic himself, but he's collected enough gear through his career that my normal methods don't work.”

Evan rubbed his chin. “What if we used an abnormal method?”

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

An hour later, they were in the RV. Titus was poring over the collection of Evan's notes and the strange papers he'd bought from Delmann's shop. Evan was very carefully slicing a strip of skin from his own ankle up all the way up his leg. The Guiding Light—the Finder's Follysat on the table between them, filled with fresh blood.

“Even if this works, he's going to know we're coming,” Titus muttered, engrossed in the pages. “Remember what I said?”

“That's why we're not going to look for him,” Evan said, adjusting his grip on the potato peeler. “I don't know how we'd even write his name. Can you read that, by the way?”

“Kind of. This is... most of this is written in, like, arcane pidgin. Who compiled these notes?”

“I did, I think.”

“You think?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to clarify on that. Apparently a couple months ago, before the ritual, I drilled a hole in my own brain to erase some kind of very dangerous memory.”

“You what.”

“That's not a metaphor or anything. Really did it. I could show you the video.”

“I'll pass. So you don't remember where this came from?” Titus shook the Book of Fate at him.

“Nope.”

“Jesus shit, do you have any idea--”

“How reckless that was? Yeah, yeah, I'm still here and I'm the answer to your fuckin' prayers, aren't I?” Evan gave a whoop as the peeling skin reached his thigh. “Got it this time!” he said cheerfully, snipping the flesh-ribbon off with scissors.

“God, that's so fucking gross. Anyway, you haven't explained how we're going to use that thing to find Moreno.”

“We don't set it to look for him. We look for somewhere he's been. Maybe the last place he slept. Do you think you can describe him well enough in that language for it to work?”

Titus looked like he might actually be impressed, but he hid it well. “Yeah, probably.”

“Good. I've got a dictionary I've put together on that tablet next to you, but I'm not sure how accurate it is. Maybe it'll help?”

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

Two hours later, they had it.

Find where a man born between the 27th and 28th north parallels during a new moon under the sign of capricorn with black hair and green eyes who has killed at least 10 people slept in the past week.

They really had to squeeze the letters in, but when Evan put a flame to the wick, it sprung to life, wavered for a moment, and then pointed east. Both men cheered. Evan threw Titus the keys.

“Drive! Drive north until I tell you otherwise!”

While Titus started the engine, Evan spread a map of the United States on the table in front of the lamp, then produced a protractor and a notebook from a drawer. “Okay, you bastard... let's see where you've been hiding...”

It took three days—one spent driving north, one spent driving back to where they'd started, and one spent driving south. While Titus drove, Evan made meticulous notes of the flame's direction, marking angles on the map. Finally he threw the pencil down triumphantly.

“He's in Salt Lake City.”

“Well, that narrows it down a little, I guess. So what, do we just go there and hope this thing points us in the right direction?”

“Too slow,” Evan called, stepping back into what used to be his bedroom and sitting at his computer. “Now I work my magic.”

After parking, Titus walked back to look over Evan's shoulder. The half-dozen monitors on the wall were flickering between rapidly-changing pictures of faces and what appeared to be CCTV footage.

“What is this?”

“This,” Evan said with dramatic pride, “is Blaccat. Facial recognition algorithms that the CIA wishesit had. I actually started working on it years ago before I thought about the implications of it, but I shelved it. I figured since I may be needing to, uh...”

“Be Batman?”

“...yeah...that I should get back to work on it. Right now it's comparing faces to the description you gave me and cycling through every damn security camera in the city looking for it.”

“How illegal is this?”

“Soooooo illegal.”

“Oh, hey, can you get into police department records?”

“Does the Pope shit in the woods?”

“See if you can get into the Las Vegas mugshots from... February 2019. Run your face-recognition thingy there.”

“Alright.... and... is that our boy?”

A handsome Latino man in his early 30s with shoulder-length jet-black hair and piercing green eyes stared at them from over a booking clipboard.

“That's him,” Titus breathed.

“Perfect! Now I just have to feed that into... wow.” Evan made a gesture and a black and white video popped up on the biggest monitor. The man in the mugshot was walking along the street, flanked by a short stocky man in bandanna and a lanky man with the ugliest white-boy dreads Evan had ever seen.

“That's him! Where is that? When is that?”

Evan grinned up at Titus. “That's live. I can track him and put us at the nearest intersection.”

Titus smiled, eye overbright, and began breathing heavily through his nose. “We got him.”

Evan met his eye and nodded. “Let's get him.”

#my writing #urban fantasy #ugly man chronicles: reignition

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